#but because i had reached out to my professor about it instead of ‘hoping for the best’ (which i still kinda was) i’m able to go | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dksfml · 3 months ago

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off my face - yjw

pairing: jungwon x reader genre: soulmate au, mega FLUFF word count: 6.6k summary: in a world where each person has a soulmate mark indicating where they will be touched by their soulmate for the first time, there’s jungwon—the soccer team captain you’d like to be ruined by forever—who has no soulmate mark at all. what does that make you, someone whose mark has changed color because of him? author's note: finally!! here's your most awaited blond jungwon fic that i skipped sleep for<3333 inspired by this amazing prompt my friend sent me.

One touch and you got me stoned. Higher than I've ever known. You call the shots and I follow. Sunrise, but the night still young. No words, but we speak in tongues. If you let me, I might say too much.

You sat near the front row, posture perfect, eyes narrowed as Professor Min’s lecture on ancient mythology took a surprising turn. Today’s topic wasn’t just history—it was soulmate lore, the mysterious marks everyone was born with, and the myths that surrounded them. The professor’s calm, seasoned voice filled the room, but the air buzzed with barely contained excitement. Everyone was alert, even the usual back-row whisperers, captivated by the promise of something rare: a sanctioned discussion about their most private marks.

“These soulmate marks,” Professor Min began, his gaze sweeping the room with a faint smile, “are said to be the final traces of a bond forged in a past life. Legends tell us that in each lifetime, we may be separated from our soulmates, lost to distance or circumstance. But the marks,” he gestured to his own faintly darkened palm, “are said to be the soul’s way of leaving a trail—a reminder.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Everyone had a mark, a small patch of inky darkness, as distinct as fingerprints, mapped out on their bodies. Some had them on their palms or fingertips, waiting for the day a handshake or brush of fingers would light up that mark with color. Others had them in more curious places, whispering of fated touches in the most unlikely moments.

"The legend says," Professor Min continued, "that these marks were painted by one’s soulmate in a past life, a vow made in hopes to meet again, to find each other across time."

You clenched your pen a little tighter, the faint tickle of wonder battling the urge to keep your expression blank and unfeeling. You’d always kept your interest in soulmate marks private. They seemed so full of mystery, and the idea of your soulmate waiting for you somewhere was oddly… reassuring. You glanced down, conscious of the mark behind your knee, hidden like a strange secret that even you could barely understand. What kind of first touch would even reach there? The thought was both amusing and baffling, and you stifled a wry smile.

Around you, other students leaned in to chat, loud enough that their conversations blended into a steady hum. Your classmate Arin nudged her friend, laughing as she displayed the faint mark on her palm. “I’ve been dying to know who’ll shake my hand one day,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope.

But your gaze drifted just beyond Arin, landing instead on a familiar figure lounging in the middle row with his legs stretched out, looking every bit like he was born to disrupt things without lifting a finger. Jungwon. Handsome in a way that seemed almost unfair, with striking, dark eyes framed by lashes that cast subtle shadows on his cheeks, and hair the color of midnight that fell in soft, tousled waves. He had this effortless, magnetic presence that drew people toward him, like he knew he didn’t need to try.

As captain of the soccer team and one of the most well-known faces on campus, Jungwon somehow managed to look both sharp and relaxed, as if the attention his looks or reputation brought him meant nothing. You’d been crushing on him since last year, an avid fan always present at his games, cheering him on like a lovesick fool. Whenever he scored a goal, you felt your heart leap, and you couldn’t help but unleash your inner fangirl, your excitement spilling over as you screamed his name. Right now, he seemed half-listening to his friends, a hint of a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before refocusing on his friends. It was that easygoing confidence that made him impossible not to notice—and, for you, impossible not to think about.

It was a boy from his friend group, Jay, who interrupted the class chatter by slapping a hand down on the table and teasing, “Come on, Won. You don’t have a soulmate mark, my foot. No one gets off that easy.” The comment was light-hearted but loaded, and more than a few students turned to look.

To your surprise, Jungwon didn’t react with one of his usual witty comebacks or careless shrugs. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of something almost vulnerable flashing across his face. “No, really,” he insisted, almost apologetically. “I don’t have one. I checked a million times as a kid.”

Your pen paused mid-note, and a slight, irrational disappointment prickled in your chest. It was hard to believe, especially about someone like Jungwon, whose very presence seemed destined to leave a mark on others. Soulmate marks might be rare, but someone like him not having one? It felt impossible, like a missing piece that no one noticed until it was too late.

For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe he just hadn’t found it yet. After all, some people only discovered their mark when it finally turned to color. Sometimes it wasn’t a visible spot on the skin but something far subtler—a shadow in the hue of their lips that would only brighten after a first kiss, or a darkness lingering in an eye, invisible until the gentle touch of someone wiping away their tears brought it to life. The thought sent a strange warmth to your cheeks as you glanced back toward him, wondering if Jungwon’s missing mark was just waiting for the right person to unlock it.

Still, he looked surprisingly honest, a faint hint of sadness clouding his otherwise bright gaze. For someone so magnetic, it was as if he was caught drifting in space, without any tether connecting him to anyone at all.

“Alright, alright,” Jay relented, raising his hands in surrender but laughing all the same. “Guess someone’s too cool to be fated to anyone, huh?”

The professor’s voice cut back in, and you forced yourself to refocus, though your mind lingered on Jungwon’s quiet expression and the flicker of something in his eyes, something both resigned and deeply private. Could he really be alone in a world where everyone else was bound to someone?

“Imagine having your mark on your knuckles,” Arin whispered beside you with a grin, oblivious to the moment that had just passed. “You’d probably knock your soulmate out before you even realized they were ‘the one’!”

Another round of laughter scattered through the room, like a shared inside joke. The air felt charged, as if everyone were suddenly curious about each other’s marks, glancing around with new eyes. You let out a small sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook with a faint smile. As much as you tried to keep up the class president, model-student act, the idea of soulmates fascinated you in a way you’d never quite admit.

When the bell finally rang, the room filled with that familiar end-of-class chaos. You started packing up, keeping your head down—until you noticed Jungwon slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking effortlessly put-together, as usual. He laughed at something his friend said, his expression relaxed, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. But you couldn’t help catching the faintest flicker of something else in his gaze as he glanced at his friends—like a momentary, unguarded look that felt… wistful?

Okay, maybe that was just you being overly imaginative.

You let out a little huff as you slung your own bag over your shoulder, shaking off the strange pity you’d felt moments before. So what if Jungwon didn’t have a mark? You barely even knew him. Well, you kind of knew him, but from a distance—and with way more daydreams than you’d like to admit. Still, it was silly to wonder about him, right? With your head full of these thoughts, you walked out into the hallway, lost in a world where maybe, just maybe, he was wondering about you, too.

And as you brushed past a group of friends, laughing and shoving each other, your hand slipped over the back of your knee, where your own mark was hidden—quiet, waiting, and as mysterious as ever.

The sky was an endless blue, stretching wide over the school field as your class spilled out onto the grass for PE. With the teacher conveniently on vacation, today’s instructions were simple: enjoy the free time. Most of your classmates took to the field, breaking off into little clusters for a lazy game of soccer, light stretches, or simple gossip sessions by the bleachers.

As class president, you took it upon yourself to ensure no one went too far or caused trouble. Your duty, as you saw it, was to survey your classmates from a slight distance, keeping an eye out with the calm, serious gaze you’d carefully perfected. Yet even from the sidelines, your eyes found themselves drifting toward a familiar figure on the field, drawn to him like magnets.

Jungwon was at the center of the field with his friends, casual and relaxed, but his every move carried an elegance that made your pulse skip. He was laughing at something his friend said, his eyes crinkling as he kicked the soccer ball back and forth, the glint of a confident smirk tugging at his lips. His ease on the field was mesmerizing, a mixture of strength and grace that made it hard to look away.

You reminded yourself to focus, scanning the field to check on the other groups. But before you could pull your attention back entirely, a voice called out, and you saw Jungwon pivot to chase the soccer ball—only for it to ricochet off his foot, headed directly toward you with alarming speed.

In the split second it took you to react, you felt a sharp thud against the back of your knees. The impact sent you stumbling forward, knees buckling beneath you as you tumbled to the ground. Pain flared up where the ball had struck, but it was drowned out by the shock of it all.

“Oh no—are you okay?” Jungwon’s voice was breathless with concern, his steps hurried as he reached you. You barely had a chance to process his arrival before he knelt beside you, face flushed and clearly panicked. His hand hovered awkwardly as if afraid to touch you, his usual calm replaced with something far more vulnerable.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt?” he stammered, his voice unusually soft. He reached out gently, his hands carefully brushing against your arm as he tried to help you up. “Can you stand?”

Your mind struggled to catch up to the moment, and it took everything you had to keep your stoic demeanor intact. Jungwon was close, closer than he’d ever been, and the intensity of his worried gaze was unexpectedly disarming. Even as pain pulsed through your knee, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by how intensely he focused on you, as if everything else in the world had fallen away.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. But as soon as you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg.

Jungwon’s expression shifted to one of determination, and before you could protest, he slid one arm under your knees and lifted you up, his other arm around your shoulders. The world tilted as he held you in a firm, steady grip, his face barely inches from yours. “We’re getting you to the nurse. No arguments.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by his closeness, by the warmth radiating from him. “Oh—okay.” The words left your mouth almost on instinct, your brain still catching up with the fact that Jungwon was carrying you, his focus set entirely on you. His hands brushed your arm as he adjusted his grip, and you felt a strange warmth bloom under your skin, something unfamiliar and electric.

The walk to the nurse’s office was quiet, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered to you, the gentleness in his expression as he murmured, “Sorry again. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt the class president.”

Your lips parted, searching for something to say, but the way he looked at you—soft, maybe even a bit shy—left you wordless. All you could do was nod, your heart pounding louder with each step as you held onto the feeling of his arms around you, wondering if he could hear it too.

It wasn’t until you glanced down that you noticed it—a faint shift of color beneath your knee where the ball had struck. The mark, once hidden and dark, now radiated a subtle but unmistakable bright yellow hue, soft and warm against your skin.

You froze, eyes wide, as the realization settled in. Jungwon was still mumbling apologies, unaware of the discovery you’d just made. Only he could have caused the mark to change; he was the only one who had touched that spot. The idea left you breathless, your mind scrambling to make sense of it all.

In the clinic, the nurse examined your knee with a quick, professional assessment. “You’ll be fine,” she declared, sending you off with an ice pack and a faint smile. But your thoughts were still racing, tangled up in the startling realization that Jungwon might actually be your soulmate.

The whole walk back to class, you replayed the moment in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Perhaps someone had brushed the back of your knee at some other time, and you simply hadn’t noticed. But deep down, you knew the truth—the mark had only changed when Jungwon touched you.

And when you returned to class, he was there, hovering near the door with a worried frown. He looked up as you approached, eyes bright with relief.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a slight smile breaking through the concern etched into his features. “I was worried about you.”

Your heart skipped as you nodded, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, that’s all.” You felt the weight of the new secret pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile.

Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that effortlessly charming way of his. “I’m glad. I’ll be more careful with my aim next time.”

You smiled back, feeling the weight of the mark’s new color, of the quiet truth only you knew. As Jungwon returned to his seat, your gaze drifted to the back of your knee, where the mark lay hidden under the fabric of your clothes, now touched by color—by him.

In the days following the incident on the field, the world seemed to shift around you, humming with an energy you couldn’t quite shake. The back of your knee, where Jungwon’s touch had changed your soulmate mark to a soft, distinct yellow color, was a constant reminder of the possibility that your crush—Jungwon, the ever-handsome and kind soccer captain—might be something even more significant than you’d ever dared to imagine.

“How’s your knee?” he asked, his voice warm and tinged with that familiar gentleness that made your heart stutter.

“Oh, it’s fine, really!” You waved it off, attempting to tuck your leg further under your desk, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint new color to the mark that still lingered behind your knee.

Jungwon didn’t seem to buy it. “Are you sure?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned down, intent on seeing for himself. Before he could get a closer look, you tugged your skirt down a little farther, hiding the mark as best as you could.

“I’m sure, really,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone casual. “It’s just a little sore, nothing to worry about.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, unreadable. Then he nodded, standing up with a quiet, sheepish smile. “Alright. I’ll trust you, but only if you promise to let me know if it starts hurting again.”

You managed a nod, clutching your books a little tighter to keep your hands steady. “I promise,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice the flicker of nerves in your eyes.

Your third shared class of the week was English, and just as the teacher assigned the day’s group work, the class began to shift into pairs. Coincidentally (or so you told yourself), the seating arrangement placed Jungwon near you that day.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he approached. He offered you one of his signature, heart-stopping smiles. “Mind if we pair up? I mean…if you’re okay with it.”

With an effort to keep your expression neutral, you nodded. “Sure,” you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was anything but.

Settling at a table near the window, you both pulled out your notebooks. The task was straightforward—analyzing a poem about soulmates. You caught a breath at the irony, and Jungwon, seemingly unfazed, began reading the passage aloud. His voice, low and calm, wove through the words as you listened, though your mind kept wandering to his every movement, the way his eyes flickered thoughtfully over the page, how his fingers held the pencil lightly but with intention.

“What do you think?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, willing your focus back to the assignment. “I think…well, it’s romantic. But it’s also kind of tragic, right? There’s always this sense of waiting—like, what if they don’t meet?”

Jungwon’s gaze flickered up, lingering on your face a little longer than necessary. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “The idea that you’re waiting your whole life for just one person…it’s a lot of pressure.”

He paused, eyes settling on you, as if searching for something beneath the calm exterior you held so tightly. “Do you… believe in it? Soulmates, I mean?”

Caught off guard, you looked down, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of your notebook. You thought of your parents, of their own lovely story about finding each other through their marks, and how you’d grown up with those tales of destiny. And now, here you were, sitting with the very boy who might be your own fated match.

“I think,” you began slowly, “that I want to believe in it. My parents…they have one of those classic stories. It’s hard not to believe in soulmates when you’ve heard stories like that all your life.”

He nodded, listening intently. “I get that. I guess…sometimes I wonder what it would be like. But it’s hard to picture when you don’t…you know, have any marks yourself.”

The quiet sadness in his tone took you by surprise. You’d never considered what it might be like to go through life without a soulmate mark, to feel like something intrinsic was missing, a feeling that destiny had passed you by. Suddenly, your thoughts flickered back to the legends the elders told—how markless people were said to carry the weight of unrequited love from a past life, doomed to wander without a soulmate to mark them in this one. The idea hung heavy in the air, mingling with your sympathy for him.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter, then,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Maybe people without marks find their person too, in other ways.” You couldn’t help but think that perhaps Jungwon was one of those souls, burdened by a love that never came to fruition.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Jungwon seemed lost in thought, his gaze drifting out the window as he considered your words. And just then, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, knowing that even if he was unaware of it, you shared a connection that went beyond what either of you could see.

“Maybe,” he said finally, and then he flashed you a lopsided grin. “Well, even if soulmates are real, maybe it’s a good thing I’m mark-free. I don’t think I’d want someone to find out I was their soulmate because I hit them with a soccer ball.”

His laughter rang out, and you couldn’t help but join him, but beneath the mirth, your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him everything—to reveal the secret that could bridge the chasm between you. But as the words formed on your lips, fear gripped you. What if you were wrong? What if he truly didn’t have a soulmate mark, and this moment of connection was just a fleeting illusion?

So you swallowed hard, plastering a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, let’s just keep that between us, then,” you replied, hoping to mask the anxiety swirling inside you.

Inside, the truth weighed heavy, a secret that felt more like a burden than a bond. Keeping it hidden seemed safer, easier—even if it left you feeling like a ghost, drifting alongside him but never truly reaching out. The thought of him being one of those markless souls—the ones who carried the pain of a love never realized—made you ache. You didn’t want him to feel that emptiness, and yet, here you were, hiding a truth that might shatter the fragile connection you shared.

Perhaps it was better this way. Better to hold onto your heartache in silence than risk shattering the bond you had built, no matter how tenuous it felt. As you returned to the assignment, the bittersweet taste of longing lingered on your tongue, mixing with the thrill of possibility, leaving you torn between the hope of what could be and the fear of what might never come to pass.

Finally, during your biology class, your teacher assigned a laboratory cleaning rotation. By the luck of the draw—or maybe a twist of fate—you found yourself paired with Jungwon. It was supposed to be a simple task, but as the two of you gathered supplies and began tidying up the classroom after hours, you felt the weight of every quiet moment.

Jungwon appeared beside you as you straightened a stack of textbooks, arms full of markers and erasers. His casual, laid-back attitude only heightened the quiet thrill that being near him sparked in you. As he handed you an eraser, your fingers brushed slightly, and you pulled back quickly, heart racing.

"Are you always this… serious?" Jungwon teased, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I mean, you don’t have to look like we’re cleaning the whole school."

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “It’s just how I work. I take tasks seriously.”

He nodded, still smiling. “You’re impressive, you know. It’s like…you’re always so composed, like nothing rattles you.”

Caught off guard by his observation, you froze momentarily, not sure how to respond. Behind your serious exterior, you were anything but composed—especially around him. Before you could answer, he turned away to tidy the bookshelves, leaving you wondering if he’d picked up on the effect he had on you.

After a while, Jungwon returned to the task at hand, dusting off a few of the windowsills. It was quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of your combined effort filling the room. You both worked in sync, a silent rhythm that had developed without either of you realizing it. And then, with an abruptness that caught you off guard, he spoke again.

“Hey,” he said, hesitating. “I know this might be a weird question, but… where’s your soulmate mark?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications you weren’t ready to unravel. Your heart thudded as you carefully set down the books you’d been holding, gathering your thoughts.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks. "Um, it's… it's on my knee," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment made you shy, and you instinctively shifted your weight, the hem of your skirt falling to cover your knee even more.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Oh? Is it… already in color?”

You hesitated for a brief moment, weighing your words. “Uh, yeah,” you replied, biting your lip. “It changed a while ago. But it’s not a big deal.” You left out the part about him possibly being your soulmate, feeling the weight of that truth settle heavily in the air between you.

His expression shifted slightly, disappointment flashing across his features before he masked it with a casual smile. “That’s cool,” he said, his voice a bit quieter now. “I guess… it must be nice to have that certainty.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden heaviness in your chest. “I mean, it’s comforting, I suppose.”

But beneath your words, a sense of longing stirred. You noticed how his gaze faltered for a moment, and it struck you then how much he had hoped for something different. He had seemed eager, maybe even hopeful, and the realization stung a little.

Jungwon cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over you both. “So, um… did you see the last soccer game?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I think we really need to work on our defense.”

His attempt at lightheartedness felt slightly forced, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Still, it was nice to see him trying to shake off the heaviness from moments before.

“Yeah, I caught a bit of it,” you replied, grateful for the shift in focus. “You guys played well, though a couple of those goals were pretty close calls.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah, I think I almost gave our coach a heart attack with that last-minute save,” he said, grinning. It was an infectious smile, and you found yourself smiling back despite the weight still resting in the back of your mind.

The annual school festival arrived faster than expected, and the campus buzzed with activity and excitement. Classrooms were transformed into themed booths, hallways were draped with handmade decorations, and students wore colorful festival shirts and badges, their faces bright with paint and laughter. You found yourself stationed at the face-painting booth, brush in hand, ready to tackle the endless line of eager students.

You’d always enjoyed events like these—participating in the festival offered you a rare chance to relax and feel connected to your classmates outside of the usual seriousness you maintained as class president. Here, you were just another student, painting stars, hearts, and stripes on familiar faces.

“Hey, what’s up? Need a painter?” your friend Taeyoung called out to the next group approaching your booth. You followed his gaze and felt your heart skip when you recognized Jungwon and his friends heading your way, laughing and jostling each other. He wore a loose festival shirt with sleeves rolled up, a casual look that somehow made him even more handsome. You quickly glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of your paintbrushes and the paper towels you clutched a little too tightly.

The booth was busy, and with most of your fellow painters occupied, it didn’t take long for Taeyoung to pair Jungwon with you. “Hey, Y/N, looks like you’ve got a VIP customer! Captain Jungwon wants to be a canvas today,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he nudged Jungwon playfully.

Jungwon chuckled, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an eagerness mixed with a hint of shyness. “Yeah, I guess I’m in your hands now,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “No pressure, right?”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as your heart raced. “Uh, right! No pressure at all,” you replied, your voice a little too bright. “What do you have in mind?”

You forced yourself to meet Jungwon’s eyes, fighting back the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest. “So… what would you like?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungwon’s usual confident smile softened a little, and he seemed slightly hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe a couple of stars on my cheeks? And… maybe a small cat on my forehead?”

You stifled a laugh at his request, realizing that behind his composed demeanor, he had a playful side you hadn’t seen before. “A star and a cat. Got it,” you whispered, dipping your brush into white paint. You reached out carefully to steady his face, tilting it slightly toward the light. Your fingers lightly touched his cheek, and you couldn’t ignore the spark that jolted through you at the contact.

Jungwon closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small breath. You tried to ignore the slight flush you felt creeping up your neck, focusing on drawing a perfect star on his left cheek. You painted in silence, but every so often, he’d open his eyes and glance at you, making your heart race each time.

With one cheek finished, you moved to the other side. He leaned in closer, giving you the perfect angle. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the sounds of the bustling festival fading into a distant hum. You were hyper-aware of everything—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from him, and how your fingers gently brushed his skin. When you finished with the stars, you pulled back slightly to look at your work, meeting his gaze as you did.

“They look good,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

You swallowed, breaking eye contact to reach for a new brush and dip it in black paint. “Now for the cat,” you said, trying to stay calm. “Hold still.”

You carefully moved to part his hair at the center of his forehead. As your fingers brushed through his bangs, you froze, your eyes widening as you saw something strange—a small patch of his dark hair was shifting, lightening to a soft honey-blonde under your touch.

“Um… Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you stared at the transformed lock of hair falling against his forehead. “Your hair…”

“What about it?” He turned to you with a hint of confusion, glancing up as if trying to catch a glimpse of the change. “Did I mess it up?”

You shook your head, the words tangling in your throat as disbelief washed over you. “It’s… it’s changing color.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, then brushed his fingers through the area you’d touched. His movements stilled, the warmth in his expression fading, replaced by something deeper—something unreadable. The air thickened around you, a heavy silence filled with unspoken questions.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decode the truth hidden beneath your surprise.

You nodded slowly, your heart racing. “Yeah, I… I thought it was just the paint at first, but… it’s definitely not.”

The realization hung in the air, electric and palpable, igniting a spark of tension that sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon’s fingers gently traced the newly lightened strands of hair, his expression a mix of wonder and trepidation. You could feel your pulse quicken, an exhilarating rush flooding through you as you grasped the meaning behind this strange phenomenon.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in your chest. Here he was, the boy you’d admired from afar, unexpectedly transformed before your eyes. Jungwon—the one who had unwittingly painted your world in vibrant colors, now literally changing right in front of you.

Suddenly, self-consciousness washed over you like a cold wave. You averted your gaze, stepping back instinctively. “I—I should go finish with the others. They’re probably waiting for me…” Your voice wavered, betraying the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

Before you could dwell on it, a paint container wobbled on the edge of the table, knocking into your elbow. In your panic, you stumbled, sending brushes and colors sprawling over yourself. “Oh no!” you yelped, scrambling to clean up the mess.

“Y/N, wait!” Jungwon exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. He stepped closer, his hand closing around yours, halting your frantic movements. “Stop. Just breathe.”

His grip was steadying, grounding you amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts. “Let’s find somewhere quiet, okay? You need to clean up.” His voice held a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you.

You felt a rush of warmth at his concern, but your mind spun with confusion. “But… the booth—”

“Trust me,” he said, his gaze unwavering, a silent promise passing between you. “Just for a moment. Let’s talk.”

With a nod, you allowed him to guide you away from the festival’s noise, your heart racing not just from the moment, but from the undeniable connection building between you. The thrill of discovery was tempered by the anxiety of what it all meant, and yet, in Jungwon’s presence, you felt something shift—something new and exciting, just waiting to be explored.

He led you through a quieter section of the campus, where the walls were lined with colorful murals painted by students, the air filled with the faint scent of paint and creativity. The laughter and chatter from the festival faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sound of music drifting from the booths.

As you turned a corner, Jungwon paused, the air around you suddenly thick with anticipation. He glanced around, ensuring you were alone, then leaned against the cool brick wall, his posture relaxed yet focused. His gaze locked onto yours, intensity radiating from him. “My hair… it’s slowly turning blond. Isn’t this what soulmate marks are supposed to be like?”

His words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. You felt the weight of the moment press down, your heart racing like a wild drum in your chest. “Right… your soulmate mark,” you stammered, the tremor in your voice betraying the chaos inside. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might just be a coincidence, but now… it's all starting to make sense.”

Jungwon stepped closer, the seriousness in his expression deepening. “You mean you knew?” His voice was low, the edge of urgency evident. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The air crackled with tension, and you felt your pulse quicken. “I didn’t know it was you! I thought—” you cut yourself off, frustration bubbling within you. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward. You’ve been my crush longer than you’ve been a friend. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep things from being awkward with you, especially when my mark changed?”

Jungwon’s expression shifted, vulnerability breaking through his confidence. “Your mark... is it.… when did it change? Am I—was it before… or after we met?” His voice was tight, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

You took a deep breath, feeling the memories rush back. “The day you carried me to the nurse’s office, you idiot.”

He blinked, taken aback by your response. “Wait… that day? But I thought...”

His expression softened slightly, the intensity in his eyes shifting as he took a step closer. You held your breath as he knelt down, his fingers hovering over your soulmate mark. The moment felt electric, a mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through you.

“Can I…?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, giving him permission to touch it. As his fingers brushed against your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension between you. “Can you believe this? It feels just like yesterday when I accidentally hit my crush with a soccer ball at her knees,” he said, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “The same crush I’ve wanted to approach since 10th grade but was always too afraid to mess up, especially with how she glares at boys.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of a younger Jungwon fumbling with his words as he tried to impress you suddenly vivid in your mind. “I didn’t mean to scare you off,” you admitted, your heart swelling with warmth. “I thought you were just… confident, you know?”

He shrugged, a hint of shyness creeping back into his demeanor. “I try to be. But it’s hard when you’re crushing on someone who’s out of your league.”

“Out of my league?” you repeated, incredulous. “Jungwon, you’re the captain of the soccer team! Everyone looks up to you.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous around you,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours, sincerity pouring from his words. “It’s different with you. You make me want to be better.”

The air between you thickened with unspoken emotions, each heartbeat echoing the connection that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged. You both stood on the edge of something monumental, the laughter of the festival fading away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of what lay ahead.

The next day, Jungwon strolled confidently down the hallway, his head of hair transformed into a stunning honeyed blonde that turned heads with every step. The shift was striking—bold, noticeable, and oddly fitting—making it seem as though he had always intended to embrace this change. Whispers and awestruck glances followed him like a gentle wave, yet beneath that cool exterior, you could see the spark of mischief in his eyes, especially when they met yours.

“Wow, he really went all out,” Arin murmured beside you, her voice a mix of surprise and admiration. “He must’ve bleached the whole thing. I didn’t think Jungwon had that in him.”

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure while your heart raced. “Yeah… surprising, isn’t it?” you replied, though a smile betrayed your nonchalance as you watched him navigate the crowd like he owned the place.

Unaware of the true significance of his transformation, your classmates continued their commentary. “Looks good on him, though,” one girl remarked, her tone infused with genuine admiration. “Like he was meant to have it all along.”

Jungwon seemed completely unfazed by the attention, wearing his new look with a blend of pride and ease, as if his blonde hair was a badge of honor that only you understood. It was a mark that connected the two of you in ways that no one else could fathom—an intimate secret wrapped in boldness.

As the hallway thinned out, he lingered by his locker, his casual demeanor slipping just a bit as he caught your gaze from across the hall. He lifted a hand, brushing back his hair with an effortless charm that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach—a subtle nod to the secret you shared.

You walked over, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. “It suits you,” you said, keeping your voice low, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

His eyes softened, gratitude shimmering in their depths. “Good to know,” he murmured, his tone low but filled with warmth. “After all, it’s your fault it looks this good.”

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice even more as he added, “And don’t worry. The secret’s safe.”

In that crowded hallway, with laughter and footsteps echoing around you, it felt like you and Jungwon were enveloped in your own little world. His blonde hair, like a silent vow, was a reminder of what only the two of you understood: a hidden connection, pulsing with promise and anticipation, waiting to be explored.

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luveline · 4 months ago

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Hii! I'm in love with your Hotch adult daughter fics. Could we get one where she is getting bullied in college or where she works and then Hotch finds out somehow and helps her? Please please :)

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.2k

He decides to surprise you. He’s at risk of embarrassing himself greatly, and he’s okay with that risk.

Hotch stands outside of the George Washington University and winces in the hot weather. The sun beats down on the back of his neck. He’s more aware of how little sun protection he uses as the time stretches on, waiting for you, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s worn full suits in the Nevada desert.

You emerge from the main building where your last class for the day takes place. He dropped you off here last week, got to watch you walk in and say hi to the custodian. It was a nice insight of who you are, someone he’s proud to be the father of though he had little hand in what you’ve become.

Behind you are two female classmates.

Hotch pauses under the tree he’d taken refuge by.

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see the rigidity of your shoulders, your hackles rising as they talk. The brunette gets a nasty look on her face, to which you respond, and the blonde’s volume begins to rise.

The brunette looks like she might reach for you. “Don’t touch me,” you warn.

Hotch steps in.

“Hey, excuse me,” he says, loudly and firmly, the Unit Chief tone in play. He’s gotten very good at raising his voice without shouting. “What’s going on here?”

The two women who were talking to you falter, but the brunette stays fiery. “We’re just talking.”

“About what?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“If you’re going to lay your hands on her, it becomes my business,” he says.

There’s a guilt to the blonde’s expression that proves you’d been thinking correctly and that she was going to touch you, even if it were only to grab your wrist, but she bristles and denies. “We weren’t.”

“Then you have no reason to stay.”

You frown deeply. “No, they can finish. Clearly they think it’s important–”

“But do you think it’s important?” Hotch asks you.

Your frown, your anger beginning to ebb. You take a breath. “I suppose not.”

Hotch levels the women with a look. Just a look, not interrogative or heated, but prompting —it’s the kind of look he gives people when he wants them to realise they’ve missed their cue to leave.

“See you next week, then,” the brunette says, a threat he abhors.

“I’m sure she will,” he says, hoping anything unsaid is felt. He has no idea who they are or what you’ve apparently done to make them angry, but you won’t be intimidated.

“Do I need to talk with Dean Langley?” he asks, turning to you as the women walk out of hearing range.

“Aaron.” You look at him, look like him, not in appearance but the pinch to your brow as you rub the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“What?”

“They do it to me every time I’m here.”

“They do?”

You sound like it’s a chore. “They think I’m sleeping with our professor.”

“Why would they think that?”

“Because ever since I stopped working, my grades are much better, n’ they think I cheated my way there.”

Oh, of course. Hotch tries to do something good by you —he’s started giving you a little chunk of money every week so you don’t have to work anymore, nothing obsequious but enough to cover everything you need, rent and food and transportation, clothes, textbooks, and he made it clear you can ask for more— and it makes things worse for you instead. Still, “Your grades are improving?”

“I’m doing pretty well,” you confess shyly.

He holds your shoulder. “I’m sorry they’re jealous, and I’m sorry they’re inventing a narrative to cope. I really can speak with Dean Langley if you need me to.”

You smile and let yourself lean into his touch. “Inventing a narrative to cope,” you repeat. “That’s a good one. I’ll use that one.”

You have more fight in you, it seems. “If it gets too much, just let me know. You don’t have to entertain their delusion.”

“I’ll use that one, too.”

He laughs, hand sliding behind your back to hug you from the side, his nose briefly pressing to your temple before he gives you space again. “I was hoping I’d catch you on your way out, are you busy? Let me take you to dinner, celebrate your performance.”

“You realise I wouldn’t have improved without your help?” you ask.

“I think any parent in my position should provide for their kid,” he says easily. “It’s not help. Not everyone can support their children through college, but I can, and I wish I had been from the start.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say.

He nudges you into a walk toward his car. “I owe you more than you realise.”

He takes you to an early dinner, and celebrates your improving grades with the dessert of your choosing. Conversation with you can sometimes feel strange. It’s hard to think you were a kid once and he’d never met you, but then he realises how young twenty two really is, how you’re still willing, longing for him to be a father to you. You’re smug that he’d go to the dean to for you. You like that he stepped in. And you love being doted on, being encouraged. He can see that easily.

“When can I come back to see Jack?” you ask eventually.

He wishes he could say whenever you like, but he has a hard time following Haley’s movements. “I’ll ask. Soon, I promise.”

“He took great care of me.”

The last time you’d stayed over, Jack acted like you were the best thing since sliced bread (which you are, in Hotch’s eyes).

“You know, he had a little trouble with bullies last year.”

“They aren’t bullies,” you say, taking a bashful bite of your ice cream.

“No, of course not. But he’ll understand, if you want to tell him about it.”

“Aaron, he’s five.”

“He’s six,” he corrects.

“Oh, sorry. But still, I don’t think Jack wants to deal with that. I couldn’t unload on him, he’s my… you know, he’s my little brother.”

“Then tell me about it, at least.”

“You saw the most of it.”

He sighs. Wishes you’d call him dad, understands why you don’t, and can’t think of what to do. It was easier when Jack had trouble, because little kids bully each other almost on accident. They don’t know what they’re doing is wrong, having learned the behaviour from their parents. It’s almost never personal.

Your situation is not the same.

“I’ll talk to the dean,” he suggests again.

“Don’t bother. It’s alright. And if it gets worse, I’ll tell you.”

He smiles, reaching over plates to squeeze your hand briefly. “Thank you.”

You look down at your food. Some shyness to you still at being cared about. “Thank you,” you mumble.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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sooniebby · 1 year ago

Text

I’m back…had a random thought when listening to men moaning and I just had to write it for y’all.. you know the drill, bottom male reader, reader is mentioned to have a cock

Smut fic—in which reader has the terrible experience of being able to read minds. It was fun at first when you first found out at age ten.. but then it just got bad because you couldn’t control it

Hearing your mom’s thoughts about your dad was traumatizing to say the least. As you grew older, you basically learned to tune people out by filling your head with your own thoughts. It usually works.

And it was your usual day in your philosophy class at the university you dreamed of going to.. and it was the usual in that you sat next to this random girl who slept the entire time. Which was good, you didn’t have to worry about her thoughts.

But much to your surprise, someone sat next to you. It was pretty shocking. This guy was “popular” in the sense he was handsome and everyone wanted to be near him.

He usually only sat next to his friends but today he was next to you..? Odd—but you didn’t care that much. You now had to focus on making sure his thoughts didn’t distract you from your professor..

But you did want to take a little peak—just to see what a guy like him would be thinking. At most, you expected him to be focused on taking notes

This guy… is he an actor, you thought to yourself. He looked to be paying attention but the only thing on his mind was sex.. with you.

And not just a fleeting glimpse of sex. it was.. wow, pretty graphic.

He was fantasizing about fucking you in an empty classroom. The classroom you two were in right now. You sprawled on the teacher’s desk, back arched with your legs being pushed towards you.

He was fucking you. Very harsh. He had a very vivid dream of how you’d look fucked out on the table—your moans filling the empty classroom.

His fantasy was solely on you. How you cried, how you arched your back, how you whined his name.. suddenly, he was holding tightly on your neck, lightly squeezing it while his thrusts began to practically knock your breath away.

“You sound so cute.. but you can be louder, yeah?” His fantasy self said to you, reaching down and slapping your ass which earned a scream. Which embarrassingly enough caused you to flinch in real life.

Okay, that’s enough..! You thought to yourself, looking away with a blush. Holy shit. This random guy… was dreaming about having sex with you?! But you guys didn’t even speak.. why.. did he like you?

You couldn’t help but glance over at him, trying hard to not let his thoughts flood your mind again. He was certainly hot—which made sense why a lot girls kept fangirling about him.. Black hair slicked back with gel, a nice nose, plump lips girls were jealous of, a lean body, cat-like eyes..

why was he into you?

He could have anyone.. but he’s thinking about you?

By accident, a slip of his thoughts flooded you again. He wasn’t thinking about sex anymore, he was actually focused on his notes. With a sigh, you decided to believe you were just going crazy and took a sip from your water bottle.

‘His mouth is so small.. would it actually be able to fit around my cock?’

You coughed heavily as water slipped out of your mouth. Much to your shock, the perverted guy handed you some tissues to wipe your mouth. You muttered a thank you, cleaning your chin and mouth.

Jesus, this guy is going to be the death of you.

‘He’s so cute…I hope he likes guys…’

You sighed, happy that he was finally thinking about you normally.

‘Ah.. what if it was my cum instead of water on his lips..? Oh, too much don’t wanna pop a boner in class.’

You could only cough once more in shock and cover your ears. Oh, you needed him away from you fast. But it seemed like he was going to actually start pursuing you soon..

But what you really wondered is if you could survive hearing his thoughts on a daily basis.. and by the embarrassing boner you were sporting right now

Yeah, you were going to be having boners in philosophy often.

‘Does he even like giving blowjobs..? Hope so.. it’d be hot cumming in his mouth..having it overflow.. oops, boner!’

This was going to be a long day…

My first ever one where the guy actually thinks and technically talks… :0! This was fun if you guys want, I’ll definitely expand on it. For now, Imma continue the roommate for tmmr <3

Yoga instructor is coming soon, can’t wait to have an actual fic for him, it’ll be in 2nd person!

Tag list: @nakedtoasterr @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life69 @kiiyoooo @the-ultimate-librarian @iwishtobeacrow (ask to added to my tag list to be tagged in all of my works :3)

#bottom male reader #uke male reader #oc x reader #smut drabble #smut ideas #mlm nsft #mlm ns/fw #x male reader #smut prompts

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ariascoven · 1 month ago

Text

✹ ── WORK FOR IT.

PAIRING : professor!lilia calderu x reader

CONTENT + WARNINGS : female reader. legal age gap. power imbalance. annoyed lilia. pet names (darling, baby, angel, sweetheart & little one). smut. hair pulling. semi-public sex. oral and fingering (lilia receiving). praise and degradation kink. mommy kink, reader calls lilia mamma. marking, biting and hickeys. nursing kink, no lactation.

WORD COUNT : 2.9k

A/N : keep in mind i have no idea how university works. i didn't even finish high school lmao, don't expect much from me

AO3 | MASTERLIST

Shit, shit, shit. You fucked up. You fucked up terribly - and uncharacteristically - bad. With your busy schedule and scrambled brain, you ended up completely forgetting about the upcoming test with Ms. Calderu. Your heart clenched just from the mere thought of leaving the woman you admired so much disappointed, dreading the stern look you would receive from those brown eyes the moment you stepped into the classroom hours late, after her class had already ended.

Your hurried footsteps were the only sound echoing around the empty hallways, given everyone else was in their respective classrooms, but you knew Lilia’s was empty at the moment, the older woman being probably the only one. Your breath came in gasps as you quickened the speed of your pace, practically running like a crazed woman through the university building in hopes of reaching your destination in time — although the clock on your wrist told you that was an impossible thing to happen. Panting, you pushed the huge door open with a loud bang.

With wide eyes, you were immediately met with a familiar grey-haired woman sitting behind her desk, the fancy glasses framing her stern face stealing the breath from your lungs — a sight you would usually melt for. Instead, the cold gaze she shot up made your arms drop loosely by your sides in shame, head tipping down as the floor suddenly became incredibly interesting.

“Come closer.” She ordered, voice rough, the demanding tone she used inflicting unwanted feelings on your body. Slowly, you dragged your feet across the empty room and towards her. Lilia watched in complete silence, impatiently tapping her pen against the surface of her desk, covered with papers and an unfinished mug of black coffee. Her narrowed eyes scanned your body as you stopped in front of her desk, head downcast.

God, you couldn't even face the woman. She had showered you with praise and compliments when you told her you were the first student to arrive for the English test just a few days back, only for you to commit such a huge mistake when it came to hers — the test she said you would flawlessly get the highest grade of the class, as always. After being so late, you knew she wouldn’t allow you to take the test. You fought back the urge to cry.

“Three hours ago.” She spoke slowly in a tone lower than usual, dragging out each word as if to make her point as clear as day. “You have the audacity to walk into my classroom three hours late.” Her anger only grew at your avoidance, eyes locked onto your feet and stubbornly refusing to look at her. She crossed her arms over the desk, leaning forward and speaking louder.

“When I speak,” she began, the noise of her pen dropping onto the desk louder than it should be and making you wince. “I expect you to look at me and not at the floor, young lady.” She observed intently as you looked up, taking way too long and deepening her annoyance — first, it was your irresponsibility with the test, and then you move like you’re in slow motion while she just wants to get the damned conversation over with.

A shiver ran down your spine and raised goosebumps on your skin when you met the older woman’s gaze. Your hands found their way to your chest, fingers entwined and fiddling with each other as you remained quiet, waiting for her to resume her scolding; a well deserved one.

“I don’t even have the words to describe what I’m feeling right now because disappointment doesn't even begin to grasp the concept of it.” The words slipping from your adored professor’s lips cut right through your heart like a sword aimed to kill, the tears threatening to spill from your eyes becoming harder to fight against as your lips trembled.

“You don’t need to be so mean.” You said quietly, barely above a whisper, voice trembling. Your stomach turned at the pure annoyance displayed on Lilia’s face, eyes narrowing further as she clicked her tongue. You noticed the way she gripped the edge of her desk — something she only did when her anger was getting the best of her, usually shown before she yelled at a student, which she rarely did. Fuck, you were screwed.

“Darling, you have no idea how mean I can get when someone I put my entire trust in fails me.” She almost growled, eyes darkening. “One hour, I could maybe forgive. But three? That’s just testing my patience.” She shook her head subtly. And she was right. Being on time was one of the rules she could never forgive a student for breaking, but for you, exceptions had always been made. But three hours would be stretching it, especially during exam season — especially when it was the most important test of the semester.

“Lilia—” you tried to speak, but were quickly cut off by the woman herself, sounding louder.

“It’s Ms. Calderu to you.” Your eyes widened. Neither you or her could remember how long you’d been on a first name basis. Calling her Lilia was never a problem, so hearing her snap at you because of that shocked you speechless, lips parted as you could only stare in disbelief.

The beat of silence that followed the exchange made you shift uncomfortably, the room heaving with tension and unspoken feelings. You had an idea to repair the situation, something that would make Lilia stop being mad at you and maybe, just maybe, could recover your lost grade. Deciding to give it a shot, you swallowed thickly.

“Ms. Calderu,” you breathed out, obeying and stepping closer to the desk. Your hands found their way to the wood surface, body leaning down just the slightest bit, all of that without breaking eye contact even for a split second. “I’m truly sorry. I acknowledge my irresponsibility and that I committed a huge mistake, and I am fully willing to repair it. Is there any chance you could allow me to take the test? I would do anything.”

The implication in your words was no secret, clear for anyone to hear. Lilia wasn’t dumb. She paused for a few moments, eyes raking over your body before meeting yours once more. She hummed in thought, leaning back against her chair and tilting her head to the side. “Anything, you say?” The words dripped from her lips in a purr, one that made you throb with need.

You hummed in agreement, eyes glimmering with shaky confidence as you tried to keep your cool. At the confirmation, she spread her legs fully and nodded down, a silent request — or rather, a silent order. The message was understood immediately, and you moved just as quickly. You found your way under her desk and between her legs, staring up with puppy eyes and caressing her thighs over the smooth fabric of her pants.

Her hand found its way to your head, gripping a fistful of hair with a grip so bruising it made you wince and whine in pain. She pulled your head back with a harsh tug. “If you want a good grade,” her free hand reached down to trace imaginary patterns on the exposed skin of your neck, making you shiver. “You need to work for it.”

She didn’t have to say anything more, those words being enough to have you desperately pulling the zipper of her pants down. She helps you pull the pants down to her ankles by lifting her hips, lust filled eyes studying your every movement. In all honesty, it wouldn't be the first time you’d done something like this with Lilia, nor the first time you’d done it inside the classroom, but she’d always close the door and lock it. This time, though, you knew the door was unlocked — you didn’t think about closing it, not expecting the scolding to turn into something more.

The possibility of getting caught made your heart thump rapidly against your chest as you pulled her underwear to the side. Although the professor’s favorite thing in the world was teasing you, she wasn’t one to be teased. She noticed your eagerness to please her and couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, the sound turning into a gasp when your tongue met her flesh.

You let out a pleased hum, eyes fluttering. God, you missed it — the sweetest thing your tongue ever had the pleasure to taste. Your tongue moved gently, sliding up and down in small kitten licks against her wet folds, relishing in the moans she let out whenever your nose brushed against her clit. She held onto your hair once more, pushing your face further into her pussy. Your scalp burned under the rough treatment, but nothing would possibly make you stop.

Lilia groaned in annoyance when the kitten licks stopped, but quickly melted when your pretty lips wrapped around her clit and sucked on it harshly. “Just like that, baby.” The next groan was a sound of pure pleasure, her head falling backwards and resting against the chair as her eyes closed. You always knew just what to do to make her feel good, and it was moments like this that reminded her just how much she needed you. No one could make her see stars the way that you did, ever.

“Good girl.” She praised, voice sounding breathless. She ran her fingers through your hair, hips bucking up against your face, seeking her pleasure. Her movements stuttered when she felt her climax approaching — way too quickly for her own liking. How was it possible? How did you make her cum so fast without fail, every single time she allowed you to touch her in secret? “Fuck, angel…” she moaned, the sound causing your own hips to buck against the floor, like nothing but a stupid and needy puppy in heat.

“Goodness… you’re such a little slut, aren’t you?” You moaned against her, the words only serving to make you embarrassingly wet, soaking through your underwear. “Eating your teacher out, and for what? To recover the grade you were incompetent enough to lose. You dumb baby…” Lust clouded your mind and turned forming coherent thoughts an impossible task to complete with the way her hips bucked against your face and the words leaving her lips — degrading, but that, for some reason, made you feel like the most special girl in the whole universe.

The noises slipping past her lips became louder, shameless, as your tongue began delving deeper, exploring every inch of her. Your gaze never faltered from her eyes as you kept tongue-fucking her, feeling dizzy with the way her scent filled your nostrils. Your own breathing became ragged, coming in small gasps, feeling her walls fluttering. It was an indicator that a final push was all she needed to cum on the spot. And you craved it; the taste of it, the smell of it, the warmth of it on your tongue and running down your throat as you lapped up everything she had to offer you.

“Fucking hell!” Her eyes widened, words coming out in an exclaim of surprise at the two fingers that plunged inside of her without previous warning, her walls clamping down, trying to accommodate them. Not very difficult to do so, with the way she was dripping, thighs glistening with her own wetness. What a sight to behold.

You focused on the movements of your hand, fingers thrusting in and out of Lilia at a steady, hard pace. Your lips latched onto the wet skin of her thighs, distributing licks and open-mouthed kisses. When you began planting hickeys all over her, leaving a trail of purple marks that definitely wouldn’t go away so soon, that was the breaking point, curse after curse falling from her lips.

Hickeys and love bites had always been one of her weaknesses, and you knew it damn well. The thought of marking someone drove her wild and made her possessive side flare up, hence why your poor skin was always left covered in bruises after your meetings behind closed doors. The fact you wanted to claim her as yours made her mind spin, fingers tightening their grip onto your hair and hips moving at a frantic pace.

“Does that feel good, mamma?” You questioned softly, the vibrations coming from your voice against Lilia’s skin eliciting a gasp from her. She looked down with heavy lidded eyes and nodded, humming as her teeth tugged at her bottom lip.

“You’re so good for mamma, sweetheart. Knows just how— ah!” She moaned, eyes shutting when your digits began hitting her g-spot over and over again. “Just how to make mamma melt for you.” Her hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, gripping it to keep you close.

Your cunt throbbed at the sight of Lilia cupping her own breast, hand sliding under the fabric of her shirt to fondle with the plump flesh. You wanted to taste her there too, to latch onto her nipple and never let go. Flashbacks of your first time with the woman replayed in the back of your mind, her words coming back to remind you of your place. “Always remember, little one. You can only have mamma’s tits after you make her cum.”

The echo inside your brain encouraged you to add a third finger inside her, moaning at the same time she did, completely obsessed with the way her eyes rolled back with the stretch. You curled your fingers with each thrust, palm deliciously hitting her clit with each movement. You started to give the bundle of nerves attention once more, sucking and flicking your tongue against it. Lilia’s pussy gripped your fingers like a vice, clenching and pulling them deeper inside her.

“God, what would I do without you?” She asked, more to herself than to you, in a broken whisper. Her free hand moved from holding onto the armrest of the chair to her mouth, and she bit down onto it to muffle the embarrassingly loud noises coming from the usually composed woman. With lips still wrapped around her clit, you smiled, that overwhelming sense of pride washing over you at the way you easily broke your professor. How many people had the honor to say they’ve had Lilia Calderu melting for them like that? You didn’t want to know the real answer, holding onto the only one you knew — you could.

“Mamma, please cum for me?” Sparkling puppy eyes stared up at the woman as you pleaded. “Need your tits in my mouth, mamma.” If there was one thing in the world Lilia was a hundred percent sure of, was that you would be the death of her. You were a tempting little thing, with your big adoring eyes; and she wouldn’t trade having you begging her to cum for anything else.

She let out a muffled groan and her body arched from the chair as she felt the familiar coil in her stomach snap, an exploding orgasm turning her vision white. She trembled, a chain of profanities falling from her lips like a sinful chant as she found her release, coating your hand. You lapped up every drop with hunger, letting out needy moans and soft hums, the desperate sounds making it clear you could remain the way for the rest of your existence, if there was a possibility.

A rough grunt was heard as she slumped back down onto the chair, head falling backwards. Removing your fingers, you brought them to your lips and sucked them clean, observing the way Lilia’s chest moved with her heavy breathing. Like the obedient thing you were, you stayed in your kneeling position between her legs, waiting for the woman to come down from her high patiently.

When she looked down, with dazed brown eyes and a thin layer of sweat covering her face, she offered you a lazy side grin. A hand patted her thigh, inviting you to take your favorite seat. Without a second thought, you obeyed, climbing onto her lap and immediately fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. She chuckled, shaking her head in amusement, hands finding your waist.

She sighed in contentment as you fred her breasts from the shirt and pulled her bra down, taking a nipple into your mouth. “You know, I could lose my job over this.” She spoke softly, fingers rubbing the skin under your shirt in a gentle caress, gazing lovingly at her little angel all curled up on her lap and getting drunk off her tits.

“Why do you even like this so much, hm? It’s not like there’s any milk, there.” She loved poking fun at you over your fondness of her breasts, being able to stay in that exact same position for hours, if given the chance. You only batted your lashes up at her, causing her to chuckle once more, incredulous. “You’re out of this world, little one.”

You closed your eyes, feeling at home — rather ironic, to say the least, that your definition of home was being on your university history professor’s lap, being held like a baby with her breast inside your mouth while you could still taste her cum on your tongue. Your eyes opened when you remembered the reason you got on your knees in the first place. You looked up, reluctantly pulling away from her tit to speak, but she cut off any words you wanted to say.

“You got the highest grade, by the way.”

dividers made by cafekitsune

images found on pinterest

#written for aria’s coven ♡#lilia calderu #agatha all along #patti lupone #lilia calderu x reader #patti lupone x reader #wlw fanfic #fxf smut #professor x reader

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anordinarymuse · 7 months ago

Text

unrecognizable.

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary: big fight leading to breakup :(

Warnings: angst, established relationship

Word Count: a little less than 1k perhaps

a/n : dialogue mildly based off of real life + if anyone wants to submit angst requests (possibly including dialogue or song inspo🥹🥹) pls do!! trying to get back into it

navigation.

request here.

Arms were crossed as you faced the freshly discharged from the hospital wing Draco, your cheeks hot from anger and frustration. It was the day after Katie Bell returned from St. Mungos, and the rumors were that Draco had cursed her—and you knew it was the truth.

Once you witnessed Draco’s reaction in the Great Hall and found him after his fight with Harry, you clicked two and two together. All the times he was “up late night studying” or “asking professors last minute homework questions,” he was actually working on the cursed necklace.

“This is how you are Y/N. It doesn’t matter what I say. I tell the truth, you’d be upset. I tell a white lie, you’re still upset!” Draco shouts, his voice echoing off the walls of the abandoned classroom the two of you had been fighting in for what felt like forever now.

“Fine. You’re right I’m still upset, but-” You take a small step backward, noticing he’s grabbed a ruler to fidget with. “The truth counts for something.”

Draco bites the inner of his cheek before responding coldly, “I can’t say anything because if your other friends finds out, then it’ll be my neck at the end of the Dark Lord’s wand, not theirs. Everything I’m working on it’s- it’s too important to be fucked up.”

This selfish asshole, you thought to yourself. Draco convinced himself that he wasn’t like the others, convinced you even, but he truly was no different.

“You almost killed Katie Bell. Can’t you get that in your head? You almost killed her,” the images of Katie’s still and ghostly state, from when you visited her at St. Mungos, flicker like a reel in your mind. “Is it a crime to try and save her life?!”

“See, right there. That’s why you can’t know the truth. I can’t trust you. I can’t trust you with my life because you’re busy trying to save theirs!” And there it goes, your breath hitches as Draco violently chucks the rules across the room. It flies right past your cheek, cracks against the wall, and clatters against the floor.

“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N. You’re supposed to be on my side,” Draco asserts darkly, slowly brooding toward you. With each step he takes forward, you take one back, until your back hits the wall behind you.

“Your side? And what side are you on Draco?” You challenge him angrily.

You search his gaze for the Draco you’d called your own, and he’s not there—only a stranger. Instead, Draco’s glare sends chills down your spine, and the hope that he’d come around begins to crackle and snap just like the ruler he had flung.

“Maybe…maybe it’s time we call this,” you attempt to say calmly, though your lip visibly quivers and the words leave your tongue a bitter aftertaste.

Draco furrows his brow, taken aback, “What? Don’t throw away everything we have because you’re pissed off.”

You avoid eye contact, but Draco, as a last saving grace, reaches to gently cup your cheek he says softly, “Y/N, I love you, you know this-“

“You don’t trust me, and you can’t tell me the truth,” you interrupt quietly, turning your cheek just slightly away from Draco’s palm, “This love you’re talking about, that- that can’t be enough.”

Draco takes a step back, and his facade dissipates. “Do you want to be next victim? If I tell you sensitive information Y/N, it makes you the target. Better Katie Bell than you.”

“Do you hear yourself right now? It’s mental.“

“You can’t leave me. You’re all I have-“

“No, I’m not. If I were, you wouldn’t concern yourself with the offensive actions of He Who Must Not Be Named.”

Draco goes silent, and you take it as an opportunity strike again.

“You tell me this-” you grab his forearm to reveal the Dark Mark, at your touch his body cringes, but you force yourself to ignore his discomfort, “-means nothing to you, but it does.”

Draco tears his wrist from your grasp before replying weakly, “I have no choice, Y/N.”

You study him long and hard, words collecting at your lips, but you don’t know how to express them. He doesn’t get it, he won’t ever understand.

With that in mind, you pivot toward the door. Immediately, Draco launches forward, grabbing your wrist and tugging you backward. His other hand rises to your chin, turning your face to look him directly in the eye, “Don’t. Walk away from me, and it’s really over,”

It sounded dramatic and cruel. But you knew what he meant—no more protection to keep the dark side from reaching you. One step and all the safeguards would vanish.

“It’s for the best. I know you know it too,” you say in a low whisper as a single tear slides down your cheek.

With that his grip on your wrist loosens, and your hand falls to your side. His warmth dissipating leaves chills down your spine, the clock above the chalkboard reverberates with each tick, and any last words have slipped from your mind. You tear your eyes away from Draco’s, whose expression has turned from cold to unforgiving, rather unrecognizable.

**********

taglist: @marimorena06 @missryerye

@agirlwholovescoffee @nicole198205 @siriuspvdfoot @hufflepuffflowers-blog @peachykeen3502 @youngblood199456 @oranee @bobbyjohnsonbeat @will-to-live-who @bellatrixscurls @thegirlwhocriedlupin @wwweasleystan @modernvellichor @lolaperezb @zaraskyla @sirisuorionblack @rinbyo @xdancinggurlx @lupinsravenclaw @hogwarts-boys @inglourious-imagines @siriuslyslyslytherin @the-abyss-gazed-back @eunoia-kth @kaqua @story-scribbler @youreso-golden @natural-ikagai

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muiitoloko · 23 days ago

Note

Can you please write an Alan x reader inspired by this interview https://www.instagram.com/reel/DBGX1UaqeDI/?igsh=aWNkcXM5eHQ5ODho

The faces he makes are so freaking adorable and his hair is so so perfect in this length

Title: Charming in the Details

Summary: Alan Rickman navigates post-interview banter with his signature wit and warmth, while his admirer finds herself captivated by his unruly hair and irresistible charm.

Warnings: None

Author's Note: Honestly, I was completely out of ideas on what to write, but I gave it a shot and hope you like what I came up with! It’s just something short, but those adorable faces and that perfect hair of his were definitely the inspiration I needed. Let me know what you think!

Also read on Ao3

Alan stepped out of the building where the interview had just wrapped, his stride purposeful but relaxed. His hazel eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on you, and his lips curved into that familiar, lopsided smile. Without a word, he reached for your hand, his long fingers curling around yours as he guided you toward the car.

"You were brilliant," you said, squeezing his hand as the two of you walked. "Really, Alan. The way you handled those questions about Nobel Son—smart, witty, completely charming. And can I just say, you looked great doing it?"

Alan gave you a sidelong glance, his hooked nose wrinkling slightly in amusement. "You’ve mentioned it once or twice," he said dryly, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his pleasure.

"I mean it," you insisted, your eyes glinting with mischief. "That hair of yours, Alan… You look like pure sin with it grown out like this. Honestly, it’s almost distracting."

He rolled his hazel eyes, shaking his head as a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "You’ve been relentless about the hair," he said, his baritone voice laced with mock exasperation. "Ever since I stopped cutting it, you’ve turned into my personal cheerleader."

"Because it suits you," you replied, leaning into him as you walked. "You look distinguished. A little dangerous. Like the kind of professor who teaches more than just chemistry."

Alan raised an eyebrow at you, his arm sliding around your shoulders as he pulled you closer. "You mean the kind of professor who’d get fired for entirely inappropriate behavior," he teased, his voice low and rich.

"Exactly," you said with a grin. "Though I doubt Eli Michaelson would mind that reputation."

Alan groaned softly, but his amusement was clear. "Eli Michaelson. What a man. If I ever start resembling him too closely, promise me you’ll intervene."

"I’d never let you," you said, laughing. "You’re far too charming and self-aware for that. Besides, Eli could never pull off your hair."

"Ah, there it is again," Alan said with a smirk. "Back to the hair."

"Because it’s magnificent," you teased, reaching up to brush a strand away from his forehead. "And you know it."

Alan rolled his eyes again but didn’t protest. Instead, he steered you toward the car, opening the door for you with a flourish. Once inside, he settled into the driver’s seat and turned to you with a thoughtful look.

"Speaking of indulgences," he said, changing the subject with a casual air, "what do you think about getting some coffee? I could really use a slice of pie right now."

"Pie?" you repeated, grinning at the unexpected suggestion. "I didn’t know you were such a pie enthusiast."

"I’m not sure enthusiast is the right word," Alan said, his lips twitching with amusement. "But there’s something satisfying about a good piece of pie. And after that interview, I think I’ve earned it."

"You absolutely have," you agreed, leaning back in your seat. "Lead the way, Professor Sin."

Alan chuckled, shaking his head as he started the car. "If I’d known growing out my hair would lead to this, I might have done it sooner," he said, his tone wry but fond.

"And deprive us all of your short-hair era? Never," you replied, laughing.

As he drove, Alan’s arm rested casually on the console between you, his fingers brushing against yours now and then. The conversation flowed effortlessly, peppered with clever quips and the kind of easy banter that always made your time together feel like the best kind of indulgence. And as the city blurred past the windows, you couldn’t help but think that pie with Alan Rickman might just be the perfect way to end the day.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #eli michaelson

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twohearts-hs · 6 months ago

Text

Always & Forever Three - Marshall Mathers x Reader Series

Words: 6.4k

Pairings: Marshall Mathers x Fem!Reader Series

Synopsis;: They loved each other with every fibre and being. They knew that they were meant to be together, but it seemed like every obstacle came in the way. She was twenty-one, he was forty and they knew that it would be hard. Therefore, they promised forever and always as they were meant to be together despite every turmoil that came their way.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol, Light Smut & Angst. More warnings will come throughout the series.

|| Masterlist for Series ||

Hope you enjoy :)

Marshall dropped her off. It was nearly two in the morning when he pulled up to the studio apartment on the other side of town. The car stood out in this side of town but as he pulled up to the apartment. He turned to her and saw her sweet face.

“This is me,” Y/N said with a smile as she gathered her things. “Do you want to come in?” There was hope in her eyes as she asked that question. She meant it innocently as she had such a terrific time.

Marshall knew what she was doing and he could not be that guy to her. She wanted a quick fix and he wanted friendship. He wanted compassion. He wanted…what did he truly want from her? It did not matter at that moment, as simply he wanted her.

Marshall swallowed hard from that question. In the years he had lived he had never been so tempted but as she said those words, he shook his head.

“I have to go. My daughters are home-“

“Right.”

Awkward silence arose as they stared at one another, not knowing what to say next. Instead, Y/N settled with…

“Well,” she said, pulling her things and opening the door. “I will see you soon.”

“You do have my number,” he said with a chuckle.

“I do.”

Silence arose as she opened the door, and all Marshall gave was a curt nod and smile to her.

“Stay gold, Ponyboy,” he stated, and Y/N chuckled.

“You read?” she asked.

“No, but everyone knows that quote.”

Y/N laughed slightly before bidding her farewell. Then she walked away. Marshall stayed till he saw the lights turn on in her window, knowing she was back home safely. He took a deep breath and then drove off.

There was something about her and he could not believe it. Three times she waltzed into his life. Three random times. A part of him was bothered by the Sam situation, however he knew this was nothing he could control.

If she wanted to sleep around, she could. Who was he to judge? She was young and had life in her.

But there was something so familiar about her. It was oddly familiar, and he wanted it. But what was it? She was a form of comfort.

Y/N sat in class, pen in her hand as she tapped it against the desk. Her professor went on about artists of the high Renaissance, however, she did not seem to listen or care in that moment. She could not help but think of Marshall and the night they had three days ago. It was fun, comforting and a start of something new. She loved every minute being in his presence and she dreamed of it again.

He was a beautiful man, there was no denying that. He was witty and smart. He was kind and insightful, but she was slightly offended by some of the words that came out of his lips. However, Marshall wanted to be her friend and Y/N did not have many friends. Making friends in a new city as well as being in twenties was hard.

She had Meira and that was about it.

Y/N loved Meira with everything in her but to have another person in her life sounded divine.

She wanted to see Marshall more. That was a firm decision.

Not because of who he was but rather it was nice to have another person who cared about her. She enjoyed his company.

It’s had been three days and he had yet to reach out to her. He had her number, but she was just at fault as well. Y/N had his number too.

The class was boring her and instead of focusing on the professor she looked at her phone and composed a message.

10:02 a.m.

To Marshall: Hey, its Y/N.

Instantly, she got a message back.

10:03 a.m.

From Marshall: Hey, Y/N. What’s up?

To Marshall: Not much. I am in class and boredom is getting the best of me.

From Marshall: You should pay attention in class.

To Marshall: I could but then I would be bored. What’s your plan for the evening?

From Marshall: Fair. Just mixing sounds.

To Marshall: Want to do something?

From Marshall: Sure. Come to the studio?

Y/N agreed to his comment before paying back attention to class. Minutes later her phone lit up again but not by someone she wanted to talk to.

10:12 a.m.

From Sam: Hey! What are you up to tonight? Want to come to mine? Sorry about other night…

Instead, she found herself closing the phone and going back to class.

What was Sam? A moment to fulfil her needs. She liked the sex, sure. It was not the best sex ever, but it did the deed. A woman had her needs and sex was one of them. Was she attracted to him? His quiff of blonde hair and blue eyes with freckles. His ability to manipulate any situation and to be very charismatic. He was just the moment. He was just a filler.

When the class finished, she met up with Meira at the library. Settling beside her, she brought out her paper and laptop to work on the essay that was due in the next while. However, her mind could not help but turn to Marshall.

What was he doing right now? Was he thinking about her? However, she brushed those thoughts out. Why would Marshall be thinking about her? Simply, she was just a girl.

“What is on your mind, boo?” Meira said as she settled beside her.

“Am I a whore for liking sex?”

Meira shook her head. “If you’re a whore then I am one too.”

“Touché. Sam went off on me the other night and called me a whore.”

Meira raised a brow. “Well, I never did like him. He is very egotistical and only cares about-“

“He is a good lover though. Makes me cum.”

“Yeah, but you should not be sleeping with someone who-“

“If he thinks I am a whore. He is a whore.”

Meira chuckled. “That is one way to say it.”

On the other side of town, Marshall sat in the recording studio with a water in front of him and a half-eaten sandwich. Sam was gone. Fired and done. Easy.

He got rid of him that morning when he walked into the studio.

The two have only met about less than ten times but he cannot call Y/N a whore or names. That was not right therefore, he was fired. He threw a fit but simply, Marshall called it.

“I just don’t like you,” was all he said, “now leave.”

However, when Y/N texted him that morning, he could not help but have a smile on his face. Sweet, innocent Y/N. His friend.

Y/N wore jeans and a black tank with her hair in a lower bun as she opened the door to the studio. She spotted Marshall sitting in the corner, slumped over as he listened to the team talk about the mix. Paul was across from him, standing with his arms crossed as she entered.

Instantly, all eyes were on her.

She pursed her lips and cowered slightly in the corner as four pairs of eyes were on her. Marshall instantly smiled when he spotted her.

“Hi,” she said delicately before giving a small wave.

Paul raised his eyebrow as he looked between Marshall and Y/N. “And you are?”

“Y/N. I am Marshall’s friend,” she stated.

“I have never heard of you-“ Paul tried, but Marshall cut him off.

“She is my friend. My…good friend,” he stated as he got up. Marshall walked to the woman and gave her a brief but sincere hug. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her cheek against his chest. It was good. A good hug.

“How is the day going?” she asked as they broke away.

“Good,” he commented, “better now that you’re here.” His hand lingered on her lower back which made her blush lightly.

“Where is Sam?” she asked.

“Gone. God rid of him,” he said so casually. “Paul,” he introduced shrugging the Sam topic off, “my manager, Ross and Steve my beatmaker and engineer.”

Y/N ignored his introductions and instead focused on the earlier words that came from his lips. “Sam is gone?”

“Fired,” Paul said, “because someone did not like him.”

“Someone…I am guessing you, Marshall?” she rebuked.

He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced at her smaller frame. “So?”

“Is this because-“

“I don’t like him. I don’t vibe with him. I do not like his presence and my music does not need his negativity.”

“You’re calling him negative?” she quipped. “You’re the one who is negative.”

“He is an asshole, Y/N.”

“And you’re not? You fired a man based on his presence.”

“And that he called you a whore. No one calls my friend a whore.”

“There. The truth.”

“You cannot come in here and dictate who is in my life, Y/N. I have known you for three seconds. You don’t know me.”

Y/N scoffed. “The feeling is mutual, Marshall,” she stated as she began to turn around.

“You’re leaving?” he barked.

“Yeah, because you’re right I do not know you so why do I get to be here after all I am a stranger.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” he stated with a scoff and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thanks,” she pipped with a grimace. “Glad to see where you stand in this relationship.”

“Relationship?” he fired back. “What relationship?”

“Friendship. You did offer me your hand in friendship. This is me declining Marshall. I don’t want to be your friend. Obviously, you need to figure out your shit,” she grumped before turning back to the door. “Don’t call me.”

Y/N left. She just walked out of his life just as easy as she walked in.

And Marshall was the fool that let it happen. He was just too stubborn.

Four days later…

Marshall was a fool. He knew he was a loner at heart. Rather dive into the rabbit hole of loneliness and utter silence. However when Y/N walked into his world there was something that just made everything shine a little brighter.

Therefore, he was the fool who ruined this relationship as he made her personal relationship his business. Sam was Y/N’s business not his. He took it personal. Jealously perhaps?

However, it was Friday and he found himself in front of Ted’s diner at eight o’clock. He leaned against his car that was parked in front. He watched the lights brighten the diner up like the fourth of July as Y/N ran around in her jeans and tee with an apron on. Her hair was in a messy bun and her eyeliner was slightly smudged, but he knew she had been working since before he was up.

She was a busy girl with her head on her shoulders and a rounded personality.

He generally liked her company.

Therefore, he needed to clean his mess up. The question was what was he going to say?

‘I am sorry…I got too involved…I made your business my business.’ Or, ‘I like our friendship and I got jealous.’ Honestly, Marshall had no idea what to say.

He kicked the ground lightly before pushing off the hood of his car to walk into the diner. The little bell dinged and suddenly nerves came.

Y/N glanced up from the register to see him and her face fell lightly.

“Hi,” she stated.

She knew this took courage to show up in the middle of downtown of Detroit, in the night when he was this big, known celebrity. She knew there would be cameras soon and then next thing she would appear on the front of the tabloids.

“Hey, Y/N,” he commented before pursing his lips.

“Ted, can I take ten?” she asked her boss who was beside her.

She got the thumbs up from Ted and Y/N nodded to the back where Marshall followed her. Y/N brought him to the staff room and closed the door.

“What are you doing here, Marshall?”

What was he doing here?

“I made your business my business,” he stated as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I took your business and made it personal. However-“

“I like you, Marshall,” she said, “and we can be great friends, but I don’t know you and you do not know me that well. We have literally met less than five times. However, I want to get to know you and I want you to be my friend, but you cannot be all disrespectful and opinionated about my life. I understand you’re double my age, have lived a grand life, have learned from mistakes and you have experience, but I need to figure that out for myself.”

“I understand. But-“

“You’re not my boyfriend. You do not have the right to dictate who I sleep with or who I have in my life.”

“Friends-“

“Girlfriends can have those opinions, Marshall. Meira has told me to stop seeing him as he is an egotistical dude.”

“He is.”

“However, I can sleep with who I want, and you can too,” she said. “We can just be friends.”

Just friends. Just friends. He could do that.

“Then it is settled. We are just friends,” he said with a small smile…a little disappointed but he would not admit that.

“Then Marshall Mathers would you be honoured to do round two of this friendship?” she quipped, and he chuckled.

“I consent,” he quoted her. “You should go back to work,” he pipped.

Y/N sighed and looked beyond him to the clock before glancing back at Marshall. “I am basically off. I can see if I can finesse my way out of another fifteen minutes.”

Y/N rubbed his bicep lightly on her way of walking out of that room finding Ted. She spotted him over the cash register.

“Mind if I ditch slightly early?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks!”

Y/N came back to Marshall who had his hands in his pockets. “Want to grab a non-alcoholic drink?” she suggested.

He chuckled. “It is Friday, and my daughters are out for the evening. We could go back to mine? Dodge the cameras and-“

“Right.” She kept forgetting. The man who was her friend was indeed the infamous Eminem. “Well, that sounds good. I need to stop home and change as I smell like diner however, I can meet you at your place around nine o’clock?” she mused.

Marshall shook his head. “I can just drive you back to your place and then to mine.”

“Sure, if you do not mind.”

“I don’t.”

It was settled. Marshall was going to drive her to her place before going back to his. They were going to talk, get to know each other and then part ways.

However, this was the first official male relationship she had that did not lead to sex. She could not have sex with him. She made that clear to herself. Friendship only.

He was older, he was famous, he was known and she needed a friend more than a sex buddy. He seemed like he had his life together and she needed that.

The Aston Martin was outside. Grey and sleek with such a sex appeal to it. Marshall opened the door for her to get in and she settled with her bag on her lap. He went around and got in the car himself and looked at her as she took her hair down and wiped under her eyes to rid the mascara flakes. She was beautiful.

They drove and had light chatter of what they got up to that day. He learnt that Y/N liked to express her conversations with her hands and broad facial expressions. She was a bottle of life, he concluded.

He pulled in front of the studio apartment and followed her up. She fished in her bag for the keys before opening her 500-square-foot apartment. It was cluttered slightly and the way she styled it made it look smaller than what it was, but it was clean. Marshall glanced around the room, spotting the art supplies on the table with several sketchbooks and textbooks littered.

“You do art?”

Y/N walked to her closet and grabbed a pair of leggings and a hoodie.

“I try. I am going to shower quickly.”

He nodded picking up the sketchbook and opening it. Beautiful drawings of bodies, things, objects and people were in it. He saw she constantly drew the female body in different sizes and shapes. It was not erotic but rather poetic. It was admirable. They were so detailed. He flipped the page to see a man next covered in tattoos. It took him a moment to realise that it was Sam who she drew. His brows furrowed as she drew his body as if she had memorised it.

He knew they were in some form of relationship but for her to draw him made it seem personal. Marshall was an artist himself too but he would never admit it. Y/N said she tried to do art, but she was an artist. This was beautiful, realistic and detailed.

Y/N came out in leggings and a hoodie, hair thrown up in a bun as she grabbed her sneakers and her tote bag.

“You’re an artist,” he stated.

She shrugged. “It’s just doodles. I study art and this is not art. This is just-“

“Like photographs.”

She shook her head. “Thank you but you’re just flattering me.”

Marshall shook his head. “Take the damn compliment, Y/L/N.”

Y/N chuckled and stood in front of the drawings as he flicked through them.

“You drew one of Sam?” he asked.

“Yeah, he has a nice body. Strong Adonis belt, pectorals and firm-“

“Get it,” he stated. “He is Mr. Tough Guy.”

She shook her head. “No, his ego is easily impacted,” Y/N said with a shrug, “always got scared of the other boys.” Y/N wandered grabbing her plate and cup from the morning and placing it in the dishwasher.

“He seemed like he was confident.”

“Most narcissists have very low self-esteem.”

He nodded. “Are you still seeing him?”

She shrugged. “I have a vibrator named Henry and he does the job,” she joked as she went to the door.

Marshall chuckled along to her comment but then tried his best to remove that image from his mind before he got flustered. He won’t admit but he understands the feeling of being in charge of your pleasure. It had been years since he had been with a woman. However, pleasure can easily come.

“If that does the job-“

“Intimacy is a weird thing,” she said as she opened the door and allowed him to exit. “I like being alone but sometimes I just crave someone, ya know?” she commented as she locked up.

Marshall pulled his hood over his hat as he watched her lock the door before walking down the stairs to the car.

“I don’t know. People are complicated.”

“I think relationships are complicated,” she stated as they got into the car.

“Meaning?”

“You were married once...twice actually, so you understand.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, relationships are complicated.”

“My high school sweetheart was amazing, but we decided to go our separate ways even though everyone was dying for us to get married and have babies. I was eighteen.” He listened. “He was a great guy. Got a baseball scholarship to L.A. and am now engaged to some cheerleader. He makes love look so easy and loving him was so easy. When I turned twenty and I started getting back into dating it is so much more complicated than it was in high school.”

Marshall agreed. “Relationships are weird. What do you want then, Y/N?”

“Nothing, just marriage and babies,” she chuckled. Marshall glanced over with wide eyes. “Kidding. God, marriage and babies…now? No, thank you.”

“Do you want marriage and babies eventually?”

“I am a product of a teenage single mom. She made it look so hard raising a child. Then the complications with my dad…I can’t. Maybe when the right person comes along.”

He nodded. “You’re young. Don’t stress it.”

“Not stressing it at all. What about you, Mister I have been alone since the dawn of time?” she hummed.

“I have not been alone since the dawn of time,” he replied, “married for a bit, had a few girlfriends but it is just not interesting for me anymore. I have daughters to raise and music to make. I was crazy back then in my party days and now, I am just older. I guess. More mature.”

She nodded. “Fair enough.”

“When was the last time you were back in Canada?”

“Christmas. The island is beautiful in the winter with the light snow and twinkling lights. The ocean roars with such thunder but the rain soothes one’s soul. I do miss Canada. However, Detroit has grown on me.”

“How?”

“It’s big compared to home and there is an IKEA. We do not have an IKEA on the island.”

“IKEA?”

“Yeah. IKEA is very important especially if you’re a broke student like me who needs to furnish their apartment.��

He chuckled.

“The people are nice. It’s the Midwest but-“

“No ocean? No surfing?” he said, and she nodded.

“I miss small towns. I miss the community. I miss the people.”

Marshall pulled up to his gated home and parked the car. Y/N got out and followed him to the door. It was a big house. Mansion to explain it. It was nearly nine thousand square feet with primal brick and a long driveway. Several bedrooms and bathrooms and as he opened the door for her, she could not fathom the large foyer with a chandelier and grand staircase.

Marshall toed his shoes off and walked through his residence to his kitchen. Y/N followed and placed her bag on the counter.

“Want a drink?”

“Water is fine.”

He nodded, grabbing a bottle from the fridge and handing it to her. He removed his hood and hat, exposing the blonde buzzcut as he ran a hand through. His house was clean and had a lack of clutter.

“Are you hungry? We could order in.”

“I could eat.”

“What do you feel like? Chinese?”

“Sure.”

Marshall called the Chinese take-out restaurant and placed an order for delivery as Y/N settled on the barstool. She was at Marshall’s. She was in Eminem’s house and it still had not dawned on her that her new friend was, in fact, a megastar.

“You have three daughters?” she asked.

“Yeah, three. Hailie, Alaina and Stevie. Seventeen, nineteen and ten.”

“Babies,” Y/N commented.

“Yeah, but getting so big. Hailie is going to university next year which means she is moving out. It feels like yesterday when she was walking,” he commented as he stood in front of Y/N.

“Yeah, I get that. My brother is five and I just can’t believe he is starting school.”

“Brother?”

“Dad had three other kids with his new wife.”

He nodded. “Can I ask about your family dynamics?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, my mom had me at seventeen and my dad ditched when she decided to keep the baby. He became quite successful as a lawyer and married and had three other kids.”

“My mom had me at seventeen too,” he said.

“Yeah, then you understand how hard it is. I grew up in my grandparent’s house till I was about three and my mom opened her surfing shop. I did not know my dad till I was fifteen when he came back in my life.”

“How old are your siblings?”

“Jax is five, Thomas is three and Liam is eighteen months.”

“Literal babies.”

“Yeah, literal babies. I have only met the younger two a few times but my dad tries his best, but I am the other. The other child. The left out one if that makes sense. His new wife is lovely. She is a nurse. My dad missed out fifteen years and then just came in and was hoping to just have a daughter.”

He nodded. “I get that. My brother is fourteen years younger than me.”

She nodded. “It’s all good. My mom has a lot of anger to him. My dad was twenty-five when I was born. He was not a child or anything. He was finishing law school but still bounced.”

Marshall shrugged. “And your mom?”

“She is great. Just her whole world has been me and when I left, we had a huge fight that she raised me for me to just walk away. However, I could not stay in that small town anymore and I needed opportunities, and I had this option to be better and greater. It was a no-brainer. Her identity is a mother and that is all she thinks she is. She can be Ree and a mother but no she is just a mother in her eyes.”

“She had you so young therefore of course her identity was you.”

“I love my mom, but she calls me every day and if I hide something from her, she finds out somehow. So, she knows my whole life.”

He nodded. “It’s nice that she is involved.”

“Yeah. I can’t complain as I have listened to your songs and I know about the flawless Debbie Mathers-“

He chuckled.

“Yeah, I was very open about my mom, but we do not need to compare moms. There are good parts and bad parts.”

“Absolutely. But enough of the family drama. I am glad you have created a new family for yourself that makes you happier,” she commented.

“One day you will do the same.”

She shook her head. “The chances of me having a baby are very slim.”

“How come?”

Y/N shrugged. “I have endometriosis. So, the chance of me carrying a baby and getting pregnant is very low.”

Marshall felt for her. He really did. The girl in front of him just admitted a secret and something that most women wanted in their life.

“Don’t need to give me that look. I was diagnosed at eighteen, so I have come to terms with it.”

“Well, doesn’t endometriosis still allow you to get pregnant?”

“Yeah, but it’s like a slight chance to be pregnant compared to others.”

“Is it painful?”

“Can be.”

His heart went out to her. He felt for her. However, even if her smile was sad, he wanted to reach out to her and love her. Y/N was something magical and the more he spends time with her, the more he realises he needed her in his life.

“Come here,” he whispered, eloping in a hug as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Y/N smiled lightly as she looked up from sitting on the barstool to his towering stance. Her hand went to his cheek and brushed it.

He looked down at her. Her eyes were so bright with life, he could not help but smile.

“You’re a very pretty girl, Y/N,” he said. She continued to brush his cheek with her hand and as she curled it around his neck, she brought his head down till their lips were barely touching.

“Then kiss me.”

Marshall closed his eyes and brushed his lips with hers. Y/N felt his lips, beautiful and plump as they moved with such devotion. It was slow but needed, feeling and experimenting in his moment. His hand went to her cheek, pulling her up on her feet.

Marshall pushed her against the counter, as their hands began to wonder. Her hands landed on his chest, pressing against it as he held her waist.

They kissed for what felt like forever but were mere moments. It was perfect, in sync and above all, everything they both wanted. Even if they will not admit it.

Marshall pulled away to look down at her smaller frame before shaking his head.

However, Y/N looked at him with utter confusion.

“I did not need that,” he whispered more to himself than to her.

“What?”

“You kissed me.”

“I did,” she said with confidence.

He nodded before licking his lips. Eyes were locked and he found himself leaning down again and pressing his lips to her. Y/N grasped his cheek, pulling him closer to her as their lips fought for dominance. It was hot and heavy as he pushed her into the counter.

“Jump.”

Marshall helped her as her ass hit the counter. Spreading her legs apart, he stood between them, cradling her as their lips fought.

Y/N rolled her head back as his lips began at her jugular and forced their way down her neck.

“Touch me,” she whispered. Marshall complied his hand grasping her breast and rolling it between his palms as his hand held her jaw firm.

Moans escaped from her as his lips pressed harder against hers and eventually, he pulled away. Looking at her…a breathing mess as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands were on his waist as they stared at each other.

Both were silent. No words were to be said as they stared at one another with disbelief.

It was passionate. It was furry. It was fun.

However, she was just a friend.

She was also twenty-one.

“We cannot, Y/N.”

Those words stung. Y/N had never been rejected before. Men usually fall at her feet and normally in her mind, man who was double her age would fall for her easily. A younger thing…bring it on.

She licked her lips, biting them which earned a groan from him.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do this?” she said then did it again with a smirk.

Marshall shook his head, rolling his eyes as he looked at her and then her lips again. “If you do that again, I cannot control what I do next…”

“Then do it,” she whispered as she brought her lips to his ear, whispering those words. “Make me scream.”

He rolled his head back with a frustrated groan.

“You’re trouble,” he said blankly, “and here I thought you wanted friendship.”

“Of course, I want your friendship.”

“But, the way you’re behaving you’re wanting my dick.”

“That is a bonus,” she whispered. “Friends who dick down…that is normal. We are normal.”

“We are not normal. I am forty years old and you’re twenty-one. I am not,” he sighed licking his lips, “I do not want to manipulate you or-“

“I am doing this on my own accord.”

“You’re a flirt.”

“Perhaps, but I have been called much worse.”

Marshall pulled away, finger on her lip as he tilted her head up to look at him. “Y/N it would be wrong.”

“No one would know.”

“We are just friends. This would change everything.”

Dirty talk…everything…gone. Y/N pulled away and brought her hands to her side as she got out of his hold. She rose a brow and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Then don’t sleep with me.”

Marshall sighed at her sudden reaction.

“We just can’t.”

“Then you do not consent, and I have to respect that. Now move,” she stated, pushing him.

“Kiss. Just kiss,” he begged cupping her cheeks. “Just simple kissing.”

Her lips brushed his again and slowly they moved with such need and passion. His hands ran through her hair, releasing it from the bun as he cupped her face and kissed her violently.

Y/N moaned, feeling him bite her bottom lip before exploring her mouth. However, her hand moved from his waist down his thigh to his crotch. She cupped it lightly and gave it a squeeze.

Marshall released a moan however he halted and pulled away.

“Kiss, Y/N. Just kiss.”

Y/N groaned and pushed his chest lightly. “No.”

He walked back slightly before crossing his arms. “No?”

“We are not just going to make out like middle schoolers-“

“I would say the making out is not like middle schoolers-“

“Marshall. Is it not clear to you?…I am aroused! I am aroused by you.”

“I know! I am getting fucking hard just thinking of you-“

“Then do it. Fuck me!” she screamed back throwing her hands up.

“We can’t fuck, Y/N! I can’t-“

“Oh my fucking God,” she mocked. “Oh my fucking God,” she said again. “Its your damn ego. You are forty years old and the idea of screwing someone half your age…you’re embarrassed. Well, Marshall,” she continued to quip and mock, “You’re not the first forty year old I have fucked! Age is just a damn number. I have fucked lots of men over the age of thirty. Age is age!”

He swallowed taking a step back as he shook his head. “I thought you were different.”

“Me? Different from who?”

“The rest. You just want to fuck, don’t you? You just want to get fucking laid! You want to get laid by me…for the story…for the plot! You’re just a fucking whore, aren’t you? There was nothing here. Nothing!” he screamed. “A fucking whore with a fuck ton of issues.”

Y/N pushed against his chest and walked away, grabbing her bag.

“Fuck you, Marshall! Fuck you! You do not know shit about me,” she yelled as she made her way to the door.

“Do not fucking leave, Y/N!” he followed her. “If you leave. We are done.”

Y/N turned around and leaned against the door, her hand behind her holding the doorknob. “Talk to me then, asshole.”

“What do you want from me, Y/N? I am lost,” he pleaded.

Y/N sighed. “You said I have a fuck ton of issues while look in the mirror, Marshall. You have no trust, you have high, guarded walls, you’re reserved, you retreat, you cannot be vulnerable and above all, you purposely hurt others to protect yourself. I wanted a damn friend because I am fucking lonely!” she yelled. “I don’t care of Eminem! I don’t care about D12! I don’t care about the money or the fame! I care about you, Marshall Bruce Mathers,” she yelled before whispering, “You make me feel safe.” His face softened, his lips faded and eyes lightened. “I like sex-“

“You use sex like an addict,” he whispered. “I won’t be the fix.”

She was emotionless, face hardened, voice gone as she stared at him with such wide eyes. Silence broke between them as they stood in front of each other.

“I have known you for less than a month, but you make me intoxicated,” he whispered. “I can’t think right. I can’t walk or talk or think around anything, Y/N. All I think is you. All I am consumed by is you. You are the first thing I think about and the last thing-“

“You don’t know me.”

“Then,” he pleaded, taking a step, “let me get to know you and you can know me too. We are both fucked up and we can be fucked together.”

Silence.

“Stay,” he whispered, “be my friend.”

“I don’t use sex for a fix,” she whispered.

“I see you in me and that is terrifying, Y/N. Since I met you, I saw me in you,” he whispered reaching out to touch her. She dodged lightly but he caught her. His hand cupped her cheek, his other playing with her hair. “I want to love you.”

Never in her life had she heard words like that before. I want to love you…He wanted her. He needed her. He craved her.

“We need boundaries then,” she whispered. “Never kiss me again.”

“You kissed me.”

“Marshall,” she whispered.

“Ok,” he whispered. “No sex.”

She shook her head in acceptance. “No touching-“

“No. I get to touch you. Platonic touching,” he stated with confidence.

“No pleasure.”

“No orgasms.” She gave him a puzzled look. “I can still touch you but not it be sex that can lead to orgasms.”

“Ok.”

“Friends,” he stated with confidence, “merely friends.”

“Let me go, Marshall,” she whispered. He dropped his hands and took a step back.

“Stay tonight…with me…in bed.”

“Rules-“

“I want to wake up next to you.”

Ding dong!

Food. Food was here. There conversation ended abruptly.

He took steps back as she walked away. Marshall opened the door, paid and brought the food in. Settling it on the counter, he dished her a plate. A small gesture but she felt loved. She felt cared for as he handed her a plate.

“Sit,” he cooed. “Couch.”

Y/N walked around the kitchen to the living room and settled in the corner of the couch. She wanted a glass of wine but she knew how Marshall feels about drinking. He had been sober for a few years now, she believed.

However, after this heated argument, this blip of frustration, she needed alcohol to calm her system.

Marshall sat next to her as he turned the television on in front of him. Some football game was on. She ate in silence as he focused on the television. Being Canadian, she did not know which teams were on and instead looked down to her phone where Meira texted her.

9:32 p.m.

From Meira: Tomorrow, The Ivy? 10pm?

A smile came to her lips. She loved The Ivy. The exclusive nightclub for the stars and they were always on the list as Meira shagged the bouncer.

9:34 p.m.

To Meira: Sounds like a plan!

“What are you smiling about?” Marshall asked.

“Meira wants me to go to the club with her tomorrow.”

Marshall nodded, eyes back on the television. “Be safe.”

“Always am.”

9:35 p.m.

From Meira: Where are you? Came by with wine and chips and you aren’t home.

To Meira: With Marshall.

Then she got a series of scandalous emojis.

Y/N placed her phone down and finished her food. Placing her plate down in front of her, she moved to press her head to Marshall’s shoulders. Her side hit his and she cuddled up to him. Marshall’s arm moved to wrap around her, pulling her closer.

And Y/N let her eyes flutter close.

Chapter three is here. Some angst, so loving...hehe.

I also decided out of respect to Stevie to write with their chosen name rather than their dead name.

Let me know your thoughts!

Much love,

Ava <3

#marshall mathers fluff #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers fanfiction #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers angst #marshall mathers series #slim shady #eminem angst #eminem #eminem x reader #eminem fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem series

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psychesalcove · 7 months ago

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„ WHEN YOURE ALL ALONE, ILL REACH FOR YOU (when you're fellin' low, i'll be there too)

↳ COLLEGE AU! JASON GRACE X GN! READER ”

requested: yes, from amandamariee

⚠️: reader is a bit of an overachiever, crying, being overwhelmed bc of school work, shitty ass writing (sorry gang) not proofread AT ALL

in which ; jason comforts reader who is overwhelmed by school work due to finals.

a/n: thank you so much for the request babes!! i hope this lives up to your expectations,, i loveee fluff and comfort fics so so much like it's actually scary 😔 ALSO i made the reader have a history major – just in case anyone was wondering :)

finals season was upon the students of new rome. cafes were filled to the brim with students, workbooks, and the sound of typing on laptops (that were specially made for demigods, of course).

you were one of the studnets who found themselves at the cafe more often than you would like to admit. earlier today you were at a popular cafe downtown with annabeth, but, around two hours into your study session, you wanted a change of scenery.

and that's how you found yourself back at the condo you and jason shared.

ᝰ

your wooden desk that you had gotten at ARC had every surface possible filled with studying items. old assignments, papers your professor handed out, your notes, and every color of highlighter imaginable.

your tea (which jason had made for you) was long forgotten on the edge of the desk, close to tipping over onto the carpeted floor of the bedroom. you had been in the same posion on your chair for about an hour and a half, eyes focused on reading an essay you had wrote a couple months ago.

jason would have already had you take a break by now, but he was downtown. you and jason were supposed to meet with the seven for dinner tonight, but you decided to stay home and study more. jason had insisted on staying with you, but with much persistence on your end, he was out the door and on his way downtown.

and of course, when you're studying for the most important test of this year, your dyslexia decided to act up. you had been stuck on the same sentence for about 5 minutes now. the words kept getting jumbled in your mind, floating from place to place on the page. the monster attacks you could deal with; but not being able to read a simple sentence?

you sighed heavily through your nose, setting down your pen onto the desk. this essay should be easy to read; you were the one who wrote it after all. your eyes shifted from the essay to the rest of your desk. you had no idea how you were going to manage getting all of the information you needed for the test in your head.

you reached for your laptop that was under a folder, because you decided that it might be easier to do work digital instead of on paper. you quickly logged into your laptop, and went to google classroom.

your eyes were drawn to the notification icon, seeing that there was one. you clicked it, mouse hovering over the writing that appeared on the screen: a comment from your professor.

y/n, i've seen you do amazing work in my class this year. what happened with this? i know you have more potential than what you wrote. i'll have to give you a D for this one, but it shouldn't affect your grade to much considering you have an A. it'll bring it down to an A- or a B at the most. i'll hope you gain your skill back in further work.

oh.

you quickly changed the screen onto where your grades were shown. there it was. a B. you knew that it wasn't a bad grade or anything, especially remembering when percy showed his grades to you once, but it still didn't sit right with you.

this was your best class, the one you always understood and got at least an 80 or higher on. you've never gotten a D.

tears quickly filled up your eyes, causing you to bink rapidly in an attempt to keep them at bay. you looked at the desk, in hopes of feeling better by now staring at the large B on your screen, but it only made it worse. all the papers and assignments quickly overwhelmed you, seeing how much you still had to do.

how will you even pass this test if you can't write a simple article about an artifact?

with that thought in your head, tears quickly started dripping down your face. a rational part of you told you that a small assignment like that didn't show your worth of the class, but the emotional part of you quickly overtook that thought.

as you sat there, posture rigid and tears freely falling down your face, you were to focused on your own being to register the sound of a door opening and footsteps going down the hall twords the bedroom you were in. you only got out of your head when you felt cold hands rubbing up and down your upper back.

"hey, love, what's wrong?" a voice, that you quickly recognized as jason's, said. you didn't know how to verbally respond, so you coughed hard and brought a hand up to your face to try to remove the tear stains from your face.

jasons hands moved from your back to go over your shoulders, hugging you from behind. "how about we get you into a bed first, hm?" he questioned gently, leaning awkwardly so his face was closer to your ear. after registering what he said, you nodded slightly as you made a move to stand up.

jason aided in getting you up, and then put a hand over your shoulder when the two of you started the short walk to the bed. he let you sit first, and then quickly followed in suit. he sat in front of you, letting you get a clear image of his blonde hair and concerned face.

he grabbed your hands and held onto them lightly, giving you the option to leave his grasp at any point. "love, try to copy my breathing, okay?" he instructed, making eye contact with you. he slowly took a deep breath in through his mouth, waiting for you to follow. once he saw the movement , he slowly exhaled through his nose, again, waiting for to follow his breathing pattern.

this continued until jason deemed you collected enough to talk about whatever made you upset. "want to tell me what got you so worked up, my love?" he asked again, softly smiling at you when you two made eye contact.

you quickly explained your situation in a shaken voice, still getting own crying. his eyebrows knitted in concern as he listen to you, and his thumb started slowly rubbing circles on your knuckles when he noticed your teary eyes.

once you finished speaking, he took you into his arms and held you gently. "how about you take a break. i'll make you tea, and you can eat if you want. then, we'll come back, and i'll help you with whatever you need help with. sound good?" he explained, already making a move to stand up with you.

ᝰ

the two of you quickly found yourself in the kitchen. jason had dimed the lights to emit a soft orange glow from above, and turned on the stove light as he filled the kettle up with water.

"you know, you're amazing at what you do, love." jason said, turning to you as he turned off the sink water after the kettle was filled up. "and, i know that you also know that, somewhere in there," he continued, brining up a finger and pointing at his head. you chucked softly, making jason get a small grin on his face from making you laugh, even if it was only little.

he walked over to the stove and placed the kettle on the stove, turning on the stove top, then moving over to where you sat on the counter. he gently wrapped his arms around your waist bringing you into a gentle embrace. "yknow you could have asked for my help earlier, i would have stayed with you, my love." he said as he rested his head on your shoulder.

"i know, but i wanted you to go out. i didn't want to keep up cooped up in here with me just because i didn't want to have dinner with them." you said as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, bringing you closer to him.

"i never feel 'cooped up' with you, love. and i wouldn't have minded not going, although leo and piper seemd very pressed about you not being there tonight. said they wanted to meet up with you tomorrow to 'add to their gossip'." he said, chuckling lightly at the thought of leo and piper.

you smiled softly as you thought about your friends, knowing how much they meant to you. just then, your stomach growled, notifying both you and jason that you were starving.

"how about we make you some toast? then we can go back and start on some flashcards for you, sound good?" jason asked, pulling away from the embrace and walking over to the pantry, signaling with his hands for you to follow.

#psychesalcove writes ༉‧₊˚.#percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy pjo #percy jackson x you #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #hoo x you #pjo x you #jason grace x reader #jason grace x reader fluff #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

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Old Habits Die Hard Part 5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Your embarrassment lingers, while Bradley's past finds a new way to interrupt his pursuit of you.

Warnings: Angst, swears, maybe some fluff

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

Bradley barely made it back to the house and into his bedroom before he was jerking off. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he groaned, reaching for some tissues just in time. You were too much. It was unbelievable. He had never had to work this hard for a girl before. He had never had to get himself off this many times before sealing the deal before. He was either losing his touch, or you were different.

But as he went to flush the tissues down the toilet and saw his bedroom door on the way, he knew it was the latter. And by this point, Jeff must know you were Bradley's Sugar and that he wasn't going to give you up without a fight.

He collapsed back onto his bed and couldn't stop thinking about you. He had walked you to your final class with a semi that was definitely evident to you. It didn't matter though; you had been embarrassed by what happened in the study room, even though it was actually unbelievably sexy. Bradley had seen a lot, but no girl had ever reacted to him quite like that before. Now he was thinking about wedging that door closed next week and fucking you right on the study table.

Jeff had been right, you were a nice girl. But now Bradley knew you could also get a little dirty. This was a combination he had never had before. His cock jumped again in anticipation.

------------------------------------

You were so embarrassed, you wanted to die. You had orgasmed from rubbing yourself against Bradley in the study room, and then you had to go to class. It was bad enough that he walked you there when all you wanted to do was jump him in the middle of the sidewalk, but then you couldn't stop thinking about him while your professor lectured.

It was a combination of everything with him. He had the prettiest brown eyes and soft, wavy hair. His voice made you wet, and he smelled so good you wanted to rub yourself against him all the time. And you got carried away. You bet Phoebe never did anything so needy before.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, you were still too embarrassed to even fathom going to the party. If Janessa was ever home instead of being glued to Tyson's mouth, you might have asked her for some advice.

But you had to go. You had already promised Bradley you would be there, and he'd probably just come find you if you didn't show. He had also been texting you nonstop. So you changed into your tightest jeans and your lowest cut shirt and pulled your hair back.

"Oh my God!" you gasped when you looked in the mirror to touch up your makeup. The hickey Bradley left on your neck was darker today, and it was so noticeable, you sighed in relief that you had worn your hair down to class earlier.

You snapped a quick selfie of your neck with your head posed in an appealing way and sent it to him with the caption Do you think anyone noticed this today?

He wrote back almost immediately while you were fixing your mascara.

I hope so, Sugar. When you come hang out with me tonight, everyone is gonna know who gave you that mark. And don't you dare cover it up.

You whimpered just reading the text. Knowing you, you'd probably embarrass yourself again tonight by rubbing yourself on him in front of his fraternity brothers or something. You couldn't believe he was even still texting you. But you really did want to go to the party, because you wanted to see him, and you were curious about the state of his bedroom door.

He had told you he painted his door just for you, but were there some other names up there now as well? Were more girls trying to get his attention? You'd be tempted to scribble them out if there were.

You strolled to the Beta house, almost reaching the front porch by the time you realized you were going to have to deal with Jeff at some point.

"Shit," you muttered to yourself. You were glancing around, hoping to see Janessa, but you had no luck. You were about to text Bradley and ask where he was, but you smiled and took off in the direction of the kitchen.

When you looked inside, he was there, sitting on the counter and smiling at you in his backwards cap.

"Were you looking for me?" he asked softly as you made your way toward him.

You could feel a warmth heating your cheeks. "That depends. Were you waiting here for me?"

"Of course I was, Sugar. Missed you," he said, jumping down as you approached him.

Cautiously, you eased your hands up his chest and around his neck. You watched his unguarded eyes as a genuine smile touched his lips.

"You really missed me?" you asked, running your fingers along his neck.

He responded by grabbing your hips and kissing you. You moaned as he turned you so your backside was against the kitchen counter. He had you gently pinned there, but his kisses were unhurried and lingering, every little nip and nibble going right to your core.

His fingers felt strong through the denim fabric as he held you in place. And when you reached your fingers up into his hair and knocked his hat on the floor, he didn't stop kissing you until you gasped.

"I don't know, Sugar. You tell me," he whispered, running the tip of his nose along your hickey and making you giggle. "Does it seem like I missed you?"

You smiled as he gently kissed along the mark he'd made on your neck the previous day. "Yeah, it seems that way, Beer Boy. Shocking, considering I embarrassed myself like that yesterday," you whispered.

Bradley examined your face with a smirk. "That poor kid. He's probably still thinking about your legs and your soft moans. His dick's probably been hard since he interrupted us. Never gonna feel satisfied again."

"Bradley!" you whined, burying your face against his chest. "Stop, I'm still mortified!"

He chuckled deep in his chest, and it was such a pleasant sound, you burrowed in deeper. "Sugar, that was so hot yesterday, I'm considering begging you to do it again. I already couldn't stop thinking about you, and that just made it a hundred times worse."

You bit your lip and looked up at him, and you just knew your cheeks must have been bright pink. "I can't stop thinking about you either," you told him.

He nodded his head before kissing you once more and then he picked up his hat.

"That's just the way I like it," he told you, putting his hat on your head and leading you out into the party.

------------------------------

Bradley received a few curious looks as he led you through the house, holding your hand in his. People were used to seeing him with Phoebe or other girls wearing barely any clothing. They were not in fact used to seeing him with someone like you, and the fact that he'd put his hat on your head felt a little like he was claiming you in a way that was unlike him.

But every time you looked at him, he thought maybe he liked being this way. He liked working for and earning your attention. He liked you. He liked that you had your hair pulled up and everyone could see your hickey.

When he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your cheek, about to suggest he take you upstairs, he ran into Tyson. He watched Janessa's eyes go wide as she immediately pulled you away from Bradley and started whispering to you.

You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled, and Bradley considered dragging you upstairs like a caveman.

"I'll grab us some drinks," he told you, and with a sigh, he doubled back to the kitchen with Tyson.

"Wow, dude. Does Jeff know about this?" Tyson asked him as he rooted around in the refrigerator.

Bradley snorted. "I'm not exactly trying to hide anything."

"No. You definitely aren't." Tyson opened a can of beer while Bradley grabbed two bottles of the kind he knew you liked. He knew better than to start drinking anything stronger. "You and Phoebe off again?"

Even just the mention of her name irritated Bradley. "Yeah. For good."

Tyson just nodded his head. "That's cool. Phoebe's mean." Bradley laughed a little bit as Tyson asked, "You know Jeff is going to freak out, right?"

Bradley distracted himself by grabbing the bottle opener from the drawer and putting it in his pocket. "Jeff has been fucking freaking out since July, when I got his best friend kicked out of Beta. So why should this be any different?"

"Hey, I'm on your side man. Chase was a dick, and he had it coming. But Jeff is used to being the top dog around here. Best grades, Dean's list and all that shit."

That was the thing about Jeff; Bradley made Dean's list too, but he never made a big deal out of it. He never talked about his scholarships, or how scared he had been that he'd get kicked out of school before his senior year for fighting. If he didn't graduate from UVA on time and without debt, he was absolutely fucked.

But Bradley honestly didn't care what anyone else thought about you and him. He was certain he'd be better for you than Jeff. "Then I guess this will take some getting used to for him." He turned and left the kitchen before Tyson could say anything else.

As Bradley approached you from behind, he saw the mark on your neck again. Gorgeous. He automatically kissed you there, startling you and making you giggle.

"Beer Boy! You scared me," you told him over the music. Janessa was looking between the two of you, openly curious as he kissed your neck. Bradley wondered what you had told your roommate. Just looking at Janessa, he was almost surprised he had ever been interested in her. Thankfully she was completely distracted by Tyson now, because Bradley didn't want any loose ends.

He kissed his way up to your ear and whispered, "Wanna go upstairs?"

You turned to look at him, and the subtle nod and trusting look you gave him had his heart rate speeding up. "Let's go," you told him, heading for the stairs with Bradley at your heels.

"Enjoy his big dick," Janessa whispered to you, but Bradley heard it so clearly, he had no doubt you did too. You froze in place and shot a confused look at Janessa before looking back at him.

Bradley let his head tip back as he stared at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "Thanks a lot, Janessa," he muttered, terrified to look at your face again.

"What? It was just a blowjob. Chill out," Janessa said, but she was already on her way over to where Tyson was playing flip cup.

Bradley exhaled deeply and chanced a look at your face. Now you looked a little bit concerned, and he wished he had no knowledge of Janessa's godawful oral sex capabilities.

"When did that happen?" you asked softly. Oh fuck, you looked like you might cry. "This week?"

"Fuck. No. Not this week, Sugar. That was before I met you. And it was just one time. And nothing more."

You nodded your head, pouting at him. "Oh. I just didn't know that Janessa was on your roster."

Bradley shifted the beer bottles to his left hand and reached for you with his right. "I don't have a roster anymore," he said, his voice rough to his own ears.

You examined his face. He could just tell he was going to blow it with you. No way you'd want to be embarrassed by him. Re-painting his door was one thing, but actually being good enough was another thing entirely. And now he knew he had no chance with you tonight.

"You wanna go hang out in the living room?" he asked. "Or I can walk you home, make sure you get there safely."

Your brow scrunched up. "I thought we were going upstairs."

"Yeah, okay. We can still go upstairs. We can... drink these beers and talk."

"Sounds good," you said, taking his hand again and heading to his room.

--------------------------

You were in way over your head now. This was bad. Bradley was bad for you, and you still wanted him. You were still going to his bedroom, and seemingly nothing was going to stop you from doing whatever he wanted.

You had been wondering where Jeff was, feeling a little apprehensive about him seeing you with Bradley. Everything felt like red flag after red flag cropping up in your path, but as soon as you saw that Bradley's door was just as you had left it, you felt more at ease.

Bradley watched you skirt around the edge of his room and flip through his English 400 composition notebook. "Is one of those for me?" you finally asked him, nodding toward the beers he was still holding.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, retrieving a bottle opener from his pocket. "Learned the hard way that you shouldn't open beers for girls if they don't see you doing it. I opened six beers last year and then I had to drink them all."

You laughed and he looked up to meet your eyes. "Yeah, some guys are creepy. Don't ever give girls open drinks."

"Never again. And those weren't the good beers either, they were shit ones that I had to force down."

"That would have been fun to watch," you said as you took a sip. "So why do you let me drink the good beers?"

Bradley smiled at you. "Because you're cute. And at first it was kind of fun to irritate Jeff. But now it's because you can have anything you want, Sugar."

You rolled your eyes and tried not to grin. "Is it okay if I sit on your bed?" you asked, swallowing against the nervous feeling creeping up inside you.

"Of course," he whispered. "Anything you want."

"You can sit too, Beer Boy."

And so he did. Right next to you, so your thigh was touching his. You sipped your beer silently, unsure about how to proceed with him. Bradley had gotten you so fucking horny yesterday, you came in his lap while you were both fully clothed. When you showed up to the party tonight, he had kissed you right away. He had kissed you in front of his friends. But now you felt apprehensive, and it was hard to pinpoint what would make things better.

Just as you were about to ask him to walk you home, he said, "The thing about you is... you're different. And I'm not sure what to do."

You turned to look at him as he peeled the label off of his beer. "I'm different?"

Bradley stayed focused on peeling as he said, "No.... you're not different. Better, maybe? I'm not sure. I think... maybe I'm different now. Like, I have been for months. And I've been trying to force myself to be the same, because it seems easier. I guess. That probably doesn't make any sense." He downed the rest of his beer in one go and set the empty on his bookshelf before he looked at you.

"It kind of makes sense," you told him as you set your bottle down as well. "I tried to force myself to keep liking Jeff even though I knew I liked you better as soon as I met you," you told him with a soft laugh.

He smiled sadly at you. "Look, Sugar, I can't change what happened with Janessa, even though I wish I could. I didn't even know you were her roommate then. And... I mean, I know it's obvious how girls see me now. And I know it's not always flattering. I'm... an easy option."

You were nowhere near as experienced as he was, but you didn't see him in an unflattering way. Bradley did everything better than Jeff did. He was funnier, sweeter, more honest, he kissed you better, he only touched you when you welcomed it. You ran your hand up his thigh, and you heard his breath catch. "I can only think of flattering things, Beer Boy."

"Sugar," he whispered, pleading with you in some way.

"Did you paint your door just for me?" you asked, turning to face him.

He shook his head and licked his lips. "No. I painted it for myself, too."

You leaned in and kissed him, accidentally knocking his hat off of your own head this time. You caught him off guard, and it took a few seconds for him to return your affection, but when he did, he took your breath away.

"Sugar," he whispered against your lips, his mouth soft yet firm against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. It was like the study room, but also completely different. This time you were really alone, and could have done anything you wanted with him, but his lips were more indulgent this time. He was working you up in a different way.

He rubbed his parted lips along your neck, stroking your collarbone with his tongue. You rocked your hips against him once, and immediately you were on your back with him on top of you. A startled laugh escaped your lips as Bradley sat up and tossed your shoes across the room followed by his, and then he was on top of you again.

"Just to be clear, I don't think we should sleep together tonight," he told you softly before stroking up your sides with his thumbs and kissing your cleavage.

Your broken moan was so loud, you watched a satisfied grin spread across his face. "So you're just going to tease me then?" you asked, your voice already sounding ragged. "Tease me and send me home?"

"No." Bradley kissed the tops of your breasts, and his flushed cheeks had you squirming underneath him. "I'm going to show you how sweet you are, and then I'm going to walk you home."

"Fuck," you whined as he worked his lips and tongue against all of your exposed skin. Everything he did felt good, and you were so wet and ready for more. But he never put his hands under your clothing and never said anything more than Sugar.

You were limp and needy and barely able to reciprocate when his lips returned to yours. You could feel that he was hard where his erection pressed against your thigh. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him to your core, rubbing yourself against him there.

"Bradley," you whined, knowing you didn't want a repeat of the library scenario, but you couldn't help yourself.

"You're not making my plans easy for me," he ground out. "So fucking hot."

He placed three firm kisses along your jaw and then wrenched himself out of your grasp. You could see how long and hard he was through his pants, and he adjusted himself as he sat up between your thighs. He just stared at you where you were propped up on your elbows, his eyes subtly moving along your face and your body.

When your breathing started to even out, you smiled at him and sat up. He collected you in his arms and held you for a while, letting you kiss and touch his scars.

He finally asked, "Will you let me walk you home?"

"Yes."

Bradley helped you put your shoes on and he gave you one of his sweatshirts to wear. It was huge on you, and you melted a tiny bit as he cuffed the sleeves for you. Then he kissed you against the wall in the hallway for so long, you thought maybe he was going to change his mind and let you take him back to his bed.

"It's so late, Sugar," he told you, taking your hand and walking down the stairs. The blaring music assaulted your senses once more as you both wove your way through the bodies and spilled drinks.

You'd been wondering where Jeff was earlier, and when you saw him making out with a girl from your biology lab, you felt nothing. Bradley glanced back at you, gauging your reaction, but you just smiled at him.

"Let's go," he told you, and soon you were out in the cool, night air with his arm wrapped around you and his gorgeous voice in your ears.

-------------------------

Thanks for loving this FratBaby! Thanks @mak-32 for everything with this fic! This one's for you, Mak!

PART 6

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw x female reader

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artwins · 7 months ago

Note

I have a twin and I'm jealous of you guys drawing together, it's so cool! Unfortunately we were compared a lot during our childhood and made to compete with each other instead of working together, so ended up choosing different paths so we could have "our own thing" and not be compared so much. It makes me especially sad that my twin is very insecure about that, and will say things like "I don't want to learn to draw, you're already so much better than me", like it's still a competition. Anyway sorry for rambling but I was curious, do you guys ever compare your art, or get insecure / competitive, thinking that one is better than the other?

An important issue for us, and we have a lot to say about it, so this will be a long one.

Yes, we were compared a lot. In everything, starting with who started talking first, who runs faster, who has better grades, etc., etc. For some reason, people see two identical people and think that it'll be so fun to play the game "spot the difference" with them. Obviously it feels like crap, to say the least. In general, being compared to someone sucks, but being compared to your actual real life clone who is essentially on the same level/has the same experience as yourself sucks 100 times worse.

Our art journey was difficult from the very beginning because one of us was a little slower at learning and his art style developed slower in general. But we both love drawing so much that we just couldn't give it up, so we worked at it and worked at it until we were both equally good at it. It was funny to see our college professors finally shut up about which of the two of us was better because they realized we had destroyed the difference.

To answer the last part of your question: yes, we have moments of envy/insecurity about our art because we can't simply stop comparing. But we learn to work through it by reminding ourselves that we shouldn't compete with each other, because (our personal opinion) it is better not to fight among ourselves, but to combine our forces against someone else lol

To you and your twin - we're sorry they feel insecure about that, but we hope you're both happy with paths you've both chosen. And thanks for reaching out, it's cool to ramble about twins stuff for a change and to see some other twins out there!

#ask #text post #worst life advices from artwins 2024

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tsuutarr · 7 months ago

Note

Could you please do a mini fic of the Alolan class with a reader who got her period in the middle of class? Like full on clutching her stomach and sobbing. Maybe a fire type (cough cough litten) decided that they'll allow themselves to be used as a heating pad. (I have heavy flow so I'm kinda projecting here lol) also I almost forgot to mention but reader is from galar and they have a quaxley and ponyta! :D

(My first request!! I was very excited to get this, thank you sm for sending it <3 In terms of the Pokémon anime, I've only watched until Sinnoh, but I hope I got the Alolan characters right! I focused more on their game characterizations, though, I think... Also, the requester requested a Sobble instead of a Quaxly in a separate ask, so that's what you'll see. Anyway, sorry for the rambling!! Here's the fic!)

Word count: 1516

Contents: periods, female reader, everyone is just very sweet about it!

The day had started like any ordinary day – Professor Kukui standing in front of the class, talking about how to use moves the most effectively. What wasn’t normal, however, was the sudden, sharp pain that cramped your abdomen. You winced a little at the pulsing pain, but thought nothing bad of it, preferring to pay attention to class. You’d just transferred to the Pokémon School in Alola from Galar about a week ago, so seeing a Litten, Rowlett, and Popplio was a new experience. Not wanting to miss looking at the new Pokémon, you decided to ignore your discomfort.

However, you soon come to regret that decision as another, much sharper, pain shoots through your abdomen and doesn’t leave, instead deciding to settle itself and linger. You clutch your stomach as you lean over your desk. Not wanting to embarrass or bother your new classmates, you try to keep your breathing easy and hold back any cries of pain.

Despite your best efforts, Kiawe, your seatmate, notices, reaching over a warm hand and placing it on your shoulder. He quietly calls your name, drawing your attention to him. “Are you okay?”

“’m fine,” you mumble, quietly, trying to steady your breathing. The pain doesn’t let up, however, causing a sob to leave your mouth.

Lana, your other seatmate, leans over, whispering, “Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

You can’t respond because you’re in pain, trying to stifle your cries as much as possible. It’s hard, though, causing tears and sobs to escape you.

“Professor Kukui!” Mallow, from behind you, calls. “I think the transfer student’s feeling ill! Can we take her to the infirmary?”

Professor Kukui pauses the lesson immediately at that, opting instead to walk over to you, concern etched onto his face. “Hey, cousin, you feeling okay?”

You weakly shake your head, not trusting your voice to come out the way you want it to.

With a purse on his lips, Professor Kukui turns to Kiawe, “Kiawe, can you help her get to the infirmary– whoa, hey, Litten!”

Litten had followed Professor Kukui, deciding to settle itself on your stomach. The small kitten purrs as its warmth begins to soothe you like a heating pad.

“Sorry about that, cousin.” Sheepishly, Professor Kukui rubs the nape of his neck, unsure of how to extract Litten from you.

“It’s all right,” you respond finally, shaky hands cradling Litten closer. “It’s helping.”

Professor Kukui’s eyes soften at that. “Do you want to stay in class or would you like to rest a bit in the infirmary? I can call your guardian to come pick you up.”

You nod your head, trying to steady your breath and focus on Litten’s warmth.

At your agreement, Professor Kukui and Kiawe help you to your feet. Kiawe lets you lean on him as he helps you to the infirmary, Litten still cradled in your arms. Funnily enough, Kiawe was warm enough to rival a fire Pokémon himself.

After you arrive at the infirmary, the school nurse gives you some medication, a period pad, and allows you to occupy one of the empty beds. Using her Munna, she uses hypnosis on you to pull you into a nice, sweet rest, Litten still curled on your abdomen. Kiawe lingers for a bit, worried, but is soon shooed out by the nurse.

When you open your eyes, everything is blurry and bleary, but you’re feeling a bit better. The throbbing pain is still there, but the dozing Litten helps. You yelp a little when you feel something nuzzle your cheek – your Galarian Ponyta has somehow been released. Your Sobble, too, is besides you, crying its eyes out like you don’t experience these bad pains every month. You laugh lightly as both your Pokémon worry over you.

“Oh, are you awake?”

You blink, finally taking in the other figures in the room.

“We were all super worried!” Mallow says, looking relieved. “Man, and I thought my period was bad!”

“Are you feeling any better?” Lillie inquires. She was sitting next to you, her Alolan Vulpix on her lap as she read a book.

“I am,” you say, feeling a little sheepish. “Uh… What time is it?”

“It’s after school hours,” Lana supplements. “But we all wanted to check up on you before we went home… Especially since there’s actually a rumor about this infirmary about a ghost…”

“Give the poor girl a break!” with a laugh, Mallow nudges Lana. “Lana’s joking, there’s no infirmary ghost.”

Litten purrs from its spot on your abdomen, making you smile. “Even if there was, I’m sure my Pokémon and I can take them!”

“I wish we could battle,” Sophocles says, eying your Galarian Pokémon. Kiawe nods in agreement. “But I suppose you’re in no condition to fight.” Carefully, Sophocles approaches you, something in his hands. You peer at it curiously, not recognizing what it is. “Uhm… I heard chocolate helps when you’re having a period so… it’s from my personal stash.”

Your heart warms at your new classmates’ attentiveness to your pain, as well as how open they are about talking about periods. You’ve met plenty of people that were grossed out by the mere mention of periods that you hadn’t been too comfortable asking for help.

“If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Lillie pipes up with a smile from beside you. “I know how nerve-wracking it can be to meet new people in a new environment, but we want to help you if we can.”

“Wow…” You can feel another burst of tears coming, but not from the pain. “Thanks, really. I appreciate it.”

Your new classmates all smile kindly at you as Professor Kukui barrels into the room with Professor Burnet in tow behind him.

“Ah, cousin! You’re awake! We were all worried about you,” he says, his previous worry gone from his face. “And look at that, Litten seems to have warmed up to you!”

“Aw, is this your new student? She’s a cutie!”

You smile bashfully at her. “Hello.”

“Hey there! I’m Professor Burnet, this handsome guy’s wife,” she laughs, pointing to Professor Kukui. It’s the first time you’re seeing Professor Kukui look so bashful, but you think it’s cute. “Anyway, we came to take you back home. Your guardian was a little preoccupied, but we wanted to make sure you got back safe.”

“Thank you,” you reply, hands gently petting Litten.

From the corner of your eye, you see Professor Burnet nudge Kukui, who clears his throat. “Well… That Litten seems to like you quite a bit. Why don’t you keep it?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly–”

Litten, at this very moment, decides to open its amber eyes, staring deep into your soul. It stands up from your abdomen, walking across your chest to headbutt your chin softly. Everyone in the room laughs at Litten’s affections as you blink in confusion.

“I think Litten chose you, cousin,” Kukui grins. “Why not let it be your first Alolan Pokémon? Think of it as a welcome gift!”

“I…” you murmur, staring at Litten as it stares back at you. The Litten places a paw on your nose, eyes narrowing. “...Okay,” you agree, finally, making the Litten nod in satisfaction before walking back to curl up on your stomach. You blink, “Am I going to be stuck in the infirmary until Litten decides it no longer wants to keep me hostage?”

Kukui laughs, walking over to hand you Litten’s Poké Ball. “Don’t worry about that. Litten, be a pal and go back to the Poké Ball?”

Litten huffs, but obeys as you recall it.

“Now, let’s get you home.” Professor Kukui places a hand on your shoulder. “Ready to go?”

“We’ll go with you!” Mallow says brightly, making Kiawe nod.

“We’d hate it if you got accosted by some hoodlums,” Lana chimes in.

“Lana, stop joking– okay, this one is less of a joke,” Mallow murmurs as Lillie picks up your bag, which had been beside her chair.

“Shall we go?” she says, standing up with your bag in her hand.

“I can carry my bag–” you go to say, but everyone very strongly refuses.

You didn’t expect your period to get your ragtag group of classmates to walk you home, but you can hardly complain with how warm and kind they all are. Sobble remains stuck on your shoulder as your Ponyta remains by your side, helping support you alongside Kiawe, who is designated your bag carrier. Your new Litten is curled up in your arms, peacefully dozing.

Your classmates and professors chatter and joke as they walk you home. There’s an existing bond there that might’ve made a regular person feel excluded, but somehow, everyone is so good at including you and making you feel welcome. You’re still in pain (thankfully, you got some more medicine before heading home), but your heart feels warm enough that you almost don’t mind it. Almost. Regardless, you’re excited for your future in Alola alongside these amazingly kind, welcoming people and your cute new Litten.

#pokemon x reader #reader insert #x reader #trial captain kiawe #trial captain lana #trial captain mallow #pokemon lillie #trial captain sophocles #professor kukui #professor burnet #period fic #honestly the alolan gang are so sweet ;; idk i've always liked the squad!!! i def wanna write more alola <3 #im nervous bc this is my first request but i hope you like it!! thank you again for the request <3

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celabi · 2 years ago

Note

I’m super glad you’re back! :D

I’ve got a ton of little prompt ideas floating around in my head for scummy scara but I don’t want to dump them all out at once so I’ll just bring one for now:

what if reader asked scara out on a date?

bonus points if reader shy and stuttering because yes

here’s a gold star for your awesome writing ⭐️

Hello!! I’m semi-returned to writing!! I’m still in the hospital but I feel better then I did before so I’ll be trying to clear out some of my drafts !! 🫶 sorry, this is really short, I didn’t know how to write it 😭😭

Asking Scummy Scaramouche out on a date! ☆彡

The lesson had just wrapped up for the day when Scaramouche feels a light tap on his bicep. It’s you, when he turns his head to the side— and with a cute little smile plastered on your glossy lips no less. He blinks slowly, and momentarily halts his actions of packing away his stationary so he can provide you his full attention— even going as far to prop up his elbow, leaning his red tinted cheek on his palm and returning your grin. “Yes, [name]? Would you like me to walk you home today? I truly mean it when I say that my time for you is unlimited.” ‘Please say yes, please say yes, please sa—’ his eyes slightly crease and shoulders visibly drop in disappointment when a head shake is what he receives in return, but he still nods back to you in understanding. “Oh, okay… no worries.”

He watches in curiosity as you turn your gaze and look anywhere but towards his dazed stare— awkwardly coughing into one of your fists and softly tapping your fingernail on the surface of the desk. “Ahem… it’s actually because I was wondering if you… uh, wanted to like, you know, hang out t-together, instead.” The first thing he takes notice of is the way your voice is in a much lighter tone then normal, which he mentally coos at. ‘She’s acting shy now… did I do that to her? Does— does she love me too?’ Giddy, that’s what he found himself feeling— and even though he knows he shouldn’t get so far into his deluded fantasies, he can’t help but to imagine you getting all flustered over him. Him. “We could go to the… movies? That’s always fun. Or maybe we could go to the park, i-if you’d prefer to talk, or something…”

“Like a— a date? You and me? Us? T-together?” Scaramouche has to make sure that he’s not misunderstanding your intentions and jumping to conclusions, because god he would be so upset if he accidentally managed to embarrassed himself in front of you if he happened to be wrong. He gulps down the lump in his throat, and reached up the tug at the collar to his shirt as he had started to feel slightly light headed from this whole ordeal. It can’t just be a regular study session, could it? The term was almost over, and he can’t rack his brain and recall if the professor had assigned any new assignments as of late. (Either there really was no new work to be completed— or he was just too busy staring at you every period and couldn’t bother to listen to the teachers words.)

The thought out you just asking him to hang out like friends would, enters his head— but he’s too delusional to care about that. And you’re so nice that he wouldn’t even think you’re trying to mess with him, there’s no way. Still, you both hang out all the time and you aren’t usually so fidgety and bashful around him, so this… this just has to be you asking him out romantically, right? He hopes so, he hopes so bad that his fantasies are coming to life and he can finally have you all to himself. Hell, he’s shifting around in his seat excitedly just thinking about it.

When you nod shyly in response to his clarification, Scaramouche is one hundred percent sure he would just Aww at just how adorable you look right now— if it weren’t for his heart almost bursting from his chest. This isn’t a dream, it’s real— he‘s sure it is from how much he’s sweating. You like him back, and though it’s a stretch, he thinks there’s a chance that maybe you love him too. You want to date him, to hug him, to kiss him, like he does you? Of course you do, why else would you ask him out. Duh.

He lets out a breath, and you take notice of how shaky it sounds, and how he looks like passing out. “Uh… if you’re sick, we can reschedule, o-or just not go at all if that’s what you pr—” you don’t even get to finish your sentence before he’s straightening up in his chair and whipping his head into your direction, a panic look overtakes his previously dreamy one.

“No, no! I’ll go, I want to!” He interrupts, and waves his arms around in embarrassment, before looking down into his lap shamefully from his sudden outburst. “I mean… I would like that… if you took me out on a d-date. Please.”

“Pftt… okay, Kuni, follow me then.”

He only nods, a love sick smile on his lips as he stands up and trails behind you, reaching for your hand and even forgetting to grab his bag on the way out because of his excitement. Loser 😔

#genshin impact x reader #x reader #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scummy? scara :(#🍃ー celabi ☆彡 #wanderer x reader #yandere wanderer x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact

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runic-dreamer · 12 days ago

Text

The Challenge (Epic the Musical) Animatic

I finished it!! I actually got it done!

And even fully in colour!

youtube

Hope everyone who stumbles across it, enjoys it.

Also yes the design for Penelopes guards is based on Mortius and Casper Fox, through whom I discovered Epic in the first place. (I did not draw them with glasses, because, even though I wear glasses myself, I do not understand how to draw them in a way that looks decent)

I know that per Epic lore, it seems that the only loyal people in the palace were Penelope and Telemachus, but they would have had guards. So I gave Penelope some guards. Especially needed when the Prince is not around.

Also I gave Penelope a knife. It is only small, but she was raised a Spartan Princess, she knows how to use it.

Othe design-y things:

the crown: I based it on the idea of a diadem (actually used in ancient times), which was usually dyed purple (I think I learned sth about the specif colours last semester in my Ancient Greek class at university). But I added olive leaves, to the headband, to symbolize that Ody was/is a chosen of Athena. After all in ancient greece, basically any hedgemon ever associated himself either with a god or a demigod of sort (just ask any numismatist, those coins will tell you everything about a king).

The veil - I guess. I did not want to draw more hands than I needed to, so pulling focus to her wedding band would be out of the question. So I gave her a veil instead. I want to say that it is "historically accurate", but I only vaguely remember that my professor at uni said sth about veils. The main idea was that Penelope had a knife hidden under it the whole time. So when she goes to present the challenge, she is also getting ready.

Why Penelopes dress is purple? Cause that is an expensive colour to make, so royalty status. Also to make her distinct from the backgrounds, and because in the canon animatics she wore purple if I remember correctly.

Lastly, I leave it up to interpretation if you want to imagine Ody already in the hall, or just as a figment of her mind.

I like both takes, though I love the moment in the og story of them basically plotting the "house cleaning" together. Being cunning together, they simply are so cute and made for each other!

Now enough yapping. If you reached this, thanks for reading my rambling, have fun watching the animatic.

#epic the musical #the challenge #epic the ithaca saga #penelope of ithaca #epic animatic #my animatic #odysseus #ithaca saga #Youtube

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alonetimelover · 1 year ago

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Hi, can I request Heavy Angst that ends in Fluff with 5 word prompt 22 please

"Find someone else to annoy."

pairing: Harry Styles x physicist!reader

summary: Writing a work that would grand you the professor title was harder than YN anticipated. Just like the affect that her antics had on people that she loved, especially Harry. And when the enough was enough some words weren't supposed to be said.

word count: ~1,7k

warnings: angst ending with fluff, workaholism, swearing

a/n: First blurb of the 'blurb weekend'! I am so excited for you to read it and I hope you'll enjoy it. Thank you so so much for requesting!

masterlist taglist blurb weekend prompts

Becoming a professor was harder than one would think. YN laughed at her younger self for believing all the lies that University fed her. Research, nights without a minute of sleep, books whose pages were in four digit numbers and stress. Stress that didn’t only affect her but Harry as well.

He was on a break. The tour ended, vacation in Italy was almost forgotten and the cosiness and warmness of his home was what he needed. It was the thing that he had most longed for during weeks abroad. But the tension inside the house was thick. And Harry hated it. He was used to YN diving into her studies and not coming downstairs for dinner. He was used to reminding her to take her vitamins, bring her glasses of water or a hot cup of tea. He was used to rather more silent days in the house whenever she was writing a paper, an article. He understood it and was as helpful as he thought he could be. Having in mind all those things, Harry was helpless when YN locked herself in her studies for hours, refusing to open the door or even acknowledge his presence.

When Harry heard the opening of the doors from downstairs, he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He reached for the remote to take the volume down a little bit.

“Oh, don’t bother now,” YN said absentmindedly, while entering the open space, leading from upstairs through the living room and straight to the kitchen.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, scrunching his eyebrows.

She heaved a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to calm down. But it was all too much. The scented candles that she usually loved, burning on the coffee table were making her dizzy. The lights that were hanging from the cornice that she referred to as ‘anxiety slayers’, were too bright now. The carpeted floor, fuzzy and delicate, was making her feet feel like drowning in sand - she hated sand. And to cover it all, the noise from the TV was blowing apart her eardrums. It was all too much.

“What do I mean?” She scoffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What do I mean? I don’t know. What could I possibly mean, huh? Let’s think.”

Harry hated her tone of voice. It was nothing like the normal one. Not the one reserved for him, sweet and full of love. Instead, it was full of hate, annoyance and superiority.

“Okay, you’re mad about something. Let’s talk about it, lovie.”

Harry patted the place on the couch right next to him, sending YN his warmest smile. It always worked, and not because he was manipulative but because YN always found help and a safe place within Harry.

“Let’s talk about it!” She mocked, throwing her hands up and down to exaggerate. “I don’t want to talk. I want some peace and quiet. Please, I need space to finish the last pages of my work and I don’t have time for this. Please.”

It was harsh. And it hurt, but Harry had been nothing but patient and understanding. Had been. All of this started to affect him more than he thought he had let it. Even his patience was wearing off.

“YN,” Harry sighed, standing up. “I’m sorry about the TV, okay? I’m sorry. I could’ve listened to it on a lower volume. But it’s not only about it. I know you.”

He really tried to negotiate his way through her right to the centre of it all - her workaholism. Once she got a job to do, it was all she thought, talked and dreamed about from the moment she knew about it to the moment she finished it. And when there was no job, sooner rather than later she was becoming distant and drifting away to just find something else, something new to get into. With that being said, she had never jeopardised her relationships. She never forgot about any important dates, she was included in all birthdays, parties, milestones. She was there for Harry whenever he needed her. It was one of the many things he really admired in her, the one that truly made him amazed by YN. But now, she was forgetting herself.

“Yeah, sure. I really don’t have time for this, Harry.”

And with that she moved on to the kitchen. She needed sugar, feeling her head spin from how low her energy levels were. It was no surprise, she was without breakfast and near to no fluids.

Harry’s blood pressure was very high. He dug his nails into his palms and moved after YN. He had had enough. He could take as much.

“I suggest you make some time, YN,” he emphasised her name to really show her he meant it. “This has been going on for too long. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t go out of that fuckin’ office unless it’s the bathroom or you feel you’re near passing out from exhaustion. It’s -”

“Oh, fuck off! I’m working! I’m trying to achieve something here and your talk and pretences are making my skin crawl. Just- just find someone else to annoy and leave me alone.”

YN slammed the fridge’s door, clashing the bottles inside it. Taking the premade (by Harry) iced coffee with herself, she passed Harry with a thought to go back to writing. Her walk was quickly stalled by Harry’s firm but gentle grab of her arm.

“Caring about you is now called annoying?” He asked, voice a little louder than usually.

“Get off, Harry,” she gritted through her teeth.

“I won’t. I won’t let you overwork yourself to the point of taking you to the hospital. You want to do too much in too little time.”

YN pursed her lips in anger and broke away from Harry’s grip, spilling some of the coffee on her sweatpants and floor. She cursed. The tipping point found her.

“There is nothing like ‘too little time’. There is no time, Harry! The paper should be done by the end of the month. And it’s the 21st! It’s just twelve days. And then there’s Professor Smith breathing down my neck and saying that he wants to read the full version before the deadline. Then there’s Madeline and her struggle to find a job. And Manny needing those vet visits so frequently.” She hyperventilated, trying to catch breath. Tears were daring to come down from her glossy eyes.

“Oh, baby. Take it easy.”

“I can’t take it easy, okay? I can’t! I can’t lay on the couch and do nothing, I can’t take a bath. I can’t go on a walk. I can’t enjoy dinner. I can’t watch TV. I need- I have to work. I have to finish it.”

Harry’s heart was breaking. The look on YN’s face was making him want to cry. He forgot all the things that bothered him. He ignored all the not so nice words YN said in anger. Now was the moment that she needed him the most.

“Come here,” he whispered, strolling towards her with open arms.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

But he didn’t answer. He just embraced her body with his and squeezed lovingly. YN, although confused at first, hugged Harry back immediately melting into him. She really couldn’t see how much destruction she had put herself through. How much pain and stress was sitting upon her shoulders to deal with in the silence of the closed door office. Now, when her body was fitting Harry’s perfectly she remembered that she wasn’t alone. That she didn’t have to deal with it all by herself.

Perhaps Harry didn’t know much about physics, especially quantum mechanics, singularity and black holes. But he was there to listen. He was there to propose another way to bite the bullet, to expand her point of view. He could listen to her quoting Hawking and Cox, fangirling over her favourite scientists wanting to be a part of her thesis all the time. There was nothing better than seeing her feeling fulfilled and content.

“I love you so much, I can’t let you destroy yourself right in front of my eyes.”

He kissed her head, squeezing her body even closer to his.

“I’m so sorry,” YN whispered through sobs.

She felt awful. It was the first fight where she lost control and she hoped it was the last, because she hated each and every moment of it. She wouldn’t be able to let herself forget how uncalled for and hurtful she was towards Harry.

“I am so sorry, Harry.”

“Shhh. It’s okay. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Now, we’re taking a bath. No vetoes. And then I am making dinner for you while you’re sitting here at the counter looking pretty like always. After that we’re watching the British Bake-Off and going to sleep. You need at least 8 hours of sleep, baby. You don’t have that even if I add in all the hours from the whole week,” Harry listed all the activities he knew YN enjoyed whenever she was stressed.

“How do you know I didn’t sleep through the night?” She asked, looking up at him.

Harry caressed her cheek delicately and pecked her lips.

“I can’t sleep when you’re not next to me. I got so used to your body being so close to mine I just wake up whenever you’re getting up. Then there was the light from the office creeping through the gap between the floor and the door. You fell asleep in my arms and an hour later were sitting behind the desk writing. I noticed, baby.”

“Oh, God. I am so sorry. I didn’t realise I was waking you up, love. I - I don’t even have an excuse.”

“You don’t need one. It’s okay.” He kissed her lips once again. “Let me take care of you, yeah? I’m gonna go run the bath and you choose some pyjamas for us both.”

YN nodded her head, her small smile was not reaching her eyes.

“Don’t overthink the situation. I’m being truthful with you, and promising that we’ll talk about what happened today tomorrow. Now, you need some relaxation to take your mind out of the office. Just be here with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Harry wiped her tears away and kissed the way they had been falling down. Now, YN’s smile was beaming from her eyes as well as her upturned lips.

“You really are the best thing that happened in my life.”

Harry laughed, taking her hand in his and directing her upstairs.

“Well, I would hope so. After all, you agreed to marry me.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #physicist!reader #scientist!reader

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black-amortentia · 1 year ago

Text

A Shower of Sparks | Festivities - Snolidays 2023

Severus Snape x Professor!Reader | Warnings: Secret relationship, fluff and maybe a little angst because FEELINGS, I finished and edited this through a migraine, so please forgive any failings!

This is my story for week four "Festivities" of Snolidays 2023! This is the final part, and we get to see a little more from Sev's POV this time. Though all parts can be read independently, there is a bit of a story linking them all together.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Although half the students had gone home for the holiday, the Christmas feast was elaborate and mouthwatering as ever. Roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin juice, and a variety of other delights. The Great Hall filled with a hum of conversation instead of the usual cacophony, which was bittersweet to Severus. While less noise was less likely to give him a headache, it made his conversation with you more likely to be overheard. He would have to be careful of his words.

Being careful around you had grown increasingly difficult.

Not that you had noticed. Severus was always a master of his emotions, even when you were alone. You thought nothing of his silence, pulling him into your conversation with Professor Sprout.

“What about you, Severus? Do you miss spending time with your family during the holidays?”

“No.”

A quick, terse answer, as usual. It was a part of your subterfuge, making a show of how Severus was just as impatient with you in front of everyone. Though this interaction served as a reminder that you knew nothing about Severus’s family. If you thought about it, how much did you really know about him at all?

Under the table, Severus’s hand found your thigh. The perpetual chill of his hand seeped through your clothes, his hand just resting there. A few soft movements of his palm stroking up and down. At first, you thought he was simply in a hurry to be alone. When you saw him take a bite out of the corner of your eye, you realized he hadn’t finished his meal. You reached for the jug of pumpkin juice, brushing his shoulder with your own.

When the feast wound down, Dumbledore approached his owl lectern. “As another successful Christmas draws to a close, I invite you all to assemble outside on the lawn for a final Christmas surprise.”

The hall erupted into murmurs of surprise and curiosity. You shared glances with your fellow teachers, but it seemed this surprise was for faculty as much as for the students. None of you had the foggiest.

As people filed out of the Great Hall in, you fell into step beside Severus. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

Severus slowed his steps, allowing others to fetch hats and scarves and scurry outside. Neither of you spoke until you were alone.

“Yes?” Severus drawled. His hand went to your waist, eager to touch you while he had the opportunity.

“This seems like the perfect time to give you this.” You withdrew a small package wrapped in brightly colored paper. Severus raised an eyebrow as you presented it to him.

He faltered, looking down at the object between you as if it would bite him if he moved too quickly.

Gifts? Severus knew it was Christmas, but he had not expected there to be an exchange of gifts. Severus wasn’t even sure when he’d last received a gift.

“Don’t just stare at it. Open it before someone catches us.”

Severus pulled apart the wrapping paper, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor when he saw what was within. A pair of soft, black leather gloves with an elaborate design of a snake embossed on the back. Severus was speechless. His lack of response brought a smile to your face. You had hoped to surprise and impress, and it seemed to succeed.

“I have nothing for you,” he said quietly.

You waved your hand. “I don’t care about that. I just saw these and thought you might like them.”

Severus stared down at the gloves, coming to his senses and pulling them on. He’d been wrestling with his feelings for you, struggling to understand what he wanted, what he could have with you. Wondering what you truly felt for him. Surely you didn’t care deeply for him. He wouldn’t deserve it, even if you did.

Your relationship had grown deeper over the holidays, but this gift made it clear. You really did care. Enough to keep him in your idle thoughts, enough to bring him gifts and cheer, even when he thought he did not want such things.

There was something Severus knew you wanted, something he hadn’t been able to give you. Out of fear, of a desire to protect you, he held back. Severus wasn’t sure if he could do that any longer. Maybe the best thing he could give you in return was a piece of himself.

“My mother.”

“Hm?” You turned to him, questioning, as you retrieved your scarf.

“You asked earlier if I miss my family during the holidays. I miss my mother.”

You paused your movements, your hand darting out to take his. This was the most Severus had ever opened up to you, and you would not take that for granted. “I would love for you to tell me about her.”

Footsteps down the hall caused the two of you to break apart. You flicked your wand, vanishing the wrapping paper on the floor, and busied yourself with your scarf.

A few Gryffindor boys walked past, heading for the lawn. “I think Snape’s trying to catch someone under the mistletoe. Only way he’s getting a kiss,” one of them joked, not as quietly as he seemed to think.

“Hold your tongue, McLaggen, or next time it will be house points,” Severus snapped, his voice dripping with malice. He shot you a disparaging look, driving his point home.

Frowning, you ducked your head, stung by his cruel tone. Severus preferred to keep things private, but sometimes it felt like he didn’t want the relationship at all. Staying secretive, holding you at arm’s length, sometimes pushing you away. Even those times when you were alone together, when he showed you the side of himself he kept hidden from everyone else, Severus felt closed off. You always respected him and knew he had his reasons, but sometimes it left you wondering.

What exactly were you to Severus Snape?

With the moment you were sharing thoroughly ruined, you finished bundling up. “Don’t want to miss the surprise,” you commented, following the students out to the lawn.

But your eyes said it all. All the hurt and uncertainty contained within your gaze. Severus picked up on your emotions, but his Legillimency confirmed it. Flexing his fingers in his new gloves, he followed silently after you.

Severus had once ruined the most important relationship in his life by saying the wrong thing. Was he on the path to making the same foolish mistake?

The lawn was dimly lit, students and teachers milling about. Severus stood just behind your shoulder, black cloak concealing his movements. He took your hand, lacing your fingers together. His breath lifted your hair when he whispered your name. “Perhaps we can speak later?”

You squeezed his hand gently in return. Severus didn’t hear your whispered response. He had come to a realization. If this continued, he could put you at risk. Severus had seen the Dark Mark on his arm growing stronger. He couldn’t let you be a weakness, or let you fall into danger because of him. No matter how much you meant to him, it would be selfish to keep you without telling you the truth. A truth he could never tell you.

But he couldn’t keep you at arm’s length forever. Severus knew he would lose you. Sometimes he already felt you slipping away. You deserved more than a man who only gave you part of himself. Would it be better to end things now, before he made it more painful for both of you?

Severus had to decide.

A sharp whistle pierced the air. The crowd fell silent, looking to the sky.

A crimson firework shot up over the turrets with a trail of golden sparks, exploding in a massive sphere of red and gold that lit up the night. The sparks became a red and gold Gryffindor lion in a ferocious roar. When it faded, a similar display followed for each of the houses and finally the Hogwarts school crest hovered above the sky.

While everyone watched the skies, Severus watched you. Eyes sparkling in the light of the fireworks, lips curved into that smile he delighted in. The way you held his hand in the darkness, sharing the moment together, even in secret.

Severus decided.

With a swift tug on your arm, Severus turned you around and pulled you against him. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, hand snaking around to the small of your back. Forgetting all about the fireworks, you leaned into Severus. You didn’t care if someone saw you, just as Severus didn’t seem to.

There was something different about this kiss, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. It somehow held more than your past intimate moments. More emotion, intent, care, more of everything Severus. When you finally broke away, he held your gaze, eyes filled with a resolve you’d never seen before.

“I love you.”

Severus’s voice was barely a whisper, and you felt the words more than you heard them. It didn’t diminish their strength in the slightest.

“Sev…”

“I have many things to tell you.”

Severus could never tell you everything, but he could tell you some things. You deserved all the truth he could afford.

“I want to hear all of it.” Maybe you weren’t expecting the story you would hear, but it didn’t matter. Nothing would change your mind - or your heart. “I love you, too, Severus.”

Abandoning the fireworks, Severus led you back to his quarters. He had every intention of giving you the truth he owed you, but maybe after one more kiss.

A reminder of what he would fight for in the times ahead.

#severus snape #pro snape #pro severus snape #professor snape #snape #snape fandom #harry potter #severus snape fluff #severus snape x reader #severus snape x reader fluff #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #severus x reader #pro severus #snolidays2023 #snapecelebration2023

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