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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 17 days ago

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House Calls.

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student. ANGST.

Part three

1999:

Walking into a hair salon was an interesting experience. Pulling into an overly stuffed parking lot in futile anticipation of being in and out “in a decent time.” opening the salon door and walking into a room overflowing with peering eyes full of a mixture of both curiosity and judgment that covers you from your head to the bottom of your favorite shoes. Slinking down into chairs that go from stuffed and comfortable to hard as steel while waiting for the appointment that was due more than an hour ago. Out bursts of group laughter, “girllll, no she didn’t!” and “say what now?!” coupled with the familiar smell of hair sheen spray and neutralizing shampoo that seeps through the fog of sporadic steam that fills the air from the super-wattage, neck-burning hair dyers, steamers and marcel ‘top of your ear frying’ irons, reminds you that this is going to be long day.

Aaliyah Noelle Davenport sat in an unoccupied salon chair within a popular salon in Baton Rouge called Gina’s. Gina’s had been around for over ten years. The pages of her coloring book she was currently scribbling in with old crayons kept her busy so she wouldn’t go snooping around like last time. She burned her fingers touching a curling iron heater.

“He’s back home…coming to pick Aaliyah up in a few…”

Aaliyah’s mother, Rochelle, was currently doing a roller set on a client. She worked the rollers around thick strands of hair with her long, curved, golden nails. Rochelle was a hard working woman. She did hair and worked night shifts at a local motel to pay the bills. Anything to make up for Aaliyah’s father being in prison for six years.

She was the epitome of 90s fine: Rochelle embodied a beauty that was both timeless and undefinable, leaving a permanent imprint on anyone that crossed her path. Her unique blend of elegance, confidence, and charisma inspired and resonated with Aaliyah. That kind of fine isn’t just about looks — it’s about attitude, style, and an effortless grace.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you. Money can't make you anything…only your actions can make you something. Money can buy you things that make life easier but one thing it can’t buy is happiness…”

“Girl, stop acting like you ain’t happy he back home...”

One of her mother’s friends and fellow stylist, Donna, was flipping through one of many hair catalogs the shop owned.

“The less he know the better,” Rochelle added the final touches before she walked her client over to the hooded dryers, “It was one time, that’s it…”

“Rochelle, if you don’t calm your fucking nerves. He won’t ever find the fuck out if you don’t hush!”

“Okay, okay…shit–that’s him coming up right now. Aaliyah?”

“Mhm?” Aaliyah mumbled from her seat while coloring in a teddy bear.

“Your father is here…come on and get ya stuff. He’s gonna take you back to the house while I finish up. C’mon, little girl!”

Aaliyah frowned and pouted her lip while packing away her crayons and coloring book.

“Fix that face. You got homework to do…”

She climbed down from her seat and slipped her Barbie book bag over her shoulders. A candy painted Donk with shiny rims slowed to a stop outside of the salon and Aaliyah’s eyes lit up when she recognized her father’s low–cut ceasar with the deep waves. He shut his door and strolled over to the entrance of the salon with swagger.

Roland Davenport AKA Pressure. He was a smooth cat from Baton Rouge with a nefarious past and a deep love for his daughter. Aaliyah was his entire world.

“Is that my little girl! What’s up, Princess!”

He scooped up his six year old and spun her around. Aaliyah giggled joyfully while clinging onto her father’s crisp white tee. His skin was the deepest brown and blemish free. He flashed his pearly whites at her before giving her a kiss to the forehead. Roland put Aaliyah down and then he made his way over to Rochelle.

Aaliyah watched her parents hug each other affectionately. Their lips connected with a gluttonous passion. Roland’s hands roamed down to cuff Rochelle’s dump trunk and she squeezed his bulging biceps in return.

“Stop! Stop…I’m with a client…”

“How long ya gonna be, baby? I was thinking ‘bout taking my favorite girls out to eat.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rochelle grinned flirtatiously, “Where to?”

“It’s a surprise…”

Aaliyah’s parents talked for a few more minutes before her dad led her out of the salon hand in hand. She skipped along the way. Roland opened the back door and took her back pack so that she could buckle in.

“Daddy, I wanna sit up front.” Aaliyah protested with her sweet little voice, “Please?”

“Liyah. You can’t sit up here today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Aaliyah hung her head before fastening her seatbelt. Roland made his way to the drivers side and climbed in.

“How was school today?” Roland questioned, staring back at his daughter through the rear view mirror.

“Good.” Aaliyah flashed a grin with no two front teeth.

“That’s not what ya momma told me…”

Her smile disintegrated.

Aaliyah fiddled with her pleated, khaki uniform skirt. She avoided her father’s gaze, afraid he’d appear angry and she would be in big trouble.

“Look at me, Liyah…”

She did as she was told, staring up at her father.

“I’m not mad. You had every right to defend yourself. ‘Dem lil’ boys won’t mess with you again after what ya did…”

Aaliyah had been dealing with constant bullying from two little boys in her first grade class. They would pull her long plats, kick the back of her chair, call her names, and other cruel things that always resulted in her crying in the bathroom.

“Now if these lil’ niggas wanna have kids of their own someday, they better leave my daughter alone or I’m putting foot in ass…”

Roland made a silly face at Aaliyah and she couldn’t help but to smile and laugh.

“How ‘bout we make a pit stop to grab a snowball?”

“YAY!!!” Aaliyah cheered, her little arms up in the air like she’d just had a victory lap.

Roland cranked the radio, Sho Nuff by 8ball & MJG blasting through the speakers. Aaliyah could feel the seat beneath her vibrate. She watched her father rap the lyrics, a sudden gush of humid air flooding the car when he let the windows down. Roland extended his arm from the window to greet people he knew, the Chevrolet Impala Donk slow gliding through the hood.

They pulled up to a snowball stand that was situated next to a bowling alley and roller-skate rink. Rolland turned his music down before looking back at Aaliyah over the headrest of his seat.

“Which flavor?”

“Georgia Peach!”

“Aight, munchkin. I’ll be back…”

Roland climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Aaliyah peered out of the open window, her eyes following her father’s retreating frame. What she hadn’t noticed, however, was the way an all black Escalade crept up, all four doors opening in unison.

Everything went in slow motion.

Repeated muzzle flashes sparked the air like it was the Fourth of July.

RAT–rat-rat-rat-rat!!!

Her scream pierced the air.

——

Those memories flooded Aaliyah’s mind that Wednesday morning. She’d woken up in good spirits, ready for her Ethics and Psychology class and a lunch date with a special someone. After showering, Aaliyah slipped on a pair of light grey leggings that molded into her hips, thighs, and booty. She paired it with a fitted, white T-shirt and low top Vans. Glasses on, messy hair pinned back with a claw clip, she threw on a denim jacket and collected her school bag near the front door.

Before she could even leave, a hard, booming knock on the storm door of her Shotgun House caused her forehead to wrinkle with surprise. She paused for a second before walking up to the door. Aaliyah brought one dark brown eye to the peephole.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Aaliyah flinched.

“Aaliyah! Open the door! I know you’re here!”

It was her junkie mother.

She didn’t look like herself.

Acne, dull skin, and self-inflicted wounds from picking at her face. Needle marks and collapsed veins from shooting up.

Rochelle was unrecognizable.

One look at her, and all the trauma from her youth flooded her mind. After her father was shot down, Rochelle went into a deep state of depression. She lost her job at the salon, and the pay checks from her motel job didn’t keep the bills paid. Rochelle had no choice but to seek help from a man. Any man that was willing. She sent Aaliyah away at the age of ten for a few years to live with her estranged grandmother, Ruby. Ruby was a strict, Christian woman with no tolerance for misbehavior or rebellion. She lived in a different Parrish in rural Louisiana, closer to Shelby Springs.

Aaliyah was made to do yard and farm work. She had Bible studies on weekends and couldn’t hang with many children because their parents weren’t ‘Godly Folk’. The only thing Aaliyah really enjoyed was horseback riding whenever her grandmother would visit a church friend. When Aaliyah was nearing fourteen, she started sneaking out to see an older boy. Word got around and Ruby lashed out on Aaliyah.

“I didn’t have sex with him! We were just kissing!”

Aaliyah wailed, hands raised to brace herself from her grandmother’s blows.

“You’re just like your mother! Can’t keep your legs closed! Don’t lie to me, Aaliyah! I know you slept with that boy!” Ruby shouted.

She couldn’t stay there any longer. Aaliyah called her mother that same night, begging her to come get her. Rochelle drove an hour out and when Ruby opened her door, Rochelle shoved past her mother.

“You put your hands on my child?! You evil bitch!”

Aaliyah watched from the top of the stairs with her packed bags. Rochelle and Ruby were in the middle of a screaming match.

“You asked for my help, remember?! She lives under my roof, she abides by my rules!” Ruby argued.

“But did I ask you to beat on my child?! Just the same ol’ shit with you! I can’t even rely on you to be there for my daughter—”

“OH! Now look who’s talking. You couldn’t even get your shit together after Roland died to be a mother. Which man is it now paying the bills, Rochelle?! Look at all this,” Ruby pointed to Rochelle’s jewelry and designer, “Don’t look like you struggling to me.”

Rochelle remained silent, scornful eyes glaring at Ruby.

“Aaliyah! Let’s go…”

She hadn’t seen her mother in almost four years. Rochelle looked…fancy.

“Sully is in the car…He drove me here…I missed you, Liyah…”

Ruby watched with folded arms. She locked eyes with Aaliyah, a look of guilt flashing across her face for just a second. They left without a backwards glance.

Aaliyah was very careful around Sully. He was a drug dealer, bringing home money and gifts to spoil Aaliyah. She became used to the revolving door of other criminals entering her home. She was just happy to with her mother again. Aaliyah focused on her studies and poured herself into cheerleading and hip hop majorette.

Eventually, things started to go downhill. Rochelle was introduced to harder drugs, Sully owed people money and he had gambling debts. Things in their home started to disappear, bills were piling up, and Sully turned violent. It took for Ruby and Aaliyah to fight back for Sully to finally leave. It opened the same wound of her father’s death, Rochelle unable to stay strong. Rochelle’s addiction became worse, so bad to the point that she would steal from her own daughter.

Aaliyah couldn’t handle it. As soon as she graduated high school, she got her own place and left her mother behind. It broke her heart, but in order for her to evolve, she needed to break free. Aaliyah hated working at Hooters, and when she turned twenty–six, she started stripping at Crazy Horse.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you…”

Aaliyah opened the front door, but the storm door remained locked. Aaliyah stared down at her mother. Rochelle looked desperate and more frail than the last time she showed up. She’d relapsed again.

“Hey, baby…”

Rochelle pressed her hands against the door.

“Can you help me? I need some cash—”

“I gave you five hundred dollars when I last saw you, momma. I see you back on that shit again…”

Rochelle hung her head in shame.

“I’m trying, Aaliyah. You don’t understand how hard it is.”

“You’ve tried for over twenty years now. I’m tired of helping you and all you do is use me. Weren’t you staying with Mama Ruby?”

She definitely wasn’t staying with Aaliyah.

“I can’t stay wit’ you?”

“Hell no.” Aaliyah quipped.

“I’m your fucking mother!”

“Did you forget what happened the last time you lived with me?! You stole shit from my house! I don’t trust you!”

Aaliyah didn’t need this. She had to go to school.

“Please…please, Li–Li. I’m hungry…I’m broke…pleaseeee…”

Aaliyah stared her mother down with a venomous glance. There will always be a soft spot for Rochelle, but the repeated hurt was exhausting. Seeing her mother like this broke her heart. She just couldn’t stop using.

“Okay…”

Aaliyah opened her storm door. Rochelle slipped inside quickly. Aaliyah kept a watchful eye on her mother while she admired Aaliyah’s cozy home.

“C’mon…”

They entered Aaliyah’s kitchen. Rochelle climbed onto a bar stool, peering around with a nervous look. Aaliyah opened her fridge, bringing out leftover catfish and grits she’d prepared last night for dinner.

“That piece right there…yeah…”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes.

She gave her mother the thickest piece of catfish and a good portion of cheesy grits. While the food heated, Aaliyah reclined her plush bottom against the counter. She stared her mother down, unable to shake the pain that fought to bubble to the surface.

“How’s school?” Rochelle questioned, unable to avoid picking at her skin.

Aaliyah tampered down her resentment and cleared her throat to speak.

“Good. I’ll be graduating in June.”

“That’s good, baby. Real good…June…How many tickets you gettin’?”

“Uhm,” Aaliyah checked on the catfish, “Not really sure yet.”

“Still dancing?”

Aaliyah rubbed her arms.

“No.”

The smell of the crispy fish wafted her mother’s nose. Aaliyah opened the oven to retrieve it. The grits on the stove top were nice and smooth now. After plating the food, Aaliyah wrapped it with aluminum foil and slid it across the kitchen island to her mother. She opened her pantry to grab a plastic fork and knife, securing it with some paper towels before holding it out towards her mother.

“I can’t sit here and eat?”

“You know you can’t…”

“Aaliyah—”

“Look, I have class. I’m gon’ miss it if you don’t take this shit and leave—”

“LOOK,” Rochelle stood, “I’m sorry you hate me so much. I’m sorry about all that shit, but I’m still your mother, Li–Li.”

“Oh? Last time I remember you being a mother was when I was six years old. Anything after that don’t count.” Aaliyah fired back.

Rochelle parted her cracked lips to speak, but her words stilled in her throat. Her tears flowed down her face and she wiped them away with the back of her dingy sleeve. Aaliyah stood before her with a rigid expression.

“Okay, I’ll leave…”

Rochelle grabbed her plate of food and Aaliyah stepped out of the way for her to walk in front of her. Tears prickled her eyes but she hastily pulled herself together. Aaliyah followed her mother towards the front door. She opened it, unable to reach her mother’s gaze.

“I love you, Li–Li…”

A solemn tear cascaded down Aaliyah’s face.

“…think you could look out for me?”

Aaliyah released a sigh before reaching into her bag. She plucked out whatever cash she had– one hundred and fifty dollars– handing it over to her mother.

Rochelle accepted it shamefully.

“Thank you, Li–Li. Take care of yourself…”

——

Professor Richmond carried his brown leather briefcase with him into the lecture hall. There were already students present the more he approached his desk in his brown dress shoes. His oceanic eyes swept the rows of students, his gaze zeroed into a vacant desk. Bringing his Apple Watch up, he was right on schedule. She would be arriving late today it seems.

Terry couldn’t go the remainder of his weekend into the early weekday without Aaliyah crossing his mind. She invaded and consumed him without her physical presence. He was two grand broker and overjoyed. He’d spend more on her in a millisecond. That shapely body is a walking sin. He found himself daydreaming of how it would feel to press his muscles into the softness of her curves. How would the curl of his biceps feel around her thighs? The ridges of his abdomen beneath her hands as she explored?

“I hope you all read up on Darwin and The Moral Sense. We’re jumping straight into discussion…”

Terry removed his navy blue suit jacket, then he rolled up the sleeves to his white, button down shirt that he wore tucked into matching navy blue slacks. He used a red Expo marker to write: Chapter Three of The Descent of Man. After capping the marker, he turned his attention to the class. With his pointer finger, he pushed his glasses back from the bridge of his nose.

“The keystone significance of morality in human distinctness is clearly asserted by Darwin in the first sentence…and the quote says….”

Terry snapped his fingers before pointing at a student within the second row with their hand raised. A white male with wooly, dark brown hair and a hooked nose.

“I fully subscribe to the judgment of those writers who maintain that of all the differences between man and the lower animals—”

“The moral sense of conscience is by far the most important, correct, James. But why is that?”

He cast his penetrating eyes across his students before flicking his gaze at the door. Another student bravely raised their hand and Terry motioned for them to speak. He continued to lecture shortly after that.

“We know from his notebooks that Darwin was reading the contemporary philosophical literature about moral behavior in 1837…”

As he continued, pacing in front of his desk, hands in the pockets of his slacks, the absence of Aaliyah weighed heavy on him. Minutes ticked away and soon enough, class was dismissed. Terry spoke with a student after class about the grade he’d given them for the midterm paper before packing away his things and leaving.

He made it back to his makeshift office space, shut the door and shuffled inside, careful not to knock his briefcase into stacks of decades old textbooks and files. With his thumb and pointer finger, he flicked on his table lamp, a yellow glow igniting the space. The swivel chair situated at his rectangular, wooden desk creaked slight as he settled down. Terry cracked his wrists, a habit of his when he felt too wound up.

iPhone in hand, he found Aaliyah’s contact.

“Here,” Terry handed Aaliyah his phone, “Put your number in.”

Aaliyah stared up at Terry through her curled lashes with a smile that enticed him into a further aroused state. She held out her small hand and made a come hither motion. Terry felt his phone slip from his fingertips and watched her with a sharp gaze and a slight smirk. She typed away, and he caught her eye before she saved it.

Terry texted her phone later that evening and Aaliyah replied with a kiss emoji.

Terry: Goodnight, Beautiful ❤️

Aaliyah: Nite Professor 😘

He texted her on Sunday, not saying much, just a simple greeting. He didn’t want to come off too strong, although he was fiendish for her attention.

Terry: Hi, Aaliyah. Hope you slept well ❤️ Any plans for today?

Aaliyah: Hi 😏 slept well thanks for asking. how was your sleep? & I’m currently out to brunch with friends.

Terry: You’re welcome. had a great rest. Brunch is fun. I’m sure you look great 😌

Aaliyah: I do 😉

Terry: SO BEAUTIFUL 😍

Aaliyah: Thank you ❤️ can’t wait to see you on Wednesday.

Terry: I’m looking forward to it ❤️

Terry sent Aaliyah a new text.

Terry: Hey, is everything okay?

It wasn’t like her to miss class. Terry unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. He stood to stretch his sore legs from his workout earlier, easing his way over to the only window in his office. Terry looked out the window. The sky was tar-black and the large clouds seemed as if they were moving towards him. He heard a tapping on the window and then it became a pitter-patter. People ran for cover outside and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The roofs of the cars danced with spray and he could hear the murmuring of the rain through the window. It sounded like the buzzing of angry bees.

Buzz Buzz

Terry back tracked to his desk, reaching over and grabbing his phone.

Aaliyah: I’m sorry I missed class, Terry. Everything isn’t okay actually. I wasn’t feeling it. Can I call you?

Terry: Yes

He answered immediately.

Terry took a seat, “Hello?”

“Hi…”

Her voice sent chills down his spine.

Terry sensed her sadness.

“Want to talk about it?”

“…Can we still meet for lunch?”

“We can. It’s raining pretty bad out. Sure you’ll be okay driving?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m standing on my back porch right now…looks like it’s slowing down.”

“Okay. Uh…I was thinking Noir. It’s a nice jazz inspired restaurant and it’s a great vibe for cozy and intimate dining. Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, that’s okay. I can meet you there. I know Noir.”

“Okay, drive safely, love.” Terry said.

“I will, you too. See you there.”

——

Noir didn’t have many patrons that afternoon, and Terry wasn’t complaining. He scooted himself into a booth, the dim light hanging above him so dull as if a shade had been cast upon it. His wet dress shoes squeaked slightly as he made himself comfortable. Terry ordered two filtered waters with lemon and hot water to soak the silverware. His legs swung back and forth beneath the booth table anxiously. Eyes that appeared turquoise glanced towards the entrance and he made out the silhouette of Aaliyah Davenport entering.

She must’ve gotten caught in the rain. She was dressed casually, a large Louis Vuitton tote bag over her right shoulder and a denim jacket flung over her left arm. She paused, eyes searching for Terry. He leaned further out of the booth and waved her down. Aaliyah fixed her gaze on him and a small smile graced her beautiful lips. Terry watched her saunter over, and the further she approached, the more her smile brightened.

Terry stood, fixing his pants since they had ridden up on his thighs and bulged around his crotch. Aaliyah slowed down to a stop before him, an awkward pause with nervous glances between them. Ultimately, Terry opened his arms and Aaliyah giggled before wrapping her arms around him. Terry caught a whiff of her hair; coconut and hibiscus. Mmm…he could feel the slight dampness of her curls through his dress shirt.

Her T-shirt beneath his fingertips was slightly wet from the rain droplets. Aaliyah broke away from him and gave him one last look before settling into the booth. Terry followed, situated across from her. He loved how natural and beautiful she looked. Her curls were slightly heat damaged at the ends, giving it personality. She wasn’t wearing her glasses today, Terry able to enjoy those pretty brown eyes again. Her hoop earrings swung as she swept hair from her eyes.

“I ordered us some water for now if that’s okay.” Terry mentioned.

“That’s ‘awrite with me, Professor.”

She has such a cute voice. Honeyed.

“I hope I didn’t miss anything crucial. I’m sorry.” Aaliyah apologized.

“Don’t be. We discussed chapter three…have you read it?”

“I have. No assignments?” Aaliyah replied.

“No—Aaliyah, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t care to talk about class. He wanted to know what was bothering her. She looked so saddened. It didn’t sit right with him.

“Uh…it’s a lot. I don’t wanna pour my shit out on you.”

“I’m willing to listen, if you’ll let me. No pressure…”

Aaliyah tilted her head and considered his words. Their water arrived and the waiter was ready to take their orders. Aaliyah hadn’t even looked over the menu.

“Give us another minute, please? Thanks…”

Aaliyah started flipping through the menu. The conical body of the saxophone in the background soothing.

Terry decided to order them an appetizer. Mini crab bites. He wasn’t too sure what to order for lunch.

“Do you like crab bites?” Terry asked.

“I do. That sounds good,” Aaliyah peered up at him with a timid smile, “I was thinking of getting a salmon ceasar salad.”

“Tasty,” Terry stroked his goatee, “I’ll probably do a shrimp Po’Boy.”

Their waiter circled back and Terry ordered everything. Alone again, they sipped their water and caught each other’s eye. Aaliyah pushed the wedge of lemon in her glass down further with her straw. She released a sigh before leaning against the table.

“My momma showed up today. Right when I was leaving for school.”

“Ya’ momma? I take it you’re not happy about that…”

Aaliyah’s eyes glistened. Terry wanted to reach out and stroke her soft cheek.

“My mom is a drug addict. Been an addict since I was sixteen.”

Terry allowed what she revealed to him to settle into his mind. He gave her a slow nod, and his eyes fixated on her deeper.

Aaliyah continued with a shaky voice, “After my father was killed, she became depressed and she blamed herself for the longest time. I was there when it happened…saw the whole thing,” Aaliyah rubbed her arms, “He hadn’t even been out of prison for a year and he was shot…”

Terry watched her straighten her back and sniffle, trying her best to calm herself down.

“My momma’s been in and out of rehab. I’ve help her, my grandmomma helped her…she stole from me, disappointed me every single time…” Aaliyah stared down at her hands, “And all she can think to do is show up on my doorstep with her hands out. That broke me.”

Terry twisted his full lips and his eyes fell to her hands. He watched the way her fingers fiddled. With an impulse so strong, he covered her hands with his much larger ones, stroking them with his thumbs. Aaliyah watched the way his hands worked to sooth her. Like he was massaging the stress out of her. Aaliyah exhaled, and then she locked eyes with Terry.

“I love her so much…”

“I know you do, I can see it…I can feel it.” Terry spoke softly.

He released her hands so she could thumb away a tear.

“I’m so sorry, Aaliyah. Sorry about your father. Sorry about your mom…”

“Thank you, Terry. I really appreciate it. I know this is supposed to be a nice lunch. I feel like I’m ruining it with my fuckin’ bullshit.”

“There’s nothing ruined, love. I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to open up to me about it. I just don’t like seeing you like this…your mom isn’t willing to get help?”

“That’s the thing,” Aaliyah took a sip of her water to help get rid of the lump in her throat, “She’s been in and out of rehab plenty of times. It’s this guy she keeps running back to. I don’t really remember his name…all I know is that he’s a dealer. She’s always had a thing for criminals.”

“Your grandmother, what’s up with that?—am I asking too many questions?”

“No, no,” Aaliyah shook her head, “My grandma is…her and my mom have always had a strained relationship. She’s attempted to help, but it never works out. There’s a lot of unresolved issues and my mom just can’t stick around long enough to deal wit’ it, ya know?”

“I get it. What was your father like?”

Aliyah frowned slightly, “He was so funny. Had so much swagger to ‘em. Loved cars. He got himself mixed up in some shit. He was doing a favor for a friend that turned out to be a robbery and it landed him in prison.”

She had this faraway look in her eyes, as if she were recalling the nostalgic feeling of being with her dad.

“…I saw him…die…and…” Aaliyah exhaled, “Took me a while to shake it…”

“Damn,” Terry hung his head, “Aaliyah, that’s heavy…”

Terry squeezed her hands and sought out her gaze. Aaliyah looked across at him and a single tear cascaded down her cheek. Terry released her hand and lifted from his seat, scooting in next to her. He snatched up a few napkins and dabbed her face gently.

“It’s okay…it’s okay, Aaliyah…so sorry…”

One hand rubbed her shoulder while she bawled up the used napkin in her hand. With one last sniffle, Aaliyah turned her brown eyes that reminded him of cognac through a glass and just then, she leaned in and those lips he’d desired to feel grazed his cheek with a feather–like touch before molding into his skin with a pressure so soothing his eyelash’s fluttered in satisfaction.

“Thanks for listening,” Aaliyah whispered in his ear.

Terry turned his head at an angle towards her. He gave her a searing, sideways glance.

“You’re welcome. Anytime…”

“Crab bites…”

Startled, Terry leaped up from his seat and returned to his side of the booth. Aaliyah thanked the waiter and they put in their orders. Terry and Aaliyah shared the appetizer. After chewing, Aaliyah licked her lips before speaking.

“Tell me a little more about Terry Richmond.”

Terry gave Aaliyah an attractive half–smirk.

“Ask me and you shall receive.”

“Why teaching? Is that something you’ve always had a passion for?”

“That’s a really good question. Uh…yes. I was an instructor when I spent time in the Marines. I trained Marines for combat and firearms. Each day was new and exciting. I’ve always had this…desire to share knowledge, inspire others, and make a positive impact. Although my pops wanted me to continue into the Marines, I fell in love with Psychology. So…I got my PhD a year ago, and here I am.”

Aaliyah sat her face into her hands with her elbows propped up on the table, listening to him like he was retelling a fairytale story. Her eyes sparkled with joy at listening to him drone on about moving to North Carolina with his parents after Katrina, enlisted into the Marines, finished his undergrad, living there up until the age of twenty–seven before he moved back to Louisiana to attend LSU. Both of his parents are still together and living in North Carolina. Their food arrived and they tucked in, talking in between bites.

Terry was happy that Aaliyah is in better spirits. She smiled and giggled and it warmed his heart. She thanked him for cheering her up. Terry was honored. The topic veered to hobbies and interests. Aaliyah shared that she used to be a majorette dancer.

“Fishing? Living outdoors? Wow. I grew up doing farm work and riding horses but nothing that deep,” Aaliyah responded with a giggle.

“I can take you sometime…show you what it’s like.”

Terry cocked his head to the side and stared at Aaliyah. She held onto his gaze, the tip of her tongue peeking through her teeth. Terry wanted to wrap his full lips around her tongue and suck on it.

“So…is it a date then? Taking me fishing and camping, Professor?” Aaliyah teased.

“I’ll take you anywhere,” Terry slurped down some water.

“Anywhere?” Aaliyah dragged out with her cutesy voice and lips twinged with a sultry smile.

“Anywhere…anything for you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Aaliyah smiled, “You’ve earned the privilege to spoil me.”

They laughed in unison.

“How did I earn it, exactly?” Terry quirked a brow up and narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Giving me two thousand dollars cash was enough to let me know,” Aaliyah replied bluntly.

Terry chucked. He licked his lips, eyes scanning the space before he lowered his voice an octave, “You liked that, huh?”

“More than you’ll ever know…”

“Let me know, girl…”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled.

“Let me know…” Terry persisted.

“I didn’t like it I love it. I’m a princess and I should be treated accordingly.”

Terry’s eyelids lowered slightly. He leaned in on his arms, eyes roaming her body before staring into her eyes again. He felt a sensation so deep within his ripped core. Something akin to butterflies. Aaliyah excited him. That mouth on her…he loved it.

“The minute I laid my eyes on you at that bachelor party…you were gettin’ all my money…”

“Good, that’s what I wanted,” Aaliyah nibbled on her straw with a teasing smile.

Terry licked his lips. He stared at her through his spectacles while his fingers drummed against the table slowly. Aaliyah sat her glass down and leaned back against the booth.

Staring.

They were practically eye–fucking each other.

Beneath that table, Aaliyah took it upon herself to run her pointed, left foot up Terry’s right leg. She did it achingly slow. It traveled up and up until she stopped with her foot propped up against his seat between his legs. Terry did one lazy sweep of his eyes over her foot and his teeth latched onto his bottom lip.

”Aaliyah…”

“Huh?”

Terry was going to lose it. Lose all his control. He was itching to walk her to the back of the restaurant, push her into a bathroom stall, and beat that fat pussy up with her chest against the door and his large hands keeping her pinned in place and stable on that dick.

“If I could tell you how beautiful you are…how gorgeous you are a million times I would. The moment I laid eyes on you at the beginning of the semester…I couldn’t ignore it. The feeling. I just knew that I had to have you…”

Aaliyah sat transfixed by his words. Lips slightly parted, eyes misty. He loved that look on her face. He wanted her to look at him like that in a kneeled position with his dick hanging in her face waiting to be tended to.

The thoughts in his mind…

“Wow,” Aaliyah chuckled breathlessly, “You want me that bad, huh? Wow…”

She acted as if a man never pined for her so deep like Terry. His unspoken energy even spoke volumes.

He. Needed. Aaliyah.

Professor or not.

“You don’t even know…”

“Mm,” Aaliyah shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip. Her eyes opened slowly, “Terry…you gotta stop.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah’s thighs clenching beneath the table and Terry’s thighs swinging back and forth.

“Why stop?” Terry whispered.

Aaliyah kisses her teeth, “‘Cause…”

Her cute voice was enough to make the tip of his dick respond. He could feel himself leaking.

Thank God the waiter returned with the check. Terry paid the tab, and Aaliyah looked at him, not quite ready to go. Terry didn’t want to, but he had an evening course starting within the next hour or so and he needed to head back to campus.

Fuck that class. Look what’s in front of of you, nigga…

“You ready?” Terry questioned reluctantly.

——

They hadn’t even made it out of Noir for two seconds before it started again. They quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. Up to now, the sky had been postcard-perfect, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade was beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of clouds were forming, blotting out the old-gold colour of the sun.

Aaliyah got the first splatter of rain when she was halfway across the parking lot. She took shelter under her Jean jacket, hoping that she could see out past the shower. Terry’s brawny bicep pulled her closer while he covered himself with his own jacket. Droplets of moisture began to drip from the leaves. They were sprinkling onto the concrete like a gardener’s hose. Then the rainfall became more intense. A wall of rain moved over the oak trees and the drops were drumming against the tops of cars. So much rain was falling that the sound blurred into one long, whirring noise. It reminded her of the rotor blades on a helicopter.

Terry’s truck was closer. He rushed to fling the door opened, helping Aaliyah inside before sprinting to his side and climbing in. He slammed the door shut before tossing his drenched suit jacket onto the back seat. The humidity caused the car windows to fog as it poured. Eventually, the noise lessened and the drops faded into a musical chime. They sought out each other’s gaze and laughed.

Aaliyah threw her head back and sighed with contempt. This was a great lunch date. She was so happy she came. After bawling her eyes out about her mother, she needed some fun. Terry was more than just his looks. He was so refreshing. Such a gentleman. Hard working. So deeply fascinated with her. And it was more than just a lustful gaze. A gaze Aaliyah was more than used to. No. This man wanted her.

Aaliyah turned her cheek against the headrest to watch him. Terry felt her eyes and he gave her his undivided attention.

“I want to see you again, as soon as possible, Aaliyah.”

The urgency in his voice let her know he was a man about action.

“I’ll let you know what my days are looking like…okay?”

Terry hummed. The sound vibrated her core. He was impatient.

“Why not check on that now? Friday for an hour and thirty minute class ain’t enough.”

The bite in his voice sounded so much different from his professional tone. Aaliyah was stunned.

“Okay,” She pulled out her phone from her bag, “I have plans Saturday with friends…”

“Friday night?”

“Nothing.” Aaliyah replied.

“Then how about Friday? I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I have to study, Terry.” Aaliyah said, a playful glint in her eyes.

Aaliyah clocked the way Terry’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath. She imagined what he looked like beneath his business attire. Her imagining could only conjure up enough for her to fantasize about. She needed to see the real thing. Up close. Touch on him and memorize the planes and valleys of muscle threatening to bring the freak out of her. He looked like he could bench press and squat three times her size and Aaliyah wanted to test that theory. In many positions.

“I’ll help you study.”

“Isn’t that cheating?!” Aaliyah replied.

“It’s called tutoring, baby girl.”

Baby girl? Oh fucking hell…

Aaliyah became acutely aware of her nipples hardening. So did Terry. His eyes were glued to her breasts sitting up and jutted out.

Terry reached down beside him and his seat reclined back. Aaliyah’s heart skipped a beat. He gave her a pointed look. Aliyah’s eyes fell to his inviting lap…and a rather mountainous bulge…

It was as if the blood coursing through his body carried downward and pooled into his…

The veins in his arms…she could see them clearer now. His large hands resting against his thighs…that man spread…she felt a buzzing in her ears. The silent dominance in his posture…

Aaliyah lifted from her seat in a frenzy, Terry scooped her up with one powerful arm around her waistline and Aaliyah climbed over his lap. She sat herself snugly over his thick bulge that protruded from the crotch of his navy blue slacks like an eruption was waiting to happen. Her fat pussy sat on that protrusion and her breath hitched.

“Professor…”

Terry’s large hands double–cuffed her thick ass and he forced his grip upward, arching her back. Those thick, long fingers sank into the plump flesh as he groped her. One hand above her, pressed against the roof of the car, Aaliyah allowed the feeling of him squeezing and jiggling her cakes to consume her.

His glasses had fogged up. Their mingled, uneven breaths along with the sound of the leather seats filled the space between them. Aaliyah felt his hands smooth around to the junction between her thighs and booty and he applied force, making her ass move on its own—left cheek, right cheek— peering down over her shoulder while she was pressed against him. Aaliyah had her feet folded over his knees.

“Ughhh….”

A deep grunt followed by his arms wrapping around her waist tight. Biceps cutting into her back. The new position had Aaliyah sitting over his print harder. They sat like that for a few minutes, Terry’s nose was pressed against her neck, inhaling cool air and exhaling heated air that caused goosebumps to spread.

His arms loosened and Aaliyah tilted her head down to meet his eyes. She removed Terry’s glasses, resting them inside of his cup holder. The interior of his car smelled like blackberry clove and leather. He smelled like sandalwood. Those eyes. She got lost in them before tearing her gaze away to stare at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Terry asked softly.

Aaliyah closed the space between them and one of Terry’s hands tangled into her wet coils while his other hand sat above her ass. They gave each other an open–mouthed kiss filled with a feverish need for each other. Wet smacking noises sent signals of arousal. Eyes closed, heads swiveling, equally tasty and soft lips molding into each other’s. Aaliyah allowed her hands to run beneath his dress shirt and white better, coming into contact with warm skin stretched over an impressive physique.

“Unh…”

She found herself moaning.

A single finger of Terry’s traced the waistline of her leggings. The sensation caused her body to shiver. Aaliyah sat up, leaning back against his steering wheel. Terry locked eyes with her while his fingers brushed from her waist down to her pussy. The heat radiating from there could have added to the fog on the windows .

“You deserve so much…you’re so fuckin’ sexy…”

Aaliyah adjusted herself to tilt her body against his so that Terry could put his hand down her leggings.

“Damn…it’s like that, baby?”

“Uh-huh…”

Terry’s hand cupped her fat pussy through her thong. Aaliyah clung to his shoulders while holding his gaze. Terry’s tongue—thick and pink—poked out and Aaliyah accepted the invitation of touching tongues with him. His fingers moved her panties to the side. He grunted into Aaliyah’s mouth.

“Damn…damn…”

His fingers rubbed up and down. Aaliyah spread her thighs further.

“There you go…nasty girl… spreading your legs like that…want me to touch all over this pussy…I like that…”

His words. She whimpered when his fingers started doing that up and down motion between her swollen labia and over her stiff clit. Aaliyah couldn’t believe how wet her pussy is. Creamy viscous spread all over her.

“Unh…Terry…”

“This what you think about? You think about me expressing how much I want you with my fingers in your pussy?…”

Two fingers sank deep. Aaliyah’s mouth dropped open. Terry’s brows furrowed and his eyes would flicker from her face to his hand moving up and down in her leggings.

“Aaliyah…this lil’ pussy tight, girl…I can’t believe I’m fingering you right now…”

He looked like he couldn’t believe it. Jade eyes intense.

“It’s s–s–so, wet…”

His words stuttered out in disbelief.

“My pussy like you just as much as I do, Professor…”

Aaliyah chewed on her bottom lip and her head lulled back. She started bouncing on his fingers. Damn, she missed this. She missed being fingered the proper way. She ain’t have dick in almost a year. The last man to have her was a mistake and not even worth mentioning. All she could focus on was keeping her legs spread and that pussy open.

“Good girl…you follow directions well…I like that,” Terry dragged his teeth along his bottom lip, “Look at me, Aaliyah…”

She did as she was told.

“I played your little game. Now what?”

He was toying with her.

This man…this was another side to him she was more than excited to see.

“Now you make me cum…make me cum, Professor.”

Terry chuckled, “Make this pussy cum?”

His fingers were knuckle deep.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry…”

“Mmm…that sweet, little voice gon’ get you in trouble…keep moaning…uh-huh…mhmmmm…”

Aaliyah clamped down on his fingers. She lowered her head over his headrest and rode out her orgasm. So intense. It hit her like a freight train. Terry pressed deeper, stroking a spot that had Aaliyah crying. Terry gently withdrew his fingers. Aaliyah’s breaths slowed down, but her body was still recovering from the after shocks.

His hand resurfaced just as the sun peered over the storm clouds. The aroma of her pussy and the cum clinging to his fingers flooded her nose in the best way. Terry held his manicured fingers up. Aaliyah locked her gaze on creamy–white goodness all over his fingers and dripping down to his wrist.

Terry played with it. Rubbing his fingertips together. Spreading his fingers to see how slimy it looked. Aaliyah watched him suck each finger while his eyes never left her face.

“I taste good?” Aaliyah asked with a smile.

“Fuckin’ amazing, baby…”

Terry licked his lips and Aaliyah leaned in to steal a kiss. They kissed for some time before Terry broke away. He released a growl of frustration.

“I gotta head back to campus…I have an exam for my next class…”

Aaliyah pecked his lips before climbing off his lap and into her seat. Terry had his lip pouted while fixing himself. Aaliyah giggled, her eyes dropping down to his neglected erection. He caught her watching, grabbing her wrist and sitting her hand over his bulge.

It…was…thick…

“It’s so big…”

Aaliyah explored, squeezing and stroking…Terry swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and closed his eyes for a second to gather himself. Aaliyah removed her hand and Terry looked over at her like he didn’t want her to stop. Ever. She didn’t want to go, but Terry needed to get back to Campus. The last thing she’d ever want to do is sabotage his career.

“I don’t want to leave, but it’s okay…I’ll see you Friday, right?” Terry questioned, grabbing Aaliyah’s hand and kissing the back of it over and over.

“Yes. I’ll be there…”

Terry made a come hither motion and Aaliyah obeyed, slipping him some final tongue before they parted ways. Terry put his glasses back on, giving Aaliyah one final look of longing. She knew she had to be the one to leave him behind because if she didn’t, he would have skipped the class and spent the rest of the day proving to her just how much he needed her.

“Bye, Professor.”

Aaliyah opened the car door. She hopped down from his truck, grabbing her jean jacket. She blew Terry a kiss before shutting his door and heading towards her Jeep.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her pussy on his tongue and her scent on his fingers while he lectured.

——

Aaliyah 🌹: Studying for an exam tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I had a really great time today 😏 just might touch myself thinking about it. Sweet Dreams, Professor. Xoxoxo 👄

Terry moved towards his living room, an NBA game on in the background. He was shirtless with black joggers on and a durag over his short curls. A single gold cross chain sat in the middle of his pecs. The heels of his socked feet sat into the throw rug beneath him. He had grilled salmon, broccoli, and dirty rice for dinner.

Aaliyah.

That woman awakened something primal in him. Although his eyes bounced back and forth across the screen, his mind wandered to the way his taste buds craved more pussy. He had such a good time getting to know her. The way her lips felt like the softest cushion against his lips. The soft, little whimpers she made drove him crazy. He dragged a hand down his face.

He studiously ignored the monster in his joggers.

Could’ve been full of something else if you had just taken what was in front of you.

The game did nothing to calm down his body. He flipped through the channels looking for something, anything to distract himself from the length of his dick pulsing against his thigh. Terry shifted his hips on the couch, the fight to ignore it impossible.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry.”

Terry could still hardly believe that he had Aaliyah in his lap, lips against hers, fingers deep in her pussy, and in public. The morbid excitement from earlier returned to him in tenfold, echoing in the throb of his manhood. He stared forward at the movements on his television unseeingly, fighting his mind as it tried to conjure up an image of himself between Aaliyah’s legs. Her pretty pussy gleaming at him naughtily making his mouth water. He wanted to be the only one to taste her for as long as he lived. To bury his face in between her buttery–smooth thighs to kiss, lick and tongue fuck her until she was a whimpering, quivering mess. His name a constant chant on her lips as she feebly tried to push him away after her orgasm. He wouldn’t stop. Not until all she wanted was him.

“Terry…Terry…right there, Terry…”

“Shit,” he grunted as he lifted his hips off the couch slightly, pulling his joggers down to his thighs, his engorged dick springing free, curving up to look at him. The purpling head waved in the air at him in greeting and invitation. Terry scrubbed a hand over his face at the sight, exasperated at his excitement for a girl he’d never seen naked and his inability to turn this shit off. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily to him if he didn’t take care of big boy first.

Terry’s eyes tracked a drop of precum as it dribbled over his head and down his pulsating shaft, collecting at his heavy balls. His dick was quite literally demanding attention, the veins overly pronoucned along the sides beating in time with his heart, and he was hard pressed not to give in. He hadn’t touched himself in a few days, work had kept him busy and the thoughts of Aaliyah after the bachelor party had given him a reason to. He quickly contemplated walking back to his room and using his fleshlight to get the job done before he decided against it. He was too needy to move now.

Tentative fingers ran over the velvety tip, collecting the beads of moisture there and spreading them around slowly. He closed his blue–gray eyes and pushed his head back into the sofa cushion with a flex of his hips. A harsh ‘fuck’ escaped his clenched teeth at the sensitivity. This was going to be quick, rough and lacking any of the finesse he usually showcased in any moment of sexual gratification. Even if that moment was just with him.

Terry’s dominant hand wrapped lightly around himself, trying to mimic how his Aaliyah would touch him, his other dragging over his exposed abdomen. His hand pulled down roughly, electing a low groan from him, as a fantasy bloomed in his mind. He could see her behind his lids that had fallen closed. Kneeling in front of him, between his parted thighs, bright eyes glued to his expression as she bit her lip in concentration. Watching him with that sassy look she got any time she wanted things her way.

Terry spread his knees as far as his joggers would allow, his hand twisting and pulling himself, gaining momentum with every tight pass of the head. Thumb coming up to swiped over the moist slit. Half curses spewed out of him as his pace quickens, his free hand coming down to fondle his sack. Rolling it between his fingers. The sensation doing nothing to abate his impending release.

“Fuccccckkk…..” his voice hitched and raised, battling with the enthusiastic wet sounds of his hand pumping.

His fantasy girl looked between him and his twitching dick, her hand moving as fast as he was. She licked her parted lips and leaned towards his thick pipe. Her warm breath only heightened his pleasure as she whispered to him lowly.

“Cum for me, Professor…”

And he did just that. His heels dug into the plush rug beneath him, using it for leverage as he fucked up into his hand, the coil in his belly growing tighter until it snapped. A croak of Aaliyah’s name bouncing off his walls. Thick spurts of warm cum landing haphazardly across his upper body didn’t deter him as he continued to drag his fist over his oozing dick until the motion became too much for his overly sensitive body. Legs shuddering with each pass.

Terry let go with a deep sigh, taut body relaxing slowly until he was sitting naturally in his seat. Terry glanced down at the evidence of his ecstasy littered across his chest, stomach and hand.

He huffed an annoyed laugh at how quickly his orgasm had taken him. And how hard his dick still was as it bobbed in front of him, his stamina was working against him this time around. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he gripped the base, pulling his hand with a slow rotation of his wrist upwards. His release making the perfect slick for round two.

“F–fuuck, babyyy…” Terry hissed at the feeling. He let go, palming the head a few seconds to stave off the mounting pressure. He would not come that quickly again.

Terry took his time, languidly pulling at his dick, unrushed. Rubbing his free hand up and down his stomach, tweaking his nipple quickly before sliding back down. He repeated this process as his hand gradually picked up speed.

The short nails on Terry’s left hand bit deliciously into his skin as he raked them down his chest and stomach. The sharp pain was closely followed by a wave of hazy pleasure causing his hips to buck faster into his hand. He abandoned all notion of slow, the tightening in his balls and urge to reach completion pushing fast and hard to the forefront of his mind. The juxtaposition of two intense sensations never failed to throw him over the edge.

Terry threw his head back, neck straining as he clenched his jaw. A constant string of yes, fuck, yes screaming in his head as his abdominal muscles flexed and clenched. His hand is almost a blur with how quickly he’s moving.

Twist

Grip

Plunge

Slap

Squeeze

Fucking Aaliyah did this to him. Those eyes, that smile, her voice, that goddamn body…

Flashes of her twerking in a split, making that ass clap, looking back at it, licking her lips with that tongue ring, talking her shit, how sweet her pussy tasted, how snug her walls were around his fingers.

He wished it was her. Her delicate hand working him. Her brown eyes drooping with arousal. Her heavenly voice encouraging him to go ahead. Let go. He could almost smell her. Almost taste her.

Her pussy was so fucking sweet. He couldn’t wait to suck on her pussy. He wanted to bury his nose into it and draw in a deep breath that almost burned his lungs. He wanted to make her unravel beneath his tortuous tongue and lips. Over and over and over—

He erupted at the thought, breathing hard and keening through his messy release. The second nut even more than the first. Still, he continued to stroke, torturing himself, milking himself like he wanted her to.

Terry was out of breath by the end of it. Body spent and tingling.

So much for not cumming quickly.

He sat there for a long time, waiting for the hollow feeling to retreat from his bones, his cum cooling on his skin. He needed to take another shower.

But what he really needed was her.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

#aaron pierre x black!oc #aaron pierre #rebel ridge #nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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oldsoul007 · 17 days ago

Text

Ultraviolence

dr. charlie mayhew x dr!reader

request: Hi, can I request for a Doc Charlie Mayhew x rival in med school days reader. They haven't seen each other in years then reader got into an accident and *surprise surprise* Charlie gets assigned to treat her. Some enemies to lovers kinda thing

warning: arguing, puking

Charlie Mayhew and I were both top students in our medical school, each driven by a fierce determination to become the best doctor. From the very first day, we found ourselves constantly competing, whether it was for the highest grades, the best clinical evaluations, or the most coveted internships. Our rivalry was well-known among our peers and even the professors, who often marveled at our relentless pursuit of excellence.

Despite our competitive nature, there was a mutual respect between Charlie and I. We pushed each other to new heights, each striving to outdo the other. Late-night study sessions in the library often turned into silent battles of endurance, and clinical rounds became arenas for showcasing our knowledge and skills.

Mine and Charlie’s argument had reached a boiling point. We were standing in the study lounge, faces flushed with anger, each unwilling to back down.

"Charlie, your method is reckless and could jeopardize everything we've worked for!" I shouted, my frustration evident.

"And your way is so safe it's boring, y/n! We need to take risks to make an impact!" Charlie retorted, his voice equally loud.

The tension between us was palpable. Neither was willing to consider the other's perspective, and our stubbornness only fueled the fire.

"You always think you know better than everyone else," I accused, my eyes narrowing.

"And you never take a chance, always playing it safe," Charlie shot back, his tone biting.

Our argument echoed through the study lounge, drawing the attention of our classmates. But Charlie and I were too wrapped up in our own battle to notice. The more we argued, the more entrenched we became in our positions.

Finally, I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Fine, do whatever you want, Charlie. But don't expect me to clean up your mess."

Charlie glared at me, his jaw set. "I don't need your approval, y/n. I'll prove you wrong."

With that, we stormed off in opposite directions, the argument unresolved and our rivalry more intense than ever.

I was in the middle of stitching up a patient's wound, my hands steady despite the exhaustion creeping in. The room was filled with the usual sounds of the ER—monitors beeping, hushed conversations, the occasional shout for assistance. I could feel someone's eyes on me, and it didn't take long to figure out who it was. Charlie.

I glanced up briefly and, sure enough, there he was, staring at me from across the room. His gaze was intense, almost scrutinizing. It felt like he was waiting for me to make a mistake, to prove some unspoken point. Annoyance bubbled up inside me. I didn't need this right now, not after the night we'd had.

Without missing a beat, I shot him a sharp, rude look. It was a silent message: back off. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't look away. I could feel the tension between us, thick and palpable, but I forced myself to focus back on my patient. I didn't have time for Charlie's games

After a grueling night at the hospital, the group of medical school students decided to unwind at our favorite local bar. The dim lighting and the hum of conversations provided a stark contrast to the sterile, high-pressure environment we had just left. Me and Charlie, both exhausted yet wired from the adrenaline, found ourselves at opposite ends of the bar.

As the night wore on, tensions that had been simmering beneath the surface started to bubble up. Charlie, feeling the weight of a particularly difficult case, made a snide remark about me handling of a patient. Me, already on edge, snapped back, my voice cutting through the chatter. Our friends tried to diffuse the situation, but the stress of their demanding schedules and the alcohol only fueled the fire.

"You know, y/n, I really don't understand how you handled that patient today. It was almost like you were trying to make things harder for everyone."

My eyes narrowed, the tension immediately palpable. "Excuse me? At least I didn't stand around second-guessing every decision like you did. Maybe if you spent less time criticizing and more time actually helping, we'd get things done faster."

Our friends exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the brewing storm. Charlie leaned in, his voice low but sharp. "Maybe if you weren't so stubborn and actually listened to someone else's fucking opinion for once, things wouldn't get so chaotic."

My face flushed with anger. "You’re an asshole, You think you're the only one who knows anything? Your arrogance is infuriating, Charlie. Just because you have an opinion doesn't mean it's always right."

The argument escalated quickly, with both me and Charlie hurling accusations and frustrations at each other. It wasn't just about the patient anymore; it was about the long hours, the constant pressure, and the unspoken competition between us. The altercation drew the attention of the entire bar, but neither seemed to care as they vented months of pent-up stress.

I sat at my desk, textbooks and notes scattered around me. I had been studying for hours, but the material just wasn't sticking. The test was looming, and I felt the pressure mounting. With a deep sigh, she realized she needed help. The last person I wanted to ask was Charlie, but I didn't have much choice.

Reluctantly, I picked up my phone and sent Charlie a message. "Hey, I need some help with the study material. Can you spare some time?"

Charlie responded quickly. "What will you give me if I do” moments later another message comes through. “Sure, I can help. When do you want to meet?"

We agreed to meet at the library later that afternoon. I felt a mix of relief and frustration. I didn't like admitting I needed help, especially from Charlie, but I knew it was necessary.

When we met, Charlie was surprisingly patient and thorough. He explained the concepts clearly, breaking down the material in a way that made sense to me. Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself grateful for his help.

"Thanks, Charlie," I said at the end of our session. "I really appreciate it."

Charlie smiled. "No problem, y/n. We all need a little help sometimes."

As we packed up our things, I couldn't help but feel a bit more confident about the upcoming test. Maybe working with Charlie wasn't so bad after all.

Years later, I found myself in a hospital room, my head throbbing from the accident I’d just been in. I couldn't believe my luck when the doctor walked in and it was Charlie. Of course, it had to be him.

Charlie looked just as surprised to see me. "Y/n," he sighed, his tone professional but his eyes betraying a hint of the old tension between us. "What happened?"

"Car accident," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I guess you're my doctor."

"Looks like it," Charlie said, glancing at my chart. "Let's get you checked out."

The examination was awkward, the air thick with unspoken words. Charlie was thorough and professional, but I could sense the tension in his every move. I couldn't help but remember our heated arguments and the unresolved feelings that still lingered between us.

"You're going to be fine," Charlie finally said, stepping back. "Just a few bruises and a mild concussion. You'll need to rest for a few days."

"Thanks," I muttered, not meeting his eyes.

Charlie hesitated for a moment, then added, "If you need anything, let me know. I'll be around."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and frustration. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was relieved that Charlie was there, even if it meant facing the unresolved tension between us.

Charlie walked into the room, clipboard in hand, ready to do his job. "Alright, y/n, let's get this last check-up done," he said, his tone neutral.

I barely looked at him, my irritation clear. "Just get it over with," I muttered, crossing my arms.

Charlie sighed, trying to keep his cool. "I need you to cooperate, y/n. This is for your own good."

I rolled my eyes, clearly annoyed. "Yeah, whatever. Just do what you have to."

Charlie started the examination, but my attitude was getting under his skin. "You know, a little bit of cooperation would make this easier for both of us."

"Maybe if you weren't so insufferable, I wouldn't be so annoyed," I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Charlie clenched his jaw, trying to stay professional. "I'm just trying to help you. Could you at least try to meet me halfway?"

My eyes flashed with anger. "I don't need your help, Charlie. Just finish the check-up."

Charlie finally snapped. "Fine. But for the record, your attitude isn't helping anyone. I'm just doing my job."

I felt a pang of guilt but quickly pushed it aside. "Whatever."

The rest of the check-up was done in tense silence, both of them stubbornly ignoring the underlying feelings that neither wanted to acknowledge.

Charlie couldn't hold back his frustration any longer. "Y/n, just exactly what were you thinking? You could've been seriously hurt!" he snapped, his voice rising.

I glared at him, my own anger flaring up. "It wasn’t my fault! And why do you even care so much, Charlie? It's not like it matters to you!"

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to calm himself but failing. "Of course it matters! You think I want to see you like this? You need to be more careful."

My eyes softened for a moment as I saw the genuine concern in his eyes. "Why does it matter to you, Charlie? Why do you care so much?"

He hesitated, the words hanging in the air between us. "Because... because I still care about you, y/n. I never stopped."

I felt a lump in my throat. Despite all the tension and unresolved feelings, there was something undeniable between us. "Charlie, I..."

He shook his head, cutting me off. "Just promise me you'll be more careful. I don't want to see you hurt again."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of emotions. "I promise."

As Charlie turned to leave, the unspoken words and lingering feelings between us seemed to fill the room, leaving both of us wondering what might happen next.

The years had softened some of our rough edges, and the intense rivalry that once defined our relationship had faded into a mutual respect.

The silence between us was comfortable, a stark contrast to our earlier years of constant bickering. As I sat in my hospital bed with charlie sitting next to it keeping me company, memories of our past interactions resurfaced, and we couldn't help but laugh at how far we had come.

Charlie broke the silence first. "You know, I used to watch you work and wonder how you managed to stay so focused. It drove me crazy," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I always thought you were just waiting for me to mess up. I guess I never realized you were actually... impressed."

We exchanged a look, and in that moment, it all clicked. The tension, the arguments, the stolen glances—it had all been fueled by something deeper. We had been too stubborn to see it back then, but now, it was undeniable. We had feelings for each other all along.

"Alright, y/n," Charlie began, trying to maintain his professional demeanor. "Let's go over a few things before you leave. First, you'll need to keep an eye on your—"

"—vital signs, particularly any changes in heart rate or blood pressure," I interjected, finishing his sentence with a knowing smirk.

Charlie sighed but continued. "Yes, exactly. And make sure you take your—"

"—pain medication as prescribed, but be mindful of any side effects like dizziness or nausea," I added, my tone light but confident.

He shot me a look, trying to hide his frustration. "Right. Also, you should avoid any strenuous activities for the next—"

"—48 hours, and gradually ease back into your normal routine," I said, my eyes twinkling with amusement.

Charlie couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "You know, it's really hard to be the doctor here when you keep finishing my sentences."

I grinned. "Sorry, force of habit. But thanks for taking care of me, Charlie."

He smiled back, the tension easing. "Anytime. Just try not to make a habit of ending up on the patient side of things, okay?"

"Deal," she replied, her smile widening. And with that, the unspoken bond between them grew just a little bit stronger.

I walked back into the hospital, my heart racing a bit faster than usual. I had told myself I was just coming back to grab something I forgot, but deep down, I knew the real reason. I wanted to see Charlie again.

As I made my way through the familiar hallways, I spotted him at the nurses' station, engrossed in some paperwork. Taking a deep breath, I approached him, trying to appear casual.

"Hey, Charlie," I said, my voice steady. "I think I left my, uh, sweater in my the hospital room."

Charlie looked up, a smile spreading across his face when he saw me. "Y/n, hey! I can help you look."

We walked together to the room , chatting about our day. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach, but I tried to keep my cool. As we reached the room, she pretended to search for my sweater.

"Found it!" I exclaimed, holding up the sweater I had actually had all along.

Charlie laughed. "You know, you could have just said you wanted to see me."

I blushed, but I smiled back. "Yeah, I guess I could have."

We stood there for a moment, the air filled with unspoken words. Finally, Charlie broke the silence. "Well, I'm glad you came back. It's always nice to see you, y/n."

I felt my heart swell. "Same here, Charlie. Same here."

Charlie took a step closer, his eyes locking with mine. The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently cupping my face in his hands. My breath hitched, my heart racing as I realized what was about to happen.

And then, he kissed me. It wasn't tentative or hesitant; it was passionate and full of years of pent-up feelings. The world outside the break room faded away, leaving just the two of them in that moment. I melted into the kiss, my hands finding our way to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. Charlie smiled softly, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," he whispered.

I laughed lightly, my eyes sparkling. "Me too," I admitted. And just like that, the years of unresolved tension and hidden feelings began to unravel, leading us toward a new chapter together.

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celandeline · 1 year ago

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in your head, on your mind // Jordan Li x Reader, Part 1

i know i haven't posted in like a year, and this is a huge shift from my usual writing, but i cannot express how jordan li has captured my heart and soul. this is definitely going to be a good number of parts, and will also definitely have some smut in there.

word count: 1912

previous part // next part

The Lamplighter School of Crimefighting is your home away from home on the GodU campus. Being Professor Caldwin’s TA is almost a full-time job, and in addition to classes and training and homework, most days you are in Caldwin’s office more than your own dorm room. Not that you mind, really. It’s the sort of job that will really set you up later in life - Caldwin knows everyone - and anything is better than listening to your roommate try and go viral on TikTok for the 30,000th time. And Caldwin’s a nice guy, in his own way.

“L/N.” The gruff call from his actual office resounds over the little foyer your desk sits in.

Scooting back from your seat, you get up and walk the few steps between your desk and the doorway, hovering at the frame. “Professor?”

Caldwin sits at his own desk - a big, antique wooden thing that’s probably older than anything else in this building - hunched over in front of a desktop computer that’s far too sleek looking for the desk it sits on. Frustration radiates out from him like rays of the sun. Stupid fucking computer… swear they make these things difficult for people my age on purpose… snippets of his thoughts play in your mind without prompting - your superpower passively picking up his most prominent feelings. Of course, if you wanted, you could really focus and read his mind fully (even talk to him telepathically), but that was a boundary you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t cross. He is your professor - and boss - after all.

Peering over the top of his glasses, Caldwin blinks at you, gathering a stack of papers to his left. “Bring these over to Brink, will you? If he’s busy you can just leave them with his TA, it’s nothing classified.”

You step into his Caldwin’s office fully, and take the stack of papers from him. It’s a hefty thing, so you tuck it under your arm. “Will do.”

“And while you’re out and about, get me another cup of coffee from the staff room. Two sugars-”

“Two sugars, two pumps of hazelnut, one splash of cream.” You say, already heading out the door. You’ve had his coffee order down since he hired you at the beginning of your sophomore year. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thank you.” Gonna take a hammer to this stupid fucking-

His thoughts cut off abruptly as you walk out of range, heading into the halls of the Crimefighting building. Students fill the space, coming and going from classes, sitting in the chairs near the floor to ceiling windows busy on their laptops, loitering around as they chat with their friends. You purposefully focus on your own goal - Brink’s office, and then the staff break room to make Caldwin another coffee - to force the cacophony of thoughts down. The audible chatter, in addition to the telepathic noise, would have been enough to make you scream a few years ago, but classes at GodU have lived up to your expectations - they’re hard, but worth it, to get your power under control.

Brink’s office is across the building from Caldwin’s, a more luxurious room with lots of natural light and a good view of the campus green. You’d only really ever been in there on Caldwin’s instructions - Brink had only been your professor once, your freshman year, and you’d been too scared of his reputation to actually go to his office hours. Still, it was easy to find, and when you tried the door, it was open.

The foyer of Brink’s office is much larger than the space in Caldwin’s and you find yourself a little jealous - it would be nice to sit at a desk here. You look first to the doors leading into his actual office, and find them closed. You turn to the figure sitting at the desk, and ask, “Is Brink busy right now? I have papers from Caldwin for him.”

The girl at the desk - pretty, with stark black hair that just reached her jaw and big brown doe eyes - just stares at you for a moment before responding. “Yeah, he’s on a call, actually.” Her voice is smooth, a little deep, and not what you expected at all.

“Oh, alright, I can just-” You start, only to be interrupted by a wave of lust.

Goddamn. Smash. The things I wouldn’t do to get between those legs… wow. Those legs. How have I not run into YOU before? I mean really, surely I would have noticed the hottest person alive on campus - especially here, in my goddamn department. Fuck.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that. You balk. “Um. Sorry. Yeah, it’s not anything classified so Caldwin said I could just leave it with you,” You untuck the stack from under your arm and pass it towards Brink’s TA. Her fingers brush over yours as she takes it, and for a split second, you can feel just how much you were affecting her - the wave of horniness hit you like a bus. The feeling lingers as you take your hand away, and you’re unable to tell if it’s leftover from her or your own reaction. Maybe a bit of both.

She sets the papers down on her desk beside her without looking, too busy smiling at you. “I’m Jordan, by the way.” She says. “I take it your Caldwin’s TA?”

“Yeah.” You say. “Y/N.”

Y/N. That’s a nice name. Very screamable.

You fight the urge to do anything but smile. Just looking at her, you would have never guessed such wanton thoughts would come from such a tiny girl, but never judge a book by its cover, right?

“Nice to meet you Jordan.” You continue, careful to keep your voice steady, even. Casual. Not like you can hear every piece of want cross her mind.

I bet you’d sound good screaming my name. I need to stop - I don’t even know you. I need to get laid, my god. Down tremendous and I JUST learned your name.

The image of you and Jordan together - tangled up in unfamiliar bedsheets, Jordan’s mouth latched onto your neck as you moaned in pleasure - crosses Jordan’s mind, and yours by extent. For, as she said, having just met you, it was a surprisingly good imaginary version of yourself. Though, she is looking right at you. It would be hard to get any details wrong when you were standing right there.

Would you let me? Maybe if I was in the other form-

Before you had time to wonder what that meant, she’s changing before your eyes, rearranging skin and bone until an entirely different person is sitting at the desk. A man - taller, broader, but just as pretty and with the same big brown eyes. Your surprise must have shown on your face, because Jordan laughs, a smile stretching across their face.

“Sorry.” They say, leaning forward to rest their elbows against the desk. “It’s just that I have two faces, so I didn’t want you to get confused if some random dude was waving at you cause I forgot you only met me as a girl.”

“That’s a pretty cool power.” You say, and then, with your mind, “And a pretty good reason to show it off. I mean, for something you came up with on the fly anyway.”

You watch their eyes widen as they realize that you’re in their head, and then their cheeks flush red as they remember what they were thinking about not moments before. “So you’ve just been hearing-?”

“Yeah.” You say..

“I am so sorry-” They start, shifting back into their female form.

“No, it’s okay.” You say, a laugh on the edge of your lips. “I promise it’s fine, I mean, you didn’t know I was listening in and it’s your thoughts you can’t like, help it. And it’s not the first time-”

I bet, looking like that. Fuck. Pretend I didn’t think that. I’m sorry. Jordan buries their head in their hands with a groan. “Sorry.”

You let out a full laugh at that. “It’s okay, I promise. Please don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s fine. It’s flattering, if anything. I mean, you’re pretty good looking yourself. Not that you’re only hot, I mean - I’m sure you’re nice too.” You pause. “That came out a little wrong.”

Jordan smiles. “It’s okay. I mean, you basically get a free pass to do whatever you want to be since I’ve been…” They trail off. In their mind, …objectifying you. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me anyway, but… fuck. Sorry.

You smile again. “It’s okay. Promise.” You lean forward across the desk a little, getting closer without getting too close - you have just met after all. The smell of smokey cologne fills your nose, and causes more butterflies to swirl in your stomach. They really are hot. “You wanna know a secret?”

Jordan leans in too. “Sure.”

“Most guys, when they figure out that I can hear them lusting after me, aren't even apologetic.” You say. “So it’s sweet that you are. Charming, even.” It’s true - which is why you don’t usually bother playing into people’s lustful thoughts, but Jordan…

Okay. Okay, it’s not a big deal, it’s fine. “Would you want to hang out?” Jordan says, a little rushed, like they’d been waiting for an opportunity. “Sometime? We could train, or something…” Please say yes. You don’t have to say yes. I really want you to though.

You think about it for a moment. You don't usually say yes to these kinds of questions, especially after hearing the person's ulterior motives, but… Jordan seems nice, nice enough to genuinely feel bad about their thoughts once they realized you could hear them. And they are hot, objectively, in both forms.

“Yeah, I’d be down to hang out.” You say, reaching into the pocket of your jeans to pull out your phone. “Can I-?”

“Yes. Yeah.” Jordan pulls their own phone out clumsily, handing it to you.

You put your number in with a smile, and take the liberty to add a little emoji heart at the end of your name before you hand it back to them. “Should I text you, or are you going to text me?”

I don’t think I could stop myself if I tried. “I’ll text you.” Jordan says, glancing down at their phone. “A heart?”

“You don’t think so?”

No, no. No it’s great, I'm never going to change it. “A little fast, no?” They say.

You smile, and inject your voice into their head. Liar. I’ll see you later Jordan.

Before they can say anything else, you turn and leave, throwing one last glance at them over your shoulder. They don’t even try to pretend that they aren’t staring.

Butterflies swarm your stomach as you make your way back through the halls. You can’t remember the last time being in someone’s head made you like them more rather than less, but Jordan… sweet, apologetic Jordan. It’s exciting, in a way, knowing what they were thinking about you, and knowing that despite the fact that you know, they still want to hang out. You check your phone, even though it’s not even been a minute since you left. Sure enough, a text-

what are you doing tmrw from like 2-4

You type out your reply: hanging out w u probably

You almost forget to get Caldwin’s coffee on the way back.

#gen v #jordan li #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #the boys #derek luh #london thor

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tomriddleslove · 9 months ago

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The Black Lake, a shared blunt, and realisations.

✩Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Mattheo has had enough. Everyone and everything seems to be agitating him, and he feels as though he can’t catch a break. Then you come along. Alternatively: You may just be his saving grace, hidden in plain sight.

Slight? Angst but mainly fluff

A/N: I get all my fic ideas when listening to music so bear with me when I say there’s a very certain vibe to this and you have to know the song to understand it.

Songs: Tek it - Cafuné

The clock strikes noon, and Mattheo couldn’t be more than relieved to finally leave the stuffy clasroom. Tossing his bag over his shoulder, he swiftly makes his way out of the classroom, ignoring the agitated glares of the other students he had so rudely shoved past.

Now Mattheo wishes he could say he wasn’t this rude that often. He didn’t really go out of his way to fight people per se, but it just so happened to be that he was quite confrontational and rather good at resolving things with his fists. However these past few days he had been more on edge than usual, snapping at almost everyone for reasons that were far beyond him.

Everything seemed to agitate him immensely, from the way lessons seemed to drag on, to his deskmates who all seemed to have a penchant for being the most agitating, infuriating people possible.

I mean, seriously? What could compel a person to chomp down on a beef sandwich in the middle of class at 10 in the morning? The professor may not have noticed but Mattheo most certainly did, having to spend the last hour with a raging headache trying to ignore the obnoxious chewing sounds and the revolting smell of beef.

He all but almost cries as he collapses down onto the sofa in the common room, grateful for the fact that everyone else seemed to have lessons currently. He closes his eyes for a millisecond, letting out a small sigh of frustration.

He feels the sofa dip beside him and that same frustration returns. He opens his eyes, ready to snap at whatever poor person had decided to sit next to him, but his gaze immediately softens when he realises it was you.

“Oh,” He murmurs, and a lazy grin tugs at your lips as you look over at him, raising a brow.

It’s remarkable just how quickly his mood seems to lighten when he sees you.

“Oh?” You repeat, amused.

“Mhmm. Just not in the mood for it recently and thought you were Belby or some other git. I was ready to hex you.” He murmurs, and you roll your eyes in mock admonishment as you reach for your book, leaning back into the sofa as you thumb through the pages.

“Charming, Riddle. Really, I feel flattered.” You say sarcastically, and the corners of Mattheo's mouth quirk upwards.

You and Mattheo were part of the same extended friend group. You weren’t the closest with him, yet you weren’t absolute strangers. You didn’t talk that much to one another, but got along surprisingly well. Mattheo was one of the only people (bar Blaise) who could match your wit and dry humour, and you were one of the few (if not only) people who didn't seem to annoy him.

You pay him no mind as you read your book, and with any other person, Mattheo would have been largely grateful for that. But for some bizarre reason, he wants you to speak to him.

He glances over at you for a second, admiring the way the gentle glow from the fireplace illuminates your face as you read.

How oblivious could one get?

You break the silence, peering down at your book as you speak.

“Do you have a double free period?”

Mattheo hums, looking over at you. He wants you to look up at him so badly, and he can’t tell why. It seemed as though he’d need a slap in the face to make him realise why he craved so much attention from you.

He shifts on the sofa, trying to appear nonchalant as he replies, "Yeah, luckily. No classes for the rest of the day. What about you?"

You glance up from your book, meeting his gaze with a faint smile. "Same here. Wanna come walk around with me?” You ask, and Mattheo nods, albeit a bit confused as to why you’d want to wander around in such cold weather aimlessly.

You reach into your robe pocket, producing a neatly rolled joint with a cheeky wag of your eyebrows. A grin spreads across Mattheo's face as he looks at you, and he raises a brow in mock disappointment.

“Am I seeing correctly, or has the academic prodigy of Hogwarts just suggested we use our valuable study time to get high?”Mattheo taunts, and you scoff, getting up.

“Piss off, Riddle. Are you coming or not?” You retort, glancing back at him.

He looks up at you, and his gaze lingers far too long on the way your eyes light up, your mouth forming a gentle curve as you smile at him and-

Oh god, Mattheo never really stood a chance, did he?

He nods, getting up as he grabs his robe and follows you. You both meander aimlessly through the empty corridors of Hogwarts, poking fun at the unfortunate students who still had lessons. As you walk past a classroom you catch a glimpse of Theodore, chin resting atop his palm as he sleepily gazes at the board. You snicker, nudging Mattheo as you both hide at the side of the doorway, peering into the class. Mattheo wraps an arm around your waist, moving you behind him and you ignore the way you reel at his touch, dazed for a second.

It doesn’t last long, however, for you're drawn out of your short-lived crisis when you spot Mattheo pulling his wand out from his pocket, discreetly pointing it in Theodore’s direction. It was rather astounding seeing how no other students in the class noticed you, but Professor Binn had a rather uncanny knack for getting people to fall into a zombie-like state of fatigue whenever they were in his class. You were convinced it had to be some sort of superpower.

With a short flick of his wand, Theodore's eyes widened as he yelped, hand shooting up to clasp over his upper arm.

As Theodore's yelp echoes through the classroom, everyone snaps out of their daze, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the disturbance. Theodore grimaces, sheepishly looking down as he tries to play it off. Unable to contain your laughter anymore, you snort, and the sound has everyone turning to look outside the classroom.

Mattheo grabs your hand, pulling you along as the two of you run down the corridor, laughter bubbling up from deep within you.

As you round a corner, out of sight from the classroom, you finally come to a stop, breathless from both the running and the laughter. Mattheo leans against the wall, trying to catch his breath as he looks at you with sparkling eyes.

It was amazing how he had gone from being so irate to so…. Carefree. He felt alive with you, like he could forget about the countless burdens that weighed down on him day in and day out.

“That was bloody brilliant,” You wheeze, clutching your ribs as you laugh. Mattheo grins, panting as he nods.

“Theodore’s hilarious. Can’t wait to hear him complain about that later on,” He muses and you snort, straightening up. You jerk your head to the side, motioning for him to join you as you slip out of the castle onto the school grounds. You leisurely walk down the fields, heading towards the Black Lake.

You stop at a large cluster of rocks near the surface of the water, plopping down on the slightly damp grass. Mattheo joins you, long legs stretched out in front of him as you fish around your pocket. His arm presses against yours and you’re immediately warmed by the heat coming off his body, trying to ignore the intoxicating aroma of his cologne filling your senses.

You hit Mattheo's thigh with your hand, nudging him to get the lighter as you place the blunt between your lips. He obliges, cupping his hand around the flame as you lean down to light the tip, taking a few drags. You pass it over to Mattheo, tilting your head back as you exhale with a sigh. Mattheo mimics your actions, letting out a low groan as he passes the blunt back to you.

“Shit, this is fucking good.” He murmurs, eyes flickering over to you as you take another drag.

You speak, blunt dangling between those perfect lips of yours that Mattheo can’t seem to tear his eyes off of.

“Should be,” You muse, handing it over to Matteho as he takes another long drag. “I sucked dick for it.” You comment offhandedly and Mattheo splutters, coughing as he smacks his fist against his chest, looking over at you in disbelief. You look at him with a lazy grin, a hint of amusement in your eyes.

“Relax, of course I didn’t. But with the price it came at I may as well have.” You murmur, shaking your head.

“So ladylike” He teases and you roll your eyes for what must be the umpteenth time, slapping his thigh as you snatch the blunt back.

You remain silent for a while, and it's oddly comforting. Just you and Mattheo, passing the blunt back and forth between one another as you overlook the black lake. The setting sun is reflected in the ripple of the water, golden rays dancing along the small waves that give the illusion of the lake being made of pure gold.

Mattheo leans back on his elbows, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the crisp air. You're reclined beside him, the gentle lapping of the water providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

"So, Riddle, what's been bothering you lately?" you ask casually, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Mattheo hesitates for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon as he considers his response. He's never been one to open up easily, but there's something about the softness in your voice that makes him want to confide in you.

"Just...everything, I guess," he admits finally, his tone uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I feel like I'm constantly on edge, and I'm not sure why.”

Your gaze remains on the lake, a pensive expression on your face as you hum.

“I get it. I suppose for all their goodwill it's a bit hard for the boys to understand that.” You murmur and Mattheo chuckles, looking down at the long strands of grass he was fiddling with.

“Tell me about it”

You remain silent for a second longer, before turning to face Mattheo. He looks up at you and feels as though he's pinned down under your gaze. It’s as though you were dissecting his very being, staring at him with a calculating look before you speak once again, your voice low and soft.

“You don’t always have to be a hardhead. You don’t need to dismiss how you’re feeling. We aren’t meant to have this figured out yet. We’re still young, with so much to learn. What’s the point of life if we know it all now?”

Mattheo listens to your words, feeling as though you've peered straight into his soul and laid bare all his insecurities. There's a wisdom in your words that resonates deeply with him. It's as though you possess a wisdom beyond your years, a rare insight that he finds both intimidating and captivating.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

That god-forsaken smile appears on your face again, and you look over at Mattheo.

“Don’t. Someone has to tell you this, right? I love Nott to bits but I doubt he has anything but quidditch on his mind.” You joke, and Mattheo laughs.

You seamlessly lighten the mood, and Mattheo is eternally grateful for that. Really, he’s grateful for you. He can't think of the last time he's laughed so much. Or felt so free. Perhaps it was the weed, that had lowered his inhibitions and relieved him of his stresses.

But no, it was a drug far worse than that. He had just gotten a taste of it and he knew he would be hooked on it. It came in the form of you, and gods was it dangerous.

There's a heavy silence between the two of you, broken by the sound of rustling as Mattheo sits up abruptly, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hey, wanna go closer to the edge of the lake? I think I saw something cool over there," he suggests, his tone playful as he nudges you with his elbow.

"What, are you trying to pull some sort of prank on me, Riddle?" You ask, your tone sceptical as you raise an eyebrow.

Mattheo feigns innocence, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Who, me? Never," he replies with a smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Despite your reservations, you can't help but be intrigued by Mattheo's suggestion, and with a shrug, you agree to accompany him to the water's edge.

You walk a few steps to the surface of the black lake, peering down at your own reflection for a second. You turn to Mattheo, caught off guard when he gives you a playful shove.

You yelp, reaching out instinctively to grab onto Mattheo as you lose your balance. Instead of regaining your footing, you find yourself slipping on the dampened grass near the edge of the lake and falling backwards into the water with Mattheo.

The icy cold water seems to seep into your body, eradicating any hint of warmth. You resurface with a gasp, brushing your wet hair away from your face as you tread water, your robe floating around you in the water.

Mattheo resurfaces moments after you, his curly brown hair now plastered against his forehead, droplets of water glistening in the fading light. He blinks the water from his eyes and looks at you with a playful grin.

“Why did you do that!” He gasps, though his tone is lighthearted and playful.

You roll your eyes, splashing him in retaliation. “You practically threw me in there! I just needed to find my footing!” You retort, indignified.

Mattheo chuckles, the sound echoing across the stillness of the lake. “Fair point.” He concedes.

Not a second later, however, he splashes you with water, somehow drenching you even further.

“Mattheo!” You gasp, sending a wave of water back at him. The two of you playfully fight in the water, and you laugh, head tilted back. It's a scene straight out of a childhood fantasy, the cares and worries of the world melting away beneath the warm glow of the setting sun.

Mattheo pauses, and his heart pounds against his sternum as he hears your laugh. It’s loud and it's unabashed, and it's the most perfect thing ever. You smile, and he feels as though he can't breathe, you had to have stolen his breath.

The golden rays of the sun illuminate your skin, catching in the droplets of water that cling to the wet tendrils of your hair. You looked like an image out of a Renaissance painting, and Mattheo is sure the sun must hide itself in shame, for on its brightest day it couldn’t compete with your radiance.

He takes in the way the fading sunlight casts a warm glow on your features, highlighting the curve of your cheekbones and the sparkle in your eyes. He’s sure the image must be etched into his mind, permanently engraved. He knows when he closes his eyes, all he will see is the image of you, and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

In fact, he welcomes it.

In your presence, he feels alive in a way he never has before. He will wake up tomorrow and face all the trials and tribulations the universe has to throw at him. For now, however, the sun is shining. The water is cold, but you make him feel warmer. The gentle sound of water sloshing about fills the silence, the horizon is beautiful.

Everything was alright.

@mildlyuninformative @chgrch @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @schaebickel @lillywildly @multifandom-worlds

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader comfort #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fluff

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morbific-or-felicific · 2 years ago

Text

-AGNOSTHESIA Featuring Scaramouche

Part 2 Part 3

Meaning: The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behaviour, as if you were some other person

Word Count: 3.5k~

Description: A study session with Scaramouche gets spicy

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

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“Are you deaf or just stupid? I’ve been explaining this to you for over an hour. How do you not understand?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! This class is just really hard, and I haven’t really been able to understand anything from the last few lectures. It's all just gotten so complicated.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be your major? Why did you pick something challenging if you’re too stupid to understand any of it?”

“I’m not too stupid! It’s just a challenging class!”

“Why did you beg me to tutor you if you were just going to waste my time?”

You didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong, nearly every study session the two of you have had ended with an incredibly frustrated Scaramouche and an equally confused you. It’s not that you weren’t trying. You paid attention the best that you could in lectures, and you did all the readings. You even used up most of your free time studying! But regardless, you were still hopeless.

Of course, having Scaramouche as a tutor was supposed to make things easier; he was at the top of the class, after all. However, it almost made things more difficult, given the fact that during your study sessions you were constantly getting distracted by how pretty the man was and how close the two of you were to your bed. You probably enjoyed the insults he threw at you due to your lack of understanding just a bit too much too. But no way would you ever admit to that.

~♡~

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. It was 1:45pm. Your class started at 1:00pm. This was not good. You burst through the doors, immediately drawing everyone's attention and making your professor stop mid sentence. You were mortified. On this particular occasion, you had spent all night studying before dragging yourself to your school's library to continue studying. You had planned to spend your morning studying before your lecture at 1:00pm. You had not planned to fall asleep until 1:25pm and have to run to a whole other building to get to your lecture. You had been spending all your time trying to keep up with your peers in your astrobiology course, but it appears that plan had backfired, as you had already missed half of your class and would need to beg someone for their notes, perhaps an explanation as well. You looked around for a seat, quickly realizing that the only easily accessible spot was near the back next to Scaramouche. Fuck. Scaramouche was the best student in the class, but he was also notoriously unapproachable and impossible to work with. You had been stuck doing a group project with him before, and he had been a controlling nightmare. Ever since then though, he had occasionally spoken to you if you came close enough to insult. You took a deep breath, swallowed your fear, and started up the stairs. The class had continued on in the moments since your interruption, so you didn’t expect Scaramouche to be staring directly at you when you glanced at him on your way to your spot beside him. You looked away and got to your seat as quickly as you could.

“Well, if it isn’t the smartest girl in class.”

You fought the urge to insult him back, but you knew that if you wanted to get any help from him, you couldn’t risk giving him a reason not to help you. You gave him the nicest smile you could muster; he rolled his eyes at your attempt to be nice. You sat down next to him and set up your computer to take notes for the rest of class. After another half hour had passed and you were hopelessly confused, you turned to Scaramouche to ask him for some help.

“Hey, uh, I’m pretty lost; do you think you could give me the notes you took for the first half of the class?”

“Do you really think that’ll help you? It’s not like you even understand the lectures you don’t miss.”

“I understand them!”

“Yeah, sure.”

He turned his attention back to the professor. That’s when you had an idea that might actually work.

“Hey, do you have any spare time that you could maybe use to help me with the work from this class?"

“Do you really think that I would willingly spend my free time tutoring you? Why on earth would I do that?”

You took a deep breath, silently praying that this would work.

“If you agree to tutor me, I’ll give you Kazuha’s number.”

“You’ll what?”

Yes! He was interested.

“I’ll give you Kazuha’s number, and I’ll put in a good word for you with him.”

“Kazuha? As in Kaedehara? Are you serious?”

He was just staring at you, looking very serious. Clearly, this was important to him.

“Yes, I promise.”

Scaramouche chuckled to himself a little before sighing.

“Okay. Text me where your dorm is. I’ll tutor you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays.”

“I uh…don’t have your number.”

“You don’t? I have yours.”

“Yeah that’s because I gave it to you. Just text me and I’ll send you my building and room number, okay?”

“Fine.”

You sighed. Why did he have to be gay?

A few moments later, you got a text that said, “Hey loser”. You sent him your dorm information and a list of what times on those days you were free. And just like that, you had a tutor.

When you eventually talked to Kazuha about Scaramouche and how you had given him his number, Kazuha seemed confused, but after an oddly long stare behind you and a glance at his phone, he seemed to understand what you were trying to tell him.

~♡~

“Are you really this stupid? Or do you just like it when I insult you?”

“I’m not stupid! And don’t pretend like you aren’t getting anything out of this!”

“Right, I get to have you meddling in my love life. How could I forget?”

“You agreed to this! I didn’t make you do anything!”

“No, you just gave me an opportunity to spend time with the person I have feelings for, but only if I spend all my free time trying to teach an idiot her major.”

“I’m not an idiot! Stop saying that!”

“You can’t expect me to sit here and watch you screw things up I didn’t think anyone could possibly screw up and not insult you. You’re practically begging for it.”

You huffed a frustrated sigh and went back to your work while your tutor sat there on his phone. How was all of this so easy for him when you could barely understand any of it? You were working so hard but had nothing to show for it except for low grades and a tutor who is the furthest thing from being into you, who also somehow kept getting you all worked up and needy. Part of you wanted to just tell him to stop coming over so you could get through a study session without getting sexually frustrated. However, you also didn’t want to stop spending time with him…because, uh, because Scaramouche was helping you improve! Not for any other reason. Oh nevermind, who were you trying to fool? You definitely had feelings for him, even though you knew they would never be reciprocated. It wasn’t long before you reached another question that stumped you.

“I’m confused.”

“What else is new?”

“Shut up. Can you help me?”

He stared at you and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something. You sighed.

“Please?”

“What’s the question?”

“What is a carbonaceous chondrite?”

“Have you been paying any attention in class? At all?”

“I-”

Scaramouche cut you off.

“Even if you aren’t paying attention in class, you have my notes, and you’ve been asking me endless questions. Wait, I forgot. You’re just an idiot.”

“I’m not an-!”

Once again, he cut you off.

“No, you are. At this point, I’m not even trying to insult you. It’s just a fact.”

“Why?! What did I do that was so dumb?!”

“Do you really want to know?”

“...Yes?”

“Do you remember how you convinced me to be your tutor? Of course you do. You gave me Kazuha’s number. Do you want to know why he was so confused when you told him that? Because I’ve known him since I was a kid; we’re best friends. He only went along with it because I had followed you and was a ways behind you trying to get him to check his messages because I had to send him a text explaining that the girl I have feelings for thinks I’m gay and in love with him, and since he knows how dumb you are, he went along with it for my sake. I honestly thought that you would have figured it out by how nice I’ve been to you ever since we did that project together.”

You couldn’t believe it. Scaramouche has a crush on you, maybe even for as long as you’d had a crush on him. And oh my god you were stupid; he was best friends with Kazuha? How had you missed that?! Oh god, that means Kazuha knew you were stupid too…how did you even make such a big mistake?

“You…like me…? And you’re best friends with Kazuha…? What do you mean you’ve been nice to me ever since our project? You insult me all the time! Even before you started tutoring me, you were mean to me!”

“I talked to you. As far as I’m concerned, that’s nice enough. Anyway, I guess I should be going now huh?”

“Wait uh, you don’t have to go.”

“Oh? Maybe you do like it when I insult you, hm?”

“That isn’t important. I just need you to stay because you promised to tutor me, and I still need help.”

That gave Scaramouche an idea.

“Huh, maybe you just need better motivation to learn…”

He smirked at you before standing up from his spot on your bed and closing the little distance there was from where he had been sitting and where you were seated at your desk. He turned your spinny chair to face him and leaned down so his face was in front of yours and flicked your forehead.

“Hey, dummy, want me to fuck you?”

He laughed quietly at your slack jawed reaction. He stood back to his full height and sat back down on your bed. He gestured for you to come sit on his lap. You stared at him blankly, confident that you had misinterpreted his action.

“Come on now. You’re not really this stupid, are you?”

That was enough confirmation for you. You stood up from your chair and were about to sit down on his lap when he stopped you.

“Take off your clothes.”

He didn’t exactly leave any room for argument, so, as embarrassed as you were, you started taking off your clothes while Scaramouche watched you. You got down to your underwear and stopped, unsure if he wanted you to continue.

“Go on.”

Okay then. You took off your bra and your underwear, now feeling awkward with your tutor sitting in front of you fully clothed. He motioned you forward again and you sat down on his lap. He moved a hand between your legs and ran a finger down your slit before laughing.

“You’re so wet already, I guess you liked those insults more than you let on.”

His comment somehow turned your face redder than it already was. You would have made some kind of argument, however, you suddenly became preoccupied with the feeling of him pushing two of his fingers inside of you and fucking you with them. You couldn’t help but let out a few moans at the feeling. He snickered at the sounds you were making, even going so far as to mock the sound of your moans.

“‘Mmf ah oh fuck mmm haah,’ you sound so pathetic.”

You tried to quiet the sounds you were making, but that only made him more upset.

“Don’t stop. I like hearing you whining like a bitch in heat.”

He pulled his fingers out of you then pushed them past your lips and into your mouth. While you cleaned off his fingers like a good little slut, he used his other hand to undo his pants and pull out his cock. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and lined you up over his cock before bringing you down onto it. You heard him suck in a breath and let out a chuckle.

“Hah, shit, you feel good.”

You could only let out a whine in response. He bottomed out inside of you. After you took a few moments to adjust, you tried to lift yourself up, but found you couldn’t move an inch with the tight grip your tutor had on your hips.

“Wha…?”

“You said that you needed me to stay to tutor you, so, I’m here to tutor you.”

Was he seriously going to try to tutor you while he had you sitting on his cock? No, this couldn’t actually be happening.

“But…but I can’t…”

“You will. I’m just giving you some extra motivation.”

He smirked at you once again.

“What role do supernovae play in the origin, evolution, and development of life?”

You couldn’t think. You were far too preoccupied with the feeling of his cock deep inside of you.

“I don’t… I don’t know, I can’t…”

“Come on, you answered this correctly last week.”

Had you? Part of you thought he was lying to you just to make you feel stupider.

“I don’t know it…”

Your response came out as a whine.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!”

One of his hands moved away from your waist. For a moment you wondered what he was doing, but then you felt a hard slap come down on your ass.

“Ahh! What…? Why did you?”

“You need some consequence for your stupidity.”

You tried to clear your head for the next question.

“Why is it more likely that we will find prokaryotes rather than eukaryotes when we finally explore Europa, Enceladus, or Mars?”

“I don’t know Scara-”

Suddenly you felt a sharp pain in your cheek. Did he slap you?

“I don’t want my name in the mouth of a worthless slut like you.”

He paused for a second.

“Did you just get tighter? You really are slut.”

You blushed and looked away from him. You didn’t want to admit it, but you really were enjoying yourself. However, the fact that your tutor still wasn’t fucking you was driving you insane. You prayed that soon enough he would get bored tormenting you and finally fuck you.

“Instead of calling me by my name, why don’t you just call me master, hmm?”

“Okay…”

“Okay what?”

“Okay master…”

“Aw, so the slut can be good! Well, since you’re so stupid, I’ll give you an easy question next. What substances are emitted from cryovolcanoes?”

Oh thank god, you actually knew this one.

“Water, ice, ammonia, nitrogen, and methane…right?”

He just watched you for a moment with a little smile while doubt started to build in your mind.

“That’s correct. But it really was such an easy question, maybe I should continue teaching you…”

“Please Sca- master…”

“Oh? What are you asking for?”

“I want you to fuck me…please…”

He watched you for a few moments, contemplating his decision.

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Beg, and I’ll fuck you. I won’t ask again.”

There was no way you were going to beg Scaramouche to fuck you. That would be humiliating. But if it would get him to fuck you…no. You weren’t that desperate for him, were you? However, all of your reasoning flew out the window when Scaramouche lifted you up his cock and dropped you back down.

“Fuck please master, fuck me, I need it so bad, need to feel you wreck me, want you to use me however you want, please!”

“However I want, hmm?”

Before you could reply, he had lifted you off of his cock and moved you so you were on your hands and knees. He got up from his spot and knelt behind you.

“But master I wanna- mmf!”

Your tutor pushed your head into the pillows.

“Stupid little sluts don’t get to touch me or watch me fuck them.”

With that, he pushed his cock back into you. God, why did he feel so big? He’s short, so why does it feel like he’s in your fucking throat from this angle?

“And arch your fucking back, whore.”

You did as he asked, and all you got in response was him letting out a little laugh. He started fucking you slow but deep, and you couldn’t help the moans that were escaping your lips, but thankfully, they were muffled by the pillows, so he could barely hear them. Fuck, this felt so good. The fact that he tortured you before getting here didn’t even matter anymore, as long as he could make you feel like this.

Before too long, you could feel an orgasm approaching, and though you tried to let him know, the pillows obstructing your mouth caused your warning to come out as, “mhmhfm hm hmhm hmm!” and your tutor continued to ignore you. Eventually however, you felt yourself start to tip over the edge. You really did try to tell Scaramouche, but he just wouldn’t listen. He was far too wrapped up in the feeling of fucking you. When you finally tipped over the edge, Scaramouche stopped moving entirely, effectively giving you a very shitty orgasm. He grabbed your hair and hauled you up to him so he could talk to you without pillows getting in the way.

“Did you just fucking cum without asking, princess?”

His voice was sickeningly sweet, and you were terrified of what would come next. He twisted the hair he had grabbed making you cry out.

“Hmmm how should I punish you? Dumb sluts like getting spanked, don’t they?”

You shook your head the best you could with how he had your hair.

“Aw, of course they do.”

He pushed your face back into the pillows and let go of your hair. There was a moment of silence as you waited for what would come next. You felt a sharp pain as his hand came down on your ass. Was he this strong before? You were confident that there would be a red handprint on your ass now. He landed another smack, causing you to emit a little yelp. He continued your punishment until you were shaking and crying. Finally, he decided he was done and wrapped a hand around your throat before once again hauling you upright. He moved his lips next to your ear.

“Don’t try to act like you didn’t like that. I could feel how tight you were.”

You blushed, but before you could respond to him, he started fucking you again, this time hard and fast. Fuck, how did he feel even deeper in you now? He reached a hand around to play with your clit. Fuck, were you going to cum a second time?

“Can I cum? Please, need to so bad.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Instead of stopping like you had expected, he kept fucking you, and within a few seconds, he had you seeing stars. He kept going this time, fucking you through your orgasm. However, he didn’t stop when you were done. He kept going, looking to reach his own end.

“Do you want master to fill you up with his cum? Hmm? Is that what you want?”

“Fuck, yes please, please!”

Scaramouche leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“No.”

“What?”

Suddenly, he let go of you before pushing you back down and flipping you over before finishing on your stomach. Fuck, you were glad you got to see that at least.

“Worthless little whores don’t deserve to be filled with my cum.”

After he said that, some switch seemed to flip in his brain, and he got up to go search for a cloth to clean you up with. He returned and sat next to you on the bed, wiping the cum off of your stomach.

“Are you okay…?”

You were amazed. He looked like a concerned puppy. Was this really the same guy that was telling you how worthless you were a second ago?

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright.”

You stared back at him. But after your confirmation, he seemed to go back to his usual self.

“So uh, does this mean anything…?”

“What?”

“I understand if it doesn’t. It’s okay, I get it. I was just-”

He flicked your forehead.

“Did u miss the part where I told you I have feelings for you? Why would this mean nothing? God, you really are stupid.”

Yep, definitely back to his usual self.

“Wait, so does that mean you wanna like, date?”

He let out a big sigh.

“I suppose I’m willing to have an idiot for a girlfriend.”

“Fine, then I’m willing to have an asshole for a boyfriend!”

He rolled his eyes at you and let out a little laugh before laying down in bed next to you. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you had your head resting on Scaramouche’s chest, and before too long, you had fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @yourlocal-bunny @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga

morbific-or-felicific.

#mae’s daily paper☕️*•̊ⴰ✧#scaramouche.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ #mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧#this took a surprising amount of time to write the first half of but the second half was so fast so that was good #also i think the scaramouche x kazuha thing was really funny but im also an idiot so #longest fic yet babyyyyyyy #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin smut #genshin x you #afab reader #female reader

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writeslikeanaria · 1 year ago

Text

i’ve seen the devil in every face

ominis gaunt x reader (technically sebastian sallow x reader)

summary: your boyfriend lives with the demons of never being able to see what you look like. that's when he figures out a way to finally be able to look at you; by wearing the face of his best friend.

word count: 5k+

warnings: SMUT, consent is tricky but i'll just stick with dubious, immoral use of the polyjuice potion, angst, confused reader, m!oral, p in v, opportunity for an incredibly angst filled part two

Potions class seemed to be longer than normal. Having finished your potion earlier than everyone else, your only task now was to finish theory book work, a task that genuinely pained you to complete. Books strewn open, you rested your head against the desk, eyes closed, trying to find will within you to actually dip your quill in the ink that rested next to you.

With your vision gone, you used your imagination to picture the chaos happening around you. A cracking pop sounded off in the room, followed by a stench of rotten fish. Fizzing arose in the room, making your skin prick up from the feeling of electricity. From behind your eyes, you could see a bright white light flash, and a groan from your upset classmate followed suit.

For a moment, you realised that this was reality for your blind boyfriend, Ominis, only able to use his other senses to imagine the world. A brief sadness crept over you, leaving a whimper to come out of your mouth, something that was noticed by your potions partner next to you, Sebastian.

“You alright?” He glanced over at you, cocking an eyebrow, quill hovering in the air.

You opened one eye, adjusting to the bright overhead candle that filled your vision in a flood of white. Sebastian looked down at you, some sort of concern on his face, chewing on the end of his quill. You groaned. “Just peachy…” You paused. “Just thinking.”

Sebastian scoffed. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

Lifting your head slightly, you look across the potion classroom, until your eyes land on the innocent target, blissfully unaware of your stalking eyes. Ominis, busy hunched over a potions book, was reading some words out to his partner, Leander. He seemed frustrated though, eyebrows furrowed deeply, as he kept rubbing his milky white eyes out of pure exhaustion.

From just what you could witness, you knew how annoyed your boyfriend was getting by the ginger’s antics. You had heard many times about how “utterly useless and incorrigible” Leander was, through Ominis’ midnight rantings. Laying in bed, head on his heaving chest, you listened to his stream of consciousness. You pouted at the sight of his anger.

“Ominis doesn’t look happy today.”

Rolling his eyes, Sebastian turned back to his book. “When is he ever when he's in potions class? Poor thing has to deal with Leander for two hours twice a week, I’m surprised he hasn’t ripped all his hair out of head. Pure misery, that’s him.” Sebastian bit his lip, a thought entering his head. “And it doesn’t help that he’s been unusually stroppy the last couple of days.”

You peered at Sebastian, narrowing your eyes, confused. You had barely had time to see your boyfriend in the past couple of days, so you hadn’t noticed any foul behaviour. “What do you me–”

Unfortunately, your question remained unanswered, as the shrill voice of Professor Sharp rang off across the classroom, scolding none other than Garreth Weasley. His face was so close to Garreth’s that they were almost touching. “How dare you not follow my instructions? Detention all next week. Now, clean this up and complete your actual task for homework.”

You snickered, burying your head in your arms, unable to hide away the humour in the situation. Making eye contact with the boy in trouble, he shrugged his shoulders at you. Although Professor Sharp had just told him to discard his potion, you watched as Garreth blatantly discarded those instructions, instead pouring the potion he was working on into a separate flask, before collecting his books back up.

The bell rang, signalling the end of class, but you stayed rooted to your seat as you watched Garreth with intrigue, suddenly fascinated with what he was up to. As everyone filed out of class, you opted to corner your ginger friend, closing in on his defeated stature. His face was sallow, but he still kept a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Backing away your bag, you vaguely registered Sebastian trying to talk to you, but you brushed him off, flaying your hand in the air, dismissively. As much as you loved your best friend, you currently didn’t have time for his questions.

Sliding on over to Garreth’s station, you pick up one of his scrawled notebooks, cheekily. “A little birdie told me you got told off again.”

Garreth jumped slightly at your appearance. “Well, then someone should do something about that gossip of a bird.” He lunged towards the book you were holding. “And we give that back!”

There was no point keeping it anyway, unable to read what covered the pages anyway. Garreth’s handwriting was like chicken scratch. Handing him back his book, you laughed at him, before eyeing the suspicious potion peeking out of his satchel bag. “What’s that?”

“Nothing interesting.” Garreth closed the lid on his bag, keeping the mystery out of sight. You frowned, not usually having to deal with Garreth’s secrecy. Normally, he lets you into his devious plans.

Sighing, you began slowly walking away. “Oh, but it would be such a shame if Professor Sharp found out that you kept some of the potion he told you to discard–”

“Alright!” Garreth stopped you. “It really isn’t anything interesting, I promise, but if you’re still curious, meet me in the abandoned potions classroom on the second floor at midnight. Don’t be late.”

You grinned. You weren’t planning on it.

•┈୨♡୧┈•

When midnight finally came, you were more than excited for your nighttime escape. Cladded in a woollen jumper and tough shoes, you quietly crept down the staircases into the darkness of your common room. As you were about to slink through the door, a voice stopped you in your tracks, calling your name.

“Is that you?”

You immediately recognised the confused tone in your boyfriend’s voice, and a soft chuckle slipped from your mouth. Embarrassed, you covered your reddening face. “Hello darling, I didn’t see you sitting in the dark.”

Ominis pouted. “I didn’t realise a lamp wasn’t on. I was just doing some reading. Have you come to join me?”

“I would love to, truly, but I had other plans for tonight.” You bit your lip in thought. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

A loud groan escaped from Ominis, as he landed his heavy head in his lap. “Can’t sleep, too busy… thinking.”

You moved towards your troubled boyfriend, placing your hand around his. “A penny for your thoughts? I’ve noticed you’ve been… antsy recently, and I can’t help but feel like I'm doing anything for you.” You placed a gentle kiss on his temple. “What’s going on?”

Ominis cringed. “I don’t know how to speak about this; it’s too difficult to even word. And I don’t want to think you did anything wrong–”

“Wait, what?”

“–You’ve been nothing but amazing with everything. You’ve been doting, and kind, and thoughtful, and the time I spend with you, just you, is more cherishable than any worldly possession.”

“Then what’s wrong?” You pressed.

“I–” Ominis sighed. “Everytime we are intimate, I get sad.”

That definitely wasn’t what you were expecting Ominis to say. You retracted your hands for him, unsure if it was out of shock or mild disgust towards what he had said. Never in a million years had you expected your boyfriend, your loving, passionate boyfriend, to admit that love making with you had a melancholic effect on his psyche. Your face contorted with defiance, but you didn’t know how to fight this battle.

You pursed your lips. “Do I disgust you?”

In a flash of seconds, you could see every stage of grief flash over Ominis’ milky eyes, as he reached back towards your hands with comfort. You always relished in the warmth he would give you.

“That’s not what I meant at all.” Ominis started. “I just meant that I feel as though my loss of sight is hindering my experience. Obviously, it’s not, but I can’t help but feel like I’m missing out on seeing you, my beauty, my radiance, the light of my life. Sometimes I wonder how I can feel whole if I can’t even see my other half. Every single time I hear someone compliment your appearance, I just wish I could see you. Everytime you’re under me, I just wish I could see you. Do you understand?”

You didn’t know if you did, but you nodded carefully, stroking small circles on the backs of Ominis’ mole-covered hands, in an attempt to find comfort for him. What you did understand was how difficult this must’ve been to tell you, and you couldn’t be happier that he was actually communicating with you. Leaning into him, you smiled. “Would you like to talk more about this in the morning?”

Ominis smiled. “Sure.”

“Would you like to accompany me to the abandoned potions classroom on the second floor?”

Ominis screwed his face up in confusion. “Why on earth would you want to go to that musty place at this time of night?”

You giggled. “Garreth seems to be working on a secret potion, and I’m curious to see what he’s up to.”

It didn’t take long to convince your stubborn boyfriend, as in a matter of minutes, you were slinking hand in hand, under a disillusionment spell, across the deserted halls of Hogwarts at night. It was a peaceful adventure, one that really helped calm you both down after the intensity of your previous conversation.

Unfortunately, the words Ominis had spoken still lingered in your mind like cigarette smoke. You couldn’t help but ponder what he had said, as if you were the problem. You knew that Ominis would never place blame on you, but you wish you had noticed sooner.

Every time you crawled into bed together, a mess of teeth and tongue, flesh and slick, you should’ve noticed the abundance of tension seeping out of his muscles, or the way he would hold back from touching you, from being close to you. There were so many signs that you were embarrassed that you hadn’t caught on to any of them. Were you a bad person?

Those thoughts were soon pushed out of your conscious mind when you arrived at your discreet destination. Creeping open the door, you were welcomed by the most vile stench you had every smell, bile rising in your throat as you coughed violently.

“What the hell are you making in here?” You spluttered, unable to think properly from the fumes. Luckily you had your boyfriend holding you arms, stopping you from falling over.

Garreth’s lifted his head up as he noticed you walk in, a giant grin stretched across his cheeks. “Ah, you finally came, and you brought a guest. The more the merrier, they say.” He welcomed you in, clapping his hands against your back. “You’re just in time for the main event.”

You could still hardly breathe from the vileness secreting into your sinuses. “Please make this worth it. I cannot begin to describe how putrid this room smells. I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up in the hospital room because of this.”

“You’ve got it easy.” Garreth laughed. “I have to drink this.” With fascination plastered on your face, you watched as the ginger placed the last ingredient into a small volume of the potion, and swirled it around his flask. You watched as the liquid changed colours very slightly.

Finally, Ominous asked the million dollar question. “What actually is that?”

With one gulp, Garreth drank the entire flask, pouring it down his throat with ease, but reacting to the taste like hot lava. After every last drop was swallowed, he finally gave an answer to the question. “Polyjuice potion. Tastes disgusting, but the results are fascinating. That last ingredient I added in? Those were human hairs, belonging to Professor Sharp. In just a few moments you’ll see what I mean by fascinating results, because the polyjuice potions changes your appearance to make you look like someone else.”

He wasn’t lying. Within short moments, Garreth had grown several inches, became thinner, more wrinklier, with his usual flaming locks transforming into dark brown hair. It was exhilarating to watch your best friend become a whole different person.

You spoke first. “Garreth?”

Your friend rubbed his eyes, no longer focussing on you two. Instead, he squinted in frustration. “Ugh, Professor Sharp’s eyesight sucks; It’s so blurry. This man cannot see shit.”

Laughing at those comments, you dismissed them right away, but your boyfriend seemed intrigued by what Garreth was saying, still rubbing his eyes out of annoyance. “What do you mean? Are you trying to tell me that you’ve adopted the same eyesight as Sharp?”

“Yeah, and it’s awful.” Garreth laughed. Walking over to a deserted closet in the classroom, Garreth grabbed out a bunch of clothes that bore a striking resemblance to the ones that Professor Sharp would normally wear, but you took no interest in Garreth’s immature plans. You believed fully that Garreth’s next plans would include terrorising a bunch of year two’s who were still awake at this time of night. What interested you the most was the quizzical look on Ominis’ face.

“What are you thinking?”

Ominous grunted. “Be quiet, I have a plan.”

For the next few minutes, you made careless conversation with your friend, who explained to you the extent of his plan for the next hour, which included, but was not limited to, sneaking into the teacher’s quarters, stealing all their sweets, and trying his luck at the restricted section. With adrenaline, Garreth’s bumbling attitude had him out the door within minutes, leaving you and Ominis alone in the classroom. Alone with the remnants of the polyjuice potion.

Your boyfriend struck first, heading towards the still full potion. You tried to stop him, but with no luck. “Ominis, what do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing? I found a solution to our problems. One mouthful of that disgusting potion and I’ll be able to see your beautiful face, in all your glory. I have no care to worry about the temporary, but I’ll be able to finally see my shining star, my angel. You don’t realise how hard it is to go about my life, wishing I could see your eyes, and your smile, and your hair, and your beautiful lips. I need to do this.”

“And then what?” You questioned his frantic plan. “We share intimacy? You may be sharing intimacy with me, but I’ll have to stare at the face of someone who isn’t mine. I’ll have to live with the guilt of knowing another man who isn’t you.”

“But it is me!” Ominis raised his voice at you. “I am me, emotionally, spiritually, consciously. All you will have to know is the physicalities of another man.” His voice settled, calming down a bit. “I understand your point of you, and all I have to counter it is, for me? I know I cannot force you, but I know I can plead with you, even if you shut me down before I can even present my case.”

You bit your lip in anguish. “How sure are you? I need to know you are completely comfortable with this. This would be the strangest thing we’ve ever shared between us, and I need to know that this is exactly what you want.”

“I want this.” Ominis sighed, cupping your face with his hands. “Finally, I want to know you with all my senses.” He placed a kiss against your lips. “I need to know what love at first sight feels like to a man.”

You returned the kiss with fervour. “I will. I will for you. I love you Ominis.” Resting your head on his shoulder, another question popped into your mind.”

“Ominis.” He hummed in response. “Who are you going to choose to, you know, turn into?”

“Don’t worry. I have someone in mind.”

•┈୨♡୧┈•

Sebastian looked like he was about to doze off at the breakfast table, eye bags dark, head lost between the pages of some tatted book that he probably found illegally in the library. His brown locks were a mess atop his head and he had taken no notice of you and Ominis standing in the entrance of the hall, watching him from a distance.

“Sebastian.” You asked incredulously. “Really?”

Ominis scoffed, brushing you off. “He’s the only choice really. He’s the only person I trust you to know physically, since he is my best friend. I’ve also heard that he’s quite handsome, so I don’t know why you’re objecting.”

“I- It’s Sebastian! He would never agree to that.”

“He wouldn’t have to know.” Ominis smirked. “Now be a good girl and help me distract him so we can get a few hairs off of the top of his head, okay?”

And that’s how you found yourself sitting abnormally close to Sebastian, basically breathing down his neck, trying to get him to lean down just a bit more, but it proved to be a more difficult task than you initially thought.

“No, I don’t see the runes at the bottom of the page.” Sebastian squinted once more at the page in front of him, but refused to move his head downwards like you needed him to. You were about to give up when an idea struck, noticing a strange fold in the page. Just as Sebastian moved the book slightly, you pointed downwards.

“Did something just fall out of the book?”

Sebastian ducked immediately. “Where?” His voice went gruff as he finally looked closely at the bottom of the book, giving Ominis an ample opportunity to gently pluck a few hairs off of the top of Sebastian’s head, without the poor boy even noticing. When Ominis gave a nod, you knew that he had gotten what he needed.

You tutted. “Nevermind, it’s just a fold in the page.” You rested your head in your hand and sighed dramatically. “I thought I saw something.”

“It’s alright.” Sebastian muttered. “It’s no use anyway. I’m so tired, I just want to go to bed right now.”

“Early night?” You joked, but then saw Ominis shaking his head at you. Right, you guys would need the dorm room tonight, for activities. “You could– uh, sleep in the undercroft! Surely sleeping in a room without Ominis’ incessant snoring is exactly what you need tonight.

“What I need is a beater’s club to my head,” Sebastian smirked. “But a night alone sounds great as well.”

•┈୨♡୧┈•

It was almost time. Saying goodbye to Sebastian and sending him on his way was easy enough. With enough encouragement, he was gone before the sun had even fallen asleep beneath the hills, leaving the entire dormitory to you and your boyfriend, whose eyes had not stopped glinting with mischief all day.

The entire day had been a mixture of teasing touches, and whispers of dirty promises. You could still feel the feeling of Ominis’ hands creeping up your skirt in class, tracing your delicate thighs with the traction of a feather. The hot breath of his words still melted against your ears like an ice cold glass of water, and you were so thirsty.

But first, Ominis had to drink the potion.

“I really hope it’s not as awful as Garreth said it was.” You said, eying the murky brown liquid. “But by the smell of the classroom last night, I don’t think it’s going to taste like liquid gold either. Promise you’ll drink some water afterwards?”

Ominis sniffed the flask suspiciously. “It may taste, and smell, differently after adding the hairs, but I doubt so, unfortunately. I wonder if my taste buds will even survive this torture.”

“Well, for my sake,” You pointed downwards, towards your woman region,“and for my girl’s sake, I hope your taste buds come out the other side of this stronger than ever.”

The innuendo was not lost on your boyfriend, who now eagerly added the final remaining ingredient to the flask. Like last time, the colour faded slightly, into more of a mellow mud colour. Bringing the potion up to his nose, Ominous took a sniff, but didn’t recoil.

“Well?”

Ominis hummed. “Isn’t as bad as I expected. Almost woodsy. Like tree bark, or forest leaves. Doesn’t carry the same putridness as the one from last night. I’d even say this one is somewhat pleasant.” He dipped his finger in the potion. “It feels warm. Like a cup of tea. It’s odd.”

You egged him on. “Are you gonna drink it?”

“Patience.” Ominis laughed, but he followed through with your queries, throwing his head back and swallowing the potion in one.

The effects started showing immediately. The white blouse that Ominis was wearing became too small for his torso, looking like it was about to burst at the seams, as his muscles filled out, and his shoulders broadened like the parting of a sea. Shrinking only half an inch, he now sat at Sebastian’s height, now growing into those features. Gone were those chiselled cheeks, replaced with the smattering of freckles across his face. Hair turned from gold to bronze, and eyes from the ocean to the earth.

“How do I look?” Sebastian– Ominis asked, voice now replaced with the slightly Scottish tenor of his best mate’s, turning towards you.

It was all so confusing. There stood your best friend, but with the mannerisms and posture of your boyfriends. Your body was conflicted too, as you couldn’t help but look at the physicality of your best friend in a new light.

Ominis seemed to be going through his own internal conflict. When he first took the potion he really had no idea if he was going to notice any change with his sight, but when it became bright, too bright, he knew that his hypothesis had been true. It was strange at first, adjusting to a whole new sense. His brain was confused, angry almost, trying to force him back down into a headache, but he persisted.

The world seemed strange. Finally, he knew what it meant to see colour, to see light, and to see beauty. He thought the bed was beautiful. He thought the floor was beautiful. He thought the walls around him were beautiful, but most importantly, the woman in front of him was more than beautiful.

Like an iridescent angel fallen from the heavens above, she was perfect to him. Beautiful didn’t even cover the beginning of what he thought about his girlfriend. Unable to articulate verbally, he stood motionless, as the angel before him tried to capture his attention away from his admiration.

“Ominis, are you okay? Did it work?” You asked cautiously, worried about what emotions he could possibly be feeling if the answer was no, but the way he was actually facing you, actually looking at you, you were sure that you knew the answer.

Ominis took a breath. “I understand what beautiful is.” He took one step towards you, reaching outwards, but your body didn’t naturally move towards him, still hesitant about yearning for Sebastian’s face and Sebastian’s physique. It wasn’t quite right.

It didn’t feel quite right as his lips touched yours, moving naturally, but feeling like a stranger. You melted like you normally did, but it was with effort, still getting used to the scent of Sebastian wafting into your veins. Reciprocating Ominis’ love filled kiss was more difficult than you would’ve ever thought. You hated how you felt.

“I need you.” Ominis muttered, his voice silky like Sebastian’s. “I need to see what you look like when you’re pleased. I need to know what pleasure looks like dressed on you. I need to see you contort yourself like a good girl. I need you.”

How could you deny such pleads? Nodding along to the words he spoke, you started on the buttons of your blouse, but were soon swatted from your task, your hands quickly replaced by Sebas– Ominis’ hand. It didn’t feel right watching Sebastian undress you, so you closed your eyes, resting against the unusually broad chest in front of you.

If Ominis noticed your internal conflict, he didn’t mention it, having the time of his life running his hands down the curves of your soft body, melting at the images he now didn’t have to visualise himself. Reaching down, he placed open mouthed kisses against your throat, eliciting moans from your throat.

He was marking you, you knew that. The mouth of your best friend was claiming you as a lover, and you enjoyed it, finding pleasure in the heat of the moment, pooling in your panties shamefully. Something about what Ominis was capable of made you fall from your grace and become nothing but a dog in heat. Wrapping your arms around his frame, you pulled him in closer, under you could hear his voice against the shell of your ear. “Get on your knees.”

You knew it was your Ominis, but you hesitated at Sebastian's voice. Obeying anyway, suck downwards, opening up for what was expected. Except, it wasn’t the familiar cock of your boyfriend. It was different from usual, slightly thicker, shorter, with unfamiliar veins running up the length.

“Suck it.” Ominis’ domineering personality crept out, and you obeyed. It was odd at first, but you got used to this new weight. At first, you placed a gentle kiss at the tip of his cock, watching the precum leak out in generous blobs. Your tongue darted out, lapping greedily at what you were given. Even the taste was different, slightly saltier, slightly muskier. Slicking up the entirety of his cock, you coated it generously, before opening your mouth wider to take more.

With enthusiasm, you took him all, pumping what was remaining with your left hand, and leaving your right hand to rest against his thigh, that twitched with every harsh sucked. His skin, covered in goosebumps, was on fire, the electricity of the moment throbbing in his cock. Ominis wasn’t going to last long, and you knew it.

Still, you threw your head forward, swallowing the tip, feeling him stutter with your movements. Hands threaded in your hair, tugging on your roots, getting a good grip on your head. Ominis had obviously had enough of your teasing, and decided to use you as he needed. It wasn’t long before until you felt his breathing change and his voice falter.

“I’m gonna–”

Cum. It splurted down your throats, in thick ropes you had never experienced before. It was all too much as you lurched away from the cock, more cum landing across your cheeks and necks. Looking up through glazed eyes and thick eyelashes, you watched Sebastian above you, peering down at you curious.

Nimble fingers stroked your face, moving around the sticky liquid, making even more of a mess as his face lit up in delight. You hated the way your body clenched at the thought of Sebastian taking you, needing that spent cock inside of you as soon as possible. You whimpered.

“Please…”

“Please what?” Ominis asked, tugging on his spent cock, slowly hardening again in the palm of his hand. You ducked your head embarrassed.

“Please fuck me.”

You were surprised he didn’t make you beg, as he lifted you up with an ease he’d never experience. Manhandling you onto the nearest bed, he pressed your chest down on the mattress, and flipped up your skirt. You didn’t even have any time to voice your confusion before the thick cock slid into your slick folds, forcing a moan out of you immediately.

Reaching for the blankets to have something, anything, to ground yourself with, you took the hammering like a champion. The immediate pace was frenzied, with no warming up on your part at all. You felt more alive than ever, alert as his deft hands curled around your wrists, holding them together as leverage to get a better angle.

You were drooling on the blankets. The angle was perfectly hitting your g-spot with every rough thrust, the material of the duvet rubbing against your swollen, patient clit, in desperate need of some attention. Every nerve on your body was screaming in pleasure and pain, completely conflicted with every emotion that struck your heart. At least you didn’t have to look into the eyes of your best friend.

Finally, Ominis let go of one of your hands, snaking around your front so he could begin his assault on your clit. His voice was gruff in your ear. “I need you to come for me baby.”

You nodded pathetically, eyes rolling back as every thrust inside of you became more agitated than the last. Tears were free falling from your face now. In the midst of your pleasure, you didn’t even notice the door to the dormitories open, until you heard the voice of…

“What?!”

Turning your head, you couldn’t help let a pained sob out of your throat as you laid eyes with another Sebastian, the Sebastian. In an instance, there was no longer a body pressing down on you, letting you sink down onto the ground. You barely registered that sound of an angry spell being cast across the dorm room, followed by the patting of footsteps both across the dorm, towards the door, and towards you.

You knew it was the real Sebastian still left in the room as you felt a blanket cover your half naked form, keeping your modesty. You knew it was the real Sebastian as when you fell into his shoulder, unable to keep in the tears, he hesitated before placing a comforting hand against your bare shoulder. You knew it was the real Sebastian as he asked you repeatedly what was going on.

You knew he saw himself, fucking you like it was a matter of life and death, a reflection of a reality that his brain couldn’t comprehend.

You, on the other hand, had no thoughts left, falling unconscious on the shoulder of your best friend, with your boyfriend having run away in shame.

“i've seen the devil,

down sunset,

in every place,

in every face.”

–––

ouch angst. owie.

taglist: @slootmagix, @pretendthisusernameisgoodd, @froggyinaspen, @bxrabbito, @1800-madisonnn

#ominis gaunt smut #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #fanfic #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x you #angst

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 11 months ago

Note

Office Hours/Bells is lowkey becoming one of my comfort fics, I love the lore and that they come from a kind of friendship that makes the whole fucked-up-ness of their situation less apparent xd Is there any chance you're considering writing another part? 👀

Also, your writing style is very impressive to me, I love how you go into detail when describing Y/n's feelings and thoughts and I like your vocabulary :3

Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 3)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10 329

Warnings: SMUT (public/car sex, fingering, masturbation, overstimulation, p in v, spanking, cunnilingus, dry humping, thigh humping, slight bimbofication), Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student

Summary: Life had gone back to normal for Y/n now, back at uni and free to live, but she stayed with Jonathan. Then Jonathan starts getting needy and one thing leads to another.

A/N: I had no intentions of writing another part to this but I had to after this ask, thank you so much for sending me this anon 💚 I love hearing from you lot and I really appreciate it :) I'm glad to write someones comfort fic, it means the world to me.

I made Jonathan not only a horny bastard, but also a teasing bastard cause he's an asshat.

I also brought Edward back cause Y/n needs friends! I hope you enjoy 💚

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Y/n’s life seemed to have seamlessly returned to its familiar rhythm. University occupied her days and she was granted her freedom to leave whenever she wished. Returning to university proved surprisingly seamless. Explaining her abrupt absence required minimal effort, considering the shitty environment of Gotham. In a city with its own set of pressing concerns, the university showed little interest in the temporary disappearance of a single student. Some of her peers questioned her abrupt absence, but she told them it was family matters which made them drop the topic immediately. Her once-close friends, though accepting her explanation, gradually drifted away due to the lack of communication. She understood their perspective, yet the tethering force of circumstance made rekindling those connections a challenge. Nonetheless, in her newfound relationship with Jonathan, those fading ties held little consequence.

Jonathan had become the focal point of her existence, a gravitational force that commanded her thoughts every second of each living moment. Love enveloped her heart, and every morning, she revelled in waking up next to him, ensuring each time he left was accompanied by a heartfelt goodbye. She made sure he woke her up before he departed at ungodly hours just to say goodbye.

Yet, the intensity of her emotions caused many problems. Times when Jonathan would leave without waking her up, she’d frantically dial his phone, calling a hundred times if she had to, only to unleash her frustration over the phone. But Every time, Jonathan responded with unwavering devotion, hastening back to comfort her unrest and lull her back into a peaceful slumber. There were instances when she felt utterly adrift, grappling with the overwhelming weight of existence, succumbing to panic attacks that left her incapacitated. In those vulnerable moments, he would return to a dishevelled scene, a testament to the chaos that was caused by his absence.

Aware that her obsession was a result of his actions, he acknowledged the unhealthy dynamic but he honestly couldn’t care less. Rather than recoiling, he found a peculiar allure in her obsession. Initially motivated by a desire for her well-being, his aspirations shifted over time. Now, he craved her presence unapologetically, indifferent to the means employed to secure it. What once began as a pursuit of what was best for Y/n transformed into an unbridled desire to possess her, regardless of the cost.

"Should I go pick up the rest of my stuff from the dorms?" Y/n inquired, setting her book down and directing her gaze toward Jonathan, who was seated at his desk.

He glanced over at her, considering the question. "I suppose that would be wise. I can drop you off at the dorms to gather your things tomorrow if you'd like. I won’t be able to help you get them though, being a professor and all." Jonathan suggested.

"That’s fine, I have a bunch of suitcases to pack my shit in. I'll let my parents know I've moved into a new rental and won't need to pay for the dorms anymore," Y/n confirmed.

Although her belongings at the dorm were not extensive, the prospect of decorating the warehouse with her personal items excited her, transforming it into a space that felt more like home. She looked forward to the opportunity to drag Jonathan to a department store, determined to infuse the place with a proper sense of homeliness, complete with a well-equipped kitchen. The bathroom, too, demanded considerable attention. In its current state, it lacked any built-in features, as they’d only been there for a week.

Gathering her belongings proved to be a straightforward task. Y/n efficiently packed everything from her compact dorm room into the waiting suitcases nestled in her closet. The prospect of adorning the warehouse with her personal items filled her with excitement. Down the elevator and into Jonathan's car parked outside, she loaded her possessions before promptly returning the key to the front desk.

Back at the warehouse, she eagerly unpacked her bag. Carefully laying out her blankets on the bed, the necessity of being well-prepared for the harsh Gotham winters. Finally having a place for the essential home items collected over the years, like plates and cutlery, added a comforting touch to her new living space.

"You've got quite the haul," Jonathan remarked, observing Y/n pull out an abundance of items.

Raising an eyebrow, Y/n questioned, "You don't like my mugs?" She held up a pair of cat-themed mugs that she had just grabbed from her suitcase.

Jonathan chuckled, "I just didn't expect someone who lived at the dorm to have such an array of things."

"Well, I bought them so that when I was ready, I'd already have everything to fill a house," Y/n explained.

Jonathan arched an eyebrow, "Then it must disappoint you that this is barely a house."

"Nonsense. It means I get to choose how this place is decorated," Y/n retorted with a smirk, asserting her enthusiasm for transforming their living space.

"Oh, really? What's your vision then?" Jonathan inquired, intrigued by Y/n's plans.

Leaning against the modest kitchen, Y/n surveyed their current setup. "Well, I'm not entirely certain about the kitchen yet, but it's going to be a vast improvement from what we have now," she asserted, gesturing towards the pitiful kitchen space, barely accommodating a mini fridge with a microwave above and a small countertop.

"And as for the bathroom, gunmetal grey, I think. Nice tiles, too," Y/n envisioned.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, a practical concern surfacing. "You do understand we can't have people coming in here to do that work, right?" he pointed out, as this place held all his illegal equipment.

"I know. I can do it myself," Y/n confidently replied.

Surprised, Jonathan questioned, "You know how to tile?"

"Yeah, my mum and dad used to do up houses together. I've got some handiness skills, don't worry," Y/n assured, her tone reflecting both competence and determination. “But besides..that’s a job for another day.”

Jonathan hadn't imagined such a skill from Y/n, but he found himself appreciating the prospect of someone finally transforming their warehouse into something more inviting. As Y/n carried on with her unpacking, the idea of a visually improved environment began to take root.

Y/n dedicated the majority of her class time to envisioning and designing the ideal kitchen and bathroom for the warehouse. Having already grasped the lesson from Jonathan a week ago in private, most of the material seemed redundant. Jonathan, aware of her tendency to zone out, didn’t mind much. He’d never call her out in lectures like the other students.

Armed with her sketches and ideas, Y/n meticulously outlined the placement of kitchen cabinets and various items in her notebook. She opted against structural changes, acknowledging her lack of confidence in altering the layout of walls.

From his desk at the front, Jonathan observed her from a distance. Even at that distance, he could discern a glint in her eyes as she immersed herself in the creative process. His gaze remained captivated by her presence. The subtle way she bit her lip in deep thought, coupled with her choice to sit at the front, afforded him a clear view of her legs beneath the desk. Legs crossed, bare, and accentuated by the skirt she had chosen to wear that day, further held his attention.

Jonathan had always perceived her in a clean, innocent way–until today. Now, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was a dirty old man. Though she wasn't doing anything remotely sexual, he still felt ashamed of himself. To make matters worse, he couldn't tell whether he'd manage to restrain his impulses once alone with her.

The lecture concluded, and Y/n patiently waited for the room to clear before slipping into Jonathan's office.

"I've got some home plans!" Y/n announced, waving her paper triumphantly as she approached him.

Rounding the side of his desk, she brought a chair with her and settled next to him. Leaning in, she shuffled closer, spreading out her papers and indicating the above-view image of the warehouse's floor plan.

"I was thinking we could shift the kitchen over here, away from the bathroom. I mean, having no space between the two rooms is kind of gross, don't you think?" Y/n explained, pointing at the image with her pen.

Jonathan tried to focus on her words, but her proximity, especially the enticing warmth of her thigh against his own, distracted him.

"We can relocate the living space here, and it would be a better setup than what we have now. As we settle in, maybe we could add some walls, but honestly, I'm not confident in my skill set for that right now, so tha—" Y/n abruptly halted her explanation, catching Jonathan's lingering gaze.

"Why are you staring at me?" she inquired, noticing his distraction.

Jonathan, unable to resist, admitted, "Sorry, my Dear," before capturing her lips in a surprisingly passionate kiss, letting actions convey what words couldn't.

She emitted a soft squeak in response to the unexpected kiss, attributing it to Jonathan's attempt to express affection. Detecting an unusual tension in him that day, she decided to let it slide. "It's fine, just don't complain when the warehouse looks weird," she quipped with a playful note.

Y/n rose from the chair and settled onto the couch. However, the lingering trace of her scent and the warmth from her body seemed to cling to him, leaving an indelible impression long after she had moved away.

They arrived back at his hideout later in the night, and Jonathan couldn't shake off the feeling that he was a dirty pervert. All he wanted was Y/n's body all over him, a thought that clashed violently with his normally dispassionate nature. Even when he was a teenager, he never had romantic thoughts about anyone, much less lustful ones. But in his defense, his school was full of assholes and his grandmother would beat the lust out of him. But now, with Y/n in the picture, he couldn't help but feel like he was losing control.

Jonathan had promised Y/n that they would sit on the couch together and watch a movie tonight. She was bouncing with excitement, already making microwave popcorn for the movie. When she jumped onto the couch beside him, Jonathan couldn't help but feel his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to focus on the screen, but all he could see was Y/n's warm, inviting body next to him. Jonathan could feel all the blood rush to his dick, making it twitch painfully under his jeans. Thankfully, Y/n kept a blanket on the couch so he could cover up and pretend that nothing was wrong.

Y/n laid her head on Jonathan's shoulder while he sat awkwardly straight. She thought nothing of his usual stiffness, and for once, he was glad for his natural awkwardness. He could feel her warm breath on his neck, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his own. He tried to focus on the movie, but all he could think about was the soft curves of her body. He couldn't help but feel a wave of desire wash over him as he fought to keep his hands to himself.

While Y/n was enjoying The Spongebob Squarepants Movie, Jonathan was stuck in a battle with his own thoughts. All he could think about was how he wanted to hear Y/n moan and scream beneath him as he rammed his dick into her. He tried to keep his cool, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was losing control.

Jonathan let his eyes drift from the flashy colors of the screen to Y/n. He couldn't help but notice the way her leg was thrusted out from under the blanket, her loose shorts revealing the soft, warm flesh of her thigh.

All he could think about was how he wanted to bury his face between Y/n's thighs and eat her out while her legs squeezed his head. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he couldn't help but imagine the way her body would shudder with pleasure as he brought her to orgasm.

Poor Y/n wanted to have a sweet moment together, but Jonathan's thoughts were ruining it for him. Y/n had no idea of the battle that raged within him, the way he wanted to throw her down onto the couch and rut her like a dog in heat. He knew he had to keep it together if he didn't want to ruin this precious moment with Y/n.

He remained blissfully unaware that the film had ended until the closing credits began rolling, accompanied by the familiar tune of "Ocean Man." Y/n sat up, stretching, and inadvertently causing her shirt to ride up a little.

"I love that movie," she expressed, glancing down at Jonathan, who remained seated, seemingly reluctant to move.

"Come on, time for bed," Y/n insisted, seizing Jonathan's hand and coaxing him off the couch.

As she switched off the TV and put the empty popcorn bowl away, Jonathan stood there, taking a moment to readjust his pants, ensuring they wouldn't expose him. The both of them climbed up the stairs and hopped in the bed.

"Goodnight," Y/n murmured, leaving a tender kiss on Jonathan's cheek before rolling over.

"Sleep came easily for Y/n, but for Jonathan, it was a different story. He lay awake with his hard dick pressed against his pants, thinking he couldn’t possibly be as horny in the morning as he was now, right? Oh boy, was he wrong.

For the next week, Jonathan felt like a perverted bastard. Every time he saw Y/n, he could feel his dick pulse in his pants. When he took her to the department store to look at cabinets and countertops, he couldn't help but imagine the way her body would shudder with pleasure as he fucked her over each one of them. How cute she’d look laying over the counters, moaning and squealing in pleasure as Jonathan fucked her.

The two successfully purchased a nice set of countertops without Jonathan succumbing to his usual impulses. To maintain a low profile, Jonathan opted to rent a trailer for transporting the counters, avoiding the attention that delivery might attract. With the countertops secured, Y/n wasted no time and dove into the task of installing them in her designated kitchen space. Jonathan helped in rearranging everything, providing a helping hand as Y/n drilled the countertops into their designated spots.

Y/n was on the ground, drilling the indie shlefs of the lower cabinets. Jonathan walked up behind her and stood there. Y/n was wearing baggy pair of pajama shorts and he couldn’t look away from her ass. He wanted to grab her hips and force his dick inside of her like some shitty porno. Y/n noticed Jonathan standing behind her and looked back.

"Everything okay, Jonathan?" Y/n inquired, her concern evident in her voice.

Jonathan inhaled sharply before walking away. He hoped Y/n hadn't seen his raging bulge in his pants. Y/n had begun noticing his strange behavior. If he wasn't strange before, he sure was now. She couldn't understand why he was like this. She tried to focus on their task, but all she could think about was the way his eyes had lingered on her body just a moment too long. Could he be thinking of some kind of twisted experiment like he does to his other victims. She couldn't help but feel a wave of unease wash over her as she wondered what was going on inside his head.

Y/n reclined on Jonathan's office couch, casually flipped through bathroom catalogues. As he watched her from behind the desk, Jonathan couldn't help but admire her stunning presence. Flipping through the pages with a smile, Y/n eventually stood up and approached Jonathan, holding a particular page out for him to look at.

"What do you think?" she inquired, presenting the page before him.

Yet, Jonathan found his gaze fixed on Y/n's face rather than the catalog. A face he looked at countless times daily, yet it still retained its irresistible allure, maintaining an enduring power over him. And these past couple weeks, everything about her he admire suddenly brought blood rushing to his dick.

Y/n's smile waned as silence met her question. "Jonathan?"

Before she could react, he swiftly cupped her face in his hands and pulled her into a kiss, leaving her momentarily breathless. She would have gasped if his mouth hadn't enveloped hers. When he finally pulled back, he held her gaze.

"Jonat—" she began, only to be abruptly cut off.

With a forceful motion, Jonathan cleared his books from the table, then effortlessly picked Y/n up from the ground, dropping her onto the tabletop. She squealed in surprise as he stood, the chair screeching against the floor, and loomed over her.

Y/n's heart raced as she realized Jonathan's true intentions. He brought his lips back down onto hers, kissing her with a fiery passion she'd never seen before. He pressed himself up against her, and she could feel his hard member pressing into her. It all made sense to her now. Jonathan was just really horny. All she could think about was the way his kisses made her body tingle with excitement.

She kissed him back, her fingers tangling in his hair. He groaned at her delicate touch and brought his lips down her face, leaving a trail of kisses on her jaw. He sucked and bit at her jaw and neck, leaving marks that would turn into bruises later. His hands glided down the sides of her body, gripping her plush thighs that he had been admiring for the past couple weeks. His rough fingers felt like heaven against her soft skin.

Jonathan subconsciously began grinding his hips into Y/n, and she let out a moan that echoed through the room. Y/n let her hands drag down Jonathan's body, making their way down to his pants, and that's when Jonathan realized what they were doing and where they were. He pulled away from her, but she couldn't help but feel a wave of disappointment wash over her.

"We can't, Y/n," Jonathan said, standing up.

"What!? Why not?" Y/n questioned, sitting up from the table, a frown creasing her forehead.

"I'm not going to fuck you for the first time on a desk in my office," Jonathan said.

"Then why don't you make love to me on your desk in your office?" Y/n teased, playfully dragging her foot up the inside of his leg.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow in response, and Y/n, with an eye roll, conceded, "Fine."

Jonathan assisted her off the desk and took a moment to brush her hair, ensuring she looked presentable. "Come on, let's go home," he suggested.

"Fine, but the second we get through that door, your dick is all mine," Y/n playfully declared.

Y/n practically sprinted to the car in the parking lot, surprising Jonathan with her infectious enthusiasm. Once both of them were inside the car, Y/n quickly slid into the middle seat and peppered the side of Jonathan's face with kisses. A warmth spread through Jonathan's neck beneath his collar, caught off guard by Y/n’s affection.

He pulled out onto the road and Y/n was still at his side, her finger drawing pattern on his thigh, her touch like a feather that ignited a flame within him. “You keep this up and I might crash.” Jonathan said, his voice shaking with desire.

She chuckled a little, her tongue darting out to lick the side of his neck while her hand began to wander, tracing patterns on his chest with her tight grip, sending tingles down to his core. Y/n dragged her finger down to his hard member through his pants and squeezed it suddenly, causing Jonathan nearly to swerve off the road. It was a moment of intoxicating desire that he could not control.

"Fuck, Y/n. Are you trying to get punished?" Jonathan inquired.

"Maybe..." Y/n replied with a sly grin.

Jonathan gently removed her hand from his crotch. "Not while I'm driving," he asserted.

"Can you at least play with me then?" Y/n pleaded, pouting.

He sighed, "Lie down," he commanded.

Y/n was caught up in the heat of the moment, her body craving Jonathan's touch. She felt pleasure rush to her core and quickly laid down on her back, her head on Jonathan’s thigh. Jonathan, with his eyes still on the road, brought his hand down Y/n’s body and grasped her thighs. He pulled it back, one of her legs now in the air.

“You naughty fucking girl.” He said, giving her ass a hard slap. “Can’t wait till we're home.”

She squealed before giggling. “I’m sorry, Professor, I just want you so bad!” Y/n said, her words catching in her throat.

He brought his hand to her core and rubbed her through her shorts. She hummed and grabbed a hold of Jonathan’s arm, her fingers digging into his skin. She started grinding up against it, trying to get more friction, her breath coming in short gasps.

Y/n's body was on fire as she felt Jonathan's hand slide down her pants and into her underwear. She bit her lip and moaned, her hips bucking against his touch. She felt his fingers graze her clit, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. He could feel her wetness through her underwear, his fingers slipping and sliding against her. Jonathan did his best to stay focused on the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

He couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He pulled over to the side of the road, his eyes locked on Y/n's.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“Come here,” Jonathan said, pulling her right up against his chest.

He could feel her heart racing against his own. He pushed her shorts down her legs and opened her back up, his fingers dipping between her wet pussy lips. She let out a moan, her hips bucking against his touch. His other hand pushed her hair out of the way, giving her neck a passionate kiss. She let out a moan, her body arching into his touch.

“You’re so desperate for my touch, my Dear,” Jonathan said.

He rubbed his finger in circles at her entrance, teasing her and driving her wild. “Yeah, but you’re the one who pulled over to finger me, Dr. Crane..” Y/n giggled, her voice breathy with desire.

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him, his eyes burning into hers. “Keep up that attitude and you won’t be cumming for a week.”

She let out a gasp, her body shivering at his words. “Sorry, Dr. Crane, I’ll be good..” she said, her voice trembling.

“Good girl,” he said, his eyes softening as he kissed the top of her head. He plunged his finger into her, filling her up with his touch.

He pumped his fingers into her hole, her body clenching and unclenching around his touch. The sloppy noises filled the car, her moans and gasps echoing off the walls of the car. The scent of her sex filled the air, making his head swim with desire. He gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he pumped in and out of her.

“Tonight, I’m going to make you come, over and over again. You hear me?” Jonathan spoke, right up against her ear.

Y/n nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation. Her walls began throbbing around him, her body shivering with desire.

“Are you gonna cum on my fingers, my Dear?” Jonathan asked.

“Mhmm, Professor, I’m so close!” Y/n whined, her voice breathy with excitement.

He rubbed her in circles, his thumb rubbing against her clit, driving her wild. Her breath picked up as Jonathan continued to pump his fingers inside of her and flick her clit. She gripped his arm tighter, her body shivering with anticipation. He rubbed her in circles, his thumb rubbing against her clit, driving her wild. She let out a moan, her body arching into his touch.

It was a moment of intense pleasure that they couldn't resist. She came hard, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm. Her pussy clenched and unclenched around his touch, the wetness of her sex filling the air. He could feel the heat of her body, the passion of their moment bursting forth in a explosion of desire. It was a moment of intense desire that left them both breathless.

Jonathan pressed a kiss on her temple. “Let’s go home, my Dear.” Jonathan said, his voice sweet.

He pulled his fingers out of her, a string of her slick stuck to them. He brought them to his lips and sucked her sweet essence off of his fingers. Y/n let out a gasp, her body shivering with excitement.

Just as Y/n was about to sit back up, Jonathan held her back, keeping her anchored against him. Her body swelled with love at this little gesture. She laid back against him, her head resting on his chest. She could clearly see his hard member sitting in his pants, but she knew she couldn't touch it while he was driving. The drive back never felt longer.

Getting through the warehouse door, Y/n pounced on Jonathan, kissing him deeply. Her breath picked up as he lifted her off the ground, her body shivering with anticipation. He made his way up the stairs to the bed, dropping her down on it. She gripped the sheets in her fists, her body swelling with desire.

He climbed on top of her, his lips pressing against hers. He moved his kisses to her neck, suckling at the tender skin. She gripped his hair, her body arching into his touch. He thrust his hips against hers, the heat of his body pressing against her. She could feel the hardness of his cock in his pants, the tip pressing against her cunt. She tightened her legs around his hips, pulling him down on her. He groaned, his lips pressing against hers.

“This is what you wanted?” Jonathan said, seductively.

“Mhmm,” Y/n hummed, her lips biting together.

He bit her neck hard, her body shuddering with excitement. “Say it,” he commanded.

“Yes, Dr. Crane!” Y/n cried, her body arching into his touch.

He smirked, his lips pressing against hers. He continued to grind down on her, the heat of his body pressing against her. She let out a gasp as he ripped her shorts down her legs.

“Don't think I haven't forgotten about that punishment,” he said.

Jonathan left a hard slap on Y/n's ass, the sting of it burning against her skin. She let out a gasp, her body shuddering with excitement. He rubbed the spot where he had hit her, his thumb rubbing against her skin.

Jonathan grabbed her hips, pulling her up, so her ass was in the air. He spread her legs and gave her ass another slap.

“Letting your Professor finger you in the car, naughty little girl,” Jonathan said. A hard slap came down on her ass before thrust his fingers into her pussy, the heat of his touch sending shivers down her spine.

“Playing with your little cunt sounds a lot worse to me, Professor,” Y/n teased.

Another slap came down on her ass, “You calling me a dirty pervert?” Jonathan asked.

“I may be..” she smirked.

“Yeah? So I'm a dirty pervert and you're a naive little girl,” he said, his voice low and rough. He planted a kiss down on her red ass cheek.

Jonathan flipped her back over, planting sweet kisses on her lips. Y/n, eager for more, slid her hands to Jonathan's shoulders, working on removing his jacket. However, just as things were about to escalate, Jonathan's work phone rang, his illegal work phone.

The two of them cursed simultaneously. Jonathan sighed and rested his forehead on Y/n’s with his eyes closed. “You have to be fucking kidding me,” Jonathan said.

Jonathan sat back up, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone and promptly answered it. Y/n pouted, propping herself up on her elbows as she watched him on the phone. His voice conveyed clear frustration, and the expression on his face mirrored the sentiment. Whatever transpired, it was evident that the situation was far from favorable.

The call ended, and Jonathan's expression turned somber as he dragged his hand down his face. "I have to head down to Arkham, I'm sorry, my Dear," he sighed.

Y/n's face dropped, desperation evident in her eyes. "No! You can't leave me!" she cried.

"I know, Y/n, I'm sorry. I need to deal with this, the Batman's been snooping, and I can't let that happen," Jonathan explained, gently holding Y/n's face in his hands.

"But I need you!" Y/n's eyes welled up with tears.

"Y/n, if the Batman finds out what I'm doing, I won't be coming back to you at all, and you don't want that, do you?" Jonathan said.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. Jonathan planted a tender kiss on her forehead.

"I'll be back, don't cry," he reassured her.

She nodded, sniffling. "I'll wait," Y/n declared.

"I know," Jonathan offered a small smile before hopping off the bed and walking down the stairs.

Y/n fought to compose herself, determined not to shed any more tears. Left lying on the bed as Jonathan exited the warehouse, she wiped away the traces of her emotional outburst and mustered the strength to rise. Making her way to the bathroom, she assessed her reflection in the mirror.

Apart from her puffy eyes, her appearance seemed unremarkable, but she desired to present her best self for Jonathan upon his return. Opting for a quick shower and freshening up, she hastily ascended the stairs to select an outfit for the occasion.

She tossed her clothes around in a flurry, searching for something alluring to showcase her body to Jonathan. Unfortunately, it seemed her collection of bras and underwear consisted mainly of plain and mundane options. While she did have a couple of lacy pieces, they lacked the thrilling allure she desired. She let out a sigh, berating herself for not anticipating such a scenario.

Preferring not to be entirely naked upon Jonathan's return, Y/n searched for an outfit that would offer him the pleasure of unwrapping her later. Opting for a nice skirt and shirt combination, she believed Jonathan wouldn't mind. Choosing a short skirt, she hiked it up even higher, pairing it with a small shirt that ended just below her breasts and featured a flattering sweetheart neckline.

Adorned in her chosen attire, Y/n felt she looked absolutely adorable and held onto the hope that Jonathan would think the same. Laying back on the bed, Y/n contemplated the moments she would share with Jonathan upon his return. Despite her efforts to stay awake and be ready for him, she succumbed to exhaustion within an hour.

Jonathan wante to kill everyone that fucked up his night with Y/n, he was furious the entire time getting things sorted at Arkham. Hiding his experiments was already a challenging task, and the incompetence of those who worked for him made everything more difficult to an unnecessary degree.

Jonathan raced back to the warehouse, speeding all the way. By the time he arrived, well past 11 o'clock, the faint sound of a radio reached his ears from upstairs. Climbing the stairs, he sighed at the sight of Y/n, peaceful and beautiful, lying on the bed.

Regret gnawed at him for leaving her alone, he should have stayed, leaving the complications at Arkham for someone else to handle.

Noticing her changed clothes, he smiled. She lay on her stomach, her skirt revealing a hint of her tempting silhouette. Chuckling softly, he joined her on the bed, sitting beside her. As he stroked her hair, he could tell she was deeply asleep.

Jonathan planted a gentle kiss on her head before undressing and changing into pajamas. Slipping into bed beside her, he tucked her in, sharing the warmth of the covers.

Y/n awoke to find Jonathan's arm draped over her waist. Uncertain about the moment she fell asleep or when he returned home, a hint of disappointment lingered that they never ended up having sex last night. Nevertheless, the joy of his return outweighed any regrets.

She leaned over to plant a kiss on his lips before gracefully rising from the bed. Jonathan stirred as the bed shifted with her movements, and he watched as Y/n stretched her arms upward and twisted from side to side. Chuckling at the sight of her, with her enticing figure partially exposed, Jonathan's amusement prompted Y/n to turn around and catch his gaze.

"You're up?" Y/n smiled, breaking the quiet morning.

“It would appear that way, my Dear,” Jonathan replied.

Y/n leaned over, giving Jonathan another kiss, and this time, he reciprocated as he was awake this time. Jonathan finally sat up, embracing Y/n in his arms. She smiled, and he swayed her gently from side to side.

“So… are you going to make love to me, Dr. Crane?” Y/n asked, her tone teasing.

She stood on her tiptoes, nibbling at his ear seductively. Jonathan chuckled and shook his head.

“Tonight, my Dear,” he said.

Y/n pouted, “I waited all night!”

“I know, but we have to go to university, and I want to take my time with you,” Jonathan explained with a playful smirk.

Y/n huffed and rolled her eyes. "You better!" she said before making her way down the stairs.

Jonathan chuckled, amused by her playful sulking. He got up, readying himself for the day ahead.

In the car, Y/n moved closer to Jonathan, reminiscent of the previous day. Her fingers traced patterns on his thigh, but Jonathan intercepted her hand before anything further could happen. Y/n huffed but decided to let it go.

Upon reaching the university, the two settled in Jonathan's office, awaiting the start of the lecture. Y/n occupied the couch, attempting to capture Jonathan's attention the entire time. She gracefully slid down the couch, causing her skirt to hike up, revealing her underwear.

Jonathan was well aware of her intentions. He chuckled a little, maintaining his self-control. Just the day before, he struggled to keep his dick in check, and now he found himself edging her. Though his thoughts were running wild, essentially eye fucking her, he managed to remain composed.

Y/n was driven wild with desire, yearning for Jonathan's touch. She didn't care where he touched her or where he fucked her, all she wanted was him. She pulled her skirt up higher, revealing her clothed sex, and sat with her legs open, giving Jonathan a view of what he was working with. Jonathan didn't hesitate to look, but he made no move to touch her yet.

Y/n sighed, "Don't make me hump the couch."

"Hump the couch and I won't be touching you," Jonathan said.

“So..” Y/n stood up from the couch and straddled his leg. "Can I hump your thigh then?" Y/n asked.

"Fine, but no orgasm," Jonathan said.

Y/n giggled and began rocking her hips back and forth, her breath hitching as she felt the head of his cock brush against her knee through his pants.

Y/n was riding Jonathan's thigh, her hips moving in a steady rhythm. Her dress had ridden up to her waist, revealing the black lace of her only pair of underwear. Her breasts swayed with each movement, her nipples hard and poking through the fabric. She was breathing heavily, her face flushed with excitement. Jonathan watched her, his cock twitching with desire. He could feel the dampness of her sex through the fabric of his pants. He knew he couldn't last much longer.

"Such a sweet girl, you are," Jonathan said, his hands settling on her hips as she rode his thigh.

Her knees continued to brush against his hard erection, and Y/n couldn't help but laugh. "Calm down, don't wanna fog up your glasses," she teased, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

Jonathan pulled her closer to his chest, her ass jutting out. He delivered a hard smack to her ass, making her gasp. "Watch it," he said, his voice stern.

Y/n looked up at him with a sly grin. "Sorry, Doc," she teased, knowing exactly what she was doing to him.

Y/n continued to ride his thigh, her hips grinding down hard against his touch. She could feel the wetness between her legs, and she knew that he could too. His cock was hard, and she could feel it pressing against her. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the moans that were threatening to escape

Jonathan watched her, his eyes burning with lust. He delivered a swift smack to her ass, making her chuckle and him smrik. Y/n looked up at him, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Doctor, I think I'm gonna cum," she said, her voice shaking with anticipation.

Y/n was on the edge of orgasm when Jonathan pulled her off of his knee. "I don't think so, Dear," he said firmly.

Her building orgasm vanished, and Y/n was left feeling frustrated and angry. "What the fuck!?" she yelled, her hands balled into fists.

Jonathan looked at her with a stern expression. "I said no orgasm," he reminded her.

Y/n huffed, her chest heaving with anger. "Fine. Then I'll just have to figure out another way to cum," she said, turning away from him.

But Jonathan wasn't done. He swatted her ass hard, making her yelp and turn back around.

"Don't think for a second that you're in control here," he said.

Y/n was furious. She stood up from her position and stormed over to the couch, crossing her arms.

“No time for sulking, girl, gotta be out in 5...” Jonathan remarked.

She got up from the couch, declaring, “I’m leaving now!”

Y/n stomped out of the office door and headed to her usual seat at the front. She was in for a long lecture.

The lecture concluded, and Y/n approached Jonathan, who sported a familiar smirk.

“Ready to head home?” Y/n said.

“For you, yes,” Jonathan replied with a smile.

“What?” Y/n squinted, puzzled.

“I have a meeting, and I've asked Nigma to take you home,” Jonathan explained.

“What, you two are buddies now?” Y/n questioned.

“Doesn't matter what we are; I want you home safe while I'm at my meeting,” Jonathan stated, gathering his belongings.

Y/n sighed, “You better be back before 5, come any later, and I'll be cumming instead,” she teased.

Jonathan chuckled, planting a kiss on her forehead. “He's waiting outside,” he informed her.

Y/n sighed and walked out of the lecture hall and outside. She immediately spotted Edward by his bright lime green car.

“How subtle,” Y/n remarked, approaching the car with its windows down.

“Hello, Y/n. Very nice to see you!” Edward greeted.

Y/n hopped into the passenger seat of the car. “So! Doing favors for Jonathan now?” she asked.

“I owe him... and besides, you're much more fun than that stick in the mud,” Edward replied.

Y/n chuckled as Edward pulled out onto the road.

“I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?” Edward suddenly posed a riddle.

“Seriously?” Y/n raised her eyebrows, looking at Edward. “A map. What am I, five?”

“I see that one was too easy, you'll never get my next one,” Edward said.

Y/n sighed, this was going to be a long ride.

Y/n was mentally exhausted. Being horny for the entire day was hard enough but dWe ealing with Edward's annoying riddles during the 20-minute drive had only added to her frustration. Despite that, she found some enjoyment in Edward's company.

“Would you like to come in?” Y/n asked.

Edward raised his eyebrows. “You really want me to?”

“Well, sure... just no more riddles!” Y/n demanded.

“You ask so much of me,” Edward said, hopping out of the car.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “You’ll live.”

They entered the warehouse, and Edward looked around, whistling in appreciation. “I see you’ve done some work around here,” he remarked.

“You like it?” Y/n asked.

“Much better than Jonathan’s old place. He’s never been the decorative type,” Edward said.

As Y/n led Edward Nigma into the warehouse, she offered, "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Edward's eyes gleamed with interest. "Ah, the elixir of intellectual stimulation. I'd love one, thank you."

She stared at him for a second, judging his choice of words before walking off. Y/n guided him to a makeshift kitchen area where she had set up a coffee maker. She busied herself with the task of brewing coffee while Edward observed her surroundings, his eyes darting from one detail to another.

Handing him a steaming cup, Y/n took a seat across from Edward at a small table. "Sorry that you had to take me home? Well, not really, you paid it all back by tormenting me with riddles on the drive"

Edward grinned, sipping the coffee. "Well, my riddles are a delight, thank you. Jonathan asked me to ensure you get home safely. You're important to him, you know."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "I guess even Gotham rogues like yourself have a softer side."

Edward chuckled. "You know.. I’m surprised you even stayed."

Y/n maintained her smile, though it held a hint of frustration. "Well... We were friends before everything," she reiterated, trying to explain her perspective.

Edward continued stirring the conversation provocatively. "You sure it's not... Stockholm Syndrome?" he questioned, his finger tracing the rim of his coffee cup.

"No, it's not. He didn't really kidnap me," Y/n replied, laughter accompanied by a hint of stiffness.

Edward pressed further, bringing up the topic of the infamous bells. "Jonathan told me about the bells..."

"That doesn't matter anymore, he took them off. See!" Y/n shook her feet around, emphasizing that they made no sounds.

Edward, persistent in his scepticism, offered a backhanded suggestion. "I'd say you should see a psychiatrist, but I just think you'd find your way back to Jona-"

"Okay, Edward! I get it!" Y/n interjected, her smile tight-lipped, signalling an end to the topic.

Edward chuckled to himself, savouring a sip from his mug, as Y/n subtly redirected the conversation. "So yeah, I did up a nice kitchen and bathroom," she stated.

He observed his surroundings before responding, "Yes, it's a very nice kitchen."

As they continued chatting over coffee, Y/n was able to ignore the throbbing between her thighs for a couple of hours.

As the sun began to set, Y/n sat on the couch, her legs crossed and her eyes fixed on the TV screen. She was getting restless. It had been nearly 5 pm now, and Jonathan still hadn't come home. Edward had left a couple of hours ago, leaving Y/n with little to no distractions.

She had tried to read, but her mind kept wandering. She had taken a long shower, hoping to relieve some of her tension, but it hadn't helped. Y/n had been feeling a sense of desperation building up inside her. It was like her body was craving something that she couldn't get on her own.

She needed Jonathan. She needed him to make her feel complete. But for now, she was left to her own devices. She sighed and leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. She needed to relax.

She flipped up her skirt and slipped her fingers down her underwear, touching herself in a way that made her shiver with excitement. Her hands moved slowly and sensually over her body. She moaned softly, feeling her core throbbing with anticipation. She rubbed her pussy in circles, her hips bucking against her touch. Her eyes fluttered close. She needed to cum. She needed it badly.

The TV was blaring, and Y/n was so lost in her own world that she didn't even hear the door open. She was knuckles deep and close to orgasm.

“Well!” a voice from in front of her spoke loudly. She suddenly gasped, opening her eyes and shaking in fright.

It was Jonathan, standing in front of her with a disapproving look on his face.

"You said you had until 5," he said, looking at his wrist watch. "It's only 4:51."

Y/n shook her head, trying to regain her composure. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking.

Jonathan shook his head, disappointed. "You think you can just do as you please?" he asked, his voice low and menacing.

Y/n shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. "No, no. Of course not," she said, trying to pacify him.

"Looks like you don't want to cum tonight," Jonathan said.

Y/n begged, grabbing onto Jonathan's arm. "No, please!" she said, her voice shaking. Jonathan didn't say anything else.

He just picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed as he took her up the stairs and dropped her back on the bed.

"What am I going to do with such a naughty patient like you?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Anything, Doctor," Y/n said, her voice shaking. "Just let me cum."

Jonathan sighed, feeling frustrated. He wanted to punish Y/n and not let her cum, but he could also see that she was desperate too.

"I'll let you cum," he said, "but you listen to me. I'm in charge."

Y/n nodded her head quickly. "Thank you, Dr. Crane," she said, her voice almost breathless.

Jonathan climbed onto the bed, hovering above Y/n. "You're going to cum three times," he said, "with no breaks, okay?"

Y/n nodded her head quickly. "Good," Jonathan said, his tone firm.

He straightened his back, removed his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. "Move up a bit," he said, gesturing for Y/n to sit back further on the bed.

Y/n moved up, giving Jonathan more room below her. He knelt in front of her, his eyes fixed on her bare pussy.

"You're going to cum," he said, his voice seductive. "And you're going to enjoy every second of it."

Jonathan grabbed Y/n's legs and rested them over his shoulders. He brought his face closer to her pussy, inhaling the scent of her arousal. Y/n's eyes were filled with desperation as she watched him get closer and closer to her wet cunt. Jonathan licked her slowly, taking his time to tease her. He licked up and down her slit, making sure to hit all the right spots. Y/n moaned, her hips bucking against his touch.

His tongue danced around her clit, circling it slowly before dipping down to her entrance. Y/n cried out, arching her back as she felt him eat her out. Jonathan's tongue was magic, teasing and tormenting her. Y/n wriggled underneath him, trying to get closer to his mouth. She needed him to make her cum. Jonathan smiled to himself as he continued to eat her out, his eyes fixed on her pussy. He knew he had her right where he wanted her.

“Fuck, Dr. Crane!” Y/n moaned, gripping Jonathan’s hair.

Jonathan stuck his tongue into Y/n's entrance, pushing it in as far as he could. Y/n let out a sharp gasp, her eyes widening with surprise. He moved his tongue around, making circles and figure-eights inside her. Y/n bucked underneath him, her hips pushing against his face. Jonathan smiled, feeling her walls clench around his tongue.

He was driving her wild, and he knew it. Y/n moaned, her voice thick with arousal. She could feel her orgasm building, and she knew she was going to explode. Jonathan licked her until she could no longer take it. He pulled his tongue out of her, watching as she cried out in frustration. He smiled, knowing he had complete control over her pleasure. Y/n was his to do with as he pleased.

Jonathan withdrew his mouth, adjusting his glasses as he looked up at her. "Enjoying yourself, my pretty patient?" he asked with a smirk.

“Mhmm, yes, Dr. Crane.” Y/n bit her lips, looking down at him.

Jonathan began to finger her, pushing two fingers into her wet pussy. Y/n gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head. He moved his fingers in and out, stretching her walls and driving her wild. Y/n moaned, her hips pushing against his hand. Jonathan smiled, feeling her tighten around his fingers.

He sucked her clit, teasing it with his tongue. Y/n moaned, her hips bucking against his touch. Jonathan's fingers moved in and out of her, hitting all the right spots.

"You're such a desperate girl," Jonathan said.

"Please, Dr. Crane," Y/n said, her voice shaking with excitement.

"I need it." Jonathan smiled, feeling his cock harden at the sound of her voice.

He knew he had her right where he wanted her. "You're going to cum," he said. "And you're going to enjoy every second of it." Jonathan continued to eat her out, his tongue dancing around her pussy.

Y/n moaned, her hips bucking against his touch. "You like that?" he asked, looking up at her. "You like the way I'm making you feel?"

Y/n nodded her head quickly, her eyes fixed on his face. "Yes," she said, her voice thick with arousal. "Please, don't stop."

Y/n's body tensed, her walls clenched around his fingers, and her face contorted in pleasure. Jonathan smiled, feeling her orgasm build. He knew he was driving her wild. Y/n cried out, her body shuddering with pleasure. Her walls pulsed around his fingers, and her cunt spasmed on his tongue. Jonathan continued to eat her out, his tongue moving in circles around her clit. Y/n moaned, her body convulsing at his touch. She rolled her eyes back in her head, feeling the intensity of her orgasm. It was like nothing they had ever experienced before.

Y/n was coming down from her high, her eyes fixed on Jonathan's face. He smiled, knowing she was addicted to his touch. Jonathan's tongue was still on her, lapping up her juices seeping out. She whimpered, pushing his head away lightly.

"No use in that," Jonathan began to unbuckle his pants, his cock already hardening at the sight of her. "I've got all night with you."

Jonathan pulled his pants down just past his hips, revealing his hard cock to Y/n. She admired it, her eyes fixed on the sight. He stroked it slowly, the dick already slick with her juices from his fingers. Jonathan lifted her legs onto his shoulders, the position she would learn to love. He lined himself up at her entrance, his cock pressing against her wet pussy. He slowly pushed in, watching as Y/n gasped. He smiled, feeling her walls clench around his cock.

Jonathan leaned over top of her, his lips brushing against her ear. "You’re so beautiful?"

Jonathan began thrusting into Y/n, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. His hand roamed up the side of her legs, gripping her ankle. He felt the scars on her ankles and rubbed his thumb over them soothingly. Y/n moaned, her body arching into his touch. She reached up to unbutton his shirt, but he grabbed her wrists and held them above her head.

"I'm in control," he said, his voice firm. "You're mine to do with as I please." Y/n whimpered, her body shuddering with pleasure.

“Sorry, Dr. Crane,” Y/n said, breathlessly.

Jonathan's erection was big and hard, sliding in and out of Y/n's pussy. The feeling of his cock hitting her walls sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She could feel every inch of him as he pounded her. The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the room.

Y/n's head fell back and her eyes were closed tightly as she enjoyed the ride. Jonathan's breath was heavy as he groaned, continuing to thrust into her. He'd never felt something more heavenly, he knew he'd be addicted to the feeling of being inside of her. He continued to thrust, hitting the sweet spots inside of her.

In the position she was in, with her legs over his shoulders and arms above her head, Y/n was at Jonathan’s whim completely and she loved it. She felt his every stroke deep inside her, the burn in her pussy building with each thrust. His musky scent filled her nostrils, and she couldn't help but moan in ecstasy as the heat between them grew.

“You're such a good patient, Y/n,” he whispered against her ear, his hot breath making her wetter. Jonathan's words sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

Y/n couldn't help but moan in response, arching her back as his cock hit her sweet spot again and again.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, “I'm your patient, Dr. Crane.”

With that, he fucked her harder, taking him deep inside her as she called out his name. Jonathan's thrusts grew harder and faster, his hips pistoning into Y/n's pussy with a force that made her gasp.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his eyes locked on hers.

Y/n's head fell back as she felt the burn in her pussy grow, her breath coming in short gasps. With each thrust, Jonathan's cock hit her sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She cried out in ecstasy, her nails digging into her palms as she urged him on.

Y/n felt her second orgasm building, her breath coming in short, heavy gasps. Jonathan's cock was still inside her, his eyes locked on hers as he watched her writhe in pleasure.

“Aww, is my little patient about to cum?” Jonathan mocked.

She had no time to answer when her body began shaking all over again, underneath Jonathan. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her, leaving her panting and weak in his arms. Jonathan kept up his pace, his cock hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. Y/n couldn't help but wonder how he was able to hold on for so long without cumming himself.

Y/n felt overstimulated, her senses on overload. Jonathan's cock was still pumping in her, his eyes locked on hers as he watched her writhe in pleasure, Jonathan fucked her harder and faster through her orgasm.

“Doctor, it's too much!” she gasped.

But Jonathan was unmoved. ”I don't care what it is, I'm gonna make you cum two more times,” he growled, his eyes locked on hers.

“B-but I've already cum twice! You said three!” Y/n cried.

“I changed my mind,” Jonathan replied, his voice low and sultry.

Y/n knew that if she said stop, he'd listen immediately. But she loved the idea that Jonathan was doing this all by force, his cock buried deep inside her as he pounded into her.

Jonathan suddenly flipped her over, Y/n lying on her stomach. Jonathan hovered above her from behind, lining himself up before pushing inside of her again. His body weight above her kept her in place, giving her nowhere to move.

Y/n felt the heat of his breath against her neck as he growled, "You're mine," into her ear.

She couldn't help but shiver, feeling so desired and taken. As he pounded into her, Y/n couldn't help but cry out in pleasure and overstimulation, her body responding to his every move. The pallets holding the bed up slammed against the floor, the sound echoing through the warehouse.

His hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he pumped into her. Y/n pressed on the mattress, feeling the heavy thud of his cock against her pussy. Jonathan's face was beaded with sweat, he enveloped Y/n in a warm embrace, his arms encircling her shoulders and waist, securing her close to him with a tender grip.

Y/n gripped his arm and sat around her shoulder, trying to hold on to reality. Tears pricked her eyes as Jonathan pounded into her. Y/n could feel his cock slide in and out of her, his balls slapping against her ass cheeks. It was intense, and Y/n couldn't help but beg for more.

Her voice cracked as she pleaded, “Pleae! Don't stop!” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

His rough features softened as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, just below her eyes, “You're so beautiful.”

Their breaths came in short gasps as he pounded into her, his movements becoming haphazard. Jonathan's movements became unsteady as he neared his own orgasm, his breath coming in short gasps. Y/n felt his weight shift as he slammed into her, his expression twisting into a snarl. It was a surprise his glasses never fell off with how animalistic he was.

“F-fuck, I need to pull out,” Jonathan shuddered.

But Y/n held onto his arm tightly, not allowing him to move. “No! Please, Dr. Crane! Don’t pull out.”

Jonathan's muscles tensed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he came, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. Y/n felt him pulse inside her, his hot cum filling her hole. But he didn't slow down, his thrusts becoming even more forceful as he continued to pound into her, ignoring his own overstimulation.

Jonathan's cum seeped out of her while he continued to pound into her, the sticky liquid dripping down her mound. Y/n had no time to think before her third orgasm came crashing down on her like a wave as Jonathan's thrusts grew even more frenzied. She cried out his name, her voice lost in the storm of pleasure that coursed through her body as her heart pounded in her chest.

Jonathan looked down at Y/n, her eyes glazed over and her body trembling with overstimulation.

“That's three,” he whispered, his voice rough with lust. “You can give me another one.”

Y/n couldn't form a coherent thought, her mind lost in a haze of pleasure as she felt Jonathan's cock pumping in and out of her. All she could do was moan and blabber.

"Is my patient all dumb, hmm?" Jonathan's voice was a low rumble as he held her face in his hand.

Y/n couldn't speak properly, her eyes rolling back into her head as he continued to thrust deep into her. She could feel his smile against her cheek as he looked down at her, the corners of his lips curling up in amusement.

Y/n's cunt was so overstimulated that it was numb with each thrust, but she could feel all the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through her body. She knew she wouldn't last much longer, her orgasm building up inside her like a storm brewing on the horizon.

“Fuck, already throbbing around me,” Jonathan muttered, mocking her. 'My sweet little patient is about to cum again, and it hasn't even been two minutes."

Jonathan felt his second orgasm nearing as Y/n was nearing her fourth. He gritted his teeth, his eyes darkening as he continued to pound into her.

“That's it, patient,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “Let it all out.”

Y/n's body arched sharply as her fourth orgasm crashed over her like a wave, her sobs of pleasure echoing in the room as Jonathan's own orgasm hit him like a bolt of lightning. He growled out her name, his heart pounding in his chest as he came, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. They were both left panting and gasping for air, their bodies still pulsing with pleasure as they stared at each other in awe.

Jonathan stopped fucking Y/n and just held her, their bodies still pulsing with pleasure as they lay in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice rough with emotion as he whispered, “You did well, Y/n… my pretty patient..”

Jonathan gently pulled out, tenderly turning her over. In her dazed state, he handled her with utmost care, cradling her in his arms. Y/n snuggled closer to Jonathan, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Their clothes, damp with sweat, clung to their bodies.

"Do you want my help having a shower?" Jonathan inquired of Y/n.

"Mhmm, later," Y/n whimpered.

"You really should freshen up, my Dear," Jonathan insisted.

"I can barely fucking think, let alone stand. Later, please," Y/n whined, her eyes closed.

Jonathan sighed. “Hour rest, then you’re showering.”

“Okay, Dr. Crane,” Y/n murmurs, jokingly.

Jonathan chuckled softly, shaking his head, and simply held her close. Both of them knew that sex would now play a significant role in their relationship now, as neither could get enough of each other.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it. I plan to make some more for this series and feel free to request other stories too. I can't imagine it being a long series but I do have plans to write more. 💚

I began writing the smut scene while the poll was still going, so I started with calling Jonathan Professor Crane as it was in front but it ended up being Dr. Crane in the end, so I adapted to that, thank you everyone for voting in that poll, I appreciate the help :)

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monstercampus · 10 months ago

Text

Harpy Professor - First Meeting

(cws: slight alcohol mention, brief lewd references)

wc: 3.5k

Last night was a mess. Priam had been out all night partying with his friends, while Antón had been rage-cleaning the apartment in a frenzy in order to have everything spotless before the first day of term. The two of them you've gotten used to, of course, but their habits still tick you off when you're not in the mood to deal with them. Priam's drunken stumble back into the dorm at 4 AM didn't help either, as your vampiric roommate got into an argument with him over leaving the living room a mess. Exams have been over for weeks, and yet the two of them still find stupid things to fight about in the heat of the moment.

And you were left to endure it as best you could, your pillow clamped over your ears for half the night and your blanket pulled down over your feet by your shadow friend–who also seemed to be quite frustrated by your other tenants and their noise, trying vainly to block out the light and seal your door in his mist to try and muffle the ruckus. Either way you weren't going to sleep, not well, so now you've stepped into your first class of the new semester with bags under your eyes and half your school supplies forgotten. Just get through it today. Tomorrow will be better.

First on the roster this morning is Monster-Human Relations–a class you knew would be small, but not this small, with barely ten or so seats filled so far in the mid-sized lecture room. There's only about five rows of staggered desks on a slope anyways, with a curved, connected desk to separate the section from the front of the class and the podium. And you're a few minutes early, so you anticipate there'll be more students filing in as they wake up from their respective hangovers or hangovers-by-association, like yourself. Being an advanced class, though, it's not going to be much bigger than this. The only reason you're even taking this class was because the professor made a request for your attendance, and gave you special permissions to attend based on your unique species allocation. And lo and behold, even so, there's a face you recognize right as you walk in the door, his piercing eyes perking up as he lifts his head at the sound of your footsteps. It's Nick. Gods you are glad to see him. He peers at you through a few loose strands of dark hair, and at the sight of you a smile flashes across his face.

"Hey," He brightens up, pulling on the back of the chair beside him to offer you a seat. "Didn't know you were in this class too." He chuckles, though your look of relief doesn't seem to entertain him enough not to notice the weight of weariness you carry in your slumped shoulders. You're quick and eager to drop your bag on the table and slide into the chair, but Nick's worry stops you in your tracks. "What's up, buttercup? You look exhausted. Why aren't you in bed?"

"Roommates kept me up," You sigh, flipping open the lip of your bag to pull out your laptop. "But I'm okay. Can't miss the first class, anyways."

"Of course you can." Nicky's grin returns as you hoped it would, but it's gentler this time. "Besides, Wellwright's a big puffball. You can pretty much do whatever you want in his classes."

"I don't wanna be rude."

"You don't have a rude bone in your body." He's not flippant about it, but he does avert his eyes as he makes his comment–although it could just be because he's scribbling the date and the course number down in his thick notebook. "Wellwright's a super sweet guy, he was my mentor in Commonspeak class. He'll love you."

"You took Commonspeak?"

"Sure did." Those pearly teeth make an appearance as he chuckles, pride swelling his chest. "Barely spoke a word when I got here. Now I'm the most voracious person you probably know."

"Voracious?" You laugh, and he joins you, though as uplifting as it is it doesn't last for very long. You're grateful for it even so, your chuckling devolving as more people filter in and drawing to a close as the door to the classroom nearly slams off the hinges.

One moment of peace turns into chaos like the flip of a light switch, a pair of huge, strong wings entering the room with a scraggly, rough-looking man stumbling in alongside them. A tornado of feathers seems to cascade over the front of the room, flying off and whipping up with the breeze as those enormous wings flap and fold in an attempt to keep their host on his feet. Both you and Nick have to grab hold of your notebook and laptop respectively just so they don't fly off the table.

"My apologies!" He squawks, arms full of books and papers that also seem to be flying everywhere as he makes his way to his desk. You spare a glance over Nick's shoulder as he checks his watch, to which he taps and mouths "late" to you to elicit another giggle.

Raven Wellwright, a harpy of considerable acclaim, is definitely a name you've heard beyond the professor hastily scribbling it up on the whiteboard. Not only is he one of very, very few male harpies known to the world, but he's also very conveniently one of a handful of experts on the field of monster and human cooperation. He's penned a library of papers, articles, and books on the subject, won awards for his aid in developmental projects and awareness campaigns, and he's even been the first monster to be welcomed into a previously human-exclusive collegiate of considerable prestige. He's a rarity in all senses of the word…a rarity that's molting his feathers all over his desk, sweat gathering at his collar as his short waves of strawberry-blond locks falling haphazardly back into place while he shuffles around.

"Right!" He bellows out to the three-quarters-empty classroom, the tak tak of his papers hitting the podium echoing off the walls like glass marbles. "What was I saying?"

"You haven't started yet, professor." Nick calls out, and although it's certainly an awkward air in the room the harpy seems somewhat relieved that he hasn't already forgotten what just came out of his mouth.

"Right, thank you Nicholas. Nicholas!" He suddenly bursts into a frenzy, a smile plastered over his glowing face and his eyes sparkling with grateful familiarity. "Nicholas will be our note-taker this term, as well as your TA! Take a bow, Nick!"

Funny enough, even confident-and-cool Nick boasts a spot of shyness and a dark flush to his ears as he's encouraged to stand, turning around to wave at your fellow students who eye him up with varying degrees of interest, all while Raven claps with an eagerness to him that lasts until your friend reclaims his seat. Whispers dominate the classroom while Raven's head is turned, though it doesn't seem like they're just regarding the scatterbrained professor and his handsome assistant–especially not when he turns back and his square glasses-framed eyes land directly on you.

"Oh," That soft puff of air could just as well be a gunshot with how loud it feels to you, Raven's lithe fingers trembling slightly as he pushes his lenses higher up on his nose. For a split second, even with Nick's comforting words in the back of your brain, a tense knot of worry tightens in your stomach as you wonder whether your presence will be met with disdain.

"H-Hello! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," And yet that concern evaporates the instant he skirts around the podium, features bright and his wings rustling excitedly as he hustles towards your desk and thrusts his hand out to yours. You barely have to hold his at all with how violently nervous his grip is, fingers clamped down so tight you can just barely feel the itch of his filed claws for nails against your skin. "Raven Wellwright, P.H.D! I'd like to welcome you to our university–it is a joy and an honour to have you here!"

With one last tight squeeze of his unusually cool hand, he pats your arm and releases you from that iron grip to scurry back to his podium. As luck would have it, all he's got prepared for today is a review of the syllabus, which soon flies by despite being peppered with occasional comments and brief anecdotes to supplement it, courtesy of a now hyper-focused prof who clearly knows what he's talking about. It's almost a little intimidating to watch him switch so quickly from anxiety to decisiveness, the nervous shakes vanishing as he briefly divulges the core topics of the material you'll be going over. It actually helps to stir you a bit from your exhaustion, though the half-smushed granola bar in the bottom of your bag also helps once he reiterates that eating in his class isn't a faux pas.

"I'm sure you're all readily familiar with the plagiarism policy and academic conduct sections as well, yes? Any questions?"

A revolution of head-nodding round the room seems to suffice, and with a quick glance at the clock by the door Wellwright rolls out his shoulders and drops his papers against the podium with a refreshed sigh.

"Well, that's good enough for me! Take an early lunch and enjoy the rest of your day, we'll start with our introductory lecture next class–oh, and could you two come to my office for a spell?" As he passes by your joint desks he gives them a tap, making eye contact with both you and Nick with a reassuring smile as the rest of the class shuffles their bookbags and lets their chair legs squeak as they get up from their seats. Your heart kicks up with a nervous thump, thump, thump, but whether Nick can smell it or hear it or is completely oblivious to it he pats your thigh under the table and nudges your shoulder playfully.

"No worries. He probably just wants to gush over you." He whispers into your ear, and with a half-smile conjured up from your dwindling pool of strength you gather your things in kind and follow alongside the werewolf as you both make your way to Wellwright's office, the path known well enough to him that he can chat your ear off the whole way there, and still make it in time to watch the professor hustle along down the corridor with his bag in tow as the two of you wait for him to unlock the door.

"Come in, come in! Take a seat–anywhere is fine–and have a snack! I've got tea…uh, somewhere! Just give me a moment.."

It's most certainly more haphazard being around him in the cramped office than it was in the lecture hall–as Wellwright hurries in and you two follow behind, Nick has to bring his hand down firmly on your head for you both to duck, just barely missing the professor's wing as it swings around and nearly collides with both of you. And with the size and strength of those muscles and that coat of healthy tawn-coloured feathers, you don't even wanna know how hard it would hurt to get smacked with one of those things.

But, oblivious to your plight, the avian totters around his office chirping up a storm while the werewolf at your side leads you–with your heads appropriately bowed under his wing line this time–to take your seats in the two plush chairs across from his spacious corner desk. Raven busies himself by the window with what looks to be a teapot on a portable burner for a minute or two, before the spout starts to whistle a familiar tune and he expertly tips it out to pour three steaming cups of fresh tea. Ginger-flavoured by the smell of it, the scent pervading your nostrils in an oddly relaxing way as he lays out each cup in front of all three of you. Curious, you watch as he takes his own seat, and notice that the arms of his chair dip towards the back for each wing to settle comfortably in the empty slots. Monster creativity truly knows no bounds, no matter how benign the design.

"-Anyways, that's quite enough about me! I'd like to know more about you." His bangs flutter over each brow as he turns to meet your eyes, not an ounce of enthusiasm missing from his gaze as he takes a sip from his cup–and proceeds to splutter and cough with a napkin pulled up to cover his mouth, mumbling in a half-lisp about burning his tongue. When you follow his lead with a giggle you make sure to at least blow on yours, and it's actually rather sweet despite the strength of the ginger threatening to overwhelm you. "I–we–are well and truly excited to have you here! I can't tell you how integral your presence will be in the pursuit of monster-human cooperation–you are sincerely a gift to this establishment, and I cannot thank you enough for taking the plunge and attending despite the odd circumstances."

Somehow–perhaps it's an effect of the tea–the mouthful of praises the professor drops are free from his usual stutters and vocal stumbling, as if the topic of you is yet another subject he can't help but be eloquently passionate about. You, on the other hand? You're not even sure what to say to that...such high praise feels uncalled for, not that it's unpleasant in nature, but that it should be reserved for someone that's actually done something to deserve it. All you really did was go with the flow and refrain from kicking up a fuss.

"I, uh…th-thank you, professor, but I really didn't do much…" You shrug shyly, suddenly wishing you could disappear from the awkwardness and hide inside Nick's jacket for comfort. But the silent moment passes not in a hollow, nerve-wracking way, because it's filled by Raven's easy smile growing into something a little more intimate, his feathers settling to lay flat as he reaches over the desk and gently clasps both hands over yours.

"You took a risk, my dear. Unsure of what lies on the horizon, you chose a path seldom travelled yet long overdue for progress. That in itself is worth a world of praise."

You knew he could be eloquent, but that…that was poetry. And could that warmth tipping his pointed ears be a blush, coincidental with how his fingers retract from touching you? Worried his touches may come off as something more the longer they linger? Or are you simply reading into things?

"Maybe I should go," Nick teases, and that thankfully eases the tension enough for you to snap back into the reality at hand–and for Raven's feathers to ruffle in embarrassment as he leans away from you just to bump his head painfully on his overhanging lamp.

"Sweet Chaos–ah, I'm fine, I'm fine!" He waves away your worry while Nick erupts into a cheeky laugh beside you, the professor's unyielding clumsiness proving too much for him to keep it all sealed in. Especially hearing a string of curses fly from such a sweet, kind-hearted man's mouth, who wouldn't hurt a beetle even if it bit him. "Before I injure myself further, perhaps I should just get to the point." He sighs with a palm pressed to the back of his head, rubbing the soreness off the fortunately very minor bump there.

"It's the MHC thing, right?" Nick pipes up, sobered from the giggle fit but still grinning from ear to ear.

"Just so." Raven nods, those cotton candy-pink eyes shifting back to you. "My dear, I have a favour to ask of you. Would you consider being a human ambassador on my behalf?"

"...Ambassador? As in..?"

"Oh, i-it's nothing too taxing! Allow me to explain: being an ambassador simply means you would be willing to speak as an individual of your species for MHC conferences. It would really just involve me calling on your opinion and presenting it to the Monster-Human Commission–most of it will just be in writing, no more than a sentence or few."

"You mean 'sentence or two', professor." Nick cuts in, leaning back in his chair like he owns the place. If you weren't mistaken, you could swear there's a glint of something fierce in the harpy's eyes as his gaze flits over to his protégé–but it's there and gone in a moment, and you try not to let the thought linger for fear of how it might make you wonder.

"Goodness! Surpassing your mentor already, eh? Maybe you should be the one teaching commonspeak, Mr. Wolf." He soon returns to the comfort of your gaze on him. "By no means is it a necessity, but it would be of brilliant use to my colleagues in the commission. Take some time to think about it, okay? There's no rush. You can start and stop whenever you please."

"I, uh…yes, thank you, professor. I'll give it some thought." Wellwright nods with a happy grin, and allows you to finish the rest of your tea with a few occasional spurts of scatterbrained conversation peppered in between. He's so courteous and well-spoken, gentle and kind…there's no wonder you've heard giggling from the harpy girls on campus when he's brought up, his dreaminess a total diamond in the rough for any self-respecting monster. An absolute gem. A-

"Hey, professor, I can't quite remember–are we reviewing interbreeding this term?"

As if burning his tongue and bumping his head wasn't enough, Wellwright balks at Nick's unforeseen question and nearly chokes on the dregs of his tea, the liquid splattering his chin with a cough that he's quick to wipe with the back of his hand. If it crossed your mind in time, and if you weren't so tired, you'd have half a mind to give Nick a pinch under the desk for torturing the poor man.

"C-Cross-species mating? Uh, ye…yes, we are.."

"Mmh. Gotcha. We've got a human this year, so maybe we can do our independent study on it? That'd be pretty helpful for your research, huh?"

What hits you right away is that he doesn't say no. Not that it's not his first reaction, but that the word doesn't even cross his lips. The slightest twinge of his brow has the harpy narrowing his eyes at the werewolf, and for a brief spell you think the professor might be humouring the exact same reaction as you were.

"Th-That would depend on the human's decision, Nick–and that is certainly not the full extent of my research, I might add!"

"Y-You, um…you study interbreeding, Dr. Wellwright?"

Your query flits out like the most timid of butterflies, curious and interested in equal measure. It must be so easy for both of them to pick up, but you can't really help it–the idea of such a sweet professor pursuing such a lewd scholarly topic is…fascinating, to say the least.

"He does. In great detail." Nick leans over to whisper into your ear, and the air in the room seems to change as Raven squirms anxiously in his seat.

"I-It's a necessary component of my research…" He mumbles, suddenly unable to meet your eyes as the heat in his face stretches to reach the tips of his pointed ears.

"So necessary." Nick adds with a shit-eating grin.

"Nicholas!” Raven finally huffs, brow furrowed and eyes dimmed of their sparkle. Oh, now he's mad. And yet, with a glance over at your companion, Nick couldn't look more enthused about the prospect. They certainly seem to be on familiar terms with how much teasing your friend knows he can get away with. Ripples start to part Wellwright's feathers like shudders, and almost under his breath, he quietly asks if you would give him a moment with his T.A–and you have never been more quick to oblige, setting down your teacup at an earnest pace before your bag is slung over your shoulder and you're soon closing the office door firmly behind you. The click of the lock echoes in the otherwise empty corridor, and though you'd like to wait for Nick out of courtesy, the hushed whispering that ensues followed by the flap of your professor's wings clues you in that perhaps it would be better to give them some…privacy.

Although, at the very least your phone buzzes before you've even left the wing, a glance down at the messages revealing that Nick's gonna be tied up for awhile, but he's alright. His words echo in your head, “Wellwright's just a big puffball”, and it loosens a pleasant sigh from your throat as you let your shoulders relax. The last thing you want is to get anyone in trouble, which you seem to do quite easily by your very nature of being human.

This class may end up being a different story though, if your professor's…enthusiasm towards the human race is anything to go by.

#harpy professor #raven wellwright #raven wellwright x reader #harpy x reader #monster campus introductions #monster campus #monster boyfriend #faculty monsters #nicholas (mc)#werewolf team #ellie writes #3k

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qqueenofhades · 11 months ago

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as a starting history major i wanna ask how do you read/evaluate academic history papers/books? i'm trying to avoid just blindly agreeing with whatever the author is writing because it seems correct. how can you tell what is good scholarship and what is more shaky?

This is a great question for you as a freshman history major to ask (many of my toiling colleagues and I can attest that we wish more of you would!) and shows that you're already taking initiative and investment in your studies and want to be the best prepared you can. So truly -- thank you! Us on the faculty/staff/administrative end of academia can feel as if we are pouring into an empty bucket at times, and it's always gratifying to hear otherwise. We really appreciate it.

As a college freshman and/or underclassman (or so I'm assuming) your first job is learning how to collect basic information from the things you read, collate and cite them accurately, and make them converse intelligently with each other in an entry-level piece of academic writing (such as an essay responding to an assigned prompt). So before you have to worry about understanding complex nuance and granular-level fact-checking, the first step is just getting comfortable with academic forms, styles, and conventions. There's an occasional anti-intellectual strand of thinking that pops up on Tumblr, basically insisting that everyone everywhere should be able to understand everything in fifth-grade words and if not then it's Elitist Gatekeeping, but this is a symptom of TikTok brainrot where people's brains have been literally rewired to only process spoon-fed chunks of incredibly simplistic (and uh, often wrong) information, and literally can't parse anything longer, even if it's written in accessible language. Yes, many academics are not necessarily great writers, but you also have to let go of the mindset that you can speed-read once and understand everything. You will need to slow down, take your time, and make a note of concepts that are confusing or that you want to double-check, words you need to look up, and things that make you say "hmm I should look into that more," whether because you're interested or they seem questionable. I always read academic texts or papers (I prefer hard copy, because I am Fucking Old) with a pen in hand, because if I don't, I often feel like I didn't read it at all.

Basically, this is an interactive process between you and the text, and requires you to develop a different kind of reading mentality than just buzzing through a novel or fanfic for pleasure. You have to expect that it will take time and that if you regularly skive off the readings, you won't be prepared for class, your professors will be annoyed, and you won't be able to write good essays, because you haven't engaged with the material. In your case, it sounds like that will be less of a problem, because you are eager to know how to do it right, but I can tell you from my experience that nothing frustrates us more than students who just won't do the reading (and you know, use ChatGPT to write their essays) because then what are you even DOING here? What do you want to get out of this? Why are you wasting your precious tuition money like this? Yes, you probably have to fill a requirement, but STILL. It's disrespectful to your teacher, who has invested a lot of effort in being here to help you with this and doesn't want you to just quit because it looks hard, and your peers, and to you. So anyway, /Captain Holt voice/ apparently that's a trigger for me. Basically, if you learn nothing else from this ask: please do the reading. Even if it's only to admit you need more help or want to talk about this concept in class or otherwise take advantage of all the structures that are in fact there to help you understand it! Thankee.

Likewise, because you're an underclassman, you have an advantage in that your teacher will select the class readings for you ahead of time. That means you will be receiving things that a professional has already checked, decided are useful and trustworthy, and you don't have to do independent research and vetting yourself (that will come if you decide for some godforsaken reason to pursue graduate and/or doctoral study). So you don't need to spend tons of extra time and effort deciding if the sources given to you in class are reliable on a basic and functional level; your professor has already done the work for you to make sure that they are. Your job is now to read those sources, keep a record of what they say (hence the aforementioned pen or other way to make quick notes) and figure out how to put them together in an essay. For example, if Author A cites Factor A as, say, the main cause of the fall of the Western Roman Empire, and Author B insists that Factor B was in fact more critical, what is your best approach to reconciling that information? You would search in the rest of those texts to see what else they say in support of their position, and you would probably end up with a qualified statement to the effect of, "While Author A argues A, Author B thinks B, representing the lack of consensus and the difficulty in attributing one single cause to an event as complicated as the fall of Rome." (And then because you're smart, you would go on to mention Byzantium and the Eastern Roman Empire and show that you are aware of the further context.) All of which is true! Historians do that all the time! You don't need to select THE RIGHT ANSWER and vigorously discredit all other theories, ever, and we tend to look suspiciously on people who do (cough cough Philippa Langley).

In other words, we are certainly not expecting you as a freshman, and even as a more advanced student, to be able to pick out ONE ANSWER from the material. We just want to see evidence that you have in fact read it, are able to evaluate and place theories side by side and possibly make a judgment as to which one you find more compelling, and also to properly cite where you got that information. We've seen a lot recently about plagiarism and that being the pretext on which Harvard president Claudine Gay was forced to resign (which is a whole other can of worms, but never mind). A lot of professors think that saying "Don't Do Plagiarism" is enough, but then don't explain what it is and the different forms it can take. It's not just a matter of copying verbatim chunks of someone else's work (or you know, ALL OF IT, like certain recently discredited YouTube scumbags) and acting like it's your own. If you are relying substantially on someone else's work, whether in their wording, arguments, conclusions, structure, or anything else, even if you've changed some of the words (yep, still plagiarism!), that needs to be cited appropriately according to the relevant style guide. Direct quotes from anyone need to go in quotation marks or indented blocks and have the author cited immediately afterward. History usually uses Chicago, MLA, or MHRA, and you can find cheat sheets for how to do that online. It's a pretty simple and straightforward style, and your professor will be extra impressed.

If you're expected to do an independent project or a senior research thesis, as some undergraduate history students do, then it will come when you have already had three years of experience in reading, evaluating, and writing historical scholarship, you will probably have a faculty member assigned to you for one-on-one mentoring and personalized feedback sessions, and they will be able to provide suggestions and support for useful sources. So even then, you still don't have to do it entirely on your own. They'll probably also be MORE than happy to debate with you which ones are good and which ones are suspect, because it's all a part of developing your ability to flex that muscle for yourself. (And as noted, faculty members Will Have Strong Opinions.) That likewise doesn't mean you just have to copy whatever they say (at least if you have a good teacher who wants you to think for yourself and not just be a mini-clone of their pet theories), but it means that by the time you reach that stage, you will have been prepared enough to feel confident in taking more steps on your own. I think not enough people realize that studying history (or anything, really) isn't just throwing you out there and being like "tough luck sucker, do it all yourself."

That's why academia is so collaborative, why plenty of historians with doctorates and tenure will still have to say "I don't know, let me get back to you" when someone asks them a question at a conference, and you don't have to fear that if you don't have The One Right Answer, you will be immediately exposed as a fraud and thrown out. History as a discipline is also moving away from the 19th-century German approach that attempted to systematize it as a singular social science with One Right Answer, and to focus more on multiple perspectives and incomplete answers. That's why the goal is not necessarily to know everything (which alas, is impossible), but to make better sense of what we can know and search for ways in which the existing record is flawed and needs to be revised, expanded, or reworked with new perspectives (which have existed all this time, but haven't been privileged by the white male western academy for the obvious reasons). And that work is fun and important! I don't want you to be scared of getting to that point, because someone will be there to support you the whole way and by the time you do, it will make sense to you in a way it probably doesn't right now, just because it's a new skill and like any new skill, it takes a long time to learn and to be able to apply confidently, consistently, and at a high level. And plenty of us who do it as a career still often have to say "I don't know, let me ask Dr. So-and-so who specializes in this," so yeah. It's a process of becoming comfortable with both learning how to answer what we can, and to ask others for help with that, and it never really ends. Which is the fun part. There's so much more to do.

Good luck!

#anonymous #ask #history #school stuff #academia: not even once

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uhohwhathaveidone · 2 years ago

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hii !! im guessing ur open for requests?? if so ..I saw a tiktok abt harry coming late in potion class one day and complained how dracos cologne stank the whole room, I was wondering if you can make the same however with sebastian as draco and (fem or gn)reader as harry I've read ur amortentia fic but I wanted to see this as a fanfiction :)) thank you ^^

I SAW THAT TOO like way to go Harry, you played yourself.

Caramel (S.S)

How do you say caramel? I'm actually dyslexic, so I don't have the slightest clue if the way I'm spelling it matches how I pronounce it, but my mother and I often make fun of each other for it. Seh says care a mel. Pretty sure that's how I'm spelling it in this too, but I say Car mel. Just a little snippet about me, I suppose. Anyway, these two have such an obvious pinning for each other, Ominis just enjoys it. Enoy <3

“As I said before, I don’t think it’s wise to taste the potions you make, especially when you’re adding ingredients like stings to the mix!” You said, walking beside Garreth as you made your way to the potion’s classroom. The Gryffindor shook his head, smiling. “And I told you, it’s perfectly safe! It’ll taste just like the candy, honest.” You shook your head, sighing. “But if that was the case, wouldn’t it already be a product?” “Not necessarily! It’s entirely possible that they never thought of it.” “It’s even more possible that they tried the exact same thing you’re trying and found that it wouldn’t work.” You argued lightly, stepping into the classroom. You stopped partly inside, frowning as your nose burned, the scent of caramel filling your senses. You looked over to Garreth, pouting playfully as you narrowed your gaze. “Are you eating caramel candy, Garreth? Without sharing?” You asked, watching as the Weasley looked at you, confused. “No, why?”

You bit your lip, looking around the room for the source of the scent. “I smell caramel, I figured you had some.” You said, slowly walking around, finding the scent follow you. You turned to Sebastian, who spoke with Ominis with a concerned face, eyes widening when you began to make your way over. “Sebastian, you usually carry caramel candy, do you have any on you?” You asked, leaning up against the potion table, smiling. Sebastian checked his pockets quickly, shaking his head as he furrowed his brows, freckled cheeks tinted with a light shade of pink. “Nothing on me, why?” You let out a frustrated sigh as you turned your head to Ominis. “Do you smell caramel? The room is thick with it.” Ominis smiled as he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. You frowned, sniffing the air once more, a new scent mixing with the salted caramel. “Also smells like…a fire was just set? Garreth, have you already blown up a potion?”

Garreth shook his head, hands raised to show that he hadn’t touched the cauldron yet. You sighed, grabbing Ominis and leading him over to his own potion table. “Ominis, do you know why the room smells an awful lot like Sebastian? Did he find a spell or something that just amplifies it?” You asked, frowning as the smile on Ominis’ lips grew. “No idea, perhaps you should ask him?” Ominis stated, quirking a brow. You quickly shook your head, sniffling as the smell only grew. “Ask him? What do you want me to do, walk up to him and go Hey Sebastian! Do you know why the classroom smells like you?” Ominis chuckled, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t ask like that; you already said it smelled like him.” You bit your lip, looking around the room. Sebastian avoided your gaze as he listened to Garreth, who had taken to telling Sebastian all about his candy potion.

Sighing, you took a seat at your cauldron, shaking your head as you watched Professor Sharp as he sat at his desk, bubbling cauldron of his own sat before him. You peer over at Ominis, tapping his arm. He turned to you, the shadow of a smile still dancing on his lips. “Do you know what Sharp has in that cauldron?” You asked, taking another glance over at the professor. Ominis shrugged, biting back a smile as he forced a frown. “No idea, but I’m sure he’ll explain it when he starts the class.” You sighed, taking your book out and examining that chapter that you had left off on.

A few moments later Sharp clapped his hands together, signaling the start of class. “You might notice a change in atmosphere today, if you haven’t already.” He started, glancing around the room. You narrowed your eyes as he continued. “Today, we are not making any potions. Rather, you are not allowed to learn how to make this potion, due to the dangers that surround it.” You frowned, glancing over to Garreth as he watched, starry-eyed as he looked over at the cauldron. You shook your head, turning back to Sharp as he continued to speak. “What I have at my desk is a love potion called Amortentia, one of the most powerful of its kind.” You felt your heart sink, trying to remember the passage you had read that talked about said potion. “This potion works even without being consumed, it's vapor filling your sense,” he glanced over at you, “allowing you to smell what attracts you the most.” You felt your cheeks flare up, eyes wide as you choked on air, silently suffering as you watched Ominis chuckle. Garreth smirked as he looked over at you, glancing over at Sebastian, who’s eyes widened as well, the tint of pink that had finally left his face coming back full force.

Sharp continued the lesson, secretly enjoying the looks of horror that painted his students faces as they realized what they were smelling. “When consumed, the drinker becomes obsessed with the person, surpassing love completely.” He frowned, looking over his cauldron as he chose his next words. “If a child is conceived while under the influence of this potion, they will be unable to feel love or affection, leaving the child with a lack of compassion for anyone and anything.” He finished; his eyes dark. You frowned, who would trick someone into such a thing with a love potion? You shook your head, putting your book back into your bag, cheeks still warm as Sharp ended that class. You bid Ominis farewell as you quickly left the classroom, avoiding any and all eye contact.

Sebastian walked over to Ominis, poking him in the side. “You knew, didn’t you?” He hissed, referring to their conversation before you arrived. Sebastian had walked into the room, immediately smelling you. He had walked to Ominis, asking if you had arrived before him, to which Ominis shook his head. That was when he began to smile, telling Sebastian that you weren’t in the classroom. “If they’re not here yet, why does the room smell like them?” Ominis shrugged, the smirk that tugged at his lips growing. “I’m not sure what you mean, Sebastian. No one else has mentioned it.” Ominis teased, crossing his arms. That was when you walked in, talking with Garreth before stopping and looking around confused. Sebastian didn’t want you to know that he had thought you were already there, based off what the classroom smelled like, and felt his cheeks heat up as he avoided your gaze.

He had no choice but to meet your eyes when you walked up to him, his heart pounding as you leaned against the table next to him. You smiled sweetly at him, asking if he had any caramel candy. A weird request to most, but you had often told him that he smelled like caramel, causing him to carry around the small treats in case you had a craving for its salty sweetness. He had quickly checked his pockets, frowning when he realized he didn’t bring any with him, shaking his head as he watched you deflate slightly. He watched with wide eyes as you turned to Ominis, asking if he smelt the caramel that filled the room, who shook his head as his smile grew wider. “The air is thick with it.” You said, frowning as you looked around. As if his heart could beat any faster, it did just that, Sebastian’s thoughts racing. He was experiencing the same thing, only it was your scent that was thick in the air. Confusion settled on his face as he watched you frown once again, mentioning that it began to smell like a fireplace as well. His face grew warmer, unsure if he should speak up, knowing that one night, you had told him that he had smelled like cinders and salted caramel, and now you were smelling it again.

You had taken Ominis away, and Sebastian watched as you began whispering to Ominis, catching your eye for a split second. Sebastian had no choice but to listen to Garreth as he spoke about his new potion idea, not really paying him any mind as his words went in through one ear and out the other. He zoned out in that moment, thoughts continuing to roam as he tried to figure out the meaning behind what he was experiencing. It was only when Sharp began class that he had to quiet the thoughts and pay attention, glancing at the cauldron that sat on the professor’s desk.

“Who’s to say that I knew?” Ominis said, bringing Sebastian back from his thoughts. He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You were smiling as soon as I mentioned that the room smelled like Y/n!” “Did I? I must not have noticed.” “Don’t be cheeky, Ominis! Why didn’t you say something?” Ominis shrugged, smirking as he grabbed his belongings. “I found it rather fun, listening to you as you basically confessed that you had feelings for Y/n.” He began. “Imagine my amusement when they came in with Garreth, basically telling everyone about the caramel smell, the same smell you carry everywhere you go.” Sebastian scoffed; face hot as he shook his head. Ominis was right, however, being told by each of you that you had feelings for each other without even knowing it; oblivious to the other’s feelings. Sebastian breathed heavily, thoughts racing yet again as he tried to figure out what to do next.

“You’re rather daft, you know that?” Ominis said, shaking his head as he began to walk out of the classroom. Sebastian quickly followed, frowning. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Sir Know-it-All?” He grumbled, sending a small glare at Ominis. He shrugged, nodding his head down the hall. “It means that you both fancy each other, so go talk to them! I won’t stand here and listen to you whine about not having the guts to ask them out on a date.” Sebastian groaned, silently cursing Ominis as he took a deep breath. “Fine, but if this goes sour, it’s on you.” “Can’t see it being on anyone else.”

Sebastian wandered the halls, searching for you among the students. He cursed himself for taking too much time at the classroom, having seen you leaving as soon as you were dismissed. Imagine, you admitting that you were attracted to him, without knowing it, and him admitting that he was attracted to you. Surely Ominis had told you that Sebastian could smell you, you had talked for quite a while before class started. He shook his head, stressed as he continued to walk around. In an instant, you collided with him, yelping as you dropped you bag as watched as the books and parchment spilled from inside it. “Y/n! I’m sorry, I was preoccupied!” Sebastian exclaimed, helping you gather your items. You chuckled nervously, a small smile on your lips. “It’s fine, honest! I was a little distracted myself.” The two of you stood there for a moment in silence, unable to meet each other’s gaze.

“So-“ You cut Sebastian off. “Well, you were there. Now you know, I suppose.” You blurted out, cheeks red as you looked at your feet. Sebastian nodded slightly, smiling as he scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. Caramel.” He breathed, chuckling. You huffed as you crossed your arms, frowning. “Are you here to tease me about it?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek. Sebastian’s eyes widened as he shook his head frantically, placing a hand on your shoulder as he smiled. “No! I mean, well, did Ominis tell you?” “Tell me what?” “I could smell you in the room, even though you weren’t there!” You felt your chest swell as your heart beat faster, a small smile tugging at your lips. “So, we…smelled each other?” “That’s a weird way to say it, but I suppose so.” Sebastian responded, running a hand through his chocolate locks. You bit your lip, unsure what to do next. Sebastian took a breath, looking up at the grand ceiling above as he mustered up the guts that Ominis said he lacked. “Would you want to go to Hogsmeade? With me, of course. Like a-““Of course. A date to Hogsmeade sounds wonderful.” “Great, I wouldn’t know what to do if you had refused.”

#sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow imagine #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fluff #hogwarts legacy imagine #mutual pining #ominis gaunt #aesop sharp #garreth weasley

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m0rbidmacabre · 10 months ago

Text

The Latin Professor

You are a student of his, the cardinal… your crush seems to be getting out of hand and your embarrassment begins to rise as the cardinal offers to help you study for your upcoming Latin test.

1110 words

(Hey guys, I know it's been a long time since I have written anything… i guess this me trying to get back into the flow of writing. This part isn't very long.. But I wanted to introduce the characters, and how they are with each other before switching. This is probably only going to published on tumbler as my confidence is shot at the moment. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: none so far…

The Latin Professor

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part three

Cardinal Copia had never been the most popular of people, even when he ascended to cardinal in his early adulthood. People always saw him as uptight, scholarly and tiresome. You however… You didn’t see him that way, you saw a handsome, knowledgable man with an undeniably strong work ethic, but you kept your opinions to yourself, afraid your peers would jeer at you for your crush on the cardinal.

This particular day you were working hard in the library, studying for your upcoming language assessment in Latin. You were starting to think that taking the extra course wasn’t the best of your ideas. It wasn’t that you were inept of learning, it was the fact the Cardinal taught the latin class, while you admire him for his efforts in trying to teach you... The class always ended with you daydreaming about him. He would be stood teaching you, making sure your pronunciation was perfect, and all you could think about was how you would like his hands all over you and his perfect mouth in places that would make lucifer himself blush. This often leads to you losing your train of thought and embarrassing yourself even more in front of him. The cardinal most likely thought you were ditsy, a poor student, but if he did… he never let you think that. His praise was never something he kept to himself around you.

As you were flicking through the pages of Latin for dummies, your head in your hands as you struggle to take in the words on the page in front of you, you hear a small cough from behind you. You let out a big huff in annoyance, the last thing you needed right now was siblings bothering you when you needed to study. you slam the book closed and turn in your seat. Your anger quickly turning to embarrassment the moment you notice that it wasn’t a sibling, but the cardinal stood behind you.

“Are you studying hard for your test Sorella?” the cardinal said to you as your face turned a beetroot shade of red.

“I am cardinal, yes. I’m sorry, I thought you were a sibling” you quietly reply shifting in your seat and tidying up your hair... Anything to keep yourself distracted from the awful truth you had just huffed at him. Keeping your temper in check was never your strong suit and you had just shown that to the person you admire most.

“Si, Si… Why don’t you take a break from your studies? You seem frustrated. I hear the gardens look beautiful this afternoon. Would you like to take a walk? I could help you with your studies.” The cardinal offering a small smile to you, his attempt at comforting you, not once questioning your temper.

“Oh, erm… are you sure? Are you not too busy? You quickly answered him, in an attempt to remind him of his duties, in another attempt to avoid him.

“Oh Sorella, I could take some time for my favourite student, si?” he beamed back at you. You felt your stomach grow warm the moment he called you his favourite student, how could you say no? you simply couldn’t.

“Okay…” you smile at him picking up your books, and then offering him your hand to help you up. He obliges and as you stand up, he tucks your arm into his keeping it effortlessly close to him.

Walking though the ministry you both barely say more than a few words to each other. Both of you happy to walk in comforting silence. You steal a glance at the cardinal as you both reach primos gardens, his eyes firmly on the path in front of you both... You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked when he walked with purpose. “The gardens do look beautiful today, maybe a little more because you’re here…” you thought to yourself as the smile eclipsed your lips.

“How about we sit here Sister?” the cardinal asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Erm... Sure, sure” you quickly answered, hoping he didn’t notice the fact you were completely lost in thought.

You both sat down under the willow tree together, the sun making its presence known, casting shadows on the ground that dance though the low-hanging leaves of the tree.

The cardinal turns to you “et soror, ubi incipimus?” (so sister, where do we start?)

You smile at him; you love hearing him speak Latin, he always speaks with such passion. You pull out your book and flick though the pages, looking to formulate an answer for him.

“lets 'legere cardinal” (let's read Cardinal) you goofily answer him. Your answer made him smile so sweetly at you, he always liked your willingness to try.

“Perfect, Sorella!” he answered you. You smile at him, his praise sending you a little pink.

You carried on flicking the pages of the book, and the cardinal sat close by, his legs crossed under his cassock. Your eyes darted the pages as you both sat together.

“Now sister, tell me, how do you say beautiful”

“Pulchra, Cardinal” you answered him, quickly.

“Si… Sister, now can you write it for me?”

You take out your pen and set about writing out the word beautiful, the cardinal shifting in closer to watch that you are doing it correctly. You spell out the word on your pad, saying the word as you write... Mimicking each letter as you spell it. The Cardinal smiles at your efforts and leans in “you see this here Sister? It should be written like this… if you don’t mind...”. Taking your hand, he corrects the word you had just written, lovingly moving with you as you both spell out the words together. “Like this…” he adds, smiling at you. Your eyes drift to the pen and your hand, his hand is placed around yours… and all you can do is look with the embarrassment slowly setting in. You quickly remove your hand, the pen falling to the page and the cardinal removing his just as fast as both of your eyes meet.

“Sorella, I’m sorry... I was only trying to help” the cardinal said to you shyly, his own embarrassment setting in. His face hinting at a pink tint as he waits for your reaction.

“No, cardinal… it’s ok... I have to go... I’m sorry...” you collect your book, slamming it shut and getting to your feet. Running away from the scene before you die of embarrassment. You ache to look back, but your heart won’t let you as you quickly run through the ministry and slam your dorm room closed behind you.

#the band ghost #ghost #ghost fandom #ghost bc #ghost fanfiction #cardinal copia #papa copia #papa emeritus 4 #fanfic #copia my beloved #popia copia #copia emeritus #copia x reader

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 1 year ago

Text

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 7

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, idiots in love, pining... so much pining

Word Count: ~3800

A/N: As promised, here's the 2nd half of Chef Matt & Reader's Sunday afternoon together! Enjoy!

And thank you as always to @theradioactivespidergwen for the super cute divider she made for me!

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

Where the hell are we going? you wondered as you and Matt headed away from Clinton Church.

It wasn't like you weren't afraid he was taking you off somewhere to murder you -- you truly did feel safe with Matt and hadn't been lying when you had said that you trusted him. "Any hint as to where we're going?"

Matt shook his head. "I know it sounds weird, but I'd rather just show you, if that's okay?"

You nodded. It seemed important to Matt that your destination remain a mystery, so you decided not to push. "Okay."

You continued walking past various shops and storefronts until finally Matt stopped. "Okay, we're here."

You peered at the faded letters on the door.

Fogwell's Gym

You remembered Matt saying that he frequently worked out after service, but couldn't quite understand what was so special about the location that required the need for secrecy. Well, at least that explains the gym bag.

Matt pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door before stepping inside. "Come on in."

You followed him into the darkened gym and waited as he turned the lights on before looking around.

Cubbyholes lined the wall to the left of the door while several punching bags hung to the right. A large boxing ring was situated in the middle of the room, with wooden steps leading up to it.

Matt gestured towards what you assumed was the locker room. "I'm going to go get changed into my workout clothes. Be right back."

You nodded. "Okay."

While Matt was in the locker room, you took the opportunity to look at the flyers advertising various past boxing matches tacked to the wall. Johnson vs Lewis, Conway vs Roberts, Creel vs Murdock…

You sucked in a breath, reaching out to touch the poster. Creel vs Murdock. Now it makes sense.

You heard Matt come out of the locker room and set his bag down.

"This is where your dad trained, isn't it?" you asked, your eyes still on the poster.

You heard Matt sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

You turned towards him and froze. As handsome as he was while wearing his chef's coat and black slacks or a t-shirt and jeans, he was even more gorgeous in a black tank top, gray sweatpants, and tennis shoes.

Your gaze drifted up to his face. His glasses were gone, revealing beautiful hazel eyes that were fixed in your direction.

Matt must've felt you staring at him, because he ducked his head and began rummaging through his gym bag. "I, uh, I started coming here back when I was in culinary school," he explained. "I was struggling during my first semester and thinking about dropping out, so I came to the one place I knew where I would feel close to my dad to see if I could figure out what he would say."

He took out a small bundle of what looked like Ace bandages and began to wrap his hands. "I was having a particularly bad day that day -- there was this one professor who had been giving me a hard time about my need for certain accommodations -- so I began to take my frustration out on a punching bag."

You had found when people started to open up it was better to just let them keep talking rather than interrupt with questions, so you remained silent.

"With each punch I could hear my dad telling me that he was proud of me," Matt continued as he finished wrapping one hand and started on the other. "And that Murdocks never give up no matter how hard things get. So I decided to stay in culinary school and work my ass off to prove that I have what it takes to be a great chef and make my dad proud of me."

Before you could second-guess yourself, you walked over to Matt and wrapped your arms around him in a hug.

You thought for a split second that you might have crossed a line, but before you could let go and apologize Matt relaxed into your embrace, circling his arms around you and tucking his face into your neck.

You held him briefly, then let go and stepped back.

Matt began to redo the wrap that he had begun, keeping his face turned downward. "I've, uh, I've never actually told anybody about that before. Not even Foggy."

Your heart constricted. You couldn't even begin to imagine the hardship that Matt must have had to go through in order to prove himself as a chef. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

Matt paused. "I don't suppose I can ask you to keep that off the record, can I?"

You nodded. "I will, if that's what you want. It'll stay just between us."

Matt huffed out a breath. "Thank you."

You sat on the bench as Matt moved in front of the punching bag. "So, I suppose you're going to show me some moves, huh?"

Matt chuckled. "If you'd like."

You watched as Matt did a few stretches, appreciating the way his biceps flexed as he moved. And if your eyes drifted southward, well… you were only human. Cake, indeed. One could bounce a quarter off of that ass.

Your eyes snapped back to Matt's face, which bore a small smirk.

He reached out and touched the punching bag, found the center, then adjusted his stance, raising his fists in front of his face.

You watched in fascination as he skillfully maneuvered his way around the bag, landing punches as if he was squaring off against one of the greatest fighters of all time. He certainly doesn't fight like a blind man.

Finally he paused, chest heaving.

He steadied the punching bag. "Would you mind handing me that towel, please?"

You resisted the urge to lick the sweat off of his neck. "Oh, uh, yeah, sure."

You handed the towel to him. "So are you sure you haven't had professional training?"

Matt grinned as he wiped his face and neck down with the towel. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He draped the towel around his neck and picked up his gym bag. "I'm going to go take a quick shower and change, but I'll be back in a minute, if that's okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah, of course."

While you waited for him to return you checked your phone for messages, replying to an email from an artist you had featured a few weeks prior thanking you for your article.

You put your phone away and stood, glancing briefly over at the entrance to the locker room before walking in front of the punching bag.

You closed your eyes, curled your right hand into a fist, and swung, missing the bag completely.

You opened your eyes, frowning. Maybe I wasn't close enough.

You moved a bit closer, then closed your eyes again.

You swung at the bag, this time barely connecting.

"...Your stance is off."

You gasped and whirled around, a hand flying over your chest. "Jesus, Matt, you scared me."

Matt stood next to the boxing ring, this time dressed in a dark blue t-shirt that clearly showed off his muscles and dark blue sweatpants.

He smiled softly at you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

You shook your head, trying to calm your racing heart. "It's alright. I was just… um… just…"

"Trying to figure out how a blind man can hit a punching bag so easily?" Matt nodded in understanding. "I probably should have told you, but I'm not actually completely blind."

"Oh," you replied, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, I just assumed…"

Matt shook his head. "It's okay. The chemicals that got into my eyes basically fried my synapses, so whatever is directly in front of me looks like a black mass and the rest of my line of vision is what I can best describe as a 'world on fire'."

He tapped the side of his glasses, which you had belatedly realized were back on his face. "The red lenses help neutralize that part."

You huffed out a light laugh. "And here I thought you just wore them because they made you look cool."

Matt grinned. "You think they make me look cool?"

More like slightly mysterious and incredibly hot. Your face heated slightly. "Eh, maybe a little."

Matt shook his head with a chuckle. "Ready to head out?"

You nodded. "Mmhmm."

Matt gestured towards the door. "After you."

"So, where to next?" you asked as the two of you headed outside.

Matt shook his head. "Actually, that was my last errand."

"Oh." You couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed that you had to go your separate ways. "Okay, so I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, tomorrow." Matt bit his lip. "Um, that is… unless you'd like to have dinner with me tonight? My place? My apartment's not too far from here."

You nodded, unable to keep a smile off of your face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd actually really like that."

Matt unfolded his cane. "Great! I mean, it's the least I could do after you helped me out this afternoon at the soup kitchen."

Your heart sank slightly. Of course he meant it as a thank-you, how else would he have meant it? "Oh. Um, it was no problem. I was happy to help."

Matt turned the opposite of the way you were facing. "This way, then."

As you headed down the street, you couldn't help but entertain the thought of Matt having invited you over for dinner not because he felt obligated to as a thank-you, but because he hadn't been ready for your time together to end either.

You mentally shook your head. It's just as a thank-you for helping him out at the church, that's it.

…You just wished it hadn't been.

Why the hell did I say that? Matt thought to himself as the two of you walked towards his apartment. He'd had every intention of asking you to have dinner with him as a (sort-of) date, but the second you had said yes he had second-guessed himself and blurted out the bit about it being as a thank-you for helping him out at Clinton Church.

He mentally shook his head as the two of you stopped at a crosswalk. Maybe I can fix this.

Before he could say anything, you cleared your throat. "You know, I'm sure you're tired and I don't want to be an inconvenience, so I actually think I'll just head ho--"

"No!" Matt shook his head. "I mean, no, it's not an inconvenience. I was going to make something to eat when I got home anyway, so it's not a problem to make an extra serving."

He inwardly cringed. Way to make things worse. "Actually, what I meant was that I've really enjoyed your company today and would like to have dinner with you."

He could feel you relax. "I've enjoyed your company today too," you admitted softly. "If you're sure it's not a big deal…"

Matt nodded. "I'm sure."

"Then okay. I'd love to have dinner with you."

Matt smiled in relief. "Great. And actually now that I think about it, I do have one more stop before we get back to my apartment. I need to harvest some herbs from my plot at the community garden, but it'll only take a minute."

"Okay."

The two of you continued on as the crosswalk signal beeped and changed to walk .

"So what kind of herbs do you grow?" you asked.

"All sorts of culinary varieties," Matt replied. "Rosemary, thyme, basil, lavender, and mint."

"Oh, cool."

Matt nodded. "Unfortunately I have to outsource my herbs for the restaurant since I don't have the space to grow the amount that we would need, but this works for my own personal use."

He slowed as you reached the garden. "Welcome to the Hell's Kitchen Community Garden."

"Oh wow," you said. "I never even knew this was here."

Matt led you down the center path then to the right, following along the fence line to his plot in the back corner. "It hasn't been here too terribly long, maybe six months or so."

"And you said Claire from the farmer's market runs it?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah. She petitioned the council to turn the property into a community space and keeps track of who has which plot and everything."

You hummed. "I might have to talk to my boss about covering the community garden for the paper too. This is really neat."

"That would be great. It definitely would raise more awareness and hopefully bring more funding for upkeep." Matt stopped in front of his plot. "This is mine."

He knelt down and felt his basil plants before picking a few leaves and placing them into a small storage container he kept in the side pocket of his gym bag. "All set."

He led you back out of the garden and down the street towards his apartment building, frowning at the distant rumble of thunder. Well, there goes my plan to have dinner on the roof. "Sounds like it's about to rain."

"Yeah, it does seem like it's getting a bit cloudy," you replied. "Is your place much farther?"

Matt shook his head. "No, it's just up ahead."

"Oh, okay."

You walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

"Okay, here we are," Matt said as you reached his apartment building.

He led you to the elevator and pressed the button for his floor, the sound of rain beginning to fall as the elevator began to ascend. "Sounds like we made it just in time."

"Yeah, thank goodness," you replied. "I wasn't expecting it to rain so I didn't bring my umbrella with me."

You can always just stay the night… Matt shook his head. "I have one you can borrow if you need to, or I can call you a cab if it's still raining hard when you leave later."

He took his keys out of his pocket as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. "This way."

He led you down the hall to his apartment and unlocked the door, then opened it and ushered you inside as another roll of thunder rumbled overhead.

He closed the door and dropped his keys into the bowl on the side table in the entryway before folding up his cane and setting it next to the bowl. "Come on in."

He tried to ignore his sudden nervousness. It had been a long time since he'd had someone who wasn't Foggy or Karen in his personal space and hoped you wouldn't judge how barren his apartment was.

He turned on the lights then headed to his refrigerator. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Oh, um, sure," you replied. "Whatever you're having is fine."

He heard you walk over to the large window in his living area as he pulled out 2 bottles of beer along with a block of pecorino cheese and some pancetta. He had gotten an incredible deal on his apartment because of the gigantic neon sign that was situated on the roof of the neighboring building, so he was sure that was what you were looking at.

He quickly washed the fresh basil he had picked and patted it dry, then set the cheese and pancetta down on the kitchen island before popping the tops off of the bottles and walking over to you. "Here you go."

Your fingers brushed his as he handed you the bottle, a now-familiar tingle coursing through Matt's veins. "Thank you."

Matt swallowed and took a sip of his beer. "Quite the view, huh?" he said, gesturing out the window.

You huffed out a laugh. "It's very, um… picturesque."

Matt shook his head with a grin. "Funny, that's exactly how the real estate agent that sold me this place described it." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I have a feeling she might not've been telling me the truth though."

You laughed again. "Okay, it is a bit obnoxious."

Matt chuckled. "I really do keep meaning to get some blackout curtains, but since it's just me it's never really been a bother."

You hummed. "I honestly don't mind it. It gives your apartment an interesting glow."

Matt could imagine the two of you together on his sofa, the glow of the billboard the only light in the darkened room as he gently caressed your cheek, your lips inches from his own--

He mentally shook his head and gestured to his kitchen island. "Have a seat and I'll get started on dinner."

He heard you sit as he began to gather the rest of the ingredients, placing the eggs he had taken out of his refrigerator that morning into a bowl and setting it on the island before washing his hands and filling a pot about halfway with water.

He set the pot on the stove and seasoned it with some salt, then turned the burner on high to let the water boil.

He crossed back to the island and roughly chopped the fresh basil he had picked, then quickly whisked together 3 egg yolks and an entire egg before grating a generous amount of cheese into the mixture, giving it an additional stir before setting it aside.

He could feel you quietly watching him as he unwrapped the pancetta and began cutting it into small cubes, unable to help but wonder what you were thinking. You'd had the same focus the day before when he had made your crepes, but you had been recording your conversation then and had asked questions about his culinary process. This felt… different. More personal, like you were deep in thought.

He cleared his throat. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"What?" You startled slightly. "Oh, sorry, it's nothing. Just trying to figure out what we're having for dinner."

You were lying to him, but Matt couldn't figure out exactly why or what about. "Oh, I'm making spaghetti carbonara. It's traditionally made with guanciale, but my supplier was out, so pancetta will have to suffice for today."

"Your supplier… Oh, right, Frank, wasn't it?"

Matt shook his head then moved back to the stove, dropping the spaghetti into the pot of boiling water before moving the pancetta to the pan. "He doesn't do cured meats. I get those and other specialty items from Nelson's Meats."

You made a curious sound. "Nelson… as in Chef Nelson?"

Matt nodded as he stirred the pancetta around. "Foggy's family owns it. Best capicola in the tri-state area."

He finished cooking the pancetta and turned the skillet off, then scooped some of the pasta water into a measuring cup before draining the pasta and adding it to the pancetta. "Dinner's almost ready if you want to move to the table."

"Okay."

As you moved to Matt's dining table, he gave the egg mixture another stir before pouring it into the pan, adding a bit of the pasta water and using tongs to mix it all together.

Once it was a perfectly smooth consistency, he added some freshly-ground black pepper and separated it into two bowls before adding an extra sprinkle of cheese and some chopped basil on top of each serving.

He placed a fork in each bowl, then brought them over to you, setting yours in front of you and his in front of his spot across from you. "Dinner is served."

You gave a slight gasp. "Oh my goodness, Matt, this looks amazing."

"Thanks." Matt quickly grabbed two wine glasses and gave them a quick rinse before taking a bottle of Pinot Gris out of his refrigerator and pouring you each a glass.

He set your glass down before sitting across from you. "The beer we were drinking doesn't really go with carbonara so I've selected a wine pairing, if that's alright?"

You gave a hum of affirmation. "Of course it's alright."

Matt nodded. "Okay, well, enjoy."

He waited nervously as you took a bite.

You let out a pleased sound. "Oh my goodness, this is so good."

Matt grinned in relief. "Yeah?"

"Yes, absolutely. Everything you've made for me so far has been amazing."

"I'm glad." Matt took a bite of his own carbonara, the silky smoothness of the sauce pairing perfectly with the crispy pancetta and al dente noodles. "It's not quite traditional carbonara but it's very close."

"Right, you said it's traditionally made with guanciale."

Matt nodded. "And no herbs are usually added, but I like the flavor a bit of fresh basil adds to the dish."

"Mmm. Mmhmm. Yeah, I like it too."

You both continued eating and once you were done, Matt stood. "Here, I'll get this for you."

"Thanks."

"I'm afraid I don't have any dessert prepared, but would you like another glass of wine?"

"Yeah, I'd love one."

Matt grabbed the bottle of Pinot Gris and refilled your glasses. "Care to go sit on the couch?"

"Sure."

You took a sip of wine as the two of you sat together on Matt's sofa. "I really like your apartment, by the way. It suits you."

Matt shook his head with a small smile. "It's not much, but it's home."

You huffed out a laugh. "It's not what I originally expected, but to be honest, neither were you."

"Oh?" Matt turned towards you. "And what did you expect?"

"About you or your apartment?"

"Mmm, both, I suppose."

"Well, had I based my idea of what your apartment would be like on my first impression of you it would've been cold and industrial with no heart."

Matt winced. "Ouch."

"However, having gotten to know you over the past few days I would say warm and inviting with a certain charm."

A smile spread across Matt's face. "You think I'm charming?"

"Your apartment? Very. You? Maybe a tiny bit."

Matt smirked at the teasing tone in your voice. "A tiny bit? I guess I'll just have to work harder on charming you then."

You let out a light laugh. "No need, I'll send you a copy of my article before publication anyway."

"Okay, thanks." Although that's not the reason I want to charm you.

You finished your glass of wine. "And speaking of my article, I should probably get going -- I have to be at the Bulletin early tomorrow for our weekly staff meeting."

Matt nodded and stood. "Here, I'll walk you out."

"Thanks for inviting me along today," you said softly as you reached the door. "I had a really great time."

Matt nodded, unable to keep a smile off of his face. "I did too."

"I'll see you tomorrow evening?"

Matt nodded again. "Six o'clock?"

"Yeah, that sounds perfect."

"Okay, great."

The two of you stood there for a moment longer. Finally you reached out and gave Matt a brief hug. "Goodnight, Matt."

Matt hugged you back, committing what he could of you to memory. "Goodnight."

He waited as you let yourself out, an idea forming in his mind.

…He just hoped he was able to pull it off.

#lotmf writes #Cooking Up Love Masterlist #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x you

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jaylienpotter · 1 year ago

Text

Part 4 of Let them be | 1k words

> Part 3 | Part 5 (to come) <

Credit to @starsarestories for suggesting including Hagrid in marauders fics!

Let people want none

"Comin'!" With a loud creak, the wooden door opened wide. "Ah, Peter! What'cha doin' here? Come in!" Rubeus Hagrid was a half giant who was Hogwarts' gamekeeper. He was extremely sweet, despite his intimidating figure. He had guided Pettigrew and Potter on their first day there and they quickly warmed up to the hairy man. Peter went to his cabin from time to time.

"Hello Hagrid. I'm honestly hiding from my peers, you're a calmer presence so I came here. Hope that's alright?"

"O' course! Hungry?" The man infamous for his cooking skills. If Hagrid invited him for tea, he felt bad refusing, eating the rock hard pastries he made. The flavour wasn't bad. It was just hard to chew.

"No, thank you."

"Tea?"

"Yeah, alright. Thanks." He prepared the tea and sat opposite to the student.

"So. What'cha hidin' for? Did ye get into a fight?" No, but he had been further from starting one.

"No. It's just… It's James. He keeps messing with me, saying I fancy this person. But I don't! And it's really frustrating…"

"Ye told him that already?"

"I keep telling him Benjy and I are just friends- Benjy is the one I'm talking about. Benjamin Fenwick, Ravenclaw, a year above." Hagrid nodded once, maybe he knew Ben. Or he was just being polite. "But James doesn't believe me. Says I'm in bloody denial. But I don't like Benjy that way!"

"Yer just not gay, that's alrigh'. Ye can be close to a friend."

"It's not that… I never fancied anyone. At all. Girls or boys. Sybill liked me at one point and she's sweet and passionate and pretty but… I just don't feel it. Maybe I'm broken…"

"Nonsense! Yer so young, ye'll find the right person, don't worry boy." Wormtail exhaled after taking a sip from the hot wonky mug.

"You don't understand, I… I don't think I'm capable of feeling that, you know? Like… everyone is coupling now. James is head over heels for Evans as usual. I think she's gaining a liking for him, which will make him impossible to be with. Marlene and Dorcas are a couple. Oh, Remus and Sirius got together by the way."

"Ah, did they? Good for 'em. I think they make a good couple."

"Yes, finally. They're two oblivious idiots. But anyways. Everyone is all lovey-dovey and I just… don't get it? I don't see what's so special about being in love. If anything it seems annoying and disgusting. And everyone is expecting me to join in but I don't want to…"

"Then don't. Simple. Ye gotta learn not to fall under pressure, Peter." He did have a point. Saying 'no' was a very difficult task.

"But what if I never feel fulfilled?"

"Lemme tell ye a secret, Pete. Ya don't need a partner nor family to be happy. I'm happy and haven't had a girlfriend since my years at Hogwarts. It's just been me and my animals. It's enough for me. Some people, like James, need love to feel fulfilled but not everyone. Some people don't care about it or do not wish for it. One example is Professor Mcgonagall."

"She's never had a partner?"

"Not as far as I'm aware. She much rather have her space and doin' other things. An' that works. Maybe it's what works for ye too." His head of house was a brilliant witch. Tired, for sure, but who wouldn't be when you have the Marauders as your students?

"I see… Maybe you're right. But how do I tell people? Everyone will think I'm odd."

"Just say ye don' feel that attraction. Ye prefer friendship. Or don't say nothin'. Ye don't owe anyone explanations, yeah? Do what feels best for ye." Wormtail relaxed. He needed to hear it. That he wasn't broken. He wasn't the only one like that. And it was okay.

"Thanks, Hagrid. I'm glad I came to talk to you."

"Anytime. Always good to have som' company. Ye welcome to come over whenever, alright?" The boy smiled and nodded, finishing his tea and saying his goodbyes.

"You won't believe it! I got my hands on an Incredible Hulk! Can't wait to read it!" He might not have been a scholar like Remus. And big literacy books were boring to him. Comics, however? He owned a huge collection. Marvel was his favourite.

"That's great! You'll have to tell me about it when you finish." Benjy was the only one really willing to listen to him ramble about the things he liked. James read comics too, but it was hard to have a conversation about it, Prongs always ended up being the only one talking, too absorbed to notice he was cutting off Wormy. It wasn't his fault, yet it still made the short boy feel invisible. Not with Benjamin, though.

"You can read it afterwards, if you want. And then we can discuss it."

"Thanks but I prefer it when you explain it. You're cute when you're excited." Pettigrew wasn't stupid. He knew his friends were right when they said Fenwick fancied him. He would just rather pretend he didn't know. Pretend it's not true. Live in ignorant bliss.

"Oh, thanks. So uhm… Have you been drawing?" Ravenclaws were mostly known for their intelligence and academic values. What people often forgot was how it was also the House of creativity.

"Yeah, here and there." A comfortable pause followed, the mood shifted as soon as the silence broke. "Pete… Can I tell you something?" Oh no. No… No, please don't confess. Please. Everything was going so well…

"Sure, what's up?" His voice sounded casual, even though his stomach took a toll. If this was anything like what people described as 'butterflies in their stomach', Wormtail was glad he didn't feel attraction.

"You probably know this already- or you don't and are oblivious. But… I like you. As in I fancy you. Have been for a while." The Ravenclaw probably wasn't expecting that reaction. Maybe a rejection, an unsureness or if he got lucky, a kiss. Instead he was met with sadness. Pettigrew looked down, leg bouncing from anxiety. "Please say something…"

"I can't…" Voice broken, much how he felt inside. "I-I can't love like that… It's not-"

"'It's not you, it's me', heard that one."

"No, Benjy! Listen to me, please… I don't think I'm capable of having romantic feelings. I can't bring myself to be interested in any of those things. Kisses grosses me, couples annoy me, the whole societal norms in regards to love leave me bloody fuming! I don't know why I'm like this. I just really don't like that sappy stuff. It's not for me. And if I did like it and feel romantic attraction, I would've definitely dated you. It just doesn't feel right to be with anyone… I'm sorry for giving you any wrong signals…"

"It's okay. I thought there was something, sorry for misinterpreting our relationship." No, don't go!

"No! Benjy there is! Just because it's platonic doesn't mean it's not special! You're my best friend…"

"I… I thought it was the Marauders?"

"Well… James is sort of on your level. But you've been climbing your way up, I feel. Remus is a good friend and Sirius too but… Nothing compared to you. You make me feel loved, like I'm worth something."

"You're worth the whole world…"

"Then let's not change things… I'd really hate it if you stopped being my friend because of this…" No, go back inside! Bloody tears!

"Okay. If that's what you want, I'm happy to just be near you. We can keep our Wednesday tea dates. Platonically!" The small boy chuckled. Benjy was the best, he made everything better. Wormtail could always count on him.

"I'd like that." Ben opened his arms wide and Wormy walked there in baby steps until his head was against his friend's chest. He let himself be hugged, taken care of. "Are you mad?"

"At you? Never."

"I'm sorry for this. You're truly special, Ben."

"So are you. As a lover or a friend. So are you, Petey..." They stayed like that for a while. And then they carried as usual, their bond the same as before, if not stronger. Things hadn't gone the way Benjamin wanted them to, but the Marauder knew he got touched by being called a best friend. And Peter meant every word of it. Not loving romantically didn't mean not loving at all. Platonic love was just as important, just as intense, just as real.

#Can u tell its inspired by Heartstopper?#Isaac is my beloved #I already hc Wormtail as aroace bfr #But then Ravenrock came along #So this is a mix!#Hope you liked it hehe #peter pettigrew #benjy fenwick #rubeus hagrid #Hagrid #marauders fic #marauders #marauders era #the marauders #marauders fandom #harry potter marauders #dead gay wizards #aroace peter pettigrew #We stan Hagrid

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myhyperfixatedmess · 1 year ago

Text

Serpentine.

Tom is certain of many things, including the fact that he absolutely hates your guts.

Word count: 2.4k

Content warning: None that I'm aware of.

[This is my first time ever writing anything like this so I apologize if it's not very good, also Tom might be a bit ooc. I'm not entirely sure.]

Tom seethed with anger as his gaze fixated on you. The mere sight of you sent a surge of resentment coursing through his veins. Among his classmates, you were hailed as the epitome of perfection, and that only fueled his disdain. He detested the carefree way you danced, as if the world around you didn't matter, oblivious to anyone who dared to watch. Your smile, so radiant and seemingly untainted by pain, infuriated him. It was a constant reminder of his own hidden struggles. The way you effortlessly attracted attention, drawing others toward you like moths to a flame, further fueled his animosity. But what he despised the most was how effortlessly you had captured his attention, enough to evoke such intense hatred. The fact that he found himself fixating on you, scrutinizing every aspect he found insufferable, was a constant source of frustration.

Lost in his bitter thoughts, Tom was abruptly interrupted by Malfoy's voice, snapping him back to reality. Confused by the sudden attention, Tom's narrowed eyes shifted towards his classmates, who stared at him inquisitively. Avery, his mouth full, pointed in your direction, making it clear that Tom had been gazing at you for an uncomfortably long time. Annoyed with himself for being so distracted, Tom dismissed their concerns with a curt response, willing them to remain silent. The skeptical glances exchanged by his peers, however, indicated their doubt in his dismissive words.

Tom's loathing for you only grew stronger, especially as he observed you in the common room. Your infectious laughter, the soft waves of your hair framing your face, it all served as a constant reminder of his unwanted attraction. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he averted his gaze, disgusted with how easily you managed to capture his attention time and time again. Determined to ignore you, he resolved to focus solely on his ambitions, leaving you to your own devices. But even as he made this resolution, he couldn't resist stealing another glimpse in your direction.

Fate had a cruel sense of humor, as Tom found himself in your presence once more during Potions class. Professor Slughorn, in a particularly peculiar moment, decided to pair Tom and you together for an assignment. Suppressing his distaste, Tom watched with growing irritation as you approached him, wearing an infuriating smile and settling down beside him.

As you organized your materials, Tom yearned for the opportunity to work on the potion alone. It wasn't that he thought you incapable—quite the opposite. He was well aware of your exceptional brilliance, and that knowledge only fueled his resentment towards you. Handing him some ingredients with that same disarming smile, you provoked another surge of animosity within him. Tom wasn't foolish; he recognized that his hatred may have been unfounded. He was even mindful enough to admit that maybe he was unjust in his loathing. Yet, as you absentmindedly brushed against him, his anger intensified, the burning in his chest escalating to a blazing inferno. He stared ahead, refusing to acknowledge your presence, while inwardly seething.

Your gentleness was like salt on an open wound, an unwelcome contrast to his own inner turmoil. He couldn't stand the kind smiles you directed his way or the softness in your voice when you spoke to him. Unsure if you treated everyone with such tenderness, Tom hated every ounce of it.

And even now, as he silently directed daggers towards the side of your head, you remained unaffected. That ever-present smile adorned your face as you attentively listened to the professor. Perhaps you hadn't noticed his seething resentment, or maybe you simply didn't care.

Tom truly despised you.

Despite Tom's best efforts to bury his loathing and distance himself from you, fate seemed determined to test his resolve. The universe conspired to place you in his path, unrelenting in its mission to fuel his inner turmoil.

Days turned into weeks, and Tom found himself encountering you more frequently than he would have preferred. Your presence in the corridors, the library, and even in the Great Hall became impossible to ignore. Each time, his resentment swelled, festering like a wound that refused to heal.

It was during Defense Against the Dark Arts class that a peculiar incident occurred. The professor, caught up in an animated discussion with another student, accidentally assigned you as Tom's partner for a practical exercise. Tom's heart sank as the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. This forced collaboration would inevitably tear down the walls he had so meticulously built around his feelings.

Reluctantly, you approached him, that ever-present smile adorning your face as if it were a permanent fixture. Tom's blood boiled beneath his calm facade, his grip on his wand tightening as you settled in beside him. The instructions were given, and as you prepared for the exercise, you turned to him with genuine warmth in your eyes.

"I believe we can work well together, Tom," you said, your voice soft and encouraging. "Let's make the most of this opportunity."

Your words were meant to foster cooperation, but to Tom, they were like nails on a chalkboard. He wasn't fond of your unrelenting insistence to call everyone, even him, by their first name. He detested the way you effortlessly extended an olive branch, offering a glimpse of the goodness that resided within you. His own walls, built on bitterness and resentment, grew higher in response.

As the exercise progressed, you displayed a remarkable talent and unwavering focus. Your skills complemented Tom's own abilities, leading to a seamless collaboration that drew the professor's attention. You seemed unfazed by Tom's icy demeanor, treating him with a kindness he felt he did not deserve.

But beneath his icy exterior, Tom's emotions churned like a tempestuous sea. He couldn't comprehend why you insisted on being pleasant, even as he pushed you away with his cold indifference. It was maddening to witness your genuine care and empathy, qualities he struggled to understand, let alone reciprocate.

As the days went on, a part of Tom's hardened facade began to crack. He found himself observing you from a distance, catching glimpses of your interactions with others. Your infectious laughter, the way you lent a helping hand without hesitation, and the ease with which you forged connections—these traits only deepened his confusion and resentment.

Tom loathed the fact that you evoked a sense of admiration within him, despite his best efforts to resist. He hated how your mere presence had the power to make him question his own beliefs, to reevaluate the walls he had erected around his heart. And most of all, he despised how your kindness seemed to seep into the depths of his soul, stirring emotions he had long buried.

But as he watched you navigate through the complexities of life with grace and compassion, a whisper of doubt began to emerge within him. Could it be possible that his hatred stemmed from envy? Envy for the light that radiated from you effortlessly, while darkness consumed him from within.

As the war between his loathing and burgeoning curiosity raged on, Tom found himself at a crossroads. Would he succumb to the bitterness that had become his shield, or would he dare to explore the mysteries that lay beneath the surface?

Tom wasn't sure, he wasn't sure whether to embrace the light that threatened to illuminate his shadows or to retreat further into the darkness he had come to know so well.

In the midst of another Potions class, you took your usual seat next to Tom. As you settled in, Tom did his best to ignore your presence, casting only a fleeting glance in your direction to acknowledge your arrival.

During a break from Professor Slughorn's lecture, you turned towards Tom, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke.

"Hey, can you fill me in on what Professor said about the effects of Boomslang skin on a potion? I seem to have missed that part," you asked, your eyes fixed on his. Tom felt a sudden stiffness in his body, his mouth drying up as he struggled to maintain his composure. Though he yearned to brush you off and but he couldn't risk his carefully constructed reputation, he knew he couldn't afford to dismiss you so callously.

Resolute in upholding his image as a model student, Tom nodded and glanced back at his own notes.

"Here," he offered, sliding his notes towards you and pointing out the relevant paragraph with his quill. A genuine smile spread across your face as you expressed your gratitude, causing a flutter of unfamiliar emotions within Tom. He simply nodded in response and watched as you diligently copied the information onto your own parchment.

Tom couldn't understand why it was becoming increasingly challenging to maintain his hatred for you. He had built a part of his identity around loathing your very existence—your face, your smile, your gentle voice. Yet, the more he focused on you, the harder it became to justify his animosity.

A growing sense of unease settled within him. Something was undeniably wrong.

The week marched on and everything turned into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions for Tom. He found himself stealing glances at you when he believed no one was looking, analyzing the subtle curves of your face and the way your eyes lit up when engaged in conversation. Your infectious laughter echoed in his ears, tugging at a corner of his heart that he had kept hidden for far too long.

Tom wrestled with his feelings, torn between the comfortable familiarity of hatred and the unsettling allure of something new. His internal battle consumed him, tormenting his every thought. What was happening to him? How could a person he had once despised stir such conflicting emotions within him?

In the stillness of his thoughts, doubt wove its tendrils through Tom's mind, tightening like a constricting snake, threatening to suffocate him with its conflicting presence.

Unknown emotions swirled within him, a turbulent mix that challenged the very core of his being. The source of this upheaval? You.

For so long, Tom had reveled in his hatred for you, finding solace in the darkness it provided. But now, the lines blurred, and he found himself teetering on the precipice of something new and terrifying. A part of him yearned to embrace these unfamiliar sentiments, to explore the depths of his own vulnerabilities. Yet, another part clung desperately to the comfort of loathing, fearing the uncertainty that lay ahead.

You had become an enigma he couldn't decipher—a puzzle piece that refused to fit neatly into his predetermined narrative. Your presence, once a thorn in his side, now had the power to ignite a spark within him, casting doubt on the foundations of his carefully constructed persona.

With every stolen glance, every accidental brush of skin, his walls crumbled, exposing the rawness beneath. The once unyielding armor of hatred cracked under the weight of conflicting desires and buried longing.

It infuriated him. It terrified him.

He despised how you had effortlessly breached his defenses, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. It was as if you had unlocked a hidden chamber in his soul, releasing emotions he had long suppressed. He resented the power you held over him, the way you unsettled his carefully controlled existence.

Yet, even as Tom fought against these unfamiliar emotions, a small voice within him whispered of the possibilities that lay in embracing them.

He tried to bury the voice, banishing it from the recesses of his mind. It continued to whisper, he realized it wouldn't stop. Instead, it only grew louder, stronger. It demanded his surrender, his compliance, his acceptance.

As the tumultuous emotions surged within Tom, it felt as though he was losing control. The certainty he once held crumbled, leaving behind a profound sense of confusion. Like a question without an answer, he found himself adrift in a sea of uncertainty, searching for a guiding light that seemed elusive.

You were the catalyst for this internal chaos, the one who had unraveled the tightly woven threads of his convictions. Tom couldn't comprehend how you had managed to dismantle the carefully constructed fortress he had built around his heart. Your presence, once a source of loathing, now became the source of his bewilderment.

He felt lost—lost in the labyrinth of his own emotions, stumbling through the maze of conflicting desires. The hatred that had consumed him for so long had morphed into something else entirely. It gnawed at his insides, urging him to reconsider his preconceived notions and venture into uncharted territory.

It frustrated him to no end. He was accustomed to being in control, to understanding the intricacies of his own mind. But now, he stood at the precipice of the unknown, grappling with a myriad of feelings that defied explanation.

Tom yearned for clarity, for a resolute path to follow. He longed for the comfort of familiarity, for the ease of hatred that had shielded him from vulnerability. But with each passing day, that certainty slipped further from his grasp, leaving him teetering on the edge of an abyss.

And in the midst of his confusion, he couldn't help but place the blame on you. You had become the embodiment of his turmoil, the reason behind his internal disarray. The very thought of you filled him with equal parts fascination and trepidation.

Tom knew that something had to be done. He couldn't linger in this limbo forever. It was time to confront the chaos within, to find the answers that eluded him.

He took a deep breath, ready to face the enigma that was you, ready to delve into depths of his own soul. He had come to accept that what he was about to do, would likely change the plan he had so meticulously crafted for years. However, he knew something had to be done, before he went properly mad.

Tom needed answers, and the only person who would be able to provide them, was you.

Pt.2

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