#do not care that they waste it on such nonsense

[velvetvexations]

human trafficking anon here again people say i am 'cruel' for not having empathy for people who were hurt by men and now hate men. because they're traumatised and scared and whatnot and how dare i not have empathy for them hating all men but the thing is. when i see these people say 'fuck all men' 'all men are monsters' 'kill all men' all i think of is the little boy i grew up with in that trafficking ring (tw for child abuse, and mentions of child death ahead) this boy was my best friend. we were both being trafficked in the same area and at the same time and he was the same age as me. we both wound up spending a lot of time together and he got hurt FAR worse than i did. because he was more disadvantaged than me when i hear these people say 'it's insensitive for you to not understand why i hate all men. they're my oppressors i am allowed to hate them', i think of the little boy who i had to hold while he was wounded and sobbing. or while he limped over to me after being beaten over the most minor misbehaviour. i think about the little boy who grabbed my hand every time an adult came near because he was so fucking scared that they'd kill him this time and i think about the time we coloured in together. and the time we looked up at the stars together. and i think about all the times i hugged him and he hugged me back. i think about how he was so disadvantaged by society that there wasn't even a missing person's report made when he died. i think about how fucking easy it was for our organisation to make him disappear like he'd never existed at all and i think about how this constant 'all men are evil' nonsense spouted in leftist spaces helps absolutely fucking nobody. it is not productive. if your trauma leads you to hate an entire demographic of people so blindly then that is something you need to work on in therapy. hating an entire demographic helps absolutely nobody and when i see people spout this 'men suck. men are all abusive. i hate every man to exist' i just think about my best friend, that terrified little boy who didn't get to grow up because society turned their backs on him. and i can't help but think about how utterly fucking pointless it is to spend so much energy preaching hatred towards others online when there are such bigger things in the world. men existing is not the fucking problem. the patriarchy and misogyny is the problem. why waste your time posting about how much you hate men instead of doing something to help other victims

anon who got trafficked again radfems can bitch and moan at me about how 'erm i have the right to hate all men you're just mean for not sympathising with me for being traumatised' i do not give a fuck. yell at me all you want. it is not going to make me believe that hating an entire group of people for something out of their control is okay or normal. i really don't fucking care that men are given an oppressive position in society i still think it's fucking weird and ultimately unhelpful to hate 50% of the world's population also because! i used to BE the guy who hated men and was terrified of them! guess what changed! i went to therapy! i saw many many psychologists and psychiatrists! i spent time with my friends who were men! and i realised that it's not fair to hate random people for the horrific things that others did to me! it is not the fault of every man in the world that i got trafficked by a man! being cautious around others is understandable and okay. living your life with a vicious seething hatred and terror towards men is unhelpful and will end up damaging your psyche in the long run. the first fucking thing a psychologist ever told me was that living in terror and hatred of others is only going to hurt me in the long run. a life lived in terror and hatred is hardly a life at all

'i have trauma from men so i should be able to [insert cruel thing here]' is low key hilarious to me

i was trafficked as a child. a lot of the people who hurt me were men.

does this mean all men are evil? no. it means that more white rich cis men have the privilege required to get away with abusing children. because there were a significant amount of women who also hurt me

somehow, miraculously, me having trauma caused by men has not led me to hate every single man ever and decide that every single man on the planet is evil and irredeemable. if i can be literally trafficked by men and still not decide that i should be allowed to be as cruel and rude as i want then i think it is genuinely a skill issue when others decide they should be able to be as mean to men as they want

like. random individual men are not the problem. and irrationally hating every man ever is not going to solve anything

you're stronger than any US marine or radfem, anon

[askshivanulegacy]

you misread that aita post. they aren't digging up dirt on other people- they made the callout post about themself

No, I got that. Guess I wasn't that clear about it - I meant that they're digging up enough on other people to determine how those other people are enjoying a fandom and then judging them for it. If someone isn't enjoying the fandom in the right way (shipping the way that person wants characters to be shipped), then that person goes out of their way to bother people who reblogged their art with their own callout post.

I just think that:

If you're so obsessed about your own perfect way of interpreting fandom that you cannot stand it when other people who think differently reblog your art, you need a new life hobby.

If you HAVE to be so obsessed and controlling about who reblogs your stuff, there are ways to do that without bothering people until they delete the reblog, which is what the person is doing. Dunno about anyone else, but I would personally never delete the reblog out of pure spite. XD

These people who that person is targeting did absolutely nothing except enjoy the fandom the way it was presented to them, and the person is butthurt about it.

You actually should be grateful and appreciative when someone reblogs your art. You can't pick your audience and all different kinds of people are going to like your art and you need to make peace with that fact. Also??? it's a GOOD thing???? Like

Anyway. I get people think the asker was funny, but I just think they're being a gatekeeper and quite a bit dumb about outing themselves to random strangers online over something as trivial as a reblog. XD

This is tumblr and people reblog stuff. If you're here, you've GOTTA be okay with that. You can't go around wasting your time and energy trying to investigate who people are when they are having nothing to do with you other than them reblogging your stuff or you reblogging their stuff. If you can't, then this is not the platform for you.

[charmac]

What's your opinion on genderbent sunny?

[askshivanulegacy]

^^^^ THIS

You do not need makeup to be professional. You don't need makeup to have your photo taken.

You don't need makeup to be an "influencer" (which is a fake thing anyway).

I wonder how many women are convinced that they enjoy it and feel uncomfortable without it just because of beauty industry propaganda? Can they even separate their makeup-induced happiness from it?

If you feel uncomfortable around makeup girls, just remember that you've achieved more of what you care about with your time than they have. Be proud of it. Don't be ashamed to have a real face.

[nyxnco]

why did it have to be me

[charlesoberonn]

One quiet day on the farm, the Little Red Hen found some wheat seeds and decided to make bread.

"Who will help me plant these seeds?" the Little Red Hen asked.

"I would." said the Horse "But I'm a workhorse, and I'm too busy moving carts around."

And so the Little Red Hen planted the seeds by herself. And they grew into bountiful golden crops.

"Who will help me harvest the wheat?" the Little Red Hen asked.

"I would." said the Dog "But I'm a guarddog, and I'm too busy keeping away burglars and predators."

And so the Little Red Hen harvested the wheat herself and made it into flour.

"Who will help me bake the flour?" the Little Red Hen asked.

"I would." said the Pig "But I'm a mother of 5 newborn piglets, and I'm too busy taking care of my young."

And so the Little Red Hen baked the bread herself into twenty beautiful loaves.

"Who will help me eat the bread?" the Little Red Hen asked.

"We would." said the Farm Animals. "But we're ashamed, for we didn't do anything to make the bread."

"Nonsense!" said the Little Red Hen. "You, Horse, helped move around the stones that built my oven. You, Dog, kept me safe while I worked. And you, Pig, are raising a new generation of Farm Animals, who will too contribute to our Farm one day. You've all helped me so much by simply being you."

"Besides," the Little Red Hen added. "I couldn't possibly eat all the loaves on my own, most of them would go to waste. Come, eat with me."

And so the Little Red Hen and the Farm Animals ate the bread together. And all saw their own, and each other's, worth.

[retiredteabag]

The soul does not lie

synopsis: Sukuna allows tedious nonsense when he can feel your soul's cravings.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Though he hardly mentions it, Sukuna can, in fact, feel your soul in a way that a normal sorcerer never could. Knowing this helps to make sense of the fact that the man can always tell when you are distressed, even when you try to hide it.

You had discovered this little ability of his when he had come stomping in from the gardens one day while you watched unblinkingly at a horror film.

With your eyes only visible through the slots of your fingers you looked up to see him standing, arms crossed, in the entry way of his chambers.

"What is it that brings you fear?" He had thundered.

"W-what... no, nothing, I'm just watching a movie, see?" You flipped your phone around for the man too see but he did not take his eyes off your form.

"I do not repeat myself." His four eyes were squinted and his eyebrows arched in a dangerously attractive way.

"Kuna' it's a horror movie, that's all, I'm not really scared." You finally announced to the rolling of four red eyes.

"Your soul states otherwise." He quipped before drawing close to try and see what had your soul trembling so fearfully. He was disappointed, to say the least when he was unable to identify what was so "horrific" about your film.

And that marked the moment you realized that Sukuna was able to feel you in a way you could not understand.

Sukuna was NOT a gentleman, he was far, far from it. He loved to bring terror to the masses, very rarely did he allow another beings to so much as speak in his presence. He did, however, have "soft spots" for creatures that sparked his interest, and those remarkably loyal.

Even so, he did not make efforts to calm your nerves when you were anxious. He did not feel the slightest effect in his chest when your sorrow was palpable. He would certainly not allow for time to be wasted on your souls quivering's. That-was none of his concern.

It was not as if he was taking any actions when he allowed your pathetic "cuddling" nonsense when he felt the pangs of misery that surrounded your essence.

You had tried to hold him in the past but he did not see the use in wrapping oneself around another. Even so, he found himself pretending to sleep (even though he did not need it) when he sensed your desperation for his touch.

Likewise, when he could feel the shaky and childish excitement that bled from your soul when you were happy, he could not seem to help but humor you.

As mentioned, Sukuna does not require sleep like your helpless human form. Still, it was not uncommon for the king of curses to close his eyes, relaxing in his ultimate power. Be it when he bathes, when he is lounging on his palace's engawa, when he is seated on his throne, or even when he reclines himself along his chamber's bed.

Sukuna had his eyes closed one evening, feeling his power splay out from his body, grasping at the forms of everyone within his domain. When he sensed your spirit, quickly approaching his chambers.

He made the decision then to seem uninterested when you clambered through the doors.

He could hear the switch in your step as you drew in a breath, clearly forgetting what you had wished to say at the sudden image before you.

The bloodthirsty man had never looked more like a jungle cat, lying atop his bed in such a lazy fashion. He felt the exact moment your soul leapt. He knew you had covered your mouth as your heavy breathing had dulled despite your heartbeat climbing to unusual heights.

He knew of your antics. Having felt you chew on each of his biceps several times. You had that same giddiness now. It was simply that he did not care to move that he kept his eyes closed. Pretending not to notice as you took out your phone, your feet dancing around him. He'll allow you to take your ridiculous photos, he's too... relaxed... to... take issue with your senseless mischief.

He could tell you had finished when he heard you pocket your phone once more, your hands covering your beating heart, you leaned down, holding your breath. The king of curses had to keep himself from squishing his face in ....disgust.... as you planted a chaste kiss in the space between his lower eye and his upper lip.

"You're too precious." You quietly whisper. Brushing your hand softly through his hair. And Sukuna rolled his eyes behind his lids.

Such foolishness he has never seen. Even so- he will allow it.

[kyurilin]

"plan ahead for a healthy and happy holiday" YES THANK YOU CVS I TRIED TO PLAN AHEAD BUT YOU DROPPED THE BALL ON REFILLING MY ADHD MEDS FOR THE THIRD TIME IN 2023 and frankly if they fuck me over again on today the 29th when they've told me since the 18th that it will be ready i will be punching a pharmacist for flat out lying :)

[all4yoi]

𝒩ot a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw: each member ranges from 5-1k wc, fluff, lowercase intended, they swear, crying, uh someone kneels, not proud w heejake's 😞, not proofread ( lmk if i missed something! )

sypnosis : upon learning that you were merely the stake in a bet, they wasted no time in mending your relationship.

part one !

★ LEE HEESEUNG ( 0.8k wc )

"y/n wait!"

heeseung's voice only made you walk faster. you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by stopping and talking to him. all you wanted to do now was to just march out of the school, go home, lock yourself in your room and maybe eat a tub of ice cream while you ugly cry yourself to sleep.

"y/n, please." heeseung pleaded, taking your elbow in his grasp as he spun you around and pulling you closer to the point you can feel his breath on fanning your nose.

he looked at you pleadingly. "it's okay," you managed to say in a shaky voice. "i understand, you can all laugh at me all you want now-" he shook his head, "it's okay really!" you added, pursing your lips.

"i just want to be left alone now okay?" and even if he knew you didn't mean just 'now.' he'll respect your wishes and let you go, but he won't give up.

heeseung watched you walk away from him with a heavy heart, wanting nothing but to just explain everything to you before it was too late. he couldn't lose you, not like this.

when he couldn't see your figure anymore, he messily messed his hair and made his way back to the gym eager to teach a guy how to not spit nonsense.

it's been a week since that happened and a week since he's seen you in the school. he asked some of your classmates and club members but all he received were nasty glares and short cold answers. what happened between the two of you spread like wild fire the following day you walked away from him. everyone knew you were kind of a nerd, but they also knew you were a complete angel and had a heart soft as a pillow.

they also knew that betting on a person's feeling isn't exactly it. — more under the cut!

so throughout that week too, his popularity decreased day by day. he used to receive heart eyes on the hallways and joyful 'good morning, heeseung!'s by random students, now all he received were judgemental glances and they avoided him like a plague, scared to be the next target of a cruel bet.

he didn't care though, all he cared about was your wellbeing. it's been a week and you've still yet to show up to class, so imagine his surprise when you suddenly walk in to the room with your usual hair do, your bag slung over on your shoulder and your glasses almost falling off your nose bridge.

he sat up straighter, gulping as his eyes followed your every move. he could feel hear heart beating louder, as if it was calling for you, desperate to be near you again.

he needed to fix this, asap.

it felt like forever before heeseung heard the bell ring. as soon as he heard the annoying sound, he messily packed up his things and ran after you.

"y/n!" your forearm was then again grabbed by him. although this time, he turned you slowly. heeseung silently admired your face. he missed you so much.

"let me explain, please. it's not what you think. i promise." he whispered, vulnerability in his tone. the simple nod you gave was his signal to interlace his fingers with yours as he looked for an empty room.

you ignored the looks everyone threw your way, either worried and judging. all you could focus on was his warm hand on yours and how you missed it so much, you didn't even realize you both were now inside an empty classroom.

"there was no bet." you furrowed your brows, looking at him with mixed confusion and frustration. "i promise, there was no bet."

"why would they say that then?"

"i don't know, but i promise there's no bet. throughout the months we've been together everything i've said was real." he said, desperate.

heeseung stepped closer.

"what i felt for you was real," he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket, opening his messages app. "you can go through my phone all you want, ask any of my friends-" you raised a brow.

"not those friends! i mean sunghoon, jay, jungwon.. you know." your raised brow made him sputter. "to be completely honest, they've been ignoring me after they heard about what happened.."

you looked at him hesitantly as you scrolled through his messages with shaking hands. you scrolled for so long, you even reached to the messages months before you both got together.

he didn't have any messages to his basketball team group chat unless it was announcements from his coach. the group chat with his actual friends were only filled with his pining over 'the girl on the back of his biology class.'

"heeseung.."

"there's no bet, baby. i'd never do that to anyone." he whispered, stepping closer. "i can't lose you like this.. i love you."

you sniffled as you came crashing on his chest, letting tears fall again. heeseung immediately wrapped his arms around you, sighing in relief as he finally have you back in his arms.

"i was so worried baby." he mumbled, kissing your head.

"i love you forever. i'll kill everyone who tries to get in between us again," heeseung pulled you closer if it was even possible.

"and if they do, i'll make sure to fix everything even if it means the whole world would hate me."

★ PARK JONGSEONG ( 1.0k wc )

jay was confused.

the both of you had a very well planned date tonight, so he was utterly puzzled to see that you weren't responding to his messages. for heaven's sake, you didn't even read his messages, he was just left in delivered.

he had tried calling multiple times but was only met with your automated voice telling him to leave a voice message. it came to the point that he had enough and decided to drive to your house.

throughout the drive, jay wondered what could've happened. he couldn't think of anything that would make you upset like this, he hoped that you just fell asleep and forgot to have your alarm on.

walking up the porch of your house, jay rang the doorbell and was met with your mom who opened the door with furrowed brows when she laid her eyes on him.

"good afternoon mrs. l/n, is y/n home?" your mother's frown deepened, hesitantly looking at the stairs behind her before looking back at him. "i'm sorry jay, she said she doesn't want to see you?"

that caused jay to furrow his brows as well. "wha- may i ask why?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me." if jay was confused a while ago, he was even more confused now and frustrated.

"can i see her, please?" he pleads, the older woman hesitantly opened the door wider to invite him in, and before he could ascend up the stairs, your mom stopped him.

"jay.." he looked back. "i don't know what happened to you both but take it easy on her, alright? she's been crying, i can tell." jay gulped and only nodded, sending your mom a pursed smile.

he knocked on your bedroom door, when no response came, he tried to turn the knob and was thankful that it wasn't locked.

jay slowly opened your door, seeing you curled on one corner of your bed as your body shook from your sobs you tried to keep silent.

he could feel his heart break at the sight. stepping a foot inside the room, he mentally cursed at himself when he accidentally bumped on to your mirror causing your head to shoot up in alarm at the sound.

your already glassy eyes was once again filled with tears as your eyes met his. jay barely dodged the pillow you threw at him, screaming at him to "go away and never show your face to me again."

jay frowned and came closer until he was sat on the edge of your bed, ignoring the words you just shouted at him.

"baby.. what's- what's wrong?" he asked, attempting to hold your hand but you retracted it and tried to throw another pillow at him. he swiftly caught it and brought it back down gently beside you.

"was it worth the one month of free car wash?" you spat through hiccups. jay stayed silent, confused.

"of course it probably was, that's what you do right?" the sight of your swollen and red face kept breaking his heart, he was still confused on what you were talking about but he'll let you talk.

this way he knew how he'd make things better.

"make me fall in love with you in exchange of a month's free of car wash.." you muttered, your eyes still boring on to his. at your words, it finally clicked. "..am i really worth just that much?" another sob.

right, he had forgotten to end the call when his 'friend' came barging into his apartment. you had probably heard all the nonsense the guy sputtered.. but surely you must've heard the way he defended your relationship and swore at that him too?

"i thought.. high school days were done jay. please just leave me alone now. you got what you want." jay shook his head, coming closer and pulling your body to his.

he wrapped his arms around you, his hand rubbing your back as you sobbed hard. he didn't try stopping you when he felt your weak punches that you threw at his chest, his own tears clouding his vision but he didn't dare make them fall.

"you got it all wrong, baby." he whispered, rubbing your nape as your face now rested against the crook of his neck. he ignored the wetness there. "i'm guessing you overheard the conversation with sungjae?"

you nodded, now calmer but not pulling away.

"did you also hear the way i told him to drop the stupid bet he kept insisting to happen? the way i kicked him out of my apartment?" you stayed silent, only sniffling as a response.

jay sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter and pulling you closer.

"the whole campus knows sungjae's an asshole, baby. he was a jerk who thought that being a dick to others were entertaining, and i guess that's why i was like that back in high school.. i wanted to be accepted in their group."

"but we're in college now, i left that group but somehow sungjae's here and is pathetically still stuck in the past." he pulled your face from his neck, cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears.

"i've loved you since high school.. and there's no bet, baby. the moment he had found out i was dating you, he kept bringing up a bet about how long we would last.. but i always shut him out, told him to cut it out and that there will be no bet happening, especially if you're the one getting betted on."

new fresh tears come rolling down your cheek, this time they were tears of relief. glad to know that everything was real, that you weren't just a toy.

"you promise you'll cut him off starting now?" you whispered, looking at him with big glassy eyes.

"i've cut him since high school, y/n. it's him who's keep clinging to me. but i promise he won't be saying anything about the both of us anymore." jay pressed your foreheads together, pressing a soft peck on your lips.

"you will forever be the prettiest and the only one i'll ever love this much in this world, my baby."

★ SIM JAEYUN ( 0.5k wc )

jake watched you run away in confusion, staring at the laughing crowd and turning to look at your locker only to be met with the note he has been telling everyone to throw away.

he angrily took it from your locker, ripping the small paper into pieces. "how many times have i told you to cut this shit out? do you want me to report all of you for harassment and bullying?" he raised his voice at the crowd who had stopped their laughter.

"that's what i thought." he frowned, pushing past them and running after you.

jake knew what everyone was doing the moment it spread that he was dating you. he had received dms telling him he could do better and if he was merely toying with your feelings.

he had told them countless times to drop it, even going far as to almost punch the person who has created the bets if it wasn't for sunoo holding him back. he had hoped that it wouldn't reach you. it was another one of his reasons on why he always went to school earlier, just in case it was placed on your locker. unfortunately, you were earlier than him today.

it's not like he was tolerating it, he had tried countless times to report it but they'd only say it was probably only for fun and he shouldn't take jokes seriously.

but jokes were meant to be funny, right?

jake opened the door that lead to the rooftop slowly, peeking his head to look if you were there. to his luck, you were.

your back faced him while your bag was placed down carelessly beside your feet. jake approached slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you further.

"baby?" he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. you turned your head towards him, showing him your tear stained cheeks. "oh, y/n." he sighed and held your cheeks, wiping away the salty liquid off your precious face.

"jake.. why are you dating me, of all people?" you ask through tears, avoiding his eyes.

jake's eyes softened, he dated you because you were different from everyone who wanted to be like the everyone else, did that make sense? you were your own person, you didn't care about social status, wealth, his circle of friends, and whether someone was good looking or not. you were soft hearted, to the point that you had let others take advantage of that leading them to walking all over you.

and he hated that.

"why not you?" he said softly, tilting your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. "you're everything i've ever needed."

"you can tell the truth." you mutter, looking at jake. his mouth formed a pout, heart broken at the way you had so little love for yourself.

"i am telling the truth, baby." he whispers, taking your hands and placing them on his face before putting his own hands back on yours. "everything is a joke to them when i'm involved." you whisper, ignoring the way your voice broke.

"we don't care about what they think, they're all just jealous. everything we've been through and what i feel for you are real, no jokes." he smiled, pulling you closer to him.

"you promise?"

"baby i'd choose you over anyone in this world over and over again until the heavens above is tired of me."

★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.7k wc)

sunghoon frowned, confused and hurt. he wanted to fix whatever happened, so he took his phone from the couch and his car keys from the wooden bowl in his foyer.

it was when he was in the elevator that he noticed his phone was open. his breath hitched, finally knowing the reason for your departure and choice of words. sunghoon quickly left the group chat and started dialing your number.

it was true that you were a bet. were. he didn't even know why he agreed, maybe because he wanted so badly to fit in. he didn't want a repeat of middle school, so instead of being the bullied and made fun of, he was now the one doing those to others. he wasn't proud of it at the slightest.

that doesn't excuse his actions though. the longer he spent time with you, the deeper he fell. sunghoon never planned for you to find out this way, he already had a plan. first he had to get rid of his 'friends', tell you everything then ask you if you still wanted him to meet your parents.

guilt always ate him alive whenever you would stay over and sleep by his side. he couldn't bring himself to meet your family knowing he hasn't told you everything and the truth.

he felt like his heart would jump out of his chest as he stood infront of the door of your house. if he died tonight on the hands of either your father or older brother, he'd welcome death with open arms.

i deserve it.

he audibly gulped when the door opened, revealing.. you. the way your brows furrowed at the sight of him tightened his chest. he stopped you before you could even close the door on him.

"y/n please, let me explain everything.. o-okay?" the way his voice cracked and the unshed tears in his eyes almost made you give in, but upon remembering what you've read, the anger in you was back.

"explain what?" you spat, turning to look over your shoulder before back at him. "that all those months i've spent loving you," you pointed at him harshly. "was just for entertainment? tell me, what was in it for you, huh?"

sunghoon shook his head, the tears now flowing down his pale cheeks. "no, no! i promise, please i love you." he reached out but you stepped back, biting your lip as you held back the tears.

"just.. leave me alone sunghoon," he felt his heart crack even more. "you've had your fun, you can laugh about i all you want now." you were taken aback when he knelt infront of you, hugging your waist as he sobbed.

"what the-" sunghoon tightened his grip on you, muttering along the words of 'im sorry', 'never meant to be like this', and something along the lines of regretting something.

"sunghoon- oh my god." you groaned as you descended to face him. "please, i didn't mean to. i-" he hiccuped, "i'm sorry, i know it was stupid and there's no reason for me to accept the bet- but i just wanted to fit in. i wanted them to take me as a part of their circle- but, but i soon realized that it was stupid." he looked at you with swollen eyes, desperation swam in his dark irises.

"because i realized that hurting you isn't worth being a part of their asshole group. it started with a bet, i admit, but i truly love you, please believe me." a sob made its way out his throat as he clung into you, his arms circling your neck. "it wasn't a lie whenever i said i'd meet your parents, i was constantly trying to get rid of them first before i met your family, i didn't want to meet them until i've told you the complete truth."

your own tears descended down your cheeks, your heart hurting for yourself and sunghoon. you stayed on the floor wrapped around each other for a moment before you both helped each other up to your feet, he looked at you intensely with red bloodshot eyes. "i'm sorry, i understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore."

"i understand hoon," you whispered, bringing your hands to cup his face. "but you have to understand too that i can't trust you fully right up again." he nodded, putting his own hands on yours as he kissed your palms.

"i know.. and i'll spent the rest of my life earning it again. i love you."

— ౨ৎ thank u for tuning in ! @j-jinxee @slp23 @unsurereader @heelovesmeknot @sunshine-skz @hoondrop @jooniesbears-blog @jordan1024 @heeswif3y @outroherrr @harufluff @cheeseball0 @yjwluver @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @itjengirl @emiliasstuffs-blog @isa942572 @lufcxx @alienqbrain @woniebae @baekxo07 @titttuaf @chuuswifereal @kyanmeai @isabellah29 @deezbin @skzenhalove @eneiyri @a4ruby @saxytalks @denleave1088 @imdelulu @powerpuffstuts @hoonatic @dollydigital @chososloverfr @dummyf @chanyeolchannie @oddracha @wonwushu @strawberrynull @ceciloveshee @loumin908 @cexg68 @grassbutneo @gardenwons @pag-yerin @bora04 @iluvnikism @jellymiki

— i couldn't tag those who's usernames aren't in bold :(

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 10th. tom riddle — oral sex, experienced!tom.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: your ex couldn’t make you orgasm, so you were certain you were broken. tom shows you just how wrong you are.

warnings: 18+, SMUTTT MDNI, tom riddle can eat me aliv—sorry who tf said that?, tom riddle is such a realist; he sees a problem and he finds a solution, tom is a munch, praise kink, oral f!receiving, experienced tom, hufflepuff!reader.

Months pass, and your project remains the only thing Tom ever prioritizes when it's you asking.

Progress is slow—slow because you're usually far too busy talking to actually focus—yet, he always stays. He listens, even when the things you say should bore him, even when they mean nothing at all. He sits there—giving you hardly the barest scraps of himself in return as you fill the space between you with everything that crosses your mind.

Things he'd never waste a second hearing from anyone else.

And tonight, to no-one's surprise, you're doing it again—rambling on about nothing and everything all at once. You've got this way of talking—weaving tangents into something almost poetic, and usually, he lets it fade into the background as he works. You're saying something about the differences between the seasons, or maybe it's just some other kind of sentimental nonsense—at this point, he's not entirely sure.

It's easy to tune out. He tells himself he's not really listening.

Until—

"Actually, I guess I should clarify that—it's all hypothetical. I don't date," he doesn't know what you said before this, but he's certainly intrigued by it now. "And really, it has nothing to do with like, self esteem or anything, I'm just broken. Best to save someone the trouble."

That stops him cold. It's not so much the declaration that you don't date—he could have guessed that himself—but more so the way you've just called yourself broken.

It's not a word he's ever heard you use before.

"What do you mean, broken?" He asks, the question coming out far more blunt than he probably intended.

It just seems so out of character for you—you've always been an optimist, far too annoyingly positive to speak of anything this way. He blinks when you freeze, and blinks again when a moment of self consciousness seems to pass over your face—and he notes how that's a first for you, too.

"Broken...as in, uh, not normal," your eyes flit down to your lap, tracing the wood beneath where you're seated on the floor in his dorm. "My ex made that very clear in his assessment of me."

The mention of an ex is something he'd been anticipating—you're in your twenties, after all—but it's the idea that your ex is the source of you calling yourself broken, that he can't quite swallow.

"You're 'broken' because of one ex?" He says, and he can't stop how derisive and skeptical his voice sounds. He doesn't care to try. "I'm not following."

"I'm what you'd call, damaged goods, I think," you murmur, and there's an almost self-deprecating smirk on your face. He can't help but think how he's never seen that look on you, either. "I've got a slew of unhealthy baggage that comes along with me. You know, childhood traumas, abandonment issues, daddy issues—"

He snorts at that—daddy issues—and your head snaps up, smirk deepening despite yourself.

"Don't snort at my daddy issues," you huff, and there's a familiar annoyance in your voice that puts him at ease. "They're valid and real."

"I'm not denying their validity," he counters, his own smirk beginning to surface. "But daddy issues? Come on. You're not some tired cliché ripped out of a teenage romance novel. I refuse to accept your declaration of brokenness until you give me factual reasoning."

You laugh at that—alive and genuine—and for a moment, he's reminded of why he even tolerates you in his space at all.

"Fine," you cross your arms over your chest. "What do you want to know then?"

He makes a low, contemplative sound at that—because there's a million questions that come to mind with the words damaged goods—and after a moment, he settles on the one that falls out first.

"What is it, precisely, that makes you broken?"

You sigh, a bit theatrically—he knows you're just putting on a show and he wants to laugh at you for it—but he reigns that in, for now, while you figure out how you're going to respond to that.

The truth is, you don't know how to tell him the real reason you're broken—the part that has nothing to do with the laundry list of emotional baggage you could rattle off with ease. It's something...different.

Something more physical.

"I don't know, okay?" You're getting defensive. You're not sure why but you are. "Just—forget I said anything. We have this assignment to—"

"You dodging the question tells me it's more than just psychological," he cuts you off, leaning back into the couch. The way he's looking at you makes it clear—there's no way he's letting this go. "You getting defensive tells me you're embarrassed by it."

You sigh again, leaning back on your palms to mirror his body language, though it doesn't feel half as natural on you as it does on him.

"And you, being an insufferable arse, is telling me I never should have mentioned it in the first place."

His smirk at that makes you want to glare at him.

"Stop dodging," he says. "You brought it up. You don't get to take it back."

It's a challenge—the gleam in his eyes is practically screaming so. You're not sure why the sight of it makes something low in your stomach clench, and you're even less sure of why you want to tell him something like this—something you haven't told anyone else—not friends, certainly not family.

Whatever the reasoning, you can feel yourself relent.

"Maybe," you pause, the look on his face makes you second guess yourself. "...maybe I don't want to tell you because I'm afraid you'll look at me differently." You glance down at your lap, fingers twitching against the yellow pleats of your skirt before finally meeting his eyes again. "And I kind of like the way you look at me now."

Something like curiosity passes over his expression at that—but it's quickly hidden by the type of skepticism that tells you he still doesn't believe you're being serious.

"You're overthinking it," he replies, unmoving. "Whatever it is you think you're going to tell me, I'm not going to look at you differently. You're still you—no filter, unabashedly verbal—"

"Too verbal. Too positive, too loud," you finish his sentence for him—because you know that's how he thinks of you. "Too annoyingly optimistic. Far too hufflepuff for your cold snake skin. I know."

"Exactly," he says, tongue running over his bottom lip in attempt to quell his smirk. "So I reiterate. There's nothing you could tell me that would change that."

"Fine," you relent, giving in begrudgingly because you know there's no other option. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

He just lifts a hand at that, as if to say; whatever you think it is, I can handle it. The action makes you suck a breath into your lungs, trapping it there.

"You're right," you say after a long exhale. "I have a slew of psychological bullshit that would take the span of a year for me to fully go over in one sitting—but, I'm fine with it. That's...that's not the thing that made me call myself broken."

He says nothing, just makes a motion with his eyes for you to keep going.

"It's, uhm...physical." You whisper, and your brain is moving too much and too fast and you're not even completely sure how to say it without sounding insane. "And...I don't know, I just...I can't orgasm. No matter what. I just can't—it's frustrating and embarrassing and it's the reason my ex ended things."

There's a silence that follows, and he knows if it were anyone else, they'd probably find a way to comfort you. Reassure you. Tom, however, isn't anyone else—

"You're joking," he says, and his tone is incredulous again.

A self-depreciating laugh leaves your lips involuntarily, the sound of it making you almost want to cringe.

"Would it be less embarrassing if I was?"

He's still just watching you, dissecting your words as if waiting for you to crack a smile and confess this was all some stupid joke—and the vulnerability of it aches like a stab to the gut.

"This is the reason you think you're broken?" Is what he goes with when he finally realizes you're being serious. "Because you haven’t orgasmed?"

The bluntness of it makes you flush, makes you wish you could sink into the floor. "I know it's not normal, okay—"

"It's not an abnormality, either," he asserts, with casualty. "You might just have a disconnect."

You blink, caught off guard—not just by his choice of words, but by how matter-of-fact he sounds, like this isn't the mortifying confession it feels like.

"A disconnect?"

"A disconnect," he repeats, looking you over, something clinical slipping into his eyes. "Between mind and body. And considering how loud your thoughts are—"

"Hey—" you snap, suddenly feeling a bit indignant, but he just continues on.

"—it's not surprising that you can't get out of your own head."

You open your mouth to argue, to tell him he's not a therapist, so what the hell does he know? But the certainty in his expression makes you pause. He doesn't look patronizing or condescending, just...assured. Like he knows exactly what he's talking about.

You hesitate, lips parting, a protest forming on your tongue. Before you can say anything, though, he raises a hand to stop you.

"Come here," he says, standing up from the couch.

You blink, trying to decipher what the hell he's implying—because if anything, the last thing that's going to make you less paranoid about intimacy is proximity.

"What?"

He just looks at you, making a motion with two fingers, beckoning you to stand.

"Don't ask questions. Just come here."

It's an order, and it makes your spine tingle in a way that's definitely not comfortable—but you get up from the floor, and move closer to him anyway, closing the distance between you with only a few steps until you're close enough to him that you can practically feel the heat that seems to come off him in waves.

It's weird—he's suddenly too much all at once—you're so much more aware of him being in front of you than you think you've ever been before and it does not help that he's just looking at you—as if studying you—blinking only once as he raises those same two fingers to your neck, resting them against the pulse point at your throat.

Your entire body tenses. His touch is far more gentle than you ever imagined it being, something disarming that makes your pulse beat faster against his fingers as a result—and because this is Tom, with all his smug and certainty—he gives you a look that tells you he can feel it before he slides his fingers up to rest on your forehead.

You scowl at the motion, but he clicks his tongue, the sound as condescending as it is amused.

"I told you, you're an overthinker." He murmurs, eyes dipping to your lips. "Too much noise."

You want to refute that—mostly because you're not overthinking, you can't be—he's just so unequivocally overwhelming—

"I'm not—"

You start, but he moves his fingers from your forehead and places them against your lips—

"Quiet." He scolds, and that makes something low in your stomach clench. "Your body knows what to do. You're just letting your thoughts get in the way."

You long to protest again, just for the sake of defiance—but then his fingers are against your collarbone, and that motion in your stomach becomes a bit more of a squirm—

"Your body is trying to tell you something," he whispers, watching each little hitch in your breath. "But you're too busy talking over it to hear what it's saying."

You realize—with a sort of horror that's laced with something a little more uncomfortable—that he's right. Your body is trying to say something. It's communicating through the unsteady force of your breaths, through the clench of your fists against your skirt—

Of course, he notices. He's noticing far too much.

"Relax," he murmurs, and now he's trailing those same two fingers in an unhurried path down your shoulder. You suddenly regret every decision that led to you wearing a T-shirt. "I'm not going to bite you."

Something about the way he says it makes you wish he wasn't quite so convincing—the familiar banter you long for gone with the sharp exhale that comes out of your mouth as his fingers encircle your wrist—

"Your pulse is racing," he says casually, far too casually for how much effort it's taking you not to scream. "Does that seem broken to you?"

Gods—you want to respond—you really, really do— but your thoughts flatline when you realize his touch has shifted. He's no longer just holding your wrist; he's guiding your hands to rest against his chest, and—

"There you go," he whispers, and the tone of it tells you he knows exactly what it is he's doing to you. "See? Your body's doing exactly what it's meant to do. You—" his fingers trail up your arms, and his voice gets lower. "—are not broken."

You swallow hard, acutely aware of your hands on his chest and the way your palms are clammy against the fabric of his shirt. He's shifting you now, deliberately crowding you, and it's only when you feel the edge of the couch press against the back of your calves that you realize—perhaps a second too late—exactly what it is he's doing.

You stumble back onto the leather, and he follows—crushing his lips to yours.

You gasp, startled, because despite everything you truly hadn't seen this coming. The kiss is messy, clumsy, and his hand finds the nape of your neck, tugging at your hair with just enough force to make it sting. And inevitably, when you gasp again, he takes it as an invitation to work his tongue into your mouth, other hand slipping under your shirt—trailing up your stomach.

You're trembling now, and he makes a low sound at the realization. Your brain is racing to catch up, and the irony of this isn't lost on you—he'd just claimed you weren't broken, but he might as well be destroying you himself.

He parts from your lips only to trail his own across your jaw—

"You're shaking," he murmurs with a smirk against your throat—as if he's taking immense pleasure in the fact—you hate how smug it makes him sound. "Do you want me to stop?"

You want to tell him he's being a bastard, but then his lips press to that spot on your neck—the one that makes your breath hitch and your pulse stutter—and you find yourself whimpering at the sensation.

"No," you breathe, and you'd be embarrassed by the pleading tone in your voice if you weren't so lost in the moment. "Don't stop."

He makes another low, satisfied noise at that.

"Good," he whispers. "No thinking. Just feel."

You swallow—throat dry. It's unfair how easily he's dismantling you with nothing but his mouth and hands. Unfair how he's leaving you breathless and unraveling while somehow making you feel seen in a way you can't explain, even with your eyes shut.

"Tom," you find yourself whimpering, and you aren't even sure what you're asking for—you just know you want more as his lips trail lower—as his fingers work to tug down your skirt. "Gods."

"Shh. Feel me," he murmurs, almost possessively, his lips brushing lower, grazing over your stomach, then your pelvis. "Let your body do the talking."

You've got your hands tangled in his hair before you even know what you're doing, and you hate the fact that you're pretty sure you'd melt into a puddle if he weren't holding you together.

"I feel you," you whimper as he kisses lower. "You're all I feel."

He makes another low sound at that, and you just know it's the response of ‘yeah, that’s right’—but then he's between your legs, panties shifted out of the way, and the first sweep of his tongue against your clit makes all coherent thought shift to static.

"Oh! God," you gasp, the word barely escaping before dissolving into a whimper when he does something with his tongue that makes your vision blur. "Tom—oh, fuck."

He just makes that smug, satisfied noise against you again before his tongue swirls over your clit and you find yourself almost cursing whatever deity made him so good at this, because it's not fair how quickly he reduced you to a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him and—

"Don't stop," you find yourself babbling, digging your nails into his scalp and knowing you look like a goddamn wreck as he makes a meal out of you—tongue lapping up your slick and swirling your clit before sealing his lips around it and forcing your back off the leather beneath it. "Please, don't stop, please—"

It's all you can manage to say. Your thighs are shaking now, and you're sure he's got you dripping all over his face with how soaked you are. He knows you're falling apart and he just keeps going— your brain ceasing function in favour of just focusing on how fucking close you are—how close you are to something you've never felt before in your life—and you're not even sure what you're begging for anymore but it's incoherent and loud—

"I need—" you whimper, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan against you. You don't know what you're asking for, but you know he has it. "I need—I need—“

"Let go," he murmurs against you, the roughness in it vibrating up into your belly. "I dare you."

There's still a little bit of you functioning on autopilot, just enough to tell you that when he murmurs those words—vibrations rattling up your cunt and into your chest—you're completely done for.

It’s merely a few seconds later that your high reaches its peak and he just keeps lapping as you shake apart beneath him with an intensity you've never felt before in your life—orgasm shredding you apart at the seams. Your thighs clamp around his face, your eyes squeezed shut, ears ringing so loud you barely register his low, muttered praises: "good girl," "so good," "there you go."

You’re fairly positive your legs will never be able to support you again when you finally come back down, feeling entirely like jelly as he pulls back, tongue flicking over his lips to clean off whatever's left of you.

And without thinking, you grab him and pull him up, crashing your lips against his in a messy, desperate kiss. He tastes like you, like him, like something you can't quite describe—and it makes everything feel intense and unbearably real all at once.

He gives you a moment, as if letting you recover, just languidly kissing you back—and you have to be honest with yourself and admit that this kind of makes you want to scream.

"A disconnect," he smirks against your mouth, the tone still smug. You manage a weak smack to his shoulder, though it does nothing to wipe the satisfaction off his face. "Still sure you're broken?"

You hate that he's right. Hate that he's managed to pull a reaction from you that you didn't think was possible. But as you sit there, shaky and spent, you know you can't deny the truth: no, you're not broken.

"Not broken." You whisper back. "You will be though, if you don't stop smirking at me like that."

[southernvampire]

.

[fxstpace]

oh, snap!

summary: you and jake sim might have been best friends once upon a time, but not anymore. now, you barely talk to each other—so you decide to prove the universe wrong when you find out that he’s your soulmate, because there’s no way both of you are compatible.

⇢ pairing: jake sim x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers au, soulmate au, college au ⇢ word count: 7.0k ⇢ warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual jokes, soulmate lore i made up ⇢ a/n: this is a fic i had posted on my now deactivated blog, which i’ve made minor modifications to. thanks for reading!

The universe has to be fucking with you.

You aren’t one to believe in manifestation or the law of attraction or whatever other nonsense your TikTok feed provides you with. You think it’s a total waste of time, energy, and resources. 

Right now, however, you’re manifesting with all your might—eyes screwed tightly shut, hands clasped in front of your chest, only one thought running through your head: Please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be—

You open one eye cautiously. You lift up the pinkie finger of your right hand equally carefully. 

Fuck.

You drop your hands and let your head fall onto the desk in front of you. A dull thud echoes around you, and normally, you would be apologetic since you’re at the library, but because you’re wallowing in self-pity you can’t bring yourself to care. A frown mars your forehead. Maybe you’re manifesting wrong. Is that even a thing? Perhaps you should ask your friend Yizhou how to do it; she’s pretty popular on Instagram so surely she’d have some idea. Maybe one of her fellow influencer friends is a manifester. (Is that what they call it?)

You lift your head up and stare morosely at the red thread twined around your little finger. It winds down the floor, swirling and looping in gentle curves. You glare at the person it’s connected to.

Jake Sim, that little piece of shit.

The object of your disdain is seated one table away from yours. He’s hunched over his laptop, occasionally scribbling something into the messy notebook in front of him. His glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose, and every time he pushes them back up, you feel a tug on your finger. 

This brings you to the following question: Does he not know you’re his soulmate?

You have three answers. One: He knows, but he doesn’t care. Two: He doesn’t know. Three: He doesn’t care.

The second option is rare but not unheard of. There have been several cases where people vehemently deny the existence of soulmates and refuse to believe in it. Such people never get to see the red thread that is wrapped around their finger, even though it exists. Truthfully, you feel bad for the people on the other side of the thread—the non-believer’s alleged soulmate. They will forever watch from afar, never going too close, but never straying away either. It sounds lonely, more than anything else. 

You push that thought away. If Jake doesn’t know, it should be a good thing, right? You don’t need a soulmate to survive. You can just continue with your life as it is—attending classes, hanging out with your friends… Yeah, you’re happy with everything you have.

Another tug at your pinkie forces out an annoyed huff from your mouth. You glare at the perpetrator, still engrossed in his work. To be fair, you didn’t know Jake was your soulmate until very recently either. You knew the thread existed but didn’t know who it was connected to. When you were younger, you and your friends would have tons of fun pulling at the thread to annoy your unknown soulmate. Getting a pull back was a source of glee for seven-year-old you. Now, it just fills you with dread.

“Oi.” Someone’s breath tickles your ear.

“Fucking hell!” 

You swat at your best friend’s face, successfully smacking his cheek. Taehyun grunts in pain. “Uncalled for.”

“What the fuck, Taehyun?” You grouse. “Don’t scare me like that. Sorry ‘bout your cheek.”

The boy rolls his eyes, sitting down on the chair next to you and dumping his tote bag on the table. “I’d feel better if you actually meant your apology. Also, why aren’t you studying? Our midterms start in a week and staring at Lover Boy isn’t gonna help you pass your classes.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “And I was… studying.”

“Right. That’s exactly why none of your books are open.”

“Shut up, people are staring.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment. You’re not wrong—people are staring. Well, specifically, one person. You flex your little finger a little, straightening it out and then bending it again. If Jake feels any sort of yank, he doesn’t show it. Not that you’re interested, of course. You’re just… observing. So is he, clearly. He peers over his glasses at you both, his expression not betraying anything.

You flinch when Taehyun pinches your side. Turning back to him, you’re ready to yell at him for being an annoying asshole, when he fixes you with a pitying sort of look. You swallow.

“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t overthink, okay? He’s alone right now, you might as well talk to him about this.”

You blink uneasily, eyes flitting between your friend and the unopened book in front of you.

“How long are you gonna avoid him? You’ve been hiding this for months. And… he has a right to know,” Taehyun finishes, flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes.

You swallow again, around the lump in your throat that’s been sitting there for months. You found out that Jake was your soulmate months ago. Yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to confront him or tell him about it. A far cry from the whole entire concept of soulmates—isn’t he supposed to be your missing puzzle piece? Certainly not, if you’re too nervous to even approach him. The universe must have made a mistake. Whatever higher being exists must have assigned you to the wrong person.

Taehyun is right, though. (You’re not going to admit it to him, of course; there’s no need to boost his already inflated ego.)

Jake Sim does have a right to know that he’s your soulmate. 

You shift uncomfortably. Taehyun drops his gaze with a sigh. “I know you two have a history but can’t you just sort this out?”

“I… can’t,” you say lamely. 

Your best friend looks sadly at you. You look away, fidgeting with the cover of your textbook. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a girl make her way to Jake’s table. He perks up immediately, greeting her with a soft smile. She sits down next to him and grabs Jake’s laptop, angling it towards her like it’s second nature. It probably is, you think bitterly.

Another reason why you can’t tell Jake Sim about this whole Situation: He has a girlfriend.

Park Chaerin meets your eyes and waves at you cheerfully. You wave back, feeling sick to your stomach.

You press the tip of your pen into your notebook, fighting the urge to close your eyes. Even the half-empty cup of coffee next to your laptop has done little to wake you up. Morning classes are the bane of your existence, and as a night owl, you vehemently dislike getting up early. Your professor rattles on about an assignment due in a week. You stifle another yawn behind your hand.

Feeling a yank on your little finger, you press the palm of your hand on the desk and ignore it. Jake Sim is sitting right next to you—courtesy of both of you having arrived five minutes late, and the only seats left were in the last row. Your Friday 8 AM lecture on the Quantum Theory of Electromagnetism is normally interesting, but Professor Jang makes even the most stimulating topics seem dry. You usually end up resorting to self-study sessions in order to understand everything. 

Jake is scribbling something next to you. He’s probably doodling. He used to do that a lot when he was little, too. You recall pages upon pages of maths notes interspersed with tiny drawings of dinosaurs and dragons in the margins. They had made you laugh at the time. 

“Hey,” he whispers.

You blink.

“Hi,” you say.

Jake grins at you—and you’re dazzled, for a moment. It’s been so long since you’ve had that smile of his being directed at you. You’ve seen him smile at other people on campus—his new friends, his girlfriend, acquaintances—all from afar, and you push down the bitter sting of rejection that pricks you every time. After so many months, it feels like you were in a pitch-black room all this time, and someone suddenly turned on the lights. It’s blinding.

Your former friend caps his pen and leans back in his chair. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer. Just to be polite, you add, “...Did you?”

“Kind of.” Jake winces.

“Oh.”

“I was trying to understand the topic before this. Y’know—” he meets your eyes expectantly— “the whole Kronig-Penney model and the Bloch function and all that. I spent, like, two hours on them,” he says sheepishly.

“Oh, uh, yeah, those are kinda difficult,” you offer.

You’re still perplexed by this whole situation. Admittedly, after weeks of minimal contact with your childhood best friend, this isn’t how you imagined your reunion would go. All awkwardness aside, however, it feels… nice, talking to him again. It’s hard to move past the last few months, but there’s nothing wrong with this, right? You can think of it as two classmates bonding over a hard course they willingly chose. Two classmates who’ve known each other since they were toddlers just learning to walk, but you deliberately don’t think of that.

Jake hums. “The graphs get super confusing.”

“I guess,” you say. 

He leans forward abruptly, elbows knocking on the edge of the desk. His stare on you is intent, focused. “Is your number still the same?”

You gape at him, mouth open like a blown-out fish. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

“So I can text you if I don’t understand anything,” Jake says simply, easily, still sporting that same easygoing smile of his. Your stomach twists into knots, and you force yourself to appear calm and not like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I think you should’ve asked me first,” you manage to say.

He looks at you strangely, a dip in his eyebrows. “Why would I do that?”

Why, indeed.

Jake has known you for years; this is an undeniable fact. Even now, he probably knows you better than anyone else does—or ever could. So there’s absolutely no way he can’t make sense of the stifling awkwardness that surrounds you both.

However, the same holds true for you: You know Jake Sim just as well as he knows you. You know he’s trying to bridge a gap, make amends in a way only he does. You would be a fool if you didn’t take it in stride.

You crack a small smile. “Fair enough.”

He picks up his pen and twirls it between his fingers idly, before saying, “I’ll text you about other stuff, too.”

“Okay.”

“Great.”

Jake is all smiles and sunshine. He starts doodling again—what looks like a misshapen traffic cone of some sort. You look away, and tuck this little slice of goldenness into your rapidly rabbiting heart. 

This is not good. You pay no heed to the thread around your little finger, and pick up your own pen. Angling your notebook away from your deskmate, you begin to write.

REASONS WHY JAKE SIM CANNOT BE MY SOULMATE FUCK THIS SHIT IM OUT

#1. he doesn’t know you as well as he should (okay, maybe he does)

You have no clue how you ended up studying with Jake Sim and Park Chaerin, of all people.

Your own friends, Kang Taehyun and Kim Gaeul are utterly nonplussed at this new situation. You give them a helpless shrug when they elbow each other and raise their eyebrows at you. The library is fairly empty at this hour, which makes it an ideal time to study without the distractions of other people. Of course, you didn’t consider the two people who’ve decided you’re a physics expert and require your guidance.

You humour them because you’re a nice person—not because you’re weak to Jake’s entreaties and his offer of buying you food for a whole week.

Chaerin smiles at your friends. “Hey, guys! Come join us.”

Taehyun is the first to blink out of his confusion. He moves forward, pulling out the chair opposite yours and settling down. “Thanks. We won’t bother you guys much.”

Gaeul nods her head. “Yeah, I have a bunch of assignments to finish.” She chuckles nervously, smoothing out her hair.

“No problem,” Jake supplies. “Your friend is super smart.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows, pointing an incredulous finger at you. “You mean…?”

“Hey!” You swing your leg and kick Taehyun’s shin from under the table. He winces in pain. Gaeul giggles, and so does Chaerin. Jake lets out an amused snort.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” you say, “this bit isn’t that important from a test point of view, so just go over it to get the general idea.” You mark the paragraph you were referring to with a pencil.

Chaerin and Jake nod in tandem, like a pair of bobbleheads. You bite your lip to stifle your smile—they’re so perfect together, it’s ridiculous. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jake’s end of the string was connected to Chaerin’s instead. Is that even possible? You’ll have to google it up.

The thought puts a significant damper on your mood, and you turn away, drawing back from the pair sitting next to you. 

Instead, you lock eyes with Taehyun, who’s glaring at you with enough intensity to drill a hole through your forehead. Talk to him, he mouths. You give him a small shake of your head.

You can’t talk to him about anything serious. Explaining physics to him and his girlfriend in the presence of your own best friends is a sort of safe zone; you don’t have to discuss anything personal whatsoever. All you have to do is prattle off a list of formulae and derivations and graphs, and hope that what you’re telling them to study is actually going to be asked on your midterm next week.

Taehyun rolls his eyes so hard, you wonder how they haven’t popped out of their sockets. He’s exasperated, you can tell—and Gaeul has probably been receiving the brunt of it all, because he would never outrightly say he’s upset with you. He would rant to Gaeul instead, trusting that she would tell you everything he told her but more nicely. That’s how your little trio circles back to each other.

You shift uncomfortably. Gaeul catches your eye and gives you a small, sympathetic smile. Your lips twitch upwards slightly.

“Wow,” Chaerin says, “I can’t believe we finished a whole unit in, like, one and a half hours.” She directs the next part to you. “You’re really smart. Don’t listen to Taehyun.”

“Y/N doesn’t listen to me anyway,” your friend grumbles. Gaeul hides her snort behind her styrofoam cup of coffee.

Speaking of which, you could really use some caffeine too. Anything to get away from Jake Sim and his quiet, knowing… aura, is the word you settle for. He wasn’t always this quiet—he used to be loud and raucous when it was just the two of you in high school—so while this new development isn’t surprising, it certainly is jarring.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” you announce to the table at large. “Anyone wanna come with?”

“I’ll come,” Jake says immediately. “I owe you for teaching us.”

“Oh, um.” You attempt to smile. “I—”

“Please go,” Taehyun says suddenly, his tone beseeching. “I need coffee too but I don’t trust Y/N to not put salt in mine or something.”

You gape at him, betrayal flooding your features. Gaeul snorts again. Chaerin just looks at you and Jake alternately. Jake’s lips twitch upwards. “Y/N still does that?”

You whirl around to face him. “What?”

“Oh, this is getting interesting,” Gaeul pipes up. “Do elaborate.”

“I second that,” Chaerin adds. 

You feel your cheeks and the back of your neck heat up. You want to implore your former best friend to keep his pretty mouth shut, but your ego doesn’t let you grovel in front of three other people. Jake raises his eyebrows, lips parting to form a small ‘o’. He smiles, a little bit sheepish. Before he can say anything, you intervene.

“That was one time, Taehyun!” you snap. “And it was by accident. Why would I willingly put salt in your coffee?”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow at you, but inside, you know he’s laughing uncontrollably at your predicament. “Who knows? You might wanna poison me for being cooler than you.”

“What is this, high school? And why the fuck would I want a murder on my hands? I’m too young to go to jail.”

Chaerin tries to muffle her giggles with her hand. Both you and Taehyun turn simultaneously to look at her. “Sorry.” She giggles again. “You two talk like an old married couple.”

“Gross,” you say, at the same time Taehyun draws out an, “Ew,” and extends the last syllable like a child in kindergarten.

“Oh my God,” Gaeul says. “Chaerin, you’re a genius. I see it too.”

“Not you too,” Taehyun groans.

The two begin bickering again, and Chaerin joins them with enthusiasm, adding her own little tidbits of support for Gaeul in between the conversation. During all this, Jake remains remarkably quiet, an amused smile tugging on his lips. 

You turn to him, a rush of sudden embarrassment making your cheeks heat up. It occurs to you that he’s never seen you like this—laughing and joking around with your friends. Friends that don’t include him. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Let’s go get coffee.”

“Okay.” 

You and Jake push your chairs back under the table and exit the library. The coffee shop is two storeys down, so you make a beeline for the staircase. Your former best friend follows you, his undone shoelaces slapping on the tiles. He still doesn’t tie his shoelaces properly, then. Perhaps he hasn’t changed as much as you thought.

“Hey, by the way,” he says, “I was gonna tell Taehyun about the time I put salt in your coffee.”

“...I know.” Your answer is short, clipped. You force your shoulders to relax—there’s no need to tense up when Jake Sim is around.

“Oh. Uh, okay then.” 

You don’t look at him, but you’re fairly certain he’s doing that thing he always does when he’s feeling awkward: A little rub of his thumb against the corner of his mouth. It’s a tic he’s always had, from the time you were in elementary school, and it isn’t any different now.

A stifling silence falls upon you both. You almost wish Taehyun and Gaeul were here, bringing Chaerin with them in tow. The three of them seemed to get along well; the chances of the five of you hanging out outside of college are high, now.

Of course, that also means you and Jake will have to pretend like everything’s alright between you both, and that your decades-long friendship wasn’t shattered by one single argument.

You round the corner to the staircase and begin the descent downwards. Jake holds onto the railing on the other side. Despite everything, you think Jake is the braver one between you two. 

He breaks the silence as easily as he broke your heart, and asks:

“Do you still take your macchiato with two packets of sugar?”

“Yeah,” you say softly.

#2. he wants to be friends again (why?)

You blame Kang Taehyun for this.

Of course he had to forget to pick up the pizza from the local restaurant before coming back to his place. Of course he didn’t check the weather forecast beforehand, and even if he did, of course he didn’t tell you it was going to rain. Of fucking course he asks you to pick up the food for him because your classes only ended at 4 and the get-together to celebrate the end of midterms was at 4:30.

If you had the power, you would curse your best friend to oblivion. You grip your phone in your hand, gritting your teeth and staring down at the screen.

Group Chat: the holy trinity of dumbasses 🤡 [16:12] You: it’s fukcing pouring here and i didnt bring my car [16:12] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): *Fucking [16:13] You: yeah it’s something you’ve never done before [16:13] You: i have the pizza [16:13] You: come and pick me up or im throwing it in the dustbin. [16:14] gaeul 🤍: u shouldn’t waste food y/n >:( [16:14] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): You’re making Gaeul cry >:( [16:14] gaeul 🤍: girl what [16:15] You: aw cute [16:15] You: seriously tho [16:16] You: come pick me up [16:17] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): OK, I’m on my way [16:17] You: FUCKING FINALLY

The plastic bag with all the pizza boxes dangles off your wrist, cutting into your skin. The steps that lead to the inside of the restaurant are slick with rainwater. You open Instagram and scroll through your feed mindlessly, clicking on your classmates’ stories. 

You shiver. Rainy weather always makes the temperature drop by several degrees, and your flimsy jacket isn’t enough to drive away the chill. Forget Taehyun, maybe you should’ve checked the forecast instead. Sometimes (read: most of the time) you can be just as stupid as him. You wonder how Gaeul puts up with the single brain cell you and Taehyun toss between each other like a hot potato.

Honestly, you just want to go somewhere where it’s dry and warm.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and it takes you a whole minute to comprehend the name that shows up on the caller ID.

Jake Sim.

Why is Jake Sim calling you?

You chew on your lip nervously before swiping your thumb up and accepting his call. Bringing your phone to your ear, you let the plastic bag sway gently. The line is silent for a few seconds, as though neither of you can comprehend the fact that you’re on a call with each other. It makes sense; this is the first time in months he’s calling you.

Finally, Jake’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m outside. Can you see me?”

“I, uh.” You look around quickly. The parking lot in front of you is mostly empty, a good chunk of people having escaped the rain. It’s not hard to make out the solitary figure standing outside a beaten-down Toyota, holding an umbrella aloft. “Yeah, I see you.”

“Oh, good,” he says. “Do you have an umbrella?”

“Nope. Just… pizza.”

Jake makes a noise that sounds like a warbled chuckle. “Okay, I’m coming over there.”

“...Okay.”

For some strange reason, you don’t feel like ending the call. You fumble for something to say, because it’s weird just being on a call with someone you can literally see. The tug on your little finger as he comes closer to you makes a lump form in your throat. You take a deep breath and push it down into your stomach. 

“You haven’t changed your car,” you say lightly.

Jake hums, the sound so familiar it doesn’t even surprise you until you register it. “Can’t afford a new one. Plus, it works decently.”

He strides over to you, and it’s unnecessarily sexy—the way he holds the black umbrella up with one hand and his phone to his ear with the other. You can see the speckles of rain on his grey hoodie where the raindrops bounce off the ends of the umbrella. His hair is swept to the side, lips pink with chapstick. Another yank on your pinkie finger; you clench your fist.

“Please,” you snort. “The last time I was in it, it took twenty minutes to start the engine. That was a year ago, Jake.”

He’s closer now, nearing the steps. His eyes don’t leave yours. They trace over all your features, as though he’s committing you to memory—you, with your tangled hair and tired eye bags, chapped lips and dirty sneakers. You swallow.

He puts his phone down and speaks to you directly. “I think that was the driver’s fault. But don’t worry, I can drive better now.”

You let your hand drop limply to your side. 

“Hi,” Jake says.

“Hi again,” you manage to say.

“Here, let me take that.” He reaches out for the pizza bag, but you don’t give it to him.

“It’s fine. Just… hold up the umbrella and don’t get us wet.”

Jake laughs, a short, bright sound. “I won’t.”

You step towards him, quickly slipping underneath the shelter of the umbrella above your head. It’s a tight fit—one of your shoulders pokes out, as does one of his. You grimace when your sleeve gets splattered with rain.

Jake leads the way to his ancient car, scratched and scuffed with years of use. It was his dad’s old one, a gift for him on his seventeenth birthday, one that his mom had told you about to surprise him with. It seems like a bygone history now.

“I thought Taehyun was gonna come,” you comment.

Jake looks at you strangely. “I thought you asked for me to come pick you up.”

“I… did?” You gasp at the realisation. Kang Taehyun, that fucker. “I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly. “Taehyun probably told you that I was stuck in the rain.”

“He did,” Jake confirms. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s not a problem at all.”

“Oh… okay, then.” Still, you feel guilty. Jake came all the way in the rain just because your best friend couldn’t stop being a meddling little nincompoop.

“Why wouldn’t I come?” Jake continues. His voice sounds deliberately casual. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“...Yeah. I guess.”

Jake stops near his car, fishing around in his pocket for the keys. “Look, I—I know things haven’t been the same lately, but I—” he licks his lips, another nervous tic of his— “I want you to know that I never stopped thinking of you as my best friend. Okay?”

You blink, sucking in a breath sharply. “I, um, yeah. Yeah, okay,” you say lamely.

Jake nods once, not meeting your eyes. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve found friends like Gaeul and Taehyun. They’re good people.”

“So is Chaerin,” you say. “And so is Sunghoon.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling faintly, unlocking the door. “And so are you.”

Sometimes, you wonder if Jake also feels a pull on his little finger. If he does, does he ever wonder where it’s from? Or does he not feel it at all? You bend your finger and shuffle into the passenger side of his car. He closes the door for you before crossing over to the other side and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Whatever the case is, one thing is for sure: Jake Sim is your soulmate, and even if he wasn’t, you’d still be in love with him.

Just like you were one year ago.

#3. his parents adore you (and so do you, but there’s always the yearning and the aching)

“Hey, mom and dad are asking when you’re gonna visit again.”

Jake swings into your periphery, putting his phone back in his pocket. His mom had called about fifteen minutes ago to make plans for Jake to go home over the weekend. Potentially, you could also go—your childhood home is right next to his. It’s been a while since you last visited; your little sister sends you texts about how much she misses you.

He sits down on the chair next to yours, looking at you expectantly. You’re at your favourite spot in the library, one that’s been designated as you and your friends’ table. Jake and Chaerin have been officially integrated into your tiny trio; Gaeul and Chaerin get along really well, and Taehyun and Jake follow the same sports teams. Occasionally, their other friend, Park Sunghoon, joins you but he’s very quiet and mostly keeps to himself.

You don’t look up from your laptop screen when you answer, “I’m not sure.”

“Huh. Mom says you’ve said that to your mom every time she asks.”

Things between you and Jake have reached a semblance of normalcy, too. It’s not the same as it used to be—it can never be the same as it used to be—but at least the pang you feel in your chest whenever he talks to you has dulled somewhat. 

“I’ve been busy,” you say vaguely. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Jake retorts. “Our midterms were over a week ago. What’re you waiting for?”

You don’t reply. He waits for a moment before saying, “I could drive you.”

That gets your full attention. Your gaze snaps to him, mouth pressed together. 

“I mean, we literally live right next to each other, Y/N,” he continues. “It’ll save gas. And the environment.”

You snort. “Your car is more of a hazard to the environment than us not carpooling is.”

“You don’t know how to drive,” he deadpans.

“That’s not true! I can drive, I just choose not to. Saving the environment and all.” You point an accusing finger at him. “If you really care about the environment, you should take the bus home with me.”

Jake shrugs loosely. “I don’t care how we go home, as long as you come with me. I’m sure your sister misses you too.”

There it is again: That easy, light way he says things. Nonchalant and unaffected—though it affects you more than it should.

“You’ll pay for the tickets?” 

Jake’s grin is golden. “If that’s what it takes.”

That’s how you find yourself crammed in between Jake Sim and an old auntie with a flower-patterned bandana, on the bus back to your hometown three days later. The auntie gives you and Jake a few cookies she’d packed for her grandchildren, and then promptly falls asleep on your shoulder (Jake couldn’t stop laughing for ten minutes when he saw the line of drool she’d left on your shirt sleeve). He offers you his own shoulder in case you want to sleep too; your cheeks heat up at the thought. It’s a bumpy ride, but after stopping at the bus stop nearest to your house, Flower Auntie sends you off with a few more cookies and a box of homemade kimchi, and you and Jake begin walking back to your neighbourhood.

Some things have changed—the playground is being renovated, your old elementary school is being repainted, the Kims who owned the local ramen shop retired and set the place up for rent. But at its heart, it’s all the same, you think. Kids still run around holding warm bungeoppang from street stalls and cartons of strawberry milk from the convenience store. Their mothers sit around and gossip about celebrities and complain about their husbands. People working corporate jobs curse under their breaths about their bosses and their unforgiving schedules. It’s late in the evening when you arrive, a bag containing all of Flower Auntie’s goodies hanging off Jake’s arm. All the local eateries are opening up for the dinner rush, drawing people in with the offer of free beer and soju for every meal purchased. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jake says, a fond smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

Despite everything, it’s still home.

The two of you cross the streets to your houses, sneakers slapping against the pavement. Several neighbours who’ve seen you both grow up call out and wave hello. You’re stopped by Mrs. Lee’s son, Heeseung, who makes you both promise to go out for dinner with him tomorrow. 

Finally, you stand in front of your childhood home. The rusted door and peeling-off paint greets you like a best friend. You shoulder your backpack and ring the doorbell, saying goodbye to Jake as he walks into his own house.

The door swings open—only to reveal Mrs. Sim standing at your doorway. Before you can voice your confusion, she pulls you into a tight hug, mumbling your name into your hair.

“Welcome home,” she says, moving aside and letting you in. “Your mother is in the kitchen. She’s just started making dinner.”

“Oh, okay.” You grin. “It’s great to see you, Mrs. Sim.”

“I swear you love Y/N more than me.”

You turn around and see Jake standing by the door, an affectionate look in his eyes. You direct your grin at him, too.

“Suck it up, loser.”

Jake’s guffaw rings in your ears even when your sister screams with unabashed joy as soon as she sees you.

#4. he broke your heart once (he could do it again)

You stare at the red thread wrapped around your finger. It’s dulled a bit now, compared to how it was a few years ago. Some of its shine is lost; it looks more opaque now. You crook your finger experimentally, knowing it's futile but still holding on to some hope that maybe Jake will feel it too.

To live for the hope of it all, as a wise song-writer once penned.

You startle when Jake sets a mug of coffee in front of you. His house is empty—your mother and Mrs. Sim went to buy groceries together and his father is out of the city on a business trip. Your sister is hanging out with her friends but told you to call her if you needed anything.

“Here you go,” Jake says, sitting down on the chair next to you. “Have some and then we can go buy some hangover soup.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, curling your fingers around the mug and savouring its warmth. The liquid inside is not too bitter, but not too sweet either—just how you like it.

“Feeling any better?”

You wince. Going out for dinner with Heeseung meant drinks were also attached. Being back in your hometown after weeks meant you had to check out all your favourite restaurants again and visit the ones that popped up after you left for college. The result: You swallowed down entirely too much soju, Heeseung and Jake had to physically carry you home, your head is killing you right now, and your embarrassment is at its peak.

When you woke up in the early afternoon to texts from your family members detailing their various absences, you reluctantly made your way out of your bedroom and to the Sims’ place. 

Which brings you here, perched on a chair at the Sims’ dining table, fiddling with your red string of fate, while the object of your thoughts sits right next to you.

“Yeah, a little,” you murmur in response to his question.

“Good.” Jake stretches his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of his midriff. You swallow. “Your alcohol tolerance is still the same.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” you counter. “You didn’t drink more than one bottle of soju.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were counting?”

You huff, ignoring the warmth that spreads to your cheeks. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m just joking,” he says, bringing his hands back down. “I was kinda surprised Heeseung has a girlfriend now.”

You hum, taking another sip of your drink. Your head still pounds, but the caffeine is kicking in and making you more lively. It is strange, though, seeing your childhood friend settle down. Judging by the way he talks about her, he’s completely smitten. She’s my soulmate, he had said, and I don’t even believe in my thread.

The memory makes hurt bubble up inside your throat, so you chug the remaining liquid in the mug.

“It’s nice, though,” Jake continues, something… wistful crossing his face. “I wish I had someone like that.”

You look away, staring down at the ring of coffee left on the wooden table from your mug. “Yeah, I guess… Aren’t you dating Chaerin, though?”

You bite the bullet—what’s the point, anyway? There’s no use in dragging it out. Not when he clearly doesn’t know that his soulmate is sitting right next to him. You can deal with the hurt that comes with rejection later.

Jake stills. You glance at him—he tilts his head confusedly. “Chaerin? No… What makes you think that?”

“Everyone said you guys were dating,” you say with a small, uncertain shrug. 

“I mean…” He blinks. “We hooked up once, but that’s really it.”

It’s your turn to blink now, bemused. “Huh?”

“Yeah, we were drunk and it just sorta happened? I dunno,” he says sheepishly. “We didn’t remember any of it later, so we just agreed to remain friends. Plus, her soulmate is Sunghoon.”

“Wait, what?” Your teeth worry your bottom lip. Your mind is swirling with questions—was it possible that you had misread Jake Sim all this time?

“Yeah,” he says softly. “It’s no big deal.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed things,” you apologise quietly. Despite all this, his words make a swell of optimism rise in your chest.

He shrugs. “I, uh, wouldn’t blame you. We didn’t talk much after… after everything.”

“Yeah.” Your admission is soft, regret burning a hole in your tongue.

“So, um…” Jake trails off, looking unsure of himself. That’s a first, you realise with a start. He’s usually so calm and collected, even in the worst times. “Do you still feel the same as you did a year ago?”

You suck in a breath. “Why—why would you ask me something like that?”

“I—just curious.”

His eyes land on yours, beseeching and glorious. Even when he’s just woken up, he looks like he’s been dipped in the sun’s golden rays. Your heart hammers inside your chest.

“Wait, can I ask you something else? Why… did you reject me that night?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re transported back to that fateful evening in July.

You stuttered the words out, and explained that you were in love with him, that you were pretty sure he was your soulmate, regardless of who your string was actually connected to. With every new sentence you tacked on, the emotion on Jake’s face vanished. Towards the end, you felt your face crumble.

He left you alone on the pavement, broken-hearted and lovesick.

Jake clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so harsh on you that day.”

“I don’t care about that, Jake,” you say simply. “I just want to know why.”

“Because I was stupid. I didn’t believe in the soulmate bullshit, but I know you do. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I—” He licks his lips before continuing— “The truth is, Y/N, I really, really like you… But I didn’t want to hold you back from finding your true soulmate—whoever was on the other side of your string—’cause I know they’re gonna be the one for you.”

If you weren’t sitting already, you’re sure Jake’s confession would have swept you off your feet and you would be a bumbling mess on his dining room floor. Seeing the forlorn look on his face, you nearly crumble. How stupid your soulmate is. How kind and caring and selfless. 

“So I rejected you. I thought I wouldn’t be able to make you happy.” He pauses for a moment, his voice dropping. “It’s still the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

You finally find your voice. “Jake…”

He laughs somberly. “You probably think I’m an asshole.”

“I could never think that,” you say firmly. Your hand finds his on the tabletop, and he laces your fingers together, staring at your connected palms with awe.

“I do think you’re a little bit dumb, because I’ve liked you too since, like, forever—”

“Define forever,” he interrupts, not unkindly.

“Well—maybe since the time you surprised me with all the physical copies of that book series I wanted for my fifteenth birthday?”

“Then,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, “I’ve loved you since before forever.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth. You feel a tug on your little finger as Jake moves his hand away from yours and cups your cheek with it instead. “I’ve also wanted to kiss you since before forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, drawing closer to you.

You lean forward and capture his lips with yours, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He parts his mouth with a sigh, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. His other free hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck; you wind your arms around his neck. The position is a bit cumbersome—the edge of the chair digs into your thigh, and he nearly knocks his elbow on the back of his chair—but his touch is searing hot, the welcome kind, the kind that makes you crave more and more and more.

“You promise you won’t do it again?” you ask later, out of breath and flushed.

“I promise,” he says, and he links his pinkie finger with yours to seal the deal.

The thread tied around it glows golden.

#5. he doesn’t even believe in soulmates (but he’ll try)

“You can’t see it?”

“I’ve told you a million times already,” Jake says patiently, “but I can’t.”

“How?” You look at him dubiously. “It’s literally a glowing golden thread connecting you and me.”

“I don’t need a thread to connect us,” your boyfriend quips. “I can think of better uses for a rope.”

You make a sound of disgust. “We’re at the library.”

Jake Sim grins at you, all bright and shining and vivid. “So?”

Taehyun lets out a pointed cough, typing on his laptop. “There are other people here,” he says, motioning to Gaeul, Chaerin and Sunghoon. All three of them are very obviously avoiding your gaze. Even the tips of Taehyun’s ears are pink. You stifle a giggle.

“Sorry,” Jake says, not sounding sorry at all. He picks up your hand again, thumb brushing against the knuckle of your little finger, right above the knot where the golden string is tied. He whispers to you, next, “I just don’t believe in it.”

“I know,” you say. “But you’re missing out on a lot.”

Jake hums. “I don’t believe in soulmates. But I believe in you.”

You roll your eyes, ready to chew him out for being a sappy romantic again, when his next words make your heart stutter.

“I think that’s good enough for me.”

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Just Kiss Her

James Potter x BSF!Reader

Summary: You find a few unsent letters with your name on them- literally.

WC: 2.1k

CW: use of {Y/N} - typo and nonsense it's 4am and I can't sleep.

The Gryffindor boys' dormitory was unusually lively for a day when James was absent. You sat cross-legged on James’s bed, surrounded by the mess that only four teenage boys could call normal. The faint scent of James’s shampoo lingered on his pillow behind you, a small comfort as the chatter of the room swirled around you.

Sirius groaned dramatically from his own bed, his leg propped up on a stack of pillows. He had injured it during their last Quidditch practice and was now milking the situation for all it was worth.

“Darling,” Sirius called, drawing out the word as he tilted his head toward you. “I demand attention. Do you know how utterly dull it is, lying here with nothing but Moony’s dull bookishness and Wormtail’s horrible color sense for company?”

“I’m literally right here, Pads,” Remus replied flatly, not looking up from his book.

“And you love me,” Sirius shot back without skipping a beat, grinning lazily.

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to Peter, who stood in front of the mirror with a tie hanging awkwardly around his neck. “I think the green one is better,” you offered. “It brings out your eyes.”

Peter frowned, his hands fumbling with the knot. “But is green too Slytheriny?”

“Not unless you start hissing and cursing muggleborns,” you replied with a teasing smile. “Just pair it with a gray jumper. Neutralize it.”

Peter nodded, muttering something about giving it a try before swapping it for a blue tie. Meanwhile, Sirius groaned again, this time louder.

“I’m dying, and none of you care,” he complained, flopping back against his pillows like a tragic figure in a poorly acted play.

“You’re not dying,” you said, leaning back on your hands. “You’ve got a bruised leg.”

“Bruised? Bruised?” Sirius gasped as if you’d mortally wounded him. “That’s how they minimize war injuries, you know. Next you’ll say I’m malingering.”

“Which you are," Remus said, still not looking up from his book.

Sirius turned to you, ignoring Remus entirely. “Come on, love. Entertain me. Read me a story or sing me a song or- oh! Recite poetry! You’re good at that.”

“I’m not reciting poetry for you, Sirius.”

“Why not?” Sirius pouted. “You do it for James.”

“That’s because James actually asks nicely,” you quipped, smirking.

At that, Sirius clutched his chest as if you’d stabbed him, his grin betraying his dramatics. “Et tu, Brute? I thought you loved me.”

“Loved, past tense,” you teased. “You’re officially too high maintenance.”

“You wound me,” Sirius said, throwing an arm over his face. “Moony, tell her she’s being cruel.”

“Not getting involved,” Remus said quickly, still reading but now smiling faintly.

Sirius turned his face toward you again, his pout morphing into a cheeky grin. “Fine, if you won’t entertain me, at least come sit over here so I can lean on you while you’re ignoring me.”

You rolled your eyes but stood anyway, walking over to Sirius’s bed. “You’re unbearable.”

“I prefer entertaining,” he replied smugly as you perched beside him, letting him lean his head on your shoulder.

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the sound of Remus flipping another page in his book and Peter muttering to himself as he fiddled with another tie. Sirius, still leaning on your shoulder, let out a long, exaggerated sigh, clearly waiting for you to indulge him.

“Alright,” you finally relented. “I’ll read something to you. Happy now?”

Sirius grinned triumphantly. “Ecstatic. Now, find something good. None of that boring rubbish you usually bring in here.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood and glanced around the room. “Fine, but I’m not wasting my time reading some textbook or Quidditch manual. Let’s see if James has something decent for once.”

Sirius perked up, watching you make your way over to James’s trunk. “Careful, darling, you’re stepping into dangerous territory. Prongs’s secrets and all that.”

“Oh, he won’t mind,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “Besides, if he didn’t want me snooping, he’d have locked it.”

Remus glanced up from his book. “I’m not sure that logic holds up, actually.”

You knelt beside the trunk, lifting the lid to find the usual James Potter mess: a tangled heap of robes, a few textbooks with worn edges, and a Gryffindor scarf stuffed haphazardly into the corner. But what caught your eye was a small, battered box tucked near the bottom, half-hidden beneath a crumpled cloak.

“What’s this?” you murmured, pulling it out and turning it over in your hands.

Sirius’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Oh, now that looks promising. Open it.”

Remus let out a quiet sigh. “I wouldn’t- ”

“Of course you would,” Sirius interrupted. “It’s Prongs. What’s his is practically hers anyway.”

Ignoring their back-and-forth, you pried open the lid. Inside was a disorganized stack of parchment, some neatly folded, others crumpled and torn. Some were even singed at the edges, as if they'd narrowly escaped being thrown into the fire. Every single one had your name scrawled across the top in James’s messy handwriting.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“What is it?” Peter asked, peeking over your shoulder.

“Letters,” you said softly. “They’re… they’re addressed to me.”

Sirius’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Oh, now this is good."

Remus closed his book, his brow furrowed. “Are you really going to read those? They’re personal.”

“They’re addressed to me," you replied, a mixture of curiosity and nerves stirring in your chest.

“You’re doing him a favor,” Sirius said breezily. “If he didn’t want you to read them, he’d have gotten rid of them properly.”

You hesitated for a moment before unfolding the first letter. The parchment was slightly wrinkled, and the ink looked rushed, as though James had written it in a moment of unfiltered emotion.

Dear {Y/N},

You probably think I’m an idiot. Honestly, you wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve tried to write this letter five times already, and I keep throwing them in the fire. But this one… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll keep it. Maybe one day I’ll find the courage to actually give it to you.

You laughed today. I can’t even remember what I said to make you laugh, but Merlin, it was the best sound I’ve ever heard. I keep playing it over in my head like an idiot, and it’s driving me mad.

I think I love you. No- scratch that. I *know* I love you. But I can’t tell you. What if you don’t feel the same? What if it ruins everything? Maybe it’s better this way. At least I can still be near you, even if it kills me to pretend.

Your voice caught, and you lowered the letter, your hands trembling slightly.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius said, looking genuinely impressed. “Prongs has it bad.”

Peter nodded mutely, wide-eyed.

“You really shouldn’t be reading those,” Remus muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

But you couldn’t stop. You reached for another letter, this one more crumpled, as though James had balled it up in frustration before deciding to keep it.

I tried to burn this one too, but I couldn’t. I can’t seem to get rid of the things I write to you, even if they’re pointless. You’ll never read them anyway. But writing them feels like the only way to stop my chest from caving in whenever I see you with someone else. Merlin, I’m pathetic.

I wish I could just tell you. But then what? You’d laugh, or worse, pity me. I couldn’t stand that. So, I’ll keep pretending. Keep being your best friend. Keep loving you quietly.

“Wow,” Peter said softly.

You sat back on your heels, clutching the letters tightly. All this time, James had been carrying these feelings- for you- and he’d never said a word.

“See?” Sirius said, looking smug. “Told you this was worth it.”

Remus shot him a glare. “You’re not helping.”

You looked up, your heart pounding. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

Sirius leaned back against his pillows, crossing his arms behind his head. “Because he’s James bloody Potter. He’d face down a hundred Death Eaters without flinching, but one look at you and he’s a goner.”

The door to the dormitory burst open, and James Potter strolled in, looking thoroughly windswept from Quidditch practice. His broom was slung over his shoulder, and his Gryffindor scarf dangled loosely around his neck.

“Alright, lads, miss me?” he asked cheerfully, dropping his broom beside his bed. He glanced at Peter, who was still fiddling with his tie. “Wormy, mate, what’s that? A tie? You look like you’re about to slither off into the dungeons.”

Peter huffed, pulling at the tie. “It’s green with gray accents. She said it works.”

James’s laugh was loud and carefree, but then his gaze landed on you, sitting on the floor with a stack of letters clutched tightly in your hands. The open box on the floor beside you caught his eye, and his face immediately fell.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharp.

You froze for a moment but quickly regained your composure, hugging the letters closer to your chest.

“Reading,” Sirius said from his bed, his tone positively delighted. “Turns out, Prongs, you’re a regular Shakespeare. Real heartfelt stuff.”

James paled as he took a step toward you, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and embarrassment. “Put those down. Now. They’re mine.”

You stood quickly, holding the letters tight to your chest as if they were a treasure. “No, they’re mine. They’ve got my name on them.”

“{Y/N},” James groaned, his face turning a deep shade of red. He lunged for the letters, but you stepped back just in time.

“I don’t think so,” you said, grinning as you unfolded another letter. You held it up dramatically, clearing your throat. “Let’s see what this one says- ”

“Don’t you dare!” James exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.

“Dear {Y/N},” you read aloud, dodging James as he tried to grab the letters again. “You’re going to kill me one day, and I’ll probably thank you for it. Today, you- ”

James groaned loudly, lunging for you again. “I mean it! Give them back!”

But you were faster, darting around Sirius’s bed and laughing as James scrambled to catch you. “Today, you laughed at my joke in Transfiguration, and I swear I forgot how to breathe- oh, that’s good, James! Real poetic!”

Sirius howled with laughter from his bed, clapping his hands. “Oh, this is gold. Absolute gold.”

Peter, wide-eyed, muttered, “Should we stop them?”

“No,” Sirius said quickly, waving a hand. “This is the most fun I’ve had all day.”

James was completely flustered now, his hair even messier than usual as he chased you around the room. “You’re impossible!” he said, his voice breathless.

“And you’re in love with me,” you teased, waving the letters in the air. Suddenly you paused, as if reality hit you. Your smile grew tenfold as you looked at the letters then to him with wide eyes. “Merlin, you're in love with me!”

That made him freeze for half a second, giving you just enough time to read aloud again. “You’ll never read this, but Merlin, I can’t stop thinking about you- ”

Before you could finish, James lunged and finally managed to catch you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You squealed in surprise and delight as the two of you toppled backward into the open closet, the letters scattering around you.

James pinned you gently, his face mere inches from yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re an absolute menace,” he said, though his tone was more fond than frustrated.

“And you’re a hopeless romantic,” you shot back, grinning up at him.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his hazel eyes filled with something intense and unspoken. Then, before you could say another word, he kissed you- soft and sweet at first, but quickly turning urgent and consuming.

You forgot about the letters entirely as his hands framed your face, his lips moving against yours like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. Your laughter melted into the kiss, your hands clutching the front of his Quidditch jumper as if to anchor yourself.

From outside the closet, Sirius’s voice rang out. “Bloody hell, Prongs, save some for later!”

James pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his face flushed and his smile wide. “Remind me to hex Sirius later,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

“Deal,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him again.

Sirius groaned loudly. “Merlin, they’re hopeless. Wormtail, fetch me a bucket; I’m going to be sick.”

Remus sighed, his tone amused. “I think we’ve just lost James for the rest of the day.”

[solxamber]

hii i'm here for the holiday event ! (and to all your works too ofc)

[ Pomefiore, 6, fluff/comedy ]

happy holidays to you btw!! 🫶 either genre is fine if only one is allowed -

i got so excited when i saw pomefiore

Unfiltered || Vil Schoenheit

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "Say that again" ; Genre: Comedy

Vil was always poised, elegant, and in control of every situation. Except, apparently, when sedated.

You sat beside him in his private recovery room, watching as the usually composed Pomefiore housewarden mumbled nonsense with a wad of gauze stuffed in his cheek. His flawless hair was slightly askew, and his glassy eyes blinked up at you with uncharacteristic awe.

“You’re so… so pretty,” he slurred, reaching out to gently pat your face like you were a particularly mesmerizing painting.

You stifled a laugh, catching his hand. “Thanks, Vil. How are you feeling?”

“Like… like a cloud,” he muttered, frowning. “A very beautiful cloud. Not like Epel. Epel’s a mean little apple.”

From the corner, Epel huffed indignantly. “I’m literally right here.”

“Shh,” Vil whispered, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m talking to my beloved.”

Your cheeks flushed as Epel snorted and promptly decided this was the best day of his life. “Vil, you’re drugged out of your mind. You’re going to regret this later.”

Vil’s face morphed into something resembling horror. “Regret? No. Never. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow, smirking. “Care to say that again?”

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he repeated, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world.

You leaned closer, voice dripping with playful teasing. “Say it one more time for the people in the back?”

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said earnestly, reaching up to hold your face between his hands. His fingers squished your cheeks, making you look like a fish.

Epel choked on laughter, scrambling for his phone. “I gotta record this.”

“Shut up, Epel,” you hissed, batting his phone away. “Vil, you’re gonna make me cry over here.”

“I love you,” Vil said suddenly, his expression somehow both dreamy and sincere.

Your heart skipped a beat. “I… I love you too.”

“Say it again,” he demanded, his eyes wide and glassy.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Vil—”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“One more time.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, glancing at Epel, who looked like he was about to combust from holding in laughter. “I love you, Vil.”

“Good.” He gave a sleepy smile and promptly passed out, head lolling to the side.

The next day, when Vil was back to his usual, regal self, you wasted no time.

“So,” you began, arms crossed as you leaned against the vanity in his room. “Do you remember anything about yesterday?”

“Of course,” Vil said coolly, dabbing at his lip balm. “I behaved with my usual grace, even under anesthesia.”

“Oh, really?” Your smirk widened. “Because I distinctly remember you calling me the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Vil froze, his hand hovering mid-air. “...Did I?”

“And making me say ‘I love you’ five times before you passed out.”

The lip balm clattered to the counter. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You whipped out your phone and hit play. The recording was loud and clear: “Say it again. Say it again. One more time.”

Epel’s laugh could be heard faintly in the background.

Vil buried his face in his hands. “This is a nightmare.”

“Don’t worry,” you cooed, patting his shoulder. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me too, Vil.”

“...Say that again,” he muttered, his ears turning red.

“Nice try.”

Masterlist

[4k-starbound-k4]

Yandere Headcannons

Ft: Childe, Cyno, Kinich, Sethos, Wriothesley

Trigger warnings: Fem!reader, Stalking, Noncon, Breeding, Blood, Somnophilia, Abuse of power, Bondage, Corruption, Degradation, Male Manipulation, Slave kink, Oral fixation (m!receiving), Prey kink

Childe

FREAK! FREAK FREAK!

He stalks you for hours on end, days even.

Leaving the store in your cute adventurers’ outfit it drives him crazy. Those ribbons around her thighs make his mind spin.

When a sneznayian merchant comes to make a trade deal he’s pissed when the man calls you beautiful and implying you’d make a good wife! He knows you will but you’ll be HIS WIFE!

He thinks of how clueless you are when people start going missing and how members of the fatui don’t bother you anymore.

He especially thinks when you leave your bedroom window open. Far too many nights has he climbed inside and curled up to you.

You only bury your face in your pillow when he buries himself deep inside of you. He’s careful to go slow and stretch you just enough for him to do this every night. His fingers abusing your clit as you writhe in a deep sleep.

Tsarita forbid you moan another man’s name while he takes you. He’d have to spend the next night getting rid of them — and that pissed him off.

So when you have an eventful meeting with the head of Northland Bank, and you're forced to walk home with damp panties from the man’s constant teasing...

He’s quite quick to follow you home after expelling anger on an innocent mililithe guard. He didn’t care that blood stained his clothes or his hands. He wasn’t going to let that bitch banker take you from him. You’re his prize, and he had spent to many nights cumming in his hand to spare you from getting pregnant.

Not tonight.

He knocked. How polite. So, when you open the door to a deranged Childe covered in blood, your first thought is: he must be hurt!

“Childe? A-are you okay? Do you need me to help you?”

His eyes train on yours before walking in, forcing you back into the apartment before he wrapped a hand around your neck with a voice almost deadly, “You stupid slut, I’ve been so good not cumming in you! I haven’t hurt you either. Yet you let that bastard touch you!”

“Huh— I—ack I don’t—“

He walks you to your bedroom before shoving you against the wall, pushing up your night gown, “You’re mine, I’m going to make sure of that. I’ll make sure my sweet girl doesn’t get used by bad men.” He purrs in your ear before biting your shoulder.

Cyno

As the General Mahamatra you’d expect him to never do anything so terrible, especially not to the woman he loves.

Well, um, fuck the police!!

You were simply a student at the Akademyia, working hard on your studies. You never did anything wrong. So when The General enters your house one night, under the pretense of hearing you were studying forbidden knowledge, he took count of how you only slept in a tiny pair shorts and a sheer baby doll dress.

Your teary eyes and breasts made his head fog. He knew you were innocent the minute you threw yourself at his feet, begging for him to realize it was a misunderstanding.

“Please sir, you have to understand! I’m just studying King Destraht and the disappearance of dreams. I promise I didn’t do anything wrong! Please believe me.”

“If that’s the case you should become a dream keeper and stop wasting our time with nonsense.” He gripped your hair, making you look in his eyes as he shamelessly soaked up the sight of your breasts and tears. A sick smirk on his face as he lets you go roughly.

That’s when he started watching you. How you ran around Sumeru city, books to your chest. He wondered how much he could get away with.

It started simple. Like how you would you help him with task. Then he started questioning: would you follow him? Would you change your outfit if he said it wasn’t his standard? He found your innocence a major turn on.

He often called you naive and sweet, always ending it with, “If somebody hurts you tell me and I’ll handle it.”

So you’re walking back to the desert late at night. He stalked you into the ruins of the temple.

He quickly blows out the torch leaving you in the dark, and he takes no time before pinning you to the ground. Your eyes can’t see anything, especially not as well as his.

He pushes up your skirt and pulls off your panties as he kisses your neck. You crying and trying to fight was so cute, before he started to finger you slowly. Your first time being taken in a dirty temple by a man you couldn’t see! Oh, it stung his heart to see you so scared.

But he didn’t stop, making sure to take his time with you. He wanted you so confused as to why your pussy was craving this. He was suddenly training you for his size as he gets rougher. He feels you cum several times before his stamina depletes. He himself cumming inside you three times, pumping it in and out, until your pussy was dripping, a frothy mess from his cum and yours.

He left you there, but waited from afar as you went home crying, cum dripping down your leg as he had stolen your panties.

He waited for you to tell him, and his prayer came a month later when you came to him crying on a rainy night.

“Can I- can I stay with you please? Someone — a month ago — someone they- they forced themselves on me. I was so scared.” You cry.

“Sure thing, come tell me what happened. In detail so I can help you.” He picks you up and makes you straddle him on his couch.

As you tell him the story, he begins getting hard. Grinding you suddenly on his cock, burying his nose in your neck.

“C-Cyno? What are you doing?” You whimper as he kisses your neck.

“Shhh let me make it better.”

“Wait, Cyno.” You shake your head as he pins you to the couch.

It isn’t until he’s inside, and you're crying, does it click that it was him. You sob, but the way your cunt squeezes him, he knows you're bound to forgive him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

You'll forgive him because you're just so nice.

Kinich

Kinich is such a good boyfriend.

There’s truly nothing to complain about. He kisses you as much as he can and he loves you unconditionally. His family was terrible and he swore to never be like his father. So, each night he cradles you and tells you how much he loves you.

It was a normal day as you help around the Scions of the Canopy. Before heading home to make sure Kinich has something nice for dinner after the night's war.

When the door opens, his arms quickly find your waist. He reaches under your shirt and grips your breast as he kisses your neck leaving harsh bruises trailing down your throat.

“K-Kinich… are you okay?” Your voice shakes and shivers at his rough touch.

“Hehehe, You’re such a slut. Look at you shivering just from my touch.” A familiar voice made you glance back.

It’s Kinich's body however his hair was yellow and green; his eyes were more like emeralds than topaz. He has horns and a tail.

Ajaw

“I’m so tired of him fucking you like a princess. You’re nothing but a fatui slut. So you’ll be my pretty slave. Right? Wouldn’t want to lose Kinich’s soul forever, would we?” He taunts pushing your legs apart.

“Wait-I.” you whimper as he grinds on your ass.

“Are you denying me?! The great K'uhul Ajaw,” He pulls you away from the table, and throws you to the floor, before pulling you up to your knees pulling out his cock, pushing the sweaty member to your face.

“Go on suck, slut. If you do well at pleasing me, I won’t hurt you.” He laughs pushing his tip past your lips and forcing you to deep throat him.

Deep, spastic thrusts, nothing like your loving boyfriend who let you go at your own pace and was ever so kind. He fucked your throat like it was the last high he’d ever achieve.

When he cums he’s thoughtful enough to force you to swallow half. Pulling out and jerking the last few ribbons all over your face and tongue.

He drops down and kisses you, claws shredding your clothes from your skin as he forces you on your back. Threatening to make you fall in love with his cock so that you’ll beg for his cock instead of Kinich.

He puts your legs over his arms and fucks into you, immediately bottoming out, coaxing embarrassing squishing sounds, making you tear up as he laughs.

“Fatui slut, look at you so wet for the great Ajaw! Stop pretending you’re a good girl, you like being pinned down and fucked like my prey.” He laughs and mocks.

“No-no I’m a good girl. Please, I’m a good girl, Kinich please.” You moan, fucked a little too stupid.

“Stupid slut! My stupid human slut. I’m going to breed you stupid, we have all night til the resurrection, I’m going to break you.” He growls.

Sethos

Lucky girl. That’s what you are a lucky girl.

He watches as you walk around Sumeru. His eyes trained on you like a moth to a flame. He’s so quick to get in your way and help you.

“Hi! I was wondering do you need help?" he asks.

You appear to be from the city a bit turned around in the desert.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to get to the jungle. I’ve been traveling from Natlan and I can’t seem to find the best way to the city?” You sigh.

“Well let me be your guide.” He offers his hand and starts the walk to the City.

He didn’t leave your side. Not when you had to find your mother. Not even when you were heartbroken to find out your mother was no longer in Sumeru. He even started leading you back to Natlan all for no charge.

He sat beside you on the cool morning in the desert sand. The both of you staring at Natlan in the distance.

“Hey? I mean I know you didn’t find your family but if you want you can um… stay with me?” He offers.

“Haha, don’t worry I have people waiting for me back in Natlan.” You smile sweetly at him.

“Oh yeah? Friends?” He scoots closer to you.

“Yeah, and a boyfriend. He was supposed to come with me, but he was busy with work.” You explain as his smile falls.

Cut to an hour later, him pushing your face into the wall of some ruins as he snapps his hips, making you cum and shiver. Your pretty eyes filling with tears as he grits his teeth, pulling out only to pick you up.

His hand firm on your throat as he pulls you back down on his fat cock, “You’re so lucky I saved you. Mmm baby don’t cry, you’re. So. Fucking. Uh-Lucky! I’m going to fucking keep you. Don’t worry I’ll give you a nice big family.”

Wriothesley

OH THE DUKE

When he caught you walking around with the hearth children, his heart almost exploded, gazing attentively as he watched you care for the kids.

He figured he could handle seeing you occasionally, but when he learned from Lyney that you left for Sneznaya often, it pissed him off.

He thought of ways to keep you but each time, he missed mark. He tried talking but it was taking long. He was an awkward guy after all, what would girl like youvwant with him?

Thats when there was an opening. Unwanted Fatui actives opened way to a court case. And you were brought to the fortress for questioning. The sight of you in hand cuffs makes his stomach sink and flip.

He can't help but watch you squirm and glare at him. He kows you would hate him if he tried anything, but you keep making it so hard.

“I’ll let you out, but only if you agree to my terms.” He orders, narrowing his eyes at you.

“What do you want! I told you I haven’t seen anything.”

“Due to your individual crimes, as well as your part in Fatui matters, you’ll stay here under my watch. When you prove to be a model citizen, I’ll let you free.”

“You want to monitor me?!”

He nodds and watches as you shake your head in a silent agreement, expecting to be out in days.

-

Now, almost a year later he's splitting you on his cock for the 4th time today. His cute little office slut, forced to drip his cum whenever he decides.

He revels in your muffled moans from the muzzle he keeps you confined to. Your hands bound in hand cuffs whilst fucks into you sporadically.

When he’s done he pulls out and takes off the muzzle, “Do you want to go back on the surface?”

You merely shake your head, leading him to bury himself within your cunt again. He allows you to sit on his lap as he does paperwork.

[cherrylovelycherry]

Okay, maybe Ratio x gn!reader tarte aux fraises? i know u love ratio muehehe

.note. omg oke oke, i know what i have to do. ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ (I always end up writing so many words that I have to erase pieces of the original idea. T_T)

𓂅new order. "tarte aux fraises."

Try hard

pairing. dr ratio x gn!reader cw/genre. angst, academic pressure, ratio being rude, again. synopsis. Like he said, you just need to try hard. And if you can't handle the pressure, what better than to withdraw from medical school? full menu

"No," His eyes on you, by those sharp words, coming together with the other glances of your classmates.

"Uhm, would it be a possible case of appendicitis?" You spoke, something nervous, but your words were almost like a question rather than an affirmation.

"Wrong,"

His voice again, almost as if he were glad of your mistake.

"Are you answering or are you asking me, Y/N?" Ratio spoke, almost with a despicable tone.

You just looked down.

It was almost always the same, for him, all your answers are wrong, he always had to find something wrong with what you said.

"If you're going to answer again as your classmate, refrain from talking and just say you didn't study anything." Ratio said, for all your classmates in the room.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I still continue teaching some of you."

Oh, and you knew perfectly well that he was referring to you.

He says, almost as if your existence were a total nonsense for him.

"All of you are dumb, you all have the same level of intelligence as an Earthworm, maybe a little less than one even." His words come out almost sharp again.

"How can it be possible you can't even answer the simplest question?" Ratio spoke out, almost frustrated by the lack of intelligence on most of his students.

Your cheeks became red, the way Ratio spoke was always so harsh, so harsh and direct, and even more so if it was you who answered a question, he never missed an opportunity to show that you were wrong in front of everyone else.

"Now, that's enough chit-chat, back to the topic." He looked at the board, his expression was somewhat serious, his arms behind his back, as he stood in the middle of the classroom.

"The appendix is a small, worm-like structure that branches off the back of the colon. It's located in the lower right lobe of the abdomen. The main problem with appendicitis is when it becomes infected and then blocks all waste product from leaving the colon." He spoke, standing at the front of the class.

"What does that mean?" he spoke again. This time with a much easier question than he asked you.

"Mhm, you," he pointed to a student.

"…That means all the waste from everything that comes through the digestive system doesn't have anywhere to go, and can back up into all of your abdominal cavity," She said, with some nerves, but keeping her words as firm as she could.

"Correct." He spoke, as he saw her answer, with a much calmer expression this time.

"The appendix becomes inflamed and very sensitive when an infection begins to form in it. You can experience fever chills that go down into your groin like cold water. The most common pain is in the abdomen, specifically in the lower right side. It can be mistaken for a stomach ache, or even menstrual cramps. But with further care, it can be determined as appendicitis." Ratio speaks again, almost a little happier.

"Anyone else?" He asked.

"If there is no intervention, it could explode," this time you dared to speak again, trying to sound firm.

"A precise answer, even from you, for a change," He spoke with a little more than a sarcastic tone, but as usual, he can't seem to say anything without adding an annoyed tone to everything he says.

"That's true. An appendix that is left untreated can burst, or perforate. But not always because of pain close to the appendix area will be necessary to remove or attempt an intervention." He says, as he returns to look at the board.

"If the appendix bursts, the pain might go away, but a much worse process, is going to start. The appendix will begin to break down, and the bacteria and pus from the organ can pass into the abdominal cavity, causing a widespread and severe infection. This is called peritonitis." Ratio spoke, his voice almost firm, and serious again.

You felt somewhat calmer, but still, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

Was it necessary that I always talk to you like this?

Because after all, you were his partner.

Ratio kept his eyes on you for a few moments, as if analyzing your expression. He almost always knew when you had those thoughts.

As he finishes speaking, the class bell begins to ring, almost as a sign that the class just ended.

"You are all dismissed." Ratio said, putting his hands behind his back, his eyes looking at the students as they began to leave the room.

You focused on keeping your stuff, without a hurry, because you weren't very excited to eat in medical school. The food wasn't so good or appetizing there.

The room was getting emptier and emptier, except for just the two of you, since you were the last one to leave.

Ratio leaned against the front of the desk, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, he had something in mind to discuss with you.

"Y/N." His voice came out quite firm, and almost demanding.

"Yes?" Your voice almost sounded like a whisper, a whisper of nervousness, still, you answered him.

You could already feel what kind of a talk he was going to have with you now

Ratio seemed quite serious, his eyes almost fixed on you, as if analyzing your every move.

He waited a few seconds before speaking. He still retained his serious expression.

"You're falling behind on a lot of the classes." He spoke, with an almost severe voice.

You just looked down.

He knew that you didn't always answer very intelligently, but it seemed like he just liked using every single opportunity he got to be harsh on you.

His arms were still crossed in front of his chest, keeping his position in front of the desk.

"I know…" your voice came out a little smaller this time.

Ratio sighed, he didn't change his position or expression, on the other hand, yours became somewhat more tense, you already knew that he was far from finished.

"Not only that," he continued to speak, his voice now more demanding.

"You don't usually answer my questions as intelligently as you should. You answer in ways that are almost as unintelligent as the others." he spoke again, his voice slightly higher than before.

"You know you should study more."

Again, a tone that seemed somewhat irritated.

"I am,"

"You're not." Ratio continued, his voice suddenly became very firm.

You can't help but feel even more self-conscious, more tensed than before.

He was right, even if he was, he didn't always have to say it that way.

"I don't even know why you're still in this class, if you've answered right a small percentage of times."

"But i'm trying, Ratio," You spoke, this time directing yourself towards him as your equal, as you did in private.

"Trying," He repeated. "You are just not trying hard enough."

Ratio's hands now moved from his chest, to his sides, still leaning against the table.

That didn't seem to change his expression at all, the same seriousness.

"You need to study more, you need to stop falling behind so much, to be more firm, and at least,"

He stopped, for a few seconds, as if thinking of his next words.

"To answer my questions correctly more times than you already do, stop with this mediocrity."

His tone became almost more severe.

"Honestly, I don't know why you don't take your time to pay more attention." He continued, with that severe, demanding tone.

"You're not in your old secondary education anymore, these are more complex medical concepts to treat complex diseases."

He said again, still keeping his tone and position.

"I'm going to try harder," you said.

"You better."

Ratio's answer was short, but the seriousness with which it was given almost made you even more tensed.

Again, a few seconds of silence, Ratio seemed to be thinking of his next words.

"I'm going to start being more demanding with you…" he spoke, leaning a little more against the desk, his eyes still fixed on you.

"I won't let you pass with the bare minimum in my classes" The feeling you have after you hear those words is the most nervous of all.

Ratio always got that demanding, and hard tone when talking to you about studies.

You know perfectly how serious he was when he said that.

"I won't go easy on you anymore," he says, in a much firmer tone.

"From now on if you don't answer correctly more times than you do now, you won't pass my classes."

Ratio was very strict with his classes, and even more so when it came to you.

"No more mediocre answers, I want you to start actually using that brain that you have." His tone now very demanding.

"You are going to start giving more intelligent answers, and not stupid ones that any other student could give."

A few days have passed since that talk between you and Ratio.

He has become much more demanding, and much stricter with his classes.

His questions were much harder to answer, and he always waited for intelligent answers from you.

He had put you in the spotlight every time you were in class, he had increased the number of questions he asked you, and every time you answered, he seemed to be analyzing your every word.

But of course, you noticed, in your nervousness after saying 'medium-great' answers, how your classmates didn't answers difficult questions like you. Not to mention that there were always two or one student whom he always congratulated for her efforts.

Ratio continued with the same demanding attitude, continuing to set high standards for you.

He kept asking you difficult questions, and even if you answered one correctly, he would go on to another, more complex one.

He didn't miss a single opportunity to point out your failures, and you could always see the satisfaction on his face, whenever you got the answer wrong.

Even now, you can feel his gaze on you, as if he's waiting for you to say something wrong, to see him frown.

The way he seemed to be always focused on you in the class, no matter how hard you answered the questions.

Everyone could tell that even though you were his partner, he didn't spare you from his demands for answers.

You had to constantly use that huge book, and study more and more every day. It was becoming tiresome because you barely had time for anything else, and on the other hand, your classmates seemed to be studying less than you.

The bell for the end of class had just been rung, the majority of the class was already picking their stuff to leave.

But you knew very well that Ratio was still there waiting for you to approach.

And yes, you were going to do that.

With calm steps and somewhat anxious, you approached the large desk near the board.

"Uhm, Veritas?" You said, carefully.

"Can we eat together?" You asked, knowing that after this class he would no longer dictate another one in the day, and you too, had no other class for today.

Ratio was sorting through some papers, putting them in various folders on his desk, with that same serious expression he had the rest of the time.

When he heard your voice, he stopped sorting papers, and looked at you.

His eyes seemed sharper every time you looked into them.

Without taking his eyes off you, he placed the last folder in place, and rested his hands on the table.

He didn't answer immediately, as if he was thinking about your request.

"Is there a reason?"

Ratio's tone was somewhat firm, his eyes still fixed on you, as if questioning why you, out of nowhere, suddenly wanted to eat with him.

"No,"

You didn't really know why, either.

Maybe it was because you didn't want to be left alone. Or maybe because you needed a break, your brain had been filled with so much knowledge, so much information that you felt it was going to explode.

"I just want to be with you," Your voice coming out a little more nervous this time.

Ratio was still looking at you, his eyes, very much analyzing you, as if he was searching for a real reason.

It was always like this with him, he never answered anything immediately.

Still, he didn't take his eyes off you, as if he was analyzing your thoughts, your request, and your every action.

Finally, after a few seconds, he spoke.

"Did you study?" He spoke, with that demanding but firm tone. His gaze was still fixed on you.

Your body slightly tensed up. You knew that if you hadn't, he probably wouldn't eat with you.

Even if he was your boyfriend, he was always like this.

"I did," Your voice came out with a small firmness, you actually spent the night studying.

Ratio kept looking at you carefully, his expression didn't change, he seemed to still be analyzing you, as if searching for lies in your eyes.

"How many hours?" His tone was still demanding, but he always made sure to correct you, to be even firmer with his words.

On the other hand, you were getting nervous. It was true that you spent all night studying, you didn't even have time to sleep, but if you said that, he would probably make you feel guilty for it.

So to not prolong the question, you gave a firm answer.

"Six hours, I swear."

Your voice was still firm, but nervousness was clearly expressed in it.

Ratio didn't change his expression, his eyes were still fixed on you, as if he could tell if you were lying or not.

He kept looking at you, in those few seconds he didn't say anything. Still looking at you, until he broke the silence.

"You haven't slept any?" His tone was much more demanding this time, his brows slightly furrowed, as if telling you that it was a mistake.

You knew perfectly well that it was a mistake, you already regretted it the moment you said it.

A small feeling of guilt took hold of your body, knowing that you were about to be scowled for that.

"No…"

You said, trying to keep your voice somewhat firm, but nervousness was present in it.

Ratio crossed his arms in front of his chest, and his eyes became more severe, almost with annoyance at your answer.

You knew perfectly well that that would happen.

"How are you going to study properly if you don't even sleep?" He questioned, in a demanding tone, as usual.

If you didn't sleep, he would scold you and if you slept, he would scold you too.

At the endings, it happened, as always, you even shed a few tears.

And it seems that that gave him remorse and he ended up agreeing to eat with you.

Your eyes were somewhat swollen, not much, but they were.

He made sure to hold your hand while eating quietly in a cafe near medical school.

You could notice how he was looking at your eyes almost every second, as if seeing the tiredness in them.

He almost looked like he felt guilty for making you cry, but he would deny it.

Ratio knew how demanding he could be, and how it could affect you.

But of course, he didn't apologize, because that would imply admitting that he was wrong.

You could see how he squeezed your hand, carefully while eating, as if making sure that your hand wouldn't slip from his.

It was quite obvious that he felt regret for making you cry. No matter how hard he denied it, his actions and his grip on your hand would always give it away.

The rest of the lunch was a little quiet, both of you only spoke a few words from time to time, not a lot.

He still continued to eat in silence, watching you from time to time.

His grip was firm on your hand, a little tight, but it didn't bother you, it was rather calming for you.

When he finished eating, he got up, and pulled you to get up from your chair.

He still had a firm grip on your hand.

"Let's go." Was the only thing he said, as he started to walk out of the cafeteria with you, your hand still attached to his.

Ratio started walking, with you following behind with your hand in his.

He wasn't walking too fast, or very slow, he was walking at a reasonable pace, but he made sure that you kept up.

He pulled you to stick to his side, and he made sure to look at you every few seconds.

You were walking in almost total silence, no one dared to say anything, and this was a little strange. Normally he was the first to say something.

His tight grip on your hand, his way of looking at you from time to time, made you feel a little nervous, but at the same time calm.

He didn't say anything as he walked, but you dared to say something.

"Where are we going?" You asked quietly, looking up slightly at him as you walked.

He looked at you, and his grip squeezed yours a little. Ratio spoke again.

"To my apartment." He replied, in the same firm tone.

"To your apartment?" You were a bit startled by that answer, because there was no way he was taking you to his apartment.

"Don't be tense." Ratio said, his tone was somewhat firm, but softer than before.

Before you could say anything else, he continued to speak, his words were firm and demanding, almost leaving no room for questioning.

"We're going to there, you're going to take a shower, and then you're going to take a long nap.

"I don't-"

Before you could reply, Ratio quickly cut you off. "I don't care what you're about to say, you need to rest."

He spoke with that firm but authoritative tone.

"You're going to take a damn shower, and you're going to take a damn nap for as long as it takes to get you back in shape."

In a way, that made you smile.

His actions showed you that he still cared about you.

The last few days that had passed, were… very different. You spent them at Ratio's apartment.

Each day ended with him scolding you for studying so much, and falling asleep on his couch on several occasions.

You loved those moments with him, in spite of everything, you were really in love with him.

However, as quickly as those butterflies arrived in your stomach, they disappeared faster than they appeared.

"Incorrect again, Y/N,"

He said, holding his hand to the bridge of his nose.

"U-uh…" you said, feeling watched and judged by all your classmates at that moment.

You were currently in practical classes, you no longer just theorize.

"Less than a minute for the patient to bleed," he commented again, ratio, with total disapproval in his speech.

You stayed there, thinking about what to do, your mind running in circles to decide what to do.

And, without further ado, the girl that Ratio always congratulated, took her tweezers from your hands, starting to suture the patient.

You felt so stupid in that instant, the classmate that Ratio always complimented, always approved of her, even congratulated her, had just taken your tweezers from your hands.

You felt the gaze of your classmates on you. You could see that they were either feeling sorry for you, or judging you.

Ratio was silent, he looked irritated, but he wasn't scolding you.

The classmate who took the tweezers from her hands, finished suturing the patient completely, in what seemed to be a couple of seconds.

Talent always wins the effort.

"You've failed another suture." Ratio spoke, almost annoyed by your failure.

As always, whenever you made a mistake, he was always making sure to point it out, making sure to shame you in front of the rest of the class.

His disappointment was evident on his face, in his tone, his gestures.

"It's ridiculous, you can't even put a few damn stitches on a fake wound. How are you going to be a real doctor if you're always messing up everything?" His words were harsh, very much. His expression and his eyes, sharp, as always.

"You're not taking this seriously, you're making the same mistakes again and again." He continued, in the same irritated tone.

How could someone who studied so much, who spent many hours studying, fail so much? How could you fail so much, even though you spent so much time with the person who always seemed dissatisfied with you?

Your classmates' gaze, Ratio's gaze, your own self-judgment, and your frustration for being a complete failure, was too much. You felt your eyes begin to tear up, you could feel your hands shaking. You felt more and more nervous with every word coming out of his mouth. It wasn't just from the pressure, it was also from the frustration.

How was it possible, that he had so much patience, and complimented your classmate, even celebrated that she could suturate a patient, when you couldn't do the same?

His words, his looks of disappointment, they were starting to take their toll on you.

"You're right, doctor," you said, accepting his words, so that he would at least stop scolding you publicly. Ratio kept looking at you, that annoyed look still on his face.

You looked really small in his eyes. Small and weak, a complete failure. That's how he saw you at that moment.

"At this rate, I'm tempted to say that you're never going to be a good doctor."

You just nodded, not knowing what to answer, or if you should respond to that in the first place. The medical career was not easy, there were always scolding for everyone, but not scolding all classes with him.

You heard him say, 'Well, let's continue…', as he moved on to another kind of exercise.

You let your other classmates get closer to the practice stretcher, staying at the end of the group.

All you just did was play with your fingers and bite your lip, so you didn't cry. Because you couldn't even get out of the practice chirophan, because you'd have low grade. Although well, what a lower grade could he put on you if you already pulled the first exercise.

You looked up in the direction of Ratio, who was correcting a couple of your classmates on something. He was always correcting something, especially you.

Your eyes were beginning to become slightly red.

You really hated the suturations practices, you were never good at putting in a few damn stitches.

You were always clumsy, and your hands always trembled when you took the tweezers, like they were shaking now.

Why weren't you as talented as them? Why couldn't you even do something as simple as suturing?

"You're shaking, are you alright?" A voice came from behind you, you recognized who it was immediately.

It was the classmate who always did sutures perfectly, the one Ratio always complimented. She had a worried expression in her eyes, but you couldn't help but feel complete rejection and repulsion towards her.

Her question made you feel more humiliated.

"I'm fine." You replied, trying to sound firm, when in reality, your voice was on the verge of cracking.

She looked at you, not seeming to buy the answer you gave her.

She could see your hands shaking and you were biting your lip, it didn't seem like you were fine.

"Are you sure? You don't look very-" she tried to speak once more, but you didn't want her to continue.

"I said I'm fine, alright. Stop asking me that." You said, a little harshly, hoping that would make her shut up. Her eyes widened slightly at your response, she was surprised by your response. But, instead of being angry, she continued to look sorry for you.

"I'm just trying to-" she was about to say something again, but you were already fed up with her.

You were fucking jealous of her.

"Well, I don't want you to! Stop acting like you care about me!" You snapped at her, your voice louder than you expected it to be.

The rest of the class had turned their heads at you, including Ratio.

Why the hell did you do that?

The whole room was silent, the only noise present was your agitated breathing.

Ratio walked up to you, his eyes firmly on yours. He looked irritated, no, he looked angry at your reaction.

"To the hallway, now." He said firmly, gesturing for you to walk towards the hall.

You felt the eyes of your classmates on you, as you slowly walked out of the class, with Ratio behind you.

Once you got into the hallway, he closed the door behind him, leaving both of you alone in the hallway.

He looked at you, you could see irritation in his eyes.

He was completely irritated with the attitude you just had.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He said, his voice almost sounded like a whisper, but still firm.

"Why the hell did you lash out at her like that?" He continued, he was waiting for an answer, an explanation for your behavior, and he wouldn't accept any bullshit excuse.

You stood there, not knowing what to say, and avoiding looking directly at him.

You didn't know how to explain your attitude, you yourself didn't even understand why you had done that.

Maybe it was because you were irritated, annoyed by her, or just because Ratio paid more attention to her or others than to you, no matter how much you studied.

And you couldn't understand why that girl was always so perfect either. The perfect student, the one who always did the exercises and sutures perfectly.

You were increasingly sure that talent far outperforms effort.

As you stood there, avoiding looking at him, Ratio was growing more and more impatient as the minutes passed. He expected some explanation, an answer to his question. But all he got was silence and you avoiding his gaze.

"Are you going to answer or just stay there, biting your lip?" He spoke again, this time with a firmer tone.

Again, you stayed there, still and saying nothing.

"Okay, then," he said, entering the practice chirophan and closing the door behind him.

You stood there, outside the practice chirophan, alone, on your own, with only your thoughts swirling around your head. You could still hear your classmates continuing practicing suturing in the chirophan, while you were left outside.

Your mind was a mess, going from one thought to another, from one feeling to another; anger, frustration, confusion, disappointment.

And jealousy. A lot of jealousy.

You could hear Ratio's voice, scolding other students. And again, you heard him compliment the girl who always does sutures perfectly.

She was talented, she was perfect, the best student in his eyes. He seemed to adore her, much more than he praised you.

It was not possible to know with that man, he was a mystery.

You walked over and sat down on one of the seats in the hallway, your body completely tired. Both physically and mentally.

Poor girl, you were jealous of her, when not even she did it on purpose to be better than you.

The lesson was finally over.

You were sitting in the hallway, waiting for the whole class to leave, so you could enter and say something to Ratio.

But, to your annoyance, the girl who always did the perfect sutures, was one of the last to leave.

She was going to talk to Ratio, it was obvious.

So, you stayed in the hallway, watching as Ratio and that girl talked for a long time.

She looked happy, with a smile on her face. Ratio seemed in a good mood, he was listening to her speaking calmly. In fact, he was smiling, he was never usually that warm.

That image, that situation, it only irritated your mind more.

But you wouldn't do anything, because there was nothing to do.

Besides that in medical school, he was your teacher, not your boyfriend. So professionalism on his part was always ahead.

As the last student left, Ratio opened the practice chirophan and found you sitting on one of the seats in the hallway.

He looked at you, and for the first time, he had a slight hint of disappointment on his face.

He just looked at you for a few seconds, almost as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't.

He just let out a slight, silent, almost inaudible sigh.

"Come here." He said, gesturing to you to walk towards him.

You stood up, from the seat. You were about to walk towards him but, you suddenly felt nervous, your heart beating a little faster.

What if he wants to discuss that you're always getting low notes on the practical work?

Or maybe he wants to tell you that your effort is useless, because you'll never be as good as the other students.

Or even, he wants to kick you out of class for your recent behavior.

However, his words surprised you.

"I'm going to help you study," he said.

You really expected another scolding from him, but his words were soft.

Perhaps the excellent work of the best student in your class had change his mood.

"But I don't-"

Before you could respond, he cut you off, almost knowing what you were going to answer.

"I wasn't asking you, I was telling you." He said firmly.

He wasn't leaving room for questioning, if he was going to help you study, there was no use in trying to decline his offer.

In spite of everything, you couldn't help but get excited.

The thought of having his attention, and having an extra private class with him. You were really going to like it, you wanted to be alone with him.

In a way, it was a great opportunity to show him what you were capable of doing, and that you too had potential.

He gave you a small smile, as he saw the reaction on your face. And then he added, "We're starting today."

…

You liked being next to him, you feel like at school, almost like a teenage romance.

You were writing carefully what he explained to you, while he had an arm on your shoulders.

It moved you and made you nervous, even though your relationship was almost two years now.

He explained, corrected and commented, as usual. You nodded, listened and wrote what he said.

Everything was going well, until he suddenly paused, and he let out a sigh.

"There's something important I need to tell you." He said, suddenly, in a serious tone.

Your hands suddenly froze halfway between the page and writing. His words, his tone, his gaze. It made you feel nervous, your heartbeat increasing.

"What is it?"

Your voice came out in a somewhat nervous tone.

For a few seconds, he was serious, he didn't say anything, he just looked at you.

His eyes looking into yours, in a somewhat serious and intimidating way, before his expression suddenly change to one of slight annoyance.

"What the hell was that, what you did the other day?"

Ratio asked, suddenly changing the subject of the conversation.

You tensed up a bit, and bit your lip.

You knew immediately that he was referring to the little tantrum you threw, that day.

"I was…" you were at a loss for words, you didn't know what to say.

"I was just frustrated." You finally managed to say, your voice a bit low.

"Frustrated, right."

Ratio responded, in a slightly mocking tone.

"So you were frustrated, and you decided to take it out on a classmate, in front of the entire class?" Ratio looked at you, with that same serious and slightly annoyed expression.

Your heart was beating fast, you felt slightly guilty, knowing you acted inappropriately.

"I know it wasn't the best way to react, but…" you tried to explain yourself.

"No buts." He cut you off. "You embarrassed yourself, and you embarrassed me with your poor and childish behavior. As your teacher, I shouldn't have to deal with your tantrums.

His words stung a little, you felt ashamed.

But there was something else, behind his words. The mention of 'As your teacher'.

"I know, I'm sorry." You mumbled, looking down to the floor.

"I expect you to act like an adult. So I hope you'll apologize to your classmate." He said.

"I will."

You said, still avoiding his gaze, you didn't want to see his eyes, to see his expression.

That day wasn't the only one he helped you study on.

But as always, for him, everything was wrong in answers or in your diagnoses.

As you wrote down one of the last points of the list he had given you, he spoke up, looking at what you had written.

"That is incorrect," he said as he looked at one of the points.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide at his words. How could it have been wrong? The doubt began to consume your mind, and you felt frustrated that you weren't able to do everything perfectly.

Your frustration was beginning to grow, you had just spent hours studying and here he was telling you that you had all the things wrong.

You tried to protest, you tried to explain your answers, but he shut you down every time. His voice became sharper and firmer every time, he was losing patience with you and your constant mistakes.

Finally, he slammed the book on the table, the loud noise echoing through the empty room.

"That's it, enough. You're not getting anything right," he said, his voice stern.

You felt a pang in your chest from hearing his words. How was it possible that not a single thing you wrote was correct? Why couldn't you understand the concepts? Why were you always making mistakes?

Your hands began to tremble as you clutched the pen in your hand, your heart beating fast

You wanted to scream out in frustration and ask him why you weren't getting the answers right, but you knew he wouldn't be patient with you anymore.

"You should try harder, I'm going to do an exam on these topics for you all," he said.

And yes, you had to study alone, as you normally did.

But you didn't really understand why you didn't get any answers right.

Literally that's what books said, your answers were even the same.

So, what was happening to you?

That test was going to be in a week, and you were extremely stressed about it.

You had to prepare for the exam given by Ratio, but it wasn't easy. Despite reading the material multiple times, something wasn't clicking in your head.

The formulas, the methods, the diagnoses, nothing stayed in your head. And when you attempted to answer the questions, you found yourself making mistake after mistake.

After studying a few nights on your own, it was time to take the exam.

The day of the exam had arrived.

The atmosphere in the classroom was tense, everyone seemed nervous. You were shaking, your hands trembling as you clutched the pen. Everyone around you seemed to understand the material, but you were struggling.

Ratio started handing out the test sheets to each one of you, until he reached your desk.

He placed the paper in front of you, and your breathing hitched.

You dared to hold your gaze on his, for at least a while, looking for some security that he could give you.

But there was no security in his gaze.

He didn't give you any special look, no secret glance or anything that could make you feel more confident.

His expression seemed serious, almost like a challenge. It was clear that he expected nothing from you, to his eyes you weren't going to do the test well.

He knew it, and you knew it.

And as he finished handing them out, he spoke.

"You have an hour to finish. Start now." He announced, before going back to his desk.

You looked down at the questions, and your heart sank.

They were difficult, they were complex, and they were things you had never seen before.

You felt your hands begin to sweat, and your mind went blank. You tried to recall the information you had studied, but it was like trying to remember a forgotten dream.

The other students around you seemed to have no trouble with the test, they were already beginning to answer the questions.

But you, on the other hand, were stuck on the first question. The words and numbers on the page became a blur, your mind in complete mess.

As minutes passed, you found yourself still struggling with the first question. Meanwhile, other classmates were already on the second or third.

The pressure was immense. You tried to focus, you tried to concentrate. But your mind was racing, your heart was pounding in your chest.

You could hear the sound of the other students' pens on the papers, the ticking of the clock on the wall, the silence of the classroom.

Every sound seemed to echo in your head and only added to your anxiety.

Time was ticking by quickly, and you could feel your anxiety growing with each passing minute.

You had already spent 45 minutes on one question, and you hadn't even reached the halfway point.

Until you saw some of your classmates raise their hand so that Ratio could approach them and answer their doubts about some questions.

They were getting help, while you just sat there, panicking.

You wanted to raise your hand, to ask for help, just like the other students.

But you didn't do it, you didn't dare to. You felt too ashamed and embarrassed to admit that you were having so much trouble with the test.

You just continued staring at the exam, trying to decipher the questions.

And, with only 4 questions out of 20, you dared to raise your hand as well, so that he can get closer as well.

You looked up a little bit on your exam, watching it approach students back and forth.

Your still hand raised, you even moved it a little bit, to see it.

And so he did, he saw you for a few seconds, before approaching another of your classmates.

Your heart sank again.

You couldn't believe what had just happened.

He knew you were struggling, he saw you with your hand raised. But despite that he avoided you and went to answer someone else's doubts.

You felt a pang of pain in your chest, like a stinging realization.

Ratio didn't want to help you, he was ignoring you.

You weren't like the good students, the ones he always said were talented. You were just the one who couldn't understand anything, no matter how hard you tried.

You lowered your hand again, feeling humiliated.

With your cheeks somewhat red from shame, you lowered your gaze towards your exam, almost empty.

You tried to do it, you really tried.

Without realizing it, your eyesight was blurred, as you continued to try to write down what you found most coherent.

You were crying in the middle of the exam. But what a shame.

Well, at least you didn't sob, you just let the tears slip out of your eyes, because because your head was somewhat tilted down, it was more accessible for the tears to come out.

The time passed, and the other students handed in the exam sheets, one by one. And you were still on your seat, trying to come up with at least a minimum of sense.

The tension in the room grew with each passing minute.

You could feel the weight of everyone's gaze, even if no one was looking at you directly. It was like everyone was silently waiting for you to finish, to see if you could do it or not.

But the answer to that was becoming more and more evident with every passing minute.

And yet, you still tried, you tried so hard to write something.

You felt a knot forming in your throat as you tried to hold back your tears, but it was difficult.

Ratio's words echoed in your head again, "You should try a little harder."

How much harder did he wanted you to try? You were already struggling to keep up, and now you were literally crying.

With all your effort, you managed to answer some more questions. But still, the test paper looked almost blank.

Many of your answers were incorrect, even if you had tried your best.

When the time finally ran out, Ratio spoke up.

"Time's up," he said in his usual strict tone, standing up from his desk. "Those of you who haven't handed in your sheets, do so now."

You felt a wave of dread wash over you. You were one of the few who still had the papers on their desk.

Slowly, you raised your head to see that almost everyone else had already handed their papers to him.

With shaking hands, you gathered the papers on your desk and got up.

Your legs felt weak, but you somehow managed to make your way to the desk.

Ratio was there, waiting for your paper. He looked slightly indifferent, as if he was expecting this outcome.

You handed him the sheets with trembling hands, feeling a sense of shame and embarrassment. The weight of your poor performance was heavy on you, and you avoided meeting his gaze.

He took the papers without a word, and as he did, your eyes darted down to the answers on the paper.

You could see his expression of disappointment.

…

And it was worse than what you imagined.

Red marks and crosses were all over the page, almost each answer was incorrect.

After a week, he returned the exams to everyone in the classroom.

You didn't know how to hide your grade from the students sitting near you.

There was a big 0 on the exam cover.

A 0, no points at all. You had failed the test completely, and the evidence was there, for everyone to see.

The shame and humiliation hit you like a wave. Everyone was looking at their grades, comparing them and discussing among themselves. You wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

Ratio spoke up again, drawing everyone's attention. "As you can see, the results of the exam were… Disappointing."

He said, his eyes skimming over the class.

His eyes landed on some students, commenting on their good grades.

"But, there were some good grades. Congratulations to those who did well." He spoke, in a matter-of-fact tone.

You knew you'd never be like them.

When he finished the class, it was relatively short, as most of the time it was used to solve the exam together.

You rushed to grab your stuff by keeping your exam in your bag, before you left the big classroom, feeling nauseous.

The rest of the day passed by, but the shame and humiliation from the exam still lingered. You couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment, and the thought that you were the worst in the class.

You tried to avoid your classmates' gazes, fearing they would whisper or make fun of you.

The hours went by slowly, until the day had ended. You found yourself walking back home, feeling down, with your head hung low.

And then, you suddenly heard a voice calling out to you. "Y/N," the familiar voice said, and you froze.

You knew who it was.

Slowly, you turned around to see Ratio standing there, a few metres away from you. His expression was serious, his eyes fixed on you. Your heart started racing again, and you nervously clutched your bag strap tighter. What did he want?

He walked closer to you, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

He stopped a few steps away from you, looking down at you.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" He asked, his voice firm. You swallowed hard, nodding silently.

You were too afraid to speak, your throat was dry, as if you had never swallowed saliva again.

He motioned for you to follow him, as he walked towards a quieter part of the hallway, where there were less classroms.

Finally, he stopped in a quieter spot, turning to look at you.

He looked directly into your eyes for a moment, his gaze intense.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke, his voice softer than usual.

"I suppose you know why I wanted to talk to you," he began, tilting his head slightly.

You nodded again, knowing what he wanted to talk about. The failed exam.

"Yes…" you whispered, your voice barely heard.

He let out a small sigh.

"Your performance on the exam… It was quite unsatisfactory."

His words were straightforward, he didn't hide his disappointment.

Your heart sank even further.

He was saying what you already knew, what he already wrote on the paper of red marks and crosses.

"I didn't expect much, to be completely honest. But I didn't expect such…bad results." He added, raising an eyebrow.

His words hurt, but you didn't say anything, you just stood there, looking down.

"I just don't understand," he continued, "I made sure to explain the concepts thoroughly. Why did you fail so badly?"

His tone was serious, he really wanted an answer from you.

"I really don't know," you mumble. Ratio let out a small huff, clearly not satisfied with your answer.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes studying you.

"You know, I've been teaching for years. I've seen many students who struggle, but not to this extent. You weren't able to answer any question correctly."

"I wanted help, Ratio," you said, again, muttering.

And yes, you tried to raise your hand so that he could also approach you that time, but he just looked at you and didn't come close.

You looked up weakly toward his eyes, holding his gaze a few seconds.

"I tried to ask for help from you, I raised my hand, but you ignored me," you confessed, your voice almost breaking.

He was silent for a moment, his expression slightly changing.

He seemed a little surprised that you had mentioned that.

He was about to open his mouth to speak, but then your voice spoke up again.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" You said, with a hurt voice, and your eyes started to feel moist.

His expression softened slightly. He wasn't expecting that question.

He saw the tears forming in your eyes, and his stern expression wavered for a second.

"No, I don't think you're stupid." He finally said, his voice slightly lower.

He paused for a moment before speaking again.

"But I can't deny that I'm...disappointed. I had hoped for more progress."

Your lower lip trembled slightly as you heard his words.

Disappointed. Of course, he was. Because you were the worst in the class, the one who couldn't understand anything no matter how hard you tried.

The one who would never be able to answer a question correctly.

"…I know…" you whispered.

You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they started rolling down your cheeks.

"But i'm trying my best. I swear I am," you said, your voice shaking.

Ratio didn't say anything for a moment. He just looked at you, almost as if he was contemplating your words, your expression and your tears.

He watched as you cried softly, the tears running silently down your face.

He seemed to think for a moment, before he spoke again, his voice softer than before.

"I know you're trying," he admitted, and his tone wasn't as harsh as usual.

He let out a small sigh.

"But 'trying' isn't enough. You're always lagging behind. You never catch up. You need to do something different."

Your heart felt heavy, and your shoulders slumped slightly.

He was right, your 'trying' wasn't enough. It never was.

You heard him sigh, before you didn't realize it, his hands were on your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs on these to clean the tears.

"I want you to succeed,"

His touch was gentle, his thumb wiping away your tears softly.

You looked up at him, his expression was serious but not cold as usual.

"But you have to work harder for that." He spoke, his hands still on your wet cheeks. "You're smart, but clearly something is missing."

As his hands continued on your cheeks, you froze, feeling the unexpected touch.

He was wiping your tears, a gesture of… comfort?

At this point, you already believed his words.

'You're not giving everything about yourself'

'Study more'

'Try harder'

Everything that came out of your mind and mouth was wrong for him.

You sat on the small bench on the rooftop of medical school. That place had been your peacetime.

You found yourself again, frustrated, as you had the book open on your lap, with tears about to escape your eyelids.

That until someone else's footsteps resounded on the ground.

Which made you immediately turn your head.

"I knew I'd find you here," the familiar voice said. You turned to see Ratio, walking over to the bench and sitting next to you.

"The same place, for the third time this week," he added, his expression a mixture of concern and something else.

You wiped the tears from your eyes quickly, not wanting him to see you like this. But it was too late, he had already noticed.

He glanced at the open book on your lap, a small frown on his face.

"Still struggling?" He asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You just nodded.

You saw him sigh, before he took out a kind of sweet bread packaged.

"Here, eat this," he said, as he gave you what he had in his hand.

He knew you liked those sweet breads.

With resignation, you took the bread, and you took off the wrapper, starting to eat it, while you felt like you were going to cry again.

Ratio watched you eat silently, his eyes fixed on you.

He saw the tears still gleaming in your eyes, but you were trying to hold them back.

He let out a sigh, his expression seemed to be contemplating something.

Without saying anything, he moved closer to you, getting nearer.

He was so close, you could count the number of eyelashes he had.

He leaned towards you, and his hand raised to touch your cheek and so he did, stroking your face for a moment, before he laid a kiss on your temple.

The unexpected kiss on your forehead made your body tense up for a moment, surprise filling you.

The action was uncharacteristic as he was acting in a way he never did in the past.

You slowly turn your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression held a hint of affection.

He was still so close to you. So close that he could easily touch you again.

The simple contact of his, made the accumulated tears of before, fall down your cheeks.

You stuck your body to him, even chewing sweet bread. You had a frown, like you used to have now.

As you put your phone next to you, after dialing your boyfriend's number.

You keep looking at the practice sheet, gently banging the pen against the table.

It took him a few seconds for him to answer your call.

"What's wrong?" Ratio asked once he answered the phone.

You took a deep breath before speaking, trying to sound a little calm, but failing miserably.

"I'm stuck again," you confessed, frustration evident in your voice.

"You'll need to do this by yourself, this time." He said, and his voice was firm.

You felt another stab in the chest.

"But I-"

"No buts. You need to learn how to figure things out on your own. You can't always depend on me."

Another stab. Like a dagger.

Yes, the same thing happened again.

You were somewhat desperate, as your last exams went wrong and you only approved a few with the minimum note. And basically you needed 140 percent of 100 percent to pass.

The only thing that could save you would be the practical part, but you didn't even manage to master that.

You knew he was right, but that didn't make you feel any better.

You looked up at him with a sad expression, but all he did was look at you with his usual frown.

"You're not a kid anymore. You need to start taking responsibility for your own learning," he said.

You knew he was right, you knew you couldn't always rely on him. But it was hard to accept.

Especially when he was always so dedicated and patient with others.

"Being your boyfriend doesn't mean you have more priority or advantages,"

You felt your throat tighten, you had a lump in your throat.

But he continued speaking.

"I'm your teacher, first of all. And I should be as impartial as possible."

You knew that, you truly knew that.

How you wished that he would treat you differently from others just because, you didn't want any privileges, or anything like that.

You just wanted his attention, his help, his care. But all you got were cold remarks, like a teacher talking to a stupid student.

Oh, but you would remember her words whenever you were tempted to ask her for help.

And again, you believed his words.

He was right, it wouldn't be fair for others to teach you the most.

So, you had to put everything in about yourself, no, more than you could give, so you could study for your exams.

Especially because they weren't just any exam, they were almost a preview of the endings, and if you didn't pass all of them, you wouldn't have any hope of being able to pass the courses.

Because you need more note than you can normally get, that is, something impossible.

In total there were 6 courses, that of Ratio and that of other teachers. That in their classes you didn't do so badly, but you weren't the best either. you approved with scores between minimums to media.

You looked down, your fingers tightening on the edge of the desk.

"I know," you mumbled, feeling a lump in your throat.

He was silent for a moment, before he spoke again, his voice a little softer this time.

"I'm tough on you because I know you can do it," he said.

Your eyesight focused on the chemistry test, it was the first exam of the week, so you were, or at least you felt, that you were ready.

When you left the exam, begging you to do well, you had to eat a granola bar, while you were walking down the hallways, looking for your other classroom.

You couldn't see Ratio before you took the first exam, because you were going to be a little late.

Once you sat at the desk, with the pharmacology test in your hands, you started putting on paper the things you remembered, so you didn't forget.

It was two long hours, which you managed to finish and leave the classroom, completely tired.

But when you get home, you couldn't sleep, because you had to prepare for your other exams.

As you sat in front of your desk, it was already almost 10 pm.

And you were still studying.

Your eyes tired because of the many books you had looked through, and your arms aching slightly because of writing so much.

You were tired, but you couldn't afford to take a rest. You had to study for the other exams. You let out a sigh, rubbing your eyes.

How long had you been studying now? An hour or two? You weren't even sure.

In the last few hours, you were studying for your other exams, including Public Health, Medicine 3, Clinical psychiatry, Laboratory diagnosis and the course in which Ratio will be present, Surgery 1.

Of some of those exams, most of them were written, the two of practice would be the same day.

You didn't dare send a single message to Ratio.

Or well, it's not that you didn't want to, you were too tired at this point.

You barely got out of the exam where you had to be in the lab, your eyelids every time threatened to close.

Now you had the exam.

You were scared, you even sweated from your nerves.

When you arrived at the respective practice chirophan, where all your colleagues would be taking the exam, your eyesight discouraged you.

They all looked somewhat tense, as they walked back and forth, muttering to themselves, what you assumed was what they learned in class.

You waited outside, along with them, before Ratio made them pass them all, to start the exam.

This consisted even the right only disinfected was also qualified, which made you tense. Although the cold water when washing your hands and arms helped you wake up a little.

Your breathing intensified.

Ratio stood in the middle of the room, and you tried to focus your vision properly.

He looked in your direction, for a second, his eyes on you.

Maybe he'd noticed how tired you were, but he remained silent. He just looked at you for a second, before looking back at everyone else.

And he began to speak.

"You all know how this works," he began, his voice firm and authoritative. "Each of you will take turns performing on a dummy patient."

You let out a shuddering sigh, trying to calm your nerves.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, as you watched your classmates take turns performing the practical exams.

Every time someone finished, Ratio inspected their work and gave them feedback.

You could see the serious expression on his face, his eyes never leaving the students as they performed.

Finally, it was your turn. You approached the dummy patient, your hands slightly trembling.

Ratio stood a few feet away, watching you.

When you started the exam, you tried to be as perfect as possible.

You tried to calm down, which was a bit difficult. Your hands was shaking.

'Try to breathe slowly, it will help you.'

That was what Ratio told you, and he was always right.

You tried to repeat in your head the steps you had to take to complete the exam.

You took a few deep breaths, in and out.

And finally, you began.

You feel much more pressure when you felt your classmates behind, that you were taking turns with when you performed a simple little surgery.

You started with shaky hands, to make cuts in the internal tissues of the skin, little by little. Being totally attentive to the sound of the cardiac monitor, listening to the pulsations and occasionally seeing the pressure level in the 'patient'.

You could even feel the sweat on the palms of your hands inside the latex gloves. It's good that you always had to put on 2 or 3 for these practices, because otherwise, you would have contaminated everything with your sweat.

You continued the process, trying to block out the thoughts that were flying through your mind.

'You need a good score.'

'You can't fail.'

'This is your last exam.'

'If you do this well, you can finally talk to him without worrying.'

Trying to ignore the pressure, you continued to take each step carefully.

The instructions for your colleagues you should take turns with were clear, anyone who distracts or talks to the person who is performing the practice with the 'patient' will immediately cancel the exam.

And that's why, because of the more impotence or frustration of your peers when they see your patient's heart level when they enter a state of shock because they had touched a vital organ, it was something that went unnoticed by you. Because you had fallen asleep.

What suddenly woke you up was the same alert from the monitors, who let out a loud noise.

Shit.

By the time you saw the monitor, the pressure was in the skies, not to mention that now the pulsations were going down drastically.

Without realizing it, as you had been sleeping in your place, you pricked the 'patient' stomach with the scalpel.

Fuck.

Your eyes widened in shock.

You were still a bit dizzy from sleep, and your reflexes were very slow.

And from behind, you could hear more murmurs, some of your classmates, while others let out a hiss or a swear word. And you could feel the pressure in your chest at what had just happened.

You tried to make a suture, but by that time it was too late.

You had damaged a vital organ, which you shouldn't even do.

In fear, you turned to the monitor, that now the rhythm was a single beep, indicating that the 'patient' had died.

You stayed there, feeling pressured by the looks of your classmates behind you, now they had not been able to take their exam.

And the gaze of Ratio, who was standing in front of you, which only made things worse.

He stood in the same position, his eyes staring at you. And you could only think of what he must have been thinking at that moment.

You tried to remain calm, but you knew that was impossible, your breathing was shaky, and you even felt your legs trembling.

You couldn't stand the stares, you could feel the gazes of your colleagues on your back. Judging and analyzing everything you had done.

"You failed this exam roundly." was the only thing he said, before guiding your peers to another side in the chirophan so they can take their exam, with a heart rate 'patient'.

You felt a pang of panic, your hands still trembling from the previous episode.

'You failed this exam roundly.' those words still echoed in your mind.

You knew it was the truth, there was no way you could deny it. You messed up big time.

'Everyone is going to hate me now. They're all going to think I'm stupid. I'm not fit to be a doctor. I'm not fit to be anything.'

These were the thoughts that raced through your mind.

You had been unveiling yourself so that you could study well for your other exams, that this was the only thing you didn't have in mind that could happen.

Your eyes looked to the floor, you were ashamed, you were embarrassed by your own performance. You had failed at something so simple.

Something you'd studied for hours. You even feel somewhat prepared to be able to do it.

Ratio stayed where he was, watching as your classmates took their turn with 'the patient'.

But he couldn't quite take his eyes off you, he could see you were shaking, and he was sure you would start crying at any moment. But you wouldn't do that in this place, not with the presence of everyone else.

He was heading for a moment where you were.

Without paying much attention to the others, he approached you, his footsteps almost silent, and stopped right in front of you.

He looked down at you, his gaze serious.

He knew exactly what your thoughts were at the moment, he knew that all the blame you would assume would be on yourself.

After all, it was all due to your negligence, you had fallen asleep, and that had been the reason why your practice turned out to be, to say the least, a disaster.

'You tried'

'You can do better another time'

'Don't worry'

You expected that, you really expected it.

"You need to retire from the chirophan, you've finished your exam." That's what you heard from him.

Your heart squeezed.

You really thought he was going to at least say a few words of encouragement, not just that.

And the tone in which he said it just made it worse. It was clear that he was disappointed.

You could feel the lump in your throat growing, you felt that you were going to burst into tears at any moment.

Ratio was about to speak, but instead, he held his tongue.

He knew the effect his words had had on you. He knew you weren't well. But he didn't say anything, he just stood there, seeing you.

His gaze was on you, you could feel that he was analyzing you, from your eyes to your hands.

You looked like a kicked puppy.

Your shoulders were hunched, your head was down, and your hands were shaking at your sides.

With what little dignity you had left, you looked up at Ratio.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it would burst out of your chest.

Your eyes were glassy, your eyelashes wet with tears.

You moved from your place, going to the disinfection area, while you were removing your gloves, mask and other protection stuff.

Your hands never stopped shaking while you did that.

You came out of the chirophan of practices, with fear running through your body.

Your hands on your face as you tried to hide the fact that you were about to start crying.

You were walking so fast that you bumped into a few people, some who told you to slow down, but you ignored them.

Finally, you reached the bathroom, where you locked yourself in one of the cubicles, and let the tears fall down your face.

You felt pathetic. You felt like an idiot for thinking you could do it, and even more so, for falling asleep.

How could you possibly have screwed up so big? You had studied for hours, for days, for weeks.

You worked as hard as you could to try to get a passing grade.

You had given your all, only for it to end in a complete failure.

"You're not good for this." you told yourself, your voice choked with tears.

…

You waited for your boyfriend to leave his office, grabbing the strip of your bag with both your hands.

Your gaze was on the floor, seeing your shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Your red eyes, you didn't want people to see much.

The students walked around you, chatting and laughing, unaware of the turmoil you were going through. You just wanted to go back to your apartment and cry in peace.

But at least you wanted some comfort on Ratio's side, even though you knew you didn't deserve it.

You heard the sound of a door behind you opening, and you glanced up to see Ratio walking out of his office.

He didn't notice you at first, but then he turned and his gaze fell on you.

You heard him sigh heavily, before he spoke "Let's go." It wasn't a question, it was a direct order.

You didn't dare say anything, just nodded silently and walked with him.

The whole way to the exit was silent, you walked behind him, seeing his back.

The silence was heavy, you didn't dare to say anything, and he didn't say anything either.

When you arrived at his apartment he let you pass first.

As you saw him leave his things in place and turn on some lights, your mind was distracted.

Until as he started heating water in the boiler, he spoke.

"It was the worst exam I could see in my life," his voice was full of disappointment.

Your heart pounded in your chest, those words only made you feel worse.

You wanted to say something, some kind of excuse, some reason to justify what you had done.

But all that came out of your mouth was a half-broken murmur "I'm sorry"

Ratio stared at you for a moment, his gaze was cold, you felt like crying again.

"You're sorry?" He asked, almost bitterly.

"You'll tell that to your patients' relatives when you kill them by mistake?"

Your eyes widened, and you could feel your lip starting to tremble.

That was a low blow.

"I-" you tried to speak, but your voice was so shaky and broken that you could barely form words.

But he interrupted you.

"You weren't focused. You were not prepared. You were sloppy and careless" He said, without even looking at you.

His words were like a stab in the heart.

And he wasn't done yet.

"You didn't put any effort into it,"

"Yes I did," you muttered, grabbing your fingers, anxiously in your body.

Ratio turned to you, his gaze was stern and almost irritated. He had never looked at you like that before.

"You fell asleep in the middle of the practice," he said, and the disappointment in his voice was palpable.

"How the hell would you call that putting in effort?"

Your mind was racing, trying to find an answer, something to say. But the words didn't come out, the lump in your throat was too big.

"I did" you tried to say again, weakly.

"No, you didn't" he said bluntly.

"If you had, you wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake"

You couldn't help it again, the salty tears wet your cheeks.

"Yes I did, Veritas," you said, raising your voice a little while you were looking at him.

"You didn't make the slightest effort in that practice, otherwise, you wouldn't have failed so miserably"

Those words stung again, you felt that he was attacking you.

"Yes I did!" You shouted, tears streaming down your face.

"I worked my ass out for that exam. I didn't take anything for granted! I really wanted to pass!"

"I want your comfort," you sobbed.

You wanted him to tell you that you had tried, that you did put everything out of you, that it was just unfortunate situations, that you could try again later.

You wanted that, not this.

Ratio's expression softened a little at your words, and for a moment he almost looked guilty.

He was quiet a few seconds, looking at your tear-soaked face.

"Do you think hard work is enough?" He asked. "Do you think that by just studying you will pass everything?"

"That if you want something, you'll get it just by wanting it?"

You just looked at him.

"That's not how it works," he said firmly.

"You have to be more than that".

You wanted his comfort, you longed for it a lot at times like this, not to be ranted out at how bad you did it.

"You don't deserve to be consoled if you did something out of pure negligence,"

Your heart sank at his words, like he was speaking to a child.

You felt like a scolded dog.

More tears fell on your face.

"I didn't mean to make that mistake," you said, wiping your face with your sleeve. "I really tried"

Ratio approached you, his steps slow and deliberate.

"Trying is not enough" he said bluntly.

He was in front of you now, towering over you, you didn't dare to look at him in the eyes.

"In this profession, just trying is not enough"

"You're not made to be a doctor if you think that," Your breathing hitched.

Those words hurt, you wanted to shout at him, tell him he's not right, that he's wrong.

But you knew he wasn't.

Every word he was saying was true.

All this effort, all these hours you've worked, and all these sleepless nights, to fail like that, because of a stupid simple mistake.

You really were not fit to be a doctor.

Your head was lowered, and the tears still ran down.

You tried to hold them back, but failed.

"I'm tired, Veritas,"

You just wanted him to stop.

You were tired, tired of studying, tired of not getting it right.

Ratio seemed to not soften at your words, his face still showed disappointment.

"You have to try harder, you have to put aside your tiredness," he said firmly. "If you don't, you will fail again"

"If you really want this, you have to do better"

You just wanted it all to stop.

"It's not fair," you began, your voice choked by the crying that didn't stop.

"The only thing you know how to do is tell me bad things about what I do," you sobbed.

"You're supposed to be my boyfriend, not someone who criticizes me,"

You felt frustrated, the words escaping your mouth without a care.

You wanted him to comfort you, to tell you that everything was going to be okay and that you would be a perfect doctor.

But he didn't say anything. He just looked at you, his expression unchanged.

"My job isn't to soothe your ego," he said firmly.

"My job, as a boyfriend, is to help you see the faults in yourself and strive to improve"

"And it seems that you don't like that very much," he added. His voice was almost cold.

You raised your head, looking at him with wet eyes.

"You're supposed to support me" you said weakly, almost a plea.

Ratio's face didn't change, his eyes fixed on you.

"I do support you," he said.

"But I won't lie to you or sugarcoat things for you," he added.

"I don't even have ego or something that you have to soften."

Those words were like a stab to the heart.

"I'm sick of you telling me that everything I do is complete shit,"

You were shaking with frustration, tears and snot streamed down your face. You felt so angry and so desperate that you didn't know what to say.

"I'm just trying to be honest with you and make you face reality," Ratio said.

"You need to be able to handle criticism if you want to be a doctor"

You just wanted him to stop, to shut up and say something like 'you're good' or 'don't cry it's okay'.

But he didn't, he just stood there, telling you the things you didn't want to hear.

You felt like you couldn't hold back anymore, all these days, weeks, months of not saying anything was starting to weigh on you.

"You never say anything good about me," you said in a shaky voice.

"You never have a nice word for what I do"

Ratio raised an eyebrow at your words, unamused by your outburst.

"You don't deserve my compliments"

That stung.

"Especially when you fail so miserably," he added.

Your body shuddered, those words made you feel so bad.

"All other boyfriends say nice things to their partners" you murmured.

"They give their support, even when they make a mistake"

Ratio almost laughed at your words.

"Oh, so you want me to be one of those 'other boyfriends' now?" he said with a hint of irony.

"You want me to pat you on the back and say you did a good job, even when you did a bad one?"

"Do you really think that's going to help?"

His tone was almost mocking, and it made you even more upset.

You wanted to shout at him, tell him that you just wanted him to say something nice and comfort you. But the words wouldn't come out.

"I…"

You tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was a choked noise.

Ratio sighed heavily, the annoyance clear in his expression.

"I can't believe you're acting like a child because you can't handle a bit of criticism"

"Do you really think that's how a doctor should behave?"

"The answers I say are the same as those of my classmates and you still tell me they're wrong," you said.

"It's not fair. I'm fed up,"

Ratio crossed his arms, looking down at you.

"Life isn't fair," he said, as if explaining something obvious to a child.

"And a doctor's job is not to care about being fair"

He looked you up and down, almost with contempt in his eyes.

"I had expected more from you," he said.

"But I suppose I expected too much"

Those words hit you like a blow to the stomach.

You knew he was right, but it didn't make the situation any less painful.

Your hands were clenched into tight fists, your fingers digging into your palms.

"I hate you," you spat out between sobs, your voice full of anger and hurt.

Ratio seemed unperturbed by your words to begin with.

He looked at you with an expressionless face for a moment, before speaking.

"You don't mean that"

You were angry, hurt, and sad, all at the same time.

"I do," you said, your eyes wet with tears.

"I hate you, and I wish you didn't exist"

The words came out of your mouth, more like a desperate plea.

Ratio didn't react at first, he just stood there, looking at you as you sobbed.

"You don't mean it," he repeated, his voice low and firm.

"And you know it"

"Yes I do," you insisted, your voice almost a hiss.

"I hate that you always criticize me," you said, letting out a sob. "I hate that you never say anything nice,"

You saw a slight change in his face through your tearful sight.

Before it becomes the same again.

"If you hate me and you can't stand the criticism I give you," his voice sounded annoying, almost words spit on his face.

"Why don't you retire from medical school?"

"You don't even have the talent to be a doctor anyway,"

You felt your heart drop at those words.

Talent… That was the thing that you always lacked.

Ratio was always the perfect doctor, from the beginning of his studies, he was the top of the top.

You, on the other hand, struggled.

You weren't naturally smart like your classmates or he was. You needed to study more, work harder, make more effort.

And even with all that, you didn't come close to being like he wanted.

You had sacrificed so many things just to get here, your dreams, your hobbies, and even your old friends.

What nice words from your boyfriend.

Both you and he remained silent, with only the sound of the boiling woman whistling.

Your tears fell like waterfalls, but this time you weren't sobbing, you just stared at him.

There was a tense silence between the two of you.

You didn't know what I was thinking, you didn't want to know either.

But you might notice that his facial expression was no longer the firm one before.

He seemed even surprised by his words.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to speak.

But the words not came out.

Ratio was looking at your devastated face, the trail of tears already staining your clothes and cheeks.

Your red eyes stared at him, without blinking. Your expression seemed so different from a few seconds ago.

He had probably crossed the line.

Ratio stood there, looking at your tear-soaked face. He had never seen you so upset, so… desperate.

'Why don't you retire from medical school?'

His words will be repeated as a disc striped on your head.

The seconds passed slowly, the silence was only broken by the sound of boiling water.

Ratio moved slightly, taking a step forward, but stopped when his eyes met your gaze.

That look was almost one of… betrayal.

Something inside him stirred with frustration but guilt at the same time.

You forced yourself to take a breath, because you felt like you were going to drown.

You grabbed your bag with your trembling hands.

As you moved to grab your stuff, your eyesight never focused even on his shoes.

"Y/N…" Ratio tried to speak, his voice was hesitant.

He watched as you packed your things, your movements were jerky and with haste, with the only goal of leaving quickly.

You didn't look at him, avoiding his eyes completely.

"Where are you going?" His voice sounded more pleading, and with a hint of concern.

You felt your body tense, the sound of his voice made you shiver. You had forgotten how long it had been since you heard your boyfriend speak to you without being sharp or harsh.

"I'm leaving," you replied, your voice flat and emotionless.

"Do you care?"

"Of course I care" his voice was firmer than before, and maybe a little annoyed?

Ratio walked closer to you, his steps slow.

"I-, we need to talk"

That phrase came out of his mouth, almost in a pleading tone.

You continued to pack your things, not daring to look at him.

"We can talk tomorrow," you said. "I remembered I have something to do at home,"

Ratio's lips formed a straight line.

He just kept quiet.

You too, until you approached the door.

You felt the weight of his eyes on your back, almost burning.

You had your hand on the doorknob.

It was hard. More than you should.

"Tomorrow, then," he said, quietly.

The way Ratio spoke sounded almost vulnerable.

Your hand trembled on the doorknob.

You wanted to look back, to say something, to see his face.

But you didn't, because you know that seeing him would be even more painful.

"Sure," you managed to say, your voice hoarse.

The day after your… discussion with Ratio.

You were walking through the corridors of the medical school.

You felt a slight anxiety, but also a sense of resignation for what was going to happen.

You hadn't heard from Ratio since yesterday, and you weren't sure if it was on purpose or not.

As you turned a corner, you saw a familiar figure standing in your path.

You froze for a moment when you saw him.

He was dressed as usual and that perfect hairstyle.

But at least he didn't look so perfect, like he hadn't slept the night before.

His eyes were fixed on you, almost as if he were inspecting you.

Ratio his face neutral as always, but with a hint of… remorse?

"We need to talk," he repeated the phrase from yesterday, his voice low and firm.

Right.

"Oh, right," you let go, feeling your body tighten.

But before he could add anything else, you talked.

"Maybe later?, right now I have a class,"

Ratio had expected you to have a defiant or annoyed air about you.

But your voice, and expression, were calm, almost soft.

"Fine," he said after a few seconds. "Then after class,"

"After class," you confirmed.

Ratio continued to watch you.

The sound of the bell ringing through the hall interrupted the brief moment between the two of you.

not looking directly into his eyes. Then, before he could say anything again, you continued on your way to your classroom.

Ratio watched your figure walk away, his brows slightly furrowed.

Every ticking sound seemed almost as if it was mocking you.

The anticipation making your stomach spin.

In fact, you hadn't gone to a 'class'.

You went to talk to the rector of the medical school.

You felt a lump in your throat, and your hands were slightly sweaty.

You had an idea of what you wanted to talk about.

But you weren't so sure.

Your footsteps echoed through the hallway, your heart beating fast in your chest.

Until you arrived at the office door. You knocked gently and the voice of the rector called you in.

The moment of the meeting was brief, you explained the situation and what you decided. The man listened intently to your words, a slight sense of sympathy in his eyes.

When you finished, he nodded slowly, his fingers tapping on his desk. "Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Yes," you responded, your voice firm but inside you were the nerves.

You didn't know if you had taken the right decision, but it was done.

"I don't want to question your decision, but-"

"I'm sure" you interrupted him abruptly.

It sounded a little… harsh, but you didn't want to hear any more arguments.

The rector gave a small resigned nod.

"Okay," he said slowly.

"I will start the procedures,"

You walked to where you knew Ratio would be teaching.

You didn't know why you approached, if you were supposed to leave without telling him anything.

Ratio was in the middle of his class when you appeared at the door.

He didn't see you at first, since his back was facing the door.

But when class ended a few minutes later, and everyone left, he turned his face towards the door after leaving his notes on his desk.

And there you were.

Your figure standing in the doorway.

Ratio's facial expression didn't change.

"Is your class over?," his voice was low, the room was empty, the last students had already left.

Which made the only sound a low ticking of the clock hanging on the wall.

Your feet didn't move toward him.

You were still standing by the door, your gaze fixed on the ground.

"Yes," your voice came out somewhat strangled.

For a few seconds Ratio was silent, as if contemplating you.

He started to walk towards you, his footsteps echoing in the room.

The air between the two of you felt almost… thick.

Ratio eventually stood in front of you, his height forcing you to lift your head to look at him.

"Can we talk outside of here?" You asked, something undesirable about your actions.

Ratio was quiet for a moment, staring down at you.

He looked almost… unreadable.

Finally he agreed with a low "sure".

You left the room and both you started walking together.

Neither of you spoke.

Silence.

Just the sound of the two of you walking through the corridors of the school.

Ratio continued to keep pace with you, but he was looking straight ahead, not looking directly at you.

The sound of your footsteps echoed in the empty halls.

As the two of you walked, you felt a feeling of nervousness rise in your stomach.

You inhaled before you asked again. "Can I take your hand?"

As you broke the silence, Ratio slightly turned his head towards you.

He gave a light nod of affirmation.

You reached for his hand, and he allowed you to hold it.

His palm was warm, and the touch of his fingers was gentle, almost firm.

You felt less nervous, just for a while.

You walked with him until you got to a quiet cafeteria, where you saw people studying at tables.

You sat in front of him, making your hand release his.

As you sat down in the cafeteria, Ratio took a seat in front of you.

Both of you stayed silent for a few more seconds.

Neither of you had said anything since you came to this place.

You could feel a tension in the air, the silence slowly becoming unbearable.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

"I assume you didn't go to class," his statement sounded like a mere fact.

"Uhm, we can talk about that at another time," you said, playing with your hands a little bit.

You missed the touch of his hand against yours, and you were going to miss that, that's for sure.

"I don't hate you, Veritas," you said, remembering your words yesterday, that you ranted when he was being unpleasant and rude on you.

Ratio's brow furrowed slightly.

He didn't say anything for a moment, he seemed to be thinking about something.

His gaze was focused on you, his eyes studying your expression almost intently, as if he was examining you.

"I know," he said eventually, his voice low and quiet.

Then he spoke again.

"I have to apologize," his words sounded almost reluctant, as if he didn't like saying them.

You could see the muscles of his jaw clenched, he seemed to be struggling with his thoughts and words.

It was clear that he wasn't used to apologizing.

He continued, the words coming out a little hesitant.

"I shouldn't have said those things,"

He paused again, his gaze averting yours for a moment.

Then he spoke again, and his eyes fixed on yours again.

"I was too harsh,"

Ratio's voice was quiet, almost like a whisper.

He was still struggling with those words, you were so used to him insulting you so easily but apparently it was different when he apologized.

Significantly that produced peace of mind in you.

You couldn't help but smile a little, feeling the knot in your throat.

"That's okay," you said.

Ratio's eyebrow shot up, clearly not expecting such a response.

You knew him enough that he probably would have been prepared to receive a scolding or an argument in response.

He was still looking at you, you could see the slight surprise in his eyes.

"That's… it?"

Ratio seemed almost dumbfounded.

"Yes, that's what I needed to hear," you said.

Anyway, you had already started with the procedures with the rector.

Maybe you just wanted to hear his words of apology, but as a good memory.

Ratio's expression changed, it was almost a mixture of relief and confusion. It was almost as if he had expected more resistance from you.

He remained quiet for a few more seconds, continuing to watch you intently.

That you were so forgiving after how he had acted made him feel… strange.

But maybe he shouldn't think too much.

Ratio exhaled slowly, his facial expression returning to its usual stoic and composed state.

"You're too soft, dear," he murmured, his voice low and quiet.

The next day it was the same.

He felt calm, because at least you weren't upset and at least you clarified that you didn't hate him.

It had spent almost 40 minutes of class and you were not there yet, it was strange to him.

Until when you looked for you on campus, where you were supposed to have other classes, you hadn't attended them. Rather, you weren't even on campus.

And, no matter how much he send you a message, it came out that he couldn't contact your number.

Almost recently, he had to come and talk to the rector, about you not coming and you could fail all your other courses. Until he took it upon himself to tell him that you had withdrew from campus three months ago.

Ratio's eyes widened, his facial expression transforming into a look of disbelief. "What?," his voice was low, but with a hint of alarm.

His mind was processing this new information, and it was hard for him to believe.

"They… withdrew three months ago?" His words came out slowly, his heart was starting to race.

Yes, you had taken the decision to withdraw from the medical school.

As much as it looked like a tantrum, you didn't care, maybe he was right.

So you followed his advice.

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