#many students passed out on the field

[tittyinfinity]

Wow I'm really fucking upset to see that my marching band teacher still works at my old high school after nearly killing several of us in 2010

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Unlucky Overtime

SUMMARY: The Spelldrive game against Royal Sword Academy was very close. But it was in overtime that the teams broke the tie and Night Raven College... lost. They were very upset by this loss and need your comfort even if they deny it.

CHARACTERS: Spelldrive Club 🧹 (Leona Kingscholar; Ruggie Bucchi; Epel Felmier)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Comfort; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 780 words per character.

COMMENTS: Following the same premise as what I wrote for Basketball Club and Track and Field Club of "What if they lost?"

When I started writing about comforting them when they lose, I ended up finding it more interesting and cute than celebrating when they win. I think it's in the bad times that feelings are most intimate and honest.

When I wrote Epel's part, I was upset about something IRL and it ended up helping me writing him. 😂

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy 😉

OTHER CLUBS:

But… We Lost… - Basketball Club (Ace / Floyd / Jamil)

Romantic Experiment - Science Club (Trey / Rook)

For a Quarter of a Second - Track and Field Club (Deuce / Jack)

A Rainy Walk - Mountain Lover Club (Jade) / Gargoyle Studies Club (Malleus)

CONTEXT: If there are competitive players who love to win, they are the members of the NRC Spelldrive Club. Leona, Ruggie and Epel especially. They were playing with everything, especially because of the school they were playing against. The game against Royal Sword Academy was very close, as expected.

When the game ended they needed to break the tie and so the game went into overtime. But unfortunately, this did not give your school the victory.

Leona seemed upset about losing, as did the other players on his team. But even so, he was the calmest in comparison.

They congratulated the RSA students on their victory (or as close to it as possible, if we ignore the slight growls and murderous looks). They avoided unnecessary interactions until they could leave the field.

You know very well how Leona hates to lose, especially when he tries so hard. And so you knew you had to check on him and try to comfort him, even if he says he doesn't want you to.

You go to the locker rooms exit, but you don't see Leona coming out. Many of the players looked at you angrily when they passed by, but knowing how close you were to Leona, they didn't have the courage to even be rude to you directly.

When you see Ruggie, you ask him about Leona. He tells you that Leona left right after he came in, that he went in, grabbed his things and left. He didn't even change his clothes. This worries you and Ruggie.

“You should go check on him.” Ruggie tells you. “And even if he says he wants to be alone, don't listen, okay? He likes your company even if he doesn't like to admit it. I would also warn you not to pressure him, but you already know that.”

“And where do you think he went?” You ask.

“Where do you think he went? Come on, it's not like we don't know his favorite spots.”

You decided to try your luck at the Botanical Garden, and it looks like you were right, but you didn't realize it right away. You go to one of his favorite spots under a certain tree. You look around, but you don't see anyone, until you suddenly see a tail appearing hanging down beside you. You look up and see Leona lying on a thick branch above you.

“I don't need your comfort.” Leona says, without moving and without looking at you. “Go to your dorm. It's late.”

“You wanted me to see you.” You say. “Otherwise you wouldn't let your tail fall beside me.”

“Believe what you want, herbivore.”

His tail was still there by your side and you don't resist to touch it to mess with him. You reach your hand towards his tail, but at the last second it swings, lightly hits you in the face and returns to Leona's lap, away from you. He finally looks at you, but with an annoyed face and growls.

“I'm not in the mood to play. Go away before I bite you... Don't look at me like that.” He adjusts his head again and stops looking at you.

You sit down against the tree trunk. He growls again, but doesn't move. Just like with cats, you'll just stay there waiting for him to come to you. You use your phone or read a book while you wait.

A few minutes later it starts to get colder, you start to notice it and curl up a little. Suddenly something falls on top of your head, you uncover yourself and see that it is a long coat. Leona's captain's coat. You look up and see him in the same lazy position but without the coat and just with the black clothes and belts. You put it on and you start to warm up right away because it was still warm from him having been wearing it.

A few more minutes later and you are startled again by something that falls right in front of you. Or rather, that lands right in front of you.

“Don't you get tired?” Leona asks you, crouching down and looking you in the eyes. “Of being so stubborn?” He has that unbothered, but still slightly annoyed face.

You put down what you had in your hands and stretch your legs on the floor. He gives you a little throat growl. You smile, but he growls at you more, and suddenly he throws himself at you as if he's going to attack you. But he didn't. He stopped very close to your face.

“Yes. I'm angry that I lost.” He says in a low voice. “And that's why you shouldn't have come to me. I don't need pity or words of comfort.”

“Do you really think I pity you?” You ask. “I wasn't worried about you being angry. I was worried that you would fall back into that depressive state of feeling like life is unfair and it's not worth trying anymore.”

His green eyes remain fixed on yours and suddenly he kisses you eagerly. You already know him well enough to know what truly hides behind those roars and tough guy mask. His instinct was to reward you for it.

After he breaks the kiss he lays his head either on your chest or in your lap and hugs you. You are trapped now until he is willing to let you go.

Ruggie was so angry that Leona had to calm him down. All the NRC players congratulated the RSA players, but clearly only because it was what they had to do. The tension and animosity could be cut with a knife. After that, the NRC players go straight to the locker rooms. You feel like you should check on Ruggie.

You go to the exit of the locker rooms to wait for him. Some of the players who passed you on their way out gave you bad looks, but knowing how close you were to Ruggie, they did nothing more than just grumble into the air.

When Ruggie finally left he was still angry. When he saw you, his expression didn't change much other than being a little embarrassed.

“Hi, sorry, I don't have time.” He apologizes, clearly trying to avoid you, but smiling. “I want to put these clothes in the wash ASAP.” He walks around you and starts going away.

You follow him.

“I was thinking about trying those new donuts from Sam's shop with you.” You say.

You see his ears twitch with interest.

“Yeah... but you know, I'm not really hungry. And since they're new, those donuts are still expensive. I'm waiting for him to lower the price a little.”

“Don't worry, I already bought them for you.”

Ruggie stops! And looks at you in surprise.

“You did?! Why?”

“I wanted to give them to you after the game anyway. You know, for the good game.” You see him pouting. “I didn't buy them as a consolation gift. I did it before the game started. I was going to give them to you even if you had won.”

He seemed more satisfied with that explanation and you took out the box you had in your backpack.

“How come I don't smell it?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise, so I asked Sam if there was a way to hide the scent from you. He used a spell on the box.”

Ruggie asks you if he charged extra for the spell. You said he didn't. Before you open the box, Ruggie suggests that you go to a more chill place. After all, you were still near the locker rooms surrounded by players and spectators.

The Windmill is right behind the coliseum and not many people usually go there. In fact, there was no one else there. The two of you sat on the edge of the stream that surrounded the Windmill. The sound of running water could calm both of you.

You open the box, take out one of the donuts and hold it up to his mouth. He blushes a little, but accepts your offer and takes a bite. You loosen your grip and he takes the donut out of your hand with his mouth.

While he was eating he looked at the water and despite the calming sound his anger returned because of the thoughts that also returned to that game. You could hear him mumbling softly, and see his ears back and his teeth showing.

He finishes eating the donut and stands up abruptly, starting to release his frustration with swearing and cursing to the air, kicking the ground and even pulling up grass. You remain sitting on the floor eating your donut.

As soon as he finishes his emotional outburst, which he always did with his back to you, he finally turns around, dropping his arms and sighing. He kneels down next to you, looks at you with a pout, picks up the box of donuts and takes it from your lap. For a second you think he's going to steal all the donuts for himself, but he sets the box aside and lays his head in your lap as if he's laying it on the pillow after a tantrum. You even hear a dog-like whining. If you pet his head, you might see his tail wagging a little.

The two of you continued eating the donuts as you pet his head and ears to comfort him. When the donuts are gone and the box is empty, he gets up, sitting on the grass next to you. Ruggie looks at you, still a little sad, but calmer and with an affectionate sparkle in his eyes.

He doesn't say anything, he just throws himself into a kiss as a thank you.

EPEL WAS PISSED!!! Leona and Ruggie had to calm him down. Even RSA players were scared to see someone like Epel like that. Like other NRC players he avoided unnecessary interactions with players from the opposing and winning team.

As soon as they were able to retreat to the locker rooms Epel was one of the quickest to leave the field. You knew you should check on him.

You go to the exit of the locker rooms to wait for him. You see the other NRC players walk past you, angry about losing and when you finally see Epel coming out of the locker room, the expression on his face is the same if not worse than that of his other teammates, even the vein in his forehead was bulging.

But that changes completely the moment he sees you. His shoulders, and consequently his posture, relaxed and he smiled slightly at you, knowing he couldn't fool you with a big smile. He had a bandage on his nose because of the injury he suffered when he blocked a shot with his face during the game.

You walk over to him and carefully place your hands on his face, showing your concern for his injury. He blushes!

“D-Don't worry. I'm fine, I promise... Gah, wait! Vil’s gonna kill me when he sees me like this!” He suddenly worries.

You say that Vil doesn't need to see him so soon and suggest that the two of you go for a walk so he can clear his head a bit. He sighs and accepts your offer, you are usually right at these times.

“I really need to go for a walk. Or a run. Dagnabbit, I don't even know if walking around the entire campus is enough. If we could leave the camps whenever we wanted and I had a Blastcycle, or... OH! What if you come with me for a broom ride?”

“But you just finished a game of Spelldrive.” You say “Are you sure getting back on a broomstick will be good for you?”

“Don't worry, I can separate a game from a ride. Trust me, it will be good to feel the fresh wind on my face.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

He goes to get his broom and you climb on it behind him, holding on to his torso. The beginning of the ride is pleasant, but eventually he starts to speed up until he reaches a point where you squeeze him and ask him to slow down.

“AH! Sorry, sorry, sorry! My mind went back to that game and I got angry again. I must have started speeding up by accident because of that. Sorry... I think we should stop somewhere for a break.”

He lands on the roof of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Sorry again if I worried you.” He tells you after you both get off the broom. But the ride actually helped me a bit.” Suddenly he grimaces in pain and puts his fingers to the bandage on his nose, it seems his bad mood was returning.

You cup his face and kiss his nose lightly. He blushes a lot again and look away from you.

“I wanted you to see us win.” He admits. “I was so excited to know you were watching. I really wanted to make you proud.”

You tell him that you're proud of him, just as Ruggie and Leona probably are too. Who wouldn't be? He always works so hard to improve. And he's still just a freshman, there will be more opportunities to win, he's just starting out. And for a start, you're sure he played better than a lot of freshmen. You finish by saying that he should rest, especially with an injury like that, and you even offer to take care of it for him if he needs.

“Thank you so much, (Y/N).” He smiles sweetly at you. “I promise I'll give you a win next time.”

If you say that you would prefer him to be more careful, his smile and gaze will become even more affectionate.

“I'll try. Although... hum, nothing.”

You say that now you want to know and he blushes slightly.

“I... I was just thinking that... it must be nice to be taken care of by you. I wouldn't mind getting a shot in the face again for that. Ha ha ha.”

If you hug him, he will freeze for a second, but then he will hug you back and you will feel a loving squeeze, as he whispers a thank you. If you let him, he will kiss your cheek after the hug. And if you want, he will continue with another type of kiss.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwhose (not) random kid

premise. crash landing from the future is apparently your kid, not that you know that anyway... in the form of a mixture between you, and your... supposed counterpart, clues are bound to pile up as to whose child this is.

parts. rosehearts, kingscholar, ashengrotto, al asim, schoenheit, shroud, draconia

cont. gender neutral reader, use of 'mada' which is just 'mama' and 'dada' cut in half for our resident shrimp (aka yuu) staggering 6.1k words woah

note. hello, hello! for a while I don't think I can work on azul's part </3 it's gonna be a very busy week for me for the following two weeks (i can say i am already in hell week) for finals so it might be a while before I can pick his part up hehe. in the meanwhile... here's leona ;) if I can commit to a date for azul, you can check out the posting schedule at my pinned since I will be updated it once i do!

as usual, just comment if you also want to be added in the taglist ^^ if those already on want to be removed you can also drop a comment to inform me!

leona

i should take a bite–was a brief thought that swam through your mind just as you turned a corner to another seemingly endless hallway. the floating lanterns, and candles alike light up in a short flash of dim green when you passed, extinguishing completely when you found another hallway.

in your hands was none other than a doom sandwich from the cafeteria, plucked then fought after its other nineteen siblings in the tray. if you had a word it would probably be chaos, you’d think there was a pyramid of golden bars in the cafeteria from the crowd of students outside before the bell.

there was indeed not.

“shehehe! take this, our protege!” were the humble words of a ghost occupant of the main campus, who had apparently come to view you as an underling of theirs. so if slipping the wrapped delicacy into your hands discreetly with a wink was their idea of a ‘good job’ then who were you, honestly to decline?

out of courtesy you wondered whether or not to inform your friends alongside the large crowd in the front of the room but decided against it because you were in the right mind to not dive first into that… mob and lose your beloved gift immediately.

in short, the students of this unfortunate institution were not above using dirty tactics for a single, stupid sandwich that happens to induce a recollection of memories when eaten (alright, you do see the appeal).

you hid it within the inner pockets of your blazer, lacking the nausea you had through the first few times of travelling through the mirrors as you stepped through and found yourself in the warm, humid air of savanaclaw. thankfully, as with all condiments from the cafeteria, the food would always remain warm.

alright. you did feel a bit dizzy but as were such with certain out of the world aliens like yourself. 

“we’re missing a disk, yuu-yuu!” 

you turned your head at the mention of your name, spotting a few savanaclaw students either lying still with varying pants or grabbing a drink at their own magishift field. a few disks were strewn around the dusty ground but you steeled your gaze at the source of your called name.

politely, you waved. this time, you’re not sure why cater’s nickname for you had extended from the upperclassmen of heartslabyul (well, the first years regard you normally anyway.) then to savanaclaw residents. for a dorm with such virile individuals, they’re still teenagers who like to pick on you, albeit less disdainful and more teasing after you’d helped the dorm out.

before, they were just demons to you!

you nudge your chin towards the many lying around. “there’s a lot of disks around, upperclassmen.” you pointed out, the cheetah eared second year doesn’t even spare them a glance like catching your attention were more of his concerns than a not-but lack of disks. “if you’re asking me to carry one to you, they’re really heavy. i’m sure your magic can carry it well anyway.”

buttering egos must be an acquired skill around here.

cheetah only flashes you a toothy grin, two fangs poking out from under his lips. “nah.” he replied with a shake of his head, patting down the towel slung around his shoulders to the perspiring skin of his neck. “want to be our disk? last time got everyone motivated to be the ones to throw you around.”

“no, thank you!” you bowed politely, turning around at record speed.

he snorted.

“bye, yuu-yuu.”

in hindsight no one would ever be sane enough to be a disk after watching a magical shift game considering it might as well just be a blur of color with all of the spells trailing after it. unfortunately, you were more so dragged into the role and reluctantly accepted your fate.

it was not a fun experience! you shivered, keeping your head straight to the entrance of the dorm as you resumed walking and ignored the disappointed hollers behind you. if you can’t see them, they don’t exist.

a breeze brushes through your legs.

the breeze trips you from your stride.

dazed with confusion, you remained stomach against the ground for a moment. what was that? you wondered after your brief startle, moving to push yourself up from the ground. a frown creases the space between your brows when you regained your stand and spotted the brown dust littering your otherwise, clean uniform.

you sighed when you found that it did not only cover your forearms, but also the front of your entire uniform. you might as well be rolling around on the ground to justify the mess on your clothes. 

this place really hates you.

“sorry…”

jumping ten feet from the air (you wish. you’re exaggerating for good measure.) you whipped your head around, searching from the pitched, misty voice that seemed to chime pretty close to your ear.

… must have been the wind.

the wind knocks you to the ground again when you moved forward despite your initial dumbfoundedness.

when you raise your face that once again planted to the ground, you are not greeted by the air you expected but rather than a pair of green eyes that was not familiar in the slightest when you pair their shade of hair alongside the irises.

“i’m sleepy. can we take a nap?” 

you gaped, horrified at the scare. “WHAT IN THE WO–”

��⎯⎯ . . . ‎

grim on the other hand feels like he’s in heaven.

setting aside cans of tuna’s under your bed felt like a mastermind plan he’s been devising for weeks, there was no way you’d discover the pile below! he chuckled to himself. at last, with you away for the night (he assumes you are, since you’re goin’ over to meet that overgrown cat!). grim is at least thankful for this one time that leona kidnaps you away from him.

with his feast laid out in front of him grim spares a loud cackle that shook him with so much please that warm puffs of smoke slipped through his canine teeth, the blue fire larger with his laughs.

now i can eat! finally! after weeks! he cried in his head.

grim was just about to leap in to tear through the metal can to ravish his meal but instead startled upwards at the sound of a door slamming against the wall he worried the entire building just might come down on him for a second.

dust flew down from the ceiling and floated on the top of the cans. grim’s flames roared brighter in response to his otherwise perfect evening.

myaaahh! it’s just one foot on it. he thinks to himself, dimming at the thought of facing your fury. you sounded angry considering you literally slammed the door despite knowing it would challenge the stability of this… dumpster! his anger doubles down into satisfaction considering he took it upon himself to indulge in this feast up in the attic.

where you, after spotting the state of dust during the first few days, remarked to never step a foot in there again with a sneeze.

grim sneezed, then sniffed. it isn’t his sense of smell that matters now anyway, but his sense of taste!

though that fleeting sniff has him sniffing again, having caught a whiff of some scent that’s not familiar in the slightest. spicy, earthy with no traces of your own unique smell that divides you from the other students grim refers to as ‘nobodies’.

but slightly familiar.

he just about jumps to the ceiling with how shocked he was from the sight of the door leading down from the attic quite literally flew from its hinges to the air, falling heavily down the corner of the space with a wave of sound, and dust that momentarily blinds grim who coughed at the overwhelming amount of particles he had inhaled in the wake,

“ah!” grim yelled in surprise, ears folding back. he shuffled to the other side of the room, body reared back defensively.

he does not know what’s worse, these acts of anger involving the furniture having you as the source or… the savanaclaw dorm  head that had just climbed the steps to the attic with begrudging slowness.

leona wrinkles his nose at the smell, turning his head to the side with a displeased expression plastered on his face. at the very least, the monster is intelligent enough to read that he’s less than in a talking mood. “you,” he all but growled, ascending the steps fully.

“m..me!” grim huffed, trying to look intimidating by the puffing of his chest. “this is private property! my henchman owns this place!”

the lion waves him off. “don’t care. whatever they own is mine, whatever i own is theirs.”

another menacing step from the male has grim blanching and scurrying back. until he feels the dusty expanse of the wall brushing against the tip of his tail comfortably, he at the very least makes sure the flame doesn’t accidentally get the whole building catching on fire. if he didn’t you’d be far scarier than this leona right now.

well… except this leona is the one enticing fear in him right now, not the imagination of you.

what in the world did you do to this guy? he thought frantically. he would have thought leona was immensely content with the fact that you were visiting his dorm like he was every other time. did you fight? why was he even here? did you throw him under the bus?

right. grim might have eaten one of the chilled meat inside the savanaclaw fridge–only finding out it was leona’s right after he spat out the wet piece of paper with his name stuck onto it but…

“you know why i’m here?” leona scowled, not bothering to crouch down to the monster’s height. such an action was below him, that’s why he only peers down through his lashes at grim who confusedly shook his head.

he mocked, voice coming out stuck between a low rumble, and a growl. “your ‘henchman’ owes me now, makin’ me wait all that time and being a no show.”

as if to showcase his irritation, his tail flicked sharply. ears pulled back but twitching at every little sound like he expects to catch yuu in the action of hiding from him or something. grim begs to differ because he has no idea where you were.

it must have shown on his face but leona refused to be in the dark about your whereabouts. “so,” he squinted, flashing a canine tooth. threatening all the well, and of course less than happy. “if you tell me where that herbivore is, maybe i’ll spare you from the storm that’s coming to them.”

more like tell me now or you’re not gonna like what’s gonna happen next! grim cried in his mind.

leona tilted his head, eyes skimming from grim to the surrounding room. “or maybe i can just bring the storm here? this place’ll be nothing but a poor imitation of that scarabia with all the sand i’m gonna leave it in.”

“you can’t destroy ramshackle.” grim protested. “this is my–yuu's home!”

the male waved him off. “i’ll just rebuild it into somethin’ more suitable for them. easy.” briefly distracted after entertaining a thought, leona’s face smoothed down into blankness. “they can just stay with me.”

leona was in for the worst mood in the century when two whole hours after your designated meeting time at his dorm, like usual which you almost always upheld by being there in the first place, sometimes a little late but nonetheless present.

initially one hour was the most he was willing to wait. then leona thought to spare you another gracious hour before he eventually begrudgingly stood from his already comfortable position to the bed to look for you himself. there was no way he was going to pass up on quality sleep.

not that he would’ve tolerated waiting for five more minutes for others, much less an hour then two.

unfortunately. it was just you.

he flicks your forehead twice. “that’s for being two minutes late.”

you frowned at him. 

he shook the memory off before it can fully be the pin in the inflated balloon he currently calls his emotions. he’d flick you more than one twenty times that’s for sure, until the only thing you’d remember was him, even though leona knows his finger would lose the force by the third flick and you’re simply just feeling him poking you.

“anyway,”

“yuu ain’t here. they went to meet you, didn’t they?!”

“that’s right.” his eyes narrowed.

“then it’s not my fault they didn’t show for your attitude!”

leona grinned and stepped a foot forward with a bit more force than necessary, creating a stomp that promptly startles grim. “what did you just say?” he taunted, daring. say it again.

he sidestepped the ball of blue fire that came from grim’s teeth. “i’m telling yuu.” he said off-handedly.

grim panicked, straightening and sitting in a manner that was almost docile. “no!”

the man scoffed at the silence that settles into the air. your little partner was useless when the only thing tying him to this college was you and the audacity to not ensure your safety boggled him so much leona was almost tempted to transfer you over to savanaclaw despite your countless denial.

better to be safe than sorry. he thought. he would rather you be safe than him be sorry.

one glance at grim and of course the yapping he’d been doing the entire time, leona concludes that this little thing wasn’t any better in the where in the seven is yuu department. the only thing he’s irked about is that he went all the way here–that you somehow made him go all the way here.

he pinches the bridge of his nose, turning on his heel and sluggishly descending the steps from the attic. he must be going mad.

grim does not bother to muster up any form of courage to ask where leona was going, he already knew.

he could only think about what was gonna happen to the poor soul called you.

on his way navigating through your sad excuse of a (temporary) home, leona can feel the presence of your many spirit friends staring. to some extent he understands why, he did almost bring the entire dorm down since his arrival and he hasn’t even used a drop of his magic yet.

they can at least be grateful he shut the door on his way out.

leona momentarily thought about simply using a transportation spell to get him to the mirror chamber, from ramshackle to the main campus… it was quite a far destination to go through back to back. maybe he should think about hitting up a mage who excels in mirror transportation.

whoever made the mirror chamber. for your convenience.

wait a minute. why should he be worried about your convenience when you just about stood him up?

leona decides against the spell. it was complicated, and his thoughts was not in the right place to focus on converting his body and mind at the same time. he reckons he might as well be sending himself to somewhere farther with his state of disarray.

all the way to the mirror chamber, his face was etched into a permanent scowl. leona only ever kept your notifications unmuted, so a buzz from his phone has him reaching and opening it immediately.

one new message from chek–

he shuts the phone as his perpetual scowl deepened.

if seeing leona actually roaming the halls and not dozing off somewhere was a surprise, his face was practically a loud sign warning to stay away. that’s exactly what the passing students did, spared a glance, double checked, then steered clear from his way without another attempt at gossip.

they knew he could hear whatever they were saying. not that he cared enough right now.

the strange feeling of getting transported from the mirror chamber back to savanaclaw shortly takes all thoughts from his mind before it returns as he registers the familiar feel of his dorm, soothing but not quite home. home would more so be a person to him than a fleeting thing like a place.

like…

“dorm-leader!” 

“welcome back!”

“what were you up to, dorm leader?”

a chorus from entirely different people sound from the therianthropes likely practicing for a match that was ages away. such was the spirit of savanaclaw students that want to excel in one singular area like magishift when they put their mind to it. leona can atleast say he feels the same.

the long sigh he emitted was a quick sign he was annoyed, a sign that his dorm residents have learned to read over the years. they doubled down from their excitement at seeing him and settled a bit more pliantly.

most probable thing tied to his temper nowadays was probably you.

a lynxes’ ears twitch as he recalled seeing you earlier, talking to cheetah. so why was the dorm leader mad? “leona-senpai.” he started cautiously as the male walked past him, not sparing him a glance but definitely listening.

leona thought lynxes was just greeting him until the other continued. “you here to see yuu-yuu?” 

he stopped in his steps, the slow swing of his tail betraying the nonchalance plastered across his face. from the way he turned his head over a shoulder a little was his own universal gesture of urging someone to continue.

despite a moment of excitement at the prospect of his dorm leader paying attention to him, lynxes relishes it quickly. “yuu was just on their way to the dorm.” he continued as cheetah perked up at the mention of the name. both of them do not think too deeply on the obvious uncoiling of the tenseness from leona.

cheetah nodded along. having resigned to resting by one of the bleachers seeing as he’d been playing for over half an hour. “yeah. the little human dropped by earlier with their scrawny self smelling good.”

at leona’s critical eye, cheetah back tracked. “like food. i’m sure it was for you, leona-senpai.” he huffed, sharing an incredulous look with lynxes. geez…

the only really scary thing about yuu was the fact that you’d managed to wrap their dorm leader around your fingers like it was nothing. you seemed like you weren’t even trying anyways! you were just… there, and it’s like leona’s the one keeping you close even though he was notorious for, well. doing nothing.

“where’s the herbivore?” 

“they were on their way to the dorm.” lynxes replied.

cheetah sighed wistfully. “what a shame, really. was really looking forward to yuu-yuu playing magishift again.”

lynxes snorted. “doubt they can even hold up the weight of the disk alone.”

“i meant as our disk like before, doofus.” cheetah nudged him., lynxes scowled lighty at the name. both of them chorus a farewell to leona who had already started retreating after catching the answer to his question. if you were here, while he was over at your place… was that a waste of time then?

perhaps.

he can’t feel a bit annoyed. at the timing–then at the fact that he feels relieved.

leona only grunts in response, his own unique way of a thank you that eliminated the unnecessary need for words. good thing his dorm residents understands his non-verbal cues at least, more so you.

you had an uncanny ability to detect quite a lot about him since, well… the more time you spent together. you said he was grumpy when he doesn’t do anything–which is insane considering he doesn’t do anything at any given time (you just mean he’s grumpy all the time.) and when he asks, you only mimic the look of ‘his grump’.

a response to you. “i don’t look constipated.”

a response to him. “so you’re saying you look constipated?”

the man stepped into his dorm, a certain haste in his steps that does not drain his energy but makes him feel more alive with each assuming step closer to you as he directs himself into the wide area of savanaclaw to his own room.

he barely registers the murmurs of greeting that fly his way with each dorm mate that spots him roaming the halls. of all students in night raven college, it's his own that are most brave enough to still spare him a greeting even if he seemed not in the mood. of course it is, only his dorm doesn’t have cowards.

not that he’s not in the mood anyway. a few minutes ago, sure. but now? he’s begrudgingly unable to deny the anticipation that threatens to lift his lips.

unfortunately he passes by ruggie who immediately walks backwards with his pace to annoy him surely. “leona-san.” he greets with a grin, resting his hands behind his head and skillfully ignoring the incoming obstacles called people.

thanks to his reputation around, the greetings to leona are also mixed in with a ruggie-senpai, or a ruggie-san if it happened to be a first year.

leona gave ruggie the stink eye. “leave me alone.” he grunts out, impatient as he walked.

ruggie makes a show of letting his eyes drift down to his legs. wider steps. “you’re in a hurry.” he observes slyly. compared to other openly tactical students–ruggie was subtle to himself, never quite revealing any cards until the very last resort. one of the reasons leona kept him close. “didn’t know there was anything exciting in ‘vanaclaw.”

the hyena chuckled to himself, raising his brows at a passing sweaty student who was on the verge of a brawl with another.

“don’t care.” replied leona.

“been gone for a while.” ruggie threw back. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you mope around in your room for so long, and tail it out.”

by the time leona finally spared him an irritated glance, he was speaking again. “so, did ya find em’?” ruggie didn’t need to be told what form of craft had leona rising from his comfortable coffin and going venturing out. its you, always has to be you somehow. be it in savanaclaw or elsewhere.

“no.” he rolls his eyes, finally opening the door to his room about to turn back and shut the door in ruggie’s face–but that was when he expected to see you pliantly sat on his bed and waiting because you owed him that much.

leona stops. staring at the empty space of his bed. he looked around the room, no sign of you but a whole lot signs of ruggie which wasn’t what he was looking for at all.

so he doesn’t care who’s been snooping despite the shameless animal behind him if it didn’t have anything to do with you.

“you came back, empty-handed?” ruggie quirked a brow, dropping his hands from his hair and tugging at the signature scarf of his dorm around his neck with a glance around. “gee. it's hot in here.”

leona pinched the bridge of your nose. whatever semblance of a good mood he had moments ago was thrown out the window when he found–that you were indeed not here in his room where he expected you to be. where else? you weren’t too buddy-buddy with any other dorm mates besides jack, and jack was in his room when he passed it.

you weren’t there either.

cheetah, and lynxes… he sighed in his mind.

“look for that herbivore in each corner of this dorm.” he sniffed, shaking his head.

leona pauses.

he sniffs again.

a scent of yours invades his nostrils, calming his rising temper to a halt suddenly. he stops, and looks scrutinizingly around the room with key focus. you were in here, somewhere. leona took a step closer to the bed, following the warmer tinges of your smell.

he took a right. it faded slightly so he went back.

by the time he was hunting for you, ruggie curiously took a deep inhale and wrinkled his nose. “ack… now this place smells like yuu-yuu. to think i thought them smelling like you was bad.” 

it was true, the scent was particularly stronger than it should be. had he not noticed? the closer he walked to the bed, the stronger the smell was. with each step it practically swirled around in his head to the point where he could just sleep deeply in comfort, tricked into thinking you were laying right next to him.

like you were next to him,

leona stops by the side of his bed, narrowing his eyes at the crinkle of his sheets.

he stared closely until it seemingly squirmed at his intense stare, shifted a bit to the side like there was someone on it and leona’s hand shot out above the area. surprised to feel a limb, ankle perhaps? fit loosely within the confines of his palm.

“gotcha.” he whispered in triumph, tugging at whatever he had grabbed. it felt like a body, a potion perhaps? it didn’t quite feel like you, leona would know how you feel because he felt you in his soul.

leona, and ruggie stared in startle when the air flickered like translucent mirrors that reflected the light, and warped into something entirely.

“a little kid!” ruggie shouted in alarm, scurrying to leona to take a closer look.

the kid in question was… weird. more specifically, they smelled strangely familiar which was strange in the first place. leona leaned in, to which the kid squirmed when he inhaled deeply from the steady pulse of their adrenaline from their neck.

“who are you?” he all but growled, ruggie grimaced at his tone of voice like he was judging the way leona dealt with kids. surprisingly, unlike the usual intimidated bundle they only look vastly annoyed, like leona was a bother.

safe to say the man picked up on that as well.

they turned their head stubbornly. “you’re ruining my nap time!” they exclaimed–it was official. he was a bother. green met green and leona faltered when a haze of confusing familiarity stared at him right in the eye.

he glances at the pair of ears, a ribbon wrapped just below the fluff of hair at the edge of their tail. they must have sensed it because they huffed at his face.

“jealous?” they said at his stupefied face. “mada gave it to me earlier when i found them.”

he doesn’t know who mada is but they have terrible taste.

“a lion therianthrope.” leona observed.

“obviously.” the kid replied.

the former’s face soured, the latter snickered.

“looks like a baby you, but more sassy.” ruggie quipped.

the room pauses. first of all, leona briefly remembers the scent he was following and quickly determined that while this kid was swarming with your smell, it still wasn’t the strongest in the room. second of all, why?

“oi,” he grunted, rearing back when they swiped at his face at the prolonged proximity. “keep your claws in. you better have a good reason why you’ve been keeping my herbivore from me.”

“mada is mine!” retorted the kid with a distasteful scrunch of their nose as they turned their head away from the man, closing their eyes as if it was giving them a disability to look at him any longer. who was that?

leona’s eye twitched and one glance at ruggie quieted the hyena from an ongoing cackle of glee immediately–though he didn’t seem too prone to stopping considering his alternative was looking away so leona doesn’t see his grin.

contrary to the proud stand of the child’s ears, leona’s own flattens in response and he has to remind himself that he’s above chucking random kids who happen to smell like you out the window. “i don’t know who your mada is but–”

“mada is mada.” they huffed.

“...”

leona was quite forced to drop the little ‘rascal’ or so he thought when they feigned a bite at his arm. they plopped down back onto his bed, body too little so they bounced off a little. then… they scurried from the edge, away from him all the way to the edge and grasped at air.

literally holding onto air, fingers clenched around something.

his eyes sharpened. “what else are you hidin’?” he queried at the kid who boredly stuck out a tongue but hid back when his scowl deepened. to some extent he figured it was you, a quiet dispel incantation in his mind sent a wave of magic and the air flickered again to reveal the suspect of his most eventful day.

yuu. you. whatever

you looked like you just got caught hiding beneath a bench in broad daylight, your eyes drifted to the child and hilariously enough, seemed as though you also wanted to hide behind them. “novu…” you murmured lowly, as if all three therianthropes in the room could not hear you clearly. “you said i have to keep quiet and he won’t find out!”

novu blinked repeatedly. their demeanor falling slightly with the curl of their ears, they seemed strangely docile compared to the half bothered demeanor that was in the face of leona. “papa always finds us when we hide.” they whispered back, pursing their lips. “he’s a cheater interrupting our nap!’

you nodded vehemently. “true, he is.”

ruggie coughed. “wait, wait… about leona being this kid’s… papa or a cheater?”

“...”

“both!” replied novu cheerfully.

this time you seemed to be in jetlag to process the information, staring at novu’s face before it shifted to leona. “huh,” you murmured. they kind of looked alike, from the eyes, to their seeming shared feline traits. “HUH?!”

you sat up immediately, hands shooting to the small shoulders of novu who perked up–instead of being offended by your sudden startle they seemed incredibly pleased and nuzzled into the warmth that seeped from your palms through their top.

“what do you mean papa?” you swallowed. suddenly feeling incredibly nervous, especially with the heavy aura leona is emanating behind you, you really don’t want to turn around and see what kind of expression he’s wearing on his face. 

the urge to shake the kid who had technically kidnapped you from the forbidden thing called crashing leona time then happily insisting it was novu time now. just a few intentional widening of their eyes and you begrudgingly followed them along to leona’s room which was surprisingly devoid of the man himself.

just from the small bits of his, and ruggie’s conversation when they returned you easily concluded he came looking for you.

and… well, you don’t really want him to see you at the moment when you unintentionally-intentionally blew him off.

you meant. it’s fine, right…? you do spend a lot of your time with him, so just a few hours wouldn’t be too bad.

everything is not fine! you screeched in your head. any hopes for respite from these two were promptly thrown out the window when novu’s face soured when they glanced at leona.

“papa doesn’t share you with me, so i have to take you first.” novu said proudly. at this point the hands on their shoulders weren’t enough so they climbed on your legs and slumped against your front, distinctively making a sound of contentment as they relaxed.

befuddled, frazzled, more words relating to perplexed ran through your head as you confusedly wrapped your arms around the little figure and pet the top of their head. novu seemed especially pleased when your fingers neared the fur atop their ears and even rubbed their head against yours in what seemed to be affection.

still shocked to oblivion, as in my soul just left my body you turned your wide eyes to leona who, to your surprise, did not bear a face of grump but a more unsettling blankness that cleared any semblance to emotion really. he stared intently at your head, obviously ignoring the disappointed look ruggie is digging to the side of his.

the hyena–when he caught your gaze also spared you a shake of his head as if he was non-verbally insulting you with an insinuation of something you haven’t even done, or yet to anyway.

you had briefly caught snippets of their exchange during your small interaction with novu, leona growling out an out which left ruggie no chance to deny but concerned enough with the new addition being seen to close the door on his way out.

when leona finally spoke, he furrowed his brows at novu. a flicker of annoyance at the sight of the clear coddling of the little one against you and the fact that you welcomed it. “i don’t have any kids.” he huffed like it was obvious.

novu did not open an eye but spared him a reply. “i don’t know how you and mada made me but you’re my only papa, and they’re my only mada.” despite their previous acts against leona, they were oddly proud of proclaiming themselves as his child.

leona raised a brow. he reluctantly softens, or instinctively you’re not sure.“you’re not from around here, are you?” he quipped. the bed dips under the new weight as he settled down next to you, surprisingly restrained enough not to pluck the kid out of your grasp and take their place.

he leaned back against the pillows, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

“i’m where i’m supposed to be.” sniffed novu, a lower tilt to their voice trailing off that spoke volumes about their state of consciousness. “with you, and mada.” 

novu nuzzled against you, shifting slightly like they wanted to wriggle out. you retracted your arms to your sides and they sighed deeply when they settled in the middle of the bed, eyes still closed and breathing evening out.

“don’t leave me for so long.” they yawned.

you blinked.

leona kept staring at the ceiling.

why was he so docile?! you were still trying to wrap your mind around it all!

“goodnight.” you muttered dumbly.

you turned your head to point a sharp gaze at leona–who sighs, feeling your stare and grumbled under his breath.

“night.” he rolled his eyes.

the room lapses in silence from a while, bathed in the dawning set of the sun. you considered stealing a blanket from leona’s drawer but decided against it, considering the dorm is still quite humid even at this time of day, if you were at diasomnia you’re sure you’d have frozen to death even with a pile of them on top of you.

you snuck a glance at the elusive novu, their energy burnt out as they fell to a sound sleep, occasionally their ears twitched when your body shifted the slightest bit, reaching out as if you keep you from going.

aw. you kept still.

“is this my future?” you sulked to yourself, sighing as the weight of your shock faded into the air and left you slumping against the bed.

“is it so bad?” leona commented after your remark faded a bit.

you crossed your arms, sneaking a glance at him. “they’re cute.” you referred to novu.

not an answer to his question. leona thought in irritation, you always did have a way with a head made up entirely out of air. then again, his might be as well if he’s taken such a deep liking to you that prevents him from letting go–that in the first place was demented of him, he was not clingy.

leona does not entertain the pictures that his mind conjures to rebuke his denial of fondness in physical form.

sleeping on you, teaching you chess, keeping you close? that was just him collecting pieces to discard.

sure.

“just sleep, you’ve been looking for me all day, right?” 

leona closes his eyes. “i have.”

he’d just have to give you a reason to look forward to seeing a novu again.

‎⎯⎯ . . . ‎

by the time you woke up there was something draped around the bed.

you instinctively patted the space next to you, not feeling the strange feel of novu but the hard plane of leona’s cheek. he does not swat at your hand but spares you an annoyed scowl. you note that he’s… well, a lot closer than he should be even with the missing space of novu between your bodies.

oops. the only thing to pull leona out of a grumpy mood in the morning was a meal. you clearly did not have the current power to do so as you had… fed the doom sandwich to a pouty novu.

thankfully ruggie popped in, barely blinking at your sprawled figures on the bed but more surprised at the missing recent addition. “where’s your lovechild?”

jack’s voice rose from the hallway. “their what?!”

“get out.” leona sneered. “you’re ruinin’ my morning.”

it wasn’t already ruined?! all three of you cried in your minds.

trivia

their unique magic is “from where do you see me?” which you might already guess is being able to conceal themselves in thin air, alongside a thing, or person they have to be directly touching as they’re still young, and inexperienced to properly control their unique magic without a medium.

novu is written to be an equally cheeky 7 year old that happens to take naps very seriously, and not so energetic when deprived of sleep (i’m trying to write all of the children to be generally gender neutral lol but i do have a ‘implied [gender]’ next to their names in the draft lol! as you might guess, alice is feminine… but what about novu?

a second italicized word means that it was novu! for example: ‘must have been the wind’ is really just the wind, whereas: ‘the wind knocks you to the ground’ is the cheeky novu!

cheetah, and lynxes are not their actual names. just called them what they were, which is an actual cheetah, and lynxes therianthrope who both respectively belong in the family of big cats.

unlike alice who was on a clock during their time in the past, novu wished to sleep well and was sent back in time to find you so they can enjoy a lengthy sleep as the future you had not returned home alongside future leona due to a political exchange.

so once they finally fell asleep, they will eventually return.

yuu hid the sandwich and tailed it out of the cafeteria immediately, not wanting to stick around to know that one of the non-humans with crazy senses smells it on them and decides to target them!

ruggie usually doesn’t comment on the weather of savanaclaw but he does say “its hot in here.” because it felt warmer compared to the outside, which didn’t make sense. it was very much due to yuu, and novu in the same room.

magical shift disks are known to be heavy in weight alone, that’s why it's mainly used to direct imbued in magic. yuu did, actually get roped into a game by being a disk which was… an experience.

jack was supposed to be hear but i missed the bullets where i outlined him LOL

writingerror on archive of our own inspired partial parts of this work (as well as me writing once again honestly) which includes the interactions with students to yuu, as well as the.. yuu being a disk part which is a chapter in one of their works!

the reason why leona’s ‘morning’ is not ruined despite him already being bothered first thing is due to you!

🔖: @lostsomewhereinthegarden @staplertwst @rinis-reality @rhyzoma @iamprodigious @irzali-imagines @glitterandgoldfinds @luna-looniesblog @wokasiv @readrecieptoff @miyaswmire @dakissomewhere @yourfavouritecitizen @rei-vii @colombia-chan @ceramic-raven @leitor-sonolento @night-shadowblood-writes2 @ms-shroud @bju3c0re @usernamesarehardtomake @wonderlandcrown @los3rtown

[cherrixpie]

NEMESIS

part four of five

↬ you were supposed to steer clear of mattheo riddle. Shame that he was just so irrestible.

↬ sfw; wc: 9.1k (good lord these keep getting longer); cw: violence, blood, broken bones, suggestiveness, swear words; tags: gryffindor!reader, muggleborn!reader, enemies to lovers

( masterlist )

The wind howled through the stands, tearing at banners of both red and green, as sheets of icy rain slashed down in relentless torrents. Over night, the weather had taken a dramatic shift, to the disfortune of any poor bloke who was on the pitch today. The pitch had turned into a mire of mud and puddles and looked more like a battlefield than the site of one of the most anticipated Quidditch matches of the season: Gryffindor vs Slytherin. Above, the players on their broomsticks were little more than blurred streaks of color, their shouts swallowed by the roaring of the storm. The sharp crack of a Bludger smashing into a broomstick echoed through the chaos, drawing gasps and cries from the diehard fans who clung stubbornly to the stands despite the weather.

Near the base of the stands, Madam Pomphrey hovered over you like an agitated owl as you sorted through the bandages and potions at hand. Ever since you'd started practical training in the Hospital wing to improve your chances to become a healer at the prestigious St. Mungos Hospital, you'd been assailing her at quidditch games. But you'd only ever had Gryffindors to look out for before.

“Playing in this weather is nothing short of lunacy,” Madam Pomphrey muttered, her words only heard over the howling wind because she stood so close to you. “The last thing I need is another student catching their death out here- or worse, ending up on one of my stretchers.”

Though you didn't say it out loud, you estimated the chances of that being close to zero. Not only the weather made this an exceptionally brutal game. It seemed as if the players translated the stress of playing in such conditions into pure violence, and the thick mist of rain only made the many fouls harder to detect. The game was turning more brutal by the minute. You did your very best to identify your friends, but only caught a glance of Harry hovering over the game, looking for the faint glint of the snitch through the fog and dodging the occasional bludger. And, of course, Ron, guarding the rings.

But your restless eyes didn't only scan the skies in search of your friends. Any time a Slytherin player passed the stands, you'd anxiously try to make out whether they were a beater, whether they were Mattheo. But he seemed to be amidst the center of the game. Sometimes you thought you spotted him when you recognized a figure with club that vaguely resembled him. Sometimes, you thought the figure looked back at you, but you couldn't be sure of anything when rain and fog clouded your vision and made it impossible to pin point anything.

Suddenly, another violent crack echoed through the stadium and the fans let out a collective gasp when the small, blurred figure of Gryffindor’s seeker slipped from his broom, having been violently hit with a bludger. Before even Madam Pomphrey could react, you, who'd been on your toes all game, cast a spell to slow his fall and took off over the field to meet him when he met the ground in a rather soft thud thanks to your spell. The nurse followed hot on your heels and together, you hoisted Harry up on your shoulders and helped him towards the sidelines as Madame Hooch signaled time-out.

The bludger must've hit Harry in the face at short distance, because it only took one look at his blood-smeared face and crooked nose to know the latter was broken. You had the vague idea it wouldn't be the last one toady. As Madam Pomphrey healed it with a flick of her wand, eliciting a crack from the nose as it sprung back in place and a pained groan from Harry, you recovered a diptam from your belt and leaned down in front of him to apply it to his face.

“That was Riddle,” said Harry bitterly as you healed the cuts and bruises to the best of your abilities. The murtlap essence did wonders on his injuries, but still, your worried eyes scanned his face restlessly as Harry kept raging. “He's had his sights on me ever since we lifted off the damn ground! Dunno what's up with him, it's like he doesn't even care about the game anymore. He's a damn psychopath, he is.”

Before you had the chance to respond, three thuds announced the arrival of three other players and you turned to them as they approached. Madam Hooch lead them, she walked on large strides over to Harry to inspect the graveness of his injury. Behind her followed a highly enraged looking Malfoy, platinum hair clinging to his forehead, and Mattheo, seemingly relaxed though there was a storm brewing in his eyes that rivaled the one he and the others were facing above ground. Your eyes met and you froze mid movement when he, despite the situation, gave you a quick grin. Just like Harry and Malfoy, he was covered head to toe in mud and his hair was even more of a mess than usual, but you had to admit it suited him better than the other two.

“From such a short distance, my my,” raged Madam Hooch who was quite red in the face. As most teachers did, she directed her anger at some point over Mattheo's shoulder instead of looking him into the face. “That's a foul if I ever saw one. Gryffindor gets a penalty.”

“But Madam Hooch!” called Malfoy indignantly. “He only did his job, isn't it allowed for the beaters to use their clubs anymore?”

“On the bludgers, not on fellow players!” hissed Madam Hooch angrily. Malfoy stroke up another argument, beginning with the words "my father...", but Mattheo couldn't have cared less. So what if Gryffindor got a damn penalty, there was much more important things to be enraged about. Like the way you fussed over Potter, how worried you looked, how pretty you looked in your nurse uniform, a white dress that fell down to your knees paired with the most adorable nurse cap. Mattheo realized he liked white on you. In his world that was drowned in such darkness, you stood out amongst crowds like a glowing ember. As much as he hesitated to admit it, he felt lighter anytime he laid eyes on you.

“Mate, help me out here!” Malfoy pushed him, but he fell on deaf ears, because you had just glanced back at him. Your reproachful look almost made him smile. A few loose strands of hair fell from your nurse cap into your face and clung to your skin. Even if you were to glare at him, he'd much rather have you do that than go back to giving your attention to Potter, of all people. But alas, you turned back to him and wiped the paste off of his face, giving him a light slap on the back to get back on his broom.

If possible, the wind cut even sharper as the game went on. Even under the cover of the stands, theoretically providing protection from the rain, you were soon drenched to the bone. You'd even had to borrow a Gryffindor sweater from Dean because your uniform had started to become see-through, and the material wasn't thin. By now, everyone was just praying for one of the seekers to catch the snitch and win the game. Though Slytherin was in the lead, partially due to a newfound brutality from their beaters, if Harry caught the snitch soon, Gryffindor would still win.

Just when you dragged the box with the medical supplies further under the cover of the stands to prevent the bandages from soaking up- by the looks of the game you would need them plenty- it happened. You hadn't looked, preoccupied with your task, so the only indication that something was wrong was the shocked screams of the crowd. As you looked up to see what was going on, for the smallest split of a second, you could make out a seemingly rogue bludger rushing towards the stands, specifically, towards you. You didn't even have time to close your eyes or shield yourself from the impact when a flash of green shot through your field of vision and the crowd breathed a sigh of belief.

Rushing forwards, you gripped onto the barrier and looked up at the sky only to catch a glimpse of Mattheo's jersey until he disappeared into the mist once more. Gryffindor scored. As the red and golden covered stands to your left erupted in hollers and cheers, you were hit with the sudden realization that Mattheo had not only saved you from being hit by a bludger, but had also diverted from the Gryffindor chasers, allowing them to score. It didn't fit. He'd been playing with undeveloped ferocity the whole match and now passed up the chance to intercept Gryffindor scoring? But, you thought to yourself, heart still hammering in your chest from the shock, maybe you should just give up trying to make sense of Mattheo Riddle, when he'd so far proved to be everything you thought he wasn't.

Due to the doubled efforts of Nott’s solo runs and Mattheo's bludgers being a major hindrance to the Gryffindor chasers and messing up their formations, forcing them to scatter, Slytherin took the lead by a long shot. But still, if Harry caught the snitch now, they could still win.

You were focused on him that you didn't even catch the maneuver of the Gryffindor beaters. There was a resounding crack heard throughout the stadium, even through the splatter of rain, and one of the Slytherin beaters was slammed into one of the stand walls with such force he bounced off of it before hurling towards the ground. Seconds before the player could hit the ground, they managed to pull their broom up and towards the sky, but their face was full of blood.

Your brain needed a moment to comprehend the situation, but then you read the name on the back of the player’s jersey and the blood seemed to freeze in your veins. Oh God. It was Mattheo. Panic-stricken, you turned to Madam Hooch. Not only had this clearly been a foul, but Mattheo needed time out to get patched up. But Madam Hooch was preoccupied with overlooking the Slytherin chasers ramming through a Gryffindor formation and the endless sheets of rain seemed to obstruct her vision. The Slytherin stands roared in indignation, but Mattheo steadied his broom mid-air, wiped his sleeve over his face, which only seemed to make it worse, and got back into formation.

Even Madam Pomphrey, who had expressed her dislike of Mattheo several times, gasped worriedly. “The game needs time out! He can't play in this condition!”

Your insides felt like claws, reeling against your ribcage as a sudden assault of worry hit you. The impossible frustration of not being able to help, to have to watch Mattheo get back into the game with gritted teeth was suffocating. Past you would have been indifferent, maybe. Past you was an idiot. Your hands gripped the barrier so tightly your knuckles turned white, and you couldn't take your eyes off of Mattheo’s figure. The blood seemed to be obstructing his vision even more than the walk of downpour already did,

Why did you care so much? Why did worry over a boy like Mattheo Riddle eat you up from the inside? Though it was quite untrue, you doubted there was anyone like Mattheo Riddle. Maybe it was just easier to pretend that your concern, the fact that you cared so much, was illogical, than to admit to yourself that he wasn't just you-know-who’s son anymore. That your fear of him had subsided and given way to not only interest, but affection.

The thought scared you. You knew exactly what your friends would say if they knew that you cared for their mortal enemy. Hermoine would look at you with a mixture of disgust and worry, maybe she'd even feel betrayed. And Ron? He'd feel like you'd fratanized with the enemy, you knew he would be angry. What about Harry? He'd been so understanding yesterday, but only after you reassured him that you detested Mattheo. A lie. Mattheo was supposed to be your nemesis, too. But he wasn't anymore.

What was he to you? The question rummaged in your brain as you watched his figure anxiously, wincing any time he got too close to a bludger. In the forest, he'd been intriguing. In the kitchens, exciting. Then, in the library, and you felt almost ashamed to admit it, attractive. But that wasn't all. What you felt for Mattheo couldn't be summed up in mere interest or attraction. It was a coiled up snake in the deepest pits of your self that had raised his head slowly, before you'd even realized it. You couldn't pin-point it, you just knew you wanted to know everything about Mattheo there was to know, and, that you hated to see him hurt.

The Slytherins were now in the lead by one-hundred-and-sixty points, but you couldn't have cared less about the score. More than ever now, you hoped for the game to end so you could have a look at Mattheo. But when the whistle sounded shrilly through the stadium, it was only to announce another two penalties for Gryffindor after Malfoy had fouled Harry mid-dive, both of whom Ginny dunked.

And then, finally, Harry and Malfoy went into a dive and, under the victorious roars of the Gryffindors, Harry emerged holding the snitch over his head. The score board showed Gryffindor: 260 points - Slytherin: 250 points.

Mustering up little more than a sigh of relief, you hurried over to the cart with the bandages and healing potions, arming yourself with supplies as the players landed one after the other. More than half of them immediately made a beeline for the medical tent, to you and a very ill-tempered Madam Pomphrey who muttered something about high risk sports and student safety. It had been an exceptionally rough game, and most players were at least bruised up, at worst limping heavily and clutching their ribs. As they trailed in, your eyes frantically darted around in search of Mattheo, but you couldn't find him.

Soon, you were preoccupied with fixing up the Gryffindor chasers, but your quick, distracted glances around the tent told you that he wasn't here. But where could he be? Dread pooled in your stomach as you bandaged up Ginny’s left hand and applied murtlap essence to her fellow chaser’s cuts and bruises. Only more people seemed to trail in, but, bit by bit, you managed to send them all off again. Still, Mattheo hadn't showed. As you were just contemplating whether you could just walk into the snake’s den, aka the Slytherin changing rooms, and offer treatment, you felt someone’s hand on your shoulder.

You spun around and were faced with Theodore Nott, looking very wet and very moody. The sight of him calmed you somewhat, you knew he and Mattheo were close. Nott looked as grumpy and sinister as ever, but he didn't sound aggressive. “Are you free here?” he asked in his Italian accent and you nodded silently. His frown subsided somewhat. “Can you come with me? Mattheo’s refusing treatment.”

For a split second, you wondered whether Nott knew about Mattheo and you. Then, you mentally slapped yourself back into reality. There was nothing between Mattheo and you, other than a few late night encounters. He'd only asked for you because he didn't want to ask Madam Pomphrey, you supposed.

“Of course,” you said, a little more enthusiastically than would have been necessary, and quickly rounded up some medical supplies to stuff them into your bag. Then, you followed Nott out of the tent, through the downpour of rain and down the steps that led into the Slytherin’s changing rooms.

As you walked down the stairs, you passed a group of Slytherin players who shot you nasty, albeit unsurprised looks. Struggling to keep up with Nott’s long strides, you hurried after him and averted your eyes from the passing Slytherin's. In front of a door with the engraved words ‘changing rooms’, Nott halted his step and nodded towards it. “He's in there, make it quick.”

Nott took off after his friends and you were left standing before the door. For a few hesitant seconds, your fist hovered in the air in front of the wood, and for some silly reason, your heart was thumping like mad. Finally, you knocked. Due to your sudden surge of timidity, it was a soft, quiet sound, barely heard over the splatter on the roof. Still, a voice you recognized as Mattheo's called from inside, clearly audible. “Come in, princess.” As if it had been a command, your hand fell down to the handle, you pressed it down and the door swung open.

The first thing you noticed about the Slytherin changing rooms was that they were way tidier than the Gryffindor ones that you'd often visited after a game to fetch Harry and Ron. No empty bottles, no forgotten jerseys on the ground and it smelled surprisingly good for a sports changing room, though the distinct smell of smoke clung to the air. All seemed perfect in place- except for the a smashed-in locker on the left side and the boy that sat, smoking, on one of the benches.

Mattheo hadn't even made an effort to change yet, both his jersey and his face were seeping with blood. His nose looked broken and his lip was busted up, which didn't stop him from taking continuous drags out of his cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the dim light. Wisps of smoke curled around him like ghostly shroud. His dark curls hung heavy and damp over his sharp features, framing the defiant smirk that tugged at his lips despite the pain evident in his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. His eyes, dark and unfazed, met yours with a flicker of something unreadable- half daring, half relief- as if, even now, bloodied and battered, he was too proud to let the hurt take hold. Or too used to it.

His heavy gaze felt disarming as you stood aimlessly in the doorway, faintly dripping with water falling from loose strands of your hair. Mustering up a small smile, you closed the door behind you and attempted to ignore the way his gaze burned into your back as you turned to the door. “What if I hadn't been me?” you asked in an effort to diffuse the situation of the weird tension in the air. “What if I'd been one of your friends? That would've been awkward.”

When you turned back to him, his gaze had softened almost indiscernibly. His cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, his eyes raked over your drenched and drippy figure before snapping back to your eyes with the self-assurance of a skilled predator cornering its prey. You met his eyes without blinking and the corner of his lips twitched slightly. “None of my friends knock as if they're scared somebody will hear it.”

Your lips curled. “Touché.” With slow, deliberate steps, you walked over to him and came to a halt before him, fingers closing tensely around the handle of your medical bag. Even just the parts of him you could see looked badly hurt, though he didn't show any signs of pain. Maybe he had CIPA syndrome. Or maybe he was just a masochist.

Mattheo caught your wandering gaze, blew a cloud of smoke your way and leaned back against the back of the bench expectantly, cigarette between his bloody fingers. “Well, then, I'm all yours.” A lazy grin played around his lips, in spite of the situation, and it was as attractive as it was infuriating.

Before he could react, you snatched the cigarette out of his fingers and discarded it into an ashtray near you before turning back to him. “It smells disgusting,” you let him know and he chuckled, raising his hands in faux surrender.

You felt hesitant to approach him, touch him, even though you had his consent. His dark eyes rooted you to your spot, made you unable to move. You wondered whether it was some sort of spell until he raised his brows. “Any day now, princess.”

“Don't rush me,” you whispered, averting your eyes and scrambling around in your medical kit for the right supplies. You layed out bandages and healing potions out on the bench opposite him and turned to him once more to tap your wand against his nose, murmuring “episkey” under your breath. With a disgusting cracking sound, it snapped back in place, but Mattheo didn't flinch, only continuing to stare up at you. With the same feeling of sticking your head into a snake den, you leaned down nervously to examine the wounds on his face, whether they needed stitching. The deep cut near his jaw did.

“Careful there, princess,” Mattheo murmured and your eyes snapped from the wound to his eyes, only inches away. “Someone might think you have un-pure intentions.”

You couldn't help the blush that painted your cheeks pink, more so due to his proximity than his words. Still, you brought some distance between you and searched in your bag for needle and thread. “My intentions couldn't be more pure,” you huffed and he laughed lightly from behind your back about a joke you couldn't understand. Or maybe, you did.

“That is true,” he lamented and you heard ruffling. You turned around quickly and snatched the pack of cigarettes out of his hands. He looked mildly surprised at the frown on your face.

“Come on,” you said, voice somewhere between annoyance and pleading. “are you really going to poison yourself while I try to patch you up?” Fitting the threat through the needle, you ignored his raised brows and concentrated your attention on the deep cut in his cheek. A damp towel in the other hand, you ran it over the wound to clean it and then leaned in closer. “This might hurt.”

He completely ignored the last part, but you could feel his eyes on you. Damn him, he was just so distracting. “Hm,” he hummed, as if in thought, and ignored your hiss to keep still. “One might almost think you care about me.”

“I do.”

Both you and him looked up in surprise, and you quickly looked away as his eyes stayed on you, almost hungrily. “Hold still,” you murmured, and finally, he complied, allowing you to insert the needle as gently as possible and start to surture the wound. It was almost scary how still he kept now. You desperately wished to break the silence that spread, that followed your words like a blanket of led pressing down upon the both of you. It was only the truth, you cared about him. You cared for him. You cared for Mattheo Riddle. In order to concentrate, you attempted to shut all that out, but the confession hung in the air between you, as impossible to ignore as he himself was.

Finally, you finished the last stitch and tied the suture with a surgeon’s knot off the side so it didn't touch the wound. A small part of you hoped desperately that Mattheo would overlook your slip up, maybe even forget it, but that, of course, was naive. When you put away thread and needle, grabbed the murtlap essence and walked back over to him, he looked up at you without the trace of a smile on his lips. “You care about me,” he repeated, not a question but a statement. His eyes fixed yours as he got a hold of your wrists. “More than you care about him?”

“Who?” you asked, perplexed by the severity in his tone. A hint of displeasure washed over his face, but it gave way to indifference after just a second. “Potter.”

“W- what?” you spluttered out, laughing nervously. How on earth were you supposed to answer that question? “He's my friend,” you said hesitantly and freed your wrists to dab some of the potion onto the tips of your fingers. As you leaned down, you froze mid motion when you felt hands on your waist. His hands on your waist. Large and warm and rough even through the fabric of your nurse uniform. His touch seemed to send sparks of electricity through your body that balled in your stomach and made your breath hitch.

“Go on,” he commanded quietly, and though they were trembling, you brushed your cream-smeared fingers over one of the bruises on his jaw. They travelled up over his cheek, tending to the scratches there, but you could hardly keep your attention on them when his eyes seemed to bore through your skull.

With a low voice, he muttered your name, your first name, and you were so shocked to hear him call you anything but ‘princess’ you did the smallest of double takes. “Is there anything more than that?” he asked, and he seemed more tense than before as his fingers curled into the flesh of your belly lightly. “Between you and him?”

Both the idea and the fact that you'd just been asked it by Mattheo Riddle of all people elicited a shocked little laugh from you. But he didn't laugh, only watched you with an expression that you might have mistaken for indifference if it hadn't been for the clenching of his jaw. “He's just a friend,” you clarified, your cheeks growing warm. “We're not- we've never- It's not like that,” you closed abashedly and put a bit of distance between you under the excuse of getting more murtlap. His hands fell from your waist as you walked over to the opposite bench, heat boiling in your face.

You tried to keep your expression composed as you got back to him to tend to the other side of his face, putting some murtlap over the stitches as well for good measure. This time, he didn't hold your waist, but when you were finished and brushed off the remaining essence on your skirt, he caught the hem between his fingers and his light tug caused you to stumble forwards in between his parted legs. His hand travelled upwards, tracing the curve of your hip without ever touching them and locked around the hem of your Gryffindor hoodie. There was a magnetic sort of darkness in his eyes when he looked up at you, two black holes that threatened to swallow you whole. “Take that off.”

In hindsight, you probably shouldn't ever have complied with his request. But his voice was so soft, his eyes so alluring, his whole being like a siren’s call. So you curled your fingers under your hoodie and, heart beating hard against your ribs, pulled it slowly over your head.

Mattheo's breath hitched as his gaze locked on you. The dim light of the changing room caught the soft outline of your figure beneath the thin, damp fabric, your nurse’s uniform clinging to you like a second skin, innocent in intention, but anything but now. The delicate outline of your bra was visible through the slightly see-through fabric. His throat tightened, a mix of a pang of guilt and a despicable surge of fire curling in his chest like smoke.

You looked so pure, so untouched by the edges of the world that had long since roughened him up. The contrast hit him like a bludger- your soft, careful hands that had just cleaned his wounds now pulling your hoodie over your head, oblivious to the firestorm you'd lit inside him. The urge to discard that Gryffindor hoodie and dress you in one of his jerseys, hiding the sacred sight beneath with a claim of his possession, was so overwhelming he clenched his fists, desperately trying to remind himself that you were not his, you were too good, too-

His train of thought was interrupted when you shifted slightly and folded your arms over your chest, only pressing your boobs together. He dragged his gaze away, but the weight of your unreachable warmth, your white-clad purity, lingered, carving through his battered core and leaving him feeling utterly undeserving.

When he looked away, you recoiled slightly and scolded yourself for thinking, hoping, he might react. But before you could put some distance between you, he looked up at you and his gaze locked you in place, making you freeze just as effectively as a pointed wand might have. Mattheo leaned forward and for a confused moment, you almost thought he was going to kiss you, but he only rose from his seat and walked past you.

Only when you heard shuffling behind you, you realized he was rummaging around your medical supplies. No, not rummaging, you realized when you looked over in alarm. He was cleaning up, packing all bandages and potions back into your bag.

“You don't have to do that!” you called and hastily approached to take the murtlap essence out of his hands. But he kept a firm grip on it and raised his brows at you with a mocking little smile. It seemed so out of place after the heavy tension between you in the room. “Hey, ‘m trying to do something nice here, princess!” With one glance, you assessed that Mattheo wasn't one for neatness, as he didn't assort the items in any order or symmetry whatsoever but merely threw them all into a heap and closed the lid. But still, the gesture was weirdly considerate and you couldn't help the little smile that crept onto your face.

“Thank you,” you smiled and he only nodded, averting his eyes. Right now, with your moist strands of hair sticking out of your nurse cap, your pretty little smile, the way the nurse uniform clung to your body, it was hard to withstand the urge to kiss you. Then again, what if he did? It'd all be over. It was etched into Mattheo by habit that if he got close enough to a girl to get intimate on any physical level, it was time for any strings to be cut loose as to not endanger the fragile balance that was what was left of his heart.

But it had never mattered to him, he'd kissed and fucked them anyway because he could, and it felt good, and then he was relieved when it was over. He’d never before held back. And in favor of what? Spending time in your presence? Pathetic, was what his father would call it. Mattheo couldn't explain it either, he just knew that, in this moment, his desire to be near you, to keep you, was stronger than the desire to rip your damn uniform off of you, explore the soft flesh beneath and give you the time of your fucking life right here on this bench.

You seemed hesitant as you grabbed the handle of your bag, your eyes raking over his torso. Of course, you were too good of a nurse and too smart of a woman to not guess what wounds he had to hide beneath. But for now, you couldn't see them.

“Thank you,” he said honestly, and the unfamiliar sound felt so natural when he said it to you. “For patching me up. Fine nurse you are.” He made no attempts to hide the flirty undertone and the lightest of blushes spread across your cheeks. He breathed it in like a drowning man.

With a barely concealed smirk and a “you're welcome,” you approached the door of the changing rooms.

Something like an iron fist closed around his insides as you opened the door and he couldn't hold back the words that stumbled from his lips. “Wait!” You froze and turned to him once more with an expectant look, and, as if he'd always known it, a stroke of genius found his way out of his mouth. “You know shit about muggles, right?”

A genuine grin formed on your lips. “I should hope so.”

“How ‘bout you tutor me in muggle studies then?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. With a light frown, you crossed your arms over your chest and he gave you a pleading look. “I'm gonna fail the class if I don't get my grades up asap.” Satisfied by the way he could practically see your resolve melt at the look he was giving you, his lips almost twitched but he bit down on it to hide any trace of his true intentions. In truth, he couldn't have cared less about muggle studies, but it was the perfect excuse.

“Fine,” you said, albeit begrudgingly, but you also gave him a little smile as you slipped out of the door, leaving only the vague smell of your perfume and a shaken up Mattheo behind.

Even though you had been apprehensive to the idea at first, tutoring Mattheo turned out to be something you started to look forward to every week. With every tutoring lesson, he seemed to be warming up to you more and more- and you did, too.

A few weeks into december, you found yourself laughing at his jokes and getting caught up in his brown eyes, that seemed softer than you'd ever perceived them. And you discovered that Mattheo was funny. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that never failed to make you chuckle, even when you probably shouldn't have. Not only that, but he was also smarter than you'd ever given him credit for.

Previously, you'd thought of him as a mix of brute force and cunning, not unintelligent but thinking more so with his fists. But he was incredibly smart, and you felt not only a growing bond but also fondness in a not-so-platonic way. It also helped that confusion looked simply adorable on him, which was not a word you thought you'd ever apply to Mattheo Riddle.

“So,” he asked in one breath as he plopped down on the seat opposite you in your secluded corner in the library one snowy tuesday evening, “what the fuck is a movie?” Taken aback by his sudden arrival, you did a double take and quickly cleared the desk of your schoolwork to make space for his books and parchment as well. As he spread them out, your eyes got stuck on a few splatters of blood on his white shirt and you frowned. He, of course, didn't miss it, you saw it in the way he shifted his jacket to cover the stains, but didn't mention it further.

“Harry or Ron?” you asked, as you knew him well enough by now to know that the only instance in which he wouldn't brag about his brawls to you was when your friends were involved. He looked almost guilty when he glanced up at you. Almost.

“Both”

Rolling your eyes, you put your books aside and crossed your arms over the table. “So, movies, huh? Where might that word come from, ‘movies’?”

“Come on, princess, you know I hate word definitions,” he whined, resting his head on the propped up palm of his hand and making his best puppy eyes at you.

You chuckled about his behavior and gave a light slap to his forehead that made the curls fall into his eyes in the most irresistible fashion. “It's supposed to come from 'moving pictures’”

“But muggle pictures don't move,” Mattheo frowned, seemingly recalling what you'd taught him just last week.

You nodded. “No, they don't. You see, when muggle pictures move, they don't call them pictures, they call them videos. And they don't move in their own, but because muggles line up an unbelievably high number of pictures and then play them in order, so they look like they're moving. Of course, today, the technology is a little more advanced. But movies often span one if not several hours and they tell stories, like books. It's kind of… as if books came to life. They have a whole range of other means to archived their ends though, like camera perspective, many also have music that can emphasize moments and influence how you see them, actor's performances, lighting-”

You fell silent suddenly and cleared your throat. As so often when you explained muggle concepts to him, you had started to ramble on with increasing passion. Now, you looked back at Mattheo to apologize, but his gaze was locked on you and a light smile graced his lips. Your heart seemed to skip a beat and you quickly averted your eyes down to your book. “Sorry, that was- I'm rambling again.”

“Do you see me complaining?” Mattheo asked with raised brows and kicked your shin lightly under the table to make you look up at him. “So, what's your favorite of these things? These movies?”

“Impossible to answer,” you laughed outright and ran a hand through your hair. “There's so many that are just so good, I could never pick one.” The smile remained in your lips as you contemplated the movies you'd maybe have chosen, but none of them were better or worse than the next.

“So, you like them? Movies?” he asked, watching your features closely. These last weeks, you'd started exposing more of your emotions to him through free expression more than words, had taken down some of the walls you still had left around him. Though he didn't say it out loud, you could tell he appreciated it, because his eyes studied every change of expression rigorously, as though he'd receive everything you gave to him of yourself with insatiable hunger, though he didn't reciprocate them in the same way.

“Yes,” you replied, fiddling with your quill.

There was a slight furrow of his brows when he locked eyes with you. “But they don't exist in our world. So, you'd give them up?”

“Why would I have to give them up?” you countered and leaned back in your seat. “I think the way we talk about the muggle world and the wizarding world is completely wrong. We talk about them as if they are different universes entirely and not part of the same word, the same country. Look at me!” You performed an awkward motion indicating yourself. “I'm part of both, and I don't feel torn, I feel more complete.”

His eyes flickered between yours as he contemplated your words. In the short silence that followed, you glanced around to make sure no one had taken notice of your little outburst. You hadn't told anyone you were tutoring Mattheo, that you were meeting you-know-who’s son two times a week in one of the more secluded corners of the library. Your friends would freak out if they knew, you could picture their aghast expressions, they wouldn't understand that an irresistible force pulled you towards the boy sitting in front of you. How the tutoring lessons had turned into a game of pretend for you, as you tried to hide your growing fondness for him while opening up parts of yourself for him to see. A fragile balance. And whether intentional or not, you'd seen parts of him you'd never known, or maybe you'd heard them through the tone of his voice or the tapping of his hands.

“There are worlds within worlds,” Mattheo broke the silence, and you frowned. His serious look indicated that he wasn't merely talking about the muggle and the wizarding world. You caught his hands tightening ever so slightly around his book and bit down on your lower lip.

“I’d have to disagree. There are just collectives within collectives. If the limits of different worlds are separating us, we can just make it simple and give each other up.”

You'd made it personal, and you scolded yourself silently, glancing up at the clock despite not really seeing the time. Both you and him knew you had slipped up. When talking about issues slightly more serious than movies or superhero comics, which had amused Mattheo greatly, it was a fine line drawn in the sand neither of you could cross, a silent agreement.

The air felt weirdly tense whenever one of you- more often you than him- threatened to bring up the fact that the unmistakable divide between the two of you went far beyond little house quarrels and teasing. That there was a world behind those protective castle walls both of you drowned out whenever you were in each others presence. The clock showed ten past nine.

“Worried that you're going to break curfew again, princess?” God, how you hated yourself for loving the way he said it, that little nickname that you used to despise, and now it was all his.

“No,” you said, tearing your eyes away from the clock and back to him. Nothing in his sharp features indicated that he recognized the tension that had lingered in the air just moments before, but he was too perceptive of a person to have been unaware. It dawned on you that he was probably trying to make you less uncomfortable and nervously tapped your quill against your lips. Mattheo Riddle being considerate was dangerous, because every time he showed his gentle side, it evoked a hunger in you to see more of it.

“You sure?” he asked, a sly, teasing smile resting comfortably on his soft lips. Only now that you found yourself looking at them closer, you realized there was a cut on them, continuously seeping small drops of blood into the corner of his mouth. You suppressed the sudden and utterly mental urge to lean over and wipe it off with your sleeve. It was not the blood that you minded, though. Maybe his craziness was rubbing off on you, because you abruptly thought that you wouldn't mind having his blood on you. Yep, he was definitely rubbing off.

Then, you realized what you were doing, staring at his lips, and fumbled to answer his question. “We still have enough time until curfew, if we leave in half an hour, we'll still have more than enough time to get back to our dorms.” You realized you were babbling on to avoid his heated stare and looked back at him almost defiantly, daring him to tease you for it.

Mattheo didn't take his eyes off you as the corner of his lips quirked upwards lightly. “Look at you, little miss perfect. I'll bet you’ve never broken a single rule in your life before I came along.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Maybe I don't feel the need to.” The ‘unlike you’ lay on the tip of your tongue, but you didn't need to say it out loud.

Mattheo grinned and shifted in his seat, his knee brushing yours under the table. “You're missing out. Breaking the rules is half the fun. The other half is not getting caught.” He watched you bite your lip, trying to conceal a little smile that threatened to creep onto your face. So, he'd been right, you had enjoyed your more risky encounters. Thinking back to the night in the library when you'd fled from madame pince, he remembered the way your breath had hitched when his hand had touched your neck. The way your soft skin had felt against his rough palms, your doe eyes glittering in the dim light.

Suddenly, there was shuffling in the shelf behind you and you shot around, holding your breath. The place you'd chosen for you tutoring lessons was hidden behind the shelf with the twelfth century economical wizarding records and every single tome in it was layered with a centimeter-thick layer of dust that had allocated there over centuries of disinterest. You'd thought it the perfect hiding spot. But after a few seconds of nervous glancing around and your heart racing as you listened into the silence, one of the school’s cats rounded the shelf and passed by you and Mattheo without a glance.

You breathed a sigh of relief who looked back at Mattheo who was watching you closely. “Dangerous, isn't it? Sitting here with me like this.” He twirled his wand around his fingers and leaned forward subtly, the motion alone making you feel as if he was cornering you against the shelf behind your back. “People would start talking.”

“About what?” you said dismissively and rummaged through your notes, just to have something to do with your hands. This tended to happen once you'd strayed from the topic at hand even slightly. Mattheo starting to tease you out of nowhere, and you struggling to keep up with his quickly changing moods that sometimes threatened to give you whiplash.

Mattheo leaned closer still and propped up his chin on his elbow, still wearing a casual grin. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe about how l've completely corrupted you with my evil charms.”

Your sighed with a mix of exasperation and amusement. Tapping your finger against your chin, you rolled around the words in your head before speaking. “You know I'm not treating this as, I don't know, something forbidden. I'm not scared of, how did you put it last week? Ah, yes, tarnishing my reputation. You're-” you hesitated, but then, your words reached out to him like a welcoming hand through cold and unfeeling fog. “You're not as bad as people think, by a far.”

A dry, almost bitter chuckle fell from his lips as he absentmindedly fiddled with the collar of his blood-stained shirt and bit down on the cut of his lip, drawing drops of red from it that trailed down to his chin without hinderance. This time, you couldn't resist the urge and leaned over the desk, extending a hesitant hand. Mattheo froze, not watching your approaching hand but you, but he didn't recoil either, so you wiped the blood from his chin with the hem of your shirt sleeve. The blood stood out prominently against the white of your shirt.

When you drew back your hand, his shot up like an attacking snake and closed around your wrist. With some sort of morbid fascination, it seemed, he stared at the tiny spot of scarlet, before his eyes snapped back up at you. His tone surprised you, you couldn't really place it, it was a mix of softness and chilling intensity. “You really think there's good in everyone, don't you?” he asked, piercing you with his brown eyes that were so unlike those of his father.

“I try to,” you said, attempting to sound humorous, but the chuckle dried on your lips and your voice swayed to softness as you held his gaze. He didn't have to ask, you could see the question burning in his eyes, so loud as if he'd screamed it. And you didn't even need to nod your head to make him understand that the answer was yes.

The winter holidays came and went. The lesson before departure day, he'd told you he'd stay in Hogwarts over Christmas, and you felt tempted to invite him over to yours for a split second before the cruel claws of reality dug into you and you merely wished him happy holidays.

There was a slight unease in you when you boarded the train, as if something was about to go horribly wrong. But when you arrived after the holidays and left the train alongside Harry, Ron and Hermoine, you spotted his shrouded figure in one corner of Hogsmeade train station, a soft curl of smoke rising from his dark profile. For a split second, you'd locked eyes with him and you couldn't help a smile of relief to see him again.

Because both of your friends started asking questions eventually, you often met up after curfew, though you still hushed around the halls nervously any time you did and earned a great deal of teasing from him for your timidity. From time to time, you managed to break into (you preferred the term sneak into) classrooms at night.

These weeks of sneaking around made you masters of discovering hidden chambers in every corner of the castles, and you were particularly careful and made sure Harry ‘forgot’ the marauders map somewhere in the common room or ‘lost’ it and found it again next morning under his bed. Frequently, you met up in the kitchens and you baked while telling Mattheo all about muggle cellphones, that he understood the concept of surprisingly quickly.

On one occasion, you even demonstrated them to him as you pretended to get lost in the sheer blizzard howling around the houses in Hogsmeade to meet him behind Madam Puddifoots and called your parents, fascinating Mattheo. This night, however, Mattheo had discovered a new room behind the entrance hall. The two of you had cozied up with blankets and candles on the couch, keeping a few inches distance at minimum. The dim candlelight was way too ripe for disaster.

“So, let me get this straight,” Mattheo said an hour and a half into your study session. “Muggles have metal, bird-shaped containers with which they can not only fly, but they actually do it.” You laughed at the incredulity in his voice, though a tad bit distracted by the shape of the record sleeve digging into your back. Because Hogwarts castle only had enchanted record players available, you'd asked your parents to send you one of your vintage vinyls you thought he might like, but you were hesitant, had told yourself that you'd just take it in case there was a record player in the chamber Mattheo had discovered. Well, there was.

“I don't really like planes either,” you said, smiling understandingly, “I even prefer brooms over them and you know how I feel about those.”

He hummed vaguely and glanced over at you. “What's got you so shifty, princess?” A sly grin spread over his features. “You got something hidden behind your back, don't you?” Infuriatingly good at reading you, he was, as ever. With a small sigh, you decided that he'd learned enough about muggle transportation for tonight and pulled the record sleeve out from out of your bag.

“Listen up,” you said, excitement and nervousness coiling in your stomach. “Do you remember when I told you about muggle music?” Though Mattheo had undoubtedly been preoccupied with watching your expression shift with passion and your hands gesticulate, drawing patterns into the air, he nodded. “Okay,” you said, nibbling on your lower lip, and held up the vinyl awkwardly. “I thought I might give you a taste of muggle music, only if you want, of course.”

He could tell you were anxious about playing him the track and raised his brows at your humming and hawing and nervously twitching fingers. “What are you waiting for, princess?” The abashed smile you gave him melted him in ways he'd never be caught admitting out loud.

Sometimes it was quite frightening how you made him feel, and more than once, he'd found himself laying awake at night, not only because of his chronic insomnia and returning nightmares but also torn between the reflexive urge to push away you and how you made him feel so utterly disarmed and vulnerable, and the irresistible desire to see you smile again and let your unconditional kindness wash over him, soothing the dark voices in his head.

By now, you'd walked over to the record player and inserted the vinyl. With a tap of your wand, it started spinning and the sounds of a guitar filled the room. The muggle guitarist played a few chords before starting to sing. When you lowered yourself down on the couch, you didn't bother with putting the usual space between the two of you. No, you seated yourself right beside him, so that he could feel the warmth of your body radiating against his like a hug. As the refrain set in, you put your head on his shoulder.

“And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die”

Mattheo froze for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as your head gently shifted against his shoulder. The simple, unspoken gesture of affection sent a rush of warmth through him that was both startling and utterly intoxicating. He glanced down at you, his a dark eyes softening as they traced over the curve of your cheek, accentuated by the flickering candlelight, and your lashes resting light as feathers against your skin. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, hesitant at first, afraid to disturb the fragile moment. Slowly, very slowly, his hand shifted, fingers brushing against the fabric of the couch before finding their place beside your arm, just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of you.

“Take me out tonight

Take me anywhere, I don't care,

I don't care, I don't care”

He felt like one of the mythological figures you'd told him about. Mattheo had scoffed at Icarus' idiocy, but now, he felt like he could understand where he was coming from. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and teasing, betraying none of the blazing storm raging inside him. But even still, it was edged with a sincerity he couldn't quite hide. “Getting comfortable, are we?”

You only shuffled closer in response, but Mattheo had to suppress the urge to pull you in, wrap his arms around you, drag you into his lap for all the pleasure and calm it would give him. He was a selfish creature, but at this moment, he managed to stay perfectly still, safe for his fingers barely brushing over the fabric of your sleeve. Your breathing, having come in small, hasty little puffs before, slowed as you sat in silence, leaning on each other and listening to the lyrics filling up the space in your room you didn't fill with your words, because they would never be sufficient.

“There is a light that never goes out

There is a light that never goes out

There is a light that never goes out”

The song faded into silence and you started to move again. Mattheo hid his disappointment when you stood up from the couch to walk over to the record player. As you put the vinyl back into its sleeve, you turned back to him and for a few seconds, you merely watched each other in silence. Then, Mattheo rose as well and handed you your bag, that you took without looking at it.

Could it be that you felt the same reluctance to leave this room as he did? But you had to, his gaze flickered to the clock. Other than him, you had the chance to get some sleep tonight. So he threw one quick glance around the room, the floating candles, the sleeping portraits, the empty couch, leaned down to your level and pressed the lightest of kisses to your cheek. It was warm and soft under his lips, and he could hear your breath hitch in your throat. Damn little minx you were.

“Good night,” you said, quietly, and he returned your smile before opening the door for you, the feeling of your skin against his still lingering on his lips.

Maybe you both should have known it was going a bit too well. Maybe you'd become too self-assured in your nightly adventures. In any case, neither of you had caught the portrayed woman in the frame above the couch watching you through half-closed eyes, feigning sleep. As you closed the door behind you, she rose from her false slumber with a dirty secret in her hands- and a burning desire to spread it around the castle.

taglist: @aespaslut @kricketwritesstories @catching-fire-in-the-wind @a-little-funny @thejediprincess56 @polireader @voidangxls @artsyle @nkvgt @ashrocker123 @chimchoom @onlytenkos @yvonne-dump @alwayslatetothefandoms @ravisinghs-wife @eneywey @viylikecats @darksss5516 @cocosparkel @stereading @helendeath

[finelinefae]

the game [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n's desperate to play tennis and who better to coach her than her rival

word count: 6.7k

contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, jealous h, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals

a/n: this is the very first part of a new series that i am soooooo beyond excited to be writing !! it will most likely have 4/5 parts <333 enjoy !!!

. . .

Crestwood Academy was a prestigious boarding school with a mission to cultivate excellence in its students, many of whom went on to achieve great success in their respective fields. Nestled amidst rolling hills and lush greenery, it welcomed only the most accomplished families into its esteemed halls.

Y/N had attended Crestwood Academy since she was five, thanks to her father, who owned a country club and could afford the tuition. Her parents, strict and focused on success, were determined to give her the best education possible so that she could be the very best. Her face was always buried in a book or spending her days in the library, right up until the very last minute of its opening hours. 

It was her final year at Crestwood Academy before graduation. Y/N had been set on passing all of her exams at the top of her class so had been working extra hard. She studied English, maths, all three sciences, Latin, French and History as well as tennis. 

Y/N's parents had always urged her to pursue a career in the top industries. Despite her efforts to feign interest in that direction, her heart had always belonged to tennis ever since she first took up the sport at Crestwood.

She had competed plenty, winning all the academy trophies and medals. Her parents would visit whenever she competed in finals and congratulated her on winning but saw it as nothing but a hobby to participate in when she wasn’t studying. 

However, Y/N couldn’t deny herself the rush of playing knowing she’d have to part with the sport once she graduated. The career path of becoming a doctor was already laid out for her by her parents but she felt destined to follow a different path. 

Despite the fact she had applied to dozens of schools to study medicine, she still had one more option that had nothing to do with science at all. 

Every year, the academies hosted their own version of a grand slam in which the winning player received a scholarship and three years' worth of training from one of the top tennis academies in the world. Y/N longed to be at the top with the greats and she knew that this competition was the only way she could get there. 

For the most part, Y/N had been self-taught. She watched videos online and took notes from the Wimbledon matches she’d see on the television. Crestwood only had one sports coach who focused most of their time on the football team so if she was going to win the scholarship, she needed the very best. 

She sat on the bleachers, her book open in front of her, but her attention was drawn to the man on the court. The player’s movements were fluid and powerful, each action deliberate and precise. Yet, it was another man who held her gaze—a figure with an impassive expression, focused solely on his player.

When the match was over, Y/N slammed her book shut and walked towards the court after the players shook hands. Her eyes looked down at the limp in his step as he walked towards the cooler to grab a water bottle. 

It had been a while since she had last seen him. She remembered the proud look on his parent’s faces when he was pulled out of Crestwood eighteen months ago and went on to win a grand slam in Australia. She could still feel the intense jealousy that filled her as she watched the match on television whilst studying for her chemistry test that he was also supposed to sit had he stayed. 

Now he was here, back to his roots and maybe it had been fate because what she was about to ask him would determine her own path in the tennis career she longed for. 

His hair was slightly longer now, his brunette, touseled curls were swept to the side in a loose, dishevelled manner. He wore sunglasses to cover his eyes from the sunlight and a navy tracksuit paired with white vans. 

Seeing him brought back the once competitive emotions she had whenever she’d see him strut about the courts every lunchtime but she’d have to suppress those emotions, especially for what she was about to ask him. 

“Excuse me, Harry?” Y/N called out. 

He took a water bottle from the cooler and flicked off the cap before holding it to his lips and gulping it down. Y/N waited, crossing her arms as she did. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.” Was the first thing he said. 

Y/N didn’t know what to say. It was unexpected to know that he had been waiting to see her, “I didn’t know you were part of the furniture on these courts,” He smirks and Y/N’s jaw ticks. “And you still sit in the exact same spot on those bleachers, to what? Admire me?”

Y/N bristled at Harry's cocky remark, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "Hardly," she retorted, her tone sharp. "I have better things to do than waste my time watching you play."

Harry chuckled, his smirk widening as he leaned against the cooler. "Is that so? Then what brings you here?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Come to get an autograph?”

Y/N squared her shoulders, determined not to let his arrogance get under her skin. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something," she replied, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh? And what might that be?" he inquired, his gaze piercing as he studied her intently.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage and suppressed her pride, "I want you to coach me," she blurted out, her words hanging in the air between them. 

Harry made no effort to hide the surprise on his face but it quickly melted into a cocky smirk, “You want me to coach you? I thought you hated me?” 

“I do,” She replies quickly. She’d hated him ever since he had humiliated her in a battle of the sexes tennis tournament when they were young despite the fact she had little chance of winning against him anyway. “But I don’t have to like you to recognise your talent and right now you're the best and only coach I can get if I’m going to win that scholarship,”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Your parents still want you to study medicine?” Something flickered in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t put her finger on. 

Y/N wasn’t going to give him an answer even though it was obvious, “This is the only chance I get to escape it,” She mutters, “I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

He glanced around before taking a step forward. She was tempted to step back at the same time but she didn’t want to seem intimidated by him so stood her ground. From this proximity, she noticed how much taller he was compared to her - almost an entire foot. 

“What’s in it for me?” He asked.

Y/N knew he’d ask which was why she spent so much time figuring out what she could tell him to make it worthwhile. “I know about your injury,” She says and he stills.

“Everyone knows about my injury.” He grumbles. 

It had been a spectacle in the world of tennis. The new grand slam winner loses out on his second after a fatal injury at the French Open. Y/N remembered seeing him rolling on the ground, holding onto his leg as paramedics ran onto the court to aid him. 

“People think you’re a one-hit wonder since you’re out for the season,” His jaw clenched as she spoke, “But if you coach me and get me to win, I guarantee you’ll be out on the court again - back where you belong,”

“You think an academy league game can get my back onto the court?”

“No, but it's a start and maybe I’ll be competing alongside you the next time you’re playing.” 

There was a moment of silence as Harry absorbed her words, his gaze searching hers for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Fine," he relented, his voice tinged with resignation. "You want me to coach you? Prove you’re worth coaching.” 

He walked over to the barrel of tennis rackets and picked one up. Y/N narrowed her eyes, remembering the last time they had played against each other and how embarrassed she was afterwards. 

“But you’re-”

“One game won’t hurt,” He said before she could finish. 

She followed, her steps purposeful as she reached for a racket, flipping it over in her hands as she strode to the other end of the court. Despite being clad in her school uniform—a pleated skirt, white shirt with the school crest, and loafers that threatened to slide off her feet—she was determined to prove herself. She'd show him she was worth his time, that she was a far better tennis player than he gave her credit for.

As they took their positions on opposite ends of the court, the tension between them crackled in the air. Y/N gripped her racket tightly, her focus sharp as she prepared to face off against Harry once again.

The first serve sliced through the air, the sound echoing as the ball hurtled towards Y/N. She moved with fluidly, her muscles tensing as she returned the serve.

Harry's response was swift, his movements confident as he returned the ball with a well-placed shot that left Y/N scrambling to keep up. Even with his injury, he still held the precision of a professional. But she refused to back down, her determination driving her to match him shot for shot, rally after rally.

The game intensified as they traded blows, each point reflecting their skills and determination. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she fought to keep pace with Harry, her mind focused solely on the ball. Both Y/N and Harry vocally exerted their energy through grunts and cries as they hit the ball with all their energy. 

Despite her efforts, Harry seemed to anticipate her every move. But Y/N refused to be outdone, drawing on every ounce of strength and skill as she fought to gain the upper hand.

As the game progressed, Harry's skill and experience began to overthrow her. His shots were close to perfect and strategic, leaving Y/N struggling to keep up. Despite her determination, she found herself falling behind as Harry continued to dominate the match.

In the end, it was Harry who emerged victorious, his final shot landing just beyond Y/N's reach with a satisfying thud. As the ball bounced out of the court, Y/N knew that she had been outplayed.

She rested her hands on her knees, hunched over as she tried to regain her breath. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d lost despite the fact she was at a disadvantage anyway. 

Harry’s shadow fell over her but she refused to look up just yet. He spoke anyway, “You’ve gotten better since the last time I saw you,” He spoke, holding a cold water bottle in front of her face. 

She took it, the plastic crackling under her fingers, “You can just say you’re not going to do it,” She mumbled, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of water. 

“I’ll coach you,” He says, “Meet me here at 6 pm tomorrow.” 

Y/N finally looked up, her mouth parted, only to find his back facing her as he walked away from the courts. 

. . . 

Harry had no idea what he had agreed to in coaching Y/N at tennis. 

He sat in his luxurious apartment ten minutes away from Crestwood Academy, surrounded by furniture wrapped in plastic or still in cardboard boxes. 

He sat on the couch with his feet resting on the coffee table in front of him and a glass of whiskey in his hand. The TV was playing quietly in front of him but his mind was on the girl he had spent the majority of his life competing with. 

She had grown since the last time he had seen her before he graduated and left the country to compete in the Australian Open. Her long, tanned legs were on show beneath the grey school skirt she had been wearing. He couldn’t seem to get the image of the visible muscles in her calves out of his mind as she moved across the court to hit the ball during their impromptu tennis match. 

Despite their personal differences, Harry couldn't resist her. There was an undeniable thrill in riling her up, in watching her reactions to the smallest digs. They had once been friends, back when Y/N would trail after him on the playground, eager to understand how to hit a ball with a tennis racket. But as she began competing in school competitions, she quickly learned that beating him was an impossible feat. 

He wasn’t surprised to see her watching him on the court today, in fact, it amused him. Whether she liked it or not, he would always look out in the bleachers for her whenever he’d play during his time at the academy. Her reactions were what kept him going, some might even say made him better. 

But, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was surprised to see her so brazenly asking him to coach her. He could tell by her reaction that it was killing her inside, to be coached by him when all she’d done was pick apart his technique, but it was clear she was desperate and Harry knew it was because of her parents. 

Harry had had his fair dose of strict parentage. When he was told he could no longer play tennis for the season, his parents shipped him straight back to Crestwood to finish his final year since he never actually graduated. 

He loathed them for it, barely saying a word to them as they paid the rent in cash for his apartment and left him with boxes to unpack on his own. He knew they were disappointed in him despite the fact the injury was no fault of his own, they could barely look at him as they left, closing the door behind them. 

It was embarrassing. How could he have gone from being at the top of his game to the very bottom? Now he was back in the place he had turned his back on, feeling like he was back to square one all over again. 

Harry’s thoughts were broken by the sound of his phone ringing. The name of his best friend since he was born lit up the screen.

“What?” Harry answered the call, his train of thought forming a particular level of intolerance in him.

“Hey, is that any way to talk to your best friend?” Mitch replied along with the sound of loud chattering in the background because he always had to be somewhere with someone. 

“Sorry,” Harry huffed, “Long day.”

“Already? You’ve not even started classes yet,” Mitch chuckled.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry hadn’t even begun thinking about being back in classrooms and having to put up with kids his age berating him with questions he didn’t want to answer. Tomorrow would be his first day back and he was dreading it.

“C’mon now, don’t be too glum about it, haven’t you missed me?” 

“No,” Harry lied. 

“I know you well enough now to know when you’re lying.” Mitch laughed down the phone. 

A hint of a smile grazed Harry’s lips, "Whatever," he replied, his tone gruff but lacking conviction. Despite his attempt to feign disinterest, a part of him couldn't deny the truth in Mitch's words. There had been many moments he had experienced after leaving school when he missed the company of people his own age. Everyone around him was older than he was and spoke to him as though he was some prized trophy that needed to be handled with caution. He’d spend evenings by the pool by himself, watching the sunset and wishing his friends were there to celebrate his win with him. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Mitch teased, “I know the boys will be happy to have y’ back and I can introduce you to Sarah. I think Molly Brown still has a thing for you as well by the way, talks about you all the fuckin’ time.” Harry listened to his friend ramble about all the things he had missed in the last year or so but his mind seemed to travel elsewhere. 

His eyes wandered around the room, his ear still pressed to his phone, until they landed on an open box with a picture frame resting on top. He recognized the photo immediately, even without picking it up, because he had kept it hidden in his old dorm desk. In the picture, a group of eight students—four boys and four girls—smiled at the camera, with Harry standing at the back and Y/N right beside him.

. . . 

Y/N slammed the door of her locker shut after pulling out her workbooks for her next class. Students bustled down the hallways of Crestwood Academy, wearing their navy blazers and uniform for another week of school. 

“Have you seen him yet?” Sarah, Y/N’s best friend, came out of nowhere and stood in front of her. 

“Seen who?” Y/N remained indifferent even though she knew who Sarah was referring to. 

Everyone had been talking about Harry since she had walked into school from her dorm room this morning. It was the main topic of conversation, everyone’s eyes darting around the hallways to try and find him. 

“You know,” Sarah nudged her, “The boy you’ve spent most of your life in a one-sided rivalry with?” 

“One-sided? It’s a mutual hatred,” Y/N argued.

Sarah gave her a look before continuing, “I texted Mitch twenty minutes ago but he hasn’t replied. I know I’ve met Harry before but this is the first time I’ll be meeting him as Mitch’s girlfriend and I don’t want it to change anything.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, “Sarah, just because he’s the winner of a grand slam doesn’t make his opinion of you any more important. Whether Harry likes you or not, everyone knows you and Mitch are perfect for each other.”

Y/N remembered the first time her friend had told her she was seeing Mitch. He had taken her out to dinner a few times and Sarah had come back to their shared dorm swooning and unable to stop herself from rambling the rest of the night about how romantic and funny he was. 

Y/N had never experienced anything like that in her life, too busy focusing on tennis and academia to find herself in relationships, but she was happy her best friend was happy and that was all that mattered to her. 

“I know but he’s important to Mitch. They’ve been best friends since infants and… that’s not all I’m worried about,” Sarah looked at Y/N pointedly. 

“What?” 

“Now that Mitch and I are together, that means we’ll be spending more time around each other which also means…” Sarah didn’t have to finish her sentence for Y/N to understand what she was trying to get at. 

“Oh n-no! No way! Sarah, are you being serious right now?” Y/N whined, “You want me to get along with Harry just because you’re dating his best friend?”

“You don’t have to but it would be nice if you did,” Her voice trailed off at the end, her eyes looking at her pleadingly, “I’m not asking you to be best friends, I’m just asking you not to chew his head off when we’re all in the same room together.”

Y/N wanted to argue and tell her she wouldn’t be able to chew his head off anyway because she needed him to coach her for the scholarship but an arm slid around Sarah’s waist and interrupted their conversation. 

Sarah grinned, turning to look up at her boyfriend who was now standing beside her, “Hey babe,” Mitch smiled.

“You’re here,” Sarah craned her neck to kiss his lips, “I texted you forever ago and you never replied.

Mitch scoffed, “It was twenty minutes ago and I didn’t have time to check my phone, too busy dragging this one through the front gates.”

Out of the corner of Y/N's eye, another figure appeared. She didn’t have to look to see who it was, the sudden surge of annoyance within her already gave them away. Her head tilted to the left to look up and see Harry. 

He was wearing his school uniform, the same way he always did before he left for Australia. His shirt was untucked, and the top button was undone revealing a gold chain and a white vest underneath, his grey trousers were ironed with not a crinkle in sight and his navy blazer hung casually behind him, hooked by his middle finger.

Y/N’s eyes shifted behind him to find people whispering to each other and groups of girls giggling as they walked past. It was nothing new to see girls getting riled up over him but it had become more intensified now that he had gone abroad and made a name for himself. Despite his injury preventing him from playing, Y/N was certain that even if Harry had lost every game and embarrassed himself on live television, people would still adore him.

“Hey Harry,” Sarah offered a kind smile.

“Hi Sarah, nice to see you again. Glad to know Mitch was in good hands whilst I was away,” Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder before turning to Y/N.

“Only the very best,” Mitch pulled Sarah into his side before motioning to Y/N, “You remember Sarah’s best friend Y/N right?”

“Hmmm, aren’t you the one who lost the Junior tennis competition to me a few years ago?” Harry smirked.

Y/N's jaw clenched, but she managed to force a smile. "I could be, but aren’t you the one who they recorded rolling around on the floor like a big baby at the French Open last year?" Her retort was sharp, aimed directly at Harry.

Harry's eyes narrowed in response, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction at having gotten such a reaction from him. "Welcome back to Crestwood," she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Mitch and Sarah exchanged weary glances, sensing the tension between Y/N and Harry.

"Quite a welcome. I’ve already been asked to coach someone and I’ve only been back a week," Harry remarked, his gaze still fixed on Y/N, who met his stare with a glare of her own.

"You have?" Mitch frowned, his confusion evident.

"Who?" Sarah asked, equally perplexed.

Harry's eyes remained locked on Y/N, giving them their answer. "You asked him to coach you?" Sarah questioned her confusion mirroring Mitch's.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, "Yeah, I did," she admitted reluctantly, her gaze flickering briefly to Harry before returning to Mitch and Sarah.

"Why would you ask him to coach you?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing in confusion, “You argue all the time,” 

Y/N hesitated, “I need to win the scholarship to the tennis academy in London and Harry’s the only person here who knows how to play the game.” 

“Glad to know I was the pick of the bunch,” Harry’s voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“I thought you were applying to go to UCL?” Sarah frowned. 

“I was but you know how much the game means to me and my parents refuse to believe it’s more than just a hobby. This is the only chance I’ll get to prove them wrong and the only option to get me out of studying medicine.” Y/N explained. 

Sarah’s eyes softened, she too was no stranger to how strict Y/N’s parents could be. “Which is why she needs me,” Y/N felt the weight of his arm rest across her shoulders, “Right, love?” 

Y/N spun around to face Harry, eyes sharp, “Don’t call me that,” She hissed, seeing the satisfied grin on his face. 

He shrugged, “But I always call you that,” 

Ever since they were teenagers, when the rivalry first began, Harry had opted to calling Y/N ‘love’ knowing how much it riled her up. To some, it was a term of endearment but in the world of tennis the word ‘love’ meant one thing. 

‘Nil, ‘Zero’, ‘Loser’. 

Y/N hated the way he spoke it too - accentuating each letter of the word to drag it out for as long as he could just to annoy her further. 

She stepped forward, “Call me that one more time,” She threatened.

“Or what?” He tilted his head to the side. 

“Guys seriously, break it up,” Sarah intervened, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting along if you’re going to be spending more time together.”

Y/N hated the thought of it but knew she was right. If she wanted Harry to coach her, she couldn’t go around screwing things up by arguing with him. If he was going to coach her at the sport, she’d have to coach herself in controlling her attitude around him. 

“C’mon Sarah, let’s go to class,” Y/N hooked arms with her best friend, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. 

“Oh okay, bye Mitch.” Sarah kissed her boyfriend before she was dragged down the hallway in a hurry.

Harry watched as Y/N practically sprinted down the hallway with Sarah in tow. He felt the need to call out of her for one last dig just so she would turn around and he’d see her face before she rounded the corner, “See you on the courts, love.” He called down to her. 

As he had hoped, Y/N’s head whipped around to glare at him along with her middle finger, “Asshole!” She called back.

Harry chuckled to himself, “That face,” he murmured. 

Mitch placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “You’ve got it in for yourself with that one, lad.” Mitch said.

“Tell me about it,” Harry replied, his eyes still on the place he’d last seen Y/N. 

Maybe returning to Crestwood wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

. . . 

With Harry back, Y/N had suspected the day would be a drag with everyone constantly bringing him up in every conversation, but the first half of the day had gone well. Y/N was easily used to her classes by now and was still top of the class in all of them. 

During lunch period, Y/N always sat with Sarah in the library where they’d catch up on what they missed out on each other’s lives or study during exam season. It was nice to have some reprieve during the school hours and whenever she was with Sarah, Y/N could talk for hours and hours.

Now that Sarah was dating Mitch, Y/N and Sarah would spend their lunch with his friends in the lunch hall. Y/N didn’t mind it so much having grown used to being around Mitch’s friends despite their loud and boisterous personalities. 

However, today she was dreading the fact that now her lunchtimes would also include being around the person she wanted to spend as little amount of time with as possible. 

“Can’t we just eat in the library today? Please?” Y/N pulled on the sleeve of her best friend's blazer as she begged her to turn back in the direction of the library. She could already picture Harry’s annoying smirk the closer they got to the entrance of the lunch hall.

“Y/N you’re being dramatic. It’s just an hour, I’m sure you can survive being around him that long.” Sarah continued to tug her down the hallway.

“Sarah I already have to spend enough time as it is,” Now that she asked him to be her coach. The more the day went by the more she was starting to regret her decision. 

Sarah spun on her heel, “Think of this as practice then,” Her eyes looked past Y/N’s shoulder, “Look, there they are,” She moved past her and beelined towards their table where Y/N saw Mitch, Jake and Adam already sitting along with that head of brunette curls that Y/N just wanted to tear out every time she saw him. 

Sighing, she followed Sarah and approached the table responding to everyone’s friendly greetings until she got to Harry, “You’re in my seat,” She spoke after realising all the seats were taken. 

Harry didn’t bother to look around, that stupid grin plastered to his face when he looked up at her, “Am I?” 

Y/N gritted her teeth, “Yes,”

“Hmm,” He swivelled around to look at the back of the chair, “I don’t see your name anywhere.”

A wave of chuckles rippled around the table but Y/N had yet to find the amusement in it. “She does always sit there, H.” Mitch chuckles, “Just grab another chair from a different table.”

Harry leant back against the seat and crossed one leg over his thigh, “But I quite like this seat.” 

“I’m not moving until you get out of my seat,” Y/N crossed her arms, refusing to give in to him. 

“Well you’re going to be stood up for a long time and y’ need those legs for later,” Harry smirked, “Or you could just sit here,” He unfolded his legs and motioned towards his lap, “Still your seat.” 

Y/N’s jaw clenched but before she could respond, Adam chuckled and stood up, “Here,” He picked another chair up from an empty table and set it down next to him, “Y’ can sit here Y/N.” 

She was tempted to refuse and continue to nag Harry for the rest of lunch but decided against it, not wanting to waste her energy on him. Her eyes softened at Adam’s kindness, “Thanks, Adam.” She sat beside him. 

Harry’s smirk seemed to falter when Y/N sat down, watching as Adam looked at Y/N even as she turned to face the others. 

“Is that Molly Brown looking at y’ again Harry?” Jake, who Y/N considered the loudest one of Mitch’s friends, leant over the table to speak lowly to Harry even though it was impossible for him to ever be so quiet. 

Harry forced himself to look away from Adam before he burnt holes into him. “She’s been after him since fifth year,” Mitch chuckled. 

“Y’ think you’ll let her have it this year, H?” Jake takes a spoonful of his lunch and swallows it down. 

“Have what?” Sarah frowned, confused.

“Nothing you need to know about, babe,” Mitch replies, opening her waterbottle for her after she silently handed it to him. 

“I’ve never been interested in Molly,” Harry quickly replies but his ears prick when he hears Y/N laughing quietly with Adam. 

“Mind if I take my chances then?” Jake asks, “I’ve always wanted to date a cheerleader,” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Harry shakes him off, “What about you Adam?” He gets the attention from both Y/N and Adam as they look up, “Don’t you have a thing for Molly?”

Adam furrows his brows, “Molly Brown? Maybe in like third year,” He chuckles, “I’m not interested in anyone at the moment.”

Harry wants to laugh in his face, “Y’ sure about that?”

Adam frowns but Y/N quickly interrupts them, “People are allowed to have other interests you know.”

Harry feels that rush of excitement when she speaks run through his body, “Is this a touchy subject for you?”

Y/N scowls, “No, I’m just saying Adam doesn’t need to be interested in girl’s all the time.”

“Well maybe Adam can speak for himself,” Harry quips.

“Lord save me,” Jake mumbles and Sarah laughs.

“Well what about you? Have you managed to sink your fangs into anyone?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N gapes, “I’ve dated plenty of people,”

The image unsettles Harry but he takes the opportunity to tease Y/N further. "Plenty of people, huh?" he echoes.

Y/N's cheeks flush slightly,  "I mean... well, not plenty, but a few," she stammers.

But Harry doesn't let up, "Oh, really?" he presses, "Care to share? I'm sure we'd all love to hear about the few men who you’ve tempted."

Y/N shoots him a glare, knowing full well that Harry was onto her. "I... uh, well," she stumbles over her words, searching for a way to change the subject.

But before she can respond, Adam jumps in. "Come on, Harry, give her a break," he glowers. 

“Yeah, Y/N’s just waiting for the right guy and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Sarah pipes in, always one to have her best friend’s back.

Harry raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Y/N and Adam before settling on Y/N, who shifts uncomfortably. Sensing the tension, Mitch swiftly changes the subject to something else.

. . . 

After lunch, Y/N made her way to her next class with Adam walking alongside her. Out of all of Mitch’s friends, she got on the most with Adam to the point where Sarah was constantly pestering her over considering a date with him but Y/N didn’t see him as any more than a good friend.  He was quiet and kept to himself for the most part, excelling in the arts and playing bass guitar in a band on weekends. Y/N enjoyed the calmness he brought to the group especially with the others being so loud all the time. 

“What do you think?” Adam asked, holding the strap of his backpack in one hand as it hung over his right shoulder. 

“What do I think about what?” Y/N frowned. 

“You know, Harry being back. I know you two didn’t always get along,” He explained.

Y/N scoffed, “If it weren’t for the fact he’s coaching me for the Academy Slam, I would be praying to whatever God that’d listen to send him back to Australia,” Which was also the furthest possible country he could be away from her. 

Adam chuckled, “He told us earlier he’d be coaching you,” 

Y/N scowled, “I bet he couldn’t get enough of it,” 

“Actually he seemed pretty happy about it. We haven’t seen him that happy since he got back from Australia.”

“Really? Maybe that injury did something to his head,” 

“What makes you hate him so much anyway?” Adam asked. 

Y/N sighed. It was a question she heard often but never had a solid answer for. She couldn't quite explain why she disliked Harry so much. Maybe it was because he had things she wanted, and jealousy often turned into hatred. But there was something more, something she couldn't quite pin down.

Despite her dislike, Y/N went to all of Harry's matches, and she watched them on TV too. Even when she tried to stay in her room, her legs seemed to move on their own, taking her to the courts to watch him play. She hated that part of her rooted for him, and she couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because Harry had been the first person to teach her how to play and she felt some sense of loyalty to that but she had no perfect answer even though she wished for one. 

“His face annoys me,” Y/N says.

“That’s it?” Adam snickers. 

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “We’ve always had this rivalry that stemmed out of nowhere but I can’t even remember how it started.”

“You don’t have feelings for him do you?” The question came out of nowhere and took Y/N completely off-guard. 

"What? No!" Y/N's response came out a little too quickly, and she hoped her cheeks hadn't betrayed her by turning red.

Adam shrugged. "Just making sure," he said casually. "You know, some people get them mixed up—love and hate."

Y/N furrowed her brow, genuinely puzzled. "How is that even possible?"

"Well, they're both intense emotions, aren't they?" He mused. "And sometimes, when you feel strongly about someone, whether it's love or hate, it can blur the lines between the two."

Y/N pondered his words, a sense of unease settling in her stomach, "No way," she replied firmly, shaking her head. "I may not like him, but there's definitely no love there."

Adam chuckled, sensing her defensiveness. "Alright, that’s good," he said with a grin.

Y/N felt a hint of a smile on her lips, “What does that mean? That’s good?”

Adam shrugged, still smiling, “Jus’ saying,” He spoke and Y/N laughed. 

Her gaze flicked from Adam's to Harry, who stood in the hallway with Molly Brown, her brunette waves tied up in the perfect, slicked back ponytail. Hoping to slip by unnoticed, she quickened her pace, but it was too late. Harry's eyes locked onto hers, then shifted to Adam. She caught the subtle twitch of his jaw before he pushed off the wall, ignoring Molly, and strode toward them.

Adam must not have noticed Harry coming towards them because he quickly bid goodbye so he could rush to his literature class. Y/N picked up her pace but Harry was already by her side, “Do you like him?” Harry asked.

“Who Adam? Well let’s see, he’s nice and smart and doesn’t feel the need to open his mouth every five seconds unlike some people I know, so yeah I do like him.” 

Harry scoffed, “He’s a little boring don’t you think?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry's comment, a retort already forming on her lips. "Nice of you to say that about your own best friend," she quipped. "Makes me wonder what you say about me."

Before she could say anything more, she gasped in surprise as Harry tugged on her hand and swiftly spun her around until her back was against the row of lockers. Her heart raced as he stepped forward, blocking her in, and dipped his head closer to hers.

"I think we need some ground rules for this whole coaching thing," Harry murmured, his voice low. "If you're planning on winning, I recommend using your time more wisely instead of wasting it on nice boys."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she processed his words. "Is that a rule or are you asking me not to date anyone?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Both," Harry replied, his tone unwavering.

Her mind raced, unsure how to respond, "What about you then?" she countered.

"Is that a personal request?" Harry's smirk widened, his gaze locking onto hers. "Because I'm the coach, and I set the ground rules so anything you ask me to do is because you want me to do it."

Y/N's heart pounded louder in her ears as Harry's proximity sent heat coursing through her, "It's only fair," she replied, her voice barely audible.

Harry chuckled softly. "Fine, if it makes you happy. But I’m not interested in dating nice girls or boys anyway," he remarked with a smirk.

Y/N swallowed, her curiosity piqued. "What are you interested in?" 

He smirked, "The game," he replied cryptically.

With that, he moved away from her, his eyes lingering on her lips for a moment before he turned and walked down the hallway, “See you tonight, love.” He called back. 

As the sound of his footsteps faded, Y/N stood there, stunned and unable to move. She was grateful that no one had witnessed the exchange as she pulled out her compact, trying to compose herself and hide the flush of embarrassment that coloured her cheeks.

As she hurried to class, already five minutes late, Y/N couldn't shake the intensity of her encounter with Harry. Sitting by the window, her mind wandered as the teacher lectured the class, her gaze drifting to the courts outside where she'd soon be training with him this evening.

This coach-student dynamic had unlocked a new territory between them, something unpredictable that Y/N had no choice but to delve into for the months ahead. 

Yet, it was her only choice. Harry was the only way she could win and she’d push through whatever feelings she had to get what she wanted. 

She’d play the game, just as he wanted her to. 

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your expectations are absolutely shattered when you get to North Island with your class and find out you're going on the field trip of your dreams. Bradley pulled all the stops, and if he wasn't already, he was about to become an absolute legend in your classroom.

Warnings: Fluff, adult banter, Bradley in love, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

You took Bradley's breath away every time he saw you. Even when he was standing tall between Maverick and Cyclone, it made no difference. He was reduced to a lovesick wreck when you walked down the stairs of the school bus with your students in tow.

"Well done," Maverick muttered, and Bradley felt his cheeks grow a little warm. You looked incredible in a pair of jeans and a plain top, but the look was really completed by the lanyard around your neck with the visitor's pass with your name on it. He'd work on getting you a permanent pass so you could stop by whenever you wanted. God, he was a mess every time he thought about the future.

When you smiled directly at him, he knew he'd take the reprimand if it came; you wanted him to kiss you right now, so he was going to. "Welcome to North Island," he told your kids with a grin. Then he looped one arm around your waist, pulled you close, and kissed you in front of everyone. "I can't wait to show you everything."

You made a soft sound when he released you, and your eyes darted from Maverick on his right to Cyclone on his left. "Thank you for having us today," you said a little breathlessly, biting your lip. You were flustered. He made you that way, and he loved hearing it in your voice.

"Fourth graders," Bradley called out. "This is Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson. They both outrank me. By a lot. Let's all give Admiral Simpson our attention."

"Welcome," bellowed Cyclone in his stern voice, and Bradley watched the kids fall in line silently. "This is an active military base. It is important that you remember that fact while you're visiting today." Half of them looked scared while the other half looked excited beyond belief as he said, "The last thing we want is an injury, or worse. Stay with your group. Stay near your teacher. Never go off alone." A very stiff smile appeared on his face as he said, "But have fun."

Bradley cleared his throat. "Thank you, Admiral Simpson," he told the other man, saluting him. Then he addressed you and your class again. "Does anyone have any questions before we get started?"

When Violet's hand shot up into the air, Bradley pointed to her with a smile. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, how many different kinds of jets are we going to see today? And do they all fly at the same speed? And can you help me solve a math problem that I thought of on the bus?"

"Well," Cyclone said, looking pleasantly surprised. "These children sound like aviation experts."

Bradley noticed how your smile grew as he said, "That's because their teacher is incredible." He kept his hands at his side instead of flinging his arm around your shoulders like he wanted to as he nodded toward the hangar. "To answer Violet's question, we will see three different kinds of aircrafts and get to sit in one of them."

"No way!" Oliver said in excitement. "Do we get to sit in your jet?"

Bradley winked and said, "You'll just have to wait and see."

He and Maverick led the group into the busy hangar, the kids trailing along single file as the chaperones brought up the rear. He positioned you in the middle of the group, because nothing was more important today than keeping everyone safe. He pointed out the EA-18 Growler and the E-2 Hawkeye before some Super Hornets came into view.

"Who wants to see Marty work some of his mechanical magic?" Bradley asked as soon as he saw the tarp on the ground where there were engine parts lined up like a surgical procedure was about to take place. Every child's hand shot up into the air, and he chuckled as you and the three chaperones all enthusiastically raised yours as well. "I have some good news. We get to watch while he rebuilds the engine mount and part of the intake manifold on my colleague's jet."

"Phoenix," Jayden read, pointing to the name emblazoned on the side. "That's a cool call sign."

"It's an even cooler pilot," said Natasha as she peeked around the workstation in her flight suit. "You must be the pen pals," she said with a smile. Bradley watched her wave to you, and he'd have to remember to make a comment later about how his best friend finally saw you with pants on.

"It's a woman," Violet said in complete awe. "She's a pilot."

"The best of the best," Nat replied. "You can all call me Lieutenant Trace or Phoenix. Oh! Here's my backseater, Lieutenant Floyd."

When Bob strolled around the workstation and waved to the kids with a smile, he said, "I'm Lieutenant Floyd, but my call sign is Bob."

"He has glasses!" gasped Henry. "Like me!"

Bob gave him a fist bump on his way to the rec room. "I sure do. You can fly with glasses."

"Wow."

Bradley watched all of the kids staring at him, Nat and Bob like they were the absolute coolest adults to ever exist, and maybe they weren't wrong. But they had to know they were in the presence of someone just as fascinating on a daily basis. "You all have your teacher to thank for sparking such an avid interest in aviation in your minds. She probably knows just as much as we do."

Your eyes went wide. "I'm sure I don't," you muttered glaring at him playfully. "Is that Marty? I recognize him from your deployment videos."

When you nodded past Bradley, he turned to see his favorite mechanic stroll back into the hangar with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Hey! It's the fourth graders!" he greeted. "And their teacher who I heard so much about when I was deployed with Lieutenant Bradshaw."

"Did he now?" you asked softly as Bradley gestured for everyone to move in a little closer to Marty's tarp. The mechanic was showing the kids where they could sit on the floor while he grabbed some folding chairs for the chaperones, but Bradley discreetly wrapped his fingers around your hand to keep you next to him.

"Come on, Gorgeous," he whispered, keeping his eyes on Marty as he leaned a little closer to you. "I was smitten with you right away, and I was very lonely. That man heard more than his fair share about my crush on the fourth grade teacher from Mira Mesa Elementary School, that's for certain."

You let your fingers tangle with his as you said, "You're too charming for your own good."

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

Other than Marty talking his way through the repair he was working on, you could have heard a pin drop. Your students were sitting with rapt attention, and so were the chaperones. You were standing a little bit off to the side, trying to hold Bradley's hand without anyone noticing, but you were pretty sure Captain Mitchell was onto you.

"Who wants to feel how heavy the crankshaft is?" Marty asked before he started passing it around to your excited students.

"Mine's heavier," Bradley whispered next to your ear, and you tried to fight the smile that threatened your lips. "But you already know that."

You elbowed him in the side as you watched everyone around you having the time of their life. Marty let everyone try their hand at tightening a bolt to Naval standards, then he laughed and pulled out a hydraulic machine to take care of it. Once the engine components were all in place, he let your kids try to pick it up before he informed them that everything put together weighed over five hundred pounds. He lifted the engine using a huge hook while everyone cheered like he was performing a magic trick, and then he posed for a photo with everyone.

"I can't thank you enough," you told him, shaking his dirty hand after he tried to wipe it on his jumpsuit. "My kids were just as excited to meet you today as they were to see all the jets. You're a bit of a celebrity in my classroom."

The older man blushed and smiled down at the tarp at his feet. "Well, ma'am, that's just the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

You hadn't even mentioned it to Bradley let, but as you released Marty's hand,  you asked, "Is there any chance you would consider visiting my school for career day to give a five to ten minute presentation?"

"Oh," he grunted, his blush deepening. "The stuff I do isn't as interesting as the aviators."

"It is," you insisted. "My kids were hanging on your every word. I could pass the information to you through Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

He kind of shrugged and grinned at you. "I'll think about it."

When you nodded and turned away from him, you found that Bradley had lined your class up again, and then he started leading them to the cafeteria for lunch. "I need you to help me make a definitive ranking of all the menu options," he told them. "This is some very scientific stuff."

"Is there meatloaf?" Nia asked. 

"Every day," Bradley promised. 

"What about the cabbage rolls that you said were yucky?" said Oliver as he bounced along. 

"Only on the aircraft carriers," Bradley informed him. "You all lucked out on that one."

He had each of you scan into the cafeteria with your visitor's badge, and then he nodded toward a long table with RESERVED signs on it. "Is that where we're all sitting?" you asked in surprise.

"Absolutely, Gorgeous. And you better sit by me."

He handed you a tray and pointed you toward the end of the line of officers getting their meals. "It's almost like a date, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

He smirked as he handed trays out to your kids. "They do have some Thai options on the menu. I will warn you and say the pasta is terrible compared to Salvatore's."

You were smiling nonstop as you selected a few different options, including some Thai curry, and made your way to the long table which was now lined with juice boxes and water bottles. Somehow Bradley thought of everything, and if he thought the last blowjob you gave him was a nice thank you, he was definitely in for another one. 

When he slipped into the seat next to yours, he asked, "Do you think everyone is having a good time?"

"This is better than anything I could have imagined," you promised.

Soon your kids were all poking at and sampling the foods on their trays, calling out opinion after opinion as Bradley pulled a small notepad and pencil from his pocket. "Okay, okay. We all hate the baked ziti?" he asked, giving you side eye. "I told you the pasta was terrible." He made a note and said, "But we all like the meatloaf and the breaded chicken?"

"Yes!" shouted Jayden.

"The chicken is so good!" called Violet.

"So is the macaroni and cheese," said Oliver.

Bradley was actually taking real notes which made you want to push him down onto the table and climb on top. 

"It's like you're really in the Navy now. You have opinions on the cafeteria food," he said with a salute. "Ready to earn your wings?"

Eighteen pairs of eyes went wide. "We get wings?" Henry asked Bradley, lunch completely forgotten.

"Only if you're brave enough to sit in the cockpit of my Super Hornet."

The table erupted in cheers.

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

"It's huge," you gasped. "It's so much bigger than I could have ever imagined."

Bradley led everyone outside to the tarmac near the hangar where his F/A-18 was parked with the ladder down. Natasha was sitting in the cockpit with Bradley's helmet in her hand, waving down at everyone.

"Why don't you go first and show everyone how it's done," he said, and you looked up at his smiling face.

"Alright," you agreed, still clearly surprised by the sheer size of the jet.

There was something about seeing a military aircraft in person for the first time that nothing could prepare you for. Some of the kids were looking at it with their mouths hanging open, and Violet looked like she was on the verge of happy tears.

With one hand in the middle of your back, Bradley helped you start to climb the ladder. The fantastic view of your ass was a perk, but he really was trying to make sure you got up safely. When you were standing on the last rung, Nat helped you climb inside, and she plopped his helmet on your head. It was comically large, and you were laughing as you waved down at everyone from the seat.

"This is incredible!" you shouted.

"You just earned yourself some wings," Bradley promised, and you pumped your fist in the air while the kids all cheered. He took his phone out to get a picture of you and Nat up there with his name on the side of the jet, and then it was time for you to climb back down. You probably didn't need the extra help, but his hands ended up on your hips anyway, and you looked back at him over your shoulder once you were on the ground.

"Thank you," came your breathless voice, and he had to remind himself that he was at work and not allowed to push you against the ladder and make out with you like he wanted to.

"Who's next?" he asked, prying his hands away from your body. The chaperones sent Jackie up to the ladder first, and Bradley held her hand until she was securely on the ladder. "Be careful on the rungs. Phoenix still slips on them all the time."

"I do not!" Nat called down from the cockpit. "I never slip on them, ever. But Rooster always does."

"You got me there, Phoenix," he said with a laugh as Jackie scaled her way up to the top. 

Each kid got a turn. Oliver told him that his jet was probably fast enough to feel like you were slam dunking off the back of a dragon after all. And Violet looked at him as she climbed down and said, "I'm really sorry Lieutenant Bradshaw, but Phoenix might be even cooler than you."

He laughed as he said, "You're breaking my heart, kiddo," and she nodded somberly. "That's okay. I'd probably agree with you most days. Go line up with everyone else so you can get your wings."

Maverick and Nat helped you and Bradley pin some replica golden wings on each lanyard, and then Bradley pinned one on yours as you grinned. "What if I want to wear the real thing?" you whispered as the kids all gushed over their little treats.

Bradley glanced down at the insignia pins on his khaki uniform. "You want to wear my shirt around, Gorgeous?"

"Maybe," you told him softly, and he could already picture it.

His nostrils flared, taking in your sweet scent over the jet fuel. "You sleeping over tonight?"

"I don't see how I could possibly stay away after you gave us the perfect day."

He swallowed hard, once again wishing you just lived there with him. Then he wouldn't have to ask or invite or assume. He would just know you'd be with him after work. "Then I'll make sure my shirt is ready for you."

"Rooster."

Bradley released your lanyard and turned toward Maverick. "Sir?" he asked as Mav nodded toward the air traffic control tower.

"They're ready for us."

"Excellent," he replied as Nat folded up the ladder next to him. "We have one more thing for you to learn about. Naval aviation wouldn't be possible without skilled air traffic controllers making sure we have safe flight paths. If you promise to be quiet, we can all climb the tower stairs and listen in."

The kids were bouncing around excitedly again as Bradley and Maverick led the troops across the tarmac with you and Nat bringing up the rear this time. "You look like you're having as much fun as they are," Mav remarked.

"I think I might be," Bradley replied with a chuckle. "Their love of aviation is pretty infectious."

Mav was quiet for a beat before he said, "That's true. But there's something else." He glanced at Bradley over his sunglasses with a very serious look on his face. "You remind me of your dad today."

"I do?"

"Yeah. Absolutely," he promised. "And I think it's because the love of your life back there reminds me a bit of your mom."

Bradley stumbled, his boot skidding along the ground, but he managed to stay upright as Maverick reached for his bicep. "Really?" he asked his dad's best friend, voice hoarse as he thought about how his mom mourned his dad for the rest of her life.

"Yes. Make sure you treat her well."

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

The tower wasn't large, and all of you had to really cram in there. But as soon as your kids saw all of the instrumentation panels and the line of officers in uniforms wearing headsets, they started asking questions.

"Quiet," you reminded them. "We promised we would be very quiet."

Bradley squeezed through the group until he was facing everyone, and he waved so everyone's attention was on him. "We have two pilots who are out over the desert and in position for you to give them some flight commands. Their call signs are Coyote and Hangman, and each of you are about to be tasked with telling them how and where to fly."

You gasped, heart beating a little faster. "Is that safe?" you asked, looking from Bradley to Natasha.

"Well, it's just Coyote and Hangman, so if anything happens, it's not such a big deal," Natasha said, earning a bland look from Bradley while she laughed at her own joke.

"It's perfectly safe," Bradley said, holding up a stack of papers. "I'm going to have everyone read off of one of these sheets." He started handing them out to the kids. "Once Lieutenant Maxwell here gives us the go ahead, she's going to turn on the speakers so we can communicate with Coyote and Hangman without a headset. And that way everyone will be able to hear the transmissions. Sound good?"

It sounded too good to be true to you, but you nodded silently. A minute later, the woman sitting in the chair at the end, removed her headset and flicked some switches. "It's all yours, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Maxwell." He raised his voice a little louder. Coyote. Hangman. Do you copy?"

"We hear you loud and clear, control," came a voice with a southern drawl.

"Copy," came a second man's voice. "Ready at the throttle."

Bradley pointed to the paper in Oliver's hand and nodded. "Go ahead and read it," he whispered.

Oliver cleared his throat and practically shouted, "Hangman, break right. Coyote, breach the hard deck."

"Copy tower," came the immediate response.

"See it on the screens?" Bradley asked, pointing to where there was some sort of radar output of the placement of two aircrafts dipping and diving. "Nia, your turn."

She read, "Hangman, bank down to five o'clock low," and sure enough, one of the jets changed position on the screen. The children were taking this entire mission very seriously, and you were almost shaking with excitement from everything that happened. This was literally the best field trip in the history of field trips. 

Jayden was the last one to go, and after he shouted out the commands, he said, "Hangman is kind of a dumb call sign, isn't it?"

"I resent that!" drawled the first voice.

"I mean, it's just not as cool as Coyote," Jayden told him while Bradley stifled his laughter.

"He's not wrong," came the second voice. "Please tell your teacher you earned a bonus point for being so smart, courtesy of Coyote."

"Copy that!" you said, and Bradley handed the reigns back over to Lieutenant Maxwell. As quietly as could be expected, the group headed back down the stairs and onto the tarmac where apparently there was another surprise. 

Bob was waiting with a crate full of noise canceling headphones. "Hangman and Coyote are on their way to land their jets on the runway!" he said, passing out the headphones to everyone. "With proper ear protection, we can stand here and watch them come in, but we need to keep our ears covered at all times."

The kids were all reaching for a pair, and Bradley walked around to adjust them and make sure they fit nice and snug. When he got to you, he took some extra time, letting his thumb tease your cheek before moving on. Bob stood ahead of everyone with a radio to his ear, then he turned and gave a thumbs up before stepping to the side and securing his own ear protection. 

Off in the distance, you could see two dots rapidly growing in size, and even though you knew what was coming, you still jumped a bit at the noise they made as they screeched through the air and touched down on the runway. You were overwhelmed. Your heart was full. It was hard to believe that your aviation lessons in your classroom led all nineteen of you here.

You'd never be able to top this day for the rest of the school year, and you were okay with that. As long as Bradley would visit you again. And again. And again. If he hadn't already reached legend status, he definitely had after this, and you were certain an hour wouldn't go by for the foreseeable future where the kids weren't asking about him.

"Can I walk you all back to your bus?" he asked after collecting the headphones with Bob.

You let your knuckles bump against his. "Please do, Lieutenant Bradshaw. And on the way there, please tell us how we're your favorite field trip group of all time."

"I can do that with an abundance of detail."

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

Legendary. I want to go on the same field trip a million times with Bradley as my tour guide. I've started to think about what I'm going to include in the rest of this fic, so let me know if there's something you're dying to read about these two! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 17

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@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@marve2014

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

[milkoomi]

overcoming the spring semester slump. ᥫ᭡

i’m sure a lot of us students are at that point in the spring semester where the level of our motivation is going down, our minds are quick to think “if i skip this assignment, i’ll still have a passing grade”, and our anxiety over final assessments/exams/projects/grades is increasing as each day passes. so let’s take a moment to pause, take a breather, and remind & reassure ourselves that everything is going to be okay. the spring semester slump is very real, but it’s something that you can overcome! so grab my hand because i’m going to guide you through this!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — loss of motivation

losing that spark you had at the start of the semester/school year can feel so devastating. it’s frustrating to see the changes in your level of energy and it creates this sense of disappointment. but you have to remember: this is completely normal.

there’s so many other students out there who are experiencing the same drop in motivation and energy, so step one is reminding yourself that you aren’t alone in this feeling! yes, it’s extremely disheartening to see yourself slip away from that academic weapon status, but you aren’t the only one going through something like this!

“how do i get my motivation back?”

ask yourself this: if you’ve already gotten this far into the school year, why would you want yourself to let go of all your hard work?

you’ve come so far! and, up until this point, you have been exceeding your own expectations! up until this point, you’ve put in so many hours into your school work and studies! why let all that time and effort go to waste?

here are some things that keep me motivated:

proving to everyone who doubted me that they were all wrong

making my loved ones and myself proud

knowing that i’m another step closer to working in my dream career field

maintaining my 4.0 gpa

make a list of your goals! this will help you visualize and give you a reminder of what all your work is going towards. i know you want to achieve your goals, i know you want to be a better version of yourself, i know you want to climb up to the top when it comes to your academics— let your goals be your fuel.

sometimes, all we need is a reminder of why were doing all this. we need to see or hear what the ultimate end goal is, so be that person to do that for yourself! tell yourself that all this hard work is going towards your bigger picture!

୨ৎ — negative mindset changes

you and i both know you’ve stared at an assignment and spent a good chunk of time debating on actually doing it because “you’ll still have a passing grade if you don’t”. trust me, i’ve done it. again, you aren’t alone in having those kinds of thoughts! i get it, we all have calculated the lowest score we could possibly get to still have a passing grade in a class. i actually did that on a recent exam i took that i also procrastinated til the day of to study for.

it’s okay to have these thoughts pass through in your mind, but what isn’t okay is actually putting those thoughts into action. don’t let that unmotivated voice in your head take control of your academics!

“but how do i stop myself from thinking this way?”

i want you to take a look at all the past assignments you’ve completed and all the quiz/exam grades you’ve received throughout the school year and/or semester. notice how you submitted every single assignment? notice how all your studying got you the grades you wanted? you managed to do all of that, so why let those passing thoughts take over? you have shown yourself, and even your teachers/professors/instructors, that you are more than capable of getting things done. why let yourself slip?

if you’ve spent the entire semester turning in assignments on time and getting above average grades on all the exams, are you really going to show your professors— the people who have been watching you excel all semester— that you’re letting your academics go?

and you’ll never know, but skipping that one assignment could potentially break your grade. complete it. do it. turn it in. it could help cushion your grade or even bring it back up!

୨ৎ — finals anxiety

finals week is slowly, but surely, making it’s way back into our lives once again. that week and the weeks following up to it are the perfect breeding grounds for anxiety to fully settle in. and i get it! it’s not a fun feeling. you’re overwhelmed, you’re feeling overworked, you’re feeling burnt out, and your anxiety is just seeming to take over the more and more you think about it.

gonna say it one more time: it’s 100% okay to feel this way! finals week anxiety and stress is normal. it’s an important week to focus on seeing as final exams make up such a big portion of your grade. your anxiety and stress about it is completely valid!

“how can i overcome this anxiety?”

i created this post on preparing for finals week, so i highly recommend taking a look at that since i go into greater detail on how to prepare as well as offer some helpful tips!

ways i manage my academic anxiety & stress:

creating to-do lists & planning out my week

pomodoro & eat-the-frog method for time management

journaling — emotion/thought dumping

setting aside time to do something that makes me happy and/or is relaxing

reaching out to my support system

getting 8 hours of sleep every night

forming study groups with my classmates

it’s important that you’re giving yourself breaks. i always say this, but i really am a huge advocate for making sure you still have time to do something for yourself that isn’t related to school.

allow yourself to breathe; give yourself time to relax your mind. if there’s anything to take away from this section, it’s always making sure you set aside personal time for yourself. whether it’s going for a walk, playing with your pets, chatting with a friend, playing a video game, doing your makeup just for fun, or even taking a nap, just make sure you always make time to do something for yourself!

a lot of the academic anxiety and stress can stem from not making enough time for yourself to relax. i’m sure you were locked in all semester and i’m sure you put in hours upon hours into your studies, but give yourself a break! go do something fun! don’t let your entire life be consumed by your academics!

i know i said in the previous section to get your shit done, and while i still stand by that, i will always climb to the mountain tops and scream that you need to make time for breaks, self care, and yourself. don’t overwork yourself! you might feel the need to just keep going and going, but you’re allowed to slow down; you need to slow down. putting majority, or even all of your time into your studies can only make your anxiety and stress worse.

final notes —

the biggest take away from this post should be this: you’re not alone in this feeling, and getting yourself back up now will have your future self thanking you forever! this slump is something so many students go through, but you have to remind yourself that all your hard work now will truly reward you later down the road.

you’ve gotten yourself this far! keep going! your future self is going to be so grateful that you kept moving forward!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[en-lov3r]

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫! | 𝐩.𝐬.𝐡

Pairing— teacher!sunghoon x fem student!reader Sypnosis: Your handsome teacher, Mr. Park, is very disappointed in the truancies and tardies you developed over the past year, especially for his class. He gives you detentions every so often, thinking you would learn your lesson. Then one day, he complained and just had enough, all until you can't make him take your eyes off of you. Genre: Angst, Smut, forbidden love/romance, teacher x student, age gap (Sunghoon in mid 20s, while reader is barely 18) Warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, throat fucking, overstimulation, orgasms, creampie, huge cock warning, oral, classroom sex, cheating, infidelity, adultery absent parents, phone sex, dick riding, verbal sex, not proofread, teasing Word Count: 3,294 words Note: Thank you so much for 200 followers! Like and repost if you enjoyed this.

It was a dark cloudy morning.

The day was yet to come. You started getting ready for school, dreading every moment. You were a failing student, barely passing any of your classes. You knew that your teachers won't even care to help, they tried to, effortlessly until they stopped putting in the effort. You sighed as you changed your clothes and unhastily took the bus to school. When you went out of the bus, you started to walk slow, not even caring about showing up for your first period, being history, you did show up on your seat, arriving late.

"Y/N. If you show up late or be absent once more, the school's going to take action against your parents, do you understand?"

Your eyes were fixated on the floor until you heard footsteps approaching, now black sleek shoes and pants appearing within your field of vision. You slowly turned up to gaze upon Mr. Park. His eyes looked a bit stern, as if he was going to each you alive. As much as all the students having a crush on him, it's surprising someone as stoic as him interacted with you more than anyone else at the school, well made sense considering your chronically almost present at his class.

"Call my parents. They're not even at the house anyway." You said

You rolled your eyes. You didn't care about him at all. All you cared about was going home. Your parents went off to vacation and they always send the money to take care of the bills and to pay for groceries. It was nice having to have time with only just yourself leisurely. Mr. Park then lowered his head and stared directly at you. You met eye contact, his expression looked a bit irritated, as if he wanted to slap at you.

"Your getting detention. again, after school." He replied

He then strutted as he calmly sat down on his chair.

Mr. Park always picked on you the most. A mad expression doesn't suit his handsome face at all. The rest of the students in the class quietly gossiped in loud chattering about you, as they turned their back once they saw the teacher sat down. You knew that it was only you that would make him feel like this. If only he wouldn't complain, then maybe, just maybe you would've enjoyed the sight of seeing him, just like the rest of the other students that have him as a teacher. You then continued with the rest of your classes, until the school day ended.

But it wasn't over for you just yet. You entered his class as you tried to avoid his gaze upon you, with such hard intent you felt like he was shooting knifes to you when he wasn't. When you sat down, Mr. Park started coming towards you, until he stopped.

"Y/N." He forcefully said, slapping a paper with his hand onto your desk, "do you know how many times you were absent or late?" he says with a stern look.

Shocked by his approach, you averted your eyes as you slowly saw your attendance on the paper he showed. You didn't know what to feel, guilty?

"And?" You responded back

He looked to be disgusted. Part of his eyes twitched while he bit his lips in fustration.

You stare up at his face blankly, not moved by his sudden outburst. This was almost a normal routine by now. But you were only like this with Mr. Park. The way he stared at you during lessons, or the numerous amount of times he caught your eye while staring, and looked away. Did he have a problem with you? Maybe he liked you. It was the only thing that made sense. He picked on you often, gave you deadly smirks that made your legs weak and your heart race, but you forced yourself not to fall for him. He was your teacher after all.

"Sorry" you muttered. He deeply sighed as he leaned his head back and combed his hair, taking his glasses off. He propped himself on the desk, giving you fustrated glances. You knew he was disappointed, but he did look hot stroking his hair as he took a a deep breath and exhaled deeply. You then noticed a wedding ring on his finger, you forgot that he had a wife and children. You never paid much attention to his class so you never bothered to know much about him. You saw a photo with his loving wife and children, he looked to be smiling in the photo, his face brightening with his cheeky fangs.

"You know, I could've been at home with my family, but I yet have to discuss this problem with you, why are..."

You didn't pay attention to a word he's saying. He's repeatedly talking as his words went to one side of your ear, and quickly out the other, not processing the information he had said. Maybe you could test this theory. Maybe if you teased him enough, he would break, it would be fun to try it out anyway, the room was kind of stuffy to begin with in the first place.

Slowly, you brought your hand up your chest, carefully undoing the first button of your blouse. You never really showed cleavage at all, so that should get his attention. Just when you expected him to look at you, he did, as his eyes went directly straight to your chest. His eyes looked wide open, in awe, as his mouth was open in shock, not knowing what to do.

"Y/N, what are you doing? Please stop tha-"

You then continued. He started to now swallow, sweat a bit, allowing you to see his Adam's apple bob and clear his throat, trying to divert his eyes to your face, but he can't help looking at your now almost exposed chest, devouring you with his eyes as he was asking to show more.

As his eyes were still on you, you undid the next button, cleavage almost popping out of your blouse through the thin cloth, your nipples perking through the fabric, showing erotically from the outside. Mr. Park started to drool and salivate a bit, he wished he could tear that blouse right off you and fuck you senseless on his desk. He realized the problem in his pants was starting to get worse and as you walked over to his desk, he was trying to hide his boner. You almost let out a giggle, stopping yourself before he spoke.

He cleared his throat once again, "You can't be doing this."

"So what?" You said with pleading eyes

"I have a wife and kids, no no, I can't be doing this."

You were right in front of him, his hot slickback hair, his bushy eyebrows, his light pink tinted lips, as his body was beginning to tighten out of the dark black fabric, his thighs so big it can squish your head, his bulge began to grow, his crotch almost suffocated, as his long stallion legs almost reached the floor.

Just when he was about to get up, you instantly stopped him with your hands, smirking. He looked back all flustered. You knew what you were doing.

"We can't be doing this, I'm a teacher with a family, and your just a student."

You took the wedding ring off of his ring finger, his veins showing through his big hand, as you plopped the photo frame of his family flipped down.

"C'mon, right now, now you're just a teacher, nothing else." You stared at him so seductively

Mr. Park pushed you, as he went to the classroom door, and locked it. You couldn't believe it, you finally won over him. You smiled back at him.

He now let his thoughts go wild as he locked the classroom door and gave into his own pleasure and yours. He kept moaning your name and thinking about you naked as he sprawled onto you on his desk.

"Ha..." He started to fling all his stuff on his desk to the ground, panting that he has you.

"Something changed your mind, Mr. Park?" You smirked

"You know, if you keep tempting me like this, I might just have to-"

phone ringing

You stared at him, anticipating whether he would pick up the phone right now. He did. He sat down on his chair, but as soon as he did, you went under his desk, your hands on his thigh, unbuckling his belt.

"Hey."

He pays you no mind, leaning back in his chair, sighing, his cold hands touching your soft barren face.

"I'm not sure what time I'll be back baby."

You picked up the idea he was calling his wife, a female voice started speaking at him, so soft.

Suddenly, you took off your pants, he saw. You were now almost fully naked. You grew wetter as you continued, your legs shaking with anticipation of what you thought Jungkook has in store in his crotch. You spreaded your legs as you started to unbuckled his belt and undo his pants, already feeling his horse cock hardening.

"Yes honey. Don't worry, I just have some thin- ngs!"

He had to hold the phone away from his face so his wife doesn't hear him attempt to compose himself by taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"Mhm y- yeah, damn baby, can't wait to get home." He let his head fall back, as you pull his cock out, wrapping the shaft of the head around it, stroking it a few times. His jaw began to drop, as you swipe your thumb over the tip, spreading some precum around, teasing him by running your tongue along the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around the tip.

He clears his throat a few times, asking his wife a question and then later responding back. "Yeah, fine." He said so deep, trying to calm himself down as he can feel your juicy lips sucking his cock away, smiling into a struggle.

You kept sucking on it so hard. Moving your head up and down as you can hear him slightly moaning. "Fuck yes." He mouthed. As he began to ram your mouth with his cock, the crotch of his pants already staining with your saliva as you began enjoying the moment, the smell of his cock lifting your nose, sending you into a chokehold as you deepthroat his cock until it reached back. His eyes rolling back.

"Mmm yeah, tell the kids I said hi."

He had to hold the phone away from him again when you started bobbing your head, his own fleshlight doing it all for him. Suddenly, you felt him push your head down the length, making you gag even more.

"Take that cock deep into your mouth. F-fuck! Your mouth so good."

You faintly heard his wife, while sucking on her husband's cock. "What was that?"

"You didn't hear anything, don't worry that was the sound from outside, probably a water error in the pipes they're fixing." He was such a liar. You knew it. He started feeling it, his face scrunching up when he takes his hand off your head, coming up for air and letting his cock fall from your mouth. "Your mouth so good~" He mouthed. You knew his wife was getting a bit suspicious, asking him where these glug sounds coming from, he smirked as he wiped your mouth with the back of his hand. "No worries, that was just the outside." He then mouthed to get on top of him. You did. as you pulled his pants down the ground, then his boxers, his dick still out, just to reveal his hairy-ish legs, it was so fucking hot appearing from up down that you slowly climbed yourself on top of his lap. He then tilted his head as he put the phone on his shoulder, still talking to his wife.

"Yeah, I'm just watching over the student right now. Y/N is doing perfectly fine right now, more than what I can ever ask for." With a little grin over his face as he began to lick his lips. "You sucked me so good, fuck." His eyes started to struggle focusing between you and his phone. His hands started caressing your neck, tracing your jaw as he kissed you full ham. His heated kisses, his hands trailing over your body, as he began leaving love bites on your neck, chest, feeling his hot sloppy wet kisses all over your body, you began to kiss him back. Wanting more as you began gasping for air, but he leaned in once more, a string of saliva connection each other's lips.

"Kiss me again, -mphh"

Thud.

His phone went down the floor. Mr. Park didn't notice at all but you did. You knew his wife was waiting for him to respond. But all you did was kiss him once more, cupping his cheeks as you stared into his eyes with a grin, his hands curling around your neck.

"h-hello? "

His wife's voice was so faint. Mr. Park was in real heat, his eyes dilating when he first started kissing you, the room so stuffy your guy's bodies began to heat rapidly, sweating with as your hands buried in his hair,, pulling him to your face kissing him more frantically until his mouth went to your chest and started to kiss your nipples, sucking on them as if milk was going to come out.

"Am I better than your wife?" You said so naughtily

"You are, I can't wait for this mature cock to ram your young pussy." He growled

He soon started to assert his dominance. Your hole started to twitch. You were so horny. And he was too.

"I wasn't able to have sex for 2 weeks. All I ever did was masturbate" He said so haughtily

He began venting to you, his kids, his wife. Running away from his problems. You enjoyed this time with him.

"I need your hole right now baby." He ordered while looking straight dead into your eyes.

"As you wish teacher. Anything for you." You replied back

You slowly sat down on his hardened cock. But before you were, he jammed in two fingers inside you, playing with your insides as if you were a toy.

"You like that? You slut!" He grunted

You couldn't help it as he kept dipping his two fingers between your folds and in and out, teasing your entrance, so wet his fingers were drenched.

"This just from sucking my cock?"

"Yes," you breathily answer, saliva spilling out your mouth, drenched onto the floor

"Such a a good girl~"

You moaned softly, as he tuts at you. "Be quiet for me baby, we can't having the whole school knowing what we're doing here, so shush~"

"Yes Mr. Park."

You obeyed him and you began to be more quiet.

"Good." He replied throgh gritted teeth.

As he kept toying your insides more and more, you couldn't bear it. You let a hiss of pleasure grinding on his cock, until his dick pushed through your pussy walls and fuck you deep into the core. Mr. park groaned as he entered you.

"Oh fuck baby, your so fucking good, you deserve an A+ for this class."

"God, your dick feels so good inside of me." You moaned

"You've been waiting for this all along huh?"

"Yeah, all these other students can't compare for what I'm doing for you, right?"

"Yeah." He took a breath and grinned

"Sliding into your wet pussy feels so amazing. Keep bouncing, y-yeah~... just like that..."

The way he talked turned you on even more,, moving your hips in slow circles as you whimpered a bit at the touch of his hands grinding through your body from your back. His moaning and groaning made your clit throb.

"You fuck better than my wife, your so fucking good at this."

All of a sudden. He carried you and pushed you against the classroom board, your hands now on the wall as your facing it, and his tall lean figure towering over you, his manly build and husky voice now whispering into your ears.

"Fuck!~ I've got myself a student that can take care of my needs now ha..." He smiled as he kept hitting so aggressively from the back, repeatedly thrusting his cock inside you. He matched the rhythm with you and fucked you even deeper. His moans and groans getting louder, as well as yours as your pussy walls began to contract from his dick.

"Feels so good." You mewled onto his back as he grabbed you from the neck and turned your head a bit to kiss you right on the lips, his tongue entering your mouth, swirling inside as you intertwined your tongue with his, swapping saliva from this hot makeout session.

Your breathing went faster as your hips began rocking back and forth even more. His hands romaed your body from your hips and groping your chest. He continued to do so as he put his hands on your hips and made you ride him faster.

"Oh yeah? You like that? You slut! I never could've guessed you would satisfy me, ha..."

"Fuck me harder, more better than your wife."

"Oh yeah? You do fuck better than my wife. You want me to put a baby inside you?" As he whispered into your ear, now starting to lick it, shivers going down your spine in pleasure.

"I want you to cum inside me, take me to the edge Mr. Park, make your cock cum for me!"

"Right there, right there!" He clawed his hands on your breasts, groping them with his fingernails as you feel yourself getting to the edge faster.

He then stopped, as you thrusted even more harder before you realized. You glared back at him.

"Ride my dick, baby. Make yourself cum with this hard hung cock of mine."

You complied as you slid his dick into your juicy lips of your pusssy as you bounced faster, reaching thee climax even faster than you already had in your previous times of masturbating. His hips continued to meet yours.

It was until you couldn't move. Your legs started to shake, convulsing from each passing second, all tensed up, ready to orgasm.

"That's it. Y/N, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" He proclaimed

"Don't stop. Please don't s-stopp!" You then started to jolt from your intense orgasm, fluids mixing with his thick load of cum as he pulled you to the side as you two sighed, mixture of cum dripping down your thighs and from his crotch too. The phone began to murmur loudly, until it ended.

Beep!~

"Oh shoot. My wife is going to be mad at me!" He voiced out, still exhausted from fucking

"It's okay, my parents are gone, you can just be at my house." I said smiling

"H- ha.." He pulled you in with your waist as he looked down to kiss you once more, so heavily he wouldn't budge, but you didn't resist.

"Want to fuck at my house?"

His cock started to become rock hard once more.

"I take that as a yes." Glancing at his cock.

"F-fuck. You made me like this now." He declared

The moonlight was hitting at the windows, you guys began to look outside.

Mr. Park looked at you, "How about round two while we're at it?"

His hard cock began throbbing so hard.

"You'll be receiving a lot more detentions now." He affirmed with a smirk

"Just what I need~ it'll be more fun now." I giggled

"You will never be absent or late from my class once more." As he jerked his dick off in front of you. Having your hand touch it.

You guys then began to hit it off for the night. Mr. Park's wife calling the phone repeatedly as you guys kept fucking until the next school day.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gitae Kim for the first time

G/N. Pre Mexico. Pre silly lil murders :))) Masterlists

Whispers and rumours swirl. Passes from student to student, teacher to teacher. There's something wrong with him.

"Him there. In that class. With the dark circles and heavy lids, he's weird. His father's a gangster."

"What? Really!"

"Yeah. Don't talk to him, he's trouble."

Is he? You wonder. As you watch him, a tall lanky figure already heads and shoulders above the rest of the student body, you can't help but think he's like you.

Adrift. Waiting for something better or waiting out the years until you can leave this lonely wretched place.

Both outsiders, not quite fitting in.

.

.

You start to observe him.

At first just quickly peering at him when he's around, then naturally over time, growing bold and searching for his presence, watching him when you think he's not looking.

The boy, with strong features and haunted eyes, has no friends and doesn't talk much.

His gaze is constantly far away, like he's spiritually and mentally not here. Appearing deep in thought.

Scheming, you've heard others say. Plotting.

Maybe. Not many people talk to you either though the gossip is kinder.

Head in the clouds. Daydreamer.

You're strange, they also say, their tone never tinged with fear. Something akin to pity can be picked through their words.

.

.

"What do you want?"

You had averted your eyes fast but not fast enough.

The tall boy says it like he knows you've been watching him. That your wandering glances at lunch isn't a one-off.

"Nothing." You respond, voice coming out croaky and startled.

He arches a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes, the first time you've seen anything more than apathy on his face.

You hold his gaze and to your surprise, he's the one that breaks it first and strides off.

.

.

"Hi."

His eyes flicker towards you.

"Hey." You repeat, swallowing down your apprehension and drumming up all the courage you can muster to ask, "Is this seat taken?"

Time stretches for what feels like an eternity. He doesn't react to your question though the only way you know you have said it aloud is from the way he watches you.

Like a predator, sizing you up, working you out.

You realise, with great embarrassment, you might have mistaken his words the other day for an understanding between you.

Just as you're about to give up, accept the rejection and disappointment and leave him alone, he finds what he's looking for and finally tells you. "No."

It takes you a moment to remember your original question and you release the breath you didn't know you were holding.

In hindsight, you wished you didn't sit with him.

He offers no other conversation and your self consciousness spikes when he watches you as you pick through your lunch.

.

.

The whispers and rumours change once other people notice the odd company you keep.

You can't bring yourself to mind.

He's quiet, eyes unnerving but you feel like you've found a kindred spirit.

.

.

A cigarette, held between his fingers, is offered to your lips.

You had stumbled upon him during a free period at the back of the school. Past the field and among the weeds and rubble where no-one, not even the cool kids, go.

You lean forward to grasp it in your mouth, the interaction peculiar and intimate. The cigarette itself feels unfamiliar and foreign, you didn't want to tell him that you don't smoke.

A small flame clicks into life from his lighter and he holds it to your tip. Eyes never moving off yours as the ember starts to burn.

You take your first inhale, feel the poison in your mouth and on your tongue, travelling down the back of your throat and-

"Shit-" you sputter and hack your lungs up. You cough and cough, eyes watering, cheeks turning red.

He laughs, low and rumbling, as he thumps you lightly on your back.

As your breath returns, he asks, "What's your name?"

You tell him and he trades his in return.

"Gitae," he says, plucking the cigarette from your hand and taking a drag.

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Gojo and Geto with bad bitch Chubby Reader

Guys, I tried to avoid being a Gojo stan...I tried so hard to hate him...but the pull was too strong. He got my ass. He's too silly. He's too cute the little shit. He's too perfect. Geto's great too before he lost his shit and went psycho the two are just too great to pass up.

2024 WILL BE THE YEAR THAT I GET YOU BITCHES TO PREACH STRONG, CONFIDENT, INDEPENDENT but not too independent bc these men are still yummy af CHUBBY READER! No longer will I be insecure about my weight because these men LOVE to see me coming AND going, I can tell you that.

WARNING: Fatphobia (happens when first meeting Gojo & Geto—they’re teens trying to bully Reader, but she handles herself because they’re idiots), A little angst with the small amount of bullying but I hope I made up for it, Cursing

✧༺♥༻✧

Imagine you, Gojo, Geto, and Shoko being classmates and friends during their schooling at Jujutsu High. All of you are powerful threats not to be taken lightly. The boys were undoubtedly freaks of nature with how strong they were—though, you had doubled over laughing alongside Shoko a couple of times when you heard them deem themselves "the strongest duo", as if they were some cool loner wolf types. Shoko was a master in the medicinal field; she made any injury look like a breeze to clean. She'd stitch them up no problem with her cursed energy and send them merrily on their way with a swift kick to their backside.

You definitely have more proficiency with cursed energy usage for combat more so than healing, but you could manage healing yourself just fine. You’d been born into a clan, not as highly revered as the Zenin or Gojo clans but still notable, so you’ve been taught from an early age how to wield cursed energy. Sacrificing yourself for the greater good of the world has been drilled into your head since birth, and you agreed with it. The world’s innocence needs to be protected from the cursed dangers life creates. Sure, there are bad people in the world, but the good people make life worth living. At least, that’s what you choose to believe.

While you’re just a normal—aside from the slight infinite power and jaw-dropping strength—girl, you are different in one more physical way. You’re chubbier than most, and not by a small bit.

Are you insecure about it?

Hell fucking no!

You’re a bad bitch. Fantastic face, banging body, stunning smile, bright eyes, a kind but strong heart, and even a cute butt to top it off. You knew this world inside out with how cruel it could be to plus sized folk, and while you took the beating for far too long without fighting back, you took a couple of steps back a few years ago to look at the situation. Why let people push you around like you didn’t matter? Why let them speak to you like you’re lesser than them simply because you weigh more? You were done being talked to like you were filth underneath their boots.

Since that new perspective, you’ve chosen the road of self love and hands rated E for everyone. You’re kind and sweet to those who reciprocate the respect. To those who try you, you beat their asses with a smile. “Education on Human Decency” is what you’ve begun to call the smackdowns since many want to try casting judgment in snide remarks or sneering looks. They can try these hands instead :)

That’s where Jujutsu High and the headaches you know as Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru fit into this philosophy of yours.

You were homeschooled by your clan in the first year of your sorcery high school. Though, after much begging for a change of scenery and yearning for social interactions other than your family and neighbors, they allowed you to go to a high school centered on jujutsu sorcery the next school year.

When you started Jujutsu High in your second year, that is where you met Shoko, Gojo, and Geto, your classmates. The first thought to cross your mind was how small this crowd was. Sure, it wasn’t like the classes you’ve had before had many students in them either; the world of curses and cursed energy wasn’t exactly a booming population to start with, especially when every year is the same class roster composed of the few brothers and sisters you had. Considering that, three new faces was much better than before! You introduced yourself with a joyful tone and an eager handshake.

You started with Shoko since she was the only other girl. You’re glad you did. Shoko, who you originally thought would be tricky to get along with since she gave off “rebel” vibes with that unlit cigarette dangling from her lips and you were nothing of the sort, held a grin and took your handshake with grace. She told you she liked your spunk, that it was nice to be around another girl rather than more stinking boys. You agreed with her with a relieved sigh. You two shared a laugh and chatted some more, each of you discussing your thoughts of the school and figuring out your mutual interests.

Soon enough, you were interrupted by someone giving a very noticeable and forced cough behind you. You turned and were met with two boys, one with jet black hair and a sly grin and the other one with silvery moonlight colored strands sharing the same expression hidden behind circular sunglasses. The white haired boy was leaning heavily on the black haired boy with one arm propped on his shoulder as the black-haired boy crossed his arms in front of himself. Seems like the two are close. No matter.

You stuck your hand out, another smile—admittedly, this one was a little more forced than the one you shared with Shoko—and gave your name. Suguru was the first to bite. He grabbed your hand with a smooth, warm grip, and exchanged his name. His shake felt sincere, though the cunning smirk still laid on his lips.

You tried to shake the other boy’s hand after letting Suguru go, but he decided otherwise. He swiftly with no mercy said he wasn’t going to shake hands with the likes of “you”. You raised an eyebrow, already sensing the insult he would try to hurl at you. One thing bullies are is predictable. None of them have any creative bone in their body, they’re like leeches, in a way. Mooching off other clever remarks they’ve heard used before through the Internet or their idiot friends. Though, they alway reproduce it much shitter than the first time they heard it.

He leaned in with a smile and yapped about how if he touches you, some of your fat might rub off on him. Gojo tries to drag Geto into bullying you too by shamelessly asking if Geto is worried that will happen to him now that he’s so brazenly touched you. As much as you wanted Suguru to be his own person, to be better than the loser clinging to him like a koala, he chimed in that while Gojo’s afraid of that, that that could never happen to him. He sneered while looking down at you that he actually has the discipline to keep the weight off. The two of them share an evil snicker together.

Oh, so that’s how they wanna play it.

Okay. You don’t mind showing a bitch their place.

As Shoko pipes up and tells them to shut the hell up, you stop her. You give her a kind smile that says “I love you, but please back the fuck up as I rock these bitches world”. Her eyebrows jump up in surprise, but she gives you a nod. She quiets down.

You choose to laugh with them. They slowly shut their mouths, finding laughing at you not that funny when you don’t crumple under their taunts like they’d expected. You then explain to them that what you find so funny is that punks like them are so easy to read and, subsequently, ruin. You told them they need to find better insults to steal if they wanna cackle like they’re some kind of drunk hyenas and, unless they get more creative, they’re not worth the air they take from others. You turned to walk away, but since you just couldn’t help yourself, you gave the both of them a swift kick to the chest. Unprepared for the action, they both were sent careening back, but remained standing. You also snarkily nagged that being “undisciplined in weight loss” gave you the extra weight to knock their scrawny asses back that far.

Shoko gave you a hearty high five while laughing at them getting what they deserve. Gojo, though baffled at your defiance, is ready to start throwing punches, as he spews half-assed insults left and right. Geto manages to keep his thoughts to himself, but you do note his expression has definitely become sour. This little scrap is swiftly interrupted by your new teacher, Masamichi Yaga, when he enters and orders the class to settle down. He also snuffs Gojo’s babbling tantrum with a merciless smack to his forehead.

You give a small grin stuck your tongue out at the two when Mr. Masamichi turned his back. From then on, it was war.

You, Geto, and Gojo fought constantly in the beginning

When they (mostly Gojo now) tried to stir shit with you, you’d fling their rudeness right back at them

Whether they tried to pick on your weight, or cheery personality, or strength (which they couldn’t make too much fun off since you were only a little less strong than they were, but so was everyone else compared to their insane powers), you were always ready to kick their asses

You didn’t resent them for their teasing, mostly since you had a good head on your shoulders and you know that Gojo’s only deflecting all the shit he hates about himself onto other people, but they sure got on your nerves sometimes

So, you decided soon into your acquaintance with these dopes that instead of simply beating their asses every time they said some wack shit and never correcting the behavior, you’re going put an end to their bullying of based on others appearances

Because, who knows. You have enough self love and confidence to defend yourself against their rude remarks, but not everyone does. What happens if they target other plus sized people who maybe can’t or won’t defend themselves?

So, when they’d try to make fun of you, you’d correct them with sincerity and help them understand why that would hurt to someone

Geto pretty much never made a passing comment like that again towards you. You’re happy to see that change in him

Gojo huffed and puffed after what he called “your lecture”, but you also saw change in him

After that, it was slow progress to all be friends

Shoko and you were doing great! Hanging out outside of school, dragging her along with you to do some window shopping, eating a sit down lunch together, going to the nearest bookstore, grabbing a yummy sweet treat, stargazing—you did it all together!

She always made a fuss that she had “no interest” in what you would force her to do, but you could secretly tell she liked doing girly stuff together. As long as she could have a smoke break in between these hang outs, she was all good

The first time you, Geto, and Gojo made a recovery in your rocky relationship was when they asked if they could come along with the two of you to get a treat together

You were a bit hesitant to share the thing that brings you joy with the two people who tried to make you the butt of the joke, but you threw them bone and agreed

You four walked down the sidewalk, mostly you chit chatting with Shoko, when Gojo butted his way into the conversation at your mention of Kikufuku.

You and him bonded over your mutual love of the delicate, bouncy sweet treat and you watched as his eyes sparkled like a little kid when you said the place you were going to had an excellent Kikufuku

You know, when Gojo isn’t being a menace, he’s actually nice to share a conversation with

Geto teased Gojo for his astounding sweet tooth, and explained to you an embarrassing story of Gojo losing his mind one time when a dog stole one of his dorayaki treats and ran off

You laughed as Gojo tried to hit Geto as payback for sharing the “secret” but Geto fended off his flailing

Maybe I'll come back to this idea one day when I'm not hung up on the bullying. If you guys like this idea, I might continue it with less bullying. I am a baby when it comes to angst lol. I really do love these boys, I just don't think my heart is ready for the subject matter I wrote.

✧༺♥༻✧

[circeyoru]

Foreign Reality

[Sung Jinwoo x Memory intact!Reader - Academy Arc]

As weird as it sounds, you recall a world that was the same as this one but different. There were things known as ‘Gates’ and inside them are ‘Dungeons’ filled with all types of beasts and monsters that bring mankind harm. To counter that, there are awakened individuals known as ‘Hunters’ that would go into these Dungeons to defeat the boss and prevent an outbreak. That was the gist of it.

Now there was nothing. When you told your parents about it, they told you that you were dreaming too hard and that you needed to wake up. 

So how could you not feel the chill when the newly transferred student entered the classroom? Somehow you were able to recognize him. In your dream, he was the strongest Hunter, from the bottom to the top, he was famed for his strength and will to protect. Yet most remember him as the one-man army because of his ability to command shadow beasts and monsters. 

While the class teacher gave the former strongest Hunter the time to introduce himself, you already recalled his name like an echo to his introduction. “Sung Jinwoo.”

Over the next few days, Jinwoo was the topic of discussion for many people, both students and teachers. The girls were fonding over his coolness and smart nature, as he was top of his class like you were though you relied on your former knowledge and mentality. The boys were envious of the attention he was getting and his seemingly handsome appearance. The teachers praised him for his academic results and athletic talent. There seemed to be no flaws or faults with him.

Well, almost. It seemed like he was a bit on the dense and serious side. 

You recall the first day when a group of boys taunted him for wearing a single black glove over his hand, only to end up backing down when Jinwoo showed them a nasty scar. At the time, you were just passing by to leave the classroom, but you swore that scar couldn’t be made by normal means. Then again, you never knew what Jinwoo went through in his upbringing, so you kept it to yourself.

Then there were the constant confessions. You lost count of the library or rooftop confessions that you happened to stumble upon during your breaks. The library and rooftop were your go-to places to relax, yet somehow, Jinwoo’s love confessions were always there and sometimes in the hallways. You’d always see girls crying their hearts out and running away, when you looked over, Jinwoo smiled and waved at you. 

Though you nodded your head with a neutral expression before you left. You really wanted to give him a piece of your mind, by then you were sure he rejected and made a bunch of girls cry. If he weren’t the former strongest Hunter and praised and admired by you, you would have given Jinwoo the cold shoulders. You wondered if he had always been like this even before the timeline repeated itself.

But there were times when you wondered if he knew that time repeated like you did. You hoped that there was someone you could connect with. There was so many times that you felt so foreign in your place. Like everything was a lie. Maybe it was because you were used to the you and world in that former timeline, maybe it was because everything felt so real there and to be denied that reality was breaking to you.

So that might have led you to what you did then.

It was any other day after school was done and it was time for the extracurriculars. Jinwoo was in track and field while you were in a literature club. Yours ended earlier than his, and when you left, you’d catch him on his breaks. Like always, he’d be under that tree, sitting at the base of it and holding onto his water bottle while he napped a bit. 

Your legs brought you over to him and you squat down to stare at his features. Your eyes blinked as you waited for any form of reaction from him. If he were like you, he’d still have his Hunter senses, but there was none. Your face crunched together a bit as you tested another method. You slowly and gently took his bottle from his hand, still he didn’t seem to be conscious. So you sat down by him and set his bottle between you two.

“Hey, do you remember something like a portal to dungeons? Like in those games or movies? Haha, it’s silly huh? But I remember a world like that. There were brave Hunters who protected normal people with their powers and strength every day, they risked their lives to protect humanity. No matter their rank.” You stared at the sky as you talked your mind out. For some reason, you felt comfortable saying all this to him, even when he was sleeping.

Of course, you never saw the twitch in his fingers and the various eyes that stared at your form from the shadows. You continued your ranting.

“There was once the weakest Hunter who tried his best just to get by, then he was suddenly the strongest. Despite everything he went through, he never hated others or the world, nor did he take revenge. He was so selfishly selfless.” You clenched your hands as you looked down, “I’m sure, in the end, he did something, but it wasn’t just for himself. I can’t tell, but he was so stupid to just suffer the weight of it all alone.”

You failed to notice how his jaws clenched tightly.

“Haha. Well, I’m just being silly.” You got up and patted your clothes to remove any dirt or grass stuck to your fabric. You looked down to see if his form had changed, only to notice nothing out of the ordinary. You chuckled, picking out a leaf from his hair and blowing it away so that it could follow the breeze. You turned your attention back to him and bowed your head saying, “Thank you, Hunter Sung Jinwoo, for all you’ve done.” You straightened up and smiled before turning away from him. “I wish you the happiest lifetime for your efforts and suffering.”

Not even a few steps in, your eyes widened as your smile fell straight from shock. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist as your head tilted to see who it was. Jinwoo.

“Always. You always have a way with words. You know that?” Jinwoo’s voice cracked. 

You flinched, figuring he heard you, “Uh, um, I was just referencing to a novel the literature club had its members read! Nothing too serious! I, really…”

The way Jinwoo’s eyes glowed purple made your words fall short. “Don’t lie. You remember. You remember it all. Please.”

Your heart ached for some reason you can’t explain. In your memories, you were nothing special to the S-Rank Hunter Sung Jinwoo. You were one of the bystanders who cheered him on. You were only something to him when he visited his mother at the hospital, you as the doctor in charge of his mother’s treatment and stay. After his mother was discharged, there was no reason for him to return or visit the hospital because he had no need for it. 

Once, you witnessed his soldiers when his sister was brought to you to check due to some dungeon break in her school. You were so busy calming her down that you ignored the soldiers’ stare. When the Hunter appeared in the room, you professionally relayed his sister’s condition to him and he, in such a troubled state, didn’t spare you greetings of the like. 

After then, you’ve been keeping an eye out on the news for his good work for humanity. Just silently cheering him on from the sidelines because you knew you wouldn’t be able to help him. When you saw him with other S-Ranked Hunters, you felt content and proud, sometimes you can’t believe that was the same small frail E-Rank Hunter that would try to pay his mother’s medical bills with wounds and injuries all over his body. 

You reached your hand to the top of his head as best you could. Perhaps it was a good thing. In this world, he doesn’t need to throw himself into the dangerous dungeons with monsters that want to tear him apart. “Yes, I lied. I remember it all. But aren’t you going to go look for your other friends?”

His grip on you tightened. “I... I’ve wanted to stay by your side for a long time, but it was either you were too busy with your work or I was. There never was a time. When I reversed time, I thought I could correct things. But this time, there were other obstacles.”

“You could have just come talk to me.” You chuckled at his words. “Instead, I got a look good at how you’ve always made girls cry. Can’t you let them down gently?”

“But I was being honest.”

“Brutally honest…” You sighed. 

Jinwoo loosened up a bit, turning you so that he’d meet your eyes and you’d meet his, “What does this make us?”

You poked your finger at the middle of his chest, pushing him away from you, “Nothing serious. We’re starting from rock bottom. As friends.”

Jinwoo smiled, nodding at your words. “Well, we both have the time.”

“Right.” You huffed, content with this result until you recalled something. “Wait, you reversed time!?”

That day, under the tree and with the breeze of the wind, your surprised rambles gave the Shadow Monarch his solace back. For so long, he has dreamed of meeting you again and staying by your side. You were so diligent and caring that he never stood a chance, even when he became an S-Rank Hunter. 

Jinwoo laughed while you continued to speak at the speed of light over what he said. His eyes curled to crescent moons as he watched you stress over what insane thing he had done for the world again. All the while, within his Realm of Eternal Slumber, his Shadows cheered for their reunion, certain few plotting ways to move the relationship faster and deeper. 

With your distracted mind, Jinwoo plopped his form on top of yours while you tried to balance yourself. “It’s so good to have you back.”

“I’ve been here the entire time…” You pouted while you grounded yourself from the sandbag over your head. Still, you can’t help but chuckle, messing up Jinwoo’s hair. “I’ll be in your care this time.”

Note: Another Solo Leveling work! Hope you guys enjoy this one too!

*edited note: I'm opening the request for Solo Leveling request only. Check my masterlist for the rules. Thanks~!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

[starfata]

Athenide AU

People who know of Perseleia Athenide sometimes- get inspired by Percy.

A child of Apollo once used Percy's turn to run sword training class as inspiration for a painting of Perseleia. A child of Athena used Percy's colouring and favourite blue in a tapestry. A child of Aphrodite designed and made several items for Perseleia which would look very good on Percy. Castor and Pollux wrote a play, and several things they've heard Percy say, first and second hand through other campers, are in the dialogue.

One of the people in Sally's creative writing class studied Greek mythology, and is working on a rewrite of Perseleia's myths as a novel. After seeing Percy, they're especially inspired. They think it's the juxtaposition of how young and fit Percy is and the grey streaks in her hair, which Sally passes off as a bleaching disaster Percy has chosen to live with.

A random photography student caught a picture of Percy walking down a street with both a fox and an owl in the frame. The fox and owl are clearer than she is, just the shape of a girl with black hair and a shadow that might be a weapon. When looking up fox owl myths, the student found the perfect title- Perseleia.

When looking through pictures of an ill fated field trip to an Aquarium that ended in an unexpected swim, one of the chaperones finds a brilliant picture of the child responsible in front of the sea otters. Sadly, Percy is already gone from the school and it'd be awkward to try get in contact for a picture, of all things- so the chaperone keeps it. Years later, when their own child is in a Greek mythology phase and they learn about Many, Many Gods and Goddeses they hadn't before, they learn about one who had otters as a sacred animal. Digging out that picture, they use it as art reference for a birthday gift.

A yellow nosed albatross was caught in a photo by a tourist at sunrise, a girl in the background standing in the light as she faced the sea- away from the camera. One of the tourist's friends used the photograph as inspiration for a mosaic.

An art student catches sight of Percy admiring a sunset- creates a portrait of Apollo painting the sunset, and Perseleia looking on.

A script writer, only in town to visit family, sees a girl who looks like she stepped out of a myth marching like she's going to war. The grim purpose on the girls face makes them think of a plot twist- what if Perseleia's refusal of Apollo was driven by duty? Doomed romance, Greek tragedy- excellent B-plot in the script they're writing, of a man on a quest to deliver a gift.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 23

(Jade and Floyd are bioluminescent in darkness, so their scales often glitter and draw in too curious fish. Floyd is an extremely skilled hunter and often uses his Leiomano to fight with larger predators in close combat because he enjoys the thrill of the hunt. Jade usually lets his bioluminescence or his brother bring in the food and is less willing to fight a predator one on one even with his Harpoon. When fighting together, Jade and Floyd are both very skilled at playing off of one another and can easily overwhelm a larger predator.)

Warnings; RSA boys vs NRC boys, photoshoot, trying to rizz the Human ending poorly, Grim is a little shit to almost everyone except for his Hooman, mention of ill-tempered dragon, intentional sabotage of rizz, yanderes vs yanderes, Design Team and Guard Team alliance against Newcomers Team, protective behavior, sweet behavior, angry birds, Harpies, Merman, Drider, Hellcat, Water Nymph, Tree Nymph, Gnoll, Werewolf, Bakeneko, Nemean Lion, Shinigami,

~~~~~~~~

"So, why do we have to go to Pomefiore for this?"

"Because, mon Trickster, it has been storming since your departure to Savanaclaw. The grounds are too wet and muddy to take photos."

You frowned, looking out at the storm that was raging as Rook walked up to the Pomefiore mirror. Some of the storm was likely Malleus' doing, but there was no way he had kept the storm going for this long, right? That would take an unnatural amount of strength and energy to keep a storm going for days on end.

"Is it just rainy weather or is there something else happening?"

"Well," Vil cut in, flanking Rook and ensuring to keep the RSA students at an arm's length, "the storm started right after you joined Leona in Savanaclaw and hasn't stopped since then. Odds are a certain Dragon is throwing a fit."

The second after Vil's words, a large bolt of lightning struck the spires of the school nearby, making even Vil ruffle his feathers up. The lightning seemed to be throwing off all the students that passed by your group, and you stared out once more. You couldn't help but notice that the lightning has a bright green tint to it.

"Will we be able to do the Spelldrive Tournament if it keeps raining?"

"I assume that Crow will make Malleus calm down or you have to spend the night prior to the Spelldrive with Diasomnia to calm him down enough so the field is dry. I don't relish playing in the mud or getting soaked to the bone in this weather."

Rook entered the mirror with you, the others following suit and it was clear the RSA students were a bit thrown off by the mirror and the lovely sunny weather awaiting them in the Pomefiore dorm. You had only been to Pomefiore a few times when you were being fitted for clothes so it was nice to be at the dorm for a different reason. The many apple trees seemed to stretch out around the large iron gates of the dorm as they slowly swung open to allow your group entry.

Any students nearby were quick to bow their heads to Vil and back away, not wanting to earn the Harpy's ire when he had been in a mildly decent mood despite his pouting earlier in the week. It was clear the lush gardens of the dorm were awaiting your group as several students milled about with copious amounts of photography equipment. From different scale cameras to various sized lenses, even to large flash bulbs for lighting, it seemed a much more involved process than you had anticipated.

Leona caught on quickly to the less than excited way you stared at the many cameras and huffed lightly. He seemed amused by your lack of enthusiasm with the pending events.

"You know, Mousey, you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"Yes, Leona, I do have to. The best way to combat the one negative photo would be a lot of positive photos instead. So I do have to do this. For me, for Cater, and so I can stay here at Night Raven."

The Lion hummed and frowned at the many students who had begun to race around, trying to get everything in place. You were a bit lost as to the finer details of the photoshoot but figured Vil knew what he was doing. It was then the almost sweet voice of the Harpy Neige spoke up cooing gently as his feathers fluffed.

"Wow, Vil! This is amazing. I always knew you were a high-tier Magicam model, but it is so cool to see the things you have at your disposal for it. Usually Hop or Grum take photos for my magicam. I've only seen commercials and movies with this much production."

"I wouldn't expect anything more from you. Luckily for us, I do know the best cameras for our little photoshoot. Now, hush, the professionals are working."

Ruggie was the one to help you off of the Drider's back, Grim actually jumping to his arms to avoid the many cameras now pointed in your direction. Vil frowned somewhat at the preference the Hellcat showed to the Lion's dormmates before he gently grabbed your arm, pulling you to what seemed to be the center of the setup. With a clap of his hands, several Pomefiore students began to crowd you as they tried to fix up your hair and add makeup they felt would match you best. Vil was spearheading the efforts, using his own magic to change your outfit to that of a comfortable sun dress that reminded you somewhat of the Pomefiore uniform.

"Sorry, could ya- ah, I mean, could you look up for me?"

The student standing in front of you was the same plant-looking effeminate one that had shown up with Vil and Rook at the beginning of the week. He seemed more uncomfortable than the others despite matching the general theme and vibe of the dorm better than the others. You smiled and did as asked, taking interest in the lovely plant man.

"You don't have to talk all fancy around me. I won't get mad at you for it."

"I wish but- ahem- however, Housewarden Vil said it is a rule to talk like this "

"I don't like that rule."

"Honestly? Ah don't like it much either, makes no sense ta-"

Vil sharply cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at you and the plant man in warning. The plant man sighed and almost seemed to try and straighten up despite how uncomfortable it made him seem.

"Epel, I know you would not be callous enough to revert to your 'charming' accent when I have specifically instructed everyone to be on their best behavior and mind their manners."

"Of course not, Housewarden Vil, I was just..."

Before the plant-man- Epel, according to Vil- could continue his sentence, another voice cut in. You weren't as familiar with the voice but recognized the almost too kind tone of Erikír, the Merman prince.

"Careful, plant Nymph, no need to be rude or so dreadfully 'country' in front of fairer company."

You frowned at this, glancing at the grinning Merman who seemed to have no issue judging Epel right off the bat. Something about his tone made it seem like he intended it to be light-hearted and playful, but you couldn't help but take it as rude. Sure, Vil similarly griped at Epel, but it was Vil's duty as Housewarden to scold him. It was not Erikír's duty to do the same.

"Mind yourself, Prince Erikír, I asked him to speak in a comfortable way around me. Do not presume to scold a student not your own for a request I made."

Erikír seemed surprised by your tone and how clipped it had become before he bowed his head, conceding to your wishes. He almost seemed to have a slight grimace but his expression quickly smoothed back into a pleasant smile. That small lapse in behavior had you wondering about Erikír and if he had ulterior motives behind volunteering to guard you. It made you wonder about all of the RSA students.

"My apologies, fair (Y/n). I did not intend to offend."

"It is Vil's place and duty to keep his dormmates in line with the rules of their dorm. It is not your place nor your duty to do the same."

Erikír somewhat winced at your reprimand but Vil was absolutely beaming in pride. He had a clear smirk curling the corners of his lips as he sneered at the visiting student with his crest fully raised. You had half a mind to scold Vil as well, but figured you got your point across as Epel very carefully applied eye-liner to your lower lid. If anything, Epel actually seemed amused with your quick snap at Erikír and seemed much more relaxed around you now.

"There. I'd say it looks darn good- urk-! I mean- you- it looks nice on you. I mean- you always look nice-!"

You chuckled and caught Epel's hand as he stumbled over his words, holding the rough bark-covered limb in your own. The flowers that adorned the leaves making up his hair seemed to all bloom the moment you held his hand and smiled at him. It was clear Epel couldn't find the words to say what he wanted and was rendered almost mute by your friendly behavior towards him.

"Thank you, Epel, you've done a wonderful job."

"Aw, shucks, it ain't all that big a deal... I mean-!"

"I know. I think you should let your accent shine, it is very endearing."

"Sure..."

You could have sworn the Nymph would be blushing if he didn't have bark for skin and sap for blood. Vil was quick to sweep you away from the other Pomefiore students and towards the cameras, where he gave you a thrilled smile and spun you once to get a good look at you. He seemed pleased with what he saw as he nodded to the students behind the cameras.

"Alright, don't worry too much about posing at first, this is a 'casual' and 'natural' photoshoot, so just do what feels natural to you. Feel free to pull any of us into the photos if you wish, I will do my best to compose the photos and may ask for certain poses later as we continue the shoot."

"So I can make you pose for photos too?"

"Of course. I would certainly value any prints we get of the two of us together, but you may wish to pull Rook and even Leona in for a few pictures."

You nodded at this, letting Vil move you around and somewhat pose with you for the first few photos. He genuinely seemed happy to help you into typical model poses, a look of amusement and affection for your attempts to pose with him. How he valued those little moments guiding you as you trusted him to lead you through the casual steps he had long perfected.

All too soon it was over and Vil felt a kind of burning jealousy in his throat as you turned to the others who had mostly agreed to join this little event. Vil pulled away first to allow you to move on despite how he wanted to linger. You were keen to see how the softer Harpy would handle being in the photos with you.

You didn't notice the way Vil bristled and let out a low hissing sound as you gently pulled the smaller Harpy towards you. Neige was much more relaxed with the attention than you expected as he happily posed with you and smiled to the cameras that had yet to stop clicking and flashing. He even managed to get a chuckle from you as he cooed softly and seemed to cuddle up against you.

Like Vil, he led you through the different poses easily and made you feel comfortable around him. It was when he began a small somewhat dance of poses with you that Vil almost screamed in anger, clearly upset at the idea of anyone dancing with you, let alone this feathered rat-with-wings Dove. How dare he try to do something so inherently linked with Harpies? Even if they were just poses and not technically an actual dance, it made no difference to Vil.

Thankfully, Rook managed to keep Vil from leaping at the smaller Harpy. The Drider saw how you smiled and enjoyed the little dance with the ever lovely Dove Harpy he adored, knowing Neige intended it as a friendly interaction and not the beginning of intimacy as Vil perceived it to be. What did raise Rook's suspicion was how Erikír refused to take his eyes off of you even once, his blue orbs following you closely with every move you made.

"Vil, how about you join Neige and I for these next few photos?"

"If I may," Erikír interjected, stepping forward with a hand to his heart as he smiled warmly at you, "may I cut in for a little bit? Surely the presence of several species would lend credence to these photos?"

"Alright, that makes sense."

Erikír was quick to take his place by your side, almost brushing past Neige who happily stepped aside to let the merman approach instead. The Merman gently held your hands and spun you around in his hold, letting your back press against his chest as he moved in a slow progression of poses. Most of the poses he chose involved holding you in some way or having a hand resting on your soft figure as he seemed to almost enjoy the poses a bit too much.

As he moved you to a different pose, you noticed the way he was almost insistent about placing his hands on your stomach, his entire chest pressed against your back as he held you from behind. You were becoming a bit uncomfortable and it must have showed in your expression as Leona suddenly cut in, easily shoving the prince back and away from you as the Lion mimicked the same pose from earlier, only his hands remained on your hips and not your stomach. A soft growl escaped his lips as he glared at the prince who frowned angrily in response.

"Keep your hands in respectable places, little Prince."

The word Prince was spat out and almost hissed as if in mocking to the Merman who had been somewhat monopolizing the pictures in front of the cameras. Leona's words confused you though, and you glanced back at him curiously.

"Respectable places?"

"Don't worry about it, Mousey. I know Humans considered touching stomachs to be a provocative act. I won't let this rude little fish make you uncomfortable."

"... What? You guys do know I don't consider my stomach an erogenous zone... Right?"

It was Leona's turn to be surprised as he raised a brow at you, his scar pulling taut on his skin. He seemed confused as did the others and you sighed, realizing they must have made assumptions again about Humans as a whole.

"Sure, not every Human is okay with their stomachs being touched, and some- especially pregnant women- hate when someone touches their stomach uninvited. But that is an issue with consent, not overtly considered to be sexual behavior because it is their stomach."

Still, if all of them assumed stomachs were an overly sexualized location on Humans, then that meant Erikír was trying to sexualize you. If not sexualize you, then he was attempting to be overly sexual with you. That simply would not stand, even for poses.

"That, however, does not mean it is okay for anyone to touch me without permission. Ever."

"My apologies, I didn't intend-"

"Oh? You didn't intend? If everyone of you assumes my stomach is sexual in nature, then why the hell did you feel alright touching me there?"

"I- I just-"

"You 'just' what? Thought it was okay to cross any boundary you thought existed because you felt like it?"

"No! Not at all! Please, believe me, I was not trying to make you uncomfortable or do anything inappropriate."

"I don't think you need to be in any further pictures, Erikír."

"But I-! Very well. I apologize again for any discomfort I have caused you. I merely intended to befriend you."

"Well, you aren't doing a very good job at that."

You saw the Merman visibly jolt as if he had been struck by your words. A kind of look glinted in his eyes as he seemed to anger for a moment before suddenly calming himself down. He withdrew somewhat from the others and you gave one final glare before continuing to pose with Leona now, who kept his eyes glued to the offending Merman with clear distrust.

Erikír was fuming on the inside, glaring hatefully at the Lion that had outed his more than friendly behavior towards you. If the Lion had not said a word about it, you would have clearly been unaware of the implications of the Merman. He was trying so hard to charm and woo you, yet you came to the defense of the villains every time instead of seeing him as the hero he was supposed to be.

A poisonous feeling of resentment towards the villainous students boiled in the pit of his stomach. You had allowed Neige of all students to dance with you, why was Erikír the one being shunned? He was top of his class and was clearly a physically capable mate, so why choose that obnoxiously kind Harpy and nosey Lion over him?

He would just have to try harder to prove himself a worthy mate by any means necessary.

"Hey!"

A loud and familiar childish voice cut in to the photos you were taking with Leona, glancing over to see Ortho and Idia walking up to the group. Ortho was bouncing excitedly and held out the mechanical skull you recognized as the one Kalim had affected with his magic. It seemed Idia had managed to ensure it wouldn't explode and now sought to return the Skull to you.

"Nee-san! Idi-nii and I checked over and double checked to make sure it was safe!"

The little Shinigami was quick to bolt to your side and the ever nervous Idia followed suit at a much more timid pace than the younger. Idia was visibly distressed by the new faces and seemed to shrink in on himself as Ortho happily handed over the Skull. Though it had appeared inert in his hands, it sparked to life when you touched it and a soothing melody hummed out.

The return of familiar music was incredibly soothing to you and you smiled, humming along with the music as you gently ruffled the flame-hair of the littler Shinigami. Ortho was thrilled at the gentle touch and pressed his head into your hand, his blue flames feeling like gently warmed hair beneath your fingers instead of burning you. It was an unusual feeling, but one you appreciated regardless and it told you about the general nature of Idia and Ortho's hair.

"Thank you, Ortho, Idia. I appreciate the two of you quite a bit."

Idia smiled at this, his cheeks flaming a gentle blue as his hair began to take a somewhat magenta hue. He swayed back and forth as he bit his sleeve and looked away bashfully, clearly soaking up the praise you gave him.

"You don't have to be so sweet about it. It wasn't even that big a deal or that much work. I built them myself, so of course I could tell if anything was out of place. But if you want, you could thank me by gaming with Ortho and I a bit."

"Or," you playfully interjected, "you two can join me for some pictures for my new Magicam account."

Idia visibly balked at the idea and seemed to search for an immediate escape, unable to feel as Ortho grabbed his arm.

"Of course we'll take pictures with you, Nee-san! Papa Hades is gonna love them!"

"No! Wait, wait, wait! You can't spring a raid on me like this, Ortho! I didn't even get a ready check-!"

"Let's go!"

You laughed at the brotherly behavior of the two Shinigami, continuing to hum with the music as it felt like you had been given a great gift. Perhaps you could even get Vil interested in a few of the songs you loved so much. Even Grim seemed to be enjoying the little photoshoot as he leaped out of Ruggie's arms and into your own, posing excitedly with Ortho.

Even among the renewed mirth and pulling several of the other monsters into the pictures with you, a certain darkness seemed to hover over one of the students. This monster had lived his entire life hoping he could come across some lonely and adoring Human that he could wed and keep as his own. He was not going to let these villains get in between him and his dream, even if he needed to make one of the others the monster in order to do that.

[tokoyan]

- A kiss you couldn't undo.

pairing: na baekjin x reader

warning: Cheating

word count: 1,624

pt1 // pt2 // pt3

gif credit: @cesowi

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks since that moment with Baekjin.

That kiss.

And the worst part? You didn’t even hate it.

Every time you’re around Baku, it eats at you. The guilt. The shame. The way your stomach twists whenever he smiles at you like you're the only person in the world. “He’s too good for me,” is a thought that keeps showing up, uninvited, no matter how much you try to shove it away. But then—then there's that other part of you. The part that replays the kiss like a broken record. Over and over. Like your brain won’t let you forget what it felt like to be touched by someone else.

And maybe... maybe you did know why. But admitting it out loud felt like confessing to a crime you didn’t even mean to commit.

“Hello? You there?” Baku’s voice cuts through your thoughts like a knife. You blink, pulling yourself back to the present as he waves his hand in front of your face.

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” you mumble, trying to act like you weren’t completely spiraling two seconds ago.

“You’ve been zoning out a lot lately,” he says, frowning. “Is something wrong?”

You shake your head too quickly. “It’s nothing,” you say with a fake smile you hope he buys.

But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.

“Y/N, c’mon,” he says gently, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer. “I know when something’s bothering you.”

You sigh. “Okay, fine… your birthday is coming up and I still have no idea what to get you,” you blurt, praying the lie is good enough.

He raises a brow, clearly not convinced, but lets it slide. “Honestly? Just get me anything. I don’t really care.”

Then, like he hasn’t just unknowingly walked into the middle of a storm, he leans in and places a soft kiss on your forehead. You melt a little—like always. Your head rests on his chest as you both watch some students kicking a football around the field.

“Okay then,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed, pretending—for just a second—that things are still perfect.

But they aren’t.

A week passes. It’s finally Baku’s birthday. Since it’s Saturday, you hadn’t seen him all day, aside from the “Happy birthday!!” text and sleepy phone call you sent that morning. You, Gotak, Sieun, and Juntae had all planned a surprise party at Gotak’s house since his parents weren’t home and he got the green light to host.

As the sun dips behind the horizon and the sky turns gold then purple, you guys text Baku and tell him to come over—but you don’t say why. He doesn’t ask many questions. Just says “Okay” and starts getting ready.

But right before he leaves the house, his phone buzzes.

It’s not from you. Not from any of the group chat people.

It’s an unknown number.

He hesitates, thumb hovering over the screen. Curiosity wins. It’s a voice message.

He clicks it.

Then he freezes.

Because it’s… your voice.

And what he hears next?

Feels like getting stabbed straight through the chest.

Back at Gotak’s house, you're all confused why Baku’s taking so long. But then there’s a knock at the door and your heart jumps. You grab the cake with the lit candles, standing right in front of the entrance, practically glowing with excitement.

Gotak opens the door.

You, Juntae, and Sieun yell in unison, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”

The confetti bursts into the air.

But Baku just stands there.

Stone cold.

Not smiling.

Not reacting.

Just… staring at you.

“Yo… you good?” Gotak asks, lowering the party popper, confused.

“Y/N. Can we talk?” he says, eyes locked on yours, voice low and sharp.

Your stomach flips. You already know.

The kiss.

He knows.

“Yeah… sure,” you say, barely above a whisper. You put the cake down on the coffee table and follow him outside.

The second the door shuts behind you, the temperature drops ten degrees.

“Why?” he asks.

You stare at him. “...What do you mean, ‘why?’”

“I’ve only ever been good to you. So why?”

His voice breaks.

“Baku, I really didn’t me—”

“No. You did. Don’t lie to me.”

He pulls out his phone and presses play.

Your voice plays through the speaker.

Your heart drops to the floor.

How the hell did he get that? Baekjin. It had to be him.

“You kissed some guy behind my back and act like you love me?” Baku’s voice cracks again. His eyes glassy. “B-Baku, please, I really d—”

“Just stop,” he says, looking everywhere but at you now.

“Baku…”

“We’ll talk later,” he mutters, wiping at his face before walking back inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

You just stand there.

Alone.

In the cold.

And it hits you like a freight train.

You ruined it.

You start running. Running home. Face wet with tears. Your chest tight. You don’t even know if you’re crying more from guilt, heartbreak, or… Baekjin.

When you finally make it home, you collapse on the couch and sob into the cushions. Loud, messy, ugly sobs. You want to disappear. You want to scream.

But then your phone rings.

Unknown number.

Of course.

You pick up.

“What the hell do you wan—”

“Open the door,” Baekjin says, calm. Almost too calm.

“…What?” you whisper, sitting up, wiping your face. You peek out the window.

He’s outside. His motorcycle parked in front.

You end the call and walk to the door.

You shouldn’t open it. After what he did… after what you did…

But you open it anyway.

He’s standing there like nothing happened. Hands in his pockets. That stupid chill stance that makes your blood boil.

“Why are you here?” you ask, voice still shaky.

“To do something I’ve wanted to do since I first saw you,” he says.

“Baekjin, just tell me and stop beating around the bush!”

“…Fine. I want to make you mine.”

The words barely register before he steps inside and kisses you.

You KNOW you should push him away.

You know you’re hurting Baku.

But you're tired.

You're hurting too.

And this—this feels like a bandaid on a bleeding wound.

He closes the door with one hand and grabs your face with the other, deepening the kiss. It’s rough. Urgent. Messy. Your back hits the wall and you're gasping between kisses.

“Baekjin…” you whisper, pulling away just for air.

“Shh,” he mumbles, pressing his lips back on yours.

You kiss him back.

And then somehow, you're on the dining table—he pushed everything off in one dramatic sweep—and placed you on top of it like you weigh nothing.

He starts kissing your neck. You feel the heat rush through you. He wants to leave marks. Proof. Possession.

“Fuck…” he groans against your skin, gripping you tighter.

Then he stops. Pulls away slightly.

“I want you to want this,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours.

You know the right thing is to say no.

But you say yes.

A small smirk tugs at his lips. He places one last kiss on your lips before stepping back.

“Then show me how much you want me,” he says, turning and walking out the door like he was never even there.

He left you breathless. Confused. Wanting more.

You hated how he played these games. Hated how he always left you dizzy and desperate.

But the real question?

Were you going to let him keep playing?

Or were you already too far gone?

[cherryheairt]

Law of Attraction

Chapter one: Shielded

Chishiya x reader fanfiction

Starts pre-Arisu entering Borderland, months before

Chapter Two

The Beach must have taken months to establish with all of the people that had been there far longer than Arisu and his friends. This is set right before the Beach's foundation.

warnings for all future chapters: harassment, threats, physical violence, death. typical AIB stuff

Your days were busier than ever since you started college. Studying to be a teacher, which many often pouted their lips and expressed their sympathies when you told them, was not actually as easy as people thought. You had to complete a few hundred hours of your externship on top of classes and your part-time job to pay for said classes.

The work would be fulfilling, eventually. When you finally finished shadowing Mr. Sato, the biggest pain in your ass, you could be free to begin your first official year of teaching and quit your miserable job as a bartender. Contrasting fields, yes, but the tips paid the bills well.

Each night, your shift ended at around two in the morning and you went straight from the bar and to your apartment, passing out and waking up bright and early at seven for your weekday classes. Luckily, most shifts at the bar were on Thursdays and weekends, while all classes and externship hours were during weekdays. After class, it was typically back to the bar to open.

You couldn't complain too much. Besides having a non-existent social life beyond a classroom of fourth-graders and classrooms of college students, you flew under the radar pretty well. No one had it out for you, nor you for them, but any off days you rarely had were not spent in the company of friends or even friendly coworkers, just by yourself in your little apartment waiting for time to pass. A boring and uneventful life. Sometimes you wondered what it was all for, and you had yet to find your answer. You told yourself that after graduation it would all turn out perfect, and you'd live normally while balancing your social life better, maybe even get married after a few years of healthy stability. But that itch was still on the back of your mind, asking, ‘for what?’

Today was booked with all three. After your unpaid shift with Mr. Hana's class and your ‘School and Classroom Culture’ class, you headed to work.

The club was crowded at the end of the week. Friday had brought in a chill every time the door opened, leaving the sweaty atmosphere to be momentarily paused as groups flitted in and stumbled out. You were working on your umpteenth round of the cheapest vodka shots the establishment offered, enjoying the chill despite the brash complaints around you about it. Sliding the shots onto a tray, you nodded for Hana to serve her table.

“Thanks, babe!” She chirped with a wink and shouldered the tray off to the table of cheering ladies.

Onto the next.

A man with jet black hair hovering just over his shoulders and a middle part framing his face sat right at the bar. He seemed jittery and slightly nervous, as if you might say ‘no’ to any request he may have. He was in work uniform, an office you guessed, looking beyond him to see a group of guys dressed the same and gawking at the girls dancing.

“Excuse me?” He began, glancing over his shoulder.

“What can I get you?” You perked up, putting on your best customer service place. Nervous guys were a million times better than the cocky ones who thought they were entitled to seeing more skin or even a dance from you, despite the readily available shows up front. The thrill of what they could not have, you supposed. Guys like this were a blessing, despite their eyes giving away their desires.

He licked his lips shortly, glancing down at your own chest on view through your black tank top before shooting his eyes quickly back up. “Three—no, nine, probably— sake shots.” He stumbled.

You raised a brow, counting him as the sixth. “Is that it?” You asked, moving to pull the bottle from its shelf and a multitude of glasses.

“I'm driving everyone home.” He explained with a slight flush. The men in the back chortled at one another's jokes while he seemed in no rush at all to join them again. After you poured the triple round tray, she handed it off to the guy.

You hadn't even made another full drink for the lady next to him before he was back, tray under his arm and the guys at a table downing their shots behind him. “Here,” he mumbled, politely placing the tray on the sticky counter.

You nodded appreciatively, topping the mojito off with some mint leaves on the rim. The lady smiled and thanked you before rejoining her group of friends, leaving the man standing in front of the bar awkwardly alone.

Seeing as he was the only one, you allowed yourself a brief break to wipe the counter. “Not going to join your coworkers?” You asked curiously.

He squeezed his hands together, shaking his head with pursed lips. “Co-workers.” He corrected.

You nodded understandingly, knowing he must have been coerced into being a DD for some coworkers who didn't want to spend their time sober. “How about a soda?” You offered with a small smile.

Hours passed quickly, customer's faces all bleeding together. The man eventually left with his intoxicated group after lingering around the bar and watching his co-workers and the girls both from a safe distance. You didn't think much about him after, focusing on cleaning your station and heading the hell home.

Hana brushed against you behind the bar, helping herself to a generous double shot of a lemon drop cocktail-her absolute favorite despite your sour face whenever she offers one to you-and leans against the counter to sip on it while you finish up.

"Doing anything tomorrow? I was thinking of getting dinner with some girlfriends and barhopping afterward." She suggested with a lift of her glass.

"I can't." You sighed. "Got a project to finish, then work again tomorrow night."

Hana leaned her head back as if she were wounded. "You alwaysss 'can't'. Come on, babes, live a little. You're only twenty-two, and you live like an old hermit."

You couldn't disagree. "Next time, Hana. I promise."

She sends you a sympathetic smile. "If you ever need anything, you got my number."

"I know. Thanks," you offer weakly.

Despite the chill on the walk to the train, you still felt the residue of the club on your skin and clothes. You smelled like beer and liquor over old perfume, something you'd unfortunately grown used to. Although your own insensitivity didn't stop others from giving you disgusted glances passerbys gave you as if you were stumbling around the streets of Tokyo begging for cash.

Relaxing into a seat, you felt the grogginess of the day wash over you. As much as you fought against it, you fell asleep in your empty train car.

Jerking awake at the dinging of the last stop call, you promptly collected your belongings. You jumped up and off the train, climbing the stairs and out onto the dark streets. Completely empty and nearly pitch black, you were stopped in your tracks. No people being outside at 3 a.m wasn't a crazy thing in this part of town, but the streetlights being down? You clutched your bag tight, wondering if you'd stepped into a horror movie shooting.

As you continued down the path towards your apartment, you brought up your phone to glimpse at the local news and electrical issues.

When the phone wouldn't even turn on, you began to panic. Shoving your things into your bag, you started to briskly walk home. The way was only lit up by the full moon, making reflective street signs possible to navigate around with.

When the first firework ‘popped!’ in the skies and whined all the way down, you jumped. “Fireworks?” You muttered aloud, stepping off the sidewalk to get a better view in the street. Abandoned cars littered it, but you forced yourself to ignore them in favor of this all being a high-budget movie scene. That hope could only last so long.

If the streets were really being rented out, then why wasn't the skyline of Tokyo at least still lit? It was virtually impossible to clear an entire city for a piece of media, no matter the budget.

Finally, you spotted a faint light coming from a distant building. You sprinted towards it, seeing it as your only chance for answers or other people. Let it be a prank, you silently pleaded.

When you reached the place, you read the lit sign, humming at the frank realization that this place was something like an office building. It was tall and skinny, with a logo you didn't recognize on it. Another building sat parallel to it with a bridge connecting it but it stayed unlit. Gingerly, you stepped into it and flinched as a robotic voice called out.

“One player registered. Waiting for others. Please take one phone per person.”

It was then she realized there was a silver table with a bunch of lines neatly lined up. When she grabbed one, it spoke again. “Reading facial I.D.” When you saw your name written across the white screen in bold black letters, your heart dropped to your stomach.

There was no time to dwell when another person wandered into the building. You turned to them, hoping that this person might be the one who revealed any answers, but were only met with a mirrored face. A woman, slightly taller than you with pajamas on but an alert expression. “What's going on?” She asked, voice small.

You looked behind her, seeing a foreign man enter with a disciplined calmness. “I don't know. You're the first people I've seen.” You told her, earning a frown. You both seemed to have the same idea by looking at the older man. He shrugged, glancing around.

“I was wonderin’ why all those fireworks was goin’ off.” He said tiredly.

More people entered, and a familiar face finally showed up. The man from the bar, who immediately also perked up upon seeing your face. You found each other quickly, standing side by side after everyone picked up a phone. Even if you didn't know each other, the slight comfort was like grasping at straws.

He whispered to you, suspiciously looking at all of the other strangers. “Do you know what the hell is going on?”

With a hopeless shake of your head, the man sighed and melted into the wall. Cutting off the scared murmurs, the robotic female voice spoke again. “Registration closed. There are fifteen players.”

A white screen lit up at the top of the elevator.

Displayed on it as well as being read out loud: “Game: Fishbowl. Difficulty: Three of Diamonds.”

“Diamond?” You asked, getting no answer from anyone else.

“Objective: Find the exit to the mazes on each floor. There are 10 levels total. Clear conditions: Make it to the roof before the timer runs out.”

“That sounds easy enough.” A teenager's voice broke through the silence.

“Yet it doesn't explain why we're doing a game in the first place. I'm going home, fuck this.” Another guy grumbled, obviously too irritated to continue playing the random game. When he turned his back and went through the entranceway doors, the small red-lined lasers shot through him like knives.

The room erupted in panic and screams. No one was silent or still, and you stood next to the wall with warm splatters of blood on your face and clothes. With a trembling hand, you reached up to wipe a bit off, revealing the same red that touched everything else in the lobby.

“Game start. Time: Three hours.”

“Is that all we have?” You whispered, the taller man beside you eyeing the scene and the dead man silently. He seemed to straighten from his slouched and nervous posture, eyebrows knitting together like he just solved something. Without a word, he brushed past you and to the stairwell.

It let him open the door, and he disappeared up the stairs whilst everyone still flurried about.

You were quick to follow, not wanting to meet the same grizzly fate as the dead man. There would be time to figure out whats and hows and whos later—when you were safe at home.

Up the first floor of stairs, the second level's door opening and displaying a big ‘1’ on it.

The man opens it, and you are surprised to see office-like cubicle walls climbing to the top in wide rows. It was like the real office was gone and changed out with an entirely new structure. Along the white walls were some paintings still hung up and some plants somehow decorating the ugly carpet in a few corners.

He took the lead, stepping with a newfound confidence. “Wait!” You urged. “What if there's more lasers?”

He looked over his shoulder, shrugging. “Maybe, but we'll just have to find out.”

Slightly irked, you followed still. After about ten minutes, you were both utterly lost. Others had joined and started to play as little ducklings following their mother, but you supposed it would be hypocritical to judge when you had done the very same.

“We've been around the floor a hundred times!” He exaggerated, brushing his hands through his hair.

“Have some patience.” You bit. “You're freaking me out.”

Going back to the stairwell, you retraced your steps and started again.

Using the method of right-hand-to-wall as you typically followed in video games, you began to lead in front.

More minutes passed and more dead ends appeared. The windows where the main walls of the building showed the empty night sky and the next door building reflecting the moon light still. You checked your phone, seeing a flashing ‘2:32: left on your timer. Thirty minutes had passed and floor one wasn't even completed.

“Shit.” You started to run back to the start, practically having it memorized by now. You ran into the stairwell again, wincing when you half-expected the doorway to laser you down but continuing in your rush when it hadn't. The doorway to the third floor was locked, as expected, but different from the second floor, it had a small pin pad on its knob.

How obvious. All fourteen of you had spent over thirty minutes looking for a door when it was behind you all along. “We need digits!” You yelled into the doorway.

A few stragglers waited at the doorway, not having any use while most continued their search. “Look for any numbers!” The man shouted louder in your echo, leaving the room to burst into murmurs and leave plants and paintings tossed around.

The teenager came running to the door, panting but with a satisfied smile on her face. “Look! It has a ‘4’ on the back!”

The players all cheered, and you held the painting backwards to inspect. “How do we know what order to place them in?” You muttered to yourself. In a matter of minutes all of the paintings that carried numbers were laid in front of the doorway.

‘4’ ‘2’ ‘3’ ‘1’

“There's way too many options.” An old man with a hunched back spoke up darkly. “There's no time to do this for every floor.”

“Flip them.” Your club companion said.

On the fronts were simple but quite beautiful paintings of scenery. A pond, a park, a forest, and a beach.

An idea shot into your mind as you inspected the order of them. Kneeling in front of them, you arranged the paintings in the order of their backgrounds. Sunset, to noon, to afternoon, and finally to dusk. “Read them out to me in this order.” You told the man, who nodded as his eyes lit up in realization.

At the keypad, you fingered the digits he yelled out to you. “Three, two, four, one!”

It clicked open. You cheered and beckoned for the rest. After the first puzzle was solved, eight more went by smoothly. It was the same concept, only getting slightly harder as it went up. Stages of a frog, generations of a family, technological ages of humanity, and so forth until the 10th door was unlocked. Only one more door and you would be out.

When the door opened, you were stunned to see that all the walls were glass. The entire room was see-through, including the outer walls and the view from the height was nearly nauseating from all the clarity. “Everyone…” Someone called out in fear. They stood on one of the last steps behind the group. “Water is rising.” They lifted their feet up, revealing sopping wet shoes and ends of her pant legs. She scrambled to the upper steps, and everyone followed suit to get away from the water. This time, there was a clear red door on the other side of the room.

You swallowed harshly at the rapidly rising water, realizing that even closing the door behind you didn't make it any slower as it seemed to ooze out of the very walls themselves. Cubicles showed themselves, lighting up on the floor in a blinding white. “One player per room. All living players must solve their puzzles before the time runs out.”

The buzzer went off and doors opened to allow all fourteen of them into the rooms. The man and her were parallel, eyes meeting with you showing signs of nerve and him seemingly gaining confidence on his own.

A screen rose in front of you, sticking out of the water and coming to life with a riddle on its screen. “What does everyone's screen say?” You asked, hoping to collectively solve it.

“Something about two birds.” The teen replied with a desperate look to you.

“Mine is a math equation.” Another said.

The old man piped up, beginning to read off his own question though he was easily drowned out in all of the noise.

You looked to your own, which seemed daunting on its own. What happens when you get it wrong?

Your answer came in a nightmare. The old man had selected a random option in hopes of guessing correctly, and everyone could only watch on as his cube was immediately flooded to the brim with water. His lights turned bright red and you turned your gaze away and covered your ears to prevent the sight and sounds from implanting themselves in your head forever.

When it all got quiet, you checked your phone again.

‘0:08’

Eight more minutes. Your cube's water was already to your waistline and climbing still. You focused on your own question although the urge to answer other's pleas for assistance and confusion nagged at you insistently. The sound of more water and more screams and choked gargling was all that was left in the room as your water rose above your head, too.

‘What is the last number in the sequence?

895371’

You scanned over the sequence repeatedly, seeing flashes of white lights turning red around your peripherals and one turning green.

Entering a sloppy, ‘1’ in the keypad, you kicked up to the top of the cube to gasp in what little air was left at the top. Looking around you saw no one except for the club man. Your own cube's lights flashed green, and the click of the doors could vaguely be heard above the sound of rushing water. You both dived under, pushing at your doors.

His budged open immediately and he swam up and towards the exit door that lead up. You kept pushing at your own, heart racing and running out of air, but nothing made it open. Going topside again, you shouted out. “My door is jammed!”

He stopped in place, the few inches left of water between him and the ceiling showing his wet lashes looking down his nose at you. Clenching his jaw, he looked rapidly between the door and you. Finally, he clicked his tongue and pushed off the glass to your area.

In sync, you held your breaths for the last time and swam down to the door. You nodded, signaling for him to pull and you to push. After a few tries, the water-jammed door pried open and you swam together towards the red door.

You tried your hardest to ignore the lifeless floating bodies that were at the top of each cube.

It opened outwards, the two of you being flung against the wall by the water that rushed down the stairwell. A shout of pain left his lips below you and you scrambled up, panting out and apologizing for cornering him and possibly bruising his ribs.

The water didn't stop there, following you both as you ran up more stairs and onto the roof. Hands on your knees, you coughed up the remaining water from your throat and lungs and sat down, elbows shakily supporting your body. What had happened in the last three hours? You had just witnessed thirteen people die in one night when you hadn't seen a single death in your life prior.

Who put you here, and for what purpose were you playing these games?

Your phone chimed. “Game cleared. Visa days added: 3 days remaining.”

You and the man stood alone on the roof, not a single other survivor from the game alive. You weren't sure if there was any person in this world left alive, either, besides from you and him.

“You owe me.” He said with an ominous one. “Don't forget that.”

“I won't.” You promised. Then after a long pause, you added your name in a smaller tone.

“Niragi.” Was all he offered, and you briefly wondered how just over three hours ago, this man was meek and clearly a pushover in every aspect of his life. Now, everything about him seemed straighter and more intimidating.

Sticking by him, you were unsure if it meant being thrown to the wolves at the first sight of danger or defended in a play of arrogance. Though your common sense urged you to leave at the first sign of his distraction, you stayed firmly planted by his side.

Perhaps there was some benefit to this strange and peculiar world, no more work and no more rent. Safety was in numbers, after all, and having a guy like Niragi might save your ass again.

This is not a Niragi fic, although it may seem like it at first; more like a toxic and controlling relationship (think Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Grey). Changing his character slightly, Niragi has not attempted to SA anyone and will not in the future- his character had so much potential beyond that. His appearance change (piercings) doesn't start in his personal life like in canon and his job as a game designer was an office job instead of a WFH job

[seonghrtz]

𝒅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 ᡴꪫ⠀ ( vi & f!reader ) fluff 0.7k + cw. high school au ooc!vi | you and vi met in detention.

While many said that school was like a second home, Violet felt that maybe it wasn't the school itself, but for her, her second home was the detention room. It was no longer surprising to see the pink-haired girl at the back of the room, leaning over the desk as she waited for the time to pass. It was routine for Vi to end up in detention, for whatever reason.

Spending time in that silent room wasn't one of the worst experiences, though. The teacher who supervised the students in detention let them do whatever they wanted as long as they stayed inside until the time was up. And Vi used detention to take a nap before going home.

On this particular day, however, Vi could not fall asleep as she bent over the table. The young woman ran her hands over her face, trying to hold on to the thread of sleep she had felt as she entered the room (the same sleep that seemed to vanish the moment she laid down on the table).

Vi took a deep breath and her eyes swept the room, taking in the students present. There were no more than ten students present, some reading a book or comic, some chatting to each other, some taking the time to do their homework. But Vi's attention ⸻ and curiosity ⸻ was drawn to the girl sitting next to her.

At first, the pink-haired girl hadn't noticed the stranger in the desk next to hers. But once she had, it was as if she couldn't look away.

Not so disguised, Vi leaned back in her chair, settled into a comfortable position and stared at the girl next to her, immersing herself in the stranger's concentration on the notebook. Violet was content to watch as the pencil was controlled by the girl's nimble hands, forming lines and shapes on the paper ⸻ which, unfortunately, was a mystery to her, as she couldn't see at least a glimpse of the drawing.

Violet didn't realise how much time had passed as she watched the stranger in her own world while she drew. She only came back to reality when the girl got up from her chair and began to tidy up her materials, which were scattered all over the table. And like a herd effect, Vi got up, picked up her backpack and headed out of the room, but before she could leave with the other students, she felt a hand grab her wrist, making her stop halfway and turn around.

Vi felt her heart skip a beat as she noticed the girl who had been sitting next to her a few seconds ago standing in front of her, looking at her with her bright eyes as the stars.

"Since you seemed to enjoy watching me.” The girl smiled and handed a folded sheet of paper to Vi, who didn't hesitate to take it.

Vi watched as the stranger disappeared from her field of vision and turned her attention to the paper in her hands. As she opened the paper, Violet felt a blush spread across her cheeks. On the paper was a drawing of herself leaning over the table with her eyes closed (probably a record of one of her failed attempts to fall asleep). The drawing was full of detail, from a few unruly strands of her hair to the piercing in her nose and even the scar on her eyebrow and upper lip.

The drawing was incredibly beautiful and a feeling of happiness grew in Vi's chest, she'd never been anyone's muse before and it hadn't been so bad to be one (not when a pretty girl paid attention to every little detail of her appearance to turn it into a work of art).

She looked at the drawing again and noticed something written in the corner.

A name and a phone number.

Vi smiled to herself as she whispered the name of the artist she had just met, feeling the name come out of her lips like sweet honey. Even the sound of the name was as beautiful as its owner.

Perhaps not sleeping in detention had been one of her best choices. But if she wanted to be more romantic, her inability to sleep seemed to be the work of fate, just waiting for the right moment to act.

© seonghrtz, 2025. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !