#taps the board this will be on the quiz | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mcrdvcks · 3 months ago

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i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ this is me trying

chapter summary: You and Logan try IVF.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: another short chapter!? who am i? (also this gif is 😙🤌)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, angst, talks of fertility and pregnancy, smut, slight sub!logan unprotected piv, creampie, ghost hunting

series masterlist - chapter 7 → chapter 9

“—and we need to… Logan!” You exclaimed, breaking him out of whatever stupor he was in while staring at you.

You were explaining the new calendar you made that coincided with your IVF treatment, meaning no sex some days before retrieval and no sex some time after.

“Yeah, ‘m listening,” Logan repeated, his eyes flickering back to you like a magnet drawn to steel. He leaned lazily against the counter in your lab, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement—or distraction. Probably both.

You narrowed your eyes, tightening your grip on the whiteboard marker. "Then what did I just say?"

“You need to… no sex before, no sex after," he recited slowly, as if carefully testing each word to make sure it wouldn’t backfire.

“And?" You crossed your arms, one hand on your hip, the other holding the marker up like a teacher about to deliver a pop quiz. "Do you know why?"

Logan’s gaze swept over you, taking in the way you’d planted your feet and stuck a pen behind your ear in your 'professor mode.' “Because you’re ovulatin’ or somethin’? Or tryin’ not to? Hell, I don’t know what half this stuff means.”

You sighed, turning back to the giant whiteboard on the wall. It was cluttered with colorful timelines, reminders, and arrows pointing every which way, all carefully laid out for the IVF schedule. In hindsight, your meticulousness might have been a tad over the top, but you weren’t about to admit that now.

“It’s because we want to maximize the egg retrieval,” you explained, your tone firm but not unkind. “No sex three days before stimulation so it doesn’t mess with your—ugh, never mind. Just stick to the rules. I made this board so it’s clear.”

Behind you, Logan huffed, a warm, rumbling sound that made you turn sharply to find him grinning.

"What?" you asked, brow furrowing.

“You’re real cute when you’re like this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at you. "Hands on your hips, pen behind your ear—looks like you’re about to lecture me ‘bout quantum somethin’."

Your cheeks flushed instantly, but you steadied yourself, standing taller. “That’s because you’re not listening,” you fired back. "And I have been over this calendar twice. Maybe I should give you a quiz.”

Logan’s grin widened, his teeth flashing. “You gonna give me detention if I fail?"

Ignoring the heat rising to your face, you tilted your head in mock seriousness. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged, clearly enjoying this far more than he should. “Guess we’ll find out if I get somethin’ wrong.”

“Fine.” You capped the marker and tapped it against your hand like a gavel. "What’s the first thing you have to remember?”

Logan straightened slightly, locking eyes with you. “No sex three days before retrieval.”

You nodded, reluctantly impressed. “And after retrieval?”

“No sex for a week.”

“Why?” you pressed, though your voice lost some of its sternness.

“‘Cause it’s somethin’ about keepin’ the process steady—don’t wanna screw up your hormones or somethin’. You didn’t get this doctorate for me to screw it all up.”

You stared at him, unable to mask your surprise.

“Quit lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, although his smug grin didn’t waver. “Just ‘cause I’m lookin’ at you doesn’t mean I’m not payin’ attention.”

Taking a second to compose yourself, you finally nodded. “Fine, you passed.”

“But what about my detention?” His smirk turned wolfish, leaning just a fraction closer.

You stumbled over your words. “Is this—ugh, is this one of your… you know?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I don’t know, darlin’. What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You know!” you exclaimed, waving the pen for emphasis. “Your… fantasies or whatever it is you call them.”

His grin was practically sinful now. “Well, now it is.”

“Logan!”

“Relax, sweetheart.” His voice softened as he reached out to pluck the marker from your hand, setting it aside on the desk. His other hand slid to your hip, grounding you as he bent just low enough to kiss your forehead. "You’re doin’ great. And we’re gonna get through this—whiteboard rules and all."

You sighed, your tension easing slightly under his touch. “You’d better not fail me on this, Logan.”

“Never,” he said with an almost reverent sincerity, the teasing gleam in his eyes softened by something deeper. "You’re the one thing I’ve always been real good at keepin’ up with."

And damn it if he didn’t mean it.

---

Since today was the last day you could have sex before your retrieval in 4 days, you decided to surprise Logan. Though you weren’t sure if this was going to backfire on you or not, you thought you’d give it a try.

You had put on something that was the most stereotypical ‘teacher like’ outfit, a white button-up blouse, a black pencil skirt, and some small heels, and went through the regular motions of the school day.

Then, once classes were over, Logan came to your classroom instead of your office like you told him to earlier in the day.

Logan pushed the classroom door open, his shoulders broad and his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. His gaze swept over the rows of empty desks before it landed on you. You were sitting at your desk, legs crossed, glasses perched on your nose, and a teasing little smile playing at your lips. The whiteboard still had the day’s lesson scrawled across it, but you weren’t thinking about teaching anymore.

“This where you wanted me?” Logan asked, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You adjusted your glasses, standing up slowly. “Yes, Mr. Howlett. You’re late.”

His eyebrows lifted, the faintest smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t know this was official business.”

“Sit down,” you instructed, gesturing toward your chair behind the desk. “You’ve got some rules to follow if you’re going to avoid detention.”

Logan chuckled under his breath but obeyed, sauntering over and lowering himself into the chair. He sprawled comfortably, his legs spread wide, making it look far too small for him. “Alright, darlin’. What’s next?”

You stepped around the desk, your heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. “First,” you began, fingers going to the buttons of your blouse, “you’re not allowed to touch me. At all.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, his smirk growing into a full grin. “That so?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, undoing the top button of your blouse. His gaze tracked the movement like a predator watching its prey. “You’re here to listen and behave. Understand?”

“Guess I’ll behave,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You let the next few buttons fall open, revealing the delicate lace of your bra beneath. His sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed, but he kept his hands firmly on the arms of the chair, his knuckles tightening as you slipped the blouse off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

“Good,” you said softly, stepping closer. “Stay just like that.”

You moved your hands to the zipper of your pencil skirt, tugging it down slowly. The fabric pooled at your feet, leaving you standing there in nothing but your bra, panties, and those heels. Logan’s jaw flexed, and you could see the restraint it was taking for him to stay still.

“You’re tryin’ to kill me,” he muttered, his voice strained.

“I told you, no touching,” you reminded him, leaning down just enough to place your hands on the arms of the chair, your face inches from his. “Think you can handle that?”

Logan’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze locked on yours. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.”

You straightened up, taking your time to slip onto his lap. His hands twitched against the armrests, but he didn’t move them, his breathing ragged as you settled yourself over him, the heat between your thighs pressing against the denim of his jeans.

“See? You’re doing great,” you teased, trailing your fingers along his jawline. He let out a low growl, but his hands stayed put.

“You’re evil,” he said, his voice thick with want.

“Maybe,” you replied, reaching between your bodies to undo his belt. His hips jerked slightly, but he stayed obedient, watching as you unzipped his jeans and pushed them down just enough to free him. He was already hard, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“Not so evil now, huh?” Logan quipped, but his breath hitched as you slid your panties to the side, positioning yourself over him.

“Remember,” you whispered, lowering yourself slowly. “No touching.”

Logan let out a low curse, his head falling back against the chair as you took him in. His hands clenched the armrests tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the effort of keeping them there.

“Darlin’, you’re killin’ me here,” he rasped, his voice rough and shaky.

You started to move, your hips rolling slowly against his. The friction sent shivers through your body, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. Logan’s eyes were locked on yours, dark and hungry, but his hands didn’t budge.

“You’re so good at this,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jaw. He growled low in his throat, his self-control hanging by a thread.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, his hips bucking up into you. “How’m I supposed to just sit here?”

“Discipline,” you teased, your breath warm against his ear. “Isn’t that what detention’s all about?”

Logan let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained and desperate. “You’re enjoyin’ this way too much.”

You didn’t answer, your movements quickening as heat coiled low in your stomach. The sound of his ragged breathing filled the room, mingling with your own gasps. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body taut with tension as he fought the urge to touch you.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered, your voice catching as your rhythm faltered. Logan’s eyes softened briefly, the teasing gleam replaced with something deeper.

“So are you,” he managed, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly you thought they might snap. “But I’m about to lose it here.”

You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Not yet,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him softly. He groaned into your mouth, his restraint finally breaking as his hands left the armrests and gripped your hips, holding you firmly against him.

“That’s it,” he growled, guiding your movements now, his strength taking over. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was all heat and desperation.

The classroom faded away, the only thing that mattered was him—the way he filled you, the way he moved, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. And when you finally tumbled over the edge together, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you knew this was worth every moment of waiting.

Breathless and trembling, you rested your forehead against his, your glasses askew. “So much for following the rules,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Rules are overrated anyway.”

---

“Honey, if you can’t do it, I can. It’s just a little needle.” You said, holding your hand out for the needle, a simple hormone injection that has to be done before the embryo transfer.

Logan stood a few feet away, the needle in his hand looking laughably small against his thick fingers. His jaw was tight, and his brows knitted together in a way that made him look like he was contemplating defusing a bomb instead of giving you a hormone injection.

“I can do it,” he said gruffly, though his eyes darted between the syringe and your exposed stomach like he didn’t quite believe himself.

You softened at his hesitation, lowering your hand. “It’s okay if you’re nervous. I can just—”

“I’m not nervous,” Logan interrupted quickly, his voice firm but not unkind. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite the situation. “Logan, I get stabbed with needles all the time. This is nothing.”

He shot you a look. “Not the same.”

You tilted your head, watching him as his eyes lingered on the syringe. His hands didn’t tremble—Logan was steady, always—but there was a vulnerability in his posture that made your heart ache. This was the same man who had faced armies, wars, and unimaginable pain, yet here he was, worried about causing you the smallest discomfort.

“Logan,” you said softly, reaching for his free hand. He let you take it, his rough palm engulfing yours. “You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.”

His gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, he just stared. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded. “Alright, darlin’. Let’s do this.”

You leaned back slightly on the edge of the couch, pulling up your shirt to expose your stomach. Logan crouched down in front of you, the syringe still in his hand. He studied the instructions you’d written out earlier—meticulous as always—before glancing back at you.

“This the spot?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

You nodded, resting a hand on his shoulder for support. “Right there.”

Logan’s hand hovered over your skin for a moment before he finally pressed the needle in with careful precision. It stung, but not enough to make you flinch. His gaze stayed fixed on the syringe, his focus unshakable as he slowly pushed the medication in.

“All done,” he murmured after a moment, pulling the needle away. He pressed a cotton ball gently against your skin, his hand lingering just a little longer than necessary. “That okay?”

“Perfect,” you assured him, your smile warm. “See? Told you it was nothing.”

Logan scoffed lightly as he stood, disposing of the syringe. “Didn’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

You reached for his hand again, pulling him back toward you. He let himself be guided, standing between your knees as you looked up at him. “You did great.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, but his eyes were still searching yours, as if looking for any sign that he might have done something wrong. When he found nothing but sincerity, he finally relaxed.

“You’re a hell of a lot braver than me, you know that?” he said, his voice soft.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I don’t know about that. You’ve done way scarier things.”

“Not like this,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “This is new.”

You leaned into his touch, your hand covering his. “We’re in it together, Logan. Every step.”

He nodded, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Together,” he echoed. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the last few years lifted, leaving just the two of you in the quiet. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but it was enough. And that was all you needed.

---

“I think the mansion is haunted.” Rogue said. “There is no way ya haven’t heard the creakin’ in the night!”

Bobby rolled his eyes, “it’s probably just the AC or someone walking in the hallways.”

Kitty looked over at you as you graded things in your classroom. Though the three of them weren’t technically students anymore and had ‘graduated high school’, they still lived at the mansion because they were X-Men.

“Y/N, do you believe in ghosts?” Kitty asked.

You looked up from your papers, a red pen twirling idly in your fingers, as Kitty’s question hung in the air. The corners of your mouth twitched with curiosity at the way all three of them had their eyes fixed on you—Kitty looking earnest, Rogue mildly skeptical, and Bobby wearing his usual mask of rationality.

“Ghosts?” you echoed, tilting your head. “I don’t know if I’d call them ghosts, exactly.”

“That’s not a no,” Kitty pointed out, leaning forward on her desk as if your opinion held the weight of undeniable truth.

You tapped the pen against your chin thoughtfully. “There’s a theory,” you began, slipping into your natural cadence as a teacher, “about residual energy in spaces where intense events have happened. That energy could, in theory, manifest in ways that we interpret as paranormal.”

Kitty nodded enthusiastically while Rogue crossed her arms, clearly unsure. “What about creakin’ floorboards? That doesn’t sound like ‘residual energy.’”

“Well,” you conceded with a small smile, “this mansion is over a century old, and wood expands and contracts with changes in temperature.”

Bobby smirked. “Told you.”

Kitty huffed. “Yeah, but what about the piano playing by itself? Bobby doesn’t even believe me about that!”

“Probably one of the students pulling a prank,” Bobby retorted with a shrug.

“Or an actual ghost,” Kitty shot back, lifting her chin defiantly.

The sound of Logan clearing his throat from the doorway drew everyone’s attention. “What’re we talkin’ about?” he asked, stepping inside with his usual lazy saunter, his eyes cutting to you instinctively.

“Ghosts,” Rogue said flatly. “Kitty thinks the mansion’s haunted.”

Logan chuckled low in his chest, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Haunted, huh? Sounds like you kids’ve been watchin’ too many movies.”

“It’s not just movies!” Kitty protested, turning to him. “Y/N agrees there could be something! Residual energy or whatever.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you, one eyebrow raising in question. You shrugged lightly, “how ‘bout this. We meet here at midnight and go ‘ghost hunting’. I’ll prove that it’s just residual energy so Rogue doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“Ghost hunting, huh?” Logan drawled.

You shrugged lightly, capping your red pen. “Why not? Might as well settle this once and for all so Rogue can sleep without thinking she’ll get haunted.”

“Hey, I never said I was scared!” Rogue interjected quickly, her Southern drawl edging her words. “I just think there’s somethin’ weird goin’ on.”

Kitty grinned, nudging her playfully. “Sure, you’re not scared.”

Bobby leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “This is gonna be a waste of time. But fine, I’ll come. Someone’s gotta keep you all from freaking out over creaky floorboards.”

You pushed your glasses up, a small smirk playing at your lips. “Alright, it’s settled. Midnight. Bring whatever you think you’ll need—flashlights, cameras, whatever—and I’ll bring some equipment from the lab.”

Kitty’s eyes lit up. “Like an EMF detector? And maybe a thermometer?”

“Exactly,” you confirmed. “We’ll keep it scientific, not superstitious.”

Logan snorted softly, pushing off the doorway. “You’ve got this whole thing planned, don’t you?”

“I do,” you said simply, already mentally organizing the tools you’d need. “And you’re coming too.”

“Didn’t say I wasn’t,” Logan replied with a shrug. “Just think it’s funny how serious you’re takin’ this.”

Rogue shot him a look. “You’re not gonna ruin it for us, are ya?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Logan said with a smirk, but his eyes flicked back to you, his expression softening.

---

At exactly midnight, the group gathered in the classroom, flashlights in hand. Kitty and Rogue had brought a handheld camera and an audio recorder, while Bobby carried what looked like an oversized camping flashlight. You walked in with a small case of lab equipment, Logan trailing behind you like your ever-present shadow.

“Alright,” you said, setting the case on your desk and opening it. “We’ve got an EMF detector, a digital thermometer, and a few other tools to measure environmental changes. If there’s anything abnormal, we’ll catch it.”

Kitty practically bounced on her toes. “This is so cool. I feel like we’re in a movie.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning casually against the desk. “Let’s hope it’s not the kind where everyone dies.”

“Logan,” you warned, giving him a pointed look.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just sayin’.”

You divided the equipment among the group, handing the thermometer to Kitty and the EMF detector to Rogue. “We’ll start in the east wing,” you said, adjusting your glasses. “That’s where Kitty said she heard the piano, right?”

Kitty nodded vigorously. “I swear, it was playing by itself.”

Logan’s lips twitched, but he said nothing, letting you take the lead as the group headed down the dimly lit hallway.

---

The east wing was quiet—eerily so. The air felt heavier, the old wood creaking beneath your feet as you moved through the corridor. Kitty had her camera rolling, and Rogue was carefully monitoring the EMF detector, though so far, it hadn’t picked up anything unusual.

“So, what’s this ‘residual energy’ thing you mentioned earlier?” Bobby asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. “It’s the idea that strong emotions or events can leave an imprint on a place. It’s not a ghost in the traditional sense, but more like… a recording of something that happened before.”

“Like an echo,” Kitty added, her eyes wide.

“Exactly,” you said with a nod. “It’s one explanation for paranormal activity.”

“Or it’s just people imaginin’ things,” Logan muttered.

“Not helping,” you shot back, though your tone was more amused than annoyed.

The group reached the end of the hallway, where a grand piano sat in the corner of an old parlor. The room was bathed in shadows, the faint moonlight streaming through the large windows.

“This is it,” Kitty whispered, her camera trained on the piano.

Rogue glanced at the EMF detector, which remained stubbornly still. “Nothin’ so far.”

You stepped closer to the piano, pulling the thermometer from your pocket. The temperature was steady, no sudden drops or spikes that might indicate something unusual.

“Well?” Logan asked, his voice low.

“No signs of residual energy,” you said, your tone thoughtful. “But let’s—”

A sudden noise interrupted you—a faint, melodic note from the piano.

Everyone froze.

“What the hell?” Bobby muttered, his flashlight beam darting around the room.

Kitty clutched her camera tightly. “I told you! I told you it plays by itself!”

Logan straightened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped in front of you instinctively. “Alright, what’s goin’ on here?”

You moved closer to the piano, studying it carefully. “It could be the strings,” you murmured, leaning down to inspect the inner workings. “If they’re loose, they might vibrate on their own.”

“Or it’s a ghost,” Kitty said, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

You glanced at her, adjusting your glasses. “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.”

Another note echoed through the room, this one softer, almost mournful.

Rogue’s grip on the EMF detector tightened. “It’s doin’ it again.”

Logan’s eyes darted around the room, his posture tense. “Alright, fun’s over. Let’s wrap this up before someone gets spooked.”

Kitty frowned. “But we just—”

“Logan’s right,” you said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got enough data to analyze. Let’s head back.”

Reluctantly, the group agreed, though Kitty and Rogue exchanged skeptical looks as you packed up the equipment. Logan stayed close to you, his protective instincts clearly on high alert.

As you walked back down the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to hear another note. But the mansion remained silent, the mystery of the piano lingering in the air like an unsolved equation.

“Ghosts or not,” Logan murmured as the two of you trailed behind the others, “you’re braver than me for stickin’ your nose in somethin’ like this.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his. “It’s just science, Logan.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’,” he said, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and affection. “But if that piano starts chasin’ us, I’m not stickin’ around to fight it.”

---

Two weeks after the embryo transfer your pregnancy test came back negative.

You stared at the single line on the stick, your throat tight as the bathroom tile seemed to blur and shift under your feet. The tiny piece of plastic felt unbearably heavy in your hand. You’d tried so hard not to get your hopes up this time, to remind yourself that IVF wasn’t a guarantee. But after years of trying—after Clomid, after IUI, after the miscarriage—it had been nearly impossible not to hope.

Logan’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Sweetheart?” His knock was soft but insistent against the bathroom door. “You alright in there?”

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah,” you managed, though your voice sounded foreign even to your own ears. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

He didn’t push, but you knew he wouldn’t leave either. Logan never did when he thought you needed him.

You took a shaky breath and forced yourself to move. You wrapped the test in some tissue and tossed it into the trash, then splashed cold water on your face. When you opened the door, Logan was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression as steady as it always was—but there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart ache.

He didn’t say anything, just stepped closer and waited. You shook your head slightly, and that was all he needed. His arms were around you in an instant, holding you close as you buried your face in his chest. The tears came then, hot and fast, and he let you cry, his hand moving gently over your back.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out after a moment, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Don’t,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “Don’t you dare apologize for this.”

You tried to say something else, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Logan didn’t press, just pulled you back into his arms and held you tighter, as if he could shield you from the weight of the disappointment pressing down on you both.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Logan stayed close, finding small ways to comfort you without making it obvious. He brewed your favorite tea, even though he always grumbled about the smell of chamomile. He didn’t say a word when you spent an hour re-organizing the bookshelf in the living room, one of your favorite ways to distract yourself when you didn’t want to think too hard. And when the two of you finally went to bed that night, he wrapped himself around you like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces together.

---

The next morning, Jean found you in the kitchen, staring blankly into your coffee mug. She didn’t need to ask how it went—your face told her everything she needed to know.

“Oh, Y/N,” she said softly, pulling out the chair next to you. “I’m so sorry.”

You forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Jean.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her tone gentle but never pitying. It was one of the things you appreciated most about her—she never treated you like you were fragile, even when you felt like you might shatter.

You hesitated, then shrugged. “There’s not much to say. It didn’t work. Again.”

Jean reached across the table and squeezed your hand. “I know how hard this is,” she said. “But you’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling right now. You don’t have to hold it together all the time.”

Her words broke something loose in you, and before you knew it, you were spilling everything—the years of trying, the heartbreak of the miscarriage, the hope you’d tried so hard to suppress this time. Jean listened without interrupting, her hand a steady anchor in yours.

When you finally stopped, she gave your hand one last squeeze. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” she said. “And you’re not alone in this. Logan, me, everyone—we’re here for you.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Thanks, Jean.”

“Anytime,” she said with a small smile. “Now, how about I make us some breakfast? You look like you could use something other than coffee.”

You let her bustle around the kitchen, the simple, familiar act grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

---

That evening, Logan found you in your shared office, your glasses perched on your nose as you stared at a stack of papers you weren’t really grading. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you for a moment before speaking.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know,” he said.

You looked up, frowning slightly. “Do what?”

“Act like everything’s fine,” he said, his voice low but steady. “It’s okay to feel like shit, darlin’. Hell, I feel like shit too.”

His honesty caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Then, with a sigh, you took off your glasses and set them on the desk. “I just don’t know what else to do, Logan,” you admitted. “If I stop moving, I feel like I’ll fall apart.”

He crossed the room in a few strides, crouching in front of your chair so he could look you in the eye. “Then let me catch you,” he said simply.

You blinked, the tears welling up again despite your best efforts. “Logan—”

“I mean it,” he said, his hands resting gently on your knees. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure it out, one way or another. But right now, you don’t gotta be strong. Just let me be strong enough for the both of us, alright?”

You nodded, your voice too thick with emotion to respond. Logan stood, pulling you into his arms, and for the first time that day, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d get through this. Together.

---

You and Jean had gone to see your fertility doctor, mostly for the two week check up since the embryo transfer.

When Jean drove the two of you back to the mansion, Dr. Harper’s words rang in your head, over and over.

“We can try again, but I’m going to be honest. My medical opinion is that continuing down this path may yield diminishing returns. That’s not to say there’s no hope—we absolutely could continue to try—but I want to make sure we’re balancing hope with your overall well-being. I know you are a person based on facts, and I’m sure you know that once you hit your early 30’s, your fertility starts to slowly decline. Given that you’re already having a hard time… the choice is yours.”

The truth was, you were getting older. Everything Dr. Harper said was true, and you hated that you couldn’t argue with her. If you hadn’t been able to get pregnant at 28, why would anything be different now? You stared out the car window, watching the trees blur together as Jean drove back to the mansion. Her presence was steady, calm, just like always, but you could feel her glancing at you every so often, as though trying to gauge whether you were on the verge of breaking.

“You’re quiet,” Jean said softly, breaking the silence.

You adjusted your glasses, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m just… processing.”

Jean nodded, her hands steady on the wheel. “Take your time.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the engine. Then you sighed, resting your forehead against the window. “It’s just—what if it doesn’t happen, Jean? What if this is it? We’ve tried everything.”

Jean pulled into the driveway and put the car in park before turning to face you. “I can’t pretend to know how you’re feeling, Y/N. But you’re not alone in this. Logan loves you, and no matter what happens, that won’t change.”

Her words should have been comforting, and maybe they were, but they didn’t erase the ache in your chest. You gave her a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Jean.”

She reached over, squeezing your hand. “You’re stronger than you think. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the car. The mansion loomed in front of you, its familiar silhouette both a comfort and a reminder of all the life happening inside its walls—life that felt so out of reach for you.

---

The evening was unusually quiet, with the kind of stillness that felt heavy rather than comforting. You sat in your office, papers scattered in front of you, though your focus was anywhere but on them. You twirled your pen absently, watching the slow circles it traced on the desktop.

Logan leaned in the doorway, his usual casual stance—arms crossed, shoulders slightly slouched—but his eyes were sharp, locked on you like he could see through the calm façade you were trying to maintain.

"You’ve been quiet all day, sweetheart," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Somethin’s eating at you."

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip as you adjusted your glasses. "Logan, I…" You set the pen down, unable to meet his gaze. "I need to talk to you about something. It’s… it’s important."

That got him moving. He crossed the room in a few strides, crouching in front of you like he often did when he wanted your full attention. His hands settled gently on your knees, his thumbs brushing idle circles.

"Whatever it is," he said, his voice low and reassuring, "just tell me. You don’t have to go through it alone."

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage you didn’t feel. "I went to see Dr. Harper today," you began, forcing your eyes to meet his. "She said… she said we could keep trying if we want to, but the odds are getting lower. IVF isn’t working. She was honest with me—she said my chances aren’t great. And I know she’s right, Logan. I feel it every time."

His expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of something behind his eyes—hurt, maybe, or frustration. Not at you, but at the situation. He stayed silent, waiting for you to finish.

"I’m tired," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how much more I can take—physically or emotionally. But if you want to keep trying, we can. I… I just needed to tell you how I feel."

Logan was quiet for a moment, his hands still on your knees, grounding you. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Darlin’, you’ve done more than anyone could ever expect. You’ve put yourself through hell tryin’ to make this work—for us. And if you’re sayin’ you’re ready to stop… then we stop."

Tears welled in your eyes, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "You’re sure?"

He smiled softly, the kind of smile that was rare from him but filled with nothing but love. "I’m sure. What I want more than anything is for you to be okay. You’re all that matters to me—you always have been. Kids or no kids, that ain’t ever gonna change."

You broke then, leaning forward as he wrapped his arms around you. The tears came fast, but they weren’t all from sadness. There was relief, too—a heavy weight lifted from your shoulders after years of carrying it alone.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice breaking.

"I love you too," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And no matter what, we’ll get through this. Together."

The papers on your desk went forgotten as Logan pulled you closer, holding you in the kind of embrace that told you, without words, that you would always have him—and that was enough.

that is 2009!

i felt like after so many years of trying for a baby, it would get tiring with no progress. and even as a writer, i knew there was only so much i could write about them trying. but of course, we know they have gabby in the future, so don't worry about that!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 months ago

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Tour of Dreams

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!wife!teacher!reader

Summary: Your class takes a special field trip to SWAT HQ and your husband Deacon makes the tour especially memorable.

Warnings: Hondo, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

In the early morning peace of your classroom, you erase the large purple 2 on your whiteboard and replace it with a 1. Your class has been learning about the government recently. Because of the shared success in naming the three branches on the most recent quiz, you reward them with a small field trip. LAPD SWAT was more than happy to host your class and give them a tour of their headquarters.

You smile as you sort through your notes for the day. The kids will undoubtedly be excited about tomorrow’s trip, but there are a few things you need to get done today. Your phone buzzes with an incoming message, and your smile brightens when you see who it’s from. Rather than answering, you press your husband’s contact to call him.

“Good morning,” Deacon greets when he answers. “Were you going to tell me about tomorrow’s field trip?”

“I was going to, but you’ve been really busy. I talked to Hicks and he said it was okay,” you reply softly.

“Oh, of course it is,” Deacon insists. “I was just calling to ask if you need a tour guide.”

“Really?” you ask, thrilled by the idea. “You would do that?”

“Absolutely. They’re good kids, and… well, to tell you the truth, I’m in love with their teacher.”

“I- we would love to have you with us,” you answer. “And their teacher loves you too.”

Deacon sighs and murmurs, “That’s a relief.”

You laugh at his response, then ask, “Do I need to change anything? I made the plans with Hicks and don’t want to put you out.”

“He went over it with me, everything’s good. We’ll see you tomorrow, same time, same place.”

“Okay, awesome. Thank you, David.”

“Of course. I thought you were doing a pizza party for them.”

“I let them pick between a local field trip to visit one of the government branches or a pizza party. They chose the executive branch.”

“You’re a good teacher.”

“You’re a good sergeant.”

“Hey, I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“Thank you. Be safe today.”

“Always. I love you.”

“I love you.”

You end the call and return to the board. After surrounding the trip countdown with hand-drawn confetti, you begin readying the classroom for your students.

“Alright, what are we going to be?” you ask your students in SWAT’s parking lot.

“Respectful,” they answer together.

You smile and nod, then ensure everyone stands with their assigned buddy.

“Good morning!” Deacon calls as he exits the station.

“Good morning!” your students reply.

“I am SWAT Sergeant Kay, but you can call me Deacon,” he introduces himself. “I heard you’re here to see the executive branch in action?”

Your students nod excitedly, and Deacon sends you a smile. The gate behind you lifts, and a grey Charger pulls in.

“Mrs. Kay!” Hondo yells as he exits the driver’s side. “And Mrs. Kay’s class!”

“This is my team leader, Sergeant Harrelson,” Deacon tells the kids. “We work together with a few other officers to go into dangerous places and help people.”

“Hicks didn’t tell us it was your class,” Hondo whispers as he stops beside you.

“I don’t know how Deacon found out,” you reply quietly. “I was trying not to bother you guys.”

Hondo drops his smile and raises a brow. “I know you did not just say that.”

“It’s Friday,” you remind him, tapping him with your elbow. “Leading a field trip probably isn’t the ideal way to end the week.”

“As opposed to what? Getting shot at?”

“Mrs. Kay?” one of the students closest to you calls.

“Yes, Remy?” you reply, stepping toward her.

“Why doesn’t SWAT use regular police cars?”

“That is a great question,” you say. “Let’s ask Sergeant Kay.”

Deacon smiles as Remy raises her hand, then asks, “Yes?”

“Hi,” Remy begins softly. “I just wanted to ask why you don’t use regular police cars.”

“Excellent question,” Deacon responds. “Because we go into dangerous situations, we have to use cars and trucks that can help protect us. And, sometimes, we don’t want people to know that we are the police because it might make them scared or angry. We have to protect the people around us.”

“Thank you,” Remy says.

“Of course. Are there any other questions before we go inside?”

Hondo raises his hand, and Deacon looks straight past him. He drops his hand and turns to you with a pout.

“Yes?” you inquire as you follow your class into the building.

“Are you coming to family dinner tomorrow?”

“Have I ever missed?”

“Yes.”

“The first week after we met doesn’t count.”

“Ask Luca if it counts.”

“This is our training area,” Deacon says as you shake your head. “SWAT officers have to be ready to run, lift things, and help people at any moment. So, we work out and help each other prepare for our job.”

“How much weight can you lift?” a student asks.

“Yeah, Mrs. Kay, how much weight can he lift?” someone repeats beside you.

You smile as you look at Street. “More than you.”

“Ow.”

“We’re not going to warn you again, kid,” Hondo tells him. “Don’t start with her.”

“Hey!” Luca greets you, wrapping you in a quick hug. “I heard you were bringing the class by today.”

“Next,” Deacon continues. “We’re going to see the situation room. That’s where we find out what we’re doing, who we’re looking for, and it gives us a chance to talk about the day.”

Kelsie, one of your quieter students, raises her hands. Deacon points at her and offers a kind smile, so she asks, “Is it like our bell work?”

Your husband looks at you, and you say, “Yeah, Kelsie! That��s a really cool connection. During bell time, we talk about what we're doing that day and make sure everyone has what they need for the day.”

“Exactly what we do in the situation room,” Hondo adds.

Hondo, Street, and Luca excuse themselves, and you join the front of your group. The parent chaperones keep everyone in order as you join Deacon’s side to answer a few more questions. The tour is better than expected, and you have your husband to thank.

As you return to the training area and Deacon finishes the tour, you prepare to lead your students back to the bus.

“There’s one more thing that is important and necessary in SWAT operations,” Deacon says. “Would you like to see it?”

Your class cheers before they remember your instructions to respect the people working and quiets quickly. They nod, excited, as Deacon leads them toward the door.

“What’s up, everybody?” Luca calls. “You’re about to see something that is very special to me. I’m Officer Luca, 20-David’s resident driver.”

“What do you drive?” several kids ask simultaneously.

Luca leads them around the corner and reveals, “This is Black Betty. She’s a type of APC, or armored personnel carrier. That means we can put our team in the back and drive into very dangerous places, but still be protected.”

“We take Black Betty almost everywhere we go,” Deacon adds.

“Whoa!” the kids exclaim as the lights come on.

Street exits the driver’s seat and opens the rear double doors.

“Who wants to stand inside and see what she looks like?” Luca asks.

All your students raise their hands, and you walk to Deacon’s side as they follow Luca in a single file line to take turns.

“Thank you,” you say.

“It was just a tour,” Deacon replies.

“No, it wasn’t. You made their year. I have no doubt a few of them will be telling me about their dream careers of being SWAT officers next week.”

“You’ve got a couple promising recruits.”

You smile and watch Street and Luca play with your students as they climb in and out of Black Betty.

“So, how much can you lift?” you tease.

“Enough,” Deacon replies.

“That’s exactly what she said,” Hondo interjects. “You know, I’ve always heard opposites attract, so if you ever-“

“I know where to find you, yes,” you interrupt. “Keep this up and I’ll tell Luca you uninvited me from family dinner.”

“Ooh!” Street yells. “Sorry, that was so loud. But, you deserved it, Hondo.”

“Can we turn on the sirens?” Remy asks Deacon.

He looks at Luca, who smiles and nods. You watch Deacon lift her into the driver’s seat and show her the switch to turn the sirens on with a smile.

“You made dinner,” Deacon says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You turn in his hold and smile. “Well, after all the hard work you did today, it’s the least I could do.”

Deacon shakes his head before he kisses you. Being a tour guide has never been a duty he’s enjoyed, but with you and your class, he thinks he could do it daily and not get tired.

“Thank you again,” you say.

“Any time,” Deacon promises before pulling you closer.

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #deacon kay fluff #swat imagine #swat fic #swat x reader #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

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syntheticcy · 3 months ago

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Overworked and Underwhelmed (Reboot! Wally ongoing fic)

You arrive at the library, clutching a book in your hands. You've been studying it almost every day for an exam you've already taken twice. If you fail one more time, you'll fail the class! Not to mention, you'll have to enroll next semester and take on another loan.

You find a table at the back of the library, near a window. There's some random guy at the end of it, just silently scrolling on his phone. Completely ignoring his books and papers. You decide to disregard him and make your way to the other end of the table. Sitting by the exit, you take out your laptop, notebook, and pen.

You try to get to studying, yet you can't focus. It feels like time has stopped and everything is so quiet that it feels loud. You tap your foot and grab a pair of headphones, slipping them on and connecting them to your phone. You play a random song and just space out.

Forgetting why you're even in the library in the first place! Everything is so boring and aggravatingly slow. You snap out of it once you hear a chair being pulled out. A girl sits at the table, merely a few chairs away. Holding a physics book. Soundlessly mumbling while reading. Your roll your eyes and try to do the same with your notes.

You finally crack open your notebook and sigh, already tense just by skimming the pages. You look back at your laptop and go over the same stupid questions you've struggled with all semester. It's a shock you've been able to keep yourself afloat in this class with such an low score— the lowest score in the class.

The simple thought makes you grip your laptop, and grit your teeth. With your beat-up notebook and an old pen that barely has any ink, you attempt to write out some more notes and try a practice test. Painfully focusing on each question and working it out in your head and on paper. After some time, you think you've finally got it.

You click submit, watching the screen ffilmer to white. A small dotted circle pops up, bubbling around. Its taking a minutes to load, maybe you got a perfect score? Or maybe its just a poor wifi connection. Still, the tiny insignificant thought fills you with joy. The corners of your lips start to turn up, just a bit however.

You know you can't get your hopes up, your honestly hopeless. Still, your hard expression softens up, maybe you've finally done it. Maybe your not hopeless after all! Your heart starts to swell and hope fills soul, that is until you get a connection error pop up. You let out an annoyed groan and cry out.

"Are you kidding me?!" Immediately, you hear a loud "Shh" and you cover your mouth. Apologizing as you shut off your wifi and turn it back on. As the page finally loads your slight smile fades. Zero across the board. You hit your head against your notebook and shut your eyes. Taking a minute to recover. It takes everything to give up and go home.

You go over the answers and take notes, rereading the notes over and over. You even go the extra mile and rip out some page and redo them completely. Your brain feels like it's being turned to sludge with how much you're reading and writing the same thing over and over. After some more minutes you try again with another practice test.

Yet as soon as you look at the first question. You forget everything you just read, let alone wrote.. How shameful. Isn't this your passion? Why doesn't the material seem to stick with you? What are you doing wrong? And why can't you figure out the issue? You've tried reading the textbooks, making flashcards, having someone quiz you, reading out loud;

Trying online quizzes, staying after class, asking in-depth questions, and just so much more. Every time you think you've finally got it. That you've finally figured it out. You immediately get the answers wrong. Just thinking about it makes you want to scream. You close your laptop and put your head down.

Why can't you understand? Why can't you just sit down and comprehend what's been given to you? What's been said to you over a million times, what's been EXPLAINED to you over and over again. You rub your temples, feeling all your pent-up emotions bubble up to the top. Covering your head with your arms, you struggle to steady your breathing.

There has to be a way to get it. There's just something your doing wrong. There's a reason, why can't you figure out the reason?! Tears of frustration sting your eyes, threatening to spill out. Unbeknownst to you, a soft sob slips out from your lips. Midterms are right around the corner, and you still haven't progress in this class.

Your lack of comprehension skills are going to be the death of you. It all just seems so useless. What's the point of trying when you know you'll fail? Why do you keep trying to pursue a dying passion project? Why won't you just choose a normal blue collar job? It's stable and has a better income. But this is your life, all you've ever wanted is so close.

Barely within your reach. You just need to pass this stupid class and these horrid tests! On the verge of bawling your eyes out, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder. You take a minute to recover, and you can hear a chair being pulled over. "Hey.. Are- Are you okay?" A hushed and mannish voice whispers to you.

You struggle to grab a hold of yourself for a moment. Softly murmuring an excuse in hopes of being left alone. "M'fine, only tired." The person pauses and nervously places a hand in your shoulder again. "Do you need some water? Maybe a tissue?" He continues, pushing for a genuine reply. You wipe your eyes.

If you knew them, you'd probably find it comforting. But all you can feel is shame. "I'm fine, just.. Studying. I guess." You lift your head and look at whoever's speaking to you. As your blurry vision comes to, you see messy blueish hair and a concerned expression. You make a face before it clicks. It's the guy who was on his phone!

He looks kinda familiar, but you can't quite place your finger on it. Then again he is just some semi-generic guy, you've probably seen him around campus. You push away the odd feelings of déjà vu, more focused on the conversation at hand. He leans closer, speaking quieter. "Are you sure? Your uh, you were crying."

His voice is harder to hear now, not to mention a little strained. You sit up more, fixing your posture. "I'm just overwhelmed, right now." He makes a face and goes to rub your knee. Yet, you scoot away. Finding his actions a little unnerving and honestly, kinda pushy. While you appreciate the sentiments, this guy doesn't seem to really get boundaries.

He frowns slightly but keeps a sympathetic tone. "If you don't mind me asking, what's gotten you so worked up? I doubt it's just studying." You rest your head on your wrist, choking down the shame and anxiety. "It's not *that* serious, I'm just... having a hard time with class, right now."

You mumble, hoping he doesn't notice how tense you are. Wally's expression tightens up, and his eyes dart over to the notebook you shoved aside. He picks it up and leans back. Cracking it open, as if it's his own notebook. "Are these your notes?" His expression becomes unreasonable and iffy.

All you know is it's not a positive one by any means. You debate snatching your notebook from him but reluctantly, you nod. Hoping he puts the damn thing down. Wally looks back at the pages and squints. "Hmm..." He turns his gaze to the crumbled-up papers next to you.

Spotting all half-written, sloppy, and semi-incoherent notes you've written. "You know.." He pauses, turning away, grimacing. His turmoil is painfully visible to you. You hold your head in your hands, asking why you're even in the library at this point. Hell, why are you even in college?

If these are supposed to be the "best years" of your life, then it's probably best you give up hope now and find the nearest rope. The guy tries to pat your back as he clears his throat. Making you look around for the quickest exit. "If you need help," The man mutters, "I can try to tutor you." You raise a brow. "You can tutor me? Have you taken this class before?"

He chuckles and shakes his hand in a "so-so" motion. "Sort of, I'm taking the same class." He says proudly as he beams. Awaiting your response, only to receive a faint "Hm." You're not really religious, but a leering feeling makes you second guess that decision. And oddly enough you pray this man leaves the library.

Noticing how... Eager you are for him to tutor you, he quickly he spills his "credentials". "I'm passing the class, I have one of the highest grades." He pauses, nervously hoping for you to say something. When he's met with unbearably uncomfortable silence he tosses an arm around you and attempts to pull you closer.

Sputtering out and struggling to keep his voice down. "I also tutor people in that class already! I-I usually work for a fee- But for you, I'll tutor you for free!" He smiles, his lips quivering. You shutter and sink into your seat. "You're going tutor me? For free? Is this a prank?" You murmur skeptically.

The man tenses and makes another face. "What? No!" He sighs and softens his voice again. "Look, I just want to help you. You're having a bad time studying and I figured I could help. We have the same class, twice a week!" He nearly pleads, trying to get you to face him as he blabs on.

"We share a study group! The 'Weekly Sit Down' one. You know, the group chat that never shuts off? I go to it on weekends and sometimes Fridays." You stop trying to escape from this random dude and it finally clicks. You have seen this guy! It's that Walter guy. You tried a few Friday sessions with the group and you saw Warren sitting by that Julie chick.

Walden was kinda funny when he wasn't near you. Waldo spoke a lot about music and theatre. Maybe this Willy guy is better when he's on stage and not speaking to you. But now that you think about it, you think you might have seen someone that looks like him at the coffee shop you frequent. The more you look at Winston;

Or whatever his name is, starts to kinda look like the professor's classroom assistant. Say, the more you think about this weirdo, he's almost like a constant background character for you! Maybe he's not as creepy as you originally thought. He's probably just trying to get by like you.

You blurt out a thought, perking up. "Hey, I think I have seen you around! You're that Willy guy who talks about theatre a lot, right?" The guy looks crushed, and he pulls back with a baffled expression. "My name is Wally." You cringe, it dawns on you that you never actually bothered to learn his name. Let alone thought about him enough to get interested in knowing him.

But at least you got the first part right? Well- almost right. Wally looks away and takes a deep breath. "Look, let's just- get back to what we were talking about." You nod, burying the cringe deep down. "Yeah, so, tutoring?" "Yeah, tutoring. I'll help you with whatever you need. Just call me Professor Darling!" You chuckle, what a peculiar guy.

"Professor 'Darling'? Is what your nickname now?" Wally leans back in his chair, holding up your notebook still. "Yup, that's me. Wally, Wally Darling. But to you, it's Professor Darling." You roll your eyes and smile, lightly mocking him. "Okay, Professor 'Darling'."

NOTES: OKAY SO I FINALLY FINISHED THIS, I'VE ALREADY POSTED ABOUT IT ENOUGH BUT I FINISHED IT AND I'M JUST SO HAPPY. I REALLY HOPE I CAN WRITE MORE THAN JUST A ONESHOT FOR THIS!! THANK YOU SO MUCH LAS, ZOMB, TAWNY, MOCHI, BEE, RIRI, AND JUST EVERYONE ELSE SO ENCOURGED ME TO KEEP WRITING!!! IT'S BEEN SO MUCH FUN AND I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE WELCOME HOME UPDATE!!! MY MANN IS COMING HOME SOON WOOOO!!!!!!

EDIT: Chapter two: Odd Dynamic

#reboot wally #welcome home au #wally darling #wally darling x reader #sort of #writing #fanfiction #i really like this one #Overworked and Underwhelmed

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blackmenkissing · 3 months ago

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Unspoken Lessons — fanfic of Mr Lawrence (nsfw)

Hiiiii guys so this is my first fanfic, please be kind cuz even I think this is buns,but if you're expecting something freaky,welp not in this :') I'm still working on chapter two but hey bottom line is; hey you reader? Are you HORNKNEE for Mr Lawrence? Same so gimme time alr,I'm still gooning lol.

Also if Mr Lawrence saw this...you didn't Doug.

Chapter 1: The First Meeting, Pt. 1

Monday mornings were always dreadful. You sat at the edge of your bed, dreading another day of school, when your phone chimed.

"Guys, Miss Donna won’t be at school for a month! Can you believe that?"

The group chat exploded. Some were happy about the unexpected break; others were worried.

"I heard there’s a new teacher taking over, but no one knows who it is yet."

You sighed, tossing your phone aside. It didn’t matter—as long as you survived the day.

After getting ready, you grabbed your bag and left, bidding a quick goodbye to your family. As you walked, a sleek black car came speeding toward you. You barely managed to jump back in time.

"Hey! Are you insane?!" you shouted, heart still pounding.

The car screeched to a stop, and a man stepped out—mid-20s, maybe early 30s, dressed sharply in a green button-up and beige slacks. His gaze was sharp, assessing.

"Be careful with that sharp mouth of yours, child, or I might have to do something about it." His voice was smooth yet firm, a quiet warning. Then, just as quickly, he got back into his car and drove off.

Fuming, you grabbed your shoe and hurled it at the vehicle. "I hope you get hit by a truck, you twink-looking bastard!"

A quick glance at your watch made your stomach drop. 7:05 AM. You cursed under your breath and sprinted to school, barely making it through the gates.

Inside the classroom, your friend greeted you. "Hey, have you heard about the new teacher? People say he’s strict."

You plopped onto your chair, still catching your breath. "I almost got hit by a car. Some jerk in a green shirt."

As soon as the words left your mouth, the classroom door slammed open.

A familiar bag landed on the teacher’s desk with a heavy thud.

Your blood ran cold.

No. No way. It can’t be…

"Alright, settle down," he said, scanning the room like a hawk. Then, his gaze locked onto you.

"You. The girl hiding under the desk," he called out. "Stand up. Now."

Whispers spread through the class as you reluctantly emerged.

"Well, isn’t it your unlucky day?" he mused, crossing his arms. "You’re staying after class. We have a bone to pick."

The room fell silent.

Douglas Lawrence. That was the name he wrote on the board. Mr. Douglas Lawrence, or as students quickly realized—Sir.

Someone asked his age. He answered bluntly, "56."

You nearly choked. He didn’t look a day over 30.

"Pop quiz," he announced, his voice carrying a sharp authority.

Groans echoed, but you remained silent. You were good at English, though you preferred to stay unnoticed. Unfortunately, Mr. Lawrence had other plans.

"You," he called out, eyes locked onto yours. "Miss Y/N, isn’t it?"

You nodded stiffly.

"You're quiet. But quiet doesn’t mean unnoticed."

He handed out the quiz, pausing slightly as he placed yours down. His fingers barely brushed the page, but the moment felt… charged. Like a challenge.

You finished in under 30 minutes, tapping your pen absentmindedly.

Mr. Lawrence took notice. Without a word, he swooped in and took your paper, scanning through it quickly. His expression didn’t change, but you saw the flicker of interest in his eyes.

"Everyone, Y/N is the first to finish." He turned back to you. "And she got a perfect score."

Your classmates gaped. You bit back a smile.

As the bell rang, students hurried out for lunch—except you.

"You. Stay."

You swallowed hard, sitting still as he approached.

"How did you get every question right?" he asked, suspicious.

"I… just knew the answers," you replied carefully. "And about earlier, I just—"

He cut you off. "If you’re going to apologize, save it. I don’t care for empty sorrys."

You clenched your jaw. He turned to leave but paused at the door.

"Next time, watch that pretty mouth of yours. Alright?"

His tone, his smirk—it was enough to make any girl flustered.

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you with a strange, unsettling feeling.

#mr lawrence #doug lawrence #fanfic #beginner writer

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creamcheesetaro · 3 months ago

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PAPER HEARTS

Suna Rintarou x Reader Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Drabble

What's the best way to pass time that involves your crush?

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Today was supposedly a normal weekend day. A Saturday morning as you play online games with your classmates. This Saturday though was brimming with your teacher’s doze-inducing voice as she rambled about advanced chemical equations. Yet the atmosphere in the room was heavy. After all, Mrs. Nara will be giving a remedial test as almost all of the students in your class botched her last quiz. So right now, this room is filled with students who are struggling to stay awake, seatmates who are drumming their desks, and the sounds of pen-tapping on their notebooks.

Yet, there was Suna.

Suna, who was busy scrolling in their phone- one headphone tucked in their ear.

Suna, whom you are majorly crushing on since he transferred- sat right beside you.

Suna, whose original seat was in front of you, had switched with the Osamu.

It was too much for your faint heart to take. You just hope he does not see the redness creeping up to your ears.

Your teacher cannot fault you if you have zero lessons retained after today.

As the lecture went on, your eyes tried to steal a glance at Suna. Whether by conveniently dropping your ballpen at your right, looking at the window, or stretching your neck, you cannot let this opportunity pass.

At one instance, when you ‘accidentally’ dropped your ballpen (your blue pen this time!), Suna hastily crouched down. His long fingers snatched your ballpen before you could even bend down.

“I’ll get it,” he offered, fingers brushing off on one another before placing it on top of your desk.

“Thanks,” you whispered, trying to contain the giddy smile grazing upon your lips.

Your heart pickens up. But it was not from your fingers touching.

Your eyes widen as he leaves a crumpled ¼ paper. You scan around the room to see if anyone is glancing in your direction. Once you had made sure none of them was looking, you slowly opened up the paper.

Something’s on my face?

You sucked a short breath.

This was the first time you guys talked without it being school-work related.

You know in your mind that this was also a moment you should seize. He initiated a conversation; the fates must have been showing you signs. It’s not like you have poured a small coin into a wishing pond for this moment to spur. Totally not!

So your eyes roam towards your right.

Suna’s face was still glued under his desk. It was at the count of 3 seconds where his face rose, green slanted eyes meeting yours. His eyebrows quirked up before gazing at the strip of paper on your fingers. His eyes met yours again that goads you to write back to him.

Feeling resolute, you crumpled the letter inside your hand. Flipping your notebook to the back, you were about to write back to him when the phone in your pocket suddenly rang loud enough for Mrs. Nara to hear.

All heads snapped back at you.

“Well Miss (L/n), kindly answer that outside,” your teacher kindly stated.

Your face heats up, and you avoid eye contact with the rest of the class as you skirted away from your desk and brisked until you were near the corridor of your classroom.

When you picked it up, you were surprised to be bombarded with screeching noise.

“Y/n! Tell Samu that he is DEAD to me!”

“Why would you call me for this Tsumu?!” you exasperatedly shushed.

“Cuz Samu won’t answer his phone so yer the next best person to relay this to him!”

You can hear a shuffling of boards on his background.

“Oh my god…don’t tell me you’ve overslept?”

“I wouldn’t be if he woke me up!” he yelled as a slamming of the door was heard behind him, “I told him I have a volleyball practice today!”

You rolled your eyes fondly.

“You know Tsumu, I was having the time of my life there and you just happened to interrupt me,” you exclaimed, still in a shushed manner.

“What are yer on about? Who the hell is having fun with Mrs. Nara’s lecture?”

“Apparently I am today so…bye!” You slammed the end button on your call.

Before tucking your phone, you immediately put it into silent mode. As you headed back inside, your mind was churning cogs on what to reply to Suna. He clearly caught you staring at him. So, as you sat down beside your chair, careful to avoid anyone’s eyes, you started writing in your notebook.

It was just a coincidence. Don’t think too much about it.

Tearing the small written portion, you bide your time until Mrs. Nara turned around and quickly slipped the folded paper onto Suna’s desk.

You tried copying the written equations on the board as you tapped your foot repeatedly, hoping to try and calm your nerves.You silently hoped that Suna did not notice the way your hands trembled when you passed on the notes.

Suddenly, a bulging eraser was placed on top of your notebook. Inside the eraser’s cover, you can clearly see the folded paper. Well that was fast.

Carefully extracting the paper, you quietly unfolded its content. What you read made you stifle a laugh.

Sure, you just ‘coincidentally’ glanced in my direction five times already.

When you looked to your right for the nth time today, you can see that Suna was smirking on you. One of his hands was tucked in his pocket while the other was ‘writing’ down notes. You went back to compose a cheeky reply.

Maybe I just like looking at the view :).

When you confidently passed him the note this time, you saw that Osamu caught you passing notes to Suna. The younger twin just looked between you two before shrugging it off.

Your heart raced as you anticipated for Suna’s reply. It was nerve-wracking but the excitement from the note-passing with him filled you with a newfound energy for this day. One thing is for sure though: You will just have to catch on to the re-taught lessons later at your home.

✩ ✩ ✩

#haikyuu fic #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #CCTaroWrites #sunarin #suna rintarou #haikyuu suna #suna x y/n #gn!reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

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rd0265667 · 5 days ago

Text

Yooyeon x Reader: A love like spring

Tags: College AU, Rivals to lovers

A/N: Happy birthday @1luvkarina

There’s nothing romantic about 7:59 a.m. on a Monday.

Your hair’s half-wet. Your backpack’s tearing at the seams. Your coffee tastes like burnt ambition. And worst of all, there she is—again—in all her smug, straight-A glory.

Yooyeon.

The school’s academic darling with the face of a webtoon lead and the GPA of a spreadsheet deity. Top of the leaderboard every week since her freshman year. If intelligence were a crime, she’d be serving four consecutive life sentences and getting bonus credits for charm.

And you? You’re the upstart sophomore who’s been stuck in her shadow since the day you decided you were good enough to try and outpace her. Since you decided you had to.

Spoiler alert: you’re not. Yet.

You slow your steps as the glowing digital leaderboard updates.

There it is.

#1: Yooyeon #2: You

Again. That unshakable, perfect name above yours like it's a personal attack.

“Good morning, second best,” comes a voice behind you. Smooth. Deliberate. Unreasonably amused.

You don’t flinch—you’re used to her sneaking up like this. Yooyeon has the uncanny ability to appear exactly when you least want her around. Like a pop quiz or a mirror when you’re breaking out.

You sigh. “Yooyeon.”

She steps beside you, holding a hot matcha latte like she didn’t just ruin your week with her existence. Her uniform is barely regulation—tie undone, sleeves pushed up, hair tied loosely like she’s got better things to do than follow rules and still somehow wins at everything.

You brace yourself.

“I see the board’s still allergic to change,” she muses, tapping her cup like she’s bored.

“I see your ego’s still immune to humility.”

She hums, like she’s actually considering your words. “Not immune. Just... in remission.”

“Do you practice this banter or does it come naturally?”

She looks at you, tilts her head just enough to be condescending. “Oh, please, spare me the jokes Princess. You think I have to practice for you?”

You roll your eyes so hard they nearly detach.

Yooyeon leans a little closer. “You were third this time last semester, right?”

You clench your jaw. “Second now.”

“Exactly,” she says, like it’s a compliment. “You’ve been climbing. Just not fast enough.”

You turn to leave. But of course, Yooyeon follows.

Because she’s never known when to shut up—or maybe she knows exactly when, and just chooses not to.

“I have to admit,” she calls after you, “watching you try to beat me every week is the most fun I’ve had all year.”

You spin on your heel. “It’s not a game.”

She smiles. “Everything’s a game if you’re winning.”

Your fingers twitch around your coffee cup. “One day I will beat you.”

“I hope so,” she says with a glint in her eye. “It’s getting boring up there by myself.”

She gives you a lazy two-finger salute and walks off like she didn’t just light your brain on fire.

You hate her.

You hate her and her relaxed brilliance and her effortless grades and her stupid, elegant neck and the way she says your name like it’s a dare.

You definitely don’t have a crush.

You definitely don’t.

Your screen is blinding, your legs are numb, and you’re 97% sure you’re running on sheer spite and protein bars. You’re on your third pass through a theoretical physics paper that Yooyeon probably skimmed once and called “cute.”

You shouldn’t be doing this. You know you’re pushing it—skipping meals, running on caffeine, grinding until your eyes blur. But every time you think about easing up, you see her.

Yooyeon. Looking down from her throne of extra credit and cute smiles.

And suddenly, you’re typing faster.

You don’t even notice the chair slide out across from you until she speaks.

“Still here? Should I be worried?”

You glance up and she’s there—again. Her hair’s down now, loose and slightly damp at the ends like she just showered. She smells like herbal shampoo and quiet confidence. Unfair.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you say, keeping your voice level.

Yooyeon shrugs. “Good. I’m not getting paid.”

She drops into the seat across from you like this is her table. Like everything here belongs to her, including your attention.

“You know,” she says casually, “there’s a difference between working hard and working smart.”

“You would say that,” you mutter, scribbling a correction into your notes. “Some of us aren’t born with magical perfect-brain genetics.”

She rests her chin on her hand, eyes sharp despite the lazy posture. “You think that’s what it is? Genetics?”

You pause.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you say. “You’re just a well-dressed calculator.”

Yooyeon smirks. “And you’re a sleep-deprived caffeine goblin with excellent handwriting. We all have our strengths.”

You try not to smile. You fail.

She notices. Of course she does.

“Are you... encouraging me?”

Yooyeon leans back, her chair creaking just slightly. “Don’t get used to it. You looked like you were about to pass out face-first into your textbook.”

You scowl, but yeah. She’s not wrong.

She slides a granola bar across the table without looking at you.

You blink. “What’s this?”

“An intervention.”

You stare at it like it might explode.

“Don’t be dramatic,” she says, unwrapping her own. “I can’t have my favorite competition collapsing mid-semester. Who else deserves second place behind me?”

You pick it up slowly.

“…Thanks.”

“Anytime, princess.”

She winks.

You hate her.

You hate her so much it might be love.

There’s a strange sound that’s started following you lately. A high-pitched ringing, almost like feedback in your skull. You’ve heard people describe burnout like exhaustion, like fire running out of fuel.

But this?

This feels more like an implosion.

You haven’t slept in more than a handful of hours since midterms. Your meals come in bites between classes. Water? Optional. The only thing you've consumed reliably is the sharp sting of Yooyeon's name above yours on every results board.

She’s always one step ahead. One mark higher. One moment faster.

The library is so quiet you can hear your heartbeat. You’re highlighting entire paragraphs. Useless. Your brain’s not retaining anything.

Someone slides into the seat across from you with the grace of a cat and the audacity of a god.

“Planning to absorb the textbook via osmosis?” Yooyeon asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look up through dark circles and dry eyes. “It’d be faster than this.��

“Bold of you to assume your brain still functions.”

You give her a flat look, but she doesn’t smirk like she usually does. Her gaze lingers on the way your hand shakes when you cap the highlighter.

“You know,” she continues, tone light but eyes sharp, “some people take breaks. Step away. Breathe.”

“Some people don’t have to play catch-up,” you mutter.

She leans back, kicks her boots up on the bench like she owns the place. “You act like I didn’t start ahead of you because you were busy flirting with mediocrity.”

There it is. Classic Yooyeon.

Still, something in her tone feels...off. Forced.

You go back to your notes. She stays longer than she needs to.

You don’t remember sitting down in the courtyard, but the sun is too bright and your coffee’s gone cold. Your head rests on your forearm while your untouched sandwich sits in front of you like a guilt trip.

“Sleeping Beauty,” Yooyeon’s voice says.

You lift your head sluggishly. She’s standing over you, holding a bottle of water. She drops it next to you like she’s not doing you a favor.

“Didn’t peg you for the collapsing-in-public type,” she says, eyes narrowing. “Very... first act of a tragic drama.”

You mumble, “Didn’t peg you for the fairy godmother type.”

“Please. If anything, I’m the charming villain with better cheekbones.”

Despite everything, the corner of your mouth twitches. Her jokes don’t land like they used to—they land heavier now. Like they’re carrying too much meaning, too much watching.

She studies you for a beat too long before muttering, “Drink the damn water.”

You obey. Not because she told you to, but because... it’s her. And her gaze makes your skin buzz.

You’re sitting on the floor outside your dorm room. The hallway light flickers.

Your roommate locked the door while you were in the lounge. You forgot your phone. Your laptop bag is heavy against your back, your eyes sting, and your breath keeps coming short.

You crack your calc textbook open just to do something.

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until someone crouches beside you.

“You’re kidding.”

You blink awake. Yooyeon. Of course. She’s staring at you like you’re a science experiment that’s grown mold.

“Seriously?” she says, voice flat. “The hallway?”

You try to sit up. “It’s fine—just locked out.”

“Oh, yeah. Very normal behavior. Just a girl, a textbook, and rock-bottom study hygiene.”

“Go away, Yooyeon.”

She doesn’t. She sighs, long and annoyed—then slips her phone from her pocket and dials.

“You’re not sleeping here. My place is closer.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not dragging your body to the nurse in the morning. I already have plans. Let’s go.”

You hesitate. She eyes you again. “You look like you haven’t eaten a real meal since the lunar eclipse. Grab a meal at my place, I’ll call your idiot roommate to open the door later.”

You follow her. You weren’t sure if it was the fatigue, or because it was her. And her hand on yours makes your heart beat faster

You're at your desk in the library again. You don’t remember how long you’ve been there. Two hours? Five?

Yooyeon walks past and drops a sticky note on your open book without stopping.

~You forgot your notes in the study room. Again. You’re lucky I like collecting strays. Study up. I expect you right behind me, beautiful. —Your number one.

You stare at the handwriting.

You don’t know how to feel. She's watching you too closely, caring too much, and you're not sure if it's humiliation or... something warmer crawling under your skin.

You crumple the note. But you don’t throw it away.

The professor compliments your analysis. Your voice wobbles when you thank him, and you feel a dozen pairs of eyes turn your way. You grip the desk.

Yooyeon cuts in casually. “We split the work pretty evenly. Honestly, they’re the real brains. I just added sparkles.”

The class laughs. Attention shifts.

You stare at her after. She avoids your eyes.

She’s helping.

She keeps helping.

She keeps pretending she’s not.

Something rumbles in your chest, and it might not be hunger.

Your pencil skids across the desk as you jot another definition into the margin. Your coffee is cold. You don’t remember drinking it — or making it, honestly. The page blurs, sharpens, then shifts entirely. You blink. The words don’t.

It’s fine. You just need a few minutes. A few more pages. Just until your head stops swimming.

“Are you trying to kill yourself with caffeine and stubbornness?” a familiar voice drawls behind you.

You don’t look up. You already know who it is. Only one person can make academic condescension sound like flirting.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, scribbling harder.

Yooyeon slides into the seat across from you at the library table. She sets her iced Americano down with a casual clack. She looks maddeningly well-rested. Hair tied in a loose ponytail, nails painted an obnoxious sky-blue. Her smile is faint — but not cruel. Just... curious.

“You look like you’ve fought a war and lost,” she says. “Did the mitochondria revolt in the middle of your flashcards?”

You glare at her, but it comes out more glassy than venomous.

Yooyeon leans forward slightly, lowering her voice. “Hey. Seriously. When’s the last time you slept more than four hours?”

“I don’t need sleep,” you shoot back, forcing the edge into your tone. “I need results.”

“Cute. You sound like a motivational poster taped to a stress ball.”

You huff and turn back to your notes.

Yooyeon stays quiet for a second too long.

Then she mumbles, “You’ve stopped eating lunch with your friends. I saw you in the atrium yesterday — you looked like you were arguing with a vending machine.”

You don’t respond. She sighs.

“I’m not saying this to be annoying, you know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

There’s a pause.

Then Yooyeon says, quieter, “I notice things.”

You freeze.

She backpedals instantly, voice snapping back to normal. “Not because I care or anything — you’re just loud when you’re stressed.”

You snort, exhausted and bitter. “I wonder why I’m stressed, Yooyeon.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you turned this into some Olympic-level grudge match. I just showed up and got better grades. It’s not my fault you-”

You flinch. She notices.

“Fuck” she mutters under her breath, turning to you “Listen, I didn’t mean that”

“Whatever. Just leave me alone.” You didn’t want her to see you like this

The banter sputters out.

Yooyeon opens her mouth, then closes it. For once, she doesn’t have a comeback. Her hands fidget with her drink, spinning the straw back and forth. Her mouth twitches like she wants to say something else — but whatever it is, it dies in her throat.

You’re not even mad. You’re too tired to be mad.

Midterms week hits like a truck.

The hours bleed together. You pull two all-nighters in a row. Your hands cramp from writing. Your head pounds from dehydration. You’re three minutes late to your Philosophy exam and your professor gives you a look that makes your stomach twist.

Yooyeon intercepts you in the hallway after.

“You’re late,” she says, arms crossed.

You don’t stop walking. “So?”

“So? You don’t do late.”

“Maybe I’m changing.”

“Maybe you’re crashing.”

You whirl around. “Why do you care?”

Yooyeon blinks. Her mouth opens — but again, the words don’t come.

“…I don’t,” she says finally, though it sounds like a lie. “I just don’t want my academic rival to turn into a cautionary tale. Or for this not to be a fair fight.”

You shoot her a look. “Touching.”

She’s silent for a beat. Then—

“…Did you get the chemistry lab notes from Tuesday?”

Your brows furrow. “No, I—”

She hands you a neatly stapled packet.

You stare.

“I noticed you weren’t there,” she says, words tripping over themselves, like if she rushes through them, they won’t mean anything. “Thought maybe you were busy... plotting my untimely demise or passed out on top of your textbook again. So. I wrote some stuff down. When I had time.”

You thumb through the pages. Clean, organized. Little side notes in the margins—some sarcastic, some oddly helpful. It’s better than what the TA would’ve given you.

You glance up. She won’t quite meet your eyes.

Two nights later, you wake up on the floor of the library hallway, your face pressed into the spine of your biology textbook.

Yooyeon is crouched beside you.

“Seriously?” she hisses. “Are you living here now?”

You try to sit up. Your arms don’t respond.

“Okay, nope,” she mutters, grabbing your bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “This is officially the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. And I’ve watched you voluntarily take an extra calculus elective.”

You don’t argue. You can’t.

You let her guide you up. She doesn’t look at you, not really. But her grip is firm. Protective. Almost furious.

She doesn’t say anything else as she half-drags you back to your dorm — until she sees your roommate’s ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign on the door. And a sock on the door handle.

“Unbelievable,” she mutters. “Come on.”

“Come on where?”

“My room.”

“What?”

“My dorm. Unless you want to go pass out on the quad lawn instead, be my guest.”

You blink. “You’re inviting me into your space to sleep?”

“Desperate times,” she mutters, not looking at you.

You don’t remember much after that.

Just that her bed is warm. Her sheets smell like citrus and something else you can’t name. You hear her pacing, mumbling things like, “idiot,” and “should’ve said something,” and “I’m not even good at this—”

There’s a damp cloth on your forehead. A straw pressed to your lips. Her hand hovering near yours, then quickly pulling away.

You hear her mutter, voice tight and quiet:

“Why’d you have to push so hard?”

And then:

“Not like this.”

You wake up to soft light.

Yooyeon is curled up in the chair by the bed, a book open on her stomach. Her glasses are slipping down her nose. Her head is tilted back, exposing her throat. She looks… peaceful.

Vulnerable, even.

You shift slightly.

She startles awake instantly, blinking blearily.

“Hey,” she croaks. “Welcome back to the land of people with functioning blood sugar.”

You try to sit up.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warns, pushing you back with two fingers. “You nearly went full Victorian fainting maiden on me yesterday.”

You stare at her. “You stayed?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, the Florence Nightingale fairy showed up and did all the work. Yes, I stayed.”

You swallow hard. “Why?”

She looks down.

“Because I was scared,” she says. Then quickly adds, “Not, like, scared for you or anything. Just—scared that my GPA would tank if you actually died.”

You huff a laugh. “Classic.”

She tries to smirk. It doesn’t land.

You study her face. The slight crease in her brow. The nervous way she keeps tapping her thumb against her palm. This isn’t the girl who taunted you across study tables. This isn’t the smug top-ranked student.

This is just Yooyeon.

Messy. Soft. Trying her best.

“…Thanks,” you whisper.

She looks at you, startled.

And then — a smile. Small. Real.

“Don’t mention it,” she says, softer now.

Then it all disappears. “Seriously. Don’t. I’ve got a reputation to keep. This night never happened.”

You were unsure why, but your chest ached as she said that

Monday. The rankings post.

You're second.

So is Yooyeon.

Tied.

The hallway buzzes behind you with a hundred voices and the low squeak of sneakers on linoleum. But all you hear is the steady beat of your pulse in your ears as your eyes scan the bulletin board—twice, then a third time, like the numbers might change if you look at them hard enough.

Yooyeon’s name sits right next to yours. Identical score. Perfect tie.

She appears beside you with the smooth nonchalance of someone running on caffeine and stubbornness alone. Her hair is in a messy bun, half-fallen. There’s a coffee cup in her hand and bruised half-moons under her eyes.

“Well,” she says, her tone light but stretched thin at the edges. “Guess the apocalypse came early.”

You don’t answer.

Neither does she.

The silence settles between you, not cold or hostile—just too quiet. You’re standing close enough to feel her shoulder nearly brush yours.

You should say something snide. You should win this moment, score the verbal point. Something like Guess you’re not so untouchable after all.

But nothing comes out.

Because all you can think of is the cold towel she pressed to your forehead. Her voice, breaking like glass when she called your name. The way she stayed.

The way she didn’t leave.

In the library, everything is the same.

Except nothing is.

You sit across from her, like always. Your textbooks open. Your pens lined up in color-coded formation. But the usual energy—your electric, relentless rhythm—is muted. Stiff.

You catch her glancing at you. She catches you too. But neither of you say anything.

“You misspelled ‘haemoglobin,’” she says eventually, flicking your notes toward you with a fingertip.

You raise an eyebrow. “You misspelled ‘delusional’ when you thought I wasn’t going to catch up.”

She snorts. “And here I was, thinking your near-death experience might’ve humbled you.”

“It gave me clarity,” you say with mock solemnity. “And a much better immune system.”

“Sure,” she murmurs. “All it cost was my sanity and my extra blanket.”

You smirk. She doesn’t.

And then the silence slides in again, heavy and stretched like a wire between you. Frayed.

You don’t know when it started feeling like this. This thing between you—too tense to be normal, too soft to be war.

It tries to hold. It tries to strengthen itself, in a vain hope to stop what is inevitable.

It breaks. You’re walking back to the dorms after study group. It’s late, and the air smells like wet pavement and budding leaves. The night feels like it’s holding its breath — like something’s about to change.

Yooyeon’s beside you, hands in her jacket pockets, kicking absently at the gravel path. There’s a beat of silence between you, stretched but not uncomfortable. Not quite.

“You haven’t picked a fight with me all week,” she says eventually. “I’m starting to worry.”

You glance at her. “Thought I’d give you a break. You’ve been too easy.”

She smirks. “Wow. A mercy from my greatest nemesis. I’m touched.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s fond. Too fond. And you both feel it — the quiet shift in the air. The kind of silence that doesn’t beg to be filled, but felt.

You stop walking. She does too.

“We’ve both been pretending that night didn’t happen.”

She turns to face you, her expression unreadable but her eyes tired. Honest.

“But it did,” she says. “You know it did.”

You nod. Slowly. “Yeah. It did.”

The silence settles again, but different this time—heavier. Expectant.

“I didn’t know how to bring it up,” you say. “Didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

She exhales through her nose. “I didn’t. At first.”

You study her face, the slight tension in her jaw, the flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

“I was scared,” she admits. “Because that night—how I felt—how I looked at you… I don’t think I could’ve kept pretending after that.”

You swallow. “Yeah,” you say, your voice low. “Me too.”

She meets your gaze then. Really meets it. And for once, there’s no smirk, no barb, no shield between you. Just Yooyeon. Just you.

“I think the truth is…” you begin, carefully, “…there was always something more. Even back when all we did was argue and try to outscore each other.”

Her lips twitch. “Back when you were too proud to admit I made you nervous.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t nervous.”

“You color-coded your pens every time I sat next to you.”

“That’s called being organized,” you mutter.

“That’s called spiraling,” she teases—gently, now. No venom. Just warmth.

You crack a small smile, but it fades just as quickly.

“I kept telling myself I had to beat you,” you say. “That I needed to prove I was better. Like if I didn’t, then… then maybe everything I’d worked for would mean less.”

Yooyeon’s expression softens. “And I kept telling myself it didn’t matter. That none of it—none of you—mattered. Because if it did, I wouldn’t be able to compete the same way.”

You nod, slow. “I think we were both lying to ourselves.”

“For a while now,” she murmurs.

A pause.

Then: “When you collapsed,” she says, voice smaller than you’ve ever heard it, “I didn’t care about the exam. Or our scores. Or the board. I just—” She breaks off, looking away for a second, gathering herself. “I was so scared. And all I could think about was how I never told you.”

“Told me what?”

“That I cared,” she says. “That I’ve always cared. Even when I pretended not to. Even when I was throwing jabs or pretending I didn’t notice the way you always tapped your pencil twice before a big answer.”

Your breath catches.

“I saw you,” she whispers.

You blink fast, the lump in your throat impossible to swallow.

“I think…” you start, but your voice wavers, so you pause, exhale. “I think I kept trying to prove something I didn’t need to prove. Not to you. Maybe not to anyone. But especially not to you, because I think deep down—some part of me just wanted to impress you.”

Yooyeon’s lips part, like she’s about to speak. But instead, she just steps forward. One slow, steady step.

You meet her halfway.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” you say quietly. “Not about how I feel. Not about you.”

“Neither do I,” she says, breathless.

“You remember the first time we met?” you ask.

She tilts her head. “Let me guess — you're about to say you knew I was your greatest threat the second I opened my mouth.”

You smile faintly. “No. I was going to say I hated how fast I noticed you.”

She blinks.

“Not just because you were smart,” you continue. “But because... you lit up the room the second you walked in. And I didn’t know how to deal with that. So I decided I had to beat you.”

Yooyeon’s voice is softer now. “You always looked at me like you had something to prove.”

“I did,” you admit. “I thought if I could outscore you, outrank you, maybe that ache in my chest would make sense.”

She lets out a breath, not quite a laugh. “You think I didn’t feel it too?”

You glance at her.

“From the beginning,” she says, voice quieter now. “There was always something more than just competition with you. But I told myself it wasn’t real. That it was easier to pretend, that it didn’t mean anything, that it was just a competition.”

She smiles, but it’s sad around the edges. “You worked so hard to push me away. I didn’t want to care about someone who saw me as an obstacle.”

“I never saw you as just that.”

She looks up at you, searching your face. “Then what did you see?”

You hesitate. Then: “Someone who saw through me. Who made me feel like I wasn’t alone, even when I was trying to act like I didn’t need anyone.”

Yooyeon blinks fast. “I cared,” she whispers. “Even when I tried to hide it behind sarcasm and insults and pretending like your dumb matcha obsession wasn’t growing on me.”

You laugh, low and raw. “I used to time my walks to the café just to run into you.”

“I knew it,” she says, half-laughing, half-breaking. “You were so bad at pretending it was a coincidence.”

“And you,” you counter, stepping a little closer, “you always offered me gum right before tests.”

“That was strategic.”

“It was sweet.”

Another breathless silence. Her eyes are wet, but she doesn’t look away.

“I didn’t want to admit how much I wanted you to see me,” she says quietly. “Not as your rival. Just... me.”

“I always saw you,” you whisper. “I just didn’t know how to let you see me back.”

She stares at you. Then slowly, deliberately, she takes your hand. Fingers lacing through yours.

You squeeze, just once.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, so quietly you’re not sure the words made it out.

She nods. “Please.”

You lean in. And the kiss is slow — unhurried and trembling and full of everything you’ve both been holding back.

When you pull away, you stay close. Forehead to forehead.

“You still drive me crazy,” Yooyeon murmurs.

You smile. “Good. That’s half the fun.”

She pulls back just enough to see your face, lips curved in that small, teasing way. “So… does this mean I can finally stop pretending your annotated flashcards don’t turn me on a little?”

You laugh, cheeks burning. “Yooyeon.”

“What? They’re hot. Color-coded chaos? I live for it.”

“You’re such a menace.”

“Yeah,” she says, tugging your sleeve so you step closer again, “but I’m your menace now.”

You shake your head, smiling so much it hurts. “God help me.”

She rests her head on your shoulder for a moment. “He already did. He gave me you.”

You blink. “That’s disgustingly sweet.”

“I know.” She looks up at you, grinning. “It’s your fault. I was perfectly insufferable before you.”

You press a kiss to her temple. “Don’t worry. You’re still insufferable.”

She laughs, soft against your neck. “Good. Wouldn’t want you to get bored.”

“Not a chance,” you murmur. “Not with you.”

“You know,” you whisper, “this does technically count as fraternizing with the enemy.”

She smirks. “Are you calling yourself the enemy now?”

“I’m calling myself dangerous. You never stood a chance.”

Yooyeon tilts her head. “Please. I had the upper hand the second you fainted like a Victorian ghost and I had to tuck you into bed.”

“That’s slander,” you say, mock-scandalized.

“It’s documented.”

You laugh, breathless, and she leans in again, brushing your cheek with the back of her hand.

“I still want to beat you,” she whispers.

“Good,” you whisper back. “Because I’m still going to outscore you in physics.”

“You won’t,” she says, nose brushing yours. “But I look forward to watching you try.”

And under the breathless night, with the world on pause around you, she kisses you again.

It tastes like promises.

Like spring.

#rd0265667 #fluff #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop gg #kpop idol x reader #yooyeon #triples yooyeon #triples yooyeon fluff

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kekaki-cupcakes · 1 year ago

Note

hello!! Hope you’re doing well!!

could you please do a Leo x mortal reader cafe au like the Connor stoll one? And could the reader be a Greek mythology nerd also please have a little brother who she’ll randomly quiz about the Olympian gods?

have a nice day 😚😚

heyyy i didn't get your whole request in but i got the vibe dw and also kind of made a moodpboard for it cause I loved the whole aesthetic and no one requests mood boards <3 LISTEN TO EXPRESSO BY SABRINA!

Leo Valdez x Reader--- cafe au

»»————-　★　————-««

“Hello,” you said, looking up from your screen for a millisecond, “what can I get you today?”

When whoever it was ordering didn’t respond, you raised an eyebrow, hand hovering over the digital menu. The boy frowned at the screen above your head where it listed all the different drinks. He had the nicest brown curls, you noticed, and looked back down before he caught you staring.

He tapped his fingers quickly on the counter. Sabrina Carpenter's new song was playing over the cafe speakers. It sounded like summer.

“How many espresso shots are you legally allowed to put in one drink?” The boy asked with a crackly voice. He had dark smudges under his eyes. And on his hands. Huh. You really needed a camera to look into at times like this, for comedic effect. Like the office.

“About six,” you said, dropping your customer service voice with a shrug, and opened up a new order on the tablet, your bracelets jingling. “What can I get you today?”

You loved your bracelets. Some were from that second hand store down the street full of goths and grandmas where you’d bought yet another version of the Odyssey yesterday, and the rest were from your little brother.

You never admitted it to anyone, but he’d made them based on all your favorite Greek gods. The ones you were wearing today had pomegranate seed charms and antler horn patterns.

His eyes widened considerably. They were brown. And sparkly. “What happened to your voice?”

You squinted at him. Someone else came into the cafe with three little dogs stuffed into their giant handbag.

“That was my customer service voice.” Your brain was finally receiving enrichment in messing with this cute greasy boy. You put it on again, paired with a fake smile. “What can I get for you today?”

He chuckled, and hitched a giant canvas tote bag over his shoulder. There was a giant inked cat with butterfly wings on it, and a long metal pipe sticking out the back. You had a feeling this boy would steal your name if he got ahold of it, or trap you in a ring of flowers deep in a forest.

“Uh,” he trailed off, and then winked, scrunching up his entire face. “Surprise me.”

You blinked at him. How entirely helpful. You watched him pull an entire fucking old fashioned pocketwatch out of his pocket to check the time.

Medium was the most commonly ordered size of drink, so you selected that, and then a caramel latte with whipped cream. You had that knack that every person in your generation seemed to have been born with.

Selecting random objects and flavors to match someone’s vibe precisely. You just happened to be a barista.

For instance, this talkative sleep deprived boy was rocky road slices with peanuts in them, and torn open sugar packets, and caramel. Your coworker, Lou Ellen, who was wiping down tables behind the handbag dog man, was those butterfly shaped ice-cubes and home brewed black coffee from a saucepan and dragon fruit juices. And that thick book on Greek mythology she’d bought you for your birthday last year [she’d nicked it from the library and peeled the sticker off].

“Four dollars and sixty cents,” you said patronizingly, in your customer service voice. He grinned like you had just invented the funniest inside joke ever, and handed over five dollars in fifty cents coins.

“Keep the change.”

You printed out the receipt and reached for a medium sized cup and the ballpoint pen from a uni campus open day, after pocketing the generous tip of forty cents and a paperclip.

What a gentleman. “Name?”

“Leo Valdez, super sized Mcshizzle, bad boy supreme,” Leo Valdez super sized Mcshizzle bad boy supreme said happily, as one of the handbag dogs escaped the bag and started chewing on his laces.

You desperately needed that camera to look into now. You should be the star of a sitcom at this point, with you as the tired main character dealing with silly customers while desperately longing to go home and read your books, Lou Ellen as the hilarious trashy best friend, Will [your coworker who was currently taking out the trash] as the angry bisexual lumped with the night shift crew, and your little brother, who would pop in at random times in each episode to deliver the punchline.

Instead of letting the credits roll, unfortunately, you scribbled out an unintelligible scrawl to represent the complete nonsense you were supposed to instead. Your smile was strained this time. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Leo [you assumed that was his name] beamed. “Thanks!”

It was only as you frothed the milk and tried not to burn your fingertips on the spout did you realize that the song was still going. Lou must’ve looped it, as she did with every song ever until she got sick of it and hated it.

You nodded your head and tipped the bubbling milk into the cup, reaching for the tube of caramel sauce. “Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya, I know I Mountain Dew it for ya.”

“That morning coffee, brewed it for ya.” You rolled your eyes to no one and tipped the extra caramel sauce into it. It was ten o'clock at night, and your shift had just started. Morning coffees meant college students rushing in at two a.m. so they could finish their projects.

You shook up the whipped cream. “One touch and I brand-newed it for ya.”

One of the most satisfying parts of your job, apart from spinning around and introducing yourself as the manager [you are not the manager] when someone demands to see the manager [who comes in once a month, looks around, and leaves again], is the whipped cream. The sound of it and the little pattern it makes just itches a scratch.

You smile as you finish the swirl, which sinks into the cup of espresso shots and caramel milk. You spin around, “now he’s thinkin’ ‘bout me every night, oh…”

“Is it that sweet? I guess so,” you hum under your breath, and ducking the spray bottle Lou Ellen launches over your head, you stick a straw in the cup and walk to the bench, where Will’s serving the man with three purse dogs a jelly donut.

Leo’s digging through his bag while you wait, not bothering to rush him and leave the 24/7 rip off starbucks diner empty.

You pick up the pen and take the lid off with your teeth, doodling a little cat on the blank bit of the cup. The tail comes out all wrong, and one of the whiskers slides halfway around on the plastic with a scratchy sound.

You add rushed fairy wings to its soft looking back, and hand the cup over as Sabrina Carpenter sings about being a singer. Her voice is so pretty. Like caramel. “There you go.”

Leo grinned at you, and while you watched in absolute horror, proceeded to pour an entire monster energy drink he’d pulled from his tote bag into the perfectly made coffee.

“Excuse me?” you whisper shrieked.

He blinked at you owlishly, and you tried not to notice how warm his eyes looked in the vintage yellow lights of the shop that made everything seem seventies. “What?”

“That’s enough caffeine and chemicals to give a water buffalo a heart attack,” you said, pointing at his awful concoction. It started to fizz. You wondered if the building had chemical reaction insurance.

“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Leo shrugged, and picked up his cup happily. He looked down at it, and a grin split across his face. “I got a drawing!”

»»————-　★　————-««

It was only a few days later when the bell rattled quietly by the door and you looked up to see Leo and smiled despite yourself, fingers tapping on the cup in your hand, wear the ring you’d made from that paperclip sat, did you realize what role he would play in your heart shaped ice-cubes Sabrina Carpenter soundtracked paperback books late night set ballpoint pen sitcom.

The love interest.

»»————-　★　————-««

#leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #leovaldez #leo valdez #leovaldezxreader #leo valdez pjo #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez x you #the heroes of olympus #leo valdez x y/n

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deepamuthukrishnan · 5 months ago

Text

The Science of it All

High school Luke Hughes and OC

Summary: Divya (the oc) has to help Luke catch up with assignments that he missed from his AP Environmental Science class.

Warnings: cursing

Author’s Note: This is loosely inspired by me and my experiences in APES and it’s one of my favorite classes. If you’re American, in high school, and your school offers it, take it. I’m trying to get this to be a series if I can. But I tried to make this like normal but also enjoyable. So enjoy!!

Chapter 1:

Divya’s POV

“Morning Miss. Renaldi.” I greet as I walk into her room. I walk over to my desk, looking at the board to see the agenda for the day.

Finish Tragedy of the Commons Notes

Start Impacts of Overfishing Notes

MAYBE: Start Fishing Silent Debate.

It doesn’t look so bad and I love a notes day in APES. They’re therapeutic and I love this class.

I sit down and I’m greeted by Eesha, a family friend and her friend Sasha. Eesha’s family owns a few restaurants and my dad is close with her dad. We’re not that close but we’re nice.

I take my phone out and I send a few snaps on Snapchat and go through my friend’s stories before opening instagram and going through my feed.

About 2 minutes go by and some boy sits right next to me. He’s kinda cute, tall with light brown curly hair that reaches the nape of his neck.

I wonder if he’s a new kid or transferred to this class because I’ve never seen him before.

The bell rings and Miss. Renaldi, like clockwork, walks into the room and stands behind her computer that’s on the massive lab table in the front of the room, putting in attendance. After finishing that, she fixes the HDMI cord that’s connected to her laptop.

“Good morning guys! How are we?” She asks and gets the same answesr: a few grumbles and a few goods, with Andrew Paulichi yelling amazing.

It’s funny because apart from me and Jacob Anatoli, we’re the only juniors taking the class, I think?

I don’t know about Mystery Boy sitting next to me.

“We’re gonna finish up our tragedy of the commons notes and start our impacts of overfishing notes and if we have time, we’re gonna go a fishing silent debate. If we don’t get to it, we will do that next class. Just a reminder that quiz corrections are due Friday morning and that Tragedy of the Commons edpuzzle is due tomorrow.” Renaldi says and pulls up the slideshow with the notes and people pulling out their notebooks and pens, some taking their chromebooks out.

I take my binder and pencil case out when I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn to look at Mystery Boy and try not to get lost in his muted blue eyes.

“This is gonna sound stupid but can I borrow a sheet of paper and a pen or a pencil?” He asks.

I try not to let my face show an expression of judgement before I opened my binder and give him two sheets of loose leaf paper and a mechanical pencil from Walmart.

“Thanks.” He says. I turn back to my unfinished Tragedy of the Commons notes, listening to Renaldi go on about how to stop a Commons problem when Mystery Boy taps my shoulder again.

“Oh my god what?” I whisper.

“Sorry for uh, disturbing you, but can I take a picture of your notes?” He asks.

I roll my eyes before showing him my binder. He takes his phone out and I catch a glimpse of his lock screen. It’s a picture of him and what looks like his two brothers. They look oddly recognizable but I can’t put my finger on them.

He unlocks his phone and opens his camera app, quickly snapping pictures of my notes.

“Anything else?” I whisper.

“Nothing, thank you.” He whispers back before giving me my binder.

The period goes by slowly and the bell rings and everyone begins to pack up.

“Just a reminder that your quiz corrections are due Friday and your TOC edpuzzle is due tomorrow!” She yells over the commotion of students saying their byes and have a good days.

“Have a good day Miss. Renaldi.” I say but she stops me.

“Oh Divya, I need to talk to you.” She says. “And you’re not in trouble.”

“Oh, okay.” I tentatively say. I walk back inside and I see Mystery Boy also in the room, standing at the front of the room. She closes the door and shuts her computer.

“Divya,” she points to Mystery Boy, “This is Luke.”

Oh so that’s what his name is and god damn he’s tall!

“Hey.” I say awkwardly.

“And Luke,” she points at me, “This is Divya.”

“Hey.” He also says awkwardly.

“Luke is supposed to be in this class.” Miss. Renaldi explains. “However, because of his, situation for the past few months, he hasn’t been here. And after some consideration, I’ve decided that you should help him catch up.”

“But I’m busy with school and extracurriculars and stuff.” I protest. “I am flattered but like I can’t.”

“Divya I know you can.” She says. “You consistently do well in this class, you know the material like the back of your hand. I’ll give you extra credit for doing this. And he’s also a junior like you too.”

So he is a junior.

I think about it for a moment. “Fine.” I relent. “I’ll do it, but not because I know Luke.”

He gives me a boyish grin and Renaldi beams.

“I knew I could count on you.” She says.

I give her an awkward smile before grabbing my bag and walking out.

“Yeah so then that’s what fucking happened.” I explained with a mouthful of chola batura in my mouth in the choir room during lunch.

“Wait wait wait, so you know have to tutor some kid who’s in your APES class who has been awol for months.” Bella, one of my friends, asks.

“Yeah and now I feel like a dumbass because there’s no way I’m juggling this with like winter guard and my arangetram practice.” I say, furiously biting into my chola batura wrap.

“Okay, do you know his name?” Claire, another one of my friends ask as she takes her phone out and open instagram.

“Uh, his name is Luke.” I reply.

She immediately searches him up and after about 5 minutes, Claire cleared her throat before showing her his instagram profile.

“Okay so his full name is Luke Hughes. He’s 16 years old, youngest of three. He had two older brothers named Quinn and Jack. Quinn’s a defenseman for the Vancouver Canucks while jack’s a center for the New Jersey devils.”

“How did you-“

“It wasn’t that fucking hard. I basically found a post where each of the brothers were tagged in and it took me to their profiles. But anyways, Luke is on the Team USA U17 hockey team. They recently came back from Worlds.” Claire adds.

So that’s why he was gone.

“But why take a fucking college level science course?” I ask.

“I don’t even know. But that’s basically who Tutor Boy is.”

I nod and throw away the aluminum foil before opening my cinnamon bun flavored puffcorns and eating them.

I’m in my head when my phone vibrates and I get a notification from instagram.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #l. hughes #luke hughes fanfic

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eleganzadellarosa · 1 year ago

Text

Bad Reputation

pairing: fuckboy!kyungsoo x fem!reader

genre: SMUT (an unhealthy amount but I’m not sorry), would you call this enemies to lovers?

summary: A bet with the school fuckboy has you going back to your old ways.

warnings: MDNI (threesome, unprotected sex (wrap it up immediately 👀), oral (m and f receiving), squirting, slight mean/cocky dom kyungsoo, choking, overstimulation, orgasm denial, pussy slapping, daddy kink, name calling)

word count: 5.78K

A/N: Anon requested! This was very fun to write and I incorporated the threesome in a different way? I hope you enjoy it!

taglist: @sleepingbeautydo (🥺🫶)

He was well known around campus.

For his good looks and fuckboy antics.

Just looking at him you would never guess though and that’s probably how it all started. At first you just knew about him from hearsay, but then you had a class with him and saw firsthand how he would flirt with every girl he found attractive and how they would immediately fold.

You couldn’t help but scoff seeing him wrap an arm around one girl’s shoulder and whisper something in her ear that made her giggle. Or how his hand rubbed dangerously high on the thigh of another girl minutes later. You weren’t sure how every girl saw this but still ended up bent over in his dorm room that same night.

It’s not that you didn’t find him attractive either, because you did, you just hated his cocky attitude. He’s also never bothered you, so you guess you didn’t make his “attractive list”. It didn’t upset you since you’d rather have someone who liked you AND didn’t try to fuck the whole campus.

“Okay class, see you next week for finals. Make sure you’re ready, study study study!”

The teacher tapped on the board with the dry erase marker to add extra emphasis to the last part. Your grades were good thankfully so you didn’t have much to worry about. Now that you thought about it, how was he passing this class? Maybe he was a lot smarter than he looked given that this class was not for people who skipped out on studying.

“Hey girl, you think you could help me study this weekend? I think I got it but I wanna have someone quiz me to make sure.”

Your friend from class. You weren’t extremely close but you always helped each other whenever in pertained to homework or exams. You nodded with an “of course” and finished stuffing the rest of your things in your backpack. There was a pair of eyes on you, staring you down ever since your friend came up to you. You were afraid to look back but you’ve never been one to back down.

Sure enough, the pair of eyes boring holes into you belong to Kyungsoo. What the hell was he staring at and why now out of all days?

“Is there something I can help you with?” Your left eyebrow stood tall in confusion and a hand landed to rest on your hip.

“Is staring bad sweetheart? You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

Ugh there’s that stupid overconfidence. “Um actually yes, staring is bad. Did your mother never teach you that? Seems there’s a lot she didn’t teach you…” you trailed off and whispered under your breath when you spoke the end of your sentence.

He scoffed and stood from his seat, making his way over to you. When he reached the space in front of you, he eyed you down curiously. “Hmm, not bad.”

Again, you were confused but nothing he did ever made much sense. “Care to explain why you’re in my personal space?” Your arms were folded against your chest as you tapped your foot, waiting for a reply.

“Ooo feisty little thing aren’t you? You don’t have to be so mean to me babygirl.” He feigned a pout and tapped your chin with his index finger before you swatted it away. “To answer your question, you just caught my eye so I wanted a closer look.”

“Oh, because you flirted with every other girl in class and I’m the only one who doesn’t care?” You rolled your eyes and he chuckled darkly.

“Trust me, if I wanted you to fall for me, I could easily do it.”

A smug look painted your face. “I don’t think overconfidence is cute, so with that being said, you’re overestimating your so called abilities.”

He smiled, tongue in cheek. “Is that a challenge?” He leaned in, hands on either side of you on your desk, his breath ghosting over your lips.

Unfortunately that move had you swooning just a tad but you weren’t going to let him know that. Your stubborn attitude was going to get you in trouble one day and maybe it was today. “Bet. You have two weeks. We’ll see just how desperate you get when you see I’m not falling for any of it.”

He wrapped a hand around your waist and caressed your cheek, his mouth coming down to whisper in your ear, “If there’s anyone being desperate, it’s going to be you begging me to get this dick deeper inside of you. Can’t wait to see it, I’d love to see you beg.” He walked away looking triumphant and made sure to pat your butt.

He wasn’t going to win, you weren’t going to let him.

The rest of the week went by unbothered so for you to have forgotten the bet you made with the bold boy, is not surprising. It wasn’t until he came up and wrapped an arm around your waist and planted a kiss on your cheek that you were snatched back to the reality of it all.

“Ugh what the hell?” You quickly wipe your cheek on the back of your sleeve. A look of disgust showing through how you stuck out your tongue and gagged.

He stood in front of you now and watched you closely before squinting and crossing his arms. "Well someone definitely didn't get much sleep last night."

You gasped and squished your cheeks in your hands. You thought two layers of concealer would do the trick but you also didn't expect for someone to be so close they could practically see your pores. "Kyungsoo please fuck off, I don't have time for this."

"Aww but I was going to offer to get you a coffee. Help you wake up before the exam later."

You rolled your eyes and looked at him with a deadpan expression. "Don't you have one of your other hoes you could be bothering? I need to go sit for a while and maybe close my eyes before I pass out."

"I could" he said with a click of his tongue "But I'd rather be bothering you right now. And don't talk about my "hoes" as if you're not going to be one of them soon."

At that you let out a hearty laugh. "You're so stupid, I forgot about this stupid bet since you didn't do anything this whole week and now you only have a week left which is nowhere near enough time to get me to even want to kiss you."

He draped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you in close, not having enough strength to fight back. "Baby you still don't understand. I know exactly what I'm doing and when I have you gagging, I'll try not to say 'I told you so' okay?"

You annoyingly shook him off of you and turned to face him. “What makes you SO sure that I’d be attracted to you at all?”

“Because if I were to do this” he grabbed your hand and kissed up your arm, “your breathing stops. The same way it did last week when I got close to you.”

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He wasn’t wrong and you hated that you had that reaction for him but it was his fault for not being ugly. If the situation was different and he was as sweet and nice as he looked, you’d give him a chance.

“Anyway, I’m officially inviting you to Cam’s party this weekend and you can’t say you’ll be busy because finals are today.”

“I never said I wanted to go to Cam’s party but I appreciate the invite.”

“Don’t be such a party pooper and come hang!” He grabbed your hand and rubbed a thumb over the soft skin. “Wear something irresistible too, I wanna be desperate.”

He was unbearable but admittedly he did have some charm to him. You were also curious what Cam’s party was going to be like since you’ve never been to one because apparently they were “invite only”. You didn’t care enough to try to get invited but it would be nice to relax and party after having such a stressful semester.

“Okay fine, I’ll come but don’t think that changes anything.”

He smiled, quickly grabbing your phone and holding it up to your face to unlock it. “Here, now you have my number and you can call or text me whenever you’d like.” He shot you a wink and handed you back your phone. “Don’t say you won’t call or text me either because I know you will.”

He walked away, not giving you a chance to say anything. Maybe he would win this bet, he already had you going to a party you didn’t give two fucks about 5 minutes ago.

“Girl why won’t you just fuck him? Everyone else has and they say he’s AMAZING in bed.” Your friend sat on the opposite end of your bed, concentrating on painting your toenails.

“Exactly my point, the fuck? Why would I want to fuck THE fuckboy? I’m not trying to do that and then catch feelings just for him to leave me for the next girl and then hit me up whenever he wants to take me to pound town.”

You stretched your hand out in front of you to check your work, making sure it looked just right before curing your nails under the UV light.

“Okay so you do think you’d catch feelings? Your pussy probably looks like a raisin because you never get dicked down anymore. You used to be a "hot girl", what happened to her?"

She was right. You had your hoe phase in your freshman year that trickled down from your senior year of high school but you didn't want to be known around school for that, so you vowed to change. And change you did. You planned on reviving that side of you just a bit for the party tomorrow, you were kind of interested in seeing if you were still capable of being irresistible. If he wanted a challenge, you would give it to him especially if it meant being able to prove your point.

"She's not me anymore and I'm not really trying to go back to being her. I want a boyfriend, not the whole school. But if you must know, I aim to be her tomorrow. See what kind of results I can get; see if I still got it."

"Pfft, bitch you never lost it, you just don't act on it. If I was a guy, I'd eat you out right now." She stuck her tongue out and closed her eyes as if she was tasting something delicious. You swatted at her arm and she chuckled. She went back to painting your nails before speaking up again. "If you do fuck him, can I have your pink bra with the sparkles on it and have the pleasure of saying I knew it?"

You raised your leg as if you were going to kick her in the shoulder. "Babes, I'm really going to need you to stop acting like I'm going to fold so quickly. I have no intentions on fucking him at all. Yes, he's attractive but again, I don't want someone that acts like the old me."

She clicked her tongue as she admired the finished product. "Well I don't think you're weak, I just don't think it's going to work out the way you think it will, but we'll see." She pressed her lips together and raised her brows.

You wiggled your toes and took another look at your fingers. "I promise if you're right, I'll kiss you and give you my bra." You rolled your eyes and smiled when she smiled seductively. "Oh yeah, do you know how far Cam's house is from here?"

"Girl I've never been to that man's house a day in my life. Don't you have the address, just put it in your maps."

Oh shit, you don't have the address. That cheeky fucker was right, you'd have to text him for something. You couldn't help but laugh in disbelief, he most likely planned it out just so he could rub it in your face. You took out your phone and searched for his number, not knowing what he saved himself as. A look of disgust showed when you see he was saved as "Daddy 🍆💧". He was so fucking annoying and it made your blood boil.

You: First off, ew. I'm changing your name immediately. And...I need Cam's addy.

He quickly read the message and it took him no time to reply.

Daddy 🍆💧: Oh look who sent Daddy a text.

Daddy 🍆💧: Don't change it, you're gonna wanna change it back tomorrow.

Daddy🍆💧: Here

He shared the contact card for Cam which contained all the information you needed and then some.

Daddy 🍆💧: Can't wait to see what you wear tomorrow 😍

You wanted to scrape your eyes out of your head. He made your skin crawl and you wanted to vomit. He was so cringey, how the fuck was he gathering up these girls like Pokemon? It didn't matter, you were confident you weren't going to be added to that list.

Luckily for you, Cam's house was a 10 minute walk from your dorms, nothing you couldn't handle. You looked in the mirror one last time. A black tube top, tortoise patterned asymmetrical skirt and black lace up sandals. You did look hot, maybe a little too hot. But that's what you wanted, you wanted to walk through the door and all eyes be on you. So when you knocked on the door and Cam answered it, immediately eyeing you up and down, you knew you succeeded.

"No fucking way...Kyungsoo, your "girl" is here!" He shouted behind him while keeping his eyes scanning your body, landing specifically on your exposed thighs.

Kyungsoo worked his way through the crowd, trying to get to the front door without having to stop and greet people. He finally made it, eyes growing in size when he saw you standing in the doorway. He didn't doubt it, but holy fuck did you clean up nicely. You were far from ugly but this was a whole new side to you that he never expected to see. He grabbed your hand, mouth still agape, and raised your arm above you making you do a spin.

"Oh my...I could cum right now just looking at you..." He couldn't stop spinning you to see angles he's already seen. He bit his lip and gave an approving nod. "Fair play. You really did come looking hot enough to make me desperate." He pulled you in by the waist and whispered in your ear, "But I'm still going to win this bet."

He shot you a wink and walked away with a group of friends, off to do whatever college boys do. You finally took in your surroundings, not having much time to do so while you were being ogled at. The vibes were not what you were expecting. Sure it was loud because of the countless amounts of people, but it didn't feel like those parties you'd see on TV.

Angel by Kali Uchis played loudly out of the speakers as you explored the bottom half of the house some more.

~Baby you should know that you’re everything I’m craving~

The beat and melody of the song had you really feeling yourself in your outfit, you felt so sexy. You didn't need the attention or compliments, you felt it for yourself just how good you looked. There were a few familiar faces, but no one that you'd really bother starting a conversation with. You weren't here because you wanted to be, it was only because of this stupid bet. Might as well take the time to try and have fun.

There were drinks everywhere of different colors, in different glasses, you weren't sure what was what and what to try.

"That blue one is pretty good as long as you don't mind that sting from the vodka."

You turned around to see where the voice came from. It belonged to a handsome guy that stood a few feet away from you, hand resting against the bar. "And how do I know I should trust your taste?" You made sure to add a flirtatious tinge to your voice.

He laughed and picked up one of the cups containing the blue liquid. "Well I think you're pretty, so that proves I have good taste right?"

Cute. "I guess that's good enough. I'll be mad if you let me down." You carefully sipped the drink, letting your tongue savor the flavors. It was good, really good. "Maybe you do have good taste."

You talked to him for about 15 more minutes, downing 2 more of the blue drinks and one of the orange ones. The buzz from the alcohol prickled at your skin. That was enough drinks for now, especially if you wanted the strength to walk back home. The song switched to something you could dance to, twerk to even. Before you had time to finish the thought, the guy you'd been talking to asks you if you want to dance with him.

He pulled you into the large area among the other party goers. Things heated up quickly between you two and you were grinding against each other in no time. You haven't let loose like this in quite some time and it was lots of fun in all honesty. He ran his hands along your sides and rested them on your hips as you moved them rhythmically against his crotch. The hand then danced up your spine and tangled in your hair making you stand up but not stop dancing.

"I didn't say you could dance on anyone else tonight." That definitely didn't sound like the same guy.

You turned your head to the side to see who was standing behind you now. "Kyungsoo?" When did he get here? How long have you been dancing on him? You slowed down your pace, but his hand kept your hips steady as he helped moved them to the beat yet again. "Don't stop just because you know it's me. Keep doing what you were doing."

His breath was hot against your ear, sending tingles down your spine and straight to your core. You had the sudden urge to tease him, wanting to see how he would react. You bent over slightly rubbing your ass against him and looked back to watch his expression. His lip was between his teeth, a hand caressing your ass. Why was this turning you on? Perhaps you shouldn't have had so many drinks, but that didn't feel like the problem. You definitely weren't drunk or anywhere close to it.

He was growing hard against you, you felt it. Did you really have that effect on him or was he just a normal horny man? He tapped on your left hip, signalling you to stand up. He turned you to face him, lips ghosting over yours.

"Do you want to kiss me or do you want to keep grinding on me until I take you to a bedroom to fuck you dumb?"

"If I say yes just this once, are you going to kiss me well enough to make me want to fuck you?"

He smirked and licked his lips. "I guess we'll have to see then huh?" He leaned in, wrapping a hand around your throat to squeeze the sides just gently. His lips were soft but the kiss was hungry. He dragged his teeth over your bottom lip before swiping his tongue over it asking for entry. Once granted, his tongue danced with yours deepening the already sensual kiss. His other hand found its way down your back and gripping your ass. Damn, he was a great kisser. So far the rumors were true and you wanted to beat yourself up for wondering if everything else was just as factual.

He pulled away, a trail of saliva connecting the both of you. He stared at you with hooded lids, a thumb rubbing over your lips. "How you feeling?" He knew the answer but you weren't ready to let him win just yet, even though he technically already has. "Too scared to say you want this dick now?"

"Fuck you Kyungsoo." Your words were venomous but the throb between your legs was just as lethal.

"Maybe you'll get the chance to if you fix that mouth of yours princess." He released his grip on you and walked away into the crowd to no longer be seen.

You stood there, thighs threatening to squeeze to ease some of the pressure on your clit. Fuck, maybe your friend was right, you do want to fuck him. You spent all these years trying to deny your urges for him, but tonight you might have to drop the facade to get what you want.

You walked around trying to take your mind off the man you swore you didn't have feelings for. All those drinks had your bladder full so it was time to find a bathroom. A few girls complimented your outfit as you made your way up the stairs through all the kissing couples and groping dudes. Most of the rooms were locked and you know they wouldn't be vacant for a while. Hopefully there was an extra bathroom somewhere before you actually peed on yourself.

Thankfully, the door at the end of the hall lead to a really nice bathroom, its size making you believe it was the master. You took in the restroom in all its glory while you sat on the toilet. Cam's house was huge, his parents must be rich. After releasing all the liquid in your bladder, you went to explore some more. You opened up a few doors that ended up being closets when you heard groans and grunts coming from one of the others and curiosity got the best of you.

When you opened it, you saw him. His head was back and his eyes were squeezed shut, his hand tangled in the girl's hair that had her lips wrapped around his dick. Of course he'd find someone else to suck him off after he kissed you like he loved you not too long ago. He noticed the new stream of light entering the room and looked down to see you standing, watching in the doorway.

He licked his lips and bobbed the girls head faster while keeping piercing eye contact. Shamefully, this had you sopping wet. Your panties were sticking to your core uncomfortably now and seeing how he looked at you made you want to jump him.

"Are you going to stand there frustrated or are you going to come join in?" He was inviting you, seeing if you'd take the bait and let him have his sweet victory.

It's nothing you've never done before and you felt like you would pass out if you didn't cum. Why not take it if he was offering it? You slowly strut over to the bed and climbed on top of it, sitting next to him. He was bucking his hips upwards into her mouth but all his attention was on you. He reached a hand under your skirt, feeling the growing wet patch on your panties. He slid the fabric to the side and teased your folds with his finger.

"You got this wet from watching me or has she been purring since I kissed you earlier?"

He's such a cocky bastard but he was right, you have been no good since that kiss earlier. "Does it matter or are you going to do something about it?"

He clicked his tongue and pinched your clit making you yelp in surprise. "Sit on my face while I think about it." He leaned back so his back was flush against the bed and tugged on your hips. You were turned so that you faced the girl blowing him and your ass pointed towards his face.

He used two fingers to spread your panties to the side and play with your clit, spreading the mess over them before he plunged them into you. You immediately squeezed around his fingers causing him to let out a low moan. He breathlessly told you to take them off and you did so without hesitation, resuming your previous position. His breath danced over your heat, teasing you more with his fingers.

"Kyungsoo-fuck...please just...stop teasing." Your hips were trying to move down onto his mouth but his hands on the back of your thighs kept you in place.

"I thought you could have patience with me? That's what you told me before."

You clenched your teeth in annoyance. You knew he was going to tease you until you were begging, you should have never agreed to this stupid bet. "I didn't come up here to have you annoy me, you make me so sick."

At that, he let go of your thighs, your pussy crashing down on his face. His tongue came out and pressed circles into your clit making you let out a breathy "oh". His arms were wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place as you squirmed. It felt amazing. 2 out of 3 things were right so far, only one thing left to confirm all the rumors. The girl who diligently bobbed her head, released him with a pop and looked up at you. "You take the dick, I take the balls? My jaw is tired."

A weird thing to bond over, but your mind was fuzzy and you'd do anything to have him keep going. She sunk down lower on her knees and sucked each of them into her mouth, a deep groan coming from him, sending vibrations through your body. You whined when you saw just how big and thick he was, head still leaking precum. You carefully kitten licked up his shaft and at the head. It twitched, leaking even more of the sticky liquid. You glided him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked as far as you could go before his tip touched the back of your throat.

He reached down to hold your head in place as he bucked up into your mouth, his other hand working its fingers into you as he sucked on your clit harshly. You were a moaning mess now, trying to breathe through your nostrils as tears threatened to fall. The hold on your head softened and you took the opportunity to come up and breathe, only resulting in a violent coughing fit.

The salty taste of his precum on your tongue was amazing, you craved more. You wrapped your hand around what barely fit in your mouth. You hadn't noticed you were sharing until your tongue collided with something that felt oddly similar. You and your "new friend" were both kissing at his head, lips occasionally brushing against each other. She looked a lot more drunk than you did but he had you both captured in a spell, so you probably looked no different. He was rolling his hips so it could slide between both your wet mouths.

His fingers picked up the pace now, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. Your orgasm was close and you hoped he'd let you have it. As expected, he pulled out his fingers and pushed up on you to move you away from him. He tapped on the cheek of the other girl and sat up. His chin glistened with your essence, his eyes dark with lust.

"On the bed, ass up." The was a sense of dominance to his voice, only adding to the slick that your pussy released. When you bent over on the bed, he landed a harsh smack on your ass causing you to lurch forward.

"Fuck Kyungsoo stop..."

"Hmm, you like that? The way your pussy is fluttering right now, I don't think you want me to. Watch." He brought his hand down on the other side, a loud echo in the room. It stung but in the best way possible. You couldn't help but moan into the sheets. "See how much you love it? Tell me how much it makes you wet."

"I'd never do tha-ah!" another smack, this one leaving a handprint.

He sighed deeply, "looks like I have to fuck the brat out of you."

He gave you no time to reply as he lined up with your entrance and slammed inside, your slick walls making it easy for him to move in and out. He was ramming his dick into you, his hands gripping your hips enough to leave bruises. He instructed the other girl to rub her clit while she kissed him and to not stop until she came.

You couldn't see but the kiss sounded sloppy. His thrusts were fast and you weren't sure how he was multitasking right now, or how he hasn't cum yet. He leaned away from the kiss so he could wet his thumb in his mouth and insert it in your ass, adding to the overall pleasure. You were screaming at this point, his dick constantly hitting that gummy spot in you. Your orgasm was quickly approaching again, your eyes rolling back, your toes curling.

"K-kyungsoo, p-please lemme cum this time. Please."

He didn't hear you, or so he acted. Your walls were clenching on him tight, ready to pulse around him if he let you cum. The girl above you screamed his name when she came over her fingers. A few more seconds were all you needed to tip you over the edge, but he slowed in you, almost coming to a complete stop. You craned your neck using all the strength you had left in your body. There better had been a good reason he ruined your orgasm like this.

There was a shift on the bed making you turn your head. The other girl was leaving, looking satisfied with her long awaited release. She left the room as if she wasn't just making out with the man who still has his dick inside you.

"Kyungsoo please just let me cum." You were desperate now, just wanting to finally get things over with so you didn't feel the aching pain anymore.

"I hope you didn't think I was going to let you off easy." He says, lifting you so that your back was pressed against his chest. Even the slight movement sent tingles to your pussy. "You can get what you want when you beg." His hand was around your neck, making you arch against him, his dick moving ever so slightly.

"Why would I do that when you know what I want?" It was hard not being bratty because you were so stubborn. You weren't sure how much more of this you could take though.

He brought his free hand down to slap your clit. "Bad girl, that's not what I wanted to hear."

Your body jolted from the slap, the overstimulation becoming too much to handle. "Please Kyungsoo, I really need to cum."

He was at your ear again, his breath warming your entire body. "Then beg slut." He pushed your head back into the mattress and began to pound into you. Your breath getting caught in your throat as you tried to moan. "Just beg and I'll make you squirt."

The way his dick rubbed against your walls was intoxicating. His name rolled off your tongue like it was the only one you knew. There it was again, that same knot waiting to snap. He knew you were close, that's why he thrust his hips viciously, making you moan and whimper uncontrollably. You had to do it now, you really needed this and God was he making you feel so good.

"Please don't stop, I need your dick to cum. I'm desperate now, please." Tears stained your cheeks as you confessed.

He pulled you up against his chest once again, hand back around your throat. Yet this time, he was plunging his dick so deep in you at this new angle. "Say it again, you're so what?"

"S-so desperate, Kyungsoo please!"

"Good girl, I knew you could do it. You wanna cum on Daddy's dick so badly don't you? Want Daddy to help you cum?" You nodded quickly, not being able to utter a word with his tightening grip around your throat. "Say it. You can do it."

"I want to cum on Daddy's dick, fuuuuck."

He loved hearing you choke out your words, feeling your pussy squeeze him like this. He had you right where he wanted you, having waited for this since he first laid eyes on you. He knew it'd be a challenge since he couldn't control his desires with anyone else. You were perfect but seemingly unattainable as you threw him side eyes and gags in disgust. When you agreed to this bet, he never thought he'd actually succeed but he had to make you believe he would just so he tried harder.

Seeing you here with tears streaming down your cheeks, moaning like it's the best sex you've ever had; he wanted nothing else than to relive this every change he got. Kyungsoo sped up even more feeling your walls twitch around him. There was no stopping this time. His other hand rubbed ruthless circles on your clit, finally giving you the pleasure of reaching your high. You gasped as he let go of your neck, a high pitched call of his name and you squirting all over the bed sheets.

It was mind-blowing. It had you seeing stars, your ears were ringing, your body was limp. 3 for 3, the rumors were all true. Who knew you'd be doing your research tonight? He stilled in you not long after, his warm seed filling you up to the brim. There was no better sight than seeing you all fucked out with his cum dripping out of you; he almost got hard again.

You were still breathing heavily as you tried to recover from your high. You felt the bed dip down and a heavy arm wrapped around your torso. When you opened your eyes, his big ones started back at you.

"I usually wear a condom but I couldn't help myself tonight." He gently rubbed your cheek as he looked in your eyes lovingly. This wasn't the Kyungsoo you were used to. He seemed calm, sweet, loyal. Just the person you needed him to be in this moment.

"Is that what you tell all your hoes?"

He rolled his eyes but a smile crept across his face. "Bratty to the end I see. And no, I've only told you that."

Admittedly that made you blush. Were you the first to fuck him raw? That didn't seem true, but you'd rather believe him for now. There was silence in the room, clashing with the blasting music coming from downstairs.

"Maybe it's time for a reputation change."

You ticked an eyebrow upwards, "Oh? Tired of your bad rep now?"

He smiled again, this time a lot more innocently. "For you? Definitely."

#exo kyungsoo #exo smut #exo #exo do #exo do kyungsoo #kyungsoo smut #kyungsoo x reader

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sugurusdiscordmoderator · 1 year ago

Note

barista suguru and reader has the biggest crush on him that they try to ask him out but got too nervous to do so!! however.. reader suddenly see him at a party they were invited in, and what does alcohol do to a person sometimes? confidence, and they hook up (eventually got together??) I'm not sure if this request makes sense, and English isn't my first language..

omg hi anon thank you for the ask - not sure if you're an AOT fan but @humanitys-strongest-bamf has an amazing fic similar to this w Levi and its god tier

anywaysss here we go <3

(The ages in this are all fucked up lol, Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji are 22 and Gojo, Geto, and Shoko are like 25)

content warning: Haibara and Nanami are lovers lmao, weed, alcohol, cigarettes, hookup culture

(this is my original drawing please do not repost)

Being well known on your college campus is a blessing and a curse. You loved being involved in a lot of clubs and participating in social events. Going to the library or trying to study was nearly impossible with how many people knew you. However being a senior, you needed to focus and get things done. You lived a little ways off campus to save money and started frequenting a little coffee shop a few blocks from your apartment.

The first time you stopped, you had been walking home from class when a storm with bad winds blew in, and you decided to just study in this cafe until the storm passes. There are little tables all throughout, you grab one near the back and pull out some of your course materials and get started writing notes and going over chapters for your quiz in a few days. That is when a yawn washes over you and the exhaustion from late nights sets in. You figure you might as well get a drink while you're at this coffee shop.

Walking up to the counter you squint up at the menu board trying to decide what you're in the mood for.

"What can I get for you?" a man's voice asks.

Lost in your indecisiveness you don't even look down to make eye contact reading between Americano, Latte, Cold Brew, etc.

"Mmmm, not sure yet, I may need a few minutes," biting your bottom lip thinking about how much caffeine you want to intake today.

"We also have a list of specials down in front of you," he says politely and you see him walk away out of your peripherals.

The thing is, you're not a huge coffee person. Half the time it's too sweet, half the time it's too bitter. The caffeine gives you jitters and makes you anxious. Also sometimes coffee just messes your stomach up so you just have given up on expensive coffee places and opt for making your own shitty coffee at home.

You glance down at the specials list, reading them to yourself,

"Almond Joy Latte

Sparkling Green Tea Refresher

Pink Velvet Cold Brew

Barista's Choice"

You finally look up at the employee, a tall man that is turned around cleaning the espresso machine. His hair is pulled back into a cute bun and his frame is just large. You look at his hands, so large and strong with some veins protruding. He has a black button up on with the sleeves rolled up, exposing tattoos on his forearms. Matching it with black pants and a black apron, he looks kind of dark and mysterious.

He turns around and catches your eye, forgetting all the words that were about to form in your head.

"Still need a minute?" He squints his eyes a little and smiles softly as your eyes rake over his whole face. He has a piece of black bangs sticking out from the bun, pierced ears, a lip ring, amber eyes, and an amazingly chiseled jaw. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out and you can feel the heat spread across your cheeks.

"Uh, I, sorry," you shake your head and try to laugh at your own stupor, "Can I do the barista's choice?"

He nods, "Any preferences?"

"Uhm, no, whatever you like," you completely lie through your teeth trying to seem chill. He taps in the order on the iPad at the register and flips it over for you to pay and sign. At least it isn't too expensive if you don't like it, but you eagerly press the "25%" tip button hoping Mr. tall, dark, and handsome appreciates it.

"I'll bring it over to you when it's ready," he smiles and nods his head towards where you were seated.

"Thanks," you smile awkwardly walking back to your course materials, although it's not like you'll be focusing on anything other than the barista soon. You not-so-casually watch him work, obsessed with a man you've hardly spoken to once.

A few minutes later he brings over a cute tea cup and saucer, and you immediately smile when he sets it down, seeing the little design on top.

"It's a dirty chai...like a chai tea latte with a shot of espresso in it and a little special touch. Let me know if you like it."

The man smirks and walks away before you can even properly thank him. You burn your tongue eagerly taking a sip too soon, trying to find another excuse to talk to him. You try to take your mind off of it by scrolling through instagram for a bit while drinking your latte but around this time of year its all couples and engagements and babies which only adds to how down bad you feel. You get a text from your friend Nobara letting you know that a friend of her friend, Megumi, is having a party Friday and the friend told Megumi who told Nobara that they could bring whoever. After deciphering the word vomit of a text she sent you you send back a "thumbs up emoji" letting her know you'll be there because nobody else has invited you anywhere yet.

You finish your drink and decide to pack up your stuff and head home, a few blocks in the rain won't hurt you. It might cool you off from thinking about the dreamy barista you just met. You set the cute mug on the counter, and he turns around when he hears the noise. He raised an eyebrow, as if asking 'how was it?'

"It was great," you smile, "uhm, have a good one," you slightly shrug and turn around to go before he can add anything, just like he did to you earlier.

The next few days are uneventful, you walk by the coffee shop every day on your way to campus, wondering if he is working or if you should go in, but not wanting to struggle to pick a drink or pay for coffee again.

On Friday Nobara walks back to your apartment with you, she commutes in to town so whenever there is a party or something going on she crashes on your couch. She eyes the little cafe, "Want coffee? I think tonight might be pretty fun from the sounds of it!" She practically squeals and you find it adorable how excited she is. "Sure" you grumble, holding the door open for her.

She waltzes right up to the counter, decisive as always, and knows exactly what she wants. You trail behind her, not seeing any employees at the counter, squinting up at the menu board yet again. That's when you hear giggling come from the back room and see the handsome barista come out with some supplies, followed by a cute girl with a short brown bob who seems to be helping him.

You can't help but think about his beautiful laugh, and how you can hear it again.

"See ya tonight Shoko" he says, putting his apron back on and refocusing his attention to Nobara.

"Bye Geto!" This so called Shoko calls back to him as she walks out the front door. You cant help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the way he was in the backroom with his apron off and laughing with a girl.

Like girl - quit being delusional, you just heard his name for the first time and he probably doesn't even know who you are.

"Y/n, what do you want?" Nobara interrupts your talk with yourself.

"I'll have what she's having," you say overly confident, smiling at Geto. They both side eye you and you just remain oblivious, opting to go on your phone as you let your friend pay for your coffee as payment for her 'hotel' for the night. The two of you move out of the way and stand off to the side waiting for your drinks while Nobara talks about how Megumi's other friend Yuji is going to be there tonight with his big brother Sukuna and how excited she is because they're both sooo attractive. You nod your head along with what she says while scrolling on your phone. It's not that you don't care what she's saying, it's just that she knows so much about everything. All the gossip on campus is at your fingertips because of her, good or bad. You zone out staring at whatever drinks the barista is making, watching his damn good looking hands do his job. He walks over to you with two cups and you can't help but just stare at him. His outfit today consists of jeans and a tight black tshirt with a flannel jacket over top.

"Two iced matcha lattes with coconut milk and a strawberry cold foam on top," He smiles as Nobara eagerly grabs both of the drinks and hands one to you.

She sips it right away, "This is the best I've ever had thank youuu," she dramatically draws out while pulling you out the door heading to your apartment again. You look back to see him watching you leave and give a small wave with the hand that is holding your drink. You can't tell if you're imagining it but you think you see a faint blush over his cheeks.

You and Nobara enjoy your typical pregame activities, getting ready together, listening to music, and sharing a blunt.

"The guy at the coffee shop was checking you out," she half slurs, talking while applying her lip gloss.

"What makes you say that?" You think she's messing with you but you also hadn't told her about your little crush.

"When I was ordering he was staring at you the WHOLE time. Like he didn't even make eye contact with me I don't think!" She wines, "God it's not fair he's so gorgeous."

"To be fair Nobara, you think most guys are gorgeous" You giggle and walk towards the freezer to grab some liquor. "Speaking of gorgeous men, who's party are we even going to tonight?"

"I think it's at some guy named Satoru Gojo's house? I guess he's good childhood friends with Megumi from when he didn't really have a dad." There goes your friend, sharing other people's business when she didn't really need to.

"Mmm," you nod and throw back a shot of liquor, "I think I had a class with him when I was like a freshman and he was a senior. A real interesting character."

"Maybe you can introduce me and I'll get lucky," Nobara raises her eyebrows at you.

"You will not be having sex on my couch." You say sternly before you both erupt in a fit of giggles. Gathering a few last minute things before heading out, you also grab a reusable shopping tote and fill it with a little bit of your own alcohol, you never know what they may or may not have at these kinds of parties.

Walking there was a little chilly but overall a nice night for the time of year. This guy must've gone to your school and hadn't left yet given the proximity of his house to your apartment and to campus.

You walk in and see Yuji Itadori right away with his friendly smile and big personality. He gives you both hugs and you know at least if Nobara doesn't get lucky with anyone else she can rely on Yuji.

Your energetic friend holds your hand as she searches the rest of the party to find her friend Megumi. He stands in the kitchen with a white haired man that you faintly think is this Gojo guy, both getting ready to shotgun a beer together. You and Nobara wait to see who wins before interrupting, grabbing drinks out of the cooler and setting down your bag with liquor and hard seltzers in it. It appears that Gojo finishes just a second before Megumi and you hear Nobara interrupting, "Gumi what was that?! You lost like a little bitch?"

He groans in response but ultimately smiles, "Why am I friends with you again?"

"Because you've been stuck with me since high school."

Watching the altercation, Gojo comes up to you and asks, "You're with them?" Nodding his head at the two immaturely arguing.

"Sadly." you respond taking a swig of your drink.

"I'm Satoru Gojo, this is my place, thanks for coming." He eyes you over top of his black round sunglasses, making you feel like you may be wearing too revealing of clothes.

"I'm y/n, thanks for the invite by proxy," You giggle as Megumi makes his way over to you.

"Y/n, good to see you," the spikey haired boy gives you an awkward side hug, and a little kiss on the top of your head. Satoru raises his eyebrows at the two of you and you roll your eyes. When Megumi and Nobara get distracted and head into another room you fill him in. "Megumi and I may have hooked up once or twice when we were drunk," You blush, revealing your secret that hardly anyone knew to this stranger.

"Mhmm, seems like more than once or twice," Gojo sips his drink and sighs dramatically, leaving the kitchen to you alone.

Just then the back door of the kitchen that leads to the back yard creaks open. You turn to see who it was out of instinct, and recognize the girl with the brown bob from the cafe earlier today. She carries on past you not even really looking at you with her cigarette still lit in her mouth.

You see Nobara in the living room from your spot on the kitchen and mouth to her that you're going outside to smoke. She nods and thumbs up, but it seems that Yuji also read your lips and is interested in joining you.

You head out to the backyard, very dimly lit despite the pretty lights Gojo tried to hang up to make it look more aesthetic. You pull out a dab pen and a cigarette and hold them up for Yuji to take his pick. His eyes light up at the weed pen and he takes a huge inhale.

"God Yuji, careful," you laugh and proceed to take a smaller hit.

Your laugh seems to attract the attention of another group standing outside, and you immediately quiet yourself.

"Do you have a light?" One of them asks although you can't make out names or voices and even if you could you don't know many people here.

"Yeah," you respond, digging out a baby pink lighter that has a "Daddy's Girl" sticker on it, a joke that one of your friends gave you. Hopefully its dark enough that they can't see it.

A blonde guy approaches you to grab it, "Thanks, we have some seats over here if you guys want." Yuji happily follows but you're a little apprehensive. However they do have a firepit going so it is a little brighter over there.

"I'm Kento, this is my boyfriend Yu," the two introduce themselves, lighting their cigs at the same time with your lighter. You take another small hit of your pen as the brunette one comments, "Nice lighter." It makes you cough on your smoke a bit but eventually turns into laughter, "Thank you," You smile grabbing it back from them.

Yuji seems to be a little high from his rather large puff earlier, and you ask, "I'm going to go check on Nobara, you need anything?" He smiles and shakes his head and starts some conversation about an underground fight club with the two guys as you walk back inside. You enter back into the kitchen, grabbing another drink and heading into the living room where you last saw Nobara. She is having a heart to heart with some girl that graduated last year that you know of named Maki. They both have been drinking and just are smiling and agreeing with everything the other says.

She suddenly turns to you when she realizes you're standing there, "Your lover, he's here." She abruptly turns back around ignoring your inquiry of who she is referring to. You see Gojo and Megumi talking in the kitchen and decide to go talk to them instead of standing there looking awkward. You couldn't see from the angle you were at, but the brunette bob cigarette girl was also standing with them chatting.

Gojo waves you over to the conversation, putting a playful arm around your shoulders. "So sweetheart," Satoru starts, slurring his words a little more than he was the last time you talked to him, "Were trying to place bets on who's going to hook up with who tonight."

"Shoko has money on Suguru and Yuki, Megumi bets on Nobara and Yuji, and me, well I have money on you and Megumi." The four of you errupt in laughter and yelling over top of each other of who is correct.

"What are we arguing about?" Another voice asks that just came into the kitchen. You turn to see who it is with Gojo's arm still loosely hanging onto you.

"Suguruuuu" Satoru coos, "Finally joined the party! Shoko here thinks you're going to hook up with Yuki tonight."

"Like hell," he mutters looking to see who his best friends choice of girl is for the evening, before his eyes land on you. You can't help but drop your jaw at the beautiful barista from the cafe standing in front of you. It looks like he just showered, wet hair which is half up half down, and you can smell the fresh body wash radiating off of him.

"Who'd you bet Satoru?" Suguru questions, still having his eyes focused on you.

"I bet little miss y/n here and her boy toy Megumi." He responds and your cheeks flush at the fact this beautiful man may think you're not interested because of Gojo's fat mouth.

"Who'd you bet on?" Shoko asks directed towards Geto.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," he turns to get a drink from the cooler before taking a step outside, you assume to smoke.

You excuse yourself from under Satoru's arm, leaving him Megumi and Shoko to talk about more random gossip. Heading to the backdoor, you try to build up some courage to introduce yourself to this Geto guy. Much to your dismay, as you are walking out of the door in your own thoughts, another person was coming through the door to go inside but was a lot more solid than you. Bouncing back onto your ass you giggle, "I'm so so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you look up to meet the amber eyes you've been thinking about for the past week. It feels like the wind has gotten knocked out of you seeing how close your faces were with him grabbing your hand to help you up.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to knock you over like that,” he slightly laughs. “I’m just grabbing a lighter,” letting go of your hand holding the door open.

“Oh I have one here!” You pull it out of your pocket kicking yourself for showing it to someone else again. Well maybe it will at least start a conversation. You hand it to him and he lights his cigarette, not making a comment and hands it back to you. You also decide to light a cigarette, trying your best to look cool doing it but because of the wind you’re having a little trouble. Suguru sticks up his hand to block the wind for you. His damn hands. It’s like as big as your face up close and you say “thanks” with the cigarette hanging out of your mouth now lit.

“Y/n? Is that your name?” He breaks the silence first.

“Yes, are you Suguru?” You ask sweetly back

“Suguru Geto, the one, the only, barista extrodinaire,” he laughs and draws a puff.

“I like your laugh.” You blurt out, now realizing your judgement is a little impaired from your weed alcohol and nicotine pairing. “Sorry that just kind of came out.”

“That’s okay,” he stares at you with kind eyes ashing his cigarette against Gojos house.

“Did you like the matcha today?” He asks after you don’t respond.

“Actually no,” you bust out laughing, “I don’t like matcha I was just distracted when she was ordering.”

“Distracted by what?” He asks.

“You,” you realize how close your faces are and how intimate the moment is with your glowing cigarettes and how intoxicating the mix of his smell is.

He nods and smirks at your response, glancing down at your lips. “I think I want to get to know you more y/n.”

You gather all the courage that you haven’t had with this man for the past few days and put it all in your lips and lean in to kiss him. He kisses back, graciously, putting his hand against the back of your head as you place your hand on his hard pec. He depends the kiss, moving his lips passionately before entering his tongue into your mouth. His free hand wraps around your waist.

Just as things are getting intense you hear Nobara squeal in the kitchen, “GOJO LOOK!” You both break the kiss laughing, but still pressed up against him.

“I think I may know who my bet is on for tonight,” he winks and gives you another kiss, making your knees weak and release a tiny whimper into his mouth. You pray he didn’t hear it, but instead he asks, “needy daddy’s girl?”

You feel your cheeks grow so warm and cover your face with your hands. “Just kidding pretty girl, your lighter was cute though.”

—

reblogs and comment for a part 2 ?? 🤭🤭

#geto suguru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru smut #suguru geto #geto smut #suguru fanart #jjk fan art

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aishangotome · 2 months ago

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Main Story Chapter 20 Card: Jesse - Derailed (脱轨) | Light and Night 光與夜之戀

Light and Night Polyphony

♡———♡

- Little Love Song Part 1

In the unusually quiet school, a place typically bustling with classroom activity, a pure white bird cut through the thin winter sunlight, its wings beating as it landed on a bare branch.

Amidst the soft rustling of subtle classroom fidgeting, only Jesse remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the clock's ticking hand, silently counting down the seconds until the bell would ring.

Classmate: Hey, Jesse, you want to hit the arcade with us later?

Hearing his classmate's voice, Jesse turned his head slightly, but his gaze remained glued to the clock's relentless march.

Jesse: Me? I won't be joining you.

Classmate at the front: Seriously? You’re ditching us to hang out with the fifth graders again? Your soul’s practically living over there!

Classmate: Jesse, are you crushing on your “sister”?

Jesse’s internal countdown stumbled, skipping a beat. He whipped his head towards his classmate, a confused flicker of uncertainty shadowing his face.

Jesse: Crushing? What’s that…

Classmate: Dude, you don’t even know what a crush is?

Classmate at the front: A crush is when you want to see them all the time, and you think of them when you see anything good, like food or a game!

Classmate: Yeah, yeah, like they’re on your mind every single second, like… like…

Before he could find an apt metaphor to describe his “crush”, the dismissal bell shattered the school's quiet, exploding through the hallways.

The white bird, startled by the sudden clamor, took flight. Jesse, jolted from his thoughts by the bell, grabbed his bag and leapt from his seat.

But just as he was a few steps from the classroom’s rear exit, his homeroom teacher strode in through the front, clutching a stack of test papers.

Teacher: Hold on, everyone. Don’t rush out. Free period is moved to Wednesday. We’re having a pop quiz.

Teacher: The school will pick the students for the public class based on these rankings. So, give it your best.

A chorus of groans filled the room, and Jesse reluctantly returned to his seat, forcing down his impatience.

As the papers were handed out, he scribbled down answers, his thoughts drifting far away.

He knew she'd gotten the spot for the public class, and was chosen as city's top student, but he hadn't had a chance to properly congratulate her.

They hadn't seen each other in almost a week, ever since the accident at her house.

His dad told him not to bother her, and the neighbor’s grandmother told him she needed space. But he still worried about her.

Yesterday, his dad took him to an amazing fried snack shop, and he decided to ask her to go with him after school, hoping to cheer her up.

His daydreaming was interrupted as another teacher hurried into the room and whispered to his homeroom teacher. His teacher walked over and tapped on his desk.

Teacher: Jesse, do you know Y/N from class two, grade five?

Jesse nodded, and his teacher’s serious expression made his own heart pound.

Jesse: Teacher, is something wrong?

Teacher: Do you know what she’s usually---

Before she could finish, the other teacher showed her something on his phone, and they both abruptly left. The moment they were gone, the classroom erupted in whispers.

Classmate at the front: Isn’t she the city’s top student? It’s on the bulletin board.

Classmate at the front: Speaking of which, I heard the fifth graders were fighting over that spot.

The flood of voices hit Jesse’s ears, filling him with a nervous dread.

Glancing at the half-finished test paper, he stood up, slammed it onto the teacher’s desk, and rushed out of the classroom.

He ran, a gnawing unease clawing at his insides.

The fifth grade floor was a chaotic mess, with no teachers in sight. Jesse tiptoed, but couldn't spot the familiar figure in her usual place.

He faintly caught her name in the clamor, and heard a few unpleasant guesses and snide comments.

Boy: I told you, her “top student” award was because everyone felt sorry for her! The teachers pitied her because her grandmother died.

Boy: Otherwise, why’d she run off after just saying a few words! She’s definitely guilty! That spot was supposed to be mine!

Looking at the smug boy, Jesse’s mind went blank. When he snapped back to reality, his fist had already connected with the boy’s face.

Jesse: Shut up! It was her spot! I dare you to say anything bad about her again!

Screams echoed through the classroom as fists rained down on Jesse. He didn't even try to block them, he was like a small beast driven wild.

Teacher: Stop! Who gave you permission to fight here?!

Jesse was yanked away by the teacher, gasping for breath, glaring at the boy with the bruised face. He shoved past the crowd and bolted out of the building.

The wind roared past his ears, pushing the pain and the furious helplessness into the background. Now, his heart pounded only with her name.

Where had she gone? She must be so upset, so scared. He had to be with her.

His calls went unanswered, his text messages sank into a silent void.

Panic, fear, regret… a storm of emotions churned inside him, and he only wanted to go faster, even faster.

The alley near his house, their favorite food stall, the park where they played hide-and-seek, their secret hideout…

He half expected her to appear in front of him at any moment, but he searched every place, finding nothing.

Jesse sank onto a swing, swaying aimlessly, the swing's motion slow and dull. He fiddled with his unresponsive phone, his heart sinking with the fading sunset.

Suddenly, he saw a dirty sticker lying in the sandbox.

Jesse ran over and picked up the familiar sticker. Flipping it over, he found the smiling face he had drawn on the back.

Why was it here? This sticker was supposed to be tucked into her notebook. Jesse suddenly looked up at the towering steel framework of a half-built building nearby, his heart clenching painfully.

Had she been here too? Why would she come here? Had something happened?

Terrible scenarios flooded his mind, and the tears he had held back for so long finally burst forth.

Clutching the sticker, Jesse dashed towards the massive construction site, but before he could even reach the gate, he was stopped.

Construction Worker: Hey! This is a construction site! What do you think you’re doing running in here?!

Jesse: Did a girl just come in here? I need to find her!

Jesse: Let me through! I need to find her!

Construction Worker: What girl? I didn't see any girl around here!

Jesse cried uncontrollably, and during the struggle, he fell onto the dirt and sand, but was still blocked from reaching the building.

Soon, his father, having received a call, drove to the construction site and forcefully dragged Jesse, covered in dirt and disheveled, into the car.

Jesse's Father: Jesse! Do you have any idea what you're doing?!

Jesse's Father: First, you start a fight, then you skip class, and now you come here to cause trouble?!

Jesse hung his head, lost and defeated, and the tears rolling down his cheeks dripped onto the back of his hand.

Jesse: I still have to find her...

Jesse's Father: Stop this nonsense! We're going to the hospital! To apologize!

The sun had already set, and the buildings outside the car window sped past in his vision, blurring into monstrous shapes in the darkness.

Could she be hiding among those monsters, crying alone in fear?

Soon, Jesse followed his father into the hospital. His father gripped his collar and dragged him in front of the boy and his parents.

Jesse's Father: Jesse! Apologize to your classmate!

Jesse stared stubbornly at the boy, refusing to bow his head.

Jesse: Why should I apologize? He was the one talking bad about Y/N!

Jesse's Father: Jesse!

His father, furious, raised his hand to hit Jesse, but the teacher quickly intervened.

Jesse simply stared at the chaotic scene before him, clutching the sticker tightly in his hand.

The commotion finally subsided after the teacher's mediation, and Jesse, who remained silent throughout, got into the car with his father to go home.

Jesse wiped his eyes, and although he felt wronged, he was more worried about her safety.

Jesse: I have to find her. It’s so late, she’ll be scared alone outside!

Jesse's Father: Are you talking about Sylvie? She’s already home.

Jesse: Really?!

Hearing his father's words, Jesse perked up immediately. He frantically searched his pockets and finally found his phone, which had died.

He quickly borrowed his father's phone and typed in the familiar number.

The call connected quickly, and hearing her voice on the other end, Jesse finally felt his anxiety begin to lessen.

Standing in front of her house, the same spot where they met every morning to walk to school together, Jesse raised his hand and gently knocked.

The door creaked open, and she stepped out.

Under the warm yellow glow of the hallway light, Jesse carefully examined her. She had changed out of her uniform, her hair falling softly over her shoulders, and her eyes were faintly red.

He had so many questions, but as he opened his mouth, he sensed that this wasn’t the right moment, so the words remained trapped in his throat.

Instead, he feigned ignorance, cheerfully handing her the bag of fried snacks.

Jesse: You should eat these while they’re hot! Fried snacks taste best that way!

With that, Jesse turned to leave, aiming for a cool departure like the main characters in his comics, a casual wave goodbye.

But before he could take more than a few steps, she called out to him.

She asked why his eyes were so swollen, and if someone had bullied him.

Jesse turned back, shaking his head casually.

Jesse: No one bullied me. I just… I just tripped and fell on the way here.

Seeing the skeptical look on her face, Jesse waved his hands, firmly stopping her from asking any further questions.

Jesse: Alright! It’s freezing out here, you should go inside! See you tomorrow!

But later that night, as Jesse tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, he began to regret the tough, decisive act he’d put on at her doorstep.

He should have let her ask him more questions, show him more concern. Then, they could have spent more time together, talked for a bit longer.

Their time together today had been far too short...

With this thought in mind, Jesse climbed out of bed. He opened his window, and after several tries, he finally found a perfect angle, however awkward the pose.

From this vantage point, he could see if her room light was on.

Just then, his phone chimed – a text from her. She still seemed worried about him, asking if he had really been bullied.

"If anyone bullied you, tell me!" Jesse smiled happily at the text, unable to stop himself from rolling around on his bed, only to wince and grimace as he accidentally aggravated his wounds.

After a moment of careful thought, Jesse earnestly composed his reply.

Jesse: No one bullied me. I punched the guy who was talking trash about you!

Jesse: That’ll teach ‘em! No one will dare to mess with you again!

Reading her texts, overflowing with admiration, Jesse couldn’t help but bury his face in his pillow, stifling a giggle.

His phone vibrated again, this time with a call from his classmate.

Classmate: Jesse, I heard you got into a fight with some fifth graders. You’re a legend! How are you feeling?

Jesse: Feeling? I don’t feel any pain, actually. I’m really happy.

Classmate: Happy? Who’s happy after getting hurt… oh, I get it! You’re totally head over heels!

Classmate: Isn’t it, like, whatever the body releases during, like, Beethoven?

Classmate: …Oh, dopamine! Yeah, that’s the stuff that numbs the pain!

Jesse was “head over heels”?

That word, "love", seemed even more "serious" than just “like.”

His classmate continued to ramble on, but Jesse had lost interest. He hung up and searched online for the definition of “like.”

Jesse: Liking someone is when you’re really happy when you’re together…

Jesse: Yeah, I’m always really happy when I’m with her.

Jesse: Liking someone is when you miss them a lot when you’re apart… Yeah, I miss her a lot right now.

Jesse: Liking someone is when you close your eyes, and all you can see in your mind is them…

Jesse closed his eyes. In the darkness, the first image that popped into his mind was her face.

Jesse: Is this what liking someone is?

Jesse pulled up her text messages, reading them over and over, then turned off his phone and held it against his chest.

He looked towards her window, illuminated in the night sky. His heart felt like it was filled with stars.

The day, the moment, nothing had changed. It felt like any other ordinary moment, of any other day. Yet, something, hidden away in a silent corner, had shifted, changed.

Little Love Song Part 2

This feeling, this "differentness," persisted into the next day.

Classmate: Hey, Jesse, how come you’re so happy while being punished to stand in the hallway?

Classmate in the front: You’re dense. Can't you see the milk and bread in his hand? It’s definitely from his "sister." When you're in love, even the bitterest things taste sweet!

Jesse looked down at the milk and bread, secretly slipped to him by her as she pretended to walk by, and felt bubbles of sweetness rising inside him, sweeter than before.

So this feeling was called "love."

This "differentness" also stretched into the days that followed.

The female leads in his manga all started to look like her, and the previously incomprehensible love songs seemed to strike a chord now…

These "differentnesses," born from his affection for her, the sweet and the slightly tart emotions bubbling up, slowly filled his life, and were carefully recorded in his secret diary.

Gradually, rumors started spreading around school about him and her being together.

Even if she just came to his class to borrow a book, a crowd would gather around, teasing them.

Even if they simply ate lunch together in the cafeteria, everyone around them would automatically clear a space for them.

Their names were always mentioned together, turning into the sweetest lyrics in his ears.

At first, Jesse was thrilled, as if some hidden emotion in his chest was finally being fulfilled. This meant he could spend even more time with her.

So he sought her out even more often, attracting more and more attention and gossip.

Until one day, Jesse suddenly realized that what he was enjoying was troubling her.

Her friends no longer asked her to hang out, and she seemed to be carrying a different label now, with people constantly asking if she was Jesse’s “little girlfriend.”

Her studies and life, because of these "differentnesses," had become a source of worry for her.

The troubled and lost expression on her face, replacing her smile, began to haunt Jesse day and night. He wanted to do something to cheer her up, but he didn't know where to start.

Then, one day, while searching through his bag, his secret diary, filled with his heartfelt thoughts, accidentally fell to the ground.

The classmate in the front, quick as lightning, picked it up and began to read aloud from a random page.

Classmate at the front: “Carrying you, is like carrying the sunlight, wherever we go, it's a sunny day…”

Classmate: Oh, look, he wrote Y/N’s name under this love song! How romantic, Jesse!

The whole class burst into laughter, startling their homeroom teacher, who was patrolling the hallway. She snatched the diary and glared sternly at Jesse.

Teacher: Jesse, come with me to the office!

Jesse reluctantly followed his teacher, leaving the classroom under the watchful eyes of his classmates.

But as soon as he stepped into the office, he found her already inside. She looked uncomfortable, her gaze fixed on a point on the floor.

Teacher: Perfect, you're both here. There seem to be some rumors circulating at school about the two of you lately...

The teacher placed the diary, filled with love songs and her name, on the desk. In his peripheral vision, Jesse noticed her turn to look at him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

He flushed crimson, avoiding her gaze, and stared out the window at the budding trees. Inside, his heart bloomed, each tree a blossoming feeling.

After some awkward explanations, the teacher relented and didn't call their parents, but they still had to stand in the hallway for a full class period.

In the hallway, Jesse stole glances at her, noticing she was looking down at her shoes, a thoughtful frown on her face, unusually quiet.

He opened his mouth to say something to cheer her up, but was interrupted by the sudden ringing of the dismissal bell.

Students poured out of the classrooms, stopping as they passed them in the hallway.

Classmate from the front: Look who it is, Jesse and his "little girlfriend," getting punished together!

As the teasing filled the hallway, Jesse watched her face turn red, but not the cheerful blush he was used to. This was the flush of frustration and embarrassment.

With a hurt expression, she tried to explain their relationship, her voice strained and small, but her words were soon drowned out by the teasing.

At that moment, Jesse realized he had messed up.

That night, he found himself unusually sleepless.

Just like the night before everything changed, he tossed and turned in bed.

He held his phone to his chest, but his mind kept replaying images: the crumpled sticker in the sandbox, her red, frustrated face in the hallway, surrounded by taunts.

Jesse: Stop it! Jesse, just stop thinking about it.

But the more he told himself to stop, the more she filled his thoughts.

Then, he heard a gentle tapping at his window.

He rushed over, opened the window, and saw her standing outside. Her cheeks were flushed, and her expression was serious as she asked, “Jesse, is what you wrote in that diary true? Do you... do you like me?”

“Jesse, do you like me?”

Jesse stared at her, stunned. His mind went blank. He felt like he had turned into a stone, or a tree.

Before him was a sudden, dazzling meteor shower, or the unpredictable explosion of a star, and he was caught in the middle, utterly lost.

"Of course I do!" Jesse screamed inwardly. "I like you, I really, really, really like you!"

But looking at her, he remembered the troubled look she had been wearing lately.

His hands clenched at his sides, he made a difficult decision.

Jesse: ...How could I?

He heard his own voice, dry and hollow, as a sharp, wrenching pain tore at his heart.

Jesse: Don't you know? I’ve always thought of you as my sister.

Jesse: Now go back to sleep. You'll be late tomorrow, and I'm not waiting for you.

In the dim darkness, he clearly saw her expression shift and change, finally settling on something that seemed both disappointed and angry.

She stomped her foot and yelled, "You have no taste!" before running off.

With her gone, the cold wind whipped at Jesse's face, but he didn't feel it, watching her disappear into the night.

This was his decision—he couldn’t like her. He had to stop seeking her out, causing her unnecessary trouble.

He would start… tomorrow. He was determined.

That night, all the love songs seemed to change. The sweet, joyful bubbles were popped one by one, leaving a faint, bitter ache in his heart and blood.

She seemed genuinely angry. The next morning, Jesse waited by their usual meeting spot, but she didn’t appear.

"This is for the best," Jesse told himself. "If we have less contact, the rumors will die down faster, and we can go back to how things were."

He went to school alone. But as soon as he sat down, his classmate turned to him, a curious expression on his face.

Classmate from the front: Hey, where's your "little girlfriend" this morning? Did you two have a fight?

Hearing this, other classmates perked up, eavesdropping on their conversation. Jesse, putting on his most serious face, raised his voice as he replied.

Jesse: What are you talking about? She's my sister, not someone I like, and definitely not my girlfriend.

The other students were taken aback, his classmate in the front especially, who gaped.

Classmate from the front: Jesse, are you okay?

Jesse: I’m serious.

Jesse: But I do like someone. She goes to another school. So, stop with the teasing.

Classmate from the front: No way! What school? How did you meet? What’s her name? What does she look like?

Faced with his persistent classmate, Jesse had no choice but to fabricate a romantic encounter from a comic book scene, about a chance meeting in a park on a sunny weekend.

Classmate from the front: Oh, so we were all wrong...

With a shrug, the classmate turned away, and the other students dispersed, leaving Jesse relieved.

Just then, his other classmate walked in, holding a book.

Classmate: Here, your "sister" dropped this off.

Jesse: Sister...?

It took Jesse a moment to understand that the classmate was referring to her.

It was a comic book he had left at her house, with the familiar sticker on the cover.

Jesse: Where is she?

Classmate: She was just at the door... oh, she must have just left.

His head buzzed. He instinctively stood up, wanting to run after her, but stopped himself.

He could hear the bittersweet love songs playing again in some hidden corner, and in the overwhelming sadness, Jesse sighed softly.

Jesse: This is the only way we can stay together.

He slowly sat back down, letting the shadows of the swaying trees outside cover him.

“If I don’t like her, we can be together forever,” he thought.

An Unfinished Story Without a Sequel Part One

Jesse had recently noticed that the old Taoist priest was acting strangely.

It all started about a month ago. That day, the nameless old priest had taken on a big job, boasting that the money would cover everyone's living expenses for more than two months. He went out in the morning, cheerful and excited, but when he came back that evening, he was completely different.

His brothers, eagerly waiting for him to bring back some good meat and vegetables to celebrate, had been left disappointed.

Instead, they heard the loud bang of the door as the old priest slammed it shut, locking himself in his room for the whole night, even ignoring Jesse when he brought him breakfast in the morning.

A few brothers quickly divided the breakfast, then, after a moment’s hesitation, left a couple of pieces of bread for the old priest.

Jesse: Do you think Master might have messed up?

Brother Zhiyou: Impossible. He's our master, after all. If he can't handle it, nobody in all of France could.

Jesse: Then, did he perhaps try to take someone's leftovers after a ritual and get beaten up?

Brother Yunyang: How strange, how very strange...

The next day, something even stranger happened.

Jesse, yawning, came out of his room to get dressed for school. As he passed the old priest’s room, he noticed a round box in the trash can.

He squatted down and rummaged through the trash, finding a packaging box. The image of the woman in a cheongsam on the lid was already faded, and the numbers on the bottom were illegible, suggesting it had long expired.

Brother Zhiyou: Why is our little brother squatting on the ground so early? Isn't that an old-fashioned face cream? Where did you find this antique?

Zhiyou, passing by, pointed at the plastic box in Jesse’s hand, his voice filled with excitement.

In the main hall, they gathered around the box, examining it.

Brother Zhiyou: Oh, the nostalgia! I last saw this on my mom’s dresser when I was in elementary school.

Jesse: It’s older than me… Will using this really not cause any problems for the face?

Brother Zhiyou: It feels like a one-way trip to disfigurement.

Brother Yunyang: I get it! Master definitely met a formidable opponent!

Yunyang slapped his thigh, offering his speculation with a serious expression.

Brother Yunyang: As the saying goes, "Clothes make the man." Master finally understands he needs to improve not only his skills, but his looks too.

Brother Zhiyou: No, no, no. I think Master might be seeing someone. He’s sprucing up his image in his old age!

Brother Yunyang: Come on, he’s over fifty! What would anyone see in him? His only good quality is being clean.

Brother Zhiyou: Yeah, it doesn't seem like he has much to offer.

As they were deep in their discussion, Jesse was the first to spot a figure outside the temple gate.

Jesse: Someone's coming! Someone's coming! Look presentable!

They all turned to see a middle-aged woman entering the courtyard. She had dark hair swept up, sunglasses on her face, and an elegant aura.

Before any of them could speak, the old priest hurried out from the other side of the courtyard, greeting her with a wide smile.

Wuming Taoist: Welcome, esteemed guest! My apologies for the poor welcome!

Jesse took a closer look, noticing that the old priest's usually wrinkled Taoist robe seemed to have fewer creases today, and his hair looked like it had been carefully styled.

His senior brother nudged him with his elbow, winking suggestively.

Brother Zhiyou: Definitely something’s going on.

Brother Yunyang: Let's go, let's go! We can’t let Master entertain such an important guest alone!

His senior brothers pulled him along, "enthusiastically" surrounding them.

Brother Yunyang: Master, why didn't you ask us to help with the guest?

The old priest, naturally aware of their intentions, frowned and waved them away.

Wuming Taoist: Shoo, shoo! Did you finish your morning prayers? Did you sweep the floor? Did you do laundry yesterday?

Wuming Taoist: Look at you, all scruffy and bleary-eyed!

Wuming Taoist: I've got this!

Seeing the old priest's uncharacteristically stern tone, they obediently retreated, though they couldn’t resist stealing glances at what was happening inside.

The old priest personally led the woman into the main hall, offering her water, burning incense, setting up an altar, and chanting prayers for her blessings and to ward off misfortune.

Normally, he would never have the patience for these tedious rituals, brushing them off with a "sincerity is key" excuse. But this time, he even brought out his carefully preserved ritual implements.

Brother Yunyang: This is bad. Master's really fallen for her. At this rate, he might even give up his vows.

Brother Zhiyou: ...What do we do?

Finally, one of the brothers voiced their shared concern, and their mood shifted from excited gossip to anxious worry.

The Taoist temple was facing demolition, and their future was uncertain.

Although they were happy for the old priest, the fate of the temple was at stake, and they couldn’t just stand by.

Jesse also wanted to know the answer, so he hid outside the main hall, waiting for a chance to catch the old priest alone.

Jesse: Master… about the lady who came a few days ago, the one with the sunglasses, is she an old friend of yours?

Wuming Taoist: What are you talking about? She's just a regular worshipper...

Wuming Taoist: Why are you asking? Did you finish your homework? Did you sweep the floor? Did you do laundry yesterday?

After a few attempts, the old priest avoided his questions, revealing nothing. Jesse and his senior brother exchanged a glance and decided to take matters into their own hands.

When the old priest finished his ritual and saw the woman off, the other senior brothers distracted him, while Jesse and Zhiyou slipped away.

They secretly followed her, arriving at a café nestled amidst lush greenery.

Through the vine-covered floor-to-ceiling windows, they saw the woman warmly greeting the staff, who all called her "boss."

Jesse and his senior brother also entered the café, pretending to be customers, and found a secluded corner to sit in.

The woman was standing by the window, watering a pot of jasmine flowers, her aura calm and serene, though a hint of melancholy lingered in her eyes.

While ordering drinks, Jesse pulled the staff member aside to casually gather information.

Jesse: Is that lady your boss? She seems familiar.

Staff: Yes, she's our Boss Du, a very kind person. She does charity work regularly.

Jesse: But she looks a little sad?

The staff glanced at their boss in the corner, a hint of hesitation in their expression.

Staff: To be honest, we don't really know. She's been like that ever since I started working here...

From the staff's words, Jesse gradually pieced together a vague and bittersweet story—

The old priest and this woman had fallen in love at first sight, but were thwarted by societal constraints, forcing them to bury their feelings deep within their hearts.

Thinking about it, Jesse felt a wave of empathy, almost mirroring their sorrow, but then he saw Miss Du pushing open the café door and walking out again.

Brother Zhiyou: We need to follow her! It's still early to go home, she might go somewhere else.

Jesse was about to say that it seemed too intrusive, but Zhiyou had already pulled him out of the café.

However, unexpectedly, they ended up at a small cemetery nearby. The cemetery was only a ten-minute walk from the café.

Ms. Du bought a bouquet of white roses from a flower shop by the roadside and placed them in front of a tombstone, then sat down quietly.

Jesse’s eyesight was sharp, and he could clearly see the words “Beloved Husband” inscribed on the tombstone. A wave of shame suddenly washed over him.

Jesse tried to pull his senior brother away, but the person sitting by the tombstone had already turned around.

Ms. Du: You seem to have been following me for quite a while. Is there something you need?

Half an hour later, the three of them were sitting back in the café. After a moment's hesitation, Jesse truthfully explained the reason for their following her.

Jesse: We’re sorry, we shouldn’t have done that. I’m really sorry!

Brother Zhiyou: We were just... a little worried.

Ms. Du: It's alright, you were just concerned.

Ms. Du smiled gently, her warm and kind gaze feeling like a comforting breeze.

Ms. Du: If you have some time, would you like me to tell you a story?

She stirred her coffee gently, releasing a bittersweet aroma.

Ms. Du: This happened decades ago, when I was still in high school. I had a classmate who wasn’t very good at studying.

Ms. Du: The teacher always wanted the top students to help the struggling ones, so we formed a study group and naturally became classmates.

Ms. Du: To others, he was mischievous, didn't pay attention in class, and was always drawing in his textbooks.

Ms. Du: But gradually, I found he wasn’t as bad as I thought.

Ms. Du: He believed that studying wasn't very helpful for the life he wanted.

Ms. Du: He said, he wanted to be a painter.

Ms. Du: In those days, getting an education was difficult, and everyone thought he was daydreaming.

Ms. Du: But when I saw his paintings for the first time, I was deeply moved.

Ms. Du: I told him I liked his paintings, and his eyes almost welled up. He said I was the first person to like his work.

Ms. Du: To change how others saw him, I volunteered him to be in charge of the bulletin board during a class meeting.

Ms. Du: At first, he thought I was meddling and refused, which made me angry. I thought he was ungrateful.

Ms. Du: We ended up betting on exam scores, and of course, I won.

Ms. Du: He fulfilled his bet and completed the bulletin board, stunning the entire grade.

Ms. Du's gaze was somewhat distant, as if she could see the memories through the long passage of time.

Ms. Du: I remember he drew a lot of white jasmine flowers.

Ms. Du: That’s when I realized how beautiful those inconspicuous little flowers were.

Ms. Du: We put aside our differences and became friends. It was the most relaxed time of my high school years.

Ms. Du: Back then, everyone had high hopes for me.

Ms. Du: My parents expected me to get into a good university and make them proud, but no one cared about my stress.

Ms. Du: One night, my parents were busy and couldn’t pick me up, so I walked home alone.

Ms. Du: When I passed through a dark alley, someone followed me, shining a flashlight on my path as they rode a bike.

Ms. Du: I walked ahead, and he rode slowly behind me, keeping a distance.

Ms. Du: He did that every day after that, accompanying me home. We barely spoke, so my parents didn’t notice.

Ms. Du: But suddenly, rumors started circulating at school that we were dating.

Ms. Du: In those days, that was shameful.

Ms. Du: Teachers took turns talking to us, moved our seats apart, and this even affected my exam eligibility.

Ms. Du: It was the first time I saw my parents so disappointed, and the first time I couldn’t argue.

Ms. Du: Even though I knew they had no proof, I felt… guilty.

Ms. Du: I started having sleepless nights.

Ms. Du: It was then that I realized I had developed feelings for him.

The corners of her lips slightly lifted, revealing a faint, nostalgic, and relieved smile.

Ms. Du: But I was too young, and my first reaction was to run.

Ms. Du: I told him to stay away from me, not to waste my time, because we were from different worlds.

Ms. Du: He didn’t understand and followed me, asking why.

Ms. Du: He even asked if I’d talk to him if he got better grades.

Ms. Du: I didn’t answer, and he followed me, standing outside my house all night.

Ms. Du: I told myself that was the last time. From the next day on, I avoided him.

Ms. Du: Eventually, he understood and stopped looking for me.

Ms. Du: We never spoke again in school, like strangers, and the rumors gradually died down.

Ms. Du: At first, I was relieved, because my life was back on track.

Ms. Du: But I regretted those harsh words every day, constantly wanting to apologize.

Ms. Du: I didn't know if I really wanted to apologize or just see him again.

Ms. Du: Then, when the new semester started, I heard he had transferred to an art school.

Ms. Du: Everything I wanted to say, apologies or harsh words, no longer needed to be said.

That was how the story ended, before it even truly began, abruptly cut off, like a musical piece where the notes had barely formed a melody before being silenced.

Jesse understood that the boy in the story was probably the old priest, who had always been alone.

He smelled the lingering bitterness in the air and remained silent for a long time, the familiar story leaving him breathless.

His heart felt like it was being squeezed by some kind of sharp, acidic feeling, almost unable to beat.

In the silence, his senior brother spoke, breaking the quiet.

Brother Zhiyou: Can you be with him now?

Ms. Du smiled, shaking her head, but there was no trace of regret in her smile.

Ms. Du: Those were things from many years ago. We’re just friends now.

Her tone was calm, so calm that it was like a breeze, sweeping away all the fragments of the past.

An Unfinished Story Without a Sequel Part Two

After leaving the café, Jesse and his senior brother returned to the Taoist temple, each lost in their own thoughts.

The old priest stood at the gate, his face dark, holding a bamboo broom for sweeping the courtyard.

Wuming Taoist: Tell me, where did you guys go?

The senior brothers frantically gestured to them, hinting that their actions had been discovered.

Brother Zhiyou: Master, it wasn’t little brother's fault, it was all my idea!

Jesse: It was my fault, just punish me.

Wuming Taoist: Sigh, you two…

Since they didn't try to escape responsibility this time, the old priest sighed deeply and, with a hint of resignation, waved them away.

As midnight settled, casting a cool, silent stillness over the temple, Jesse, unable to sleep, noticed the old priest also awake.

Seeing Jesse approach, the old priest hastily shoved something into his pocket. Jesse, with sharp eyes, caught a glimpse of a very old, worn-out piece of chalk.

He walked over and sat down beside the old priest, joining him on the doorstep.

Jesse: Don't bother hiding it, I saw it.

Wuming Taoist: What are you talking about? I'm not hiding anything.

The old priest stubbornly pretended nothing was amiss. Jesse, from behind his back, pulled out a mesh bag of old metal bottle caps, creating a clinking sound.

Wuming Taoist: What's that contraption you have? Old bottle caps?

Jesse: And you still keep a broken piece of chalk?

Wuming Taoist: You wouldn't understand. It's a memory.

Jesse: Yeah, this is a memory I kept on purpose too.

Every time he and she drank something together, he would secretly keep the bottle caps, slowly accumulating a whole bagful.

Orange soda caps dominated, and even after all this time, a faint, sweet and sour scent lingered when you got close.

Jesse: Master, don’t you want to talk to someone? I can be your sounding board.

Wuming Taoist: If you put half this curiosity into your studies, I wouldn’t have to worry about finding a successor.

The old priest started his usual grumbling.

He complained about their laziness and their rebellious behavior, but Jesse kept watching him quietly. As he spoke, his voice trailed off, his eyes avoiding contact.

Jesse: Old man, admitting you failed isn’t that hard. Another loser is sitting right next to you.

The old priest finally spoke.

Wuming Taoist: I ran into her again at a funeral. Her husband’s funeral.

Jesse: Did you recognize her right away?

Wuming Taoist: No, this isn’t a TV drama. After so much time, who recognizes who? Especially someone like me, who can’t see clearly.

Wuming Taoist: After the service, when they were seeing me out, I heard someone call her name, and I realized who she was.

Wuming Taoist: I had almost forgotten her name.

Although the old priest spoke casually, Jesse sensed he was lying.

Jesse: Why did you suddenly transfer schools?

Wuming Taoist: Did she… did she tell you everything?

The old priest was taken aback, realizing Jesse knew the whole story.

Jesse: Yes, everything, from when you met to when you broke up. Including all the details.

Having his embarrassing youth laid bare before his disciple, the old priest blushed, a mixture of shame and embarrassment, and heavily tapped Jesse on the head.

Jesse: So you were secretly practicing iron palm!

Wuming Taoist: This is between heaven, earth, you, me, and her. Not a fourth person can know.

Jesse wanted to mention his senior brother Zhiyou also knew, but he swallowed the words.

Wuming Taoist: Back then, I didn't pay much attention to her words. I knew when she wanted to push someone away, she'd hurt them.

Wuming Taoist: I wanted to keep pursuing her, but then I saw her crying alone. That day, her exam eligibility was taken away.

Wuming Taoist: I finally understood that if we stayed together, she would be the one getting hurt, not me. I volunteered to transfer schools.

Wuming Taoist: I was so naïve back then.

Wuming Taoist: I thought, if I couldn’t give her happiness now, I’d become someone who could stand shoulder to shoulder with her, and then confess again.

Jesse: What happened then? You never saw each other again?

Wuming Taoist: Do I look like someone who gives up halfway?

Wuming Taoist: I eventually got into a university in her city. I thought I was ready.

Wuming Taoist: When I went to her school, I saw her laughing and talking with her classmates. She wasn’t the introverted girl I knew anymore.

The old priest sighed wistfully, recalling those days.

Wuming Taoist: I suddenly realized she didn’t seem to need me anymore. So, I left.

Silence filled the night. Jesse sat with his master on the doorstep, the starlight hanging above them.

Jesse: Master, what’s it like to meet someone you loved again?

Wuming Taoist: Actually, I don’t feel much of anything.

The old priest scratched his head, his expression strange and yet relieved.

Wuming Taoist: I imagined it countless times when I was young, but I never expected to feel this calm when it actually happened.

Jesse asked many more questions, including the same silly one his senior brother had asked: “Will you two get back together?”

The old priest laughed, waving his hands.

Wuming Taoist: Haha, no way!

Jesse: Why not!

Jesse, irked by his laughter, stood up, shouting incoherently.

Jesse: If you like someone, why don’t you pursue them? You're both still alive, why have regrets?

Jesse: Even if you missed your chance then, you’ve finally met again. Do you know how small the odds are? Why not seize the opportunity!

He blurted out a torrent of words, expressing all his pent-up feelings, unsure if he was talking about the old priest or himself.

His eyes welled up, his voice hoarse, as if he were about to cry.

Jesse: If you miss this chance, you might miss out for a lifetime!

Wuming Taoist: Silly boy, it’s too late.

The old priest shook his head slowly.

Wuming Taoist: People at this age don't chase after love anymore. We've missed too much time.

Wuming Taoist: Not all regrets can be fixed. Now, I only want, and can only, be by her side as a friend.

Jesse: That’s cowardly! You’re hiding behind friendship, fooling yourself! How do you know she doesn't want to be with you again?!

Wuming Taoist: Why don’t you set an example for me, then?

Hearing the old priest’s playful challenge, Jesse stopped mid-sentence.

He understood what the old priest meant, but he stammered, his stubbornness finally winning out.

The old priest stood up, patting his shoulder.

Wuming Taoist: You’re still young. Don't leave yourself with regrets.

That night, Jesse didn't sleep at all.

Resting his arm under his head, he gazed longingly through the window’s narrow opening at the distant, unattainable moon.

In the hazy moonlight, he recalled many past scenes, as if he were back at that night when she stood by his window.

Now that he was no longer an innocent boy, awkwardly tasting the first pangs of love, the feelings hidden in his heart grew clearer day by day.

He pulled countless threads from those fragmented memories, piecing them together to form a complete map.

Listening to her favorite songs and reading her favorite books was to have something to talk about with her, and self-studying advanced textbooks was to impress her.

Working a part-time job, even when he was exhausted, to buy her an MP3, was to see the look of surprise and joy on her face.

Helping the duty monitor with chores, pretending to leave school late, was to walk home with her, and deliberately not bringing his bike key was to ride with her.

Wanting to be taller, was to catch her attention on the basketball court and to protect her from falling on the bus. Even getting detention, he wanted to stand where he could see her classroom.

The bread she handed him was the most delicious food he had ever eaten, and the orange soda they shared filled every memory of summer…

He had countless opportunities to confess his feelings to her.

But back then, he was too young, too clumsy. He thought his feelings would only hurt her, so he couldn’t love.

Every time he couldn't resist, he would think: wait until he was older, freer, more mature, until he became the best version of himself…

When that perfect moment arrived, he would confess to her.

Jesse raised his hand, trying to catch the moonlight streaming through the window. It slipped through his fingers, shattering into fragments that landed in his eyes.

All youthful stories seemed to end without a conclusion, unable to escape the cliché of innocent childhood friendships leading to separate lives as adults.

The fate of people meeting was such, not every connection had a result, these connections were made up of a thousand different miracle moments that needed a response.

Jesse: I miss you so much. I really want to see you.

The surging desire in his heart threatened to overwhelm him.

He wondered if he would become like his master when he saw her again.

He longed to see her again, but feared she had found someone else, or that she had forgotten him.

So, he repeated to himself: she hated him, for his presumptuousness and unannounced departure, so it was normal for her to forget him.

And “Jesse”, who left without saying goodbye, didn't deserve to stand before her anymore.

In this melancholy, dawn slowly arrived.

Ms. Du came to the temple again, this time to set up a memorial tablet for her husband.

After the old priest completed the ritual, the two of them sat in the courtyard, drinking tea. Their conversation was natural and calm, like that of close friends.

Jesse learned that Ms. Du's name contained the character “Mò,” meaning “jasmine.”

Those small, white flowers, their lingering fragrance, perhaps had never faded from the master’s memory.

Watching their backs, Jesse suddenly remembered what the old priest had said that night.

When a relationship transcends the stage of love, two people could only be friends, the longest of friends.

The First Dance Part One

In the pre-dawn chill, passing vehicles stretched their headlights into long, blurred streaks of light.

Jesse, having just finished the final performance of his musical, emerged from the theater well past midnight, the last of his makeup washed away.

He pulled his coat tighter around him, indulging in the rare luxury of a taxi.

Driver: Are you an actor from the theater? I’ve heard your show’s been on a national tour, very popular…

Responding absently to the driver's casual chatter, Jesse finally had a moment to pull out his phone and check the only social media account he followed closely.

She, in a country far away, had posted a picture of her late-night snack.

Steam rose from a bowl of instant noodles, topped with an egg, and reflected in the window was her contented expression, like a happy little squirrel.

Jesse’s eyebrows arched, and the strain of fatigue softened on his face as his fingers moved to the comment section.

Just then, a message from his manager, Da Liang, popped up, pushing aside the notification.

Da Liang (SMS): Jesse, have you heard? Da Liang (SMS): That director, Thomas Wise, is holding open auditions for the male and female leads in his new musical. Da Liang (SMS): And he’s decided to cast only newcomers! Da Liang (SMS): The male lead’s character is right around your age. I’ve sent you the audition script. Da Liang (SMS): Take a good look at it over the next few days, and prepare for the audition next week.

His excitement was palpable in every word. Jesse sent a brief reply and opened the attached script on his phone.

Even the short synopsis and a few sample scenes were compelling. The male protagonist’s character was mysterious and powerful, filled with charisma.

Jesse read a particular scene of confrontation, tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the dialogue, reciting the lines silently.

Driver: …Sir, sir? You've arrived.

Snapping out of his reverie, Jesse paid the driver and stepped out of the taxi, the script's lines still echoing in his mind.

Despite being drawn to the male lead's character, he didn't think he had a great chance of landing the role.

Not only would the competition be fierce, but mastering the character with his current skill level would require considerable effort.

Although he was gradually making a name for himself in the musical theater world, his studies and the Taoist temple still weighed on his mind, so he didn't have much ambition when it came to his career.

Jesse’s life was never defined by "musts" and "absolutes." He often considered himself easily satisfied, maintaining a just-enough approach to everything in life.

Constantly striving to be number one would only exhaust him, and he already had too many things to worry about.

"I don't necessarily have to play the lead, and I don't have to pursue everything I like," he told himself.

Performing allowed him a brief escape from reality, a pursuit of peace and joy, and it provided a way to support himself and those he cared about. That was enough for him.

As he walked towards the dark silhouette of the Wuyou Taoist Temple, Jesse settled on his usual, most comfortable compromise.

Rather than risk missing out on everything and earning nothing, he decided he’d pursue a role he was confident he could handle. He’d be happy with any role, big or small, and he would do his best to play it well.

On the day of the audition, the theater’s audition hall was packed, nearly overflowing with aspiring newcomers.

Ambition burned in everyone's eyes, and they were all pulling out every stop to secure a major role, especially the coveted male lead.

Jesse blended into the crowd, wearing only a simple white shirt and jeans, looking more like a lost college student.

The auditions proceeded quickly, but the complex and somewhat unappealing character of the male third lead, the assassin, remained largely unclaimed.

He was a brooding villain, saved by the female lead and becoming her personal killer, later betraying her out of unrequited love, and ultimately sacrificing himself to protect her.

During a break in the waiting line, Jesse, having already memorized the male lead's lines, helped a fellow actor he’d performed with rehearse.

Actor: Do you know who she is?

Jesse, holding the script, stared at the protagonist with cold, dark eyes, speaking in a chilling, almost maniacal tone.

Jesse: Of course, I know. She is the queen of the underworld, a god who must not be defiled.

Actor: You dare call a “demon” a “god”!

Jesse: She is your demon, but she is my god, my salvation.

A fervent light burned in the assassin’s eyes, more intense than any natural-born believer.

Jesse: I will destroy everything that stands in her way, including myself.

Actor: Pathetic fool, yet you betrayed her.

Jesse: If you call that a “betrayal”, then there is no faith in this world!

Jesse: No one knows better than I, I am forever her believer, even if it means proving it with my life.

Gradually, the other actor was drawn into the scene by Jesse’s performance. However, this “performance” was abruptly interrupted.

Director: You’re it! You’re the “assassin” I’ve been looking for!

Jesse snapped out of character, looked at the beaming middle-aged man before him, and realized it was director Thomas Wise.

Jesse: Hello, director. I’m Jesse, auditioning for the male lead.

The director immediately shook his hand warmly, his eyes glowing with the kindness of a proud parent.

Wise: Jesse, would you be willing to play the male third lead? I think you’re perfect for the role.

Wise: Or are you still aiming for the male lead?

His manager, Da Liang, was frantically signaling him to refuse, but Jesse paused to consider.

Jesse: Why do you think I’m right for this role?

Wise: I saw something in your eyes, and you’re sincere.

Wise: To be honest, we were having a headache. Too many people are here chasing instant fame.

Wise: Most of the performances were superficial, and don’t even get me started on the auditions for the other roles.

The director waved his hands, expressing his dissatisfaction with the earlier auditions.

Wise: So, are you interested in playing the assassin?

Jesse: Thank you for your invitation. I accept.

Wise: Oh, that’s fantastic! Someone from the staff will contact your agent later!

The audition ended rather abruptly. Da Liang drove Jesse home, still grumbling.

Da Liang: Jesse, what were you thinking? You could have gone for the male lead! More screen time, better character, such a great opportunity!

Da Liang: But no, you had to agree to play the assassin. Less screen time, and if you don't play it right, you’ll get flak from the audience.

Jesse flipped through the script, his usual habit of letting things go in one ear and out the other, not seeing any issue.

Jesse: A role is good enough for me.

Da Liang sighed again, trying to reason with him.

Da Liang: That’s easy for you to say, but your fans want to see you play the lead.

Da Liang: Playing the male lead would be more profitable for the company, and it’d be better for your career.

Da Liang: Besides, your master, your senior brothers, your friends, they’d all be happy and proud to see you land the lead role.

Da Liang: Sometimes I don’t understand you. Are you just not bothered, or are you afraid of playing the lead and decide not to risk it?

Da Liang: Even if you don’t do a good job, no one’s going to blame you. You’re just too hard on yourself, this kid. You lack a sense of security.

Jesse’s casual demeanor faded, and he considered these words seriously for the first time.

Growing up, he rarely fought for anything. He only wanted what was rightfully his, and that was enough to fill his heart.

As long as it didn’t involve her, he didn’t care about being number one, or how others saw him.

But now he suddenly realized that, as an actor, he also had to consider his fans.

Their affection and support were like scorching comets, suddenly appearing in his orbit. He felt their warmth, and he didn’t want to push them away.

As for Da Liang’s comment about his lack of security, he admitted, after a moment’s silence, that he was right.

Jesse: Sorry, I’ll try my best to go for the lead next time.

Even after he got home and went to bed, this issue lingered in his mind.

In terms of personality, he wasn’t someone who avoided risks, but his ingrained experiences told him that peace and security were the best life, he hated sudden changes.

On stage, Jesse became a maniacal, cold-blooded killer, obeying only the commands of his sole "god."

Dressed in all black, he roamed through purgatory, reaping countless lives, yet longing for his "god’s" favor.

Wise: Excellent! Jesse, take a break!

Jesse left the stage, drinking water to soothe his dry throat. He habitually pulled out his phone from his bag and opened the social media app he followed most closely.

A new post from five minutes ago appeared at the top of his feed. It was a picture of an airport, with a short caption:

"Landed safely, starting a new chapter of my studies~"

Jesse froze. He clicked on the photo almost unconsciously, confirming that it was indeed an international airport in a neighboring country, and double-checked the account.

Then his heartbeat suddenly quickened, pounding in his chest, becoming increasingly urgent.

He suddenly realized that they were only separated by a narrow strait, and that the musical would also be performed there…

Would he run into her? Would she come to see his show?

A jumble of thoughts filled his mind, even his breathing became rapid, and more questions arose.

Why did she suddenly go abroad? Would she get used to life there? Would she make friends? Would she be bullied at school?

Countless impulses combined into a surging tide, making him want to rush to the airport and go to her side.

His fingers tapped on the airport's website, finding that the next flight was in fifty minutes, and it would only take twenty minutes to get to the airport from where he was.

He quickly planned out different routes in his mind, but ultimately stopped himself.

Wise: Jesse, you’re up!

Jesse put his phone down, forced all extraneous thoughts out of his mind, and returned to the stage.

This time, he was even more earnest than before, a fire burning within him, consuming his life force.

Facing the empty auditorium, his gaze became distant, as if he could see her eyes crossing time and space to land on him.

Suddenly, he felt a surge of regret.

Why did he turn down the opportunity? Why didn’t he fight for the male lead?

In this moment, he only wanted to command her attention.

Ever since he learned she was studying abroad, the airport's booking website had become one of Jesse’s most visited pages.

The distance between them was now only an hour’s flight.

He’d asked friends of friends to find out the name of her school, her student dormitory, and even obtained her class schedule.

In his wildest moments, he even considered transferring to the same school, but his lingering concerns stopped him – they might not even be considered friends anymore.

The prospect of seeing her again was like sunshine after a long rain, making Jesse's life brighter.

Smiles returned to his face, and even Yu Yang couldn’t help but tease him about it.

Yu Yang: Someone who usually seems so reliable and mature, so lovesick!

Jesse didn’t argue, instead seriously agreeing.

Some people’s world is vast, big enough to contain the entire universe. But some people’s world is small, just another person’s heart.

Yu Yang: Then if you like her so much, why don’t you tell her?

Jesse stopped smiling, his finger hovering. He thought of his reply to the old priest, thought of the reasons he’d given himself countless times.

Jesse: Because… because she wouldn’t want to see me. I'm just a friend from the past, or a neighbor kid…

Yu Yang chuckled softly, slapping him hard on the back.

Yu Yang: Don’t tell me you’re content to be just a friend or a little brother. I don’t believe it.

Yu Yang: Waiting and giving in silence won’t do. It’s not fair to her either.

Yu Yang: After a while, your relationship will really change. Then, in her eyes, you’ll really just be a little brother.

Yu Yang: Go, go see her. Make her believe you’re someone worth loving.

These words felt like the affirmation he’d been missing for so long, and a seed buried deep in his heart suddenly took root and sprouted.

The First Dance Part Two

The summer sky overhead was clear and inviting, and the rustling oak leaves seemed to echo the restless excitement in his heart.

He knew the route to her school by heart. As he stepped out of the airport, the distance between them shrinking, his heart pounded faster and faster.

Thump, thump—

If there were an app to show the distance, it would show nearly ten thousand kilometers rapidly closing to just one meter.

If there were an app to show his heartbeat, it would reveal his urgency, his nervousness, and his overwhelming anticipation.

Standing at the university's entrance, even though it was a foreign land, an unfamiliar country, a strange sense of timidness, of being close yet hesitant, washed over him.

Jesse pulled a baseball cap down low, effortlessly blending into the liberal arts atmosphere of the campus.

He followed the chattering students between classes and entered the lecture hall at the end of the corridor.

If this moment were captured in a long, cinematic shot, it would be remarkably ordinary.

A typical lecture hall, marked by the passage of time, a common and somewhat tedious lesson on design principles...

Jesse sat in the corner of the back row, suppressing the urge to rush forward.

His gaze, like a precise lens, locked onto the only sight that mattered, the only unique landscape in his view.

A smile played on her lips, her hair softly cascading over her shoulders, gradually overlapping with the memory of her.

She looked almost unchanged from the past, yet so different.

Just watching her from a distance filled Jesse with immense satisfaction, as if the missing piece of his hollow heart had finally been found.

During the lecture, she occasionally jotted notes in her book, sometimes turning to whisper a few words to her friend beside her.

And each time, the sunlight filtering through the window illuminated her face.

That moment seemed to stretch into slow motion, dissecting her smile into countless bright and beautiful frames.

Jesse, his chin resting on his hand, was lost in her image.

Outside, the clamorous cicadas buzzed the story of summer, and patches of sunlight, fractured by leaves, glittered on the floor by the podium.

It was as if they had returned to a time long past, only this time, they were in the same classroom.

The length of the class was infinitely extended in his mind, each tick of the clock's hand becoming a story in itself.

The ringing of the dismissal bell shattered his brief reverie, and Jesse followed her out of the building from afar.

He quickened his pace, closing the distance easily, just as he had imagined.

Then, he heard her laughter, and his steps abruptly faltered.

Jesse: Maybe I should wait a little longer…

Nourishing these thoughts, he followed her into the cafeteria.

She sat with a few friends, seemingly complaining about the excessive workload the teacher had assigned, then burst into laughter as they were amused by something else. The group was in high spirits.

Her expression was always one of contentment when eating, but if she tasted something she disliked, her face would scrunch up in displeasure.

Jesse couldn’t help but mirror her satisfaction and her displeasure.

After dinner, she parted ways with her friends and entered a small supermarket. He followed her, and suddenly, his heartbeat quickened.

His palms grew sweaty as he approached, stopping at the shelves, pretending to examine them.

On the other side of the shelf, she picked out snacks, murmuring to herself, “This flavor looks weird,” and, “Why don’t they have the one I had last time?”

They were so close.

The “Long time no see” he’d rehearsed countless times was stuck in his throat, and his feet felt rooted to the spot, unable to take another step.

“Ah, found it!”

Jesse looked up abruptly, realizing that because of the circular layout of the store, she had moved to his other side!

Panicked, he turned and fled.

“Clang!” The sample counter nearly toppled from his clumsy retreat. He felt her curious gaze on his back.

Escaping the supermarket, Jesse hid behind a large tree, and found a text message from Yu Yang.

Yu Yang (SMS): How’s it going? Any progress?

Jesse’s thumb hovered over the keyboard, unable to type a single word.

He had seen her, but then what?

He felt like a fugitive in a love story, afraid to meet, afraid to greet, fearing that any approach would be a death sentence.

The summer sun blazed brighter, but the story waiting to be written remained hidden away.

During this time, he performed each show with extra dedication, and his portrayal of the assassin gradually gained recognition and popularity.

Thus, he was more anxious for her familiar form to appear within the audience, yet also more nervous, that seeing him would cause her painful memories.

He sang the assassin’s final soliloquy onstage, wearing his black robes, almost as if he was dissecting his own yearning.

Jesse: How I long to leave a mark in your eyes, to make your smiles and tears belong only to me.

Jesse: If you are a god, then I am your most loyal believer.

Jesse: If you are a demon, then I am your most ruthless blade.

Jesse: I would burn everything for you, and forsake the light. Please look at me, until my last breath...

The assassin burned for his god until his dying moment, and Jesse’s passionate performance on stage was only for that one moment.

-- If she appeared, she would see the very best of Jesse.

But she never appeared.

Jesse thought, disheartened, perhaps she still didn't want to see him.

The month-long run of the show came to an end, and summer in England was drawing to a close. Despite his reluctance, the time for farewell had arrived.

The day before his departure, Jesse happened to learn that the university was hosting an arts week, and that night, there would be a ball.

Suddenly, he remembered that he still owed her a performance.

This was the first time, and perhaps the last.

Finally, he gathered his courage, and wearing a mask, he went to her school.

The mask concealed his smile, and also his timidity.

When Jesse finally stood before her, he felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

Jesse: May I, may I have this dance?

Under the vast starry sky, he held out his hand to her.

She looked surprised, but graciously placed her hand in his.

He gently cradled her back, holding the person he had missed for so long.

All the cherished memories of their youth intertwined into a melody, echoing in that moment.

In the romantic waltz, they were like distant stars and planets, drawn by gravity, endlessly rotating, yet never able to fully close the gap.

He wished the waltz could last forever, that their meeting would be more than just this dance.

As the dance ended, she asked his name, her voice bright with joy.

Jesse released her hand, the smile behind his mask resembling a sob.

He said nothing, turning and rushing out of the square as if afraid of regretting his decision.

He imagined he heard the clock striking twelve, the magic ending, the final note sounding on his youth.

Those innocent, confused feelings, those missed chances, those unspoken promises... the emotions that had once held him captive, stumbling and trapped, had finally found an exit.

In the time he was absent, she had become more beautiful and happier than he could have ever imagined.

Her life was so bright and vibrant, wonderful even without his presence.

Even if this was the ending they wrote, he felt no regret.

One Step Away

Jesse's Mirage: It's late. Aren't you going to sleep? You haven't had a proper night's sleep since you ran away from the ball.

Jesse: I can't sleep.

Jesse's Mirage: Not sleeping makes you short.

Jesse: I regret summoning you. Can you disappear now?

Jesse's Mirage: Five years ago, I had such a terrible temper. No wonder I made Master angry every day.

Jesse: Don’t crouch down and look at me like that!

Jesse's Mirage: I guarantee, you'll grow taller.

Jesse: Really?!

Jesse's Mirage: I wouldn't lie to you.

Jesse's Mirage: Alright, spill it. You called me here, you must have something important to ask. But just so you know, I'm not going to tell you the lottery numbers.

Jesse: Do I look that greedy?

Jesse: Judging by the way you look, future me must be doing pretty well, huh? How's the temple? Is Mom feeling any better?

Jesse's Mirage: Where should I begin? The temple is still there, thriving with visitors. Mom is doing well, nothing to worry about.

Jesse's Mirage: As for me... as for you, after graduating from college, you became a musical actor, quite famous, with a good income, no more money worries.

Jesse's Mirage: All in all, nothing particularly happy, nothing particularly sad. Just a regular life.

Jesse: That's it? Nothing else?

Jesse's Mirage: That's already quite an achievement.

Jesse: Isn't she in your life?

Jesse's Mirage: Because five years from now, you chose not to return to the country, I never got to see her.

Jesse: Return to the country?

Jesse's Mirage: Yeah. Five years later, your company wanted you to expand into the Asian market, but you gave it up for various reasons.

Jesse's Mirage: Since I’m here, in your dream, I'd like to see her. Do you mind if I turn on the lights across from us?

Jesse's Mirage: I remember when you rented this apartment, it was because from this window, you could see a window across the street.

Jesse's Mirage: When that window lights up, it reminds me of looking at her room from my own.

Jesse: ...I don't mind. Because I miss her too.

Jesse's Mirage: So nostalgic… to be honest, I haven’t had a dream like this in a long time.

Jesse: Even in dreams, you can’t see her?

Jesse's Mirage: Right. It’s like that with most things, isn't it? The more you miss, the harder it is to dream about.

Jesse: So, all you’ve gone through, is it the punishment for my hesitation and doubt now?

Jesse's Mirage: Punishment? Yeah, it’s a punishment.

Jesse: Do you resent me? Sorry I couldn’t make you the person you wanted to be. You must hate the me now, right?

Jesse's Mirage: Fool, I am you, and all your decisions were mine too.

Jesse's Mirage: You've been living your life as best as you could.

Jesse: You aren't very happy, are you?

Jesse: I should be happy, life seems a little easier now. But for some reason, I feel really sad inside.

Jesse's Mirage: Because you're still hesitating, still holding onto a glimmer of hope. You're torn between accepting fate and being unwilling to.

Jesse's Mirage: Let me ask you, of everything I just said, can you tell what was real, and what was a lie?

Jesse: No. No lies.

Jesse's Mirage: See? You still can’t tell your own lies. I lied to you as easily as you lie to yourself now.

Jesse: What?

Jesse's Mirage: “I haven't seen her” – that's a lie. Because the current me is facing the choice of whether to return to the country.

Jesse's Mirage: Your expression, do you want me to go back?

Jesse: Why wouldn't you go back? Since you have a chance to meet, why not seize it...

Jesse's Mirage: Maybe because every time I hesitated, I told myself that she's happy now, that's enough, I shouldn't bother her.

Jesse: But there's no worse outcome than this.

Jesse: There's no worse outcome than a story that ends without a conclusion.

Jesse: Is seeing her happy and well really enough? You should go back!

Jesse's Mirage: This trip wasn't wasted, you finally understand.

Jesse's Mirage: Jesse, always remember what you just said.

The Underlying Resentment

In the summer of my twenty-first year, I cleared my schedule and flew back to France for Yu Yang's wedding.

Yu Yang said his brother and sister-in-law were childhood sweethearts, kept apart by their parents until they reunited in college. He gave me a knowing smile, telling me not to ask him to be my best man when I got married, it was too much work.

I knew what he was getting at and dismissed it, telling him he was imagining things. Yu Yang asked me, surprised, "Haven't you ever thought about marrying her?" It went without saying that "her" in my world could only mean one person.

-- I had. It was a daily thought.

-- But love isn’t about ownership; her happiness matters more. A noble sentiment, easy to say, requiring no effort, and used to justify my cowardice and lingering resentment.

Unexpectedly, that day came sooner than I thought. I attended another wedding. Music filled the air, but looking at the unfamiliar face of the man on the stage, I wondered why I was there. Just then, the bride, in her white veil, walked slowly past me.

It was her.

Even her back view was unmistakable. She was too radiant; with her presence, the whole world paled. Suddenly, a flood of memories surged up. I saw the corridor where we stood in detention together, the sunlight on her beautiful profile. I saw two figures huddled together in the winter night, sharing a roasted sweet potato, and how I took a bite from where she had, when she wasn't looking.

I really do love her so much.

Why isn't it me beside her? Why not me! These words echoed in my mind.

The bride paused on the stage, turned around, and I saw that familiar face, buried deep within my heart. She looked so happy, it made me want to cry.

I thought I should wish her well, but I just couldn't breathe, jealousy, regret, and resentment flooding over me like a tidal wave. It turned out, when this moment truly arrived, I wasn't as noble as I thought. I was neither calm nor resigned; I couldn't let her go.

As the final note faded, I watched the girl I'd loved for over a decade on stage and made a decision. She wasn't just my youth; she was my entire life. I would reach out to her. I would take her away. I would be the one standing beside her. So, I stood up and rushed toward her, but just as we were a step away, I woke up.

Gazing at the bouquet of flowers that had fallen into my arms during the day, by the window, I called my manager, telling him I wanted to develop my career in Asia. I needed to see her.

People seek meaning in reality through their dreams, and in that moment, I grasped tightly onto that hazy, dreamlike vision.

PHONE CALL

Jesse: The sun's especially nice today, don't you think? It reminds me of our picnic days!

You: It is lovely, but we've had so many picnics together, which one are you thinking of?

Jesse: Why, today's picnic, of course!

You: So sudden! But I haven't prepared anything.

Jesse: Spontaneous picnics are the most adventurous!

Jesse: So, may I ask, Princess, would you accompany the Tangyuan Knight on a quest to the supermarket for adventure supplies?

You: Of course!

You: After we get the supplies, where will our adventure take us?

Jesse: Well... I've compiled a list of all the places you've mentioned wanting to visit, and numbered them.

Jesse: You can randomly pick a number from the list, and we'll go wherever it leads us.

Jesse: Since it's an unknown adventure, let's keep it completely carefree!

You: Wow, that's a great idea!

You: But I'm usually so unlucky. What if I pick something boring? Would that be a waste of time...?

Jesse: Then we'll draw again, and head to the next destination!

Jesse: Besides, with the lucky "Summer Carp" (Xia Jinli) around, we're sure to have good fortune.

Jesse: As long as we're together, wherever we go, I'll think of it as the most wonderful adventure.

TEXT MESSAGES

Jesse: It’s not even next Monday yet, but I'm already getting that Monday blues feeling. You: Huh? You have work next Monday too? Jesse: I have rehearsals, and I don't know when they'll end... Jesse: But I'll try my best to pick you up after you get off work! Jesse: We can go out for something good to eat, and relax together! You: Adults really have it tough... (sigh) Jesse: Yeah! But if it was too easy, life would lose a lot of its charm, right? Jesse: When it's a career you love, the sense of accomplishment you get from finishing work is irreplaceable. Jesse: Like how you always say work is tiring, but when you’re immersed in it, you shine. You: Wait, I was supposed to be comforting you, how did you end up cheering me up? Jesse: Oops, caught me. It's just that I saw your social media post, and you seemed down about Monday. Jesse (Voice MSG): Who cheers up who isn't important. What matters is, we both have the courage to face Monday, right? You: Right! I feel charged and ready for next Monday now! Jesse: That's awesome! Jesse: Not just next Monday, but the Monday after that, and the Monday after that... every Monday from now on, I’ll be here to recharge you!

TIMELINE POST

Jesse: Almost fooled everyone in the board game! I think I deserve to call myself a psychological master!

You: Hmph! Even a psychological master couldn’t fool me~

Jesse's Response: Because I can't lie to you, ever. TAT

S2 Chapter 3-01

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