Stories about Y/n creating bonds with characters from series and films.
(I don't own the characters)
PG-13!
1. **Language:** Mild to moderate profanity, but not extreme or pervasive.
2. **Violence:** Some intense or realistic violence may be present...
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The school hallways buzzed with the familiar hum of students chattering, lockers slamming, and the shuffle of feet as the day wound down. Y/n moved through the crowd, her thoughts heavy as she made her way to the English classroom for her last period. This class was different. Unlike the other teachers, who seemed distant or uninspired, Mr. Tai Lung captivated her attention in ways she hadn't expected.
Mr. Tai Lung had joined the school only a few months ago, taking over for the previous teacher who had retired suddenly. He was a striking presence, sharp in both intellect and appearance, with an intense demeanor that commanded the respect of everyone in the room. The way he taught literature had a way of pulling students into the world of books, making even the most boring texts feel alive.
But for Y/n, something else had started to develop. The usual teacher-student relationship had begun to blur, though she hadn't quite noticed when it first happened. It was in the way he looked at her when she spoke in class, how his feedback on her essays always seemed a little more personal than the others. The words of praise felt intimate, like he saw something in her that no one else did.
And that was where the danger began.
Y/n entered the classroom and sat in her usual spot by the window, her notebook already out and ready. The class was small today, many students skipping due to an upcoming break, leaving only a handful of people scattered around the room.
Mr. Tai Lung's eyes met hers the moment she walked in, and he gave her a slight nod, his intense gaze lingering just a second too long. She felt the familiar flutter in her stomach, unsure if it was flattery or nerves.
As the class began, he moved through the lesson like usual, his voice low and commanding. But today, the discussion seemed different. He talked about themes of obsession and power in the book they were reading, and every time he made a point, his eyes would flicker toward Y/n, as if the words were meant for her alone.
After the lesson ended, most of the students quickly packed up and left, eager to start their weekend. Y/n stayed behind, pretending to organize her notes as the room emptied. It had become a routine. He would often call her up after class, discussing her writing or asking about her thoughts on the lesson.
"Y/n, could you stay for a moment?" His voice was calm, almost too calm.
She nodded, her heart beating faster as she approached his desk.
"Your essay," he began, lifting a paper from the stack. "It was remarkable. You really understand the complexity of the characters."
Y/n smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Thanks, Mr. Tai Lung. I just... I really liked the way you explained it in class. It made everything click."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. "You have a gift for words, Y/n. Not many students see things the way you do."
The compliment felt heavier than usual. It wasn't just about the essay. It was something more.
