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bulletproofscales · 4 years ago

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the realest of selves

this is the namkook fic i told yall i was working on, the birthday friend already recived it so i thougth id post it! its not feederism and its very fluffy. hope you enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723872/chapters/70426767

9/9 chapters 6.4 words

tags: established relationship, misunderstandings, fluff, happy ending

the one where jungkook falls in love again through namjoon’s poems, without knowing its him

Moma Muji.

That's the brand of the notebook Jungkook has in his hands… or, hand actually. It's rather small.

Must be passport sized.

He doesn’t own one of these.

He fumbles with it curiously. No, Jungkook doesn’t pick random objects he finds laying around; his mother raised him right.

But this wasn’t just any random object, this notebook had been left abandoned at Jungkook’s favorite desk in the college library. Specifically perfect because nobody used it: desk free of bumps from the scribbles or from people who wrote with too much force, minimal amount of gum stuck beneath it (He aspired for zero, but his dreams had been crushed pretty early on to his college life). The positioning was perfect too, far enough that the library’s wifi didn’t reach it, which was practically useless with the amount of work covered students plaguing the place constantly; but if he needed too, he could connect to the wifi from the classrooms nearby (And Jungkook went to the library at night time so… no classes happening at all)

It's the perfect desk and if something was left forgotten here, then it means it isn’t his anymore.

Which means he has the right to investigate.

The ragged, leather like texture feels expensive against his fingers. If he had to name the color, it would be a slightly darker version of a persian green; it's pretty. Jungkook can’t imagine someone using this for any academic purposes, given the size. He keeps playing around with it in his hands, hesitant.

It is one thing to pick up a stranger’s notebook on the desk, but to open it? It's a completely different violation of privacy. And he said it before: his mother raised him right.

Muji is an artsy brand right? These types of stationary notebooks probably have an information slot where he can find information; a name at least. Something to make hipsters who buy Muji, feel like their notebook is more special and personalized.

If he wants to find the owner he has to open it, doesn’t he?

No. Jungkook could simply deliver it to the librarian and let the owner look for it themselves.

Curiosity is killing him, though. To the point he was already opening the notebook even before he finished that thought. Eyes wide and fingers eager as he leans forward to find what he is looking for.

This notebook belongs to:

the Real Me

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This person is more hipster than Jungkook had even prepared himself to.

That tells him… absolutely nothing.

Hope you’re happy, Jungkook thinks to himself, directing it to the random hipster stranger.

As spiteful as he is of this infuriating halt that was brought to his detective adventure, he has to admit, the vulnerability of the stranger’s answer did absolutely nothing to calm his curiosity.

There's a few moments of quiet, just Jungkook and the first page staring at one another, as if daring him to look further, to sink deeper into the real authentic version of someone he has never even met.

I promise I won’t judge. He thinks apologetically as he flips the page.

In the blood you shed in the winter i was born red

Plum blossom in the snow:

Camellia,

Daffodil

Yeah, yeah, you can call me whatever you want

Listen up, winter you’ve bloomed me

Now I’m going to burn my branches blue

06/01/20

He gasps, as if Jeongguk had been holding his breath the entire time while reading it.

Moma Muji, passport size.

He looked it up when he got back to his dorm. It is in fact passport sized, the same exact measurements as a passport: 4.92 x 3.36 inches. How funny is that?

Jungkook had intended to continue reading in the library. But after...that, a feeling took over him that he was opening in a place far too public for the realest self of the (apparently) poet.

A poet…

There's a dreamy sigh that leaves his lips.

Anyways! The point is he took the notebook to his dorm and is now preparing himself to read more of it; from the safety of the locked door.

I’m real good, but a little uncomfortable

I’m still not sure if I’m a dog or a pig or what else

But then other people put a pearl necklace on me

So much blabbering

One says ‘run’ another says ‘stop’

This one says `look at the forest`

That one says ‘look at the wildflower’

My shadow, I wrote and called it ‘hesitation’

So they really are a poet.

In the back of Jungkook’s head he had expected for that first one to just be a silly quote this person added to the beginning of their notebook; maybe from a song from a band that they brag about listening to before it was popular.

But it's not…. this person is a poet…

This person is a romantic . The thought comes with a warmth that spreads across his cheeks.

It's obvious, these are romance poems. The first one, speaking about falling in love in the winter, about how delicate the poet’s significant other makes them feel; as delicate as these winter blooming flowers, comparing himself to a plant that burns under their love even during the winter. Love is getting them through the cold.

The second poem, however, is a lot less optimistic. Clearly the poet is battling their own feelings of inadequacy with the flattering words of their partner. They think of themself as a pig or a dog while they’re being treated with love. Different directions and orders are being directed to the poet are the contradicting opinions of themself: the ones they hear of their own and the ones from their partner.

So they’re probably in a relationship , he thinks with a little apprehension.

Not that it matters to Jungkook what this literal stranger is doing with their romantic life. He has to remind himself that, given that just the two poems had been able to give Jungkook a sensation of… odd familiarity; as if he knows this person already. It seemed as if with those poems he had gotten a glimpse of the poet’s two sides.

Obviously, the poems already showed two sides regarding the theme of love: safety and doubt. But aside from that, Jungkook couldn’t help but notice the difference in the way of expressing these sides: while the first poem was melodic and metaphorical, the second one held a language that sounded just a lot more accessible and down to earth.

This person must have thought about this relationship a lot.

It doesn’t matter, and it most certainly doesn’t affect him; so Jungkook shuts the notebook closed. He’ll just go about his day.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches.

Why does Jungkook remember the exact size?

Hell, why is he thinking about that notebook at all?!

Jungkook had rushed out, stumbling into his running shoes and beanie. Joonie had invited him to go out for a run even though they’re well into winter. And Jungkook… he is smitten enough to say yes.

But, nobody can blame him. He always has so much fun when he is with Namjoon… Or well, he tends to have fun, when his mind isn’t keeping him distracted with useless things!

Useless things like the way Namjoon’s route goes by a huge Camellia bush.

Yeah yeah call me whatever you want

Would Joon like it if he called him Camellia? Would his branches burn blue with love?

“Jungkook-ah, you’ll trip if you keep running that deep into your head, baby.” His endeared tone calls him out of the deep trance. His voice is a little breathless from running, he does so effortlessly while talking after years of taking this same route. The youngest has to shake his head a little bit, for a moment, Namjoon’s voice still sounded a little bit far away.

“You look like you saw a ghost, whats up?” For some reason, his boyfriend’s obliviousness only leads Jungkook to one conclusion: Namjoon hasn’t noticed the Camellia bush.

Of course he hasn’t, why would he?

Jungkook… Can’t ignore the sour disappointment in his tongue.

…

Odd.

They’ve stopped running now.

You still have to answer something, Jungkook.

“Oh.. I was just-..” He cuts himself off. Doing what? Judging Namjoon for not meeting the standards of a random poet?

“Those flowers are pretty.” Jungkook finds his voice a little softer, gesturing to the bush a little bit behind him; still at arms reach. He can’t help but sound shy, the answer he came with on the spot was… rather silly.

But, at least it was true , he thinks as his eyes linger over the gorgeous splashes of pink.

Namjoon’s expression is startled for a second, before melting into tooth rotting fondness. “You like Camellias?” Jungkook can feel the older’s eyes on him, tender and loving; before his hand is reaching tenderly for the bush.

He can’t lie, Jungkook is a little hypnotized by the way Namjoon’s knuckles look caressing the flower carefully. “So, do you?” The young hadn’t realized he had forgotten to breathe at the sight, Namjoon’s voice grounding him yet again from his wandering thoughts.

His nod comes hurriedly, thank god Namjoon is used to his spacing out; his chuckles help Jungkook’s shoulders sag down relaxed. He hadn’t even realized he had tensed them in the first place. “They only bloom in the winter… Feels special.” A shy smile grows on his face as he eyes up at Namjoon; he is already staring at the younger with a soft look.

“Who would have guessed you knew about flowers.” There's something gently amused about his tone, playful and flirty. It still makes Jungkook feel exposed.

He doesn’t know about flowers. He just looked up the flowers on his way from the library. But of course Namjoon would pick up on it, his boyfriend has been into botany since before they even started dating.

Meanwhile Jungkook… has no excuse. He tries to hide it in his face. “Only after spending so much time with you! ”He exclaims softly, nudging his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. Jungkook hadn’t realized they were so close, his hand goes to meet Namjoon’s where it's cradling the flower. “Do you have one of these?” His voice comes out quietly, too caught up admiring the sight of their big hands holding the almost hyperbolically delicate flower.

Do you imagine the poet cares for Camellias and Daffodils?

Namjoon chuckles softly, for some reason, it feels like he is reading Jungkook’s thoughts. “No, they’re a little too hard to maintain just for a pretty flower that comes once a year.”

Oh… He can’t help his disheartened reaction.

“Hey, don’t look so disappointed.” Jungkook’s eyes snap from where they were stranded on the flower, Namjoon’s hand isn’t there anymore; but he can distinctively feel a hand gingerly tucking a strand of hair into Jungkook’s beanie. Handling the younger in a similar fashion than he did the flower. “We can come take care of this one every once in a while; I’m sure I got some ericaceous fertilizer saved up.” His eyes meet Namjoon, smiling tenderly.

Jungkook can feel his chest tighten in affection. A grin spreads across his face. “This is just an excuse for you to take me in more runs with you, isn’t it?” He can barely hold his accusing laugh, launching forward to press his fists to Namjoon’s chest; it earns a roll of his eyes, but Jungkook can the tremble of a laugh under his hands.

“Can’t even start a nice project with your boyfriend anymore. Romance is so dead.” His attempts for sound annoyed are laughable. And the answer only makes it more obvious what Namjoon’s intentions truly were.

Romance can’t be dead, though. Not as long as that Moma Muji, passport sized, 4.92 x 3.36 inch notebook is sitting in his dorm.

He feels guilt as he side eyes the notebook laying on his bedside table. Especially with the feeling of Namjoon’s plush lips lingering on his cheek from when he just dropped Jungkook by his room.

Especially when that persian green cover is a mocking reminder of the Camellia bush they encountered; reminding Jungkook that the flower mentioned in the poem has no relation to Jungkook’s life outside from the confines of that green leather cover.

Reminding Jungkook of how… oddly disappointed he is by that fact.

He plops heavily on his bed, arm reaching for his bedside table. When he grips the notebook and opens it, he does it spitefully.

I wanted to have the sea so I swallowed it up

But I’m even thirstier than before

Is what I know really an ocean?

Or a blue dessert?

Maybe it's the soothing feeling of his stomach full from the food he had with Namjoon after his run.

Maybe it's the dark outside his window, allowing his thoughts to think of someone, somewhere, who can’t have enough of their lover.

He doesn’t know… But he manages to fall asleep.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover.

The guilt follows him like a shadow.

Damn, he is even thinking in poems now.

He can't help it! He can’t help the way that, despite Namjoon giving him everything, he still longs for a romance like the one in the poems. Everyday, Jungkook sinks a little deeper into the vulnerable self of the poet; his heart fluttering at their verses while simultaneously expecting Namjoon to keep up with him. Keep up with his sensitive tugging of his heartstring that his boyfriend doesn't seem to be syncing to.

In fact, Namjoon seems to be more weary of Jungkook’s attempts at romance. Acknowledging them for sure and just, he isn’t de--escalating his gestures… But… he seems weary of them.

We need the scenery of the night more than anyone

You are the only one, that comforts me more than anything

Thinking “don’t think” it's a thought on itself, you know?

With your falling eyes I look at the night sky again

We are each other's night view

We are each other's moon

The poet said, and Jungkook thought while standing on the balcony of Namjoon’s apartment. The both of them are way too under-dressed for the weather; clouds looking menacing above them; hunched over the railing shoulders pressed together.

It's calm, however, Jungkook feels like his heart will beat out of his chest. Too many words, too many emotions that he can feel bottling up in chest; threatening to spill in a way that he fears is quite too vulnerable to present to Namjoon.

“I really need moments like these.” It feels as if with the help of the poet,Jungkook was able to really grow more comfortable voicing out his thoughts like these. A fear he had to explain to Namjoon when they first started dating, nervously reassured him that he did want a relationship; despite his lack of enthusiasm.

He was so embarrassed back then… Still dealing with the aftermath of a self-homophobic past.

“What about them?” He can feel Namjoon side-eyeing him with a smile.

Of course he doesn’t get it.

That’s something else Jungkook has been losing his grip of: the snarky comments that come out of Namjoon's… inadequacy? He shouldn’t even be calling it that, not when Namjoon has given him everything. It's just, lately, the more Jungkook grows in his romantic acts and words, the more it seems Namjoon is just… playing dumb.

He isn’t picking up any of his signals.

It's getting frustrating.

It's like Namjoon is just backing down when things were starting to get serious for them.

And that fucking hurts.

“Nothing, forget it.” He mumbles eyes still strained on the city infront of them. “It's getting late anyways, I should probably head back.” He can’t hide the distance in his voice. They had agreed Jungkook was staying over, and it's obvious how that objection hangs off Namjoon's tongue as he stares a little widened. Jungkook answers before he can speak. “I have early class tomorrow, it's better if I go from my dorm.”

Somehow, the disappointment grows on his boyfriend’s face more at that. “Oh…” Jungkook fights the urge to kiss the pout off his pouting lips. “Yeah you’re right it would just be… inconvenient to stay here.”

When Jungkook leaves, he feels a heaviness in his chest. But he chooses to ignore it.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages.

24 of them, ruled, though only 16 are being used. Jungkook knows because he counted them, even if he hasn’t gotten to read everything he skimmed through the pages in a weak attempt to distract his mind. The unnecessary but easy counting of the pages, most of them double-sided in their use, except for the last one (They must have gotten tired of the ink bleeding through the pages, Jungkook asumes), helps keep his mind off last night.

Not that he has anything he needs distraction from. He is fine.

Him and Namjoon are fine .

No big fight occurred, no insensitive one sided fallout, no revolutionary discovery. But why does Jungkook feel so… off?

So neglected, so scammed, so robbed of a romance he could be having but doesn’t have. That Namjoon doesn’t let him have.

Jungkook always does this, he always feels so intensely, always too needy and too ready to fall in love. At a speed and intensity that doesn’t match others. He had revealed so much of himself to Namjoon, had been so open about his devotion, his complete and thorough adoration; and he convinced himself to believe Namjoon was okay with his arduous loving.

But if Jungkook took a second to think about it, he had been a fool to think that. Namjoon, his Namjoon is a philosopher by default, a thinker, he dissects, and recognizes, and categorizes, and doubts . Namjoon has so many doubts. About everything really, so perceptive of his surroundings he theorizes about things that aren't his business, except they are because Namjoon has an interest for every little thing in this world.

And it's as enamouring, as it is deadly.

Namjoon questions, questions himself, his intentions, his moral, his relationships, his worthiness .

It’s been four years.

But it's never too late for Namjoon to have second doubts. Even when Jungkook is sinked… so, so deep..

Maybe they aren’t meant to b-

Maybe Jungkook should read a poem.

Parting is to me, a tear that blooms unknowingly in my eyes

All the things we couldn’t say flow out

And lingering feelings crawl up my face

Parting is the reward that comes only at the end

Of my play of lies

It feels like hours as Jungkook stares at it, entranced. Only when he sees a teardrop make the ink bleed and smudge, is when he is snapped out of it.

He sets the notebook down in his night stand. Jungkook doesn’t feel like reading anymore of it, the knot on his chest only tightened by the unhelpful words of the poem.

He read enough .

Jungkook curls to his side dejected, as if offended at the poet and his own relationship problems.

Maybe romance is dead after all.

He feels his shoulders tremble in what's a sob shaking its way out of his lungs. Is he really going to give up Namjoon? Just for a romance that clearly isn’t as perfect as he thought it was?

He can’t.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used.

That's what he thinks when his hand reaches for the notebook almost in a hurry. Jungkook had run back from that dreadful early class, he was barely able to concentrate, a plan forming in his head just as he was about to go to sleep dejected and sad. It kept him all night from the nerves of it all. He has to make things right, and the lack of sleep didn’t stop his adrenaline as it made his mind wander even with the professor explaining in front of him.

The point is Jungkook has the notebook and is desperately running to Namjoon’s apartment.

Guess all those winter runs served some purpose at least.

Maybe he is being stupid for running in negative number weather in clothes that were apropriate for his ac-heated classroom. But fuck it.

Romance is alive, and Jungkook is the breathing, sprinting, embodiment of it.

When he reaches Namjoon’s apartment, his throat feels like it has shards of ice poking at it with every deep swallow of air, the skin across his cheeks and nose sporting a blush from the cold and knife-like wind across his face running here. His hair is a mess, there’s definitely sweat stains under his arms, and he most definitely looks insane.

He also kinda forgot to tell Namjoon he was coming over, he knows his boyfriend’s schedules and routines so he should be home right now. He always has friday morning’s off. So he doesn’t bother letting Namjoon know, rather fumbling with his shaky, numb fingers to reach for the spare key. The ends of his hands are also red from the cold, tingling and making his movements clumsy.

But he manages to put the key into the whole regardless. And feeling quite proud of himself and with adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he opens the door.

Namjoon is standing near the door, hunched over halfway through putting on his shoes, looking up surprised. It seems as if adrenaline was only willing to get him this far, as it leaves Jungkook’s body completely.

“Babe…” Namjoon’s voice is cutely stunned, with his eyes widened and plump lips adorably parted with a mouth that stays ajar. “What are you doing here?”

“Where were you going?” Jungkook asks instead of answering. His voice is embarrassingly small for someone who took a 35 minute run without an ounce of doubt. Maybe he's just out of breath.

Oh god, Namjoon was leaving, he has stuff to do Jungkook came at a bad time, he is probably over exaggerating and took all of this way out of proportion and Namjoon didn’t even think anything was wrong at all and he is just making a big scene for nothing being the big, needy baby that he is; bothering Namjoon with his useless emotions-

“Your dorm.” He replies so simply, like sinceirty costs him nothing when it's to Jungkook. “I asked first though.” And his tone isn't accusatory as it is teasing.

Namjoon doesn’t specify, but something inside him wants to believe the older was on his way to do the same as Jungkook.

“I...I wanted to tell you something?” He can’t help but sound doubtful. Even when he knows Namjoon is on his way to see him, even when his eyes are soft enough to melt the shard of ice growing on Jungkook's throat; he can’t seem to recognize if it's from the run or the anxiety. “It's kinda silly, though.” He can’t help but coax that out as well. from the outside one would consider Jungkook is belittling his feelings, yet belittling it makes it less of a big deal and maybe it can calm the speeding rate of his heartbeat.

“It must be important if you came right after class.” Namjoon says taking off the single shoe he had managed to put on and properly stand up straight eyeing Jungkook. “Did you run all the way from the bus station? Jungkook…” He scolds, taking Jungkook's frozen hands into his own bigger warmer ones and drags him in.

Jungkook for a moment has to hold back a snicker imagining Namjoon’s reaction if he knew how he actually got here. And he looks so cute with his small frown and determined expression already. He can feel his own heart sizing up as Namjoon drags him by the hands into the couch, hushing about Jungkook being too careless and too underdressed as he drapes a heavy blanket over his shoulders.

He feels cared for, it's nice.

It's only when Namjoon forced a hot cup of tea into Jungkook’s hands, that they slowly start to regain their feeling, that the older sits back down next to him on the couch. His eyes are concerned, unsure, as if all this had just been an excuse to make time, before he inevitably has to ask. “What-uh--What did you want to tell me?” He manages to smile, but Jungkook knows him all too well.

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t falter though, he is ready to do this. He needs to do this.

“You...you’re probably wondering what happened to me yesterday.” Namjoon’s expression drops at that nodding a bit quickly, eagerly, and all too endearingly. Jungkook really made him worry, didn’t he?

“I was upset over some rando’s romantic poems,because--well its stupid but- they were so corny and romantic, they actually made me doubt what you and I have.” He can't help the incredulous tone of his voice because, saying it outloud finally, it really is so ridiculous. Jungkook shakes his head smiling, as if humored.

When his eyes find Namjoon again, they melt with love at the older’s stunned expression. “I convinced myself we were out of sync, or that you weren’t getting anything I sent your way. But it was just those stupid corny poems getting to me.” He sets the cup down, hands warm enough to hold Namjoon’s.

“But I am stupid, and corny, and in love.” He feels his own cheeks burning. “So I want to dedicate these poems to you.” Jungkook knows his smile is giddy like a childs as he reaches for his pocket taking the infamous notebook and handing it to Namjoon with an excited smile.

His boyfriend still looks stunned, and Jungkook can only think about how much smaller the passport sized notebook fits in his hands; even when Jungkook’s own hands aren’t particularly small, it's his boyfriend’s fault for being so family-sized.

With a great amount of strength, he forces himself to stop looking at his boyfriend’s gorgeous hands as he skims through the pages. He is a little surprised to find a frown on Namjoon’s brow, an anxious feeling settling over the younger at the bottom of his stomach.

“How much did you read of it?” Namjoon asks eyes staying glued to the notebook on his lap, avoiding Jungkook’s wide vulnerable eyes.

“U-uh.. I read… I read the first five, though--though the fifth one isn't romantic I only want the first four of them for you. They--I think they fit perfectly into my--my feelings for you.” Jungkook is growing nervous by the second, Namjoon’s eyes stay strained on the notebook, as Jungkook grows more and more convinced that he is exposing too much too intensely again.

“So you didn’t read the whole thing.” For the first time since Jungkook handed him the notebook, Namjoon’s eyes traveled to meet Jungkook’s unsure eyes. He can’t find his voice so he just shakes his head, and that makes his boyfriend's shoulders relax with a sigh. “Okay that explains it.”

“Ex-Explains what?”

“None of those poems are romantic, Jungkook-ah.”

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (allegedly).

“How--how would you know?” Jungkook asks almost defensively, as if standing up for the stranger poet with fanaticism.

Namjoon winces as if it pains him to say it. “I left the notebook by your desk, its uh--mine.” He was avoiding Jungkook’s eyes until now, staring up at him vulnerable, but with a small smile. “They aren’t romantic poems.”

Jungkook’s world stops for just a second, the shock is evident on his face. He is beginning to open his mouth to speak again but he can’t find anything in his seemingly hollow head to say anything. “Well...That’s embarrassing.” He manages to say, feeling the tip of his ears burn.

He made that whole love scene.

“I believe the reader can find more than one structured meaning to the poems, it's not that my meaning is above yours just because I wrote it.” Namjoon explains, and maybe it's his imagination, but he sounds a lot more comfortable having seen his own loss of words on Jungkook’s tongue. He is handing him back the notebook, the older’s smile is almost as giddy as his when he first started his monologue.

“That sounds like bullshit to make me feel better.” He manages to joke with a grin.

“You should read it, the ending” Namjoon’s smile turns warm. He didn’t deny it. Sounds like, thinking the creator’s intentions are equal to the perception of the auciende, is bullshit after all. “It's kinda important.” There's humor in his voice and a pout forms on the younger’s lips.

“Well I liked to appreciate them one poem at a time!” He defends but it's harmless under Namjoon’s loving stare.

“You could have just recognized my handwriting, baby.” Jungkook’s face blushes in embarrassment.

“And take away all the mystery? No.”

Jungkook’s fingers are hurried and clumsy as he flips over the pages, at first eyeing the poems that had already plagued his mind for weeks. And as he continues forward finding more scribbles and poems, only recognizing a word or two before skipping until he reached the last pages. His heart threatened to beat its way out of Jungkook’s chest.

He is pretty sure he is on page 14 when he meets what he is looking for.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend).

Jungkook

His own name stares back at him as he prepares himself for what's next. But he can't find it in himself to feel afraid, not with the weight of Namjoon’s adoring eyes on him.

If you’ve reached this part is because you managed to read through this notebook and whatever I coax out of myself to write in it. I

If you reached this part, then it means you managed to get through all the ugly that I put in here, all my doubts and fears and sour thoughts, I displayed them to you.

Because you make me believe that all my ugly insides are worthy of love; that my entire self is somehow deserving of you. You make me want to show you my realest self.

So, I did. And even if it hasn’t happened I’m terrified of the thought already; no one has made me sink as deep as you, while simultaneously lifting me up higher than ever.

For some reason, I get the feeling I’m exaggerating, since you always find a way to love the unlovable parts of myself. But despite that, I want to give you something pretty, and worthy of love.

I used to be one of those whatever people

I didn’t believe in what real love is

I used to say habitually “I want to love”

But I found myself. The whole new myself.

I met you and did I realize that I’m a book

I want to be the best man for you

It's probably naturally because you are my world itself

You are my beginning and the end itself

I wanna become part of your bookcase

I wanna interfere in your novel as your lover.

What would it be like if I really went to you?

If I went to you, would you be sad?

If I am not the one, what would I be?

In the end, would you leave me too?

The wind wind wind that grazes me

I hope that isn’t just this.

My feelings are blue blue blue

My entire head is filled with blue

How much much much

How much much much you…

You’re my person

You’re my wind

You’re my pride

You’re my love

You’re my love.

Jungkook, I want to share my ugly and my pretty with you, I want to let you see me whole .

Would you move in with me?

“You...You didn’t just imagine me acting off sync.” Namjoon breaks the suffocating silence as Jungkook’s widened eyes leave the sixteenth page of the notebook. It looks like the older’s expression has softened, even if sadly. “I thought you had read it all and just...didn’t know how to reject me.” He smiles but it's gloomy eyes avoiding the younger, as if he had assumed this was a fact.

A little bit of Jungkook’s heart breaks at that.

A life shared with Namjoon, Namjoon who trusts Jungkook the deepest parts of his being, that trusts in Jungkook’s ability to love, to treat him delicately around ugly insides, and grounding against a weak trembling frame.

Like he looks right now, eyes nervous and strained on Jungkook as his hands fondle with each other shoulders raising and falling shakily with quivering breaths. Jungkook doesn’t even have to think twice.

Both his hands reach for Namjoon’s shoulders, making sure his entire attention is on him. Namjoon's lowered head perks up startled. “Joonie… I’m sorry your plan didn’t work out the way you intended.” He smiles apologetically and he lets his hands slide down Namjoon’s arms and onto his fiddling hands. “But it's not like it matters.” His tone it's relaxed but it doesn’t seem to calm Namjoon, not even with the stroking of his thumbs over the older's hand.

There's a question rising up the older’s throat but Jungkook doesn’t let it. “It doesn’t matter because... I want to move in with you.” He sees all the tension leave Namjoon’s expression into pure surprise, endearing enough that it coaxes a giggle out of Jungkook, tugging his bigger hands closer to him, kissing him softly; surprised to find Namjoon kissing back with what he can only imagine is all the pent up emotion from this week.

He doesn’t question it for long, he can never think all that much when Namjoon is kissing him.

“Where are you going? We already have everything.” Jungkook questions his boyfriend as he starts to exit their apartment door; which is currently filled with boxes they just brought back from Jungkook��s former dorm.

“I just have one more thing to get from my car.” He kisses the top of Jungkook’s head and without any more explanation he leaves through the door. Leaving Jungkook by himself for the first time in this entire hectic day.

The apartment looks messy, or well, messier than usual; Namjoon always tried to be neat for his boyfriend’s sake, and succeeded a few times. Most times, Jungkook would find him covered in work and would offer to clean for him, claiming to be ‘trophy wife’ material. Its catastrophic now, covered in boxes, Jungkookisn’t a hoarder but Namjoon’s apartment is what one would politely call ‘cozy’. It's catastrophic, yet Jungkook can only feel his heart size up in excitement and giddiness; as if completely unaffected by the mess like he normally would.

It's just hard to focus on the mess, when every time he tries to he sees traces of himself in this apartment: in his box of old CDs that will go in a shared collection with Namjoon’s, or how his boyfriend indulged him by taking Jungkook’s energy crystals out of the moving box and into the spaces of the apartment here they belong (even when it's obvious he doesn’t believe in them for a second), or the way Namjoon got some of Jungkook’s photos printed out and framed so they can decide where to hang them sometime this week.

He’s only been living here for half a day, and Namjoon’s place is already his.

Well, to be fair, Namjoon has been his for a considerably longer amount of time. And that fact alone is enough to make Jungkook stand just the slightest bit taller than before.

Yes he is proud, sue him.

“Back.” Namjoon announces softly shutting the door, and taking out his snow soaked boots, with a hand suspiciously behind his back.

In a wave of confidence Jungkook can’t help the flirty smile as he walks over to his boyfriend. “Yes, back.” A hand settles over the short hairs of Namjoon’s nape, caressing softly. “What’s behind it?” He tilts his head to the side with a smile that tries to be seductive but only manages to be bright.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I?” Namjoon’s face splits into a grin staring down slightly to Jungkook; he isn’t that short! It's just… they’re so close.

“No you can not. I own this place and I’ll establish a customs directorate right at the doorstep.” His grin is wide, cocky almost with its jokes; hands still mindlessly playing with Namjoon’s hair with arms hooked over his shoulders.

“You own the place? Does that mean you’ll pay your share of the bill?” A raised eyebrow is all Jungkook needs for his facade to collapse.

“Nooo, I think you misheard me. I just said this is my boyfriend’s place? My super generous, compassionate and broken college student boyfriend, he is great.” If hsi tone sounds desperate he doesn't care, it makes Namjoon chuckle, and that's all that matters. “No customs. But please show me? Please?” Maybe he is whining, laying limp against Namjoon’s firm torso while he whines like a child.

But you can’t criticize him for it, when it works.

“You are impossible to resist, you know it's not fair.” He says rolling his eyes and shoving Jungkook off of him, with the hand that he has available. Once they're at a comfortable distance he reveals.

A potted Camellia.

“I bet that mean poet had you pretty bummed about not having one of these.” His tone is joking but soft, adoring as a pink tone spreads over his cheeks.

Jungkook’s cheeks hurt from smiling as he nears Namjoon again, the potted plant being the only thing separating them. “He did.” He meets Namjoon’s hands helping hold the weight of the plant. Today, his hands are cold instead of Jungkook’s. “I’ll have to make him pay me somehow.”

“I’m sure he’ll find some way.” Namjoon mumbles but leaning over close enough that Jungkook understands. Placing a soft peck to his lips.

Moma Muji, passport size, 4.92 x 3.36 inches, persian green cover, 24 pages, ruled, only 16 used, poems 1-5 non-romantic themes (confirmed by author: Jungkook’s boyfriend), now sitting on a bedside table on Jungkook’s side of the bed, with a cut Camellia on a whiskey glass with water next to it. Both manifestations of how Namjoon is just as stupid and corny and in love as he is.

#namkook #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #fluff #established relationship #poetry fic #happy ending #misunderstandings

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carnivalls · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! Hope you’re doing well! You don’t have to answer but I was just wondering where your inspiration for Terra’s town came from or how you came up with those ideas? Struggling with writers block rn myself 🙃

hello, hoping the same for you! i’ve been sitting on this ask a while after tumblr ate my initial response, but i finally had the time to rewrite most of what i said that first time, so, without further ado:

i still remember coming up with tt, though i don’t know how much help that alone will be. i was on a car ride with family, and i was sitting in the back, staring out the window and listening to blood in the cut by k. flay. all of a sudden, i got the image of a cannibal, a girl that could raise the dead, and someone who really wasn’t supposed to be there traveling across a desert. when i got home, i started instantly making character intros, and thus egg, eve, and then-jekyll were born.

keep in mind, terras town is now almost five years old. it’s been through four plot reveals, eighteen actual plots, and one major character flip (from jekyll to lev). and im still fixing it up. so that initial spark of inspiration didn’t actually end up taking me very far - i had to consciously start pushing it in various directions, seeing what worked, what didn’t, etc. and even today the work’s not done.

however, past that initial point of ‘founding’ tt, and now that im a less close to that point in my life, i can definitely point out some of the media behind it: the umbrella academy, brooklyn 99 (only for those two or so highly specific episodes with a really friendly cannibal - sound familiar?), the library at mt char, night in the woods (for virgo and sonnyboy’s relationship & what would come to be some of lev’s general vibe), rebel of the sands. yeah, i was like 15.

(i only read the locked tomb this year, but i really wish i could put that as an inspiration too, because after reading it i remember thinking, this is exactly what i’m going for.)

my point is, tt was fundamentally a product of things id seen (years ago) and liked, as well as ideas i liked in principle but wished had better execution. that’s part of what i’d advise if you’re struggling to come up with something: read (or watch) something really good, or really bad. really good helps kick in my competitive drive, if not pure awe. really bad triggers i could fix you.

tt also was built on themes and tropes i wished other books did more (see the whole i could fix you) thing. a dead boyfriend rather than girlfriend as a character motivation. magic with actual setbacks. a boy desperately devoted to a girl instead of the other way around. feral women. the end of the world being the least of the characters’ problems. those were some of the initial ones at the time, and from then on i kept adding. so another tip i’d give would be to think of what you’d like to read, and, well. write it!

the last few tips deviate from tt a bit, but i think help anyway:

writing prompts. they’re there for a reason, and though they won’t do the writing for you, they can help plant a seed for an idea. if you have a character dynamic you want to do, but no world or stakes for it to live in? writing prompts can be your friend. they were for me and requiem.

likewise, characters. i tend to come up with my cast first, plot second. oftentimes, with the cast comes the plot. think up someone, think of (what i call) their deal. what’s their deal? what do they want? what are they like? who would they clash with the most? (there, now you have a second character). sometimes, ill do a thing where i find a picrew i like, and aimlessly start designing. with it, so too does my character unfold: ‘okay, she gets black hair, but - oh, maybe streaks of gray. from stress? yeah, maybe she’s in a leadership position. then how old is she?’ etc, etc. or listen to music! if you’re the type to design mental animatics with every song, this tip works like a charm for me - sometimes, ill get a flashes of a storyline alongside. or even look up baby names and try to see what vibes you get from your favorites. generally, i’m of the opinion that characters make a story, so they’re the things i give the most attention to before writing.

finally, not to sound a little more traditionalist: look around. go for a walk, notice things. let your mind run in the shower. ideas usually come when you don’t expect them, even if it’s all too tempting to take a crowbar to them and yank them out yourself. involve yourself in the real, and when you come back, throw yourself into the fictional (you probably know that age old tip: when you’re not writing, read).

good luck with your writing!

#thanks for the ask!!#talking with the wind

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writerpeach · 5 years ago

Text

Quiet

Pairing - Somi x Male Reader

7584 words

Categories: smut, public sex, face-fucking, Somi as a hot librarian

18+

-----

Read on AO3

Read on Wattpad

Read on AFF

Friday afternoons were the least busiest time of the week at University. Much of your time was unoccupied, and not wanting to deal with your noisy roommate you headed to the school’s public library. Swiping your school id, the loud audible beep welcomed you in while you looked for the perfect place to sit.

It was a cold bitter afternoon, several tables were already filled with bodies and stacks of books everywhere. You looked around for familiar faces, scanning your eyes around ceiling high book shelves and occupied tables until finding two close classmates that gestured to join them.

“Hey,” they both echoed, as you plopped your bag down on the table gently, finding your own pocket of spread out books and pens and notebooks. You had no real necessity to be here outside of finding time to waste since all your classes had finished for the day, but you were still needing to study something - or rather, someone.

“Hey,” you responded. “You seen her yet?”

“Seen who?” said one of your classmates, ignorant to the situation.

“Nah, she hasn’t shown up yet. She usually comes in late on Fridays though.”

“Got it. Nothing to do but wait around until she does, “ you said, lazily slumping back in the wooden chair.

“Who are you talking about?” your oblivious classmate asked, with a confused face as his curiosity peaked.

“Somi.”

“Who’s Somi?”

“New librarian. She only works on weekends,” you said, swiveling your head around for any sight of her.

“You’ve been missing out. Always wearing those tight skirts, hair in a ponytail like she’s trying to be super sexy. She’s got the biggest tits you’ve ever seen.“

“Sounds hot.”

Right on cue a woman matching that very description entered the picture, carrying a large stack of books as she walked out over to the checkout desk and several pairs of eyes followed her every move.

“There she is.”

The woman who was the talk of the afternoon walked behind the counter, placing each book into several neat piles, giving you and your thirsty classmates the full view of her. The curvy librarian was gorgeous - perfect face with a perfect body that she seemed proud of as she dressed in a tight low-cut blouse that showed off head-turning cleavage and her very voluptuous chest. Her light brown locks were pulled back in her usual ponytail, and to top it all off round glasses that matched the frame of her face, fitting into the typical librarian look quite well.

“What do you think?”

“I think I wanna fuck her.”

“Get in line.”

Now, you didn’t spend every Friday afternoon just to ogle her, as much as that was a routine part of your schedule. There were rumors, several rumors about the librarian that your table was drooling over that Somi was a very... promiscuous woman, which was not that out of line given her youth and her well defined assets.

The librarian thing was a bit cliché, and while there were a few other librarians you saw during the week who were quite attractive, none of them matched the beauty and sex appeal of Somi. She was something else.

Somi drove everyone in the building crazy just by breathing. Her presence was deadly, she kept her hair tied up like it contained her every secret. Those deadly tight skirts showed off her dangerous curves and gave a perfect look at every inch of those long luscious legs that seemed to never end, her body absolutely oozed with sex. You wanted to have her - you needed her, and nothing would get in your way.

“You think she can take all three of us?” your previously clueless classmate asked.

“At the same time?”

“Yeah, at the same time. Fill each one of her holes.”

“Don’t you two losers have studying to do?” you asked, annoyed with the sudden depravity

of the conversation.

“We’ve been studying all day, cut us some slack. Don’t you have studying to do?”

“No, I’m done with classes for the day. The only thing I need to study is that hot piece of ass behind the counter.”

You studied Somi like a hawk, watching her every movement. You studied every subtle motion as she reshelved books, the tight skirt draped around her waist doing justice to her wonderful backside. You felt your cock twitching as she bent down to place books down on the lower shelves, giving the whole library just a hint of what they all wanted.

Without a word you stood up and left the group, leaving your belongings as you approached your unsuspecting prey with hunger in your eyes.

“Excuse me, Miss…Somi” you said, feigning ignorance as you scanned the nametag attached to her shirt, which in reality was just a poor excuse to get a glimpse of her big luscious tits up close.

“What can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for a book for one of my classes. I don’t quite remember the name.”

“I can direct you to our computer systems, we have a list of required reading material from each professor that you can look through and see if anything looks familiar?”

“I’m really not good with computers, Miss Somi. Do you... have a section where all the most popular books are located?”

“Yes we do, right this way.”

You walked behind her, watching every step carefully and her hips swaying as she lead you to the specified section. You had no intention to acquire a book, putting on your best act as you pretended to find what you were looking for.

“Oh here it is, right here,” you said, after scanning several titles, grabbing a book with such randomness that you might as well have chosen it in the dark.

“Thank you, Miss Somi.”

“You’re very welcome, let me know if you know anything else from me.”

“Oh, I will,” you said, smirking as you walked away from the hot librarian and towards the checkout counter, planting the seeds of your master plan.

It was easy to see how rumors started with a woman like Somi. There was more to your conversation than Somi just doing her job. Something a little flirtatious with how she talked, and while you didn’t know her you wanted to. In an intimate way. You felt seduced by her already, as if she had just undressed you with her eyes.

With a plan carefully in place, you returned the next night, much later. Saturday nights at the library were like a graveyard. You counted the amount of people you saw as you walked in on one hand. Perfect.

You hid in between tall shelves, trying to subtly find your target as you skimmed the labels of nearby books. Out of the corner of your eye you saw her, wearing an even tighter top and an even shorter skirt. You tried to control yourself as you watched between the shelves as she placed books up on a tall shelf, stretching up to reach as her breasts bounced with every book placed.

You kept an eye on her, but also kept your distance, listening for the squeaking of her book cart that gave away her location within earshot. As you walked alongside the wide seemingly never ending rows of shelves you marveled at their construction, realizing just how strong and sturdy they looked, and wondering if anyone was lucky enough to bend Somi over one.

Somi had finished shelving the last of her books, and you put your plan in action and made a beeline for her section, rounding the corner as you approached her.

Your sudden appearance startled the young girl who had spent the better part of an hour surrounded by books and silence.

“Hello sir,” she said, greeting you with a bright smile and sparkling eyes that you tried to keep focus on, and kept your pants in check as you tried to not let them wander around to the more generous parts of her body.

“Hello, Somi. It seems I require your assistance again.”

“Of course, what can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for a book,” you said, stating the obvious and trying to conceal your true intentions.

Somi adjusted her glasses, eager and waiting for a response. You tried to keep a neutral face, holding back a smirk as you responded. ”Don’t worry, I know the name this time. It’s called classic sex positions, I think there’s a number after it, twenty-five, fifty? That seems like more than plenty, but if you could help me find it, that would be greatly appreciated.”

You waited for Somi’s reaction, keeping your best poker face on as you watched the paleness on her face become a light red tint in embarrassment.

“Yes, I-I can help with that, it’ll uh, be upstairs. That’s where our adult material is kept. “

“Perfect,” you said, no longer able to keep up the facade on your end as a devilish grin formed on your lips.

“Please follow me.”

You did so with glee, walking up the spiral staircase with your eyes nonchalantly trained on her ass the whole time. When you arrived, you noticed the non discrete area labeled erotic and the dust collected on most of the shelves, giving the assumption that this area was not visited often, if ever.

Somi was nothing but professional as her fingers ran over the spine of each book, each title more and more ridiculous as the next one. “It has to be here somewhere.”

“Got it,” she said, snatching it up and presenting a black book to you with both hands. “Is this it? It was twenty five. ”

You flipped through it rather indiscreetly, making a show of the ridiculous positions and crude pictures. “Yes. This will do just fine.”

“Is there anything else-”

“Which one position is your favorite, Somi?”

“I’m sorry? Which what?”

“Which position do you like the most?” you said, the smirk on your lips no longer hidden.

“I uh, I don’t-”

“You don’t have to answer, I was just-”

“No, I don’t mind. The truth is...I’m a rather vanilla girl. I don’t really care as long as I’m on my back or bent over…”

“Are you saying you don’t prefer-” you flipped through a couple of pages, equipped to find something with the most ridiculous name. “The Rocking Stallion?”

Somi laughed out loud. “No, I can’t say I do. Now what about you?” she said, taking a few steps forward.

“What about me?”

“I told you mine. What’s your favorite position? Be specific. ”

You were surprised by Somi's sudden forwardness, but welcomed it as you hesitated before answering.

“I love to see a woman bent over for me. Seeing how wet she is, seeing her ass, seeing how much she wants me.“

“So you’re an ass man?”

“Not necessarily. Ass...thighs...tits, I love them all.”

Somi grew closer with every breath she drew, until you could almost feel her skin touching your own.

“Do you like it when a woman moans for you?”

“I love it.”

Her body even grew closer until you felt your back pressed against one of the many bookshelves, inadvertently knocking one of the books off the shelves.

“Let me get that for you,” Somi said, bending down deep, her skirt hiked up enough that you saw a glimpse of the black thong underneath, releasing a deep breath you were holding.

Somi stood up and shelved the book back in its place, her supple chest brushing up against your own enough to feel the heat of her body.

“What’s your favorite part of me?”

You took in another breath, feeling your lip beginning to quiver at the act of seduction you were being hit with.

“Come on, don’t be shy. I love learning about the students here. Just don’t say something lame like my eyes.”

“I love your tits, Somi.”

Somi's full juicy lips formed into a pretty smile. “Everybody does. Do you know how many times I catch people staring at my tits?”

“No, I don’t. “

“All the time. Whenever it comes to ask me something about where a book is, or where this section is. They stare at my tits, even if I know they’re trying not to. But I don’t mind, and I certainly can't blame them. Go on, take a peek. I know you were dying to see yesterday.”

Your neck was hurting from trying to not crane your neck downwards, but you stopped as your eyes moved down and focused on the delicious large breasts of Somi, inches away and in your view, they looked magnificent.

“What do you think?”

“They’re amazing.”

“They are, and they’re real.” Somi said, demonstrating by cupping her breasts and letting go, causing them to bounce perfectly.

“No doubt you’ve heard the rumors about me. That’s why you came here right? I don’t think you actually need any of the books you’ve asked me to find, and I know these books aren't the only thing you're checking out.”

“I guess you’ve figured me out, Miss Somi.”

“I am rather flattered that you went through all this trouble just to get in my pants. Does the idea of banging a librarian as hot as me get you off?”

“It does.”

“I bet it does. Now...all these pesky rumors. People come up with crazy ideas. People say that I’m a slut, that I’ll sleep with anybody who so much at looks at me. Pretty ridiculous right?” Somi asked, looking straight into your eyes with such a deep level of seduction that you didn’t know to respond.

“These rumors…”

Somi’s voice grew into a whisper as she angled her head, talking at a volume just soft enough for you to hear, not that anyone else was around.

“...are hardly rumors. Because I am a slut, and I do love to sleep with anyone. I know my body is amazing, and I want everyone to see it. That’s why I dress more daring, because I love to show it off, even if I get the staff telling me to cover up. Nobody else wants to work on weekends, so there’s not much they can do about it.”

You nearly choked. Somi’s voluptuous body made contact with yours, her breasts pressed against your chest, driving you crazy with lust. She looked into your eyes, waiting for any response, but you were more than speechless at the moment.

“So if you want...to bend me over, if you want to see my pretty ass...and if you want to stuff your cock in me and watch me be a pretty little slut for you...well all you have to do is ask.”

You found the will to gather your thoughts, despite everything going more than according to plan, you couldn’t help but hesitate as you picked your next words.

“I’m dying to fuck you Somi. But my dorm is occupied, my roommates are- ”

“Dorm? Who said anything about a dorm?” Somi interrupted. “You can fuck me right here.”

You’d never heard a better set of words. “Here? In the library?”

“Of course here. Nobody comes here on a Saturday night. Besides, the risk of getting caught is part of the fun right?”

“I-you’re right, but, I could get in trouble if someone sees us.”

“We both could. But they won’t find us. I’m the only librarian tonight, and people here this late are rather self-sufficient. I know all the spots hidden out of view, and nobody ever comes up here. Especially not the erotic section, not when porn exists. It’ll be our...little secret.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

“Oh you have no idea. So, what do you say? Wanna live out a fantasy and fuck a hot slutty librarian?”

“God, yes.”

“Good, because it seems like you’re ready to start already,” she teased, as her eyes were drawn down at the bulge in your pants that you hadn’t even realized had formed. You had been blindsided by Somi’s lewd words and seduction that had peaked your arousal, and there was no holding back now.

“Shit, I’m sor-”

“Sorry? There’s no need to be sorry. This is what I’m here for.”

Somi gave out another cute smile again as her voluptuous body pressed tighter, pressing you against the row of books as her hands wrapped around the nape of your neck. Everything happened so fast that you were in awe as you felt the softness of Somi’s plump lips as they smashed against your own and her sweet taste entered your mouth.

Her tongue followed and brushed up against your own, and if that wasn’t enough the abrupt feel of Somi cupping your cock sent you overboard with sensations as your tongues explored each others mouths. In return you reached forward and cupped Somi’s breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze through her clothes, feeling just how large and desirable they were in your hands.

Just as you were getting used to taste of Somi she pulled away, leaving you with an insatiable desire for more as she bit her lip as she dropped to her knees on the library’s colorful carpet.

“Can I suck your cock?” Somi asked, not that she ever needed to as her sexy lust-filled voice deepened your arousal. You gave a simple nod of your head as she eagerly fiddled with your pants, pulling them down along with your boxers down to your ankles. Somi’s pretty eyes widened as she exposed your stiff cock to to the liberating air, her sparkling eyes lit up and she licked her lips in approval.

Her eyes stayed glued to your cock like a moth to a flame as she wrapped her fingers around it, gently sliding up as she caressed your shaft.

“You’re really hard, like really hard. Do I turn you on that much?” Somi giggled, like it was no fault of her own. As she twisted her delicate hand around your shaft, softly pumping you up and down you leaked on her fingers already.

“Guess that answers that,” she smirked.

You felt her fingers tightening as they traveled the length of your cock, applying the most delicate of friction as she stroked you, smiling as your cock continued to leak over her slender fingers.

“Do you know how many times I’ve done this? How many times I’ve gotten on my knees in this very library, ready to give some guy I barely know a blowjob?”

“No idea.”

“I don’t either, because I’ve lost count. But I can tell you I’ve done it many times, so I’d like to think I can give a blowjob that will rock your world, but you’ll have to be the judge of that.”

Somi smiled innocently, beaming with confidence as you felt her tongue meeting your shaft, cleaning up each drop of precum that she had caused to escape already. Her hot breath on your cock felt incredible already, you moaned as she swirled around your sensitive head and made full use of her wet warm tongue as she gave several long swipes down the entirety of your length, sending shocks of deep pleasure throughout your body.

“Now...how do you want me to suck your cock? Nice and slow? Or wet and messy?”

You weighed your options. Usually you liked things slow, a nice build up really set the stage for what was next. But as the sultry voice of Somi wandered into your ears, you had no patience for build up, you wanted things as messy as possible.

“I want the messiest blowjob you can give me.”

Her eyes lit up, as if she wanted the same, and before she could say another word you felt soft lips wrapping around your tip, causing a gasp from your lips as she brought you into the satisfying warmth of her mouth.

Too preoccupied to shush you Somi did not waste time, those delicious lips felt heavenly on your cock as she sucked your tip softly and kept that gaze glued on yours. Her lips pushed forward, slickening up your shaft with every inch and without warning you felt the back of her throat, groaning at the sharp striking pleasure.

“Holy fuck,Somi,” you moaned, and she hummed as she enjoyed every second of your cock in her wet mouth. Her head bobbed at a rapid pace as you felt those sexy soft lips inhaling your cock, slurping away and drenching your cock in her warm saliva, spiking your body with insane pleasure.

If you were supposed to judge Somi's blowjob skills, she would get a gold fucking medal when it came to sucking your dick. She deepthroated you with relative ease, her pouty lips made you feel extra amazing as they worked your cock, moving from base to tip as she gave loud messy slurps, gagging occasionally and throwing away all pretense of trying to stay quiet.

The pleasure forced your eyes closed. It felt too good that you felt powerless as you savored the sloppy blowjob that Somi was delivering. Her wet lips moved faster and faster as they met the base of your cock, resting against your base before for a mere moment before retreating

Somi looked so damn pretty as she bobbed her head up and down, her innocent looking features contrasting with the fact that was she giving the messiest, loudest blowjob you’ve ever had the pleasure that you felt overwhelmed by it all.

You ran one of your hands through her hair, resting it there to help guide her, not that she really needed it as she sucked you off expertly. You fought the urge in your core that demanded you give in to the satisfaction Somi was bringing, the woman so gifted at sucking your cock that she could have made you cum in ten seconds if she really wanted to. But you weren’t ready, you needed to explore her body and weren’t going to stop until you did so.

Somi released your cock with a loud sensual pop, stroking your messy hard shaft with vigor and strength, and you were thankful for the much needed break even if it meant the loss of her warm mouth.

“You can fuck my face if you want,” Somi said, as innocently as if she were talking about some mundane subject as her lips curled into another smirk. She was full of surprises it seemed, and you would not take the invitation lightly.

“I don’t mind if you’re rough, I can take it," she said, removing her glasses, which took away a bit from the librarian outfit but made her look that much more sexier.

Her smirk turned into a mischievous grin as her mouth opened for you, granting you an opportunity that didn't come too often. You plunged your cock all the way inside her mouth as her lips tightened around it, hitting the back of her throat on the first try. You placed a hand on each side of her head, looking down at those big beautiful eyes with an absolute desire to ruin her.

The first thrust inside Somi’s warm wet mouth felt absolutely wonderful, as did the second and third. Your pace quickened with every rock of your hips, earning your first set of gags as you began to fuck Somi’s needy mouth, groaning every time you felt her wet lips meet the end of your hungry cock.

“This is going to get messy,” you said, as you retreated your cock for just a moment, giving a short breather.

Somi took your thinly veiled excuse to remove her top in stride and happily obliged, removing her tight red top and exposing her fantastic clothed breasts in a black lace bra that could hardly be contained.

“I love messy.”

You stared at her big tits for several seconds, wanting to devour her deep cleavage before slapping your cock on her soft puckered lips and pushing forward to enter her mouth again. You grabbed the back of her head a little more forcibly this time, and in one fluid movement shoved your cock down her throat again.

The look in Somi’s lust filled eyes was nothing but encouraging as you pulled her head down onto every inch of your cock, matching the timing as you resumed fucking her mouth, thrusting harsher and faster as you stared into those beautiful eyes that began welling up with tears.

It didn’t take long for drool to spill out of Somi’s mouth as you rocked your hips, pistoning your cock into her and forcing every bit down her throat. It was rough, and certainly messy, but not once did Somi show any bit of discomfort, instead smiling with her eyes at how forceful you were with her, as if she loved to be used.

The more you filled Somi’s pretty mouth, the more she gagged, her watery eyes showing how much she loved this as she held onto your thighs and braced herself as she became a beautiful ruined mess.

With every harsh thrust Somi felt a pool forming in between her thighs as you used her, she was getting of on this just as much as you were. The gagging sounds coming out of her mouth grew louder, the lipstick around her mouth now became smeared against her lips and the head of your slickened cock that continued driving in and out of her messy mouth without a hint of care, dripping more saliva onto her chin and down into her delicious cleavage.

As much as you loved Somi on her knees, choking on your cock in the middle of the library’s adult section you were both starting to tire out. You held Somi all the way down, looking at her watery eyes, her messy face, and smeared lips as every second felt like forever, looking down and waiting for some signal for you to stop, but Somi took it all like a champ.

When you finally loosened your hold of Somi, you collapsed against the nearest bookshelf, both of you gasping for air.

“You okay? Too rough?”

Somi simply shook her head and smiled. “Not at all, I loved it. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

You felt soft hands wrapping around your dick again, as you looked down you saw Somi gently jerking you off again. “Let’s see if I can handle this. It’s big. Want to fuck me now?”

“I’d love to...but what I really want is to see those big fucking tits.”

“I’d love for you to see them, but let’s go somewhere more private first. One of those more... hidden spots I told you about.“

Somi stood upright and offered her hand, which you accepted as you stepped out of your pants and underwear, leaving a small pile of your combined clothes behind. She led you further into the depths of the upper floor, taking you into a section that was a little bit darker, a little bit quieter, but also a little cozier. Tall brown shelves formed an L-shape, and you noticed the table centered in the area which Somi pulled a short chain on a lamp to illuminate the area slightly.

Somi ran a finger through one of the shelves, demonstrating the dust that collected on her fingertip before rubbing it off on her dark skirt.

“Since I’ve worked here I haven’t seen a single person in this area. Not even once. This is our reference area, but most of these books are decades old and useless. I’d even bet that these books are older than the two of us, so I don’t think we’ll have anyone bothering us here. ”

You exchanged smiles as Somi pulled out a wooden chair and gently pushed you back onto it, running her small delicate hand over the surface of the table that she seemed more than familiar with.

“And as you can see, this table will be useful later. That is if you want to use it.” Somi grinned and climbed onto your naked lap. “Now,where were we?”

“You were about to show me your tits.”

“Right.” Even clothed in a bra, you could tell just how well endowed Somi was, her bra working hard to support her huge tits and you were grateful she wasn’t going to wait long to reveal them.

As Somi reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, you wondered for a second how many men she has done this for, but those thoughts were quickly erased by the reveal of her chest as she tossed her bra away and exposed her large and round breasts. The beautiful paleness of her naked upper torso highlighted by the dim lamp. Somi’s bare breasts were absolutely perfect and mouthwatering.

You didn’t let Somi get another word in before you dove in, cupping her tits and giving a firm squeeze, floored by just how huge and soft they felt in your hands.

“Fuck, these are the best tits I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t take her eyes off her chest for a second as you felt the warmth and softness of them, fondling, squeezing, and doing everything you can to get as much of them into your hands as possible, feeling her stiff pink nipples brushing up against your palms as her arousal level mirrored your own.

Their warmth and weight and softness drove you insane, you still couldn’t believe just how goddamn big they felt as you continued groping Somi’s delicious tits, caressing them with your hands as she leaned back to grant better access to her chest, while you never had your fill of playing with her luscious tits.

As you partook in the scrumptious chest of Somi, you forget that you are even in a library as you feasted on her tits, bringing your mouth to one of her pink nipples and swirling it around before capturing in between your lips, sucking and slurping on it just as loud as she had your cock to earn a soft needy moan from the librarian.

“Careful...they’re sensitive..” Somi cautioned, but you cared little for her words as your lips were too preoccupied on tasting her large mounds, messily slurping and nibbling and downright devouring them, encouraged by the whiny moans of Somi being pleasured.

You could do this until your lips were numb, and even then you were sure you wouldn’t be able to stop. You switched nipples every so often, both of her hard nubs coated in your saliva as you worked them into your mouth, doing every single thing to stimulate her swollen breasts - licking, sucking, pinching and even the occasional biting.

You took one more taste of Somi’s tits, her moans growing louder as you gave each breast one long slurp and prepared yourself for what was next.

“Looks like...you’re ready to fuck me,” Somi said, feeling the stiffness of your cock that never seemed to die down.

“But before you do, I bet you would love to fuck these big tits huh?”

You were too tired to give an answer, but Somi didn’t need it. She knew your response already as she knelt on the carpet again.

“Thought so.”

It took a while to process the sentence that just escaped out of Somi’s mouth. With her knees on the carpet and a smile on that gorgeous messy face, she leaned forward, cupping her own breasts and wrapped them around your cock, smothering your shaft in the warmth and pillowy softness of her bountiful cleavage.

You groaned as you felt her tits around every bit of your cock. Somi let out cute innocent giggles as she pleased your cock with her big tits, causing grunts and groans at the sensation of her tits wrapped around your needy shaft. She supplied adequate saliva, spitting in between her cleavage constantly to provide generous lubrication that ensured your cock moved smoothly and freely in between those delicious large mounds.

Her ample full breasts felt like heaven as they slid up and down your cock, she pressed her hands around her chest and squeezed tighter, feeling your sensitive shaft throbbing and twitching more as if she were daring you to cum, sensing the climax that had been building up for the last several minutes.

“Do you love this? Do you love fucking my big tits?”

“More than anything in the world, Somi.”

In between deep breaths you moaned Somi’s name as she quickened the pace, trying to lick the tip of your leaking cock every time it reappeared from her deep cleavage, each time she succeeded causing electrifying pleasure.

“Somi...fuck, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

“Then I’ll keep doing this,” she smirked. “Cum if you need to, but you better stay hard. I’m not done with you yet.”

Somi kept your cock tightly contained in her slippery cleavage, staring at the need in your eyes and the uncontrollable yearn for her tits as she sped the tempo up, fueling your demand for release.

With each pump in between her soft breasts, you found it harder to breathe and the aching in the pit of your stomach grew and tensed up your body. Somi took you to your limits, and soon after she brought you past them as you reached an early climax.

Somi grinned wide as you came with a loud greedy groan, your aching cock throbbed as thick spurts exploded out of your tip and filled her cleavage with hot sticky semen, finding her collarbone as a target to paint while the rest of your huge load landed on the top of her delicious breasts

She kept the friction going and didn’t stop grinding her chest until she milked every drop out of you until you had nothing left in the tank to give her. Somi’s lips smiled proudly, admiring the mess you left on her chest and leaned back to give you a view of her cum stained chest as she released you from the confines of her sticky cleavage.

“God, it’s so fucking thick, and sticky. Did you like bursting all over these huge tits?”

“Y-es, I loved it.”

Somi ran a finger in between the load deposited in her cleavage, collecting a bit to sample as she brought it to her lips and sucked it clean with a lewd slurp.

“Yummy,” Somi said, as she used her hands in circular motions to rub your stickiness into her chest, letting a devilish grin form on those plump lips.

“Let me clean you up.”

She sucked and cleaned every inch of your sensitive cock, and the return of her hot breath against your tip brought your erection back to life.

“Good, you’re still hard. Because I have an appetite for a pounding.”

“Whenever you’re ready...I’d be more than happy to demonstrate my favorite position.”

“I’m ready right fucking now,” you said as you stood up from your chair and helped Somi up to her knees.

“Prove it then. Fuck me.”

Somi spun around until she was no longer facing you, placing both of her hands flat on top of the dark wooden desk as she bent her body over it. She grabbed the hem of her tight skirt and hiked it up around her waist, enough to show you her plump ass and the thong that might as well have been see-through with how little it covered up.

As you pushed Somi’s thin thong to the side and revealed her delicious looking pink pussy, you squeezed the warm flesh of her ass and delivered a hard smack to each of her cheeks.

Somi gasped as you delivered a few more slaps to her perfect plump ass, looking between her full thighs at the pink pussy lips that looked divine and drenched with an abundance of slick already.

"Don't keep me waiting. Put that inside me now," she said, her pussy aching with need. You loved to normally tease a woman before you entered her, and you wanted to do the same to Somi but you both had no patience. You needed her now.

Somi looked over her shoulder as you prepared your cock, lining it up with her pretty pussy and placing it between the slippery lips of her entrance, feeling the heat of her core surrounding your cock already.

You entered Somi slowly without any hesitation as you both gave out hungry moans, feeling the tight silky wetness of her pussy that wrapped around your cock as you slid the first few inches inside her. As you settled into the sensations around your shaft as you pushed in deeper, feeling the incredible tightness of her wet pussy as you began stretching her slippery walls out as you filled her with more of your dick.

“Fuck, you're so big. Keep going,” Somi moaned.

The movement of your hips began, the pace slow and steady as you thrusted into Somi’s tight pussy, feeling her getting used to your size as she moaned along with your motions. You grabbed onto Somi’s delicious body by her hips, squeezing them with a firm grip as you found a rhythm, moving in and out at a pace that was not satisfactory for her.

“Harder,” she demanded. “Fuck me like you fucked my face. I know you can do better than this.”

You upped the pace immediately and gave Somi the satisfaction she desperately craved. Your hips smacked against her ass as you pistoned into her tight dripping pussy with ease, her juices slickening up your shaft generously and moaning into the night.

"We're still in a library, Somi," you remarked, and even though the likelihood of being caught was low, you still reached forward and placed a hand over her mouth in attempting to silence her loud moans.

The tight seal on Somi's mouth did not last, as she used the opportunity to suck on your fingers, silencing herself as she lewdly slurped on your fingers. Her wet lips on your fingertips persisted as you pounded into her tight cunt, increasing your pace as you fucked her from behind as deep as you could go, filling her with every last inch of your shaft.

You withdrew your fingers from her lips, feeling the saliva coated on them as you used the same hand and grabbed onto Somi's ponytail and formed a tight fist around it, pulling back and causing her head to jerk back. You felt her walls clenching tighter in response, and with a handful of her hair you absolutely drilled Somi, fucking her with deep long strokes as she let her satisfaction known by releasing loud and drawn-out lustful moans.

"Fuck, you're deep, oh my god fuck me, don't fucking stop!"

You put in more power into your hips as you wrecked Somi from behind, slamming into her tight hole with the harshest thrusts you could summon. The wet sounds of her pussy and slapping sounds as your body smacked against her ass filled your ears and motivated you to keep the harsh pace, increasing Somi's seductive moans as she lost herself in pleasure.

"You really know how to use that fucking cock don't you? God, you're stretching me so wide, I fucking love it," she said, eyes rolling in the back of her head as she was stuffed with cock to the very hilt.

"I can tell by how wet you are. You always like it this rough?"

"Yes. If I can still walk the next day then it wasn't hard enough. Now keep fucking me, use me like the little slut I am."

“With pleasure.”

It wasn’t often that you involved yourself with anyone as unique as Somi. She knew what she wanted, and that was a turn-on in itself. And as you felt the hot pink flesh wrapping around your member, you hoped that this wasn’t a one time thing. There were many things you wanted to do to her, and hell you’d even check out that goofy book to help out.

Somi’s cries of pleasure were intoxicating, and you wanted to hear them as long as you could. You grabbed her breasts from behind and felt her pussy pulsating around you, her tight walls wettening your cock as you pounded into her without a care in the world, knowing that she was close to climax.

You increased your speed even more, playing with her wonderful full breasts and pinching her hard nipples, teasing her into an approaching orgasm that sent her scrambling for anything to grab onto, desperately finding the edge of the table to find an outlet.

“Ah, fuck, I’m cumming!”

Her climax was loud as it was messy, you felt her walls squeezing your cock hard, dripping around your shaft as her body shook violently. It took everything you had to keep yourself deep inside her, fucking her through her wild and intense orgasm which was sending you on the road to your own climax.

“Fuck, Somi, you’re going to make me cum too. Where do you want it?”

“Anywhere you’d like. You can fill me up, or you can paint my face. It’s your choice.“

You smirked at such wonderful invitation “I’d love to cum all over that pretty face. Nothing would make me happier than to see you covered in such a big thick load.”

“Then come make a mess all over me.”

With one more firm squeeze you let go of Somi’s tits, returning your hands to the full wide hips of her body as you gave her everything you had left, fucking her from behind with every last bit of energy and strength, savoring the unforgettable tightness and warmth of her pussy as you grew closer and closer to the edge.

As you pulled out, Somi knew what to do and dropped to her knees one last time, smiling as she awaited what you have in store for her. You took your cock in your hand, slicked with her juices, aiming your cock at the beautiful librarian’s face as your climax neared.

“Shoot that fucking load all over my face.”

She couldn’t wait for you to burst all over her gorgeous face, and neither could you, slowly stroking over her face as she looked up eagerly in anticipation.

Those few final pumps brought you to release and Somi was more than happy to receive your load as you unloaded all over her stunningly beautiful face. Your breath weakened and you let out loud moans as you shot the first few thick spurts onto her forehead, nose, and cheeks, long lines of cum catching in her hair and earning lustful moans as she smiled deeply as she felt the sticky warmth coating her gorgeous face.

You saved the last bit of built up seed and aimed for those beautiful soft lips, painting them white as the final spurts of your load coated them, thick streams clinging everywhere to Somi’s face into a beautiful sticky mess.

You looked down at the proud mess you left on Somi’s beautiful face and she looked up with satisfaction, unable to stop smiling as she gushed in between her thighs. Your hot load clung to her face, the weight of it arousing her to an all time high, and she cleaned your cock once again with sticky white lips sucking the sensitive tip of your cock. Your freshly deposited load began to slowly drip down her cum-stained face, and as you caught you breath you've never seen such a beautiful sight.

Somi giggled as she finished polishing your cock, releasing it with a loud pop that signaled an end to the night's festivities, not that you were really in a position to go again.

“Now that’s a load…”

Somi cleaned up what she could with her fingers, feeling it trickle down into her cleavage as the two of you collectively caught your breath.

“How does it feel... to fuck a librarian?” Somi said, in between deep breaths.

“Amazing. You’re incredible, Somi. I’d love to do this again,” you said, hypnotized by her heaving breasts.

“You know where to find me. I don’t work on weekdays, but I live on campus so I don’t mind coming in for a little one on one assistance. Or maybe you’d prefer the bedroom? I don’t have a roommate.”

“Either sounds perfect.”

“Then I’ll see you soon. It’s almost closing time and I need to clean up this mess you left all over me. " She let an adorable giggle once more as she began to dress and sent you on your way. “Good night, I hope to see you again.”

“Good night, Somi. Thank you for your assistance. “

#kpop smut #somi smut #somi #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #this is really long im sorry #male reader #reader insert

694 notes · View notes

thatringboy · 4 years ago

Text

UA Staff Headcannons

Shota Aizawa // Eraserhead

Is not Shinsou’s adoptive dad, but has shared custody with Shinsou’s parents and Yamada

Is also working on becoming Todoroki’s legal guardian

Has legally adopted Eri, but is looking for her biological family (if she has any left)

Has three cats named Oboro, Mirai and Sniffers

Listens to Yamada’s radio show all the time

Also has a Podcast series with Yamada named “Cloud Nine”

Cloud Nine talks about the life of a hero and controversial topics that go with it

Gets called “dad” by his students so many times, he responds to it naturally

If Eri tells him to wear something or style his hair a certain way, you better believe that he’ll wear it until she says otherwise

Once had a Hello Kitty barret in his hair while teaching

Hizashi Yamada // Present Mic

Knows almost every form of sign language

Doesn’t like to be involved in controversy, but is always ready to speak his mind

His Agency has a Cat Cafe for the first floor

It’s open to the public

All profits from the Cafe go to charities

And you can adopt the cats in the Cafe (it’s like a shelter for them)

Every year on Shirakumo’s birthday, his Radio Station is turned off and isn’t airing anything

Despite not being deaf, he’s an icon in the Deaf Community all over the world

Once lead a parade for people with more destructive quirks to have more rights when using their quirks

Despite having a leather hero costume, his flamboyant personality and his friendship with Kayama, Yamada is actually freaked out by bdsm

Also, his eye color has it’s own specific hex color because of how green they are

Hasn’t had a haircut since High school

Nemuri Kayama // Midnight

Is an outstanding seamstress

Can sew almost anything

Is a Bisexual icon

Currently in an on-and-off relationship with Takeyama

Despite her flirtatious behavior, Kayama is actually very respectful towards her students if she makes them uncomfortable

However, she gives horrible relationship advice

Used to be the Sex Ed teacher at Yuuei for a single semester, but her class was too hard and strict

It wasn’t like “never had sex. sex = bad!” type of strict

No, she’s crazy about consent and safe sex

When she found out that Masaru Bakugou is a fashion designer, she commissioned him to redesign her costume

The style of the costume didn’t change, but it was much easier for Kayama to use her quirk

Has hooked up with Kirishima’s Moms and never talks about it

Ectoplasm

Gets manicures every weekend

Watches the L Word

Once in a fit of rage, he took off a leg and threw it at Yamada

Kayama got it on video

Sometimes goes on Yamada’s radio station to sing

Has been on one episode of Cloud Nine and talked about hero related injuries

Eri once put stickers on his battle legs and he hasn’t removed them

Attends the same injury therapy as Tensei Iida

Is also a quirk rights activist, but not as vocal or iconic as Yamada

Sponsors a toothpaste company

Despite his similarities to Juzo Honenuki, they are not related

But it is an inside joke for them to refer to one another as “Uncle” and “Nephew”

Snipe

Owns a gun store that his mother and sister work at

Nobody knows his actual age, so his birthday cake just has seven candles for November 7th

Isn’t really a cat person and it stirs a rivalry between him and Aizawa

Nobody really knows his actual face either

His quirk doesn’t just work on bullets

Has thrown many objects at students and they always hit

Usually throws flip flops and sandals

His students call him “Chancla Man”

It used to offend him, but not anymore

Has a rocky relationship with Maijima

Ryo Inui // Hound Dog

Has a pet parrot named Turtle

On top of career advice, he also gives good relationship advice

When students take physical tests, he has to be away from them during the Ball Toss because he will chase after it

Hates to be patronized, but loves a good scratch from time to time

Another quirk rights activist and frequently goes on Cloud Nine to talk about different types of quirks

So far, Eri is the only person who has pet him in public

Higari Maijima // Power Loader

Pays for the destruction of the Development Studio with his own money

Often gets IDed when going shopping

Has also been mistaken for a student several times

He was just like Mei Hatsume when he was younger

Has been voted teacher of the year several times in a row

Even non Support Class students like him

Once invented a robot that could play Just Dance so that he could beat Yagi’s high score

That robot is now his teaching assistant

The robot was originally named “D.A.V.E”, but changed to “Junior Loader” after he learned about David Shield

His fingertips are ultra sensitive like ATLA Toph’s feet

He can’t see out of his helmet, but doesn’t want to change the design

He and Snipe don’t talk much and rarely work together because they used to date

It was a strong relationship that ended abruptly and nobody knows why

Snipe doesn’t even get his gear upgraded at Yuuei because of this

The back of his helmet has stickers all over it from Eri and he pretends to not notice

Toshinori Yagi // All Might

Runner up for teacher of the year behind Maijima

Often has to leave Yuuei throughout the day for legal things concerning his retirement, villains he took down in the past and copyright things with his brand

Updated his will to split all of his possessions down the middle between Midoriya and Bakugou

Is upset that Midoriya got new powers with OFA and he didn’t

But won’t tell anyone about that

Dad jokes

Is one of the tallest teachers at Yuuei and gives Eri rides on his shoulders

Has been on Cloud Nine a few times for different things and is a fan favorite

Is the messenger between Snipe and Maijima when they need something

Can still lift a good amount of weight without the use of his quirk

Actually spends a good amount of time mentoring Class 1-B as well, but nobody besides Class B notices

Also gives body positivity seminars

Just Dance king

Sekijiro Kan // Vlad King

Can’t stand Monoma, but won’t expel him because he wants to prove he’s a better teacher than Aizawa

Also gives good relationship advice

Was the Maijima/Snipe messenger before Yagi joined the staff

As a kid, he got nauseous at the sight of blood

For Halloween he and Inui dressed up as Werewolves and Vampires respectfully

Is really supportive of his students when they go through hard times

Has parent teacher conferences once a month to keep parents in the loop

Also is like a dad to his students and sometimes even some of class A

Honestly just a sweet guy

Principal Nezu

Has an underground poker tournament every month

Teachers and Third Years participate

Is kinda scary when you first meet him, but everyone’s used to his bullshit by now

Writes fanfictions about his staff

Some rumors state that this is why Snipe and Maijima broke up

But nothing’s confirmed

Sits in on Kayama’s art classes to “observe students”

Actually is there to learn how to paint

Bob Ross is one of his icons

Ken Ishiyama // Cementoss

Subs for Yamada’s class sometimes

Has an All Might sweatshirt

But stopped wearing it around after Yagi joined the staff

Is the co-father of Inui’s Turtle

Loves to sit in the school library and just read by himself

Lunch Rush

Is a mentor for many students in all tracks of study

Also holds a cooking class everyday

Do. Not. Underestimate. His. Skills.

Is secretly a genius

Chiyo Shuzenji // Recovery Girl

Also is a mentor for many students

Has many student helpers in her office

Is one of the best medical professionals in Japan

Gotta love Nurse Mom

Has many Kamui Woods PEZ dispensers

Midoriya and Yagi are scared of her for obvious reasons, but none of the other people in Yuuei actually know why

When Enji Todoroki went to Yuuei, he burned himself with his quirk sometimes and Shuzenji got onto him about it like she does with Yagi and All Might

Has the respect and fear of most of the Heroing Society

Thirteen

Gender? What’s that?

Prefers she/her pronouns, but responds to all pronouns

When they first joined the Yuuei Staff, almost everyone used he/him pronouns and 13 never corrected them until a few months later

A Non-Binary Icon

Is close friends with Shuzenji and Ishiyama

They have a book club together

(sorry Gran Torino doesn’t make the list because he isn’t yuuei staff anymore)

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thehereticaldeserthermit · 4 years ago

Text

𝕆𝕦𝕥 𝕆𝕗 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

ROLE PLAYER GET TO KNOW YOU PROMPT

Alright TDC Community It’s time for a task,

and this time we’re all going to get to know each other a little better.

Under the cut, you’ll find forty out of character questions split into two parts: OOC about your muses, and OOC about yourself! Answer what you’d like, add more if you’d like.

When you’re done TAG some of your writing partners and keep FUN going.

-there is no pressure to participate

-IF You Are Reading This And You’d Like To Participate Consider Yourself Tagged My Friend!

Much Love,

TheJesseWhoLurks

I tag @lyr-taxidermist @theghostofharar @hurdygurdyskeksis @urskekyagvi @skekmal-the-hunter @skekso-the-emperor @gourdplayer @hedonistschambers @ulvanmaudra @littlebluezoologist @the-wandering-urru @queenofthetides @juliejewel24 @thecastleurru

OOC About Your Character(s)

1. What do you want to get out of playing this character(s)?

The reason I wanted to write for Gra was to meet fellow fans that loved the world of TDC as much as I do, I wanted to find fellow writers. I wanted to steep myself in the fandom. You can easily consider me skeKSis obsessed but I am growing a fondness for their counterparts -slowly ❤

2. Describe your character(s) with three words.

Passionate | Erratic | Trustworthy

3. What made you decide to write this muse?

Originally I was going to pick up The Ritual Master, he’d been my OG fav from the movie BUT Gra kept ... poking me with his scepter? Like; I live in the desert, you live in the desert, Ima recluse, you’re a recluse =we are simpatico. I think The Heretic picked me because he simply would not leave my mind when I considered him as a possibility.

4. If you could change one event in your muse’s life (in their main or canon verse), what would you change?

Canon. I mean they left us kinda hanging there. We really do not know what happened do we? They are simply, just not there anymore. I do not want them to perish, I want them to make it to the finish line and become urSkek. It breaks my heart to think they did not make it.

5. If you could tell your muse one thing, what would you tell them?

I would not say anything, just hug him REALLY tightly and probably not let go until he gives me a chitter-laugh.

6. If you could give your muse one gift, what would you give them?

I would like to give them...ME.

7. If you had to take one positive thing away from your muse, what would you take away?

I do not want to take a positive thing from the fibers that make up Gra. I feel they are very interwoven in his tale. Removing one would make another untether. If I could take away or diminish a bad trait Id have him not be so stubborn and or impatient but then again he would not be Gra now would he?

8. If you could “borrow” one aspect of your muse and apply it to yourself or your own life, what would you borrow?

His determination, passion. Damn son. You get things done.

9. Do you genuinely want your muse to be happy? What do you think would make them most happy in life?

Yes. He’s gotten his ass handed to him, I think he might be owed a slice of peace and happiness. What makes him most happy? He’s already showed me; his relationships whether its friendship, extended family or a lover those are treasures he holds near and dear to his heart.

10. Do you enjoy putting your muse through angst? What do you think would break their heart the most?

Usually I prefer to plot out angst rather then let it completely run a-muck because you never know what your partner is comfortable with, what might trigger them in a detrimental way and simply set fire to a plot unintentionally.

I already know; it literally is ... break his heart.

11. What do you love about your muse?

His dynamic energy, the wild fire, the mystical chaos, the creativity is off the charts. His sharp distinguished features, the way he looks shamanistically feral as compared to his brethren and their Garthic garb. His use of the color red. His scratchy rasp of a voice. His laugh.

12. What do you hate about your muse?

He is a high maintenance muse, he is demanding and screeches loudly for what he wants.

13. What about your muse amuses you?

The fact that he is a skeKSis. This brings a whole slew of challenges to the table for a writer. Case in point, I was writing a reply one day and I went to put something in along the lines of ‘he arched his brow and blah blah’ THEN he hit me! He has no eyebrows to arch, ahhh! I have to stop and think about how to write out expressive traits or reactions that are not of the usual human reaction tone.

14. What about your muse makes you sad?

How fragile his heart really is after all the shit he’s endeared.

15. How would you describe your muse to someone about to meet them, in person, for the first time?

Get Ready For A Wild SURPRISE!

16. Would you like your muse as a person if you met them in real life?

Yes, I like creative souls. I cherish them.

17. In what ways are you better than your muse? In what ways are they better than you?

I do not think I am or he is better than the other.

But I will say he is a handsome devil, for a skeKSis.

18. Why do you think you connect to your muse?

Creative. Outcast.

19. What aspect of your muse’s personality is most important to you? What aspect of your muse’s personality do you think is most important to them? Is it the same? Why or why not?

His passion and drive. I’d say its the same answer for us both. All of the accomplishments he tackled probably had their stacks of obstacles with each to-do. You’d have to have an unending supply of passion and drive to keep going, to complete all. He really is a work-a-holic and a busy body skek.

20. Has your character(s) changed over the time that you have been playing them? How have they changed?

Not yet but I am sure he will, creative liberties will be taken since I only have a a episode or two to work with -am I right?

About You!

1. What is your name?

Jesse.

2. What is your profession?

secret shit.

3. What do you do to relax?

I write. Play video games. Naps are divine. Hot coffee and watch YT videos. DOodle. Desert combing walks. Long hot baths. Organize things xD

4. What is your favorite treat (desert)?

All kinds, I’m not picky. I love me some chocolate lately.

5. Favorite movie

Too many to list. Its October right now. All I want is Hocus Pocus, some Harry Potter and Practical Magick at the moment. Tis the season.

6. Favorite book

I do not think I have a favorite. BUT I will admit that I have a copy of The Dark Crystal that I STOLE FROM A LIBRARY YEARS AGO! I have kept it all this time, its falling apart and its aged with beauty and I adore it ❤ I also have a Jim Henson book about puppetry and his works, there is a page from TDC and if my memory serves me right it has the concept art of skekGra in it sooo sooo I was looking at skekGra YEARS AGO AND HAD NO CLUE the conjunction that would line up in the future! I really neeed to go find this book but its in a storage shed that will be a fresh hell to get to =[ *

7. Favorite vacation spot

Anywhere where its either very green and or by some body of water. Ocean, river, lake. Yes, good. -not very many humans around save for present company reading thiiiis.

8. Favorite Disney movie

Are you kidding me? Too many to list, although I will say The Sword In The Stone did play a part in Gra’s Crystal Skimmer named Archimedes after the grouchy old owl.

9. How did you first get into role playing?

Years ago. I started writing on face book. I wrote for a pirate believe it or not, he was my first muse and he holds special place in my black heart and probably always will. But I am disinclined to acquiesce the gift of further details about this scurvy cursed muse, Ha!

10. What was your first platform? If it was something other than Tumblr, what made you get into Tumblr?

It was face book, before they got all crazy about accounts and security. I moved over to tumblr because writers were incredibly rude and rapid fire RP-ers. One liner sentences and I’m like NOPE I need a novel length.

11. What’s a grammar rule you find yourself breaking or ignoring a lot?

Sometimes I have a touch of dyslexia, sometimes I typo, sometimes I am too tired to proof read, sometimes I make blunders. But I tend to focus on my mistakes rather then other peoples. I just go with the flow, I just write no matter what their level of ‘proper grammar’ IS because I’d like to think that maybe they are just starting out, maybe they will fall in love with writing and maybe they will be the next author who creates a world we all fall in love with and want to immerse ourselves in.

12. Are there any languages besides English in which you think you could comfortably roleplay?

I do not RP in other languages. However I did have a muse at one time who was French, I would throw in little phrases but it was never entirely done in French and I do have a British muse at the moment, so again I will use slang and little sayings to make them well rounded as best as I can. Those are just little details I like to include that many others might skip on but I thrive for deets.

I do however have role play writing partners that are from ALL over the world which is amazing to me.

13. Do you listen to music while your write?

ALOT. I have tracks specifically for skekGra, that take me to his frame of mind. Even TDC soundtrack at times, the puppet show song and the blue flame part 2 are on replay a lot.

14. Are you a morning, day, evening, or night writer?

I am all over the place. My life is very hectic. I’d like to say its usually in the afternoon of evening for me, the house is settled down and things are silent but thats not always how it works out. Oftentimes I will sit down and write a reply or two, then dip to do mundane human things that adults do, then return back for a few more replies.

15. How does tiredness affect your writing?

Kills it. The weekends I work long hours therefor my brain is like WHAAAT.

16. What is your biggest obstacle to writing every day, if time doesn’t count?

It is always TIME. Sometimes stress levels can be an obstacle too, no lie. If something major is going on, I just throw my hands up like ‘I got nothin’’ and thats that.

17. How many drafts is a paralyzing amount?

Oh damn. Been there done that. I am much more picky about it nowadays. I try to limit skekGra to a certain number of replies because he also has to allow room for other muses.

Currently: Gra has ten replies on tumblr -no actually 11 &&& 4 on discord. I am two shakes away from cutting HIM OFF! lol.

18. Is there anything character-wise or writing style-wise that you can’t stand?

I’m open to different characters, I have written with a lot. I love a writer who has style, I appreciate the effort.

Etiquette, manners and consideration are oftentimes LACKING as of late.

19. What kind of anonymous questions are your favorite?

ANYTHING as long as it is not anon HATE.

20. What is your weakest point in writing? Angst, fluff, dialogue, etc.?

T I M E not having enough time to write the angst fluff and dialogue, smut too lets be real. It really is a bummer to me when I do not have the time, I work, I have a a lotta responsibilities, my life is like a hurricane a lot of the time so TIME is my weakness, oftentimes I am super J E L L O of people who are online all day, every day, always there I’m envious and I get writers FOMO which makes me laugh but its so damn true I could ugly laugh cry about it.

#OOC: Post Is Out Of Character #||| Just a lil get to know me thingy |||#the dark crystal #tdc age of resistance #skeksis #skekgra #skekgra the conqueror #skekgra the heretic

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mentalisttraceur-software · 4 years ago

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The specific problem that prompted the last post was Go code getting an ID from an API.

It is very... in vogue nowadays to only do signed integers. Many languages don't even have a separate unsigned type, and in Go's case, the type exists but you are actively discouraged from using it.

Conceptually, the ID is not a signed integer. It is probably an unsigned integer.

I say "probably" because almost no one documents anything to the level of technical precision that lets you actually know anything for sure about anything. It is documented as monotonically incrementing and every example I have seen shows the ID as small positive numbers. It appears both in JSON as a number and in a messaging protocol on the wire as four bytes. That's basically all the constrains I actually have on what it "really" is.

Oh also I have other libraries for reference within the company which alternatively treat it as either signed or unsigned, so clearly no one else knows either.

Anyway, Go convention suggests I just use a signed integer. A careful think over of Go's underspecified integer conversion behavior and the odds of ever actually reaching the edge cases where it would matter suggests that it's probably fine to do so.

It's entirely possible that the entire system I'm talking to breaks if IDs ever get that big. But on the other hand it would be reasonable for the system to support bigger IDs and just assume that if it ever gets to that point, the wire level protocol only storing the bottom four bytes of those IDs would be okay. In fact a careful analysis of how the ID is used in that context suggests this is extremely likely to be true, because IDs at the wire level have a lifetime of weeks at most. In the very unlikely event they enter really long term storage it is very likely that there will be other ways to discriminate IDs.

But every instinct I have developed about the value of type systems and types and more importantly about what helps humans analyze code for truly rigorous comprehensive correctness is yelling at me to make it unsigned. The amount of mental tension is reduced when I make things unsigned, because the amount of "what could go wrong and how" is collapsed significantly. I can hold the entire set of what can go wrong with unsigned integers in my mind at the same time. I haven't even finished doing a mental traversal of everything that can go wrong with signed integers in this case.

Which brings me to my first attempt at wording the issue I have with "use signed integers for everything (unless you have very good reason to do unsigned)": it strikes me as slightly optimizing for casual intuitionistic coding, which is inherently probabilistically harmful because it is doomed to produce real bugs of consequence no matter how childproof you try to make the feature set it gets to work with, at the expense of making rigorous and meticulous coding much harder.

That's not necessarily the main point I wanted to make here. My main point is venting as I process just how much time I take because of how I think about code.

#software #software design #go #how i waste my abilities

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111blogger · 4 years ago

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Experiencing Your Travels To Spain

Contemplating visiting Spain? Spain - located in southwestern Europe about the Iberian Peninsula - continues to be one of the more preferred attractions and travel destinations equally as much right now since it is definitely previously. Possibly you're wanting to know about where you should pay a visit to in Spain... Maybe you want to learn more about its history and experience its incredible effect in European art work... What ever your causes of seeking to go to are, you're certainly sure to take pleasure in the unique traditions, customs, and background of this region when you've appeared there.

Obviously, the architecture of Barcelona, the Holy Monstreat, as well as the Toledo cathedral turn this a popular coordinate. And as this is this sort of hot vacation area, you're advised to help make your air carrier reservations, motel reservations, Cafelavista and car lease plans early on - 3 or 4 several weeks in advance as a matter of truth - particularly when tourist might be high (summer season, holidays, etc.). When you would rather vacation "off-period," - which is, while in a time when vacation is reduced, you may possibly not have to make this sort of very early bookings. Within the latter scenario, one month-sophisticated planning may be adequate.

After you've produced your concerns, you may fulfill all of your time preparing for precisely what Spain offers. One of the ways you can do that is certainly by using a neighborhood trip to your preferred library and perusing the enormous quantity of publications about Spain. By doing this, you are able to prepare yourself with the language - possibly even have a look at a number of publications or audio tapes of your terminology (if offered) and additionally understand more about Spain's financial process.

You should always understand admittance needs, inoculations and other security info you will need before going not just to Spain - but also almost anyplace out of the nation. But you can also get to know the dress in the property and possibly use a number of nearby dining places that provide Spanish food and engage in a bit of its native songs. Obviously you can visit your gallery and find out about the ability of the land so that you'll know what to look for after you arrive - specifically, the works of El Greco. The thought the following is to coach yourself amid all of the enthusiasm of going to a position so abundant in tradition!

Now a lot of people like spontaneity - a little bit experience - the unidentified - whatever you want to consider it, but many of us like to create an schedule of things to do and locations to look. If you're the "planning variety," then you definitely might enjoy spending some time to road map out your adventure. And there's certainly no problem with that - seeing that you're visiting a new location, your chances of getting fed up or going against spontaneity are incredibly slim since Spain has a great deal to offer to each of your actual detects!

When and when you produce such an itinerary, some of what it is advisable to involve needless to say are such things as instances to enjoy, acquire trips, attend demonstrates, and (our favorite) store! You might think that this information is hard to find but due to the World wide web, it truly isn't' difficult to get at all. If you're by using a tour operator, after that your endeavours to complete an schedule ought to be pretty little. However, if you're functioning by itself, you are able to certainly look at the tourist websites of Spain and create your very own graph of items to find out and revel in.

If you're helpful with the indigenous words of Spain (which you might have correctly thought is Spanish), it is possible to certainly read through a couple of on the web Spanish classifieds to find occasions and local people which might be of interest for you. Chances are that you'll discover much more amusement info by looking at a Spanish newspaper than you will in the event you solely trusted an English presentation.

After you've arrived and also have discovered transport to your resort, it is possible to inquire further more to locate more interests. By now, you have to be talking just a little Spanish to enable you to effectively talk and exchange money with your accommodation director:

Hola! (Hello)

Gracias! (Thank You)

Como te llamas? (What's your name?)

Como estas? (How are you currently?)

Me llamo... (My label is...)

Soy de United States of America (I'm in the United states)

No comprendo (I don't recognize)

Por favor (you should)

Me numero de telefono es el... (My telephone number is [and then the phone numbers in Spanish [uno, dos, tres, quatro, cinco, and so forth.)

You'll of course would like to learn how to request other important matters like aid and directions. These are among the points that will make your vacation to Spain more fun - especially as you talk using the natives and try out new foods or amusements that you simply hadn't even prepared for! Just remember to pack the digital camera or your modest online video cam so that you can document your experience and appreciate them loved ones back home.

Journey in Spain by Taxi

Touring by taxi cab in Spain gives an extremely practical way to relocate about and "view-see." Like touring by taxi in the states, lowest charges go with metered mileage along with a small additional cost for baggage and evening hours - nighttime - or holiday brings.

Spain Traveling Recommendations

European Union inhabitants (18 several years or more mature) must individual a nationwide driving permit to operate a vehicle in Spain, however non-Western Union citizens (18 many years or more mature) also need a global Traveling Permit also. The two varieties of residents will need to have car insurance and id (certificate, passport, etc.) legally, is needed always. Chair belts should be worn by all travellers, and travellers under the age of 14 should be seated within the back seating from the motor vehicle. When traveling, keep in mind that driving a vehicle jobs are reversed to American drivers. You have to deliver to on-approaching visitors from junctures and targeted traffic groups.

Additional care should be delivered to restrict your driving for the primary paths specified on the most recent maps with this region as other paths will not be ideal for driving (grime roads, hill passes by, and many others.). In metropolitan regions, you may conveniently refuel your vehicle from unleaded or diesel service stations. However if you'll generate for long amounts of time, it's best if you completely fill your aquarium, as energy stations are sparse in outlying portions of the country.

Driving rates are often restricted to 30 mph to 56 mph, even so traveling rates can increase from 62 miles per hour to 75 miles per hour on highways with more than two lanes. Be prepared to spend both factor and set toll charges related to metropolis admittance approaches.

Traveling in Spain by Automobile / Automobile Rental

Simply because Spain's city centres are so well-known, you are cautioned to prevent traveling in these areas - especially considering that the filter highways within these locations can support targeted traffic traveling in 1 route only. Moreover, left vehicles make driving a vehicle extremely hard. Traveling by vehicle hire is advisable completed by following a recent map of its roads - which offer opinions which are literally remarkable.Visit website for more information about Spain.

#traffic #aquarium #Additional #experience

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86-was-his-year · 6 years ago

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Wrong House | Johnny Seo |

Summary: Slytherin! Johnny Seo takes interest in you and you wonder how he was sorted into Slytherin in the first place.

Warnings: Nothing really just Johnny being a sweetheart like he always is.

A/N: This is probably so gross but I can’t help putting Johnny in Slytherin. And I’m a sucker for the classic Hufflepuff! reader and Slytherin! other guy. Anyway, I love Johnny Seo and that’s about it.

Scared is an understatement to when it comes to the house of Slytherin. All house rivalries have ended most of us becoming friends but Slytherin stayed alone hiding in their common room under the lake. Everyone tried to ignore there rude advances or their irking comments that has even the professors complaining.

Most of the Slytherins are pure-blood and proud of it, making everyone else feel inferior to them, a talent in the Slytherin house. As a Hufflepuff, it was even harder for me, the shiest house against the meanest, and sometimes it was harder than I thought it was. Being born from Gryffindor parents it was difficult for me to talk about my problems to them. They would tell me to suck it up and show them a piece of my mind but, as I think about it hurting their feelings would make me just as bad as they are so, I keep my mouth shut in these moments.

It was a normal Monday morning, not my favorite day of the week but that could be said by everyone. After a long night of studying and wrapping up assignments that were due today, I stumbled down the hall in my disheveled robes. My papers were threatening to fall from my hands and my black and yellow tie refused to follow my instructions and hung from my neck in a sad heap. Finals week was here and as I rushed through the halls I worried that I would miss it and get low marks.

As I burst into Professor McGonagall's classroom all eyes abandoned her and focused on me. She looked at me with a worried glance and I gave her a face of humble apologies, hopefully, she understood what I was trying to say.

“As I was saying since its finals week we shall be going to the library so people can get caught up and finish their work. Those who have finished all their back work can browse around the library.” Kids began to pack up their things and rush to the library, mostly to mess around rather than to actually study.

“Y/N can you stay with me for a minute.” As I reached the door and locked eyes with Taeyong she called me over. My heart started to race and I began to sweat, this was it. My perfect streak was going to be ruined.

“I’ll meet you by the magical creatures section.” Taeyong looked at me and then to McGonagall, silently hoping that she would spare me.

“Okay, see you there.” I waved and turned to face McGonagall. Her eyebrows were drawn up to the middle of her forehead, an expression of worry plastered on her wrinkled face.

“Now Y/N, I know you’re not usually late to class. What happened?” She slipped her wand into her robe and gave me her full attention.

“I-I,” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I just couldn’t get much sleep last night. I was studying and I didn’t check the time and I guess I fell asleep. I’m so sorry professor I didn’t mean to-”

“Slow down Miss Y/L/N. I understand and even I have gone through a few rough patches. I know exams are important but they aren’t worth your health. Study at safe hours and get some sleep tonight. You’re dismissed.” She sighed and began to gather parchment slips off her desk.

“I’ll see you in the library Professor.” I gathered myself and tightened the parchments in my grasp. She nodded and I walked away from her. The shame of getting scolded by the nicest teacher was a shame I could not live down even if no one knew about it. The halls were quiet and dusty as they normally were but today they seemed hazy like I couldn’t focus on one thing.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Taeyongs voice rang through the cloudiness and I shook the haze away, turning to him. “You’ve been standing there for two minutes now.” His hand on my shoulder is what truly brought me back down to Earth. His kind smile lightened the mood and I smiled back, thankful for his help.

“Yeah, I’m just really tired. I really don’t think I can make it through this day.” Taeyong led you back to the magical creatures section and pulled up a chair.

“Sit down.” His voice was calm yet stern and I knew that he would make me sit down one way or another. Plus, I really didn’t have the energy to tell him no or to even keep standing.

“Thanks.” I sat on the wooden chair and felt my body relax into it.

“I’m going to ask you to be honest. When is the last time you had a good sleep.” His hand was pulling something out of his bag and he began to scribble something down.

“Depends on what you mean by good.” I chuckled but deep down I felt tears welling in my eyes.

“Good as in you felt fresh and okay to start the day.” He stopped scribbling and looked up to me.

“Um..” I racked my brain and the last good sleep I can remember was during the summer while living with my parents.

“Okay if it takes you that long to think about it then it’s been too long. You need help.” He scribbled more and let the ink dry before rolling it up.

“I’m sorry but, what’s written on that parchment?” I pointed weakly the paper and he smiled again.

“Help. Now,” He walked over to the owl specifically for library student and whispered something them. The owl hooted and gripped the letter from Taeyongs hands. “I’m going to tell Professor McGonagall that you are sick and then you are going to take you to Madam Pomfrey to see what’s going on with you.” He grabbed my things and popped them into his bag.

“Taeyong I really need to study.” I weakly reached for the bag and he shook his head before pulling it onto his shoulder.

“You’ve studied long enough. You need to sleep it’s not even an option anymore.” He reached his hand out and waited for me to take it. “Y/N-”

“Don’t you get it I can’t!” I snapped and raised my voice. A chorus of ‘Shh’s’ came from throughout the library and I covered my mouth.

“What’s going on over here? Mister Lee is everything alright?” Professor McGonagall came around shelves and looked at my appearance. Disheveled in a wooden chair looking like Hell.

“No, she refuses medical treatment. She’s been up for two days straight.” Taeyong explained and McGonagall crouched down to my level.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her hand came up to my forehead and she took her hand back immediately. “Send for Johnny.” She turned to Taeyong and he smiled.

“Already done ma’am he should be on his way now.” Taeyong smiled and gathered the rest of his stuff.

“Who’s Johnny?” I asked McGonagall and she sighed.

“He’s a 7th year who helps Madam Pomfrey.” McGonagall stood up and shooed other snooping students away. I will clear your attendance for two days. There will be nothing but review days for your last classes and you can do that while resting.” She nodded and Taeyong before leaving to take care of the rest of her students.

“Id he nice?” I asked and leaned back on the chair.

“Yes, don’t worry I’ve been in the same position and he helped me. It was worth it just relax and don't’ be scared.” Taeyong crouched to my level as McGonagall had done and rubbed my head. The action was euphoric and I let my eyes close before snapping them open.

“Will she be okay?” I heard Taeyong’s voice filter through my ears. My vision was watery and blurring causing me to rub them roughly.

“Yeah, just a minor stress case. We’ll give her some relaxers and I’ll help her sleep. It’s common in this age range to get a little too stressed.” I didn’t recognize the voice that I heard next and I rubbed my eyes harder, trying to get rid of the fog that covered my optic nerves.

“Taeyong?” I called to him and I heard shuffling.

“Don’t be scared okay. Don’t freak out he won’t hurt you.” My vision cleared and I found out why he was reassuring me. A tall Slytherin with dark brown hair stood before me. His smile got larger and I looked to Taeyong.

“Who’s he?” My heart started beating unusually fast and Taeyong grabbed my hand.

“He’s Johnny. He’s going to help you. I know you’ve had bad experiences with Slytherin but he’s a good guy. He’s my friend and he wouldn’t dare hurt you.” Taeyong motioned for Johnny to crouch and he obeyed.

“Hey kiddo, it’s Y/N isn’t it?” His soft voice was calming and he smiled again, causing my anxiety and fear to subside. I nodded and he looked to Taeyong.

“Don’t let her talk her way out of it. She’ll try.” Taeyong gave Johnny a small side hug before leaving through the bookshelves. I rolled my eyes and scoffed, Taeyong had caught onto my plan even before I had even started it.

“Alright Y/N, let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey and see what’s up.” He reached his hand and offered it for me to take. I grabbed his hand only for the sole reason that I knew that I couldn’t get up on my own. “There we go.” His praise had my stomach flitting with butterflies and I smiled.

“Thanks.” I stretched a bit and let him lead me out of the library. The eyes on the back of my head weren’t able to be dismissable as we made our way out.

“So, in order to help you, I need to know a bit about you. Is it okay if I ask you some questions?” Johnny looked at me with comforting eyes and that’s when I began to trust him. He held me lightly by the small of my back and lead to the small medical building above the clock tower.

“Yes, it’s okay.” I smiled and let him take me where ever. I was becoming more and more tired by the second but when my eyes closed something in my body jolted me back awake.

“When did this happen?” Johnny led you up the steep stairs with ease and sat you on a white linen bed. The trip was shorter than what I remember from when Taeyong took a bludger to the head.

“I don't know. A couple of weeks ago. It just started with a jolt awake and I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. But a couple of days ago I couldn’t sleep at all. I would study to try and get myself tired but I would just end up staying up all night.” Johnny was looking around the cabinets for something when Madam Pomfrey came into the medical office.

“Oh! Johnny hello. Who’s this?” She came over and assessed my physical condition. “I see no signs of broken bones or scrapes. Fever is running high and her pupils are dilated.” Johnny came over with a weird pot and handed it to Madam Pomfrey.

“She came from Transfiguration class. She hasn't slept in two days.”

“That explains the fever and the dilation. Some lavender and lemon balm should work. Take her to her common room and administer them there.” Madam Pomfrey looked to me and smiled. “I hope you feel better soon dear.”

“Thank you.” Johnny held onto two small vials and grabbed my hand lightly.

“I’m going to operate to your common room. Can you tell me the house password?” Johnny sat next to me on the bed and I nodded.

“Chipped Gillyweed.” Johnny laughed and held tighter onto my hand.

“Brase yourself it might be a little rough for your head.” He closed his eyes and my life before my own. The feeling of being sucked away and moved around felt almost like riding a broomstick, only a little more violent. When I opened my eyes I felt woozy and sick. My vision was blurry and I could make out the painting that hid the common room.

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” I mentioned after he let the painting know that password.

“That can happen after your first operation. I didn’t want to make you walk anymore and the Hufflepuff common room was all the way on the other side. You’ll feel better once we get you to bed.” He made sure no one was there before he led you up to the girl dormitories.

“I’ll change my clothes just wait outside.” I yawned and changed my clothes quickly to not keep Johnny waiting.

“Are you done Kiddo?” His deep voice rang out through the room and I nodded before stopping myself and giving him a small yes.

“What do I do now?” I looked to him as he set out the vials on the table.

“Just lay on the bed and I’ll be there in a second.” The plush bed welcomed me and I took in the scent of it. Old dust and my own weird scent of my shampoo. Johnny sat of the bed and watched me turn over for him. “Lay your head on my legs.” Johnnys' hands looked oily and wet but the smell coming from them was amazing.

“What’s that?” I looked to his hands and took another sniff, taking delight in the tingle of my olfactory senses.

“Lemon and lavender. Two know relaxers. I’ll just rub them into our skin and it should put you right to sleep. But, while I do this,” He moved my hair back and put his warm hands onto my slim neck. I flinched but relaxed as he began to rub the solutions into my skin. “Tell me. What’s the beef between you and Slytherin? If you don’t mind me asking.” He moved his large hands up to my face and lightly rubbed the solutions there as well.

“I got jumped by some of them in my second year and they almost killed me. I don’t know why but they wanted me dead like they had some personal vendetta against me.” I sighed as I recalled the memory but I could feel every inch of my begin to relax.

“Oh,” He rubbed his hands onto his robe put his hand to your hair. The ponytail it was in was taken out and he began to massage my scalp. The light strokes of his long fingers pulled me into a weird trance. My eyes were getting lighter and my brain was beginning to turn off. “Well, it’s okay know, love. I’m here and no one will hurt you ever again okay?”

“You know Johnny, I think they put you in the wrong house.” And with those words I let him put me to sleep.

#Johnny Seo #Johnny Seo smut #nct 127 #nct #nct smut #nct hogwarts au #slytherin!johnny

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neo---blue · 6 years ago

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These Sheets, Those Shelves, and This Shitty Place (—and Shion)

Shion's warmth is fading from the mattress. Nezumi feels disarmed.

Shion has just finished the Iliad and is going off to look for the Odyssey after Nezumi told him they were related works. What of it?

A loaded exchange between Shion and Nezumi in the library vault on a night before the Manhunt

hello. i finished this after my birthday so of course i wanted to update the shion/nezumi birthday fic, but this finished itself first so... hehe. >:) anyway, here it is. in the manga and novel, they said that the manhunt came "one day, out of the blue" so i just supposed it didn't immediately happen after that chapter nezumi had an episode and danced with shion to make him stop worrying about him, and i supposed that that didn't immediately happen after they ambushed fura. yes. super wordy and introspective, but i really enjoyed writing this. i hope you enjoy reading it as well!

6.6k+ words on ao3 or Keep Reading!

Nezumi whistles, not looking up from his book, not even when he feels Shion stirring beside him. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah," Shion answers from the other side of their bed, "I'm sure there was a copy when I organized all our books."

‘Our books?’ Nezumi twists himself towards the wall on his side of their bed, away from the rest of their room, having to raise his book slightly to keep his shadow from covering words he hasn't been registering. "Good luck," he mutters as courtesy, not meaning it but earning a response from Shion anyway,

"I'll go check right now."

Shion sits up. It's with much effort that he lifts the blanket off of himself, body quick to protest the loss of direct warmth from Nezumi. It's for this sole reason that Shion considers not leaving anymore. But shortly he's able to reason that he already has half of all the books over there in his mental catalog, and he already knows how to maneuver around this general area, knows it like the back of his hand; he won't take too long.

Shion dangles his legs off the bed, with less effort now, peering down at the floor. He reaches for each of Nezumi's slippers by stretching his legs, using his toes to turn one over and using his heel to drag the other closer. He shifts all of his weight forward and stands, every movement careful not to disturb the mattress nor Nezumi.

Nezumi doesn't mind it. He just eyes the same line on the same page for the nth time. He comes close to giving up altogether; on top of not having been able to read in silence all evening, Nezumi is becoming thoroughly distracted now that Shion is continuing,

"I'm just not sure where I categorized it under." Shion's padded towards the shelves, looking through the sections, blinking slowly to connect his rote memory to this overwhelming reality. He has an urge that he holds: the urge to comment, again, for the nth time, on how amazing this place is, by the sheer number of books housed within it; he feels the same immense sense of curiosity now as he did the first time he'd entered here, books piled up high on the bed and the couch and the floor and every other surface in the room. That they're organized now doesn't change how his heart beats with excitement every time he thinks of how many stories there must be here to read and learn about, how much of all of it makes up the boy he saved four years ago. He only goes on now, "Besides, Nezumi..."

"What?"

"You wouldn't help me," Shion mumbles, content with skimming his fingers along rough, old spines, each hiding yellowed pages that held words and worlds he's yet to explore. "It's why organizing all the books took longer than I wanted."

"Don't complain," Nezumi complains, chides, switching his book over to his other hand, "you're the one who volunteered to do it." He's positive they both remember clearly, even if it was several months ago:

'It'll take a hundred years—' 'I'll do it in a week!’

"I did," Shion agrees instantly, though it took a week and a day. He shakes the thought off, crouching down to look from the bottom shelf up. "But it would have been nice if you helped me decide whether to catalog them by author, year published, title, or genre—"

"And? Where would you have put it if I told you I wanted them arranged by author?" Nezumi challenges, "You didn't even know who Homer was yet at that point."

"Well," Shion replies, still scanning the titles. "I do now—"

"No you don't," Nezumi cuts in. "I don't even know who Homer is. Actually, no one knows who Homer is."

"...What’s that mean?"

"The problem with all these epics is that they're so old no one even knows who the hell actually wrote them or where the hell they actually came from anymore. Was Homer a bard who ran around singing epics for money and fun? Was Homer a bunch of poets coming up with stories off the top of their heads at a symposium? Was Homer an entire country that wanted to decide on an origin story once and for all? And did Homer even exist to begin with? In reality, there's a huge possibility that Homer's epics have been edited a handful of times by different people from different times. And remember, this was ancient, a point in history when they'd just started actually writing stuff down, and by then the story's already been no less than a hundred years old..."

Shion didn't seem to notice when exactly his gaze drifted away from the books, to fix itself on Nezumi's figure: his untied hair, his steady back, the fingers poised gracefully to hold his book to the wall. All Shion knew was that he was hanging on to every one of Nezumi's words with wonder. See, when Nezumi spoke, nothing else in this room mattered to Shion except him.

When Nezumi's trailed off for a moment, a thought— several thoughts— wedge themselves in the back of Shion's mind. As he processes the cognitive overload from ideas he's never once imagined in his life, especially having never been exposed to the topic at hand, heavily discouraged from pursuing the arts and humanities in No.6, he's led to a related feeling: annoyance...? or something akin to it.

Any memory Shion has of anyone talking this much was of the students in his grade of elites— err, the one he was kicked out off for 'poor decision-making skills.' The kids in that class always talked about their own specialties like they knew it all.

And with No.6's education system, really, it wasn't unlikely that they did know it all. But more than that, they talked like they were the only ones that mattered. Of course they would feel that way as citizens born into a special status that promised them lofty quarters to rest and relax in, endless electronic resources for elaborate self-study, and overall sophisticated houses that fit their lifestyle perfectly. This education, providing for the maximum ideal conditions for growth and development, ensured that students will know it all.

Shion recollects that even Safu found ways to fit her specific neuroscientific register and vocabulary in everyday conversations. But to him she was never annoying, he never felt spoken over. She was slightly, slightly awkward, a little rough around the edges towards those who made fun of the way she dressed, and she didn't know how to pause for breath when she lectured Shion on hormones and their consequent bodily reactions— but she only ever sounded passionate, never like a know-it-all; she didn't speak just to gloat about how much she knew or boast her special status as the high-class citizen she was.

Additionally, Safu was actually talented. Shion has been turning it over in his head for a while now since the time he was evicted from Chronos, because it hadn't felt all that different: had he actually been talented himself or did he just luck out getting top scores in his early assessment? Developmental cognitive studies is as far from his own ecology major as emergency medical procedures, but if he were able to perform an impromptu suture-surgery on a bullet wound by memory of one video at age 12, he guessed there was a high chance that he wouldn't be wrong to assume that an aptitude exam taken at age 2 could hardly be reliable especially the older a subject gets.

In the least, even if Shion weren't talented— and by no means does he have any misgivings coming to terms with this— he was never at risk of flunking out from the special course. Maintaining grades in the special classes wasn't exactly easy, and he saw a handful of other classmates leave for unsatisfactory performance, but if he focused enough it was a breeze. Still not as talented as Safu, though. And besides, he flunked out of the special course regardless, just for his own reasons.

As he helped his mother pack up their things from Chronos to prepare for the tedious move to Lost Town, Nezumi's words made carved deeper impressions in Shion's mind and gave his feelings a tact that helped him realize how out of place he'd felt all along at the very top with the smartest kids in his grade. His plain, humble times with Karan at Lost Town didn't make him feel any less dignified or any less real.

And even as he jumped out of the Security Bureau's remote-controlled car and tossed his official citizen ID to keep moving, keep running (and swimming) to find himself here in an underground library vault in West Block, Nezumi's words materialized and Shion could finally fully grasp them:

'Petri dish elites' was on-point, is exactly what they are, what Shion used to be— brought up and pampered in artificially perfect environments to be reared and controlled exactly as they should.

But in Lost Town and West Block alike, especially here in this room— in a place that experiences the real impacts of fickle weather and he has to either turn the heater up or scoot closer to Nezumi to make it through the night without his teeth chattering the entire time, in a place where he's free to pursue any book he wants to read on any topic, whether scientific or literary (but mostly literary) and learn about heroes and dramas and tragedies— a place he can call his starting point, Shion realized that human beings needed much less than the luxuries in Chronos and in No.6 in order to live a content life.

With little to nothing but the clothes on his back, with Nezumi and the library and this bunk they share, Shion feels like he has everything he could ever need.

Shion wonders how Safu would react if he said that to her.

It's because I left No.6... He comes up with the words in his mind, as if addressing them to Safu, that I discovered what kind of person he really is, the very reason I didn't get to push through with the special course. That I discovered what kind of person I really am. It's not a walk in the park, but... I don't regret meeting him, or following him, or staying with him. In fact... he's just like you, in a way.

He could almost hear Safu's voice, pretend-condescending but undeniably sweet, What are you talking about, Shion?

Shion closes his eyes. What was he talking about?

Safu and Nezumi may speak on relatively similar levels of enthusiasm when it came to things they're knowledgeable about— whether it's neuroscience or literature— but there's no way Safu and Nezumi are alike, not even at the base level however he cut it.

Nezumi never spoke warmly, or cheerfully, or looked at Shion like he was the most wonderful part of his life. Nezumi's words were always cold, edged, and quite frankly he looked down on Shion more than anything.

Shion treasures them both, though. That's about all they may ever have in common. He would do anything to keep them both in his life, protect them at any cost.

Shion recalls vividly the sensation of Nezumi's fingers interlocked with his, and he's able to calm down the extreme anxiety that rises in his chest with every thought he gets of Safu these days.

The only way he's able to stand his ground knowing Safu is currently in danger is by Nezumi, the faith he has in the plans they have to go save her themselves. The waiting is just part of the plan. And it's a huge part of the plan— if he breaks by utter tension now, it's all going to be for naught.

So Shion takes a deep breath for the time being, lends himself to the soothing feeling of being here, falling for Nezumi. He's able to smile as he opens his eyes to look through the old books again, listening not to his haphazard, discomforting, annoying thoughts, but to Nezumi.

"What I'm trying to say is, authorship for the really old stuff is quite the controversial thing. And from the start, it was a no-go for you to arrange them by year published either. I would suppose that even the greatest libraries still have no clue about everything to this day," Nezumi is explaining. "Hear me, Shion? Get what I mean?"

"I get it," Shion hums, "somehow. And there's no appeal to having just arranged everything alphabetically, right?"

"Right, exactly."

"Right," Shion nods to himself, "exactly."

"So?" Nezumi prompts again, "Where do you think you would have put the Odyssey?"

"Well, if I knew everything I know now," Shion starts, sounding a tad bit dramatic as he gets back on his feet, stretching away the strain in his legs from bending his knees for a second too long. "I might've just put it under classics with the Iliad. How would I have known the Odyssey was a sequel?"

"A spin-off, technically— but fair enough. I don't think there was any way you could've known better before anyhow."

"Yup," Shion concedes, casually, unafraid to admit he didn't know; he likes to believe that he's entirely past the shame of knowing less than he ought to when it comes to things like this. "Even now, I still hardly know anything about literature. Can you cut me some slack?"

Nezumi shrugs his shoulders. He folds the page he's been stuck on and sets his book down. He rolls over away from the wall, arm unconsciously falling forward to feel Shion's residual warmth on his side of the bed. He glances at the copy of the Iliad Shion's left behind before finding that Shion's disappeared into the space between the other bookcases. "Since I'm feeling generous," Nezumi simpers into the pillow, "fine."

While it's a topic close to Nezumi's heart for various reasons, he can't fault Shion for his naivety if it's not about the hideous workings of this world or the nihilistic cruelty of reality. Tonight, there's no need for hostility; he wouldn't let Shion make excuses for anything else.

"I will cut you some slack."

"Thanks," Shion answers from a far corner of the library, voice muffled from being absorbed by the volume and volumes of books.

"I gotta say though, Shion," Nezumi calls, raising his voice if only slightly to reach Shion from the bed and beyond the first shelves across the room, "You finished the Iliad in three days. I'm surprised."

"I don't know," Shion chuckles sheepishly, voice automatically adjusting as well, "Once I was past all the language in Shakespeare, other things seemed a little easier to digest."

"Ooh," Nezumi moves onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and picking up Shion's book instead of his own. He raises it above him, makes a show of fanning through the pages elegantly, to no one in particular, perhaps to himself. With his arms outstretched and dust catching in his shirt sleeves, he idly muses that there was always something so calming about flipping through these pages this way. His eyes fall closed in relaxation, lips curling in satisfaction. "I'm impressed. So Your Majesty truly is a fast learner."

"Why," Shion sings, from another corner of the library, "my most trusted liege Nezumi, was that praise?"

Nezumi's eyes shoot open at the comment, he freezes— had he really just praised Shion? His fingers are clutching at the book now, and he has to physically stop himself from using it, open and dusty, to cover his face.

Instead, he feigns plaintiveness despite knowing Shion hadn't seen his reaction, doesn't even turn his head. He closes Shion's book carefully and puts it down beside him, shifting to sit by propping himself up on an arm.

Shion's warmth is fading from the mattress. Nezumi feels disarmed.

Several thoughts occupy his mind, faster than any of the words he's given up repeatedly trying to take in all evening, and they're all about Shion.

Easily, effortlessly, expectedly, all he can think about again is Shion.

Nezumi licks his lips, trying to decide what to quip about first, which to scoff at and make a snide remark on, to save himself from this disarmed feeling that he absolutely hates: that Shion just sang-song an obvious attempt at a comeback, that the book by his hand lay perfectly flat and even, or that these sheets, those shelves, and this shitty place will never be the same again—

Shion, his voice, it has a specific quality: genuine-sounding and engaging, modulations mice and children alike have grown fond of listening to for a reason or another. If he just learned to project and animate that pathetic monotone Macbeth wouldn't have to roll over in his grave— that's what Nezumi used to think. But just now, Shion's response, it was sanguine, true to character: a one-liner that undoubtedly matched Nezumi's well-rehearsed effort to play with him this king-vassal ruse.

Nezumi lets his mind wander in that direction— when did Shion learn to act so well? It was probably a fluke and nothing more, but a part of Nezumi wouldn't put it past Shion to just learn how to do it even if they'd both agreed that he wasn't cut out to play roles he's not suited for in the least. He contemplates what kind of person Shion is, and arrives to some conclusion that if there were any book on theatrics laying around here— not unlikely, by the way— Shion could just practice as soon as he knew the theory, and he could probably do it that way with technically anything.

Along with Nezumi's mind, his hand wandered, too, seeking more of Shion's warmth before it fled the sheets completely. Finding not nearly enough anymore, his hand settles back on Shion's book, pads of his finger flipping through the corner of the pages. Nezumi's mind settles here, too.

Shion has tons of quirks but among those that intrigued Nezumi most was how, as he read along, Shion would unfold any dog ears Nezumi's left in the book from whenever long ago he'd read it. Nezumi adored these books but that didn't keep him from vandalizing them, folding pages to mark where he left off, or underlining or encircling or boxing lines he liked to revisit, writing his own footnotes wherever there was space. Shion, though, did none of that— he would turn these pages so gently that even the dust wouldn't shuffle. He wouldn't even use a bookmark, that boy, he would only memorize which page number he was last on, then pick it up from there next time.

If Shion had extra time, which he always seemed to have on top of meticulously washing Inukashi's rental dogs or shopping for bargains for low-tier groceries for him and Nezumi, he would sit down with his book and read, smooth out the old folds, fix up any tears with some clear tape, and remove those pencil markings while he was at it.

'I mark those for reference, you know,' Nezumi had confronted him once, recently, when he caught him fiddling gently with a worn copy of Tristan using an eraser. 'Well, if you ever need a line for anything,' Shion returned, airily tapping his temple with his pointer finger, 'It's in here now. You can just ask me.'

Nezumi remembers snorting to ask if he was showing off, so this is the brain of an elite, huh? But Shion only chalked it up to mental exercise, said that if he had the Correctional Facility floor plan with its numbers of steps and angles of exposure and vulnerability crammed on its own in his head, he would lose it. And besides, he's done all this since coming here to begin with, earnest in his quest to learn about Nezumi and take him in through these books. So it happened, that every book Shion touched, though visibly aged and still dust-laden, sat nearly as flat and bound to its spine as it was the day it was printed.

Nezumi straightens his back now.

He vaguely recounts his grandmother's words, 'Never sigh for anyone.' She also used to tell him all the time, that this chamber had everything he would ever need.

It was only after she was gone and he'd barely managed to get back here alive that he started to learn that they were loaded words— words that seemed to mean more than they did the last time he thought of them, each time he thought of them.

Not sighing for others meant fighting for himself and himself alone. It meant doing anything it took to keep himself alive, coming in and out of every ordeal with new ways to survive if only for another week longer, another day. Nezumi was to sink his teeth into his lip and silently prowl anywhere he can fit, steal from the unguarded but never take more than he needed.

And on days there was absolutely nothing to take from anywhere, places even his mice couldn't loot for the barest minimum, because that's just the kind of place the West Block is, he could retreat into this room.

This room, dark, quiet, and underground, was secure, a safe haven.

Not sighing for others meant crying for himself and himself alone. It meant doing anything it took to keep himself sane, and Nezumi, half-delirious from hunger and a fever, would reflect and realize that they were true, his grandmother's words: this place really did have everything he needed.

Here, he could pick a book, a story, a line to lose himself in, keep starvation at bay by occupying himself with all kinds of tales told on paper. Here, he could practice sighing and soughing, for those characters and their tragedies, but never still for anything or anyone else. Here, he would learn about the simplistic tendencies of the human, their sensibilities, their desires; Nezumi was to smirk and whisper, grant the weak-willed's wishes with choreographed sweet nothings.

And here, he would learn that which was his sure salvation from cold, hard poverty— Nezumi was to learn how to sing. How to let lyrics flow from his mouth and ride the wind that steals away suffering souls, and how to let scripts live through him to thieve the hearts of other humans by enchantment.

Nezumi was to never sigh again.

The thought came over him as he caught himself sitting motionless with baited breath— he was about to sigh again. He's lost count of how many times he's sighed in the last few months, lost count of how many times he's fought and cried but never just for himself or these stories.

Nezumi can't even remember the last book he finished. He had an extensive, unorganized reading list, and on his off-days from the playhouse he would lay in bed the entire time and bury himself in his mountains of books to read to his mice.

But now, distracting him from ever finishing another book, someone has stolen his attention— someone who took this place over by reading to the mice, organizing all the bookcases, making this bed every morning, keeping him warm.

Shion has been like the sun, full of light and life and warmth, and when Nezumi is with him he feels real, and alive— Living people sure are warm.

When they conversed, even when Nezumi had little to no idea where on earth Shion got what he's saying or how the hell he has the guts to be saying them at all— naive ideals, bare confessions, words of irrefutable hope and love— Nezumi felt real, and alive, so alive, that for the first time in his life he had more than himself and fiction to cling to.

Whether harsh debates or playful banter, it was accompanied by stale and moldy bread, meat a day away from rotting, water heated in an old kettle— and Macbeth soup, on relatively better days, like either of their paydays from giving dogs baths and putting on shows in the theater— and they've never quite felt like luxuries before, just the bare requirement not to starve to death or completely go insane. But that he had Shion's company over shamefully cheap dinner made him ignore orders from his grandmother never to sigh, and instead Nezumi would agree with her other words, with all his hesitant heart, that this chamber—

—these sheets, those shelves, this shitty place—

(—and those ignorant, innocent words, and that light that stubbornly, incessantly shone through— and Shion—)

—is all Nezumi would ever need.

And while during these days Nezumi experienced several episodes of emotional unrest, somehow he couldn't help thinking that these have been the most peaceful days of his life. Even if there were less air to breathe in this cramped vault, less room to move on this single-size bed, less surface area of this cheap blanket to put over his scrawny body, there was also less fuel and tinder used up to keep the kerosene heater lit, less nightmares or sleepless nights to be had, and less cold mornings to wake up to.

Life like this is comfortable.

That Shion would come back and slip under these sheets after fiddling and twiddling around those shelves to retire with him in this room— as has become routine— is comforting to Nezumi. Life like this, with Shion, is all Nezumi would ever need.

But the warmth that spreads through Nezumi's chest at the thought freezes over instantaneously, unnaturally; it becomes a sharp sensation stabbing at his lungs and his heart— these peaceful, comfortable days can't last.

These sheets, those shelves, and this shitty place—

—and Shion—

Nezumi suddenly feels uncertain if he's willing to wager all of this; it's the same feeling he got when he decided by himself to gather information how-many monthly paychecks' worth to get as far as he can without involving Shion and his reckless tendencies, the same feeling of grudge against salty tears forcing their way out of his eyes after clueless, inexperienced lips touched his for the very first time only to kiss him farewell, the same feeling when he held the trembling hand that struck his cheek and he had to swallow any doubts he had and keep them down, for his own sake and Shion's.

The Manhunt is going to happen soon, so soon Nezumi can feel it in his bones, and however much he wishes to deny that these past few day have felt like he was desperately living out the remainder of this peaceful, comfortable life, it doesn't matter. The reality of the situation is that this waiting it out is part of a plan.

Nezumi had come up with this plan— a plan with a chance at success so low that this risk shouldn't even be worth considering, even if they've maxed every factor on their side— but he had to continue keeping those doubts down, believe in his own plan, promise they would make things work out, to preserve Shion's sanity, keep his spirit alive, protect his smile.

Now isn't the time to waver.

Now isn't the time to waver, Nezumi knows, but even at present, on a nice, friendly night, he's beginning to yearn for these sheets, those shelves, this shitty place, and Shion—

"Sorry, it's not a tragedy this time. But did you hear that? Nezumi praised me."

It's hearing this gentle exchange that jolts Nezumi right out of his thoughts and back to reality; he's so startled by Hamlet's chirp and shuffling and Shion's voice that his heart feels like it's on the verge of bursting.

His hand comes up automatically to soothe his chest but when he sees Shion approaching with a copy of the Odyssey clasped tightly in his fingers, a victorious grin on his face, and the flickering orange tint of the heater in his translucent hair, Nezumi slides his hand further upward to hold his nape in an attempt at nonchalance, poorer than before all of these thoughts.

Shion glances at him and in his ears Nezumi can hear his heart drumming loudly and erratically to the sensation of his chest tightening, clenching, wrenching— unsoothed, because his palm has gone elsewhere, covering his vitals to make up for the fact that he'd been so disarmed he's left himself exposed again. He could swear Shion must have seen right through him.

But Shion is only cheerfully treading back towards the bed, and when he's seated on the edge of the mattress toeing off Nezumi's slippers, happily and jokingly mumbling "Even Hamlet couldn't believe that you were praising me," the fickle warmth within Nezumi's chest, or the loss of it, puts the thorns back in his next words:

"—Praise?" Nezumi just might have; following all the sentiment off the top of his mind just now up to this point, it felt safe to say that tonight was one of those nights that he, full from Macbeth soup, felt gracious enough to take the thorns out of his words to give Shion a real compliment. But when he thought about how this night could probably be their last together, even Nezumi can't fight the bitterness that makes him make haste of taking the praise back: "As if." He means to glare at Shion and his profile, but when he sees Shion turning to him he just rolls his eyes and they land on the flat, dusty copy of the Iliad by his hands. "You're just as good as Paris."

Shion is blindly pushing the slippers with his heels, fixing them in an orderly fashion against the edge of the bed next to his own shoes. He tilts his head, unfamiliar with the look he caught in Nezumi's gaze before he broke eye contact to click his tongue.

Shion revisits the words in his short-term memory, unsure of what to make of what Nezumi's just said. But, the tone of his comment was low like his usual scoffs, and the way Nezumi is averting his eyes makes Shion guess the words were meant to offend him, provoke him— yet he finds himself calm and unfazed, neither by Nezumi's words nor by his demeanor.

It would be a grave insult to Nezumi and his praise, whether he meant it or not, if Shion hasn't learned by now how to react, if he hasn't realized that Nezumi's words are never empty. And if he didn't understand them, Shion didn't have to pry or demand or throw some kind of tantrum— he just had to figure it out on his own. He's used to it.

Shion's learned as much in this room as Nezumi has. Perhaps even more.

Less a serious response to what Nezumi said than an offhand answer, he tilts his head, and speaks up amidst the strange tension hanging in the air, "Then you must be Helen?"

"The face that launched a thousand ships?" The delay in Shion's reply allowed Nezumi to regain his composure, and he's able to bring his hand away from his nape and to his chest, no longer aching, only the tips of his fingers touching the cloth of his shirt in a mock-timid gesture. He even manages a smile, sensual and pretty. "What a great compliment. That's so generous of you to say, your Majesty—"

"You know it, Nezumi," Shion interjects, eyes lowering for a moment to imagine touching those sensual lips with his, fleetingly, before looking right at Nezumi, "You could easily be the most beautiful—"

"Shion." Nezumi says this in a tone that warns Shion not to finish that sentence, not to finish that thought. This smile, one he reserved for seduction, worked to derail Shion, but all too well. It's no secret that Nezumi is attractive and that Shion is attracted to him, but if this carries on, Nezumi's not sure he can stay composed. His smile fades along with any emotion in his face and he continues, "Calling you as good as Paris wasn't a compliment."

Shion gets it. Nezumi doesn't want to hear it. He drops the need to tell Nezumi he's beautiful altogether, despite believing it to be the honest truth. He settles for a noncommittal reply instead, throwing in a shrug. "Didn't think much of it, so it's fine—"

"I'm telling you to think about it now, Shion." Nezumi picks up the book and hands it to him, lifting his facade to explain, "Paris could get the power to rule over a huge chunk of the world or the intelligence to fight and conquer any other place he wanted— but he chose a girl."

Shion takes the book and looks to the shelves, deciding by the cold floor and the slippers tucked under the bed that he'll put it back tomorrow. He tosses it gently to the bottom of the bed before pursing his lips as he looks Nezumi over again. "You... You're so cynical."

Nezumi snorts, "Great, what else is new—?"

"Paris didn't choose a girl over power and intelligence," Shion continues without missing a beat. "Simply put, wasn't he just not interested in what Athena and Hera had to offer? Aphrodite, on the other hand, didn't promise just a girl—"

"—the heck are you saying—"

"—Aphrodite promised him the love of the most beautiful mortal in the world."

Nezumi's eyebrows draw together and he finds himself scowling, "What did you say?"

"Paris chose love," Shion repeats, sounding like he had all the confidence in the world to be concluding such a cheesy speech. "Over power or intelligence, Paris chose love—"

"—And ended up waging war on all of Greece? Over such a pointless thing?" Nezumi could say a thousand things about how rotten and obsolete some values portrayed in literature are, especially in the classics, but he only scoffs: "Pretty dumb if you ask me—"

"It's not dumb—!" Shion starts to retort, but Nezumi snides,

"It is!"

Literature held tens and thousands of stories about humans making dumb decisions, and what good was literature if one didn't look past the entertainment it brought to learn from it? Especially in Nezumi's experience, from being smoked out like a literal rat out of his first home by greed-ridden intelligence and merciless power, to having to live in a literal dumpsite where people struggle everyday to make ends meet— Nezumi knew that it was human nature to just take and take and take, graciously receive anything offered to them that would benefit themselves, or seize that which isn't theirs by force if they were rapacious enough— at the very least No.6 was a prime example of this.

And then it hits Nezumi, the realization— it's right in front of him. In front of him is Shion, candid, altruistic, simple-minded Shion, who's barely made a dent in learning about the true, hideous nature of No.6— but for sure, for sure, Shion knows that if he had stayed on the other side of the wall, no, if he had never opened that window and taken Nezumi in, he would be well on his way to becoming the elite he was destined to be, apathetic and oblivious and uncaring but ultimately well-off, sleeping in a luxurious bed complete with plush pillows and duvets, reading and writing theses on ecology as his expertise without having to even lift a finger, and living in a completely technologically equipped mansion designed to give him the best life.

Despite all of that, Shion is right here, in front of him. On these thin, dirty, secondhand sheets, among those dusty, dilapidated, old-fashioned shelves, in this shoddy, dingy excuse of a room. Shion is right here because of him, because Shion was drawn— mind, body, and soul— to Nezumi.

"Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Someone who had immense power and intelligence for the taking..." The words steadily come forth from Nezumi's mouth lacking bite or any trace of derision. He just sounds like what he's stating is matter-of-fact, "...but he chose to run after love."

"Ah." Shion understands this fully well.

He always thinks about the what-if's of having never met Nezumi— when he can't sleep after Nezumi kicks him out of bed or hogs the blanket, when he zones out trying to pick something new to read from hundreds of choices without Nezumi's explicit review and recommendation, or when he's watching the kettle to keep the water warm while he waits for Nezumi to come home. This train of thought always goes through No.6 and living his successful and sheltered and boring life— but it eventually finds its way back to the West Block, living his inconvenient, danger-filled, heart-stopping life with Nezumi.

"So that's what you meant..."

"...That's how it is, isn't it." Nezumi lays back down, hair sprawling all over their pillow.

"Yeah." Shion feels like this should have hurt, like it always does when he has to question everything he ever thought he knew— But there's no questioning here, only a feeling in his core that he can't name, something reassuring.

Shion feels like Nezumi had finally acknowledged his feelings: yes, like Paris, Shion was ready to wage war against all of No.6, because over intelligence and power in that artificial paradise, that greedy parasite, Shion felt real and alive here, too. Shion had chosen these sheets, those shelves, and this shitty place; Shion had chosen Nezumi, and he had chosen love.

Oddly fully satisfied by what's just transpired, Shion takes a deep breath that thins out into a smile as he lays back down beside Nezumi, not before Nezumi can grab his own, unread book out of the way. "Well, sorry. I guess I'm just not as cynical as you. It can't be helped. Besides, at least for me, I know it'll all be worth it in the end."

Can it really not be helped? Nezumi could hear the self-assured smile in Shion's voice, and his first instinct is to attack him for saying such a naive thing— Shion doesn't know enough, he hasn't seen enough, hasn't read enough of this world to be saying he isn't a cynic. He doesn't have enough an idea of what's going to happen from here on out to be saying it was all worth it. In what end?

If the manhunt really happened tomorrow... would you still be able to smile and say that? Shion?

But Nezumi only returns to his earlier position when Shion had gone off to look for the Odyssey right after finishing the Iliad, facing the wall. He unconsciously sighs at the relief— Shion's warmth is reaching him again.

He thinks to tell Shion not to start another book when he hears him open to the first page of the Odyssey. If the Manhunt really happened tomorrow, he might never be able to come back to it.

Nezumi opens his book. The lines still don't register. He might never be able to come back to it, either. He wills himself not to think of it. He wills himself to say nothing more.

Tomorrow, Nezumi is going to have hogged the sheets again but Shion will make the bed nevertheless. Nezumi is going to ask about another title to try to read and Shion will guide him through the shelves using his mental catalog. They'll take turns reading their books to the mice, maybe dance again in this room before going out.

They won't know that it will be the last of these sheets, those shelves, and this shitty place that they'll ever see.

#no.6 #no. 6 #why am i only crossposting this a week-ish later? who knows #since receiving nice comments on ao3 i was encouraged to crosspost immediately like How It Should Be Done but like #aNYWAY here this is yay tis on my tumblr now #i hope its ok!!!#4 years later i still dont have a writing tag

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kamdynydma475-blog · 4 years ago

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bubble-tea-bunny · 7 years ago

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grease monkey

[dean winchester x reader]

author’s note: played around w/ tone shifts a lot in this one without really meaning to. i feel my writing’s sort of all over the place lately. i’ve been having a hard time focusing. anyway, i hope you enjoy. it’s been a minute since i wrote for dean haha

word count: 4,113

“Ah, shit.”

Dean huffs and checks the workbench again, moving supplies here and there in search for what he needs. He checks beneath the table, rifles through the cabinets, but still nothing. He glances back at Baby, whose hood is propped up and whose front wheels rest on ramps to elevate her. The old oil had already been drained but he’d failed to check beforehand if he had any new oil on hand, which he didn’t. So he can’t even install the new filter yet, which he did remember to buy on his last trip to the auto shop.

He grabs a towel to wipe down his hands and exits the garage, leaving the sleek Impala right where it is. He finds Sam in the kitchen working on lunch.

“Hey, I gotta run down to the car shop in town. Ran out of oil,” Dean begins. He glances at the various vegetables resting on the counter. Sam did have a penchant for running down to the farmers’ market whenever they weren’t busy with cases. For him, fresh produce is the best change of pace from the fast food they lived on when they weren’t at the bunker. “What are you making?”

“A veggie wrap,” Sam responds, and briefly there’s only the sound of his knife slicing through bell peppers. “You want one?”

Dean scrunches his nose. “No. Ew. I’ll pick something up on my way back.”

Sam rolls his eyes but he’s smiling a little. “Suit yourself.”

“Be back in a few.” Dean tosses his towel down on the dining table before he makes his leave, and Sam wants to yell after him, to tell him to take the dirtied rag to the garage where it belongs, and not leave it at the table where they eat, but he decides it isn’t worth the effort. Dean would keep walking.

It always feels strange not to drive Baby. The seats don’t feel the same and Dean has a hard time finding a comfortable position. When he slides the key into the ignition and twists it, the engine roars to life before settling into a steady purr, but it’s not as satisfying to hear. The drive into town doesn’t take too long. The roads are mostly empty until he actually gets there, and even then the auto shop is on the side of town closest to the bunker, so he gets there quickly.

The store is small and quiet, but it always has everything Dean needs. There are a few other people inside, some perusing the products, one speaking with the man at the register. Dean knows exactly where the oil is so he makes a beeline for the right aisle. A catalogue rests by the shelves of oil in case anyone coming in here is unsure of what sort of motor oil they need for their specific car’s make and model. He skirts past it—he has Baby’s brand memorized, knows it like the back of his hand.

While he’s scanning the names on all the bottles, in search of the appropriate one, the bell on top of the door jingles quietly. He glances up and sees easily from over the top of the shelves as you walk inside, hair tied into a sloppy ponytail. You wear a dark blue jumpsuit with the top half tied around your waist, revealing a gray tank top, black scuff marks and stains dotted over the fabric.

Dean tilts his head as he continues to watch you—you walk into an aisle two down from his, your eyes downcast on whatever rests there. You find what you need quickly and head for the door again. As you pass by the counter, you hold up what you’ve grabbed—a bottle of transmission fluid—and the man at the counter simply smiles and nods. Then you’re out the door, the bell dinging to signal your departure.

It’s only when an employee walks up to him does Dean realize he’d just been standing there staring at the door. “Did you need any help, sir?”

“Um, ah, no, I got it. Thanks.” Dean smiles politely and waves his hand dismissively. The employee smiles back and walks the rest of the way through the aisle to check on the other customers.

After the oil is paid for, Dean makes his way back to the car. He’s pulled the driver’s side door open and is about to get in when he slides his gaze over to the repair shop, where the garage doors have been pulled up and inside are multiple cars and multiple mechanics working on them. As if on cue you slide out from under one of the cars and stand up, wiping at the grime on your forehead. Your ponytail looks even more mussed up than it did when he saw you inside. He can’t hear anything from this distance but he can see you laugh at something that someone says. You must be new because he’s never seen you here before.

Sam’s migrated into the library and next to his laptop is an empty plate. He looks up when Dean saunters inside, a bag of take-out in one hand and a bottle of motor oil in the other. The younger Winchester sits up straighter and smiles in greeting.

“Got what you needed?”

“I did.” Dean plops down across from Sam and sets the motor oil on the floor next to him before he grabs his food. “I saw a cute girl today.”

Sam pauses in his typing and glances at his brother. “Did you?” He doesn’t ask for details because he knows Dean will follow up with them. Even if Sam didn’t want to hear it, Dean would elaborate anyway.

“Yeah, at the auto shop. She’s a mechanic.” Dean takes a big bite out of his burger.

“Wow.” Sam is impressed, for he doesn't recall ever seeing a female mechanic, but the expression of admiration is quickly wiped off his face and replaced with disgust when he sees the way Dean practically stuffs his mouth with food. “Dude, seriously?”

“What?” The word is almost impossible to understand as Dean speaks with a full mouth. “I’m hungry.”

———

The next day is much the same. Dean is in the garage again working on the Impala. They’d been out of town longer than usual for their last case, and it goes without saying that Baby got rather roughed up and was in dire need of all sorts of servicing when they came back. He’s mostly focusing on the interior today, wiping down dried blood and cleaning out shattered bits of glass from the broken backseat door windows (which he plans to work on next). All the while he’s muttering apologies for making his beloved car go through all this. Again.

“You can just never catch a break,” Dean says quietly as he stands up straight to stretch his back. He sets a hand on the roof of the Impala and sighs heavily, surveying the now clean flooring of the backseat. He drums his fingers on the smooth surface of the car as he glances at the workbench, which is much messier than yesterday, for he’d taken out more tools and supplies and had been much too tired last night to clean it up.

As he sifts through the plethora of items for what he needs next, a part of him hopes he’ll have run out of something, giving him the perfect excuse to go to the auto shop. It would be creepy if he just went there to watch you, and it’s not as if he has to take in any of the cars in the bunker to get worked on. He can do it all himself. Why would he spend money on that? But as he continues fixing up the Impala, he finds that he has everything he needed. Which is a bit of a bummer—well, okay, it’s a huge bummer. He’s not even sure the next time he’d have to go over there for more things. For all he knows, that could be after their next case. And who knows when that would be? Moreover, who knows how long they’d be gone for said case?

Well, he supposes he could just plan ahead. Stock up on items he anticipates will be running low the next time he’s servicing Baby. Before he can reconsider, Dean nods to himself, deciding this to be the next course of action. He closes the passenger side door with his hip as he wipes down his hands. This time he tosses the towel down on the workbench before he heads out of the garage to find Sam and let him know.

He doesn’t end up finding Sam anywhere within the bunker. It seems he’s taking his run a little bit later than usual today. Dean doesn’t bother leaving a note or sending off a text. It’s when he’s halfway to town that he gets a call. He doesn’t need to check the caller ID because he already knows who it is.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” Sam’s breathing on the other end is a little labored—he’d just gotten back.

“On my way to the car shop.”

“Weren’t you just there yesterday?”

“Picking up extra supplies for next time. That way I already have everything on hand.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “You just want to see that girl again, don’t you?”

Dean briefly considers lying, but he knows Sam will see right through it. “… Yeah.”

Sam laughs, and Dean can perfectly see in his mind’s eye his younger brother’s toothy grin. “Okay, well, have fun I guess.”

Dean pulls into a parking spot facing the garage but doesn’t see you. Maybe you had the day off? He sighs quietly, deflating a little at the thought, before getting out and heading inside the store. While he’s there, filling up a basket with various items, he’s listening for the jingle of the bell above the door. Whenever he hears it, he glances up, but is left disappointed because none of the newcomers are you.

The same man works at the register as yesterday. If he recognizes Dean, he doesn’t say anything about it. Dean is only half-paying attention when the employee asks if he found everything all right. He sort of just nods and gives a small courtesy smile, and he looks out the glass door as each of his items is rung up, hoping that maybe you’ll turn the corner and be walking inside. You don’t.

He carries both plastic bags in one hand and pushes the door open with his free hand. He’s fishing for the car keys in his pocket and thinking that it’s just his luck that you aren’t here today when he gives one more look toward the garage. Your sloppily done ponytail is hard to miss.

Without even realizing it he smiles a little to himself when he sees you. You’re reading something on a piece of paper, and after you do, you fold it up and tuck it into the pocket of your jumpsuit. A honk startles Dean and that’s when he notices he’d just stopped walking right in the middle of the lane. He waves to apologize as he quickly move off to the side and walks the rest of the way to his car. He sets down the bags on the floor of the passenger side before locking the car again and heading over to the garage.

He slows down as he approaches, eyes roving over the various cars being worked on, some elevated on jacks to give adequate room for getting to their undersides. There’s a radio by the wall playing songs he doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t really listen to the more recent releases. But the music is faint compared to the sound of animated chattering among the mechanics and the tools whirring to life.

“Were you here to pick up your car? You can head inside and let Jeremy know. He’s at the counter; he can ring you up.”

Dean tears his gaze away from the cars to see you walking up to him. You smile politely, and it reaches your eyes. Your cheeks are slightly flushed, which he suspects is due to the heat from inside the garage. Today you’re wearing your jumpsuit properly, but you have the sleeves pushed up. There’s a patch on the suit with your name on it: [Name].

“Oh, no, I’m not.” Dean chuckles nervously. “I just wanted to look. I work on my own cars too, so I like to watch sometimes.”

Your smile brightens. “Really?” Based on the tone of your voice, he knows you’re genuinely interested and not just saying this to be nice.

Dean’s smile is a little bit more relaxed at this, and he nods. “Yeah. It’s just a hobby though.”

“Well it’s a great hobby to have.” You brush back the loose strands of hair that had come out from your ponytail but they just fall back into place.

“I’m Dean.” The introduction is out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“[Name],” you respond.

“I know.” Dean quickly elaborates, lest you find him creepy. “It’s uh… It’s on your suit.” He points at the patch.

“Right.” It’s your turn to laugh nervously as you briefly look down at it. “I always forget that’s there.” You shrug, then take a deep breath and glance behind you. “I think I should be getting back to work. Still finishing up on one car and it’s getting picked up pretty soon.”

“Of course.” Dean waves his hand. “Sorry for distracting you.”

“Don’t apologize.” You shake your head. “I needed a little break.”

“It was nice to meet you.”

“You too, Dean.” Your smile is soft and Dean swears his heart squeezes at the sight of it.

He continues to stand there and watch as you walk away, and he notices that you’ve rolled up the legs of your jumpsuit a few times. They must’ve been too long for you. Before you resume working, you unzip the suit and shrug off the top half, tying the sleeves around your waist to let your body breathe a little better. Now that he thinks about it, he can feel some of the heat radiating from the garage.

Sam just about gets an earful about you once Dean returns to the bunker. The younger Winchester can’t help but watch on amusedly because Dean is never like this. It’s honestly a little strange, and he almost wants to ask (in jest of course): “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

“I mean, my heart started hurting, Sammy. What the hell?” Dean throws his arms up in confusion as he sits back in the chair.

“You sure that isn’t just all the greasy food finally catching up to you?” Sam raises a brow.

Dean looks thoroughly unamused at the joke. He reaches out for his beer sitting on the table and takes a long swig from the bottle. “I don’t like feeling this way, man. It’s bizarre and I feel like I’m in freaking high school!”

Sam laughs. “You’re telling me. It’s weird seeing you like this.” Dean doesn’t reply and he’s staring off to the side at nothing in particular, but Sam can see the cogs spinning in his head. “You’re gonna go back to the shop again, aren’t you?”

Dean gives him a side glance and delays his response by taking another sip of his drink. And then: “You bet I am.” Sam didn’t expect anything different.

———

The next time Dean visits the auto shop, he takes Baby. She’s been fully repaired and looks good as new. It’s like a breath of fresh air when he’s back on the road with her. He drives with the windows down because the weather is so nice.

He pulls up in a spot close to the garage and sees you right away. “[Name]!”

You look away from surveying one of the elevated cars and your eyes light up when you see him. Well, at this distance, he’s not sure if it’s because you see him or because you see his car. “Dean!” You walk up to him with a bright smile. “Nice car.”

“A ’67 Impala,” he tells you as he sets his hand on the hood of the car, which is still warm. “She’s my baby.”

“I bet. She’s beautiful.” You circle the car slowly, studying every little sleek detail. Dean feels pride swell in his chest. You gently set your hands on the hood of the car to brace yourself as you bend over to glance inside at the interior, and he tries his hardest not to stare at your ass (he fails). “You work on her yourself?”

“Yep.” Dean nods. “Everything.”

You stand back up straight and turn to face him, smiling. “Well clearly she’s in good hands. She looks great.”

Dean takes your comment to heart and his smile is genuinely thankful. Before he can say anything, you speak up again.

“It feels like you were just here. Run out of supplies already?” You cross your arms and rest your weight on one foot, your hip jutting out. This question could be taken as something you’re genuinely wondering, but your tone is playful and the glint in your eyes is teasing, which effectively negates that assumption.

Dean chuckles and momentarily looks away, at a car parked across the lot. He didn’t plan on lying about his reason for being here. Even if he did, he’s sure you’d know it wasn't the truth. Usually he wouldn’t be this nervous—he’s always been up-front. What did you do to him?

He shrugs and meets your eyes again. “No, actually… I came here to see you.”

Your smile widens. “I’m flattered. I’m hardly a sight for sore eyes when I’ve been in the garage all day,” you joke.

“I dunno, I guess I have a thing for girls that have messy hair and work on cars.”

At the mention of your hair you reach up to feel your bun, making sure it’s still sitting securely on your head. It’s nowhere near perfect. It had been done hastily and without a mirror, but how it looks doesn’t matter if you’re beneath a car. “And how many girls have you met like that?”

“You’re the first.”

You laugh shyly and your gaze briefly drops down to the ground. “Good.” You look back up at him. “I like to be unique.” It’s a statement that’s half a joke and half sincere.

Dean smiles back warmly and he’s quiet for a moment. Then he asks: “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“I am.” You stand a little straighter at this question because you know where it’s headed. You’re wrenching your hands behind your back.

“Do you maybe wanna grab dinner together or something?”

You smile and hope it’s not too wide, which would betray your excitement. “That sounds great.”

You give him your number before you’re pulled back into work. If you lingered any longer you might get in trouble. Dean can’t stop smiling the whole drive home. He’s already eager to see you again. It feels like tomorrow night is so far away. He hopes there aren’t any cases that pop up before then. But knowing him and his luck, there just might be. He tries not to let it deter him, because—

“I got a date with her, Sammy!” Dean exclaims as he enters the library.

Sam pauses his Netflix show and looks up. “You did?”

“Hell yeah I did!” Dean pulls back a chair and sits down. “I swear there better not be any cases that come up before tomorrow night.”

“I think you’ll be fine.” Sam smiles reassuringly.

“I hope so.” Dean instinctively reaches toward the table for his beer then remembers he hadn’t grabbed one from the refrigerator. With a sigh, he hefts himself up and sets out for the kitchen just as Sam hits play and returns to his show.

———

Dean picks you up.

When you open the door, it’s almost like he’s looking at a completely different person. Your hair is neater, no longer tangled and messy but combed out and resting in soft waves on your shoulders. You’re wearing makeup—not much, but it’s still more than he’s used to seeing on you, since you never wear any when you work. You’ve swapped your jumpsuit for a floral dress. But your smile is still the same, and it’s what brings everything together.

He tells you that you look amazing. It’s the first thing out of his mouth. And it’s not something he says just to be nice. He truly means it. You can sense this, and your smile is shy as you say thanks. The two of you decide on heading to the mom and pop diner not far from your house. Neither of you is interested in anything fancy, and this place had a reputation for having some great pancakes. On the drive over, you run your hands over the leather seats, over the dashboard. You’re so enamored with everything and it makes Dean chuckle. No one else gets this excited about Baby.

As the two of you talk in the corner booth Dean can feel himself falling in love little by little. It’s so cliché he almost wants to gag. He wonders what Sam would make of it all, because this? Diner dates, being thoroughly interested in getting to know you, hanging onto every word you say? When was the last time he’d felt this way about anyone? When had he last taken his time like this? With the sort of lives they lead, it’s almost impossible to. They never stick around anywhere for very long, always on the move. But Lebanon, it’s basically home base. It’s the perfect coincidence to have found you here, of all places.

The waitress gives you free milkshakes, for she clearly noticed you were on a date and wanted to give the two of you a little treat. Dean drinks his rather quickly, but you end up pouring yours into a to-go cup since you’re too full to finish it while you’re still at the diner. (Later on he learns this is how you are with all your drinks. He ends up finishing a lot of them for you.)

He kisses you in the Impala. You taste like sugar despite the milkshake being advertised as strawberry-flavored, but he's not surprised. Those drinks are pretty much just liquid sugar. The radio is on low volume and the only light shining into the car is from the street lamp in front of your house and Dean briefly thinks—wow, it really is like he’s some kid in high school, down to the warmth in his chest as he acclimates himself to the softness of your lips. He doesn’t linger on the thought for long, however. You’re much more important right now.

———

When Dean arrives back at the bunker, he doesn’t need to say anything for Sam to figure out that the date had been successful. It’s difficult for Dean to hide the excitement on his face.

Sam still stands by his statement that Dean being like this is weird—really weird—but it’s not unwelcome. Their lives are rough, and you’re the diamond in it. It feels like so long since he’s seen Dean this happy. And it’s not until now, when it’s happening, that he realizes how much he’s missed it.

It’s late when Dean finally settles into bed for the night. He lays on his back, blood rushing to his head as he stares at the ceiling. He feels light as air as he reflects on the events of the evening. For all his run of bad luck, meeting you is, in contrast, the best stroke of luck he’s had—that he thinks he’ll ever have.

As he falls asleep to the thought of your warm smile and gentle eyes and soft voice, he realizes how special you are, how much you mean to him now and how much more you’ll mean to him as time goes on. He never really considered that there might be room in his life for something like this, but before he could fully process what was happening, you’d found your way into it, settled into your own spot and made yourself comfortable. For an inkling of a second he swears it’s like you were always meant to be there, filling in the holes of all the things he’s ever lost. You will never truly know just how special you are to him, and it breaks his heart.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #supernatural #bubble-tea-bunny

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vainavitechnologies-blog · 5 years ago

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Are TikTok Ads Right for Your Business?

With more than 500 million active users worldwide, TikTok presents an enormous opportunity to advertisers. Not only has TikTok surpassed Twitter and Snapchat in popularity but it’s also less saturated with ads than its older counterparts. The visual app—which allows users to edit and share 15-second videos with built-in filters, effects, and music—has truly shaken up the marketing world with its unprecedented virality.

In early 2019, the app launched a beta version of its ads offering. Since then, big names like Grubhub, Nike, Fenty Beauty, and Apple Music have used TikTok ads to promote products in unique, visually compelling campaigns. With advanced targeting and unique ad creation features, the TikTok Ads platform is unlike many of its predecessors. When used effectively, it can help you tap into one of the most lucrative pools of users.

However, not every business is positioned to benefit from TikTok’s unique offering. Before investing your time and effort into TikTok advertising, here are two questions you need to ask yourself to determine if this ad platform is right for your business.

What Is the Target Demographic for Your Business?

If younger people are one of the primary audiences for your business, TikTok ads could be a worthwhile investment for you. With 66% of TikTok’s users younger than 30 (41% are ages 16–24), this isn’t the right platform for businesses that cater to older audiences.

To visualize this, a significant number of trending videos on TikTok relate to youth-oriented topics, such as school and homework.

However, it’s worth noting that while TikTok’s current audience is predominantly young, social networks do tend to be adopted by younger audiences first, and then make their mark on older demographics. So it might still be worthwhile to learn more about the platform to stay ahead of the curve, even if TikTok isn’t the right fit for your business at this stage

Do You Have the Budget to Advertise on TikTok?

While larger businesses like Nike, Disney, and Grubhub have swiftly taken to advertising on TikTok to drive huge impressions, TikTok ads might be less affordable for smaller businesses.

Because ads on the platform are new and rare, they come at premium costs that start at an average of $10 per CPM and can go up to $300,000 total budget for larger campaigns. Moreover, TikTok campaigns require a minimum investment of $500 so they might not be a great fit for your business if you’re looking for more affordable and predictable advertising options.

If you decide TikTok ads are a worthy investment for your business, here’s how to get started.

#1: Create a TikTok Ads Account

To create your first ad campaign, visit the TikTok Ads home page and click on the Create an Ad button.Because TikTok Ads is still in beta, the process of setting up ads isn’t entirely online yet. When you click the button, a form pops up requesting details to set up your account. After you submit this information, a representative will get in touch with you to set up your TikTok Ads account.It can take up to 48 hours to receive your account. Once you do, the process for creating ads is relatively straightforward.

#2: Create a TikTok Ad Campaign

In the TikTok Ads dashboard, click the Campaign tab at the top of the page and then click the Create button. Next, choose a campaign objective, which is the primary goal of your ad. As of this writing, you can choose from three options: Traffic, Conversions, and App Install. To set your budget at the campaign level, select either the Daily Budget or Total Budget option under Settings. Note that both the daily budget and total budget must be at least $500.

#3: Set Your TikTok Ad Placements, Details, and Targeting

The next step is to create an ad group for your campaign and choose your placements and targeting.

One of the most useful features of the TikTok Ads dashboard is that it lets you select the exact platforms you’d like to run your ads on. These include not only TikTok but also its entire family of apps like Vigo Video (India only), BuzzVideo, News Republic, and others.

There’s also an option for automatic placements, where TikTok determines where your ad would perform best and places it there.Once you’ve selected your preferred placements, follow the prompts to enter all of the details necessary to start running your ad, including any relevant URLs, display names, images, and categories. You can also select up to 20 keywords to describe your website or app, which will then be used to match your products with the right audience.The Targeting section lets you define the target audience for your ads. Set parameters for location, age, gender, languages, interests, devices, and more to attract the right audience for your ads. If you have a specific group of people in mind to target on TikTok, you can create a custom audience by uploading the IDs of existing TikTok users. Simply upload the IDs as a CSV, TXT, or ZIP file.

#4: Control Your TikTok Ad Spend, Duration, and Goals

Now you’re ready to choose a budget, schedule, and goal for your TikTok ads.

Set a Budget and Schedule

In the Budget & Schedule section, set the budget for the ad group. You can choose either a daily budget (the amount you’re willing to spend each day) or a total budget (the total amount you’re willing to spend for the duration of the schedule). Note that there’s a $50 minimum for the daily budget and total budget at the ad group level. Editor’s Note: At the time of this writing, the minimum daily budget at the ad group level was quoted as $50 USD (as shown in the screenshot below). Current help files for TikTok Ads now quote the minimum daily budget at the ad group level as $20 USD.

Also choose the scheduled duration for your ads. Dayparting allows you to select specific times of the day or week on which to run your ad.

Choose a Pacing Option

Next, set the pacing of your budget, which determines the speed at which your budget will be spent. The Standard delivery option spaces out your budget evenly across the duration of the campaign, while the Accelerate option spends the budget as fast as possible during the scheduled time.

Select Your Optimization Goal

Your optimization goal reflects the key metric you’re hoping to achieve with your campaign. You can choose to optimize your ad group for Conversion, Click, or Impression and your bidding will be optimized based on the goal you select.

If you choose Conversion as your goal, your ad will be served to the people who are most likely to convert for your product or service. To track all of the actions that signify a conversion (for instance, app downloads or form submissions), create conversion events by clicking Library and selecting Conversions.

From here, decide whether you want to set up conversion tracking for app installs or certain elements of your landing page via pixel.

To create an app install conversion, type in a name for your conversion event, enter the link to your app in Google Play or the App Store, and select a tracking partner to start measuring conversions from your ad.Conversion goals are priced using the oCPC (optimization cost per click) bidding method, which ensures your ads will be displayed to the users who are most likely to perform your expected actions. With oCPC, you bid on the individual conversion cost you expect, but then pay by CPC (cost per click). TikTok Ads automatically adjusts bids based on your bid settings, drawing the cost of your campaign close to your target price.If you select Click as the overarching goal for your ad group, you’ll be billed on a CPC basis, with your ad being optimized to drive as many clicks as possible.Finally, if you set Impression as your goal, your ad will be billed on a CPM (cost per mille) basis, which denotes the price of a thousand impressions.

Turn Smart Optimization On or Off

TikTok offers an option called Smart Optimization, and if it’s enabled, your bidding will be constantly adjusted and optimized to increase conversions. If you choose Click or Impression as your goal, it’s best to switch off Smart Optimization.

#5: Design Your Ad Using TikTok’s Video Creation Kit

When it comes to designing the creative assets for your ad, the process is fairly straightforward. TikTok ads can be horizontal, vertical, or square videos and images. The best thing about the ads platform is a tool called the Video Creation Kit, which provides video and image templates you customize using your existing images. It also comes with 300+ options for free background music.

TikTok currently allows the following ad types: brand takeovers, in-feed ads, and hashtag challenges.

Brand Takeovers

A brand takeover ad will appear instantly when a user opens TikTok. The ad can then be redirected to an internal or external link—either another video on TikTok or an external website or app. Currently, this ad type is limited to one advertiser per day.

In-Feed Ads

In-feed ads are native ads placed either at the bottom of organic TikTok videos or in the feed as part of the video queue, depending on the type of product. These ads also redirect to your website or app. On average, they cost $10 per CPM, making them a more affordable option than brand takeovers.

Hashtag Challenges

You can partner with TikTok’s marketing team to create a sponsored hashtag challenge that encourages users to share content on TikTok on your brand’s behalf. Challenges generally last for 6 days.

#6: Optimize Your TikTok Ad

When creating a brand takeover or in-app display ad, ensure you use high-resolution images because the ad’s visuals will take over the user’s entire screen and be highly visible.

Focus on only one call to action (CTA) to make the most of your redirect link. To illustrate, if you ask users to download your app and access a coupon code through your website, you might confuse some viewers by redirecting them to your app’s download screen.

For the ad copy, note that TikTok ads provide very little space to explain anything with words. Ad descriptions are limited to 80 English characters so if you’re selling a more complex product or service, incorporate words into your display creative using the Video Creation Kit.

Because all ad descriptions appear at the bottom of the screen, be sure to place your key creative elements in the middle of the screen to avoid congestion.

As with most ad formats, it’s best to experiment with a range of targeting options and creative elements before narrowing your ad down to the most successful combinations of elements.

Pro Tip: In addition to the Video Creation Kit, take advantage of the other built-in ad tools. At the ad group level, the Automated Creative Optimization tool (shown in action below) lets you upload up to 10 images or 5 videos, 5 ad texts, and 1 CTA and will then combine your creative assets into multiple ads. It will test a variety of these ads throughout your campaign and ultimately present the best possible combination to your target audience. The Landing Page to Video tool will capture high-quality image material from any landing page URL you feed into it and then combine these images with music to automatically generate video ads.

Conclusion

Thanks to a comprehensive offering of design and automation tools, TikTok ads are easy to set up and master. As it stands, the most challenging aspect of advertising on the platform seems to be the lack of guidance available due to how new the platform is. The step-by-step guide above will help you navigate the interface and get up and running in no time.

Vainavi Technologies is an Nashik, India based company that provides SEO Services, Website Design, Web Development, Pay Per Click & EMail Marketing. Email: [email protected] or drop a message, we will get back to you!