#can’t sleep tired can’t write essays

[ego-sum-arbor]

Y’all I am so tired and mad abt it

[spacespore]

Blegh! I’m so tired. I’m falling asleep while trying to my homework this is a total problem!!!! I even drank an energy drink but I’m still tired idk what to do!!!!!!!

[sparfloxacin]

hi, your Olli/Allu delivery is here!! 🥰💕

AAAAAAA thank you!! 😭💕

aren’t they the cutest, I wonder what Olli is thinking about 🥺 💗

[bugunlikeanangel]

googles “is it normal to feel like you’re tricking people into thinking there’s something inside you when you’re actually completely hollow - empty - on the inside and you feel like if they get any closer they’re going to find out”

[crushribbons]

𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉𝖎𝖊, 𝖕𝖙. 𝖎𝖛

summary: Sebastian Sallow might be more stubborn than he is curious. (series masterlist)

cw: 3.6k words, light fluff, very suggestive content (18+ ONLY), brief male masturbation, alcohol ment, soooort of dubcon but quickly-established consent, god when will this thing end, probably never, fem reader/oc. requests.

a/n: y'all ever heard of this word, pentalogy? hmm xx laney

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, babbling under her breath like a madman as she yanked a brush through her hair and stared at her tired and bloodshot reflection in the mirror. “Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t do anything.” In desperation, she replaced the hairbrush with her wand and pointed it at her head. Nothing happened. She wasn’t sure she had expected anything to.

You know whose hair looked wild, as well? mused a very unwelcome voice inside her head. Sebastian’s, in that dream you had. She considered keeping the wand pointed at her head and igniting it if the voice kept up.

With a groan, she gave up on her appearance altogether and looked over toward her dormitory door. Dread clawed up her throat and her heart beat unnaturally fast as she considered the prospect of going to Hogsmeade with Sebastian, as he’d asked her that morning.

“Come on, I haven’t been in ages.”

“You were there on Tuesday.”

“Not with you,” he crooned, and any pretense of annoyance slipped away from her. “Come on, beautiful day for a stroll.” She felt like a weak little lamb that Sebastian had grabbed ahold of with his wolfish teeth. 

She dangled, pathetic and miserable, from his mouth the entire walk to Hogsmeade. He was still none the wiser to her distress (or he was choosing to ignore it), chatting ad nauseam about the skirmish that had broken out in the Slytherin common room that morning. She didn’t catch a single word. Her hair was still frizzing out at her temples and getting caught in her lips as she walked, and she thought she might explode with frustration if she had to be around him for one more minute.

Dreams were usually a very viscous liquid, draining through her memory the second she woke up and tried to recall any details. So why was this particular one, this particularly Sallow-centric dream, etched so deep into her psyche? In the three days since her subconscious had betrayed her and showed her what a potential animal Sebastian could be in bed, her thoughts had been consumed by little else. She was sure all of her dreams from this point on would feature his naked and sweaty form again, so she was careful to sleep in short, awful bursts that did nothing to rejuvenate her for the following day. Maybe she was just losing her mind.

The slightest motion on his part was sending her into a tizzy. In the library yesterday, a huge waft of dust had hit him in the face when he pulled it off a shelf, and he had sneezed three times in rapid succession and yelled, “GOD!” Madam Scribner had been upon him in an instant with a swift whack to his unkempt head, but all his poor classmate could do was clutch the bottom of her skirt and whimper that she needed to step out for a moment. Everything was like this; a tap on her shoulder to get her attention at dinner, a wistful sigh as he gazed out the window and fantasized about never writing another essay ever again, everything was affecting her body more than it ever had. Her silly crush on Sebastian had snowballed, no, avalanched into something unholy that had her completely at the mercy of its icy grip. 

And she was fairly certain he knew it, too.

Their flirtations and awkward exchanges since the now infamous “towel incident” (Imelda, after overhearing Sebastian and Ominis whispering on the topic, had taken it upon herself to disseminate the rumor among their class that the towel had actually fallen to the ground) had felt harmless until recently. Now, she could swear that he was torturing her on purpose. He pouted when she spent time with anyone other than him and kept saving a plate of dessert for her every day at dinner. Last night, he’d even muttered, “If this makes you any sweeter, I'll start losing my teeth,” in her ear while he passed her a piece of chocolate cake. She’d been so goddamned wet by the time she’d managed to choke down enough to satisfy him that she was done, it was humiliating. 

Sebastian’s pinky brushed against hers, and she jumped out of her skin. “What?!” she shouted, jostled out of her sordid imagination by the very man she was imagining. His eyebrows rose.

“I said, let me hold your hand, it’s cold today,” he ordered, and without waiting for her to acquiesce, he laced his fingers between hers and she thought that might be the end of her. His warm hand dwarfed hers completely, long fingers that she could picture all-too-vividly twisting in and out of her cunt trapping her to his side. It was mid-April, and the sun was beating down on them. Desperate, she searched for anything normal to say.

“Does that line work often, Sallow?” she said, but there was none of the usual fight in her voice. It was deflated, a leaky balloon holding on for dear life to its last bit of air. 

He grinned, his shining canines exposed. “It works when I need it to.” Her stomach flipped. The pent-up energy inside her was making her hands shake, and she prayed he didn’t notice.

They walked, hand-in-hand, the rest of the way to Hogsmeade while Sebastian continued rattling off the professional Quidditch teams he was confident he could coach better than their current managers and she stared at the ground. Every so often, they would come across a piece of moonstone, and she would absently cast at it with her wand. He never dropped her hand. 

Part of her wondered, Why are we doing this dance? Why aren’t we talking about any of this? Why are we bothering? He wants me, I want him! End this! 

The other part of her was as stubborn as Sebastian was.

She was so sick of this. Sick of feeling so stupid and lovelorn and driven to the breaking point by a boy whom, until about a month ago, she’d never thought of in any romantic capacity. No sleep, no peace from her own mind, it was really making her sick.

Something in her spine clicked and made her suddenly stand up straighter. Enough of this. If he was so keen to torture her senseless instead of just admitting that something was happening between them, then maybe she would be, too.

“Ugh, this walk is so long,” she sighed the next time there was a lull in the conversation. Sebastian hummed. “Can’t you just pick me up and fly me there, birdie?”

Ooh, but she’d seen less damage taken when someone got hit in the chest with depulso during dueling club. A delighted little thrill charged through her as she watched him twitch and stammer and squeeze her hand nervously. It was like he knew that she’d moaned the nickname out in the throes of subconscious passion. When he wasn’t able to form any sort of retort, she pressed on, starting to feel giddy.

“Come on, you’ve got these big, strong wings.” She dropped his hand and moved to stand behind him. Sebastian tripped over his own feet, and she placed her hands on his back and slid them up to his shoulders, then down the length of his arms. He was stiff, frozen solid in the middle of the dirt road. A patch of daffodils honked softly to their left. God, she was supposed to be taking back the power in this battle of the sexes, so why were her knees turning to goo as she ran her hands over his arms and lifted them from his sides in a little flapping motion? He was so fucking warm and tall. He’d left his robes back at the castle, so the only thing hiding his frame was his school uniform, the green plaid wrapping around every inch and she wanted nothing more than to tear it away. The unbidden image of him in the towel smirked at her, and she dropped his arms back down. “Let’s just pick up the pace a little,” she said meekly.

Sebastian said something unintelligible and nodded, and they walked the rest of the way to Hogsmeade in complete silence, both of their hands firmly inside their pockets. As they crossed the bridge into the hamlet, the smells and sounds floating towards them made their moods rise quite a bit, and Sebastian was his usual smiling self in no time. A fellow seventh-year waved at them as they passed and informed them that Honeydukes was putting on its end-of-term sale. They tried hard to keep their pace as they made their way to the candy store at a light jog. 

“Fuck,” Sebastian groaned five minutes later around a mouthful of fudge, and she screwed up her face in disgust picking daintily at the small bun she’d opted for. Her stomach hadn’t stopped feeling strange. Especially due to the fact that her friend’s mouth was smeared with white chocolate and peanut butter and she still wanted to kiss it more than she could verbalize. 

As much as she was loath to admit it, the day was wonderful. A bright and clear Saturday afternoon with a boy who seemed determined to keep a smile on her face at all times. They ran through the village, stopping at every store to ogle the window displays and point out what they would get if they had a million galleons. Sebastian would get the newest model of broom that Albie Weekes had just stocked (a surprise to no one), and she decided she would buy every last wand that the old and wizened Mr. Ollivander had to offer. 

Sebastian laughed as she handed him the cloud of pink candy floss they were taking turns tearing chunks off of. “Wands?! Why the hell would you buy a bunch of wands?” She scooted closer to him on the bench they sat on so their legs were touching. 

“More wands means more power, right?” She mimicked casting with several different wands at the same time. “I’d be unstoppable. Ranrok wouldn’t have even come near the witch with six-hundred and fifty wands.” He cackled, his face red when he finally came back up for air. His laugh made him so beautiful.

“God, I love the way your mind works! Oh, to sneak in there for just a day.” You’ve actually made permanent residence there, she thought as she watched him examine the enormous haul he’d bought from Honeydukes. 

Stupid, God, you fucking idiot! “Oh, to sneak in there…” Do you want to just give yourself up?! Shut up, Sallow, and maybe you won’t completely bugger this to hell. 

She wished she could read minds. The Hogsmeade square, which had been bustling during the day, was gradually emptying as the sun began to set. She ran her gaze over the shops and homes that were closing their shutters for the evening. Only the Three Broomsticks seemed to really hop after sundown, witches and wizards pouring in to have a butterbeer poured out after a long day of working. Sebastian was a chatty drunk, even more talkative than he was on the average day. He’d tell any stranger his darkest secrets with little to no hesitation. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

“Fancy a drink before we head back?”

They went butterbeer for butterbeer, shot of firewhiskey for shot of firewhiskey, until she realized with a sudden jolt that she was teetering on the edge of very drunk, and that she wouldn’t be any good at extracting an admission of longing from him if she couldn’t form a coherent thought. When he raised his next shot glass to his mouth and tilted his head back, she tossed the contents of hers onto the ground and vanished it with a whisper, her wand poking out discreetly from her lap. Sebastian slammed the glass back down on the table and winced, rolling his neck on his shoulders. “Felt that one here,” he said with a slight slur, and pointed at his back molars. 

“Ick, yeah,” she agreed. Time to deploy the not-so-secret weapon. “So, my little birdie,” she began, bumping his leg under the table with her foot. His pretty nose went bright red. Wonderful. She leaned across the table with her arms crossed. Sebastian’s eyes were shamelessly raking across her chest, as if he was hoping to remove the collared shirt covering it with some psychic power. It was sad, really, how easy this was going to be.

The light din from the other patrons in the bar seemed to soften as they stared into each other’s eyes. Firelight shadows cast from the hearth were casting his clear, greeny hazel gaze golden, and she pressed her thighs together, in spite of herself. “Y-yeah?” he asked. She almost felt bad, with how helpless and devoted to her he looked right now. Almost.

“Tell me. Have you made any…romantic conquests lately? Surely, the great and delicious Sebastian Sallow does not intend to graduate without the company of a fair maiden to look forward to.”

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck, she knows. But how on earth would she–Christ, I’m drunk–how could she know, I was so careful, well, not really, but–fuck, she’s still talking. Look at her face, her face, you idiot, not her tits. I don’t care if she undoes twenty more buttons, just look at her face. Shit, her face is just as fucking perfect.

“You’re squirming, baby bird! You are after someone–who is it?” She couldn’t have kept the grin off her face if she had tried to. “Come now, tell me!” Sebastian looked like he might vomit. He dug his hands into his hair and whimpered, and she knew she had won. She pulled her stool around the table until their legs were pressed together once more. His head was in his hands, elbows on the table, and he was pressing his lips together like something dangerous would slip out if he didn’t. His usual smug, self-assured demeanor a distant memory, she found herself pressing herself against the chair and circling her hips lightly, desperate for this tension to just end.

“I think I know who it is.” She let her lips brush against his ear while she whispered it, her hand resting on his back as she leaned into him. He went rigid under her touch again.

“M’sorry,” he moaned, still hiding his face from her. 

“Oh, why are you sorry, baby?” she cooed. All posturing was gone. She was practically in his lap as she circled a lock of his chestnut hair in her fingers with absent-minded dexterity. It felt just as it had in the dream, just as soft and tuggable. His hands, not of his own accord, had begun sliding up her thighs. Her cunt practically begged for him, responsive to every one of his touches. He finally managed to look at her, and the mixture of pure lust and shame on his face made her want to push him down and take him right there, in front of all of the Three Broomsticks and God. The alcohol was searing courage into her entire being.

The two friends, although no one who observed them would have used that word to describe the two people groping at each other in a secluded corner of a bar, continued sizing each other up as they considered their next moves. Sebastian grasped at words. “I-I–I did something bad,” he eventually choked out, and she hummed in appreciation. “Awful.”

“And what did you do that was so horrible?” she murmured, fingers still tangled in his hair. He was going to admit it, admit that he’d been just as fucked up by the sight of her half-naked as she had been by him. That the visions and dreams and fantasies hadn’t stopped for even a second since, and that he was desperate to end this teasing and screw her stupid. Hell, she’d even respond in kind if she could just get him to say it first…

“I…” He bit his lip, and she almost came at the sight. She was sure that he could notice her grinding, both on the stool and as much of his leg as she could reasonably position herself against. Maybe courage wasn’t the only thing the alcohol was setting off inside her. But she would have made more of an effort to pull herself together if Sebastian hadn’t been fisting the lap of his trousers for the past twenty minutes, wrestling with an erection that seemed to be striking him dumb. Her hand slid down from his hair and palmed him over his pants, and his mouth dropped into a sweet, little “o” after a silky, “Shit, oh, shit,” leaked from it. 

“Are you too drunk?” she muttered, and he shook his head emphatically and walked his fingers across the table in a straight line with a dazed expression, making her snort. He asked in a hoarse croak if she was, and she shook her head also. His cock was so hard in her hand that she mewled a little as she stroked it, friction from the rough fabric making Seb pant and grit his teeth. She could tell he was big; in fact, he felt just as thick and long as he had when she’d dreamt of him railing her just a few nights ago. The firewhiskey still dancing around her tongue asked her if she shouldn’t tell Sebastian about the dream, right now. He’d probably cum in his pants if he ever knew, she thought with a happy and tipsy little giggle. She stopped giggling when he dropped his head into the crook of her shoulder and whined into it,

“I just, fuck, I want y–”

“Sorry, folks. It’s about that time for last call. Gonna be closing up soon.” Sirona Ryan’s voice carried over to them, and they sprang apart from each other. Their stools rocked backward with the sudden jumps, and they quickly rose to their feet, brushing off their laps like they’d just shared a very average dinner. They did not look at each other as they swept past the bar. With two feeble mumbles of thanks to Sirona, they were back on the street. 

She had done something horrible, she decided, something truly abhorrent in a past life to deserve this brand of torture in this one. Sebastian turned to face her, looking as strung out as she felt. “Look,” he began. Patrons were filing out the pub’s door behind them, paying no attention to the two students standing beside the door. The air had a sharp chill to it now that the sun had set, and she sheepishly wished that he would offer to take her hand now. Sober clarity was wiping the sweet fog of butterbeer away in her mind. It seemed Sebastian was experiencing the same.

“Let me just say this while I can still blame it on being drunk,” he said, although the slur was gone from his voice. He sounded like his old self. Like good, old, sweet, messy, rambling, whip-smart Sebastian Sallow. She watched him lean back against the wall and wondered if she loved him. He looked up at the sky, glittering diamond stars studding the velvet black. “I’ve been, sort of…I guess…I’ve had, well–um…”

“Seb,” she whispered, closing the distance between them until their hands were interlocked and their noses were centimeters apart. They looked in each other’s eyes, then at each other’s lips, then back to the eyes. Time had stopped, and he was going to kiss her, and then they were going to sprint back to the castle and rip each other’s clothes off. His nose bumped hers and he used it to knock her head back, just a bit, so their mouths slotted together and she shut her eyes. It wasn’t kissing, not yet, but it was something soft that fucked with her head just that little bit more. “Just…say it,” she ordered quietly. 

But a level-headed Sebastian wasn’t just less suggestible; a level-headed Sebastian would move heaven and earth to play the devil’s advocate.

She felt his mouth crease into a frown and opened her eyes to see that his brow was low. For a moment, she thought he had no idea what she was talking about and that she’d just made a gigantic fool of herself, but she ought to have given the ever-perverse Slytherin some more credit. “You say it,” he suddenly balked, and pulled his neck away so their lips weren’t touching. 

Indignation had her spluttering in disbelief. “What? No, you say it!”

“I won’t.”

“Sebastian!” She smacked him in the chest with both hands. He didn’t even sway. “Say it! Admit it!” She was so tightly wound, so desperate to have him finally, that her body seemed to be melting in the cool night breeze. “Admit what?” He adopted an air of total nonchalance, putting his hands in his pockets and began to meander up the path that led towards the Hogsmeade entrance as if he had all the time in the world. She watched him walk away for a few leisurely paces before she was following after him. She’d been so fucking close, too close to winning! Damn his tipsiness wearing off and being replaced by the mischievousness he loved to torture her with. 

She snatched the back of his vest to try and force him to look at her, but he kept strolling. “Admit you want me! Just say it!”

“Haven’t the foggiest what you’re referring to, but if you do ever feel like admitting to me that you desire me carnally, I’ll be at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the next month, should you need to look me up,” he yawned. 

Sallow, you bull-headed twat. Grab that woman and tell her what an angel she is and take her to bed right this instant!

In my own time, he responded to himself, then he took one last look at the angel in question, who was panting with eyes ablaze. Fuck, he wanted to toy with her like this for the rest of his life. With a crack, the stubborn bastard disapparated.

pt. 5

masterlist

[jasmines-library]

Tired Eyes

WHUMPTOBER DAY 26: Prompt: “working to exhaustion”

Fandom: Batfam/DC

Summary: It’s been a long day, and you’re too caught up with work to take care of yourself, so it’s up to your brothers to do it for you.

Warnings: Exhaustion, overworking, none really it’s more fluffy than anything.

Word count: 1.2K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You weren’t tired. No. You just needed to rest your eyes a little, that was all.

The screen of the computer had begun to hurt your eyes, making your temples to throb so, with your elbows planted firmly on the table, you began to massage them to ease the pain, but here you found your eyes dropping closed and your head falling towards table. The dim lighting of the cave didn’t help much either.

As soon as your head hit your clammy palm, you jolted awake, sitting up abruptly and straightening your back against the chair, snapping back to the mountain of work that you needed to get done.

Your fingers moved sluggishly against the keyboard as you typed up the reports. It had been a busy week and so you were left with a large pile of unfinished essays to type and not a lot of time to do them. It was late; the rest of the boys had returned to their beds, deciding to write their reports the following day, but you were already behind which meant that despite the ungodly hour you were still plastered to the chair.

Reaching blindly for your coffee with one hand you wrapped your hands around the ceramic and brought it to your lips. The drink was lukewarm and bitter as it ran over your tongue, but you were desperate for the buzz that the caffeine gave you.

You hadn’t realised that the sun had crept up of you until Dick strolled into the room, barefoot and in his pyjamas. He did a double take when he saw you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Y/n?” He asked, frowning at you. At the sound of his voice you glanced over at him briefly, noting his messy hair. He observed the fact that you were still wearing the same clothes as you were when he went to bed last night. “Did you even go to sleep?”

You shook your head, continuing to press your fingers into the little plastic squares not even nothing to look his direction as you continued to work. “Nope.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How long have you been awake?”

“Dunno.” You shrugged. “What time is it?”

“6”

“ ‘Bout…26- 27 hours?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/n. You need sleep.”

“I will. I just need to get this done first. You can get me another coffee though?”

“Y/n-“

“Sorry Dick, can’t hear you over my cleverness.”

He rolled his eyes, but snatched the cup from your hand anyway and went to prepare breakfast.

It seemed like forever before you finally entered the last word on your essay slumped back against the chair. You were feeling exhausted and your body had began to grow stiff from sitting in the same place for so long, so after submitting it you shuffled into the kitchen where your brothers were sat lounging on chairs.

“Woah, Y/n.” Damian said through a mouthful of bacon that he had piled onto his plate “You look like hell.”

“Thanks Dames.” You scoffed. “Just what a woman wants to hear.

“I didn’t mean it like that-“

“She hasn’t slept.” Dick interjected.

Tim narrowed eyes at you over the top of his book. “What? Why?”

“I had too much to do, Jaybird.”

“Well then go to bed now.”

“Can’t.” You grabbed a slice of toast and slid it onto a plate. “Still got too much to do. Besides, I’m not tired.”

“Sure.” He rolled his eyes and went back to his book.

The rest of the day dragged on. You had busied yourself with small tasks that needed to be done during the day and then once all of those were done, you had spent some time in the training room to work on your technique, but your movements were slow and well below par so eventually you gave up, slipped off of the blue mat and dragged yourself towards the showers.

You twisted the dial all the way to the left, waiting for it to settle to an even temperature as you stepped out of your clothes. When you climbed into the shower, the cold water stung your skin as it ran down your back but it kept you wide awake and on your feet so with shaky hands you grabbed the shampoo bottles and began to massage it into your scalp. Although you were in and out quickly, by the time you were done and stepped out of the shower your body was wracked with shivers. Wrapping a thick white towel around you, you dried yourself off before changing into something comfier and creeping back down the stairs now feeling slightly more awake.

You made your way into the library, where shelves filled to the brim with books lined the walls. You ran your fingers against the shelves and noted that when you pulled your hand away you had collecting a thin sheen of dust.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Tim was rounding the corner to return his book that had been absentmindedly flicking through the all day but found that it didn’t give him the thrill he was looking for, so he had wandered back to the library to select another on me when he heard you shuffling around.

“But it needs to be done-“

“Alfred will do it.” Tim told you, placing a large hand on your shoulders and steering you away from the shelves after you had selected a book. A blue hardback covered dainty little flowers embroidered along the spine.

“But he already has so much to do.” You protested.

“It’s his job, y/n/n. And you need to get some sleep.”

You sighed. “I’m not tired, Tim. Seriously lay off it.”

He raised his hands in surrender and wheeled away in a huff. You settled down on the plush sofa, bringing your knees to your chest to read under the gentle light and revel in the silence for just a few moments. Tim settled opposite you, sprawling out across the other couch.

For the next few hours the only sound that filled the room was the gentle flick of turning pages. That was until the other three came bundling in, but you didn’t notice. You had drifted off into a mindless sleep.

You were woken to a a gentle nudge on your shoulder and you sat up abruptly.

“Hmm? What?”

“You fell asleep.” Jason told you.

“No I didn’t…” you mumbled.

Jason pursed his lips. “I think you did.”

You blinked at him.

“Seriously, y/n just go to bed.” Damian told you.

You contemplated for a moment before hauling yourself up onto your feet. You stumbled across the room when a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over you and you were forced to grip onto the counter to keep yourself upright. When you moved to take another step, dragging your feet along the carpet you stumbled again.

“Alright. That’s it.” Dick stood up and moved across the room with one big stride, picking you up effortlessly and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down.”

Someone snickered behind you.

“No can do little bat. You’re going to bed.”

He hauled you off to your room ignoring your remarks and pointless excuses. When he reached your door, he threw you over his shoulder and onto the bed. You tried to crawl away, but he just grabbed your ankle and pushed you back onto your pillows.

“Sleep.” He told you firmly, using his voice that only came out when he was ordering the rest of you around during a patrol. You pouted, glaring at him through hooded eyes, but he just gave you a little smirk, drew the curtains and moved to the door ignoring your antics.

“Goodnight, y/n. Sleep well.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 25 ⛤ DAY 27 ->

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

[heelovver]

~Super shy~

Hi~ ❤︎₊ ⊹

I ’m new here, hopefully you enjoy my writing thanks for reading

Pairing: EnemySunghoon x reader/afab

Genre: smut, enemies to lovers

Summery: Sunghoon and you have been enemies since childhood. Sunghoon was always rude to all the girls, and you always defended them. Sunghoon can’t stand fake girls who look for his attention that’s why he bothers you so much. You don’t treat him like a piece of meat. He only has eyes for you but you only know how to talk his ears off so he has to stop it somehow.

Warning: sexual themes, fingering, unprotected sex (rap it before you tap it), making out.

Not proofread

~❤︎~ ˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧ ‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ₊ ˚‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧˚₊‧~❤︎~

Life since childhood has always been interesting. You always had good friends. You were well known and respected. You always did your best and acted accordingly. There is just one thing that has always bothered you. Park Sunghoon and his stupid face, stupid grades, and stupid attitude. You always came second place from him. He didn’t even try so why can’t you beat him. He just sleeps and you study your ass off day and night. He wasn’t even nice and everyone liked him while you had to suck up and fake it. Him and his stupid attitude towards everything. “Good job Sunghoon you got the highest graded essay.” “Thanks I guess”

It was a typical Friday evening 6:43PM to be exact. You just wanted to get your lecture over with and go home to sleep before the weekend. So why at this moment do you want to kick Park Sunghoon right in the balls. He is staring at you with that same old smirk he always had. It just so happens Sunghoon has to have the same class. Being the last person to leave due to taking extra notes. You pack your bag and head out. Standing there blocking the door not letting you leave. “Hey miss second place” he says while smirking. That stupid nickname he’d given you since elementary school all the way until now, college. “Go away idiot.” You reply glaring up at him. “Why do you try so hard when you know you can’t beat me darling?” You chose to ignore him and step on his feet. “Ouch” he bite his lip in pain. “Move or I’ll do way worse than that.” “So much attitude when I’m just trying to wish you luck on the exam. I Which you’ll need it.” Pissed you shove him away and speed walk to your car. Getting into your car driving away furious. “His Stupid, stupid, stupid smirk. Don’t let him in your head he just wants to get under your skin you’re way too old to fall for his stupid tricks.”

Saturday a night of studying in the library. Waking up then doing nothing the whole day made you feel lazy. Study was your only way of being productive. Sitting in the back studying for your upcoming exam. You feel someone sit next to you. “Miss second place studying on the weekend typical when you have no life.” Sunghoon sits grabbing onto the book you were reading. “Leave me alone or I swear I’ll mess that pretty face of yours up.” You tried to grab your book back. “You think I’m pretty thanks” he lifts the book out of your reach. You sit with your knees on the couch turning to him reaching for your book. “This is what happens when you never drink your milk in middle school.” Your face turns serious. Leaning back he toys with the book in front of your face. You harshly push him down to try and grab your book back. With that you fall in between his legs, your hands beside his head, face to face in shock. “S-sorry.” You say after what felt like hours which really was 4 seconds. He wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you both up. “Here” he looks up and sees your pout the kind of pout that makes Sunghoon flustered. He hands you your book and leaves. “Why is my heart beating so much and why did his stupid eyes look so so- shut up don’t think about that back to studying” you think to yourself before plugging your EarPods on playing your playlist and studying.

It was the day of the exam. You feel so tired from your late night study sech. Your handed your test looking at it and thinking it’s easy. “Thank god I studied” you thought to yourself. An hour passed your almost done just 14 questions left. From the corner of your eyes you see someone stand up handing in their test. Of course it was Sunghoon. Him and his idgaf face walking out of the class after handing in his paper. “How did he finish so fast. What a show off” you thought to yourself before rushing. “5 minutes left” your professor yelled warning everyone. Your focus gone over thinking every question you answered. “Fuck only 5 minutes and 3 questions left.” You muttered then bit your lips and answered with the best of your abilities. “Please hand in your exams placing them on my desk.” You stand up knowing you didn’t even get to do your best. Thinking “I did all that studying for nothing” feeling overwhelmed you packed your bags slowly. Tears threatening to spill out. Being last again in the class you didn’t care and tears started streaming out. “Stupid Sunghoon who only needs an hour when I can’t even finish within the time.” You muttered wiping your tears. You walked towards the door opening it just for somebody to block your way. Looking up it was of course Sunghoon. “We already know you got second plac-.” He looks down at you. You and your teary eyes, tear stained cheeks and that pout.

It’s always that stupid pout on your face that makes him dizzy and flustered. Ever since you guys were young one look at your face and he’d felt like the worst person in the world. He never told you of course. He was supposed to like being your #1 hated person, you guys are enemies. Why did he feel so guilty though why must he want to cheer you up.

Flashback: “hey can I play with you” Yunjin asked Sunghoon. “No” “Hey! you’re supposed to share” you yelled after seeing Yunjin cry. “I don’t want to” Sunghoon gave you a smug look. “My mom said sharing is caring!” Yunjin shouted. “I don’t care so I won’t share.” Sunghoon replied making Yunjin cry to you even more. “It’s okay Yunjin I’ll talk to him” you leave Yunjin and walk up to Sunghoon. “What do you want miss second place.” He stuck his tongue out looking at you. “Please let Yunjin play on the slide too.” You pout up at him. Sunghoon flushed in red “Fine but I’m not going to play with her.” Sunghoon walks away.

“That stupid, stupid, stupid pout. You know that was the first time I admitted I liked you to myself.” Looking up at him pouting even more so. “Liked” Sunghoon wipes the tear threatening to come out. “Yeah because right at this moment. I’ve decided I don’t want to hurt you anymore. All that enemies shit is stupid if it’s just going to hurt the girl I love.” He leans his face down so close you feel like you can’t breathe. “May I” he asks. “No you may not. How can I be the girl you love. All you do is bother me. You call me names like miss second place. You make me feel worse about myself. All I ever wanted was to be better than you so don’t act like this. Don’t make me act like this.” Sunghoon backs you up onto the door pinning your wrist above your head. “Act like what” he asks still inches away from your face. “Like a hopeless romantic. I don’t want to love you. You’ve only ever were rude to me. I can’t I won’t I will never accept thi-.” Sunghoon closes the gap and kisses you passionately. In shock you try to free your hands from his grasp. Sunghoon stops kissing you “That’s for making me hate you.” He kisses you again but rougher. “That’s for making me crazy over you.” He kisses you again gently. “That’s just because I wanted to.” He lets go of your wrists. You look up at him embarrassed and flustered. “You’re so annoying, how can you still win first at being a good kisser.” You hit him on the chest before wrapping your arms around his neck. You hide your face next to his neck. “I hate the way I’m in love with you when you make me so angry.” You move to look at him and pout. Sunghoon smiles at your cuteness. “Why don’t you take that anger out on me then.” He places his hands on your waist while you turn bright red. “Why so shy now. You always knew how to put your mouth into good use.” You hit him again but he caught your wrist. “You’re such a perv.” You walk out of the hallway Sunghoon following behind. “So are we a thing or what?” Sunghoon caught up interlocking your hands. “I guess we can be.” You answer not looking at him but already knowing he has his stupid smirk painted on his face.

A month has passed since all that hating nonsense. “I don’t wanna study I wanna shove my tongue down your throat.” Sunghoon sighs laying down onto the bed. “If you behave maybe I’ll let you.” You say then go back to reading. “Why do we need to study when we always place top anyways.” he looks at you playing with your hair still lying down. “You always place first I’m second.” “So, you’re first in my heart.” Sunghoon gets up giving you a goofy smile. “First off cringe and second shut up I really need to study.” “So mean” He grabs onto your book throwing it somewhere in his room. “Hey I told you I need to study for the anatomy tes-.” He grabbed you pulling you to straddle him. “You can study me. I’ll help. Touch me anywhere you want.” No longer serious but instead embarrassed you look away. “Fine you don’t want to study me I’ll study you.” He flips you both him now on top. He removes your his hoodie and your short shorts. “This part” he stops licking his fingers sliding them inside your shorts. “It’s the clitoris it contains more than 10,000 nerves. So when I do this.” He rubs your clit in circle making you slightly moan. “You turn into such a slut for me no matter how much you hate it.” He smirks looking at your expression. “This part is your vagina.” He shoves two fingers in without warning. “Sunghoon” you moan out gripping onto his biceps. “Yes baby” he looks down at you with his messy hair falling down. “This has nothing to do with the test.” You say whining. “Just for ruining the mood I’m gonna fuck you until you forget everything you to studied.” He leans down kissing you and shoving his fingers into you repeatedly. His tongue exploring every crevice of the inside of your mouth. You suck onto his tongue moaning. He adds a third finger fastening his pace. You arch your back subconsciously about to cum. “You gotta wait for me darling.” Sunghoon smirks at your annoyed face. Removing his fingers then sucking them. “You’re so gross.” You say looking at him in awe. He takes off your shorts along with your bra eyeing you the whole time. “Not fair I wanna see you too.” You pout at him knowing it’ll work. Sunghoon takes off all his clothing. “Better?” You replied by nodding yes. “We don’t need protection do we. Since I’m always first place I’ll get a good job you can stay home and take care of the kids, right? You wanna be stuffed to the brim with my cum don’t you. I wanna impregnate you so bad so everybody knows you’re all mine.” You groan rubbing your thighs together. “Just hurry and fuck me you’re so annoying.” “Since you asked me so nicely.” Sunghoon slides his dick between your folds. “Such a tea-.” Without warning he thrusts in making you gasp. His dick hitting all the right places made you clench. “Fu-fuck don’t do that I’m gonna fucking cum if you keep clenching.” Unable to control yourself you just moan. “So tight no matter how much I fuck you.” His right hand starts to pinch your nipple while his left rubs your clit. “Sungh- ahh too much.” He leans down sucking your sweet spot on your neck. Marking you with hickeys that’ll stay for days before replacing them again. You arch your back subconsciously too overwhelmed with pleasure you cum. Sunghoon cumming not too short later filling you up to the brim. Sunghoon fucks the mixture of both your cum that has been spilling out back into you. “Cumming first still makes you miss second place.” Sunghoon smirks.

[vhagarlovebot]

THE WAY I FEEL INSIDE.

pairing: modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

summary: you’ve been in love with aemond targaryen ever since your second year at boarding school, the only problem is that he doesn’t know it and you’ve never been good at lying to him.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, pining, hurt/comfort, love confessions, mentions of alcohol, swearing, basically two idiots in love. it is a little bit long.

note: hello, lovely reader ! i just want to say a few things before you start reading. this was one of my first works here on this app but in a different blog way back when i used to write for the marauders. this was actually written thinking about remus lupin and i edited it the best i could, so you’re probably still going to see some very poor grammar and it’s because i’d just started writing in english and because of that it is completely normal for me to still have problems writing in a language that isn’t mine. i really hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

THE GREAT HALL IS A MESS in the morning and does not help with the migraine you woke up with, therefore you can’t focus on an essay that’s due today. it does not help that your friends are laughing and talking with each other either, it’s not like you’re good at paying attention to one thing when there’s a lot going on right next to you, so your attention shifts away to them not really listening to what they’re saying.

you’re still with your hands on your head looking directly at the book you have in front, trying to sort out the mess, when cregan’s voice startles you.

“you alright, love?” he asks from his seat in front of you, the hint of a smirk on his face.

“jus’ trying to finish this essay.” you say softly, closing the book and rubbing your tired eyes with the palm of your hand.

“i thought you finished it last night.” baela says, turning her head, body facing cregan. “you need help?”

“not really,” you give her a tired smile. “m’just tired, i didn’t sleep well last night.”

whatever baela says you can’t hear it because from the corner of your eyes you see aemond’s tall body getting closer to the table and sitting next to you. twenty minutes ago he was sitting at that same spot but left without saying a word, causing everyone to worry.

“here,” aemond gives you something, looking down you see a white pill in his open palm. “s’going to make you feel better.”

you don’t say anything, you just stare at those bright blue eyes and blushed cheeks. and he stares back, not paying attention to anyone but you.

you didn’t think aemond could do anything else to show how much he cares about you, but you were proved wrong. something as simple as this has your heart beating fast and tears filling your eyes, and you’re extra aware that he can hear the thump thump thump of your heart as much as you can see the frown that has taken over his face.

and you’re also aware your friends are watching, so you take a deep breath and the pill still sitting on his hand.

“always taking care of me, aem, thank you.” you mumble, laying your head on his shoulder.

you walk slowly through the halls, head in the clouds.

you were able to finish the essay on time, the migraine long gone, and the only reason you managed to do it was thanks to aemond because if he hadn’t gone to the infirmary then you’d still be sitting in the great hall eating your brains out.

at the thought of your best friend a smile makes its way on your face.

ever since you have known aemond he’s always been extra careful with you, extra attentive, extra caring. and you’re pretty sure it started during second year in boarding school when your parents sent you a letter saying they would not be home for christmas, which meant you had nowhere to go and no other option but to stay at the school alone. aemond was sitting close to you that day and saw the way you tried to hide your sadness with a small smile but weren’t able to keep the tears from falling, and when you left in such a hurry that you didn’t notice you had dropped the letter on your way out, that’s exactly when he decided to persuade his friends to stay. he didn’t mind lying or spending christmas at the school, he just wanted to see the pretty girl smile again.

you met the targaryens on christmas day your second year at boarding school when they were some of the few students who stayed too, and it was one of the best thing that ever happened in your life.

you fell in love with aemond targaryen on christmas day your second year at boarding school, though at that time you didn’t know and refused to accept it until fifth year.

you two fell into a routine in which you were a walking mess and he was right there next you ready to help you, or be a mess with you. always making sure you eat all your meals after he saw how on fourth year you stopped going to breakfast choosing to go straight to classes and how you always stayed at the library until there was no one left, so you were free to go to your dorm without worried glances from your friends. that was until you came down from the girls dormitories one morning, knowing everyone was at the great hall, everyone except aemond who was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs with an apple and a juice box in his right hand, and a shy smile on his face. always making sure you understood everything your professors said. always waiting for you after one particular class you two did not share once he witnessed some girls being mean to you. and you were always happy to lie next to him when he was feeling grouchy and scared, giving him comforting words and tracing the scar on his face, making him hide under his pillow with blushed cheeks; he looked after you and you looked after him, that’s your friendship. you always tried to convince yourself it was just a friend worrying for a friend, when in fact you were head over heels in love with the boy.

there have been a few occasions where all you wanted to do was tell him how much you love him; a lot more than a best friend should love her best friend. but every time you decided to finally do it, still afraid you would ruin the friendship but unable to hide how much you were feeling, something that would leave you with scattered pieces of your heart in your hands happened. because with each passing year while the feeling inside of you grew, and it grew and it grew, aemond showed you he didn’t feel the same way. and you knew he never did it on purpose, how could he if he didn’t know you were in love with him while he snogged different girls, running to talk to you about it and breaking your heart. you didn’t think you’d hate lying so much, but every time he sought advice from you, you hated every word that came out of your mouth, you hated the forced smile on your face, you hated how your eyes welled up with tears when he told you alys rivers stopped him after classes to tell him how handsome he looked that day, batting her eyelashes then coyly hiding behind her books. you hate how your chest physically aches when there is a party in the common hall because it means you’d have to see him flirt with a different girl all night. and that’s exactly why you stopped going to parties, giving a different excuse every time someone asked.

so you convinced yourself that everything you could ever have from aemond is his everlasting friendship. and that is better than not having aemond at all.

your walk comes to a stop when you see your friends sitting in the grass at the rugby pitch, in the distance cregan is giving his team a talk before the game, looking rather annoyed.

“cregan’s going to kill you if you don’t take this game seriously.” you say looking at your raven-haired friend, tossing your bag and sitting next to helaena. at this, jace throws you a half-eaten chocolate before taking his things and jogging to his friend.

“where were you?” baela asks, titling her head.

“professor gerardys wanted help with something, i said yes for a few extra points.” you shrug, bringing the chocolate to your mouth while looking around. instant regret crosses your features at the sight of your best friend sitting a few meters away with a bunch of people, his arm around alys river’s shoulders.

luke follows your gaze. “it looks like she finally took the courage to ask him out.”

“she asked him out!?” your voice comes out a little too loud for your liking and you really don’t like the look of pity that comes into your girl friends eyes. “well, it was about damn time.” you chuckle, though your friends know the reality behind those words.

“you coming tonight?” helaena asks, changing the subject and rubbing your arms, but looking straight ahead to baela, who is making fun of something luke said. “i think it’ll make you feel better,” her smile is pleading. “y´know you need it, forget the books for one night.”

you look at aemond one more time. “i think i deserve it.”

you are laughing as baela explains to two boys how jace was the one who helped win the match. “no, no! you don’t understand how important it is that jace did that,” she exclaims. “if he had gone to the left, then we wouldn’t be here.” the silver-haired shakes her head, taking a sip of her drink.

“i think they get it, baels.” you roll your eyes, rubbing shoulders with her. “don’t you, boys?” they nod eagerly, hiding their faces behind the cups filled with liquor.

your conversation is interrupted by someone leaning against the wall next to you. “hey, you.” aemond speaks after a moment of silence. “i didn’t think you’d be coming.”

“if you want i can go back to my dorm.” you mumble, trying to avoid his gaze. you know you shouldn’t be so cold with him, after all he’s done nothing to have you reacting this way, at least not something he’s aware of.

“that’s not what i said.” you’re not looking at him but you can sense the frown on his face. “i’m happy you’re here, i can’t remember when was the last time we party together.”

“well, i’m here now.” you clear your throat. “were you with alys rivers today?” you definitely shouldn’t have asked, you don’t even want to talk about it. you would rather hear about how jace is the best player on his team than to hear about how the older girl is stealing your best friend’s heart when you wish you were her. you want your heart to stop hurting and your mind to stop creating scenarios in which it is you who’s feeling the warm emanating from his body, the owner of his laugh… his heart.

“you saw us?” he doesn’t sound surprised.

“s’not like you two were being quiet.” you shrug, taking a sip of your beer.

“we all saw you.” baela explains, interrupting the conversation in your favor. “are you two like… together?” she asks what’s been going through your mind all day but were too afraid to ask.

aemond goes silent and all the blood leaves your face. that’s it, this is the final confirmation you needed to let aemond go—not like he was yours to lose—and you don’t want to hear it. your heart has been crushed so many times through the years you don’t think you could handle it one more time.

you straighten your shoulders and smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “if you’ll excuse me.” you try to fight the feeling that has settled in your belly, pushing away the pain in your chest, but it gets harder every second. you would think time would make it easier.

you try to hide the sound of your heart breaking by walking away, but aemond is having none of it. he grabs your wrist and you’re forced to stay right where you are. but you’re afraid. you fear that the longer you spend with aemond, the more emotionally unstable you become, eventually exposing yourself and your true feelings.

baela excuses herself, leaving you and your best friend alone, though the common hall is full, it feels like it is just the two of you.

“are you feeling alright?” he asks, confused. “you want me to go to the infirmary again? i’m sure they will ha—”

“jus’ stop it!” you cut him off, pushing him away.

he whispers your name. “i’m just trying to—”

“i didn’t ask you.”

“well, ouch.” aemond takes a step back, looking at you like you have two heads coming out of your body. “i know you didn’t ask me, but i want to.”

“m’not your fucking problem.” you mutter bitterly to yourself, but he hears it.

“did i do something to upset you?” he asks, genuinely worried. you can see the gears moving inside his head, like he’s really trying to remember what did he do.

you know you’re acting this way guided by your feelings and aemond has nothing, but everything actually, to do with it.

you take a deep breath. “i’m sorry, i’m not feeling well today.” you shake your head, taking two careful steps towards him. “you did nothing. i just need to lay down, i’ll see you in the morning.” you assure him with a smile.

but again, he’s grabbing your wrist before you can walk away. “i can go up with you.”

“you should worry about your girlfriend.” you nod, looking over his shoulder at alys rivers, who’s not even trying to hide the scowl on her face.

he doesn’t even look. “but you need me.”

he doesn’t deny it.

aemond doesn’t deny she’s his girlfriend.

“i don’t need you.” you get out of his grip and he doesn’t stop you.

once you are out of sight, you let all the tears fall.

you don’t know what time it is, but you still hear the music echoing. sighing, you roll on your back ready to go back to sleep when you hear what woke you up again. you can barely hear the thud coming from outside the dorm and the first thing that comes into your mind is that one of the girls is trying to open the door but is too drunk to do it, so you get out of bed.

there is, indeed, someone drunk behind the door. but this person has silver hair and blue eyes that, you are sure, look into your soul.

you suddenly remember you cried yourself to sleep and if he weren’t too drunk he’d notice how red your eyes are.

“what are you doing here, aemond?” you ask, helping him to his feet and inside your dorm.

“why do you hate me so much?” he drags the words, and you can smell the whisky every time he opens his mouth.

“i don’t hate you, silly.” you couldn’t help but laugh, carrying him to your bed. “maybe i do hate you a little bit right now. how much did you drink?”

“don’t know, lost the count.” he smiles while looking at you. “would you lay down with me?”

“okay, jus’ let me take off your shoes.” he keeps staring at you while you help him get rid of his jacket and shoes, he even smiles every time you make eye contact.

once you’re lying on your bed again, aemond turns to you. “why were you crying?” it doesn’t surprise you, really, he’s always been extra observant.

“i had a bad migraine.” you shrug, avoiding his gaze. but his slender fingers on your chin make you look directly at him. you try to steady your heart, pounding in your chest so hard you know he can hear it.

“yea’ right.” aemond mocks you. “after that pill i gave you this morning there’s no way you still had it.”

“maybe it wasn’t as effective as you thought.”

“would you stop for a second?” he grimaces, bringing his hands to his temple. “i can’t think straight and you already have my mind going in circles.”

“what does that mean?”

he sighs, caressing your cheek. “you don’t even notice.”

“notice what?” you ask, confused. he’s drunk and talking nonsense, and having him so close to you isn’t helping.

“that i’m—” he whispers, not breaking eye contact, air tick between the two of you. a part of you hopes his next words are the ones you were dying to hear for so long. you also hope you’re not dreaming when you see him lower his gaze to your lips. you’re extra aware of the proximity, you feel his breath on your face, combination of alcohol, cigarettes and just aemond. he parts his lips and you instantly close your eyes. “m’going to be sick.”

“what?” you open your eyes only to miss his warmth.

aemond rushes to the bathroom, face pale. you know he’s throwing up before you even get out of bed, and it doesn’t take long for you to be by his side.

aemond whines when you try to get closer, a wet cloth in hand. “don´t.”

“i’ll always hold your hand, aem.” you whisper, reminding him of the words he’s said to you a bunch of times. when you get closer again he doesn’t say anything and just lets you do your thing. “this is goin’ to make you feel better.” you say quietly, filling a glass of water and kneeling beside him.

aemond groans, resting against the wall behind him. you do the same. “you know,” he turns his head to you. “you are really, really pretty.”

your cheeks go red immediately and you know aemond notices that too, so you try to look somewhere else but his hands on your jaw don’t let you. and so you find yourself looking straight into his blue eyes, full of something you can’t figure it out. but he stares at you for a long time, or maybe it's just seconds, but you feel like he spends hours smiling at you with his eyes slightly closed, like you’re going to vanish if he stops and leave him there on the bathroom floor feeling pathetic.

“and you are really, really drunk.” your voice is barely a whisper, still looking at him.

“you don’t believe me? you don’t believe me.” he shakes his head, the smile growing. “you’re so oblivious.”

“m’not!” you complain, pulling his hand away.

you really don’t know what he’s talking about, but he doesn’t need to know that. he also does not need to know you’re feeling those familiar butterflies in your belly, the ones that appeared the first time he held your hand, leaving your entire body tingling.

“i should kiss you right now to see how oblivious you are after.” aemond says casually, as if he didn’t just say what you think he did.

“wh—what?” this time your eyes are fix on the bathroom floor; the tiles are more interesting than his eyes. oh but you know if you look at him again you’ll be completely lost. you know he’s drunk and saying things he doesn’t really feel because he doesn’t feel that way about you, right? suddenly, your eyes are on him again. “don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“but i mean it.” his eyes dart to your lips. when he looks up again, he realizes he’s been caught. “do you want to kiss me, sweet girl?” aemond moves closer, his face inches away from yours. of course you want to kiss him, you’ve been dreaming of it for years, and even in those dreams, it didn’t feel this surreal.

“why don’t you ask me again when you’re sober?” you shake your head, a smile making its way on your face. “and your breath stinks, by the way.”

aemond laughs, resting his head on your shoulder. your heart skips a beat because he doesn’t say anything, and when you are going to speak again not knowing exactly what to say but wanting to hear something from him, anything that could tell you how he really feels, aegon appears in the doorway.

“hey, lover boy, it’s time to go.” he kneels in front of you and his brother just groans, hiding behind your hair and inhaling your perfume.

“you smell nice.” the smile on his face is one of drunkenness.

and when you witness how aemond can barely stand, your heart breaks into tiny pieces. maybe aemond was just drunk, maybe he just wanted to kiss you because you were the only girl with him. you weren’t aemond’s first choice; you were his last.

you wake up feeling a little optimistic. you don’t know if aemond really meant what he said, but you are ready to face whatever his words may be, even if those words break your heart.

none of your friends are in the common hall when you go downstairs and, in all honesty, you don’t want to look for them, there's only one person in your head and you’re going to find him before all bravery leaves your body.

you are smiling widely when you step into the great hall, familiar faces sitting at the table but not the one you’re looking for. your smile falters when you get closer to your friends, all of them laughing and talking about the party last night. maybe he’s still asleep, maybe you’ll grab some food and bring it to him. maybe you could do that if he wasn’t sitting next to alys rivers at her table.

tears fill your eyes as you hear helaena’s voice calling your name, but all your attention is on aemond and the smile adorning his face. all you can hear before running out of there it’s his laugh. of course he wasn’t thinking straight, what were you thinking? he’s so charming and handsome, always helping others, always smelling good, always flirting with pretty girls in the hallways, always enjoying his popularity. he’s tall, agile and strong, smart; of course he needs a girl that can match with him, his needs. and you’re not that girl. you’re not popular, most of the time you are running late to classes, asking help from others, you don’t do sports and it shows, it’s a miracle if a boy flirts with you and if a boy does it, most of the time it’s because him or his friends want you to introduce them to your girlfriends. you are not that pretty either, you have bags under your eyes, you barely do make up and your hair is a disaster. what could aemond targaryen possibly like about you?

you barely make it to the stairs leading to your dorm when a hand grabs your wrist, heavy breathing behind you. “wait!”

“sorry, i forgot something,” you say quickly, wiping your tears with your free hand. “i’ll be back in a minute.”

he lets you go and you run to the stairs, before his words stop you. “i was really drunk las’ night, wasn’t i?”

“yes.” you say with a bitter laugh.

“shit— i think i threw up in your bathroom.” he laughs, and you hear his footsteps getting closer. “sorry ‘bout that.”

“it’s okay.” you smile even though he can’t see your face. “i need to grab this thing before class, you know how profess—“

“i’m sober now.”

your heart stops beating, everything around you stops. did you hear him right? you don’t dare to move, you can’t.

what could aemond targaryen possibly like about you?

“but i saw you with al—”

“she’s barely a friend.” he explains. “i don’t know if what you said last night was because you didn’t know how to reject me,” he starts saying, moving closer and closer to you. “but i’m here anyway. i can’t hide what i feel inside me anymore.” and that’s when you turn around.

he’s a few feet away, fidgeting with his hands and looking at you with that same something you saw last night.

“i’ve loved you since the first time i saw you. when—”

“when we met on second year.” you interrupt him, cocking your head to the side. of course you remember, because the letter you got from your parents that year was the reason your whole friendship started. you just can’t believe what you are hearing. now the tears streaming down your face have a different reason, one you did not think was possible.

he smiles sheepishly at you. “no—that was not the first time i saw you.” he scratches the back of his neck, meeting your gaze. “i saw you the first day of school, on the train. you were sitting next to baela and i remember thinking ‘god, i’ve never seen such a beautiful girl before’” he takes one step forward. “i remember thinking i was seeing an angel.” he chuckles, his face red and eyes glistening. “i’m seeing one right now.”

you can’t see due to the cascade coming from your eyes, you try to wipe it, only for them to be replaced with more tears. you didn’t think you could smile this big, to feel this happy, to feel this loved.

“i remember seeing you in classes, in the hallways… always so pretty.” he takes another step, this time only looking at your eyes, not fidgeting with his hands, not uncertainty in his words. “i was a silly, silly boy back then and didn’t know how to talk to you, so when on second year you got that letter,” he looks shy, his eyes meeting the floor. “i took it and convinced the boys to persuade our parents to stay. i wanted to stay with you, i wanted to see you smile again and—when i saw the smile you gave me, it was all worth it.”

you rush to him, face wet and blushed, and a heart beating so fast you think it’s going to explode. locking your arms around his neck, you softly press your lips to his in a kiss full of unspoken words, full of passion and love and tenderness. you are both crying and it’s wet, but oh so perfect.

“you love me?” you ask, smiling with teeth. you have never been so happy before, you have never felt so safe in someone’s arms as you feel in aemond’s; you have never felt so in love with aemond targaryen as you feel right now.

“i am hopelessly, irretrievably in love with you.” aemond murmurs, lips curled in a grin, arms around your waist making you feel those butterflies you’ve experienced through the years once more.

“and i am hopelessly, irretrievably in love with you, aemond targaryen.” you say softly, caressing his cheek. a new set of tears already falling down your face. “always have been.”

[soup-of-the-daisies]

I am once again sick and tired of people downplaying Sirius's intelligence. I need more art where he is studying and reading and doing that smart nerd shit!!!!! Also if I see one more modern AU where Sirius is an influencer* or something I will start throwing things because he would not fucking do that.

(*i know that i have written one where he is BUT the whole point is that it didn’t make any sense and he was miserable)

no but literally— sirius would’ve been SUCH a big fan of free-time studying? he’s got everything he needs to know for school down pat, so he’s gonna look into more obscure magic for fun. he’s convinces james (very easily, i might add) to take the invisibility cloak into the restricted section and then they just sit there reading and taking notes all night. if they did discover the room of requirement while at hogwarts, sirius would’ve been in heaven: room for practice?? peace and fucking quiet?? private space to plan mischief?? FREE BOOKS?? good lord.

he’s SO clever. he likes being the smartest person in the room. he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. he’s got his own topics of interest that he can completely lose himself in when he’s on a research binge. as there’s no need for him to study the readings assigned in class — he knows all of that shit already — he’s going to do entirely unnecessary additional reading and he’s having the time of his life while he’s at it. his schedule is divided in eating time, homework time, class time, mischief time, staring-at-james time, and an ungodly amount of self-study. sirius is a NERD and a genius one at that, and he flat-out refuses to act shallow when he’s so clearly not; being bright and sharp and demeaning to others is an intrinsic part of him that he’s never going to let go of, not really.

influencer sirius would only be happy if he’s the video essay-kind of influencer. he’s delving into the academia. he’s writing 30 page theses and his vids are just him presenting them. he’s a model? he’s studying international law in his free time. he’s going to LEARN things (and look amazing while doing it). he needs the brain stimulation. he does difficult crosswords and sudokus when he can’t sleep, or at the breakfast table while his attention is thinly divided between three conversations and his cooling coffee. learning is as fun for him as making others feel stupid is.

we NEED more art of him being like this:

but it all makes sense to at least james, and sometimes remus and peter when they’re sleep-deprived enough to keep up with him

[burning-academia-if]

Lars + "serenity"?

Congrats on the anniversary!

Thank you!!

Here's Lars + serenity

You’d found him sleeping. He must have been tired, to have fallen asleep on a couch in the Student Warden’s base. There was no one else here, save for the two of you. The severity of his expression was gone with sleep. You could see the dark shadows of his eyes, a permanent fixture, so much clearer.

            He’d asked you to bring something over after you were done with work. Knowing him, he hadn’t gone to sleep yet despite it being around six in the morning when he’d sent the text. It’s no wonder he’s asleep now.

            With quiet steps, you set the bag of requested items down on the table. Lars, always a light sleeper even in the midst of no sleep, furrowed his brows and blinked awake. There was no grogginess, just an immediate snap to attention.

            “Didn’t mean to wake you, I was just dropping these off.” You motion towards the bag.

            He frowns, though you don’t think it’s directed at you, “I didn’t mean to sleep. I have things to do.”

            You noticed. The desk in front of the couch was already a collection of books and articles and notes, complete with a laptop sitting on top of part of the mess. Technical graphs mixed with occult looking diagrams, making them nonsense to you.

            “You looked like you need the nap. You should go back to sleep.”

            “No.”

            You resist the urge to roll your eyes, “No one’s even here.”

            “Who knows when the others will be back. I don’t trust them enough to wake up to them.” There are plenty of comments to make to that. The first is, who does he trust? The second is that he’s such a light sleeper they couldn’t do anything in the first place. And the third is, why did he let himself fall asleep if he knew you were coming?

            You don’t say any of that, though, “If it’s a big deal, I can stick around and wake you up if I hear the others coming.”

            With the look he sends you, you wait for his next refusal. It doesn’t come. Instead he rubs a hand over his eyes, and says, “Fine. Sure.”

            “Really?”

            “I haven’t slept in the past twenty four hours.” He eases himself back down. “You’re also as dangerous as a ball of lint.”

            This time you do roll your eyes, “Thanks.”

            “You’re welcome.” He closes his eyes again, and you decide to set up at the main table. You have essays to write and math equations to puzzle out, and the quiet here is perfectly suited for that. You can’t help but listen to Lars’ breathing, the rustling as he shifts.

            You don’t expect him to fall back to sleep. His guard is always raised too high around people to do that. But eventually, the rustling stops. His breathing goes soft again. When you glance up at him, he’s how you found him earlier.

            Despite yourself, you smile. Lars never trusts anyone, but with this, you’d like to think he trusts you. Even if it’s slight. Even if he’d immediately tell you to ‘fuck off’ if you suggested it.

            For the first time in a while, the two of you are wrapped in peace.

[hopefulidiocy]

Your Arms

Professor Snape x student reader

Warnings: suggestive but mainly a lot of fluff

Word count: 950

I do not own the Harry Potter characters.

Context: you suffer from night terrors and chronic nightmares, waking up to only want to be in the arms of your favourite Professor.

A/N: all characters are of age :)

⛅️I recommend listening to “Luminary” by Joel Sunny⛅️

Fear. The first thing you wake up to is fear. You clutch at your chest, your heart beating faster and faster as your eyes search around your dark dorm. Everyone is asleep soundly, without fear, around you. You notice the clock ticking towards half three in the early morning and you groan inwardly, sitting up and wiping the beads of hot sweat away from your hairline. You suffered from night terrors regularly but this is the first one in two months, you curse yourself for finding comfort in your sleep after so long. With your heart still beating, you lift the covers off your slick body, your feet landing on the cold wood as you tip toe towards the bathroom. The full moon drips in from the windows as you run the faucet, ice cold water splashing on your face finally brings you back to yourself but your breath still hitches, your shoulders heaving and you grip on the sides of the porcelain sink, breathing deeply through your nose and feel your lungs fill open with some difficulty. You wipe your tear eyes with the back of your hand and know there’s only one thing, one person, who can help you out.

You throw your Gryffindor robe around your shoulders, clipping it so you don’t look so lewd in your silk night dress that stops only at the knees. Tip toeing out of the dorm, your fluffy slippered feet land softly on the stone steps into the common room. There are some students bent over candlelight nose deep in books, too obsessed with studying to see you. You sneak away, closing the portrait behind you, careful not to wake them. Filch is wandering around with his ugly cat, you hear him whisper to himself and know that you’re in for the best sneaking you’ve ever done in your life because the walk to the Slytherin dungeons is difficult and far. The shadows become your best friends as you hop into each shadow, your feet playing against the moonlight until you reach Professor Snape’s office. Suddenly, your heart screeches to a halt. Something stops you from knocking on the door, and then you realise it’s your anxiety talking; worrying that he would turn you away from his door. His moods often swung from one extreme to the other and it’s not something you can predict. You breathe, as best as you can, fighting away the demons in your head and the pain from your night terror, trying your best to ward them off. You bring up your hand, balling it into a fist and knocking faintly but loud enough for him to call.

“Who is knocking at this time of night?” He asks sternly, the door muffling him but the angry tone evident.

“It’s me.” You whisper shout, tugging your robe at your wrists.

“Enter.” He says, still stern. You open the door, trying to minimise the creak, you pad softly into his office. Closing the door behind you and standing against it, your head slightly hanging in humiliation as you look at him through your long eyelashes. He was sitting at his wooden desk, a quill in his hand and marking essays, the candlelight flickering next to his elbows; his robe draped over the back of the chair. He doesn’t look up at you, his face falling into perplexity as he marks a particularly hard essay. He shakes his hand, putting down the quill for a moment, he always does this when his wrist grows tired from the writing. You wait by the door, not daring to inch further to him, your heart bumping hard against your chest as you relive those frightening moments your night terror gave you; a stray tear falling down your cheek. You thought this was a good idea, to be spoken by the one person who understood but maybe it wasn’t. Still, you can’t find the movement in your legs to walk out of the room.

“Um.” You clear your throat, he doesn’t seem to notice. “This was a mistake. I’m going to go.” You say uncertainly, slowly turning to the door.

“Not. So. Fast. Miss L/N.” He says, his voice still down at his essays. You rest your back against the door, breathing in through your nostrils.

“I’m sorry to bother you.” You whimper. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. He stays looking at the parchment beneath his nose, sighing as he marks something. You let all over your weight fall against the door, tears falling down your cheeks quicker. Once you sniff, he looks up. His black eyes at first angry and then soften when he watches a drop fall to your feet.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” He finally sets down his quill, clasping his fingers and resting his chin on them.

“I had a night terror again.” You wipe the tears away from your cheeks.

“There’s no need to cry, y/n. You’re alright.” His voice is laced with a mixture of concern and frustration. “You’ve come at a very bad time.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, unable to speak properly, the tears fall freer now.

“Come here, y/n.” He pushes his chair back, still sitting but giving you space to stand between him and the desk. You stand, sad and embarrassed in front of him. Embarrassed to be crying over something that isn’t real. “I… apologise for being grumpy.”

“You’re always grumpy.” Embarrassingly, that makes you cry more. He chuckles softly, reaching out to hold your cheek, his thumb caressing the skin just under your eye.

“Do you want to sleep here tonight?” He asks seriously, removing his hand and suddenly that space is burning for his touch again.

“Please, sir.” You sob, burying your face in your hands. You both know it’s a bad idea, the chances of people finding out about your… situationship is dangerous but right now you don’t care, you just want to be in his embrace.

“Okay, but you have to be out before breakfast.” He almost orders it, worry laced in his words. “Come here, sweetie.” You collapse your legs over his lap, you’re not straddling him because this is not the time, and your head rests gently on his shoulder. His arms drape over you, one arm around your shoulders and his other arm lying loosely over your knees. His hand rubs circles on your shoulder which he knows calms you down, his lips softly pressing against your temple. “Tell me about your night terror.”

“I don’t remember it. I just woke up sweating, I was whimpering and crying and I was so wet everywhere. My heart hasn’t even stopped hurting.” You sniff, two tears dropping onto his shoulder. He leans back slightly, wiping the tears away with his thumb, the touch so soft it eases your heart.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m here.” He soothes as his arms move tighter around you, guiding him to his hard chest. You settle into his chest, going quiet as he continues marking the work in front of him. He hums a tune under his breath as his quill works fast over the parchments. Your eyes begin to droop, but not before you snuggle further into him. “Do you want to go to my bed?” He questions quietly, his focus completely on the essays.

“I’m quite happy here. Unless you want me off your lap?” You say, your voice dripping with exhaustion.

“I’m happy to have you here. As long as you feel safe.” He reaches down, pressing his lips against yours and you favour that gentle kiss, holding onto the beautiful intimacy you two are currently sharing - unlike many of the other times you’re on his lap. “Always happy to have you on my lap, in every way.” He slightly teases, trying to make light of the situation. You giggle, wrapping your robe further over your legs as they begin to shiver. “And I’ve seen that night dress. It would be nice to see it another day.” He chuckles lightly, bending his neck over his essays. You laugh in response and then exhaustion takes over, your head lolls on his shoulder and you are swept into the world of rest in the arms of the one person who makes you feel safe.

[roachfun]

This is probably a wild thing to get but your “Gojo should stay dead” post has got my unmedicated ass vibrating.

(I’ve only read jjk0, besides that literally all of my exposure has been via 3 video essays and fanfic… I basically got into the series backwards and tbh it’s an interesting experience…)

And tbh I agree with you more than not. Even though the view I have of the character is so fucking warped because jjk fanfic is too the gills filled with smut.

Because what I’ve gathered from the video essays and the few bits of fanfics that actually tried getting into his mind… is that the man is gd tired.

A god complex the size of the sun, that’s only ever been challenged once by one of the few people he ever formed a genuine connection with, and it was challenged as that person was leaving him. That incident may have motivated him to change, but that change was predominantly if not exclusively external, he didn’t really do much self reflection.

After Geto left, Gojo did better (became a teacher, warding Megumi, not letting Yuta be executed) but he didn’t work on being better (god complex, recklessness, belief that his way is the only way with no real consideration for the effects those decisions have on others)

He’s selfish, arrogant, and reckless, he doesn’t seem to take much of anything seriously and that may be a persona (again, I haven’t actually read jjk yet… the ending of mha did the characters, narrative, and audience so gd dirty I need to know how jjk ends so I set my expectations accordingly) but I can very much see this man never really developing his sense of empathy because he never really had any stakes… like he has some understanding, but the god complex and the fact people around him constantly reinforce it… he can’t put himself in other people’s shoes, there’s a detachment from reality that would read as delusional for anybody else, but he has spent his entire life being told he is the strongest with nothing ever being able to prove him wrong.

Than on the flip side of that god complex, honestly for a good while, and still sorta kinda… to me he reads as passively suicidal. (I know “Word of God” can be controversial regarding character analysis because of its absence in the base text) but the fact Gege’s rough rundown of Gojo’s daily schedule was basically “he sleeps for about 3 hours and spends the rest of his time working, his sweet tooth is actually somewhat practical as he uses sugar as a stimulant.” That’s not good for your noggin. Add the isolation caused by his status and his god complex, I see him coming to the conclusion that the only way he should die, is in battle.

And he did! Even if wasn’t in the “final sacrifice that ensures he becomes a legend” sort of way I think he would’ve hoped for.

But that also felt… right? (Certainly not fair, Gege openly admitting he kills off fan favorites for the shock value does dampen the possible emotional impact that could’ve been achieved… but I digress)

Every time Gojo fights, and I mean properly fights, he’s smiling, it’s a game to him, a chance to show off, to assert his dominance and reaffirm his status… so him dying so suddenly that his legs are still standing as his upper half falls to the floor, he’s lying there choking on his own blood as he bleeds out and Sukuna saying it “cleared his skies” (weird phrasing, but I think that’s a cultural/translation thing) it could’ve been a gut punch of a tragedy that amped up the stakes of the final conflict! The protagonists’ trump card is gone in a handful of panels and a flick of the wrist! He’s bleeding out on the ground as the big bad seems to reach a moment of genuine inner peace! But the backtracking and Gege’s history lessened that significantly

tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that Shonen Jump had something to do with it… the motivations for Gege’s writing choices are questionable to me (it feels spiteful and cheap) but they’ve been consistent until now, what changed?

Anyway it is… 5:45 am… I should be asleep, but I’m here vomiting character analysis based on partial information in your inbox… I hope you have a good day/night/whatever is appropriate for when you receive this

I hate that you had me read all that, but I couldn't agree more with most that you said (except maybe where you call him selfish and I lowk think geges killing system is fair and I like it a lot but🤷).

Anyways, I don't know how to really respond to this since you basically did all the talking lol (plus I'm tired from reading all that and just got out of school).

I do have a question tho. how did you start with jjk0??? Like how does something like that happen. Also you haven't watched the anime or anything😭???

Anyways, thanks for dropping this essay on me have a good day/night or life in case we never speak🩵

[ireallyliketalldarksultrymen]

MORE STUFF FOR THE TREEBARK COFFEE SHOP AU!! this time its centered around martyns roommates: jimmy and grian (ft. references to flower husbands)

had a lot of fun writing grian and jimmys banter!! gonna clean this up later, but for now, enjoy!

—

Jimmy had no plans today; classes were out of sight, and his shift at the library had thankfully been taken over by Pearl. (who he really has to thank later. She’s practically a saint with how much she checks out stacks of picture books for toddlers) 

He expected a lazy morning he’d start off by popping waffles in the toaster, sipping a cup of coffee while turning on the television. Maybe he’d start his comparative analysis essay on Hamlet and Macbeth that he’s been putting off for at least a week, the due date inching closer each day. What Jimmy wasn’t expecting was his roommate ripping the sheets off him at eight forty-six a.m.

Jimmy groaned, curling in on himself to replicate the warmth his blanket provided. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

He heard a sigh above him. “Tim, if you don’t wake up now, you’ll sleep in for the rest of the day.”

“So?”

Grian huffed. “So, you won’t make it to the florist shop before closing.”

Slowly, Jimmy unfurled his body, lying on his back. He brought up a hand and rubbed the dreariness away from his eyes, yawning as he did. “Why do we need flowers in the first place?”

Jimmy felt a dip in the bed next to him. “Martyn and I think the dorm’s too bland. Believe it or not, seeing white on every surface gets tiring.”

His eyes flutter open, shifting over to see Grian; he’s cross-legged, finger tapping his chin while his eyes are narrowed to the bedsheets. “Dahlia’s would do…maybe azaleas, too.”

Jimmy pushed himself, sitting hunched over. “Why can’t you go and get them?” he whined.

Grian looked up at him and shrugged. “I’m busy; got a Model UN meet later that’ll last a couple of hours.” Suddenly, the corner of his lips turned up into a smirk. “Besides, you’ll get to see that florist you’re into.”

And, oh, Jimmy hated him for that.

He fell back onto the bed, hands placed over his face as he groaned, immediately feeling a surge of warmth grow on his cheeks. 

Grian snickered. “Honestly, Timmy, there’s no point in denying you’re pining over Saul. Sawyer? Skylar?”

“It’s Scott,” Jimmy said, muffled behing his hands. “And I’m not into him. At all.”

Grian elbowed his side. “Denial is a river in Egypt—“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence—“

“Oh, c’mon! Practically everyone we know is aware you’re head over heels.”

Jimmy removed his hands from his face, nose scrunched as he stared at the ceiling. “Sure.”

“Oh-ho-ho, I have a list!” Grian cracked his knuckles. “Well, there’s me, Martyn, Skizz, Cleo, Cub, Iskall—“

“Waitwaitwait—“ He turned over. “Skizz and Cleo I understand, but how do Cub and Iskall know?”

“Whatever’s said in Model UN, stays in Model UN.” He crossed his fingers over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

Jimmy huffs, practically deflating. “Okay, so I might be excited to see him—but that doesn’t mean I’m in love with him!”

The blonde raised his eyebrows. “Don’t lie to yourself, Tim,” he deadpanned, “you and I both know the only reason you’ve been learning different types of flowers is to impress him.”

“I—“

“And I’ve seen the sketches of hydrangeas on random papers around this room. You’ve got some weird ways of flirting.”

Jimmy squawked. “It isn’t flirting!”

“Sure it isn’t.”

“Can’t a guy want to make friends?”

“Did you teach yourself the different methods of brewing coffee to befriend Martyn?” Grian shook his head.

“Really, Timmy, there’s not an excuse from you that’ll convince you’re not attracted to, love-struck, head-over-heels—“

“Okay, okay, I get it—“

“Hung up on—“

“Grian.”

“Obsessed with—“

“Grian!” Jimmy reached to swat at the other, but he only cackled and dodged.

“And I thought Martyn and Ren were bad.” He shook his head, getting off the bed. “Welp, have fun with Stuart!” And before he could correct him, Grian slid out of his room.

Jimmy sighed, rubbing the heels of palm against his eyes. He looked at his alarm clock, which read eight fifty-five. The flower shop was going to open soon, and he really wanted to see Scott.

He heard the jingle of his coming from his left, door opening slightly. Grian’s face peeked through the crack.

“By the way, don’t forget to tell Sloan your knowledge on annuals and perennials. I’m positive he’ll love that.”

Jimmy groaned as the door clicked shut, closing his eyes for a moment.

Today was going to be a long day.

[dyke-will-graham]

My list of songs so Hannigram coded it’s insane and the lyrics that make them so:

Salt in the Wound- Boygenius

‘You put salt in the wound, and a kiss on my cheek. You butter me up and you sit down to eat’

‘Neck full of mockingbirds all calling your name…I’m gnashing my teeth like a child of Cain’

I’m Your Man- Mitski

‘You’re an Angel, I’m a dog. Or you’re a dog and I’m you’re man. You believe me like a God, I destroy you like I am.’

‘I’m sorry I’m the one you love, no one will ever love me like you again so when you leave me I should die. I deserve it don’t I?’

Famous Last Words (an Ode to Eaters) - Ethel Cain

‘Look at me baby, dead in my eyes. It’s the end of our holiday, but it isn’t goodbye. Carry me with you all of the time.’

‘Eat of me baby, skin to the bone. Body on body until I’m all gone. But I’m with you inside.’

It Will Come Back- Hozier

All I’m gonna say is first verse is Hannibal POV, second is Will POV talking to eachother I could write a damn essay on this song and Hannigram

Shrike- Hozier

‘The words hung above, but never would form. Like a cry at the final breathe that is drawn. Remember me love, when I am reborn as the Shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn.’

‘Had no idea on the ground i was founded, oh that goodness is gone with you now. Then I met you, my virtues uncounted. My goodness is goin with you now.’

‘Back to the hedgerow where the bodies are mounted’

Abbey- Mitski

‘I am hungry, I have been hungry, I was born hungry, what do I need?’

Butchered Tongue- Hozier

This one I think is Will when he married Molly and settling into his new life but still looking for Hannibal in everything.

UPDATE:

Talk- Hozier

Once again getting into the Greek mythology themes and Hannigram parallels. Orpheus and Eurydice as Will and Hannibal haunts me.

‘I’d be the immediate in Eurydice, imagine being loved by me.”

Paralleled with the scenes of Hannibal and Wills seperate “I forgive you”.

Me and My Husband - Mitski

‘At least in this lifetime we’re sticking together.’

This is a little cracky, but this song reminds me of the way Hannibal and Will are chasing potentials and scenarios where they can stay together. Teacups and all that and yes the world is on fire but Hannibal and Will are together so it’s okay.

Breezeblocks- alt-j

Enough said.

NFWMB - Hozier

‘Give your heart and soul to charity. Because the rest of you, the best of you Honey belongs to me.’

The possessiveness of Hannibal and Will over eachother is insane, we know this. And I think people forget that Will is just as bad as Hannibal about it. (Just see any interaction between Bedelia and Will for evidence)

Salvatore- Lana Del Rey

“The summers wild and I’ve been waiting for you all this time. I adore you can’t you see you were meant for me?”

“Catch me if you can…dying at the hand of a foreign man, happily.”

Once More to See You- Mitski

“But with everybody watching us, our every move. We do have reputations, we keep it secret, won’t let them have it.”

“If you would let me give you pinky promise kisses then I wouldn’t have to scream your name.”

Televangelism- Ethel Cain

No lyrics in this one, just piano and the sound of me crying softly. This song is EVERYTHING the Primavera scene was in Dolce. Please listen. The slow build, the melodic flutter of a heartbeat the rise and ascension when they see each other and smile at one another, the acceptance of fate, the knowledge of love. “You and I have begun to blur.”

anything - Adrienne Lenker

“I don’t wanna be the owner of your fantasy I just wanna be a part of your family.”

Savior Complex- Phoebe Bridgers

“Drift off on the floor, I drag you to the shore. Sweating through the sheets you’re gonna drown in your sleep for sure. Wake up and start a fire in our one room apartment but I’m too tired to have a pissing contest, all the bad dreams that you hide show me yours I’ll show you mine.”

“Baby you’re a Vampire, you want blood and I promised I’m a good liar with a savior complex.”

Pre-Mizumono to Post-Fall Hannigram can be found everywhere in this song.

OKAY OKAY THATS IT IF YOU STAYED THIS LONG THANKS IF YOU WANT MORE HANNIGRAM LISTEN TO MY PLAYLIST ITS CHALK FULL OF ANGST

[minnie--verse]

Pen Pals — A Park Sunghoon Fic

!!PART 1!!

Summary: you, Ren, are a college student, taking what you would be a normal composition class—until you’re assigned a penpal with the professors’s later class. What happens when you fall for someone you know.. but don’t know.

pairing: Sunghoon x f!reader(Ren)

genre: strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: possible angst/comfort, slow burn.

general warnings: College student!mc, slow burn, love square(between two ppl), swearing, possible adult content in future chapters.

word count: ~3.4k

chapter content: mentions of food, first meets, college lectures, and a silly bff:)

author's note: i reaaaallly suck about posting huh… oh well ig. I’m gonna be real quick about uploading this one while I have the mindset for it…

Please enjoy this little corner of my mind<3

!!this is NOT proof read!!

thx for reading!

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The tiny desk attached to your squeaky seat was pissing you off, the bright, fluorescent lights humming only amplifying the annoyance wracking in your mind. The clock on the wall ticks slowly, reminding you that it’s only 8:05 AM. The professor’s voice drones on about the thesis statements, but your mind is foggy, still walking up from the late night before. Your eyes feel heavy, and you can’t help but wonder why you signed up for an 8:00 AM class in the first place.

Ren, you tell yourself, this is necessary. You know you need to have some sort of English class to graduate, but right now the idea of analyzing other student’s essays feels like an impossible task. You glance around the room, noticing the other students, some furiously taking notes, others looking just as tired as you are. The professor, oblivious to the collective lack of enthusiasm, scribbles something on a whiteboard.

“...and that’s why I thought it would be interesting for us to connect with another group,” the professor says, his voice pulling you back into the present. You blink, trying to focus as he continues. “This semester, you will be writing to someone anonymously in my other composition class. Each penpal would be random, and will take up 25% of your final grade for exchanging letters throughout the semester.”

Great. Just what you needed. Another thing to add to your already overflowing list of homework assignments and to-dos. You can't help but frown, a sense of dread washing over you. The idea of writing to a stranger, even anonymously, feels like an unnecessary burden. Why can this be an optional assignment? Or better yet, why can't you just… sleep through this part?

”Remember,” the professor’s voice cuts through your thoughts, “this is a chance to really connect with someone. Think of it as an opportunity to engage in meaningful dialogue with someone you may not have chosen to speak to normally.”

Meaningful dialogue… sounds like something you’re not going to get from this. Instead, you imagine a semester of cringing every time you have to sit down and write a letter, trying to think of something—anything—worth saying to someone you don't even know.

The professor continues explaining the details, but you’ve already tuned out. You’re thinking about how you’re going to manage to write these letters on top of everything else. How you’re going to have to come up with things to say to someone you don’t even know. It all feels like too much. You sigh softly, leaning back in your chair, and stare at the blank notebook in front of you, wishing you were anywhere else but here.

”To get you started,” The professor says with a smile that you find entirely too cheerful for a Monday morning, “I’ve prepared a prompt for your first letter. It’s a suggestion to help break the ice, so don’t feel like you have to follow it exactly. But it might give you a good starting point.”

The screen at the front of the lecture hall illuminates and it reads.

“Write about a time that recently made you feel alive, a small moment in time, or something more significant--just be honest. It will help break the ice.”

You let out a quiet sigh. It’s not the worst prompt ever, but it still feels like a forced effort to bond over something personal with someone who’s just as much a stranger as the person sitting next to you on the campus bus.

You sit there, staring at a blank piece of paper in front of you. Around you, the other students were starting to write, some scribbling furiously, and some, like you, were hesitating. The professor has settled into his desk, giving everyone time to get started on their first letter.

You change around, half-hoping that the right words would just come to you if you sit there long enough. But the longer you wait, the more you feel like you’re just stalling. With a small sigh, you pick up your pen and start writing. Trying not to think too hard about it.

Dear You,

I’m not sure how to begin this, but I guess I’ll start with the prompt we were given. Something that made me feel truly alive recently… Honestly, nothing truly jumps out of me, but I guess there was one moment a few weeks ago.

I was walking through the park near campus, and it was one of those perfect days where the weather is just right--warm sun, cool breeze, you know? I found this spot under the tree on the east side of the park near the water fountain and sat down with a book, planning to read for a while. But instead of diving into the story, I just… sat there. I let the sun spots through the leaves soak into my skin, watched the trees rustle, and for a few minutes, I didn’t think about anything at all.

It was like everything slowed down, and for the first time in a while, I felt completely present. I could hear the faint laughter of kids playing in the distance, the soft rustle of the wind through the trees and the steady rhythm of my own breathing.

It wasn't some grand epiphany or anything but in that moment, I felt alive--like really alive. I don't know how else to describe it.

Anyway, that's my something I suppose. I guess I’m curious to hear what yours is. Looking forward to hearing from you.

Talk to you later--From Sunny.

You stop writing and look down at what you’ve just put on paper. It feels kind of personal to be sharing with a stranger, but then again, maybe that was the point of the prompt. You close the letter, fold it up and write your alias on the outside of the envelope, handing it to the professor as you leave class.

When you walk out into the lecture hall, you feel a mix of relief and nervousness. The first letter is done, but now you have to wait and see what kind of person you’ll be writing to for the rest of the semester. Just don't overthink it, everything will be fine, and maybe you’ll even make a friend out of it.

As you leave the lecture hall, your mind is still lingering on the letter you just wrote. The words feel like they’ve taken something out of you, as if sharing something tha small, peaceful moment tinder the tree was more intimate than you intended. You shake your head, trying to brush it off, but the thought keeps nagging at you.

Why did you write that? You could have picked something less personal, something that wouldn’t make you feel so exposed. Now, someone out there--some random student that you’ve never met before in your life--knows this quiet little detail about your mind and memories. You sigh, trying to push the thoughts away as you head out of the building.

Your feet carry you automatically in the firstion of the park, the one you mentioned in the letter. You don't really plan on going there, but the memory of that quiet afternoon had drawn you in. You watch your feelings move over the pavement, avoiding cracks and stepping over fallen leaves, completely absorbed in your own thoughts.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad? You think. Maybe this pen pal thing will actually be a good way to connect with someone in a way that’s different from all the shallow interaction you’re used to. Or maybe you’re just kidding yourself, trying to make the best of something that’s bound to be awkward.

Lost in your musing, you don't notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. Your shoulder crashes into something solid, jolting you out of your mind. You stumble a step, startled, and look up to see who--or what--you’ve run into.

“Ah, sorry--” you start to say, but your voice falters as you look up and see who you’ve bumped into.

He’s tall, with dark hair that falls just above his eyes, and he’s looking down at you with an expression that’s somewhere between indifferent and tired. He doesn't say anything, just stares at you like he’s waiting for you to explain, but also like he doesn’t really care enough to demand one.

You freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do. The words you were about to say evaporate in your throat, leaving you with nothing but the realization that you’ve just ran face first into someone who probably isn’t thrilled about it.

“Sorry, again,” you mumble out, feeling small under his intense expression. You nod your head at him and step around him, eager to escape his awkward encounter, but his gaze keeps you rooted to the spot for a second longer.

He gives you a tight lipped smile, one corner upturning with an unreadable expression. For a split second, you think he’s going to say something, but instead he gives you an imperceptible nod and steps aside, allowing you to pass. His eyes linger on you for a moment before he continues on his way, not looking back.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and quickly continue down the bath, your heart beating a little faster than before. As you walk away, you can't help but glance over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of him disappearing into the crowd.

Shaking your head, you try to refocus on your original destination, but your thoughts keep circling back to the brief encounter. Who was he? And why did it feel like he looked right through you like glass, even in that split-second exchange?

As you reach the park, the familiar sights and sounds start to calm your nerves, but the memory of the bump still lingers at the edges of your mind, intertwining with your thoughts of the letter you just wrote. You find the tree, the one you wrote about, and sit down beneath it, just as you did that day.

— — — — — — — — —— — — — — — —

The guy walks through the campus with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he weaves through the crowd. The earlier encounter with that girl still lingers in his mind, a faint annoyance prickling at the back of his thoughts. He didn’t even catch her name, but there was something about the way she looked at him—wide-eyed and apologetic—that stuck with him more than he’d care to admit.

He steps into the Composition class, his usual indifferent expression masking the mild annoyance he feels about being here. The class is a requirement, not something he chose willingly. He would rather be anywhere else, but he knows he doesn’t have much of a choice if he wants to keep up his GPA.

As the professor begins to speak, his attention drifts. He’s always found this class tedious—too much focus on sharing and connecting with people he has no interest in getting to know. He just wants to get through the semester and move on. But when the professor starts explaining the new assignment, his ears perk up, and a frown creases his forehead.

“Each of you will be assigned an anonymous pen pal from my earlier class,” the professor says, scanning the room with a smile that he finds a bit too enthusiastic. “You’ll be exchanging letters for the rest of the semester, starting with a response to a prompt that’s already been given.”

He bites back a groan. The last thing he needs is to waste time writing letters to some random stranger. He can already imagine the kind of forced, overly sincere nonsense this assignment is going to generate. But there’s no point in complaining—it’s not like he has a choice.

“Here,” the professor’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and he looks up, realizing he’s being handed an envelope. “This is your pen pal assignment. You’ll be exchanging letters with a student from my earlier class.”

He nods curtly and takes the envelope, noticing the name on it: Sunny. The ink is a soft purple ink, and the font is small, cursive, and neat—definitely a girl. He sighs inwardly, already anticipating some overly cheerful or sentimental nonsense about love making people feel alive. But, 25% of his grade is a big chunk. So he unfolds the letter and begins to read it.

The words inside aren’t exactly what he expected. There’s something honest and straightforward about the way she describes her moment in the park. It’s simple, unpretentious, and somehow resonates with him more than he cared to admit. He pauses, almost feeling what she was describing, even if he’s reluctant to acknowledge it.

He taps his pen against the desk, considering how to respond. He doesn’t want to write something superficial, but he also doesn’t want to spill his guts to a stranger. After a few moments of deliberation, he starts writing.

Dear Sunny,

Your letter caught me off guard. I honestly was expecting to read something about falling in love and whoever they were to make you feel like you were alive, but your little moment of clarity in the park reminded me of something similar.

It was late—past midnight, I think—and the city was dead, completely silent. It was like that silence when the snow had blanketed everything, kind of muffling the unusual sounds. I was walking though campus to my apartment after spending the evening at work, and took a detour through a small side street.

It was snowing pretty heavily, but even with the large snowflakes falling it felt like everything paused. The streetlights were orangey in contrast to the weather, and it was completely still. No one was out, and I guess for a second it felt like the entire city belonged to me.

I stopped walking and just stood there by the café on 6th, letting snow accumulate on my shoulders and soaking my backpack while my cheeks pricked with pain form being outside too long. It felt like I was kind of waiting for something to happen I guess but nothing came.

So I suppose what I’m saying is that understand your little blip in time. The moments where things are quiet, or seemingly amplified, and then posing some kind of clarity. Maybe I’m talking nonsense but if I read your words right then maybe the professor knew we’d understand one another.

or maybe I’m just an idiot.

We’ll see.

Talk to you soon. -- Snow.

He rereads the letter once before folding it and sealing it back in the envelope. His handwriting is a little rough, but it’s legible. He writes his chosen anonymous name on the front, feeling a slight pang of curiosity about this “Sunny” person and why they wrote what they did. He pushes the thought aside, deciding it doesn’t really matter.

As he hands the envelope to the professor at the end of class, He can’t help but wonder what he’ll get in response. But that thought is quickly buried as he leaves the classroom, his mind already moving on to the next thing on his list for the day.

— — — — — — — — —— — — — — — —

You tossed your bag onto the floor as you step inside your apartment, the comforting smell of whatever takeout your roommate ordered hitting you thes moment you walk in. Callie is already lounging on the couch, legs draped over the armrest, with her phone in hand. She glances up as you enter, eyes gently lighting up as she greets you with a smile before a small laugh escapes her.

“Beloved—how was class?” She says, noting the unenthusiastic face you’re wearing, “Judging by your face, I’d say today was interesting?”

You snort, kicking off your shoes and collapsing onto the couch next to her, “Interesting is definitely a way to put it. Annoying is another. My professor wants my comp class to write pen pals.”

Callie arches a brow, “Pen pals? What are we back in elementary school? Should we pass notes under the desk with glitter pen too?”

”That’s my thoughts, exactly,” You retort, grabbing a piece of bread from her takeout and munching on it without thought, “It’s a semester long assignment worth 25% of my grade. We have to write them anonymously to his other comp class. It kind of just feels like busy work and an excuse to make people come to class.”

Callie grins, rolling over to face you, “So, did you pour your heart out in some tragic ode to life’s fleeting moments? Or did you just draw your buddy a stick figure and call it a day?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands, “Neither,” you sigh, “more like I enlightened myself about how little I want to be writing anonymous letters to strangers. I wrote about that day in the park. The one where I was supposed to be reading but ended up zoning out for hours under that tree?”

You peek through your fingers to see Callie looking at you with a mixture of laughter and thoughtfulness, “Ah, the day you turned into a sun worshiping lizard… sounds absolutely riveting.” Callie laughed.

”Yeah well, reptile or not, it was peaceful.” You say, finishing the bread in your hand before settling into the couch, “Anyway—I wrote about that and I guess it wasn’t the worst think I could’ve shared. At least I was honest and stuck with the prompt we were given.”

Callie’s head tilted at her upside down smile of amusement and confusion overtook her, “If you were honest you would have admitted to the sunburn you got after falling asleep.”

You roll your eyes again, but there’s a smile tugging at your mouth, “I didn’t fall asleep, I was just meditating.. with my eyes closed.”

”Sure, sure,” she says waving you off, “So you dazzled your little buddy with your deep existential musings. What else happened?”

You think back to the letter, to the way you had tried to describe that feeling of being completely in the moment. Then, your mind drifts to the encounter in the park, the way you’d bumped into that guy with the dark hair and unreadable expression. The memory makes your cheeks warm, though you’re not sure why.

“Well, I wrote the letter in class, handed it in, and then headed to the park to see if I could relive the moment I wrote about,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual. “But on my way there, I accidentally bumped into some guy. Tall, dark hair, brooding vibes—the whole package.”

Callie’s eyes light up with interest. “Brooding vibes, huh? Sounds like your type.”

You shoot her a look. “My type? Since when do I have a type?”

“Since always,” she says with a grin. “You know you’re drawn to the mysterious, emotionally unavailable types.”

You groan, half in exasperation, half in embarrassment. “He wasn’t even that interesting. He just stared at me like I was some kind of freak, and then he walked away. End of story.”

Callie laughs, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Sounds like you made quite the impression. Maybe he’s secretly pining for you now, writing tragic poetry about the girl who bumped into him in the park.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, though the thought would be cute if fate truly worked like that. “He probably forgot about me the second I walked away.”

Callie shrugs, still smiling. “Or maybe he’s out there somewhere, wondering who the mysterious girl was, who bumped into him and then vanished into campus. You never know, Ren. Life’s full of surprises.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“That’s why you love me,” Callie says with a dramatic hair flip. “Now, go get changed. We’re watching that show tonight, and I’m not letting you back out of it.”

You sigh dramatically, but you can’t deny that the idea of curling up on the couch with Callie and a bad movie sounds like the perfect way to unwind. “Fine, fine. But only if you promise not to get mad when I talk through the whole thing.”

“No promises,” Callie says, grinning wickedly. “But I’ll try.”

As you head to your room to change, you can’t help but replay the day’s events in your mind—the letter, the guy in the park, and Callie’s teasing words. Life is full of surprises, she said, and maybe she’s right. Maybe this pen pal thing will turn out to be more interesting than you thought.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

ending note —

*I am so so so so excited for this one chat.*

Sorry i’m in and out of writing, sometimes the lack of prompts make it hard to keep writing. I also started school for cosmetology and I work so finding time to write is hard. I will post this one more regularly!

I love you all and think you for reading my little corner of tumblr<3

[duckietiewritestoo]

Stressed out (Robert Fischer x Reader)

I had no idea what I was writing with this. I just wanted to toy with the concept of being stressed out with Robert Fischer. I hope you like it. 

WARNING: Cheesy

(Credits to original creator of the gif)

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

I put my head down on the desk. My eyes watched the pen roll back and forth on the desk. I needed this break, so I put my head down and began to push the pen back. My fingers ached from doing writing all day. It was impossible to hold my hand open for long. My muscles were cramped from clenching a pen for endless hours. Sweat lingered in between my fingers. My hands were cold and clammy, exhausted from writing on paper. 

The desk in the bedroom was tucked away in the corner. The window was right next to it, providing perfect lighting for when I worked at home. Robert was in bed reading a book. He arrived from work early and got to relaxing immediately, dressed in loose but casual clothes he rarely wore. I saw him from the corner of my eye. I was jealous he got to relax while I did some work. He was C.E.O of Fischer-Morrow, the biggest energy company and superpower in the world. I managed to persuade him not to break up the empire his father built. I also managed to encourage him to leave it to the hands of better men while he pursued whatever it is he wanted to do.

And it was working out for him.

Me? Not so much. I had too much work on my hands, not enough time. Drifting apart from Robert seemed likely. I didn’t want that to happen. I had to get this thesis done by the end of the week. It was a 5,000 word requirement on the subconscious and how it works when we’re sleeping. I was analyzing dreams, how they form and why. My own essay was putting me to sleep. Ironic. 

“How’s it going?” His questions snapped me out of my daze. It took me a moment to process what he said. 

“Shut up,” I answered, smiling. “If I had a pillow, I’d throw it at your face for that comment. But you’re lucky I’m at the desk.” My cheek squished against the hard wood of the desk. I got a chance to see Robert’s pretty smile. Robert laughed, tilting his head.

“You’re stressed, I can tell,” he replied. Robert closed his books. He pulled down the covers and patted the space next to him. “Join me for a bit to relax, yes?” I huffed.

“No,” I said. He sighed. 

“(Name), we’ve been over this. You’ve denied my offer to help support you. You can’t keep stretching yourself out like this. If you’re going to work, at least allow me to be a good man and let you relax.” I groaned, although it was more like a whine. I slipped out of the chair, falling limp on the floor. I was squished against the carpet. It smelled a bit funny, like feet. We really needed to get this cleaned. 

“What are you doing?” Robert asked, laughing.

“I’m trying to get to you,” I mumbled face down into the carpeted floor. I whined, stretching out my fingers. I wanted him to carry me. “But I’m so tired, Robert!” I wasn’t complaining, not really. The covers shifted as Robert moved out of bed. He walked over to where I was laying. His hands grabbed my waist first before he hoisted me onto my feet. He kissed my forehead gently.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he whispered, completely scooping me up in his arms. I groaned, putting my head on his shoulder. I inhaled deeply. The rich cologne Robert always wore to work lingered. It was a sweet smell, made to have a soft side to not sting the nose.

Robert carried me and placed me down in the bed. I sunk into the mattress and rolled onto my side, carrying the blanket with me. That got a chuckle out of Robert, who pulled back the covers. The bed weighed down as he sat next to me. 

“Seems you’ve gained a little,” I teased.

“You cut me deep, darling,” he answered. Robert mockingly put his hand over his heart. I scoffed. I hurt him? Seriously? I giggled, resting my head on his shoulder. Robert snaked an arm around my waist, hoisting me up in bed.

“You know I don’t mean it,” I muttered, kissing his cheek. “But, I’m just saying, we’re getting older and our metabolism is slowing down, so take it easy on the dessert.” Robert laughed.

“Oh wow, so I guess you’re really not stressed out,” he replied, kissing my cheek. “You have the energy to poke at me but not the energy to finish your work? Tsk, (Name), are you pretending to be stressed out?” I pouted.

“I’m not faking it,” I replied, curling my lower lip. “I really am stressed.”

“When you say it like that, I don’t believe you,” he teased, nudging my side. “So, are you faking it?” 

“No. And I can prove it,” I said. 

The next moment was pure ecstasy. I was hoping to argue more, make my point like I said I was going to do, but Robert leaned down and kissed me. The moment was surprisingly romantic and slow. It was like time stopped. My heart pounded. The thudding was the only thing I could hear.  His lips were soft, pressed against mine. I closed my eyes. Robert took the lead as always. My body reacted positively as I kissed him back. His hands were on my cheeks, carefully and gently caressing my face. I didn’t feel as stressed as I did before. It was like his touch erased the tension I had.

“How was that?” he whispered. “Are you still feeling stressed?”  I blinked a few times, still processing the kiss. He broke it off so soon.

“No,” I muttered. Robert chuckled, pressing his lips against my briefly. My heart pounded. It was so quick, yet it lingered. My cheeks were bright red.

“Then I assume you don’t need me to help you relax?” he teased. I pouted in response. I just wanted to stay in his arms. Robert laughed, smiling ear to ear. “Yes, I know what you’re going to say. You can stay with me in bed a while longer.”