#such is the life of a classical studies major. i should probably go back to reading thucydides now oops | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sannasruins · 2 years ago

Text

my letters to you

Aizawa Shouta x reader

type: fluff to angst

warning: major character death, non-descriptive violence, grief

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, i'm already working on the next part, i just wanted to get this out since it's already at this length, this is probably the saddest thing i have ever written, sorry in advance. reader is referred to with she/her pronouns

word count: 4.7k

As a Pro Hero, you had known since your school days, the job held the risk of one day not letting you return home. While it was a scary thought, devoting your life to a job that very well may take it, you had no doubt in your mind that being a hero was what you were meant to do. So, from a very young age, you had decided you wouldn’t ever let yourself get too close to someone, especially not your fellow hero’s in-training, so you wouldn’t have to suffer the grief of losing them, and they not have to suffer loosing you, if it ever came down to it. That was, until you met Aizawa Shouta in your first year at UA high school.

He sat two chairs behind you your first year of school, the quiet one in his loud friend group, and though many people didn’t seem to see it, you saw how incredibly kind that boy way. You saw in him what you hoped others might see in you, that he was truly born to be a hero. You decided, looking at that dark-haired boy who sat two seats behind you your first year at a high school for heroes, that he was going to be someone that you let get too close.

You spent your school days studying and training with your peers, and the evenings after school walking home with Shouta, and on those trips to and from school, you slowly fell in love with him, and him with you, not that you were aware.

The two of you would often walk home as the sun was setting, along the river, on lookers would see the couple, bathed in the orange light. The girl, a large smile on her face as she talked excitedly about nothing in particular, looking forwards towards the sunset and their destination, and the boy, a small, barely noticeable smile on his, looking at her as she moved forwards with a bounce in her step.

Walks home slowly morphed into afterschool dates, not that either of you had the courage to actually call them that, often stopping by things like bakeries and crepe stands. On your first visit to a crepe stand, you ordered the cult classic strawberries and cream, and much to your disgruntlement, Shouta ordered dark chocolate on dark chocolate, your face taking on an expression of disbelief as he took the first bite of his and seemed to genuinely enjoy it. He mistook your expression, and thinking you wanted to try his crepe, shyly offered you a bite. Feeling bad for judging the sweet boy standing next to you, you took a tentative bite from the crepe, maybe it wouldn’t taste as bad as you thought it would! Maybe now that you’re older you’ll enjoy dark chocolate more than when you last tried it! Alas, dark chocolate has remained the same, and so has your taste, as you make a displeased face and after swallowing, stuck out your tongue in disgust. He let out a little laugh at your expression, and asked you if you didn’t like dark chocolate, and you replied that no, nobody with normal taste buds should like dark chocolate, it tastes like dirt! He chuckled again and the two of you started back on your trek home, you finding solace in your normal and tasty crepe, and every few minutes for the rest of the walk, adding more reasons and defamation to dark chocolate. Even though you were dissing something he enjoyed, he didn’t seem to mind, as he listened with a small smile on his face, eating his crepe and watching you.

The two of you often frequented an arcade that was on your path home, having almost weekly competitions on who could beat who’s high score, Shouta never seemed to the comparative type but when it was just you two, you could see a rare grin forming on his face as the levels increased in difficulty and he got closer and closer to the besting number, the glint in his eye wasn’t just from the reflection of the arcade game’s screen, and it gave you butterflies.

On the last day before summer break, your second year of school, you asked Aizawa Shouta to meet you behind the school building after classes had let out. It wasn’t too strange that the two of you were meeting after school, since you usually walked home together, but why behind the school instead of in front by the entrance gates was confusing to him.

You were waiting there for him, with a small white box in your hands, and as he approached you, you bowed and put your arms out, presenting him with the little package. “Aizawa Shouta,” your voice trembled but you continued on, “will you please go out with me?”. You felt him take the box, so you let go and quickly straightened yourself, but did not raise your eyes from the dirt you were standing on, too nervous to meet his. It was quiet for a long time, and your heart began to sink at the prospect of rejection. You finally looked back up at him, tears starting to sting in your eyes, only to have your eyes land on a Shouta Aizawa whose face was so red it looked as if it may start to glow.

“Are… are you blushing?” You questioned him, fear tinged the edges of your words. His eyes shot up to meet yours, only for a second before returning to the ground, and he gave a shy nod of his head.

“I,” his voice caught in his throat, like it wasn’t ready to yet talk, “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Is that a no?” disappointment heavy in your tone.

“No!” he shouted, and then, looking as if his sudden outburst was a surprise even to him, he continued, “I mean, I think you’re really cool, and smart, and I really enjoy hanging out with you, and I think you’re so pretty.” As he lists his compliments towards you his volume lowered in embarrassment, his last word being barely above a whisper.

“So,” he quickly started again, voice returned now to a normal volume, “I would like to go out with you, l/n y/n.”

The tension you didn’t know had built up in your body suddenly released, stress of rejection melting off of you and into the earth below. You let out a shaky laugh, tears that had been caught in your eyes spilling over the brim and down your cheeks, your throat slowly untightening from the adrenaline. “Thank you, I’m so glad.”

“Oh no nono,” he said worriedly, taking a step towards you, and reaching out an unsteady hand to brush a tear away with his knuckle. “Please don’t cry, why are you crying?”

You laughed, “I really don’t know,” and you grinned, “I’m just so happy.”

He blushed and looked away, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck, “yeah, me too,” he murmured.

You two started the walk home from the back of the school, your hand shyly reaching for his.

“What’s in this, anyways?” he asked in reference to the little white box you had presented him earlier.

“Oh,” you blushed, embarrassed again, “its homemade dark chocolate.” He looked down at the box in his free hand, and a smile played at his lips.

That day on lookers would see the couple, bathed once more in the orange light, next to the slow flowing river. The girl, a large smile on her face as she talked excitedly about nothing in particular, looking forwards towards the sunset and their destination, and the boy, a small, barely noticeable smile on his, looking at her as she moved forwards with a bounce in her step, but this time, they were hand in hand.

Having yet joined a hero’s agency to intern at since Aizawa hadn’t either, when you were offered a place at His Purple Highness’ agency along with him and your mutual friend, you jumped at the opportunity to have even more time with your boyfriend. The two of you had kept your relationship relatively quiet in fear of it affecting the opportunities you both would be offered in the future, not wanting to be barred from working along one another. It was the middle of your second year when one of Aizawa Shouta’s and your friend, Oboro Shirakumo, was killed during your hero work studies. You were there with Shouta but had been knocked out by the Villain Garvey’s stock quirk and left to watch in dazed horror though foggy vision the violence that continued. It started to rain. You watched your beloved Aizawa fight the villain by himself, a boy who never thought he was meant for solo combat, doing what he must to protect the nursery school children, knowing he truly was the last wall between them and the villain. You watched him defeat Garvey, and as back up arrived, watched as he was congratulated on his victory, alone. Your barely conscious body had been picked up at that point, paramedics moving you towards an ambulance. You saw your Shota’s gaze follow a pointed finger, to where Oboro’s body had been removed from the rubble and gently placed into a body bag, already stained with cool blood, mixing with the wet ground under him. Rain had started to pour by then, the cold missiles stinging the skin of your face, it mingles with the warm salt of your tears. You desperately, and weakly, push away the medics trying to help you, and stumble towards him, standing in the freezing downpour. When you reach him, you throw your arms around him, and the two of you sink to your knees. You press his cooled face into the warmer skin of your chest, squeezing him tightly as your body gently shakes with unsure sobs. If he cried, you couldn’t tell, the two of you sat kneeling in the rain for a long time, long past the point of soaking you to the bone. Hizashi joins you two at some point, mourning in the rain together in a way no children should have to, and when told to move out of the rain, he speaks for the three of you in saying that the weather and your place in it was befitting of the occasion.

After the shocking death of your friend, Aizawa changed, he was still the boy you loved, but he poured more and more time and effort into solo training, not ever wanting to have to rely on others in combat. He got it into his head that he, someone with a non-combat based quirk, still had to be able to protect even his fellow combat based quirk heroes. He never wanted to be weak like he was that day in the rain ever again. He never wanted to lose anyone else.

You changed after Oboros death too, it brought back your dated mentality of not wanting to get too close to anyone, but you knew, if you distanced yourself from your sweet boyfriend, it would be one the gravest mistakes you ever made in your entire life. So, instead, you thought about your mortality, how much you missed your dear friend already, and how this very thing could happen to you too one day. You were okay with the idea of losing your life in battle, it held honor, you had accepted that long ago. Now knowing the other side of the coin, being the one left behind when someone dear departed while in battle, you knew you couldn’t do nothing.

So, you started writing letters to Aizawa Shouta, for the just incase. And every year or so, you would rewrite them, having them updated to the most recent you. You did that for quite some time.

You and Shouta experienced many first together. You graduated, watched him start his underground hero agency while staying to side kick under His Purple Highness, working up the ranks until you yourself were ready to set off on your own as a Hero. Your time as a sidekick had allowed you to slowly rise through the popularity ranks, and when you debuted as a hero, you already had your standing in the top 100. You and Shouta moved in together 3 years after graduating, never having broken up, you had just decided it would be important to establish yourselves as individuals before you moved in with one another. Bright eyes 21-year-olds, charging their way into the world, establishing yourselves among the hero ranks. A year later he proposed, it wasn’t at a fancy restaurant on the top floor of a hotel, or a big spectacle with all your friends and family there, instead it was in the warm orange light of the setting sun, on the walk home from visiting a crepe stand, not too much unlike the one you visited when you were in school. It was mid spring, and along the river, covered in a blanket of pink petals, he got down on one knee. The backdrop of sakura trees in full bloom, and before you, your beloved presenting you a lovely ring only he could have picked, that suited you so well, you were the happiest person alive. You lowered yourself down onto your knees as well, ignoring the looks of curious onlookers, and threw your arms around his neck, knocking him over into the grass. With tears of joy in your eyes, you took his face in your hands and peppered enthused kisses all over his face, his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose, his forehead, his chin, until you reached his lips. You pressed a lingering kiss to them, before pulling your head up, and meeting his eyes, “Yes, yes a thousand, a million times yes.”

He grinned back at you, and using the pads of his thumbs, wiped away the tears staining your cheeks, “thank you.”

Onlookers this time would see the happy couple, walking in the light of the setting sun, hand in hand, but this time around, she had a ring on hers.

At the ripe age of 24, the two of you tied the knot, the date was set to the day, 10 years ago, that the two of you had first met at the entrance ceremony of UA high school. He looked dashing in his best suit, and you looked ethereal in your dress as you walked down the aisle to meet him at the altar, both of you wearing face splitting grins. You were in the top 40 at that point in your career, and the media had a small field day with your wedding. The 34th ranked hero (y/h/n) and the elusive eraserhead were wed today at an exclusive venue, only close friends and family were invited! Read more to find out all the juicy gossip of the latest hero wedding.

After your wedding you moved out of your shared apartment and into a cute little two story in a residential area of town, with enough room for whatever the future may hold. You rewrote your letters for the last time in that house.

It was 13 months after the two of you got married, that it happened, a balmy May evening. Villain activity had been on the rise and stronger villains were appearing everyday. He wasn’t on the scene when it happened, he wasn't able to do the thing he trained so hard to do.

He had heard your call for backup over the radio, when you encountered an especially strong opponent, and had been rushing towards your location, tuning out the reports that were constantly being fed into his ear, as you were the only thing on his mind. When he was only 5 minutes away, there was an explosive sound, and the whole neighborhood began to shake, and in the distance he saw a plume of dust and smoke rising into the darkening sky.

You had been on the edge of being defeated, knowing that that was truly the end, and had decided to take the rising villain out with you. It had been in an abandoned warehouse in the business sector of the neighborhood, there probably wouldn’t be anyone around expect for you and the person you were fighting, you reasoned with yourself as you set your quirk off for the last time, making sure that if you go out, your last fight wouldn’t be one that you lost.

The dust had started to settle by the time Shouta arrived, there were other heroes and rescue teams already there, several of whom were mere moments away from providing backup, but they would have been too late even if you didn’t decide to be as rash as you were. Many were shifting through the rubble as he swung his head from side to side, looking for you, deluding himself that you would be among the heroes on top of the rubble, instead of under it. He didn’t see you.

Someone called out that they had found you, it was Hizashi, Shouta saw him cradling your broken and bloody form. A sound ripped from his throat, choked, horrified, bloodcurdling, and he rushed over to where his blond friend kneeled in the wreckage. Hizashi gently handed off your cooling form to his best friend, but remained next to him, as Shota murmured to you.

He pleaded for you to wake, for you to move, for you to open your eyes, god please just breath please. There was nothing you could do though, you weren’t there anymore, not really. He clung to you, and wept, voice growing hoarse, till his cries were nothing but shakes of his body. Eventually, medics had to take you away, and he watched, as they zipped your lovely body up in the disgusting black bag. He watched you be carried off, though the medics were treating your body with the utmost respect, he could not help but despise them for taking you away.

It was on the news when he got home, the tv having been left on. He carefully took off his shoes, stripped of his dusty uniform, and showered, going numbly through a routine he had established, which was missing an essential part, you. He dried and dressed, and made his way up to your bedroom, where he fell to his knees on your side of the bed, burying his face in the blankets you had slept in not even a day ago, inhaling the scent of you. He broke once more, realizing that soon, the smell would fade, and it would just be another memory he would unwillingly slowly forget to the passage of time. He fell asleep there, on the floor, after crying all the tears his body held and more.

He didn’t leave the house for days, remaining in your shared bed, cradling the small stuffed animal you had gotten as a present for yourself after graduating from UA, you smiley excuse being “for when you’re not here, I still need something to cuddle,” he had thought it was silly, maybe a little immature, but had never said anything on the matter. But now he held onto the small stuffed friend as if it was his only salvation in the horrible world he was forced to live in since you had left. He didn’t eat, he didn’t move, he just drifted in and out of painful consciousness.

Your funeral had come and gone, people and the media were shocked to see the lack of your doting husband at your wake. . After 4 days of no contact, Hizashi came by, and let himself in with the spare key you kept hidden under a rock by the entrance. Long ago, right after graduating from high school, you had told Hizashi that if you were ever to die in combat, to look for a construction paper covered shoe box in your closet, that it was for Shouta. When he asked you what it was, and why you had prepared something so morbid, you didn’t have much of a real answer to give him. “Please”, you had asked your blonde friend, “it’s something I started doing after Oboro… after oboro’s death. There’s so many things I never want Shouta to have to experience alone, without me.” He had nodded in acceptance of your words, and not wanting to focus on such a pessimistic topic on your graduation day, changed topics with a smile, going on about where the after party’s after party might be taking place.

He walked to your bedroom, “I’m coming in,” he announced as he swung the door open, though he didn’t receive a response. His heart twinged at the sight of his best friend, huddled under the comforter on your side of the bed, clutching a well loved stuffed animal. Though he had lost a friend, he couldn’t imagine the pain Aizawa Shouta was going though, it was as if the man that lay before him had lost a part of himself. A puzzle that will never again be able to be completed.

Hizashi sat on the edge of the bed, next to the owner of greasy ebony hair, which he ruffled. “You need to take a shower man, you know how y/n doesn’t like it when you let it get this dirty.”

“She’s gone.”

Oh, it hit him in the gut, the blonde flinched. She is gone, and she couldn’t ever come back either. The rest of their lives, they would have to live without the bright girl they had known for so long. They would keep on living, and she would not. They would have to remember her longer than they had known her.

“It hurts.” Hizashi said, “it hurts so bad, and it feels so unfair, and if there was anything I could do to undo this, to even take away the pain you’re feeling right now, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“But,” he continued, “but there’s not, there is absolutely nothing we can do to undo what has already been done. The only thing we can do is to live the way she would have wanted. Do you think she would have wanted you to lie in your shared bed, rotting away until you died? Do you think she would happily greet you at the gates of death if you let yourself end in that way?”

Shouta turned his head to look at his friend, dark eyes red and swollen from their endless flow of tears, that even now, dripped from them.

“Get up,” the blond stood and slapped the top of his thighs, “take a shower, brush your teeth, I’m going to go downstairs and cook something for us to eat.”

Shouta nodded, and slowly sat up, his hair falling into his face like a dark veil. He rose from the bed, and begrudgingly made his way to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror on his way. He looked haggard, stubble grown out, his heart hurt so badly at the thought of you seeing him like this, he decided he would shave too.

After his friend had left the room, Hizashi went towards the closet, feeling guilty about disturbing things the way you had left them, he tried his best to leave as much as he could untouched as he looked for the brightly decorated box he had been told about. He found it without much effort, tucked away in the very back of the top shelf, covered in cute scrapbooking paper and stickers, it really was quite the reflection of you, something you had made with such care and love. It hurt thinking about how you ever had to prepare this sort of thing in the first place, having been preparing for your own death since you all had been teenagers. He gingerly removed it from its place, and carried it downstairs to the kitchen with him, tucking it away to bring it up later, after he had gotten some food into his mourning friend.

He opened the fridge, revealing a tupperware of something preprepared, just needing to be cooked. He opened the lid of it, taking a whiff to see if it was still good or if it had gone bad in the time that has passed since it was made, it hadn’t. He washed and put the rice in its cooker before tossing the contents of the tupperware into a pan, frying it until it was done, and serving it with the fresh steaming rice.

Shouta came downstairs, the smell of your cooking hitting his nose, and for a few moments he forgot that you weren’t there, in your sunny kitchen, cooking one of your meals to share with him, a smile on your face as you greeted him entering. Instead of your smile greeting him, it was Hizashi, and Shouta lost his strength, gripping the doorframe as his slid to the ground, chest shaking in grief.

Hizashi quickly took the few steps that separated him and the crying man on the floor, sinking down to his level and grasping him by his arms, concern morphing his face.

“This,” a sob stopped him from continuing, “this is her cooking, this is,” sob “this is the last time I’ll ever be able to eat something she made. I’m,” sob “I’m going to have to live the rest of my life without ever going to be able to taste her food again.” His body convulsed with the strength of his sorrow.

They cried together on the kitchen floor for a while, until the food had completely cooled. Hizashi lead Shouta to the table, sitting him down in his chair before picking up their plates and placing them in the microwave, warming them back up, until they once more had steam rising from them.

He put the plate of food in front of your husband, placing fork in his hand, forgoing chopsticks for fear that Shouta would simply be too weak from his 4 days of laying in bed, forgoing food.

Aizawa Shouta scooped up a small bite of the meal sitting in front of him, tentatively raising the fork before placing it in his mouth. As soon as the flavors hit his tongue he started silently crying again. He slowly ate, trying to savor every bite, ignoring the salty taste of his own tears as he swallowed.

The blond watched him, while eating his own meal, tears came to his eyes as well, thinking about what his friend had said, this truly would be the last time he ate your cooking. Never again would he be invited over to your loving home, entering the warm environment you had made, and eating dinner with you and your friends. How you had loved to host little dinner parties for your friend group, those that you had known since your schooling days. He felt bad about being the only one of the group to get to eat your cooking one last time, so he took his time as well, wanting to enjoy it enough for everyone that wasn’t there with them in the room that was now cool and grey without your presence.

When Shouta was done, he pushed his plate to the side and laid his head on crossed arms, trying to control his breathing as he cried, trying to be thankful that he got to taste it one last time, instead of only sorrowful that that would be the last time he would ever taste it.

“Shouta,” Hizashi started after a while of silence, “I have something to give you.” He got up from the table and walked to retrieve where he had hidden the box, and then returning and placing it between the two of them on the table.

“This is from her, from y/n”

The dark-haired man looked up, bleary eyes landing on the colorful box. “What is it?” he questioned.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. Y/n just told me to give it to you if anything ever happened to her.” the green-eyed man answered.

Shouta reached out and opened the box, reviling its contents. Letters.

part two

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #boko no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader angst #fanfic #bnha aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #shota aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x reader angst #to be honest i have no idea if its spelt shouta or shota sorry if its spelt both ways in here i have no clue what the right way is

188 notes · View notes

bisexualbard-writes · 1 year ago

Note

For that trope kimchay challenge. My favourite trope is role reversal au (like for example Chay being mafia and Kim being ordinary person). My least favourite au is college au. I think it is mostly to do with me being no longer in school so I don't find this trope that appealing. Especially when it all revolves around being in school and dorms etc. Thank you for writing it. You are great writer and I like this challenge too.

OKAY so I've been thinking a lot about a college AU and how to make a kimchay college AU appealing to the post-college reader. I think college AUs usually focus on the things you've mentioned - classes, dorms, young adult social life and sex, etc.

But. That's not technically the purpose of college. The purpose of college is to figure out and get trained in whatever you want to do with your life.

From what I can tell from BL, universities there make you choose what you're majoring in when you first apply. In my world Chay chooses to go somewhere where he can take care of his generals first and then declare his major at the end of his second year.

When Kim first asked why Chay was studying music, he said he wanted to do it because it seemed fun. But by the end of Kinnporsche, I think Chay realizes he can't live on fun anymore.

Honestly he never could, which is why he said in ep. 1 something along the lines of "I don't think school can help us anymore" about trying to clear the impossible debt. I think he doesn't see a future in which they can keep dodging the loan sharks until he graduates, so why does it matter what he actually studies. There's a reason he shoots his shot with Kim, and it's because to an extent he's living like he's doesn't know how much time he has left.

Post show they've made it out from under the loan sharks... now they're just living under the thumb of the mafia. We know Chay is opposed to the dangers of the mafia, I think he'd probably resent the money he now has access to. But it does change the timeline for him. He knows he'll be able to afford tuition for all his years of college now, and that puts college back on the table as something valuable.

If he ever wants to completely separate himself from the mafia, that's going to mean being able to support himself independently. He knows what it is to be poor, and need to take out loans. He and Porsche were happy together when they didn't have money, of course, but he thinks they would have been even happier and less stressed if they hadn't had to worry about loan sharks at their door.

All that to say, he might still love music, but he might want to choose a field of study with more financial stability than music.

So after a year of being miserable in the compound he goes back to college, just doing his generals since he doesn't know yet what he wants to do with his life. And maybe somewhere in that first year he and Kim make up, and continue making music together. They grow to be so happy together

But when it comes time for Chay to declare a major, he and Kim end up fighting about it.

Kim thinks Chay should study music, because it's what he always wanted to study, and he's so good at it. But Chay thinks that maybe he should choose something "practical" instead. Business, or engineering, or computer science.

It's the classic passion or practicality conundrum everyone not born rich wrestles with at least a little bit.

Kim does not understand, they have the privilege of being rich why don't take advantage of it and follow their passions. He knows Chay doesn't like the maifa, but he sees Chay trying to pick something "practical" and a rejection of Kim himself. Because it's not practical to love and be with him if Chay is trying to break away from the family long term.

I don't know exactly how they'd resolve it. I think I'd like to see Chay take the practical studying. I'm always seeing media telling you to follow your dreams and it'll all work out alright - but the shows, movies, and books that proclaim that are all made by people who were capable of succeeding in following their dreams, and so are able to glorify and say that if you just want it hard enough and work yourself hard enough that it'll happen.

I want to focus on the joy and comfort of a quiet, stable life. I think Chay and Kim would like that too, eventually. But I think they'd have to work to get to a place where they realize that's an okay thing to want.

Anyway, this is less of an outline for a fic and more of a vibe, but I think it could be an interesting character study!

(send me a trope, maybe one you hate, and I'll attempt to kimchay it)

#kimchay #bard writes #ask game

34 notes · View notes

nightwingbb · 10 months ago

Note

What do you think Jon and Damian would pick for their college majors? Who’s more stressed out at the end of the semester?

thank you for this question, anon, because i have strong opinions on this!! strong to the point that in all of the college au's that i've written (or am writing 👀) damian and jon's majors are always the same, even if it's not mentioned and it just lives rent free in my head

damian is an animal science major with a pre-vet concentration. does it make more sense canonically that damian would probably work for and/or take over wayne enterprises and should therefore be majoring in business? yes. but he will forever be an animal science major (and eventually a veterinarian) in my head. "oh, but nightwingbb, he never shows any interest in being a vet, he just likes animals!" and to that i say one of my best friends from college hated science but loved animals, so she majored in animal science and now she loves her job as a vet tech so HA

jon is an education major. i know that in and out of canon, he's usually written as a journalism major, but i didn't want to make him a copy/paste of clark. plus, i was a journalism major in college, and i honestly couldn't see jon enjoying the major. since news is all digitized now, half of the required major courses aren't even on journalism anymore. i learned video editing, social media management, photoshop, basic web coding, etc. and i just couldn't imagine jon getting as into that as i am. after deciding he would Not be a journalism major, i actually struggled with what jon's major would be for a while when i first started writing navigating life back in 2020. i even posed the question here on tumblr asking for ideas because i was simply at a loss. then @liameowlia pointed out that jon is good with people, has a strong will to help, and radiates empathy and suggested i go from there. that, plus a fanfiction that i cannot remember ANYTHING about aside from the fact that it depicted jon as a teacher (literally don't even remember what the story was), led me to education major jon <3

apologies for the rant, anon, i know you probably didn't want a whole dissertation on WHY i chose these majors for the boys, but to answer your next question:

jon is definitely waaayy more stressed than damian come end of semester finals seasons. damian is haughty and overly confident and probably feels like if he studies for even just a few minutes, there's literally no way in hell that he won't pass his finals. not to mention that he's a classic rich kid who doesn't have that "if i have to retake this class, it'll cost me $3,000" stress hanging over his head lol

#damijon #jondami #this was a fun one to answer!#college damijon my beloveds

26 notes · View notes

slothpower-central · 3 months ago

Text

Rolling out the Red Carpet for the Cinema branch!!

Hello,hi, it's me that one person who makes the funny videos and thinks she can draw(she cannot) Inspiration hit me in the middle of my film studies course while watching Vertigo by Alfred Hitchcock and I thought "what if I made my own LCB branch where every sinner is based on a movie I've watched in my film class (and just general classic Hollywood cinema) and so I did it! The branch is currently VERY unfinished,as I add a new sinner each week for every film we watch in the class,so lemme introduce you to the guys that I've at least doodled so far(awful art incoming lol)

First up,we need a manager,or should I say,director(get it, because it's based on movies?) anyway here's Dorothy! If it wasn't obvious, she's based on the Wizard of Oz,She may or may not have come from the Outskirts and now she's running around with these sinners,and her little dog too! Oh and her red slippers(boots now,IG lol)? Those have a use, clicking her heels 3 times allows her to bring her sinners back to life!

Our guide is Glinda! Also based on Wizard of Oz,I have....not drawn her yet! But she is ultra hands off,she mainly communicates by sending Dorothy letters in bubbles,oh and did I mention she's a color fixer? ...yea I probably should have started with that

Now onto our actual sinners, don't ask me about major plot details about them,I haven't worked it out yet,

Sinner #1,This is Chaplin! Based on Modern Times by Charlie Chaplin,this guy is more of a fusion of the two main characters of the movie since uhm...neither of them have names and frankly their stories are both so intertwined that You could easily mix them together so here we are. They are the most comical of the sinners,I have described them as having a lot of cat like behaviors to a degree, and they are selectively mute(silent film lol) They have a white board they write on like it's Lethal Company and they have Heelys(mainly for the funny)

I haven't uhm.....finished sinner #2 yet because everytime I try to draw him my art style makes him look like the Pringles mascot lol but it's Kane! Kane is based on Charles Foster Kane from Citizen Kane by Orson Welles! Right now currently he's like "god I'm in a company of all women...AND CHAPLIN" He's rich like....richer than Hong Lu rich,he does seem to offhandedly mention something Rosebud and it seems almost like he's searching for it...wonder what that could be?(Btw go watch Citizen Kane, I'm not telling you what Rosebud is)

Finally out last Sinner at the moment: Sinner #3 Judy based on Judy from Vertigo! Yessir this is the reason for the branch, her source got my imagination spinning (she may or may not be mine and Amia's favorite atm of the branch) I would have made Scottie a sinner but......I hate his ass and need him exploded and not in the cute way(JUDYYYYYY YOU DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER GIRLLL) Judy is also 20x more fun as a character than Mr. "I'm gonna stare at women for 70% of my screentime" Honestly I could gush so much about her but I won't to keep this brief... essentially by the end of Vertigo Scottie convinces her to change everything about herself to turn her into his lost love/obsession Madeleine (ai know there's more too it but uhm....Go watch Vertigo, I'm not spoiling the movie)[PS, Ignore the doodle in the corner, that was from an idea that Amia's OC Tessie and Judy would get along well]

Tomorrow we'll actually have Sinner #4 who's gonna be based on someone from the movie Sunset Boulevard ( I don't pre watch these bc my attention span actually increases so much when I analyze movies for Limbus)

Anyway I'll keep updating you on the Cinema branch their tag is "LCB Cinema Branch" if you want everything in one place oh! And feel free to draw my lil guys if u want,just @ me or tag me or something. uhm don't ask about their weapons or colors or anything I haven't thought that far ahead yet lol

#slothpower #LCB cinema branch #limbus company oc #Amia's actually drawn Judy before but I wasn't gonna post that here I'll let them do it #If Limbus was more popular I'd so try and get extra credit for this like “look at me and how media literate I am”#I think I've made poor Amia watch more classic Hollywood cinema than they ever considered over this branch

7 notes · View notes

manynarrators · 8 months ago

Note

You should tell me about your Hazbin oc. Smiles.

@coronaryqueer | Please understand this is A Can Of Worms, and all can be poked and prodded @singthesongsofsin

Hellaina: She’s my scary snake lady! She’s Vox’s PA (though in truth more akin to a COO). Technically he owns her soul, but she thinks she got the much better deal out of it. She died in the early 1980s of a heart attack induced, in large part, but the whole… 1980s work culture. She is, all things considered, quite happy down in Hell! (She also despises Valentino).

Dia: Hellaina’s wife, and regular in cannibal town. She runs a butcher shop, because her actual skills in pathology aren’t… super useful here. In life she sold organs on the black market, and is a special sort beloved freak. Definitely some vibes of pastel whimsi-goth in that girl.

Jayden: Velvette’s PA. He was created to fulfill a joke originally. Vox has a snake PA, and one of my writing partners hc that Val also had a snake PA, co clearly Vel needed one too. He’s very young, like, died in the last five years and was an influencer in life (and still is in hell) sort of young.

Adelard: OLD. He was in the seminary until he had a bit of a crisis of faith, left to become a healer during the early 1300s, and then a plague doctor when that all broke out. He killed a lot of his patients because it was kinder for that than to die slowly of the plague. In Hell he’s the closest thing to a librarian, and definitely a bit of an eccentric! He collects a lot of the newly fallen.

Belphegor: lord of Sloth, narcoleptic, and an idealist. Probably going to quit at some point to create purgatory, or just… somewhere for the vast majority of the dead to go who weren’t great people but don’t deserve Hell either.

Astaroth: Bel’s best friend, another fallen Angel. Tara spends most of her time on Earth, acting as the classic deal demon. She has a fwb deal with Mephistopheles (yes the one from Faust), and also as Bel’s inter-ring liaison a lot of the time.

Metatron: the Voice of God! (And heretical on my part). He was the first thing ever created, before the universe itself was, and he, God, and Asherah were the primordial polycule… at least until she went to sleep. God did too, some 1400 years ago, so Metatron has been keeping Heaven and Earth from realizing God is MIA by acting in his stead.

As for the wtnv OCs!!!

The new one is Nezha. They’re a glassblower from DB, they’re tiers of punk, they created and then destroyed the stained glass of the Smiling God in DB’s Joyous Congregation. (I have more hc about that, but shhh, the fic will be released in a few days). Their Double was Theseus’s best friend until her death— weird magical inter-city coven they were all a part of.

Speaking of Theseus! He’s the NV weatherman. He’s quite chill, all things considered. He was part of the magical intercity coven (where he met Ted the Weatherman (mentioned! And therefore canon!) from DB. He’s known about the weird effect of the towns for aaaages, but as no one ever asks the weatherman anything, he’s never volunteered any information. After the coven fell apart, he went to uni for meteorology. In an as yet unfinished fic, he becomes Maddy’s (Kevin’s sister) best friend.

Mikhail and Matvei: a set of doubles who hate one anotber. They both went to school outside the Desert. But whereas Mikhail is a relatively good person, he studies time, Matvei is EVIL. Matvei was a StrexCorp enforcer, Matvei is now working on the Sandstorm project. Matvei carved out one of his own eyes in a show of devotion to the Smiling God, and is a hardcore loyalist even without drugs.

Speaking of! Helios is the Smiling God! …sort of. Helios created DB and then just sort of… forgot about it. He came back to find Strex and is now masquerading a priest to figure out how to fix it. He’s also the Greek pantheon Helios, same dude. In the same unfinished fic, he’s Jocelin’s (Kevin’s nibling) biological father.

Maddy and Jocelin! Kevin’s sister and no king respectively. They would be Abby and Janice’s doubles. Maddy wanted to be a botanist, as after their mother took off, ended up raising Kevin. They’re still quite close in large part because of Jo, and because there is no double of Steve. Jocelin, as a child, has a sun allergy Strex ‘fixed’. They’re like… 13 right now, but getting into acting! After Strex was defeated, they were some of the first to move to NV.

How many more do I have??? I think I’ll leave it here for now! (I need to be better at actually messaging you, I promise I’ll try!)

2 notes · View notes

peachyysugaa · 3 years ago

Text

troublemaker

― dancer youtubers!lee heeseung x gn!dance major!reader

sparks fly when the top two dancers on youtube collab!

genre: slow-burn fluff, s2l

wc: 3.9k (omg i'm sorry) + 2 twitter pics

warnings: probably some wrong dance terminology, slightly suggestive (the dance is just 😳), short timeskip, it's cheesy please bear with me

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the fifth upload! feel free to read on its own~ ♞──────────────────────────♞

you finish off your last move with your arms wide open, your chest heaving up and down from lack of breath. smiling nevertheless, you know you absolutely love the feeling of getting your breath taken away after dancing because you know it meant you did your best. you walk towards the camera lens and peek at the comments through your open laptop.

"did you all enjoy that?" you ask breathlessly grinning. the flooding comments are filled with compliments from your cover of nct u's boss. however, one comment, in particular, caught your eye as others seemed to reply to it.

heeseung ✔ 2s ago wow that was amazing do you wanna do a collab sometime? 😊

line break insurance you've failed me 5x already

your eyes widen as you let out a gasp. "is that the lee heeseung?" you accidentally say out loud. you wince at the realization of your mistake. the comments are both praising you for your success in getting noticed by the other top dancer on youtuber and relating to your remark.

heeseung ✔ 3s ago haha yes it's me dm me if you want to hear more about it 🤍

"oh wow... this is really cool..." you state before blinking to get you out of your stupor. "well everyone, that's going to be all for y/n's motion of dance today! thank you so much for tuning in, love you!"

you wave goodbye for a few more moments and then shut off the broadcast, closing your laptop as soon as you do. you blink twice and suddenly let out a scream.

you stop with a gasp and cover your mouth with your hands because you cannot believe you forgot that your dance studio isn't the most soundproof of places. "sorry, other dance students..." you whisper to them but more for yourself.

taking a look around your escape, your passion, you can't believe you've made it to where you are, being praised as one of the top dancers on such a vast social media platform like youtube. if anything, you guess it runs in your family, after all, you are related to choi yeonjun, who is considered 4th gen's it boy.

though people were skeptical of you at first when you came on the youtube scene as a dancer after your older brother started taking more to modeling and acting, you quickly proved them wrong by showing them your talent and bloomed from then on. of course, you can't forget to mention the person who skyrocketed just around the same time as you.

and that was the aforementioned lee heeseung. you sigh as you finish packing up your clothes and things to head back to your dorm, glancing out the window to see the sun beginning to set. it seems today was a rare early finish for you.

"i could go for a coffee... i need to finish my classics essay anyway," you mumble to yourself, throwing your bag over your shoulder before hitting the showers and changing into a more casual set of clothes. the finishing touch is a baseball cap that sits snug on your head. tightening the strap on the back and grabbing your backpack and dance bag, you finally take your leave of your beloved dance studio and return the key on the way out. fresh air meets your face, allowing you to take a whiff of the cherry blossoms that have been blooming for a month or so as you make your way to the campus café.

ding ding, the coffee shop's calm doorbell welcomes you as your nose is hit by the sweet smells of freshly ground coffee beans. "welcome!" one of the servers calls at the counter, smiling at your figure that walks closer to order. "what can i get you?"

"hi, may i have..." you scan the menu quickly for a familiar drink. "a honey cinnamon iced latte please?"

"of course, name please?"

"choi y/n," you reply.

if they recognize you, they don't make any notion of it, simply scribbling your name on the plastic cup as you make your payment. you're grateful for the normal interaction and the peacefulness of the café, especially after a surprising stream. "i'll call you when your order's ready, choi y/n-ssi," they inform you with a warm grin.

"thank you," you smile back before going to find a seat. spotting a relatively private area close by with only a pair of boys sitting at the booth, you decide to take the booth two spaces away from them. one boy, you notice, sits taller than the other, but his face is covered by a baseball cap. the other looks like a freshman, his cheeks accentuated by a pair of deep dimples.

as you take your seat, you can't help but think the boy with dimples looks rather familiar but can't seem to place your finger on it. shrugging, you simply begin preparing to write your essay by taking out your laptop and notes from your classics ge. the moment you finish is when you hear your name being called.

"choi y/n-ssi, your honey cinnamon iced latte," the server's voice calls. on your way to receive your awaiting drink, you can finally hear the voices of the two boys sitting two booths down from you.

"did your crush just say choi y/n?" the one with the hat says.

'yes, that's me,' you think to yourself nonchalantly.

"weren't you just watching their stream, heeseung hyung?" another voice says as you pick up your latte and thank the server.

wait, heeseung? as in lee heeseung? it's when you turn around with your drink in hand that you notice the two males looking straight at you. now you're able to make out the features of the boy with the cap, and there's no mistaking it.

"lee heeseung?" you mutter out loud at the same time he speaks out yours.

well, maybe that wasn't what you were expecting today, but hey, life is full of surprises, even if they are one after the other for you. after that unexpected encounter, you and heeseung acquainted yourselves, he invited you to sit with them, and now you're sitting at their table, awkwardly sipping on your latte.

"right, so should i leave?" the other boy, who you found out is studytuber and vlogger yang jungwon (which is why he looked familiar to you), blurts out. you chuckle as heeseung shakes his shoulder lightly. "what? you two clearly have to talk about something, i need to study."

"yea, yea, lover boy. make sure you say bye to your crush on the way out," the male dancer teases, causing the younger one to turn bright red.

"don't call me that, hyung," he mutters before picking up his bag and leaving the booth. sure enough, you watch as jungwon passes by the counter and erupts into a nervous mess the moment the server beams at him.

"ah... so he likes them?" you think out loud.

"yup, it's been almost four months now. i'm the reason he even knows this cafe and that server exists," heeseung mentions, making you nod courteously. he turns his attention back to you with his hand placed under his chin. "but their relationship is besides the point. let's talk about us."

"d-did you have to put it that way?" the forwardness catches you off-guard, and you suddenly have a harder time swallowing a sip of your coffee.

"sorry," he says with a teasing smile. "i just think the collab i mentioned would be good for both of us, and it'll be really fun too."

"i agree, people who like you will come to me and vice versa," you nod. "but do you know what we would be dancing to?"

"so does that mean you're in?" he asks, smile starting to grow on his face. wordlessly, you roll your eyes and hold out your hand for him to shake. that's when his full smile comes out, causing your cheeks to heat up as you think about how much more handsome it makes him look. taking your hand, heeseung shakes it with his vigorously. "alright, dance partner, we have a deal."

after much deliberation and research, the two of you finally agree on troublemaker by the duo hyuna and hyunseung. heeseung suggested this song, stating that he always wanted to do the choreo with somebody and that it's destiny that both males have a name that starts with h and ends with seung. quite frankly, it's not like you could find much anyway, besides some cool music bank mc stages, it is cool that troublemaker was originally an opposite-gender duo in the korean entertainment industry.

the choreography however is an entirely different story. at many points, hyuna's body is touched by hyunseung and vice versa, but if they can do it and stay professional, then you believe you can too. besides, dancing will always be just dancing. heeseung also assures you that if you want, the two of you can just have your hands hovering, which makes you feel relieved to have an understanding partner.

hours pass by, and you and heeseung decide to meet at your usual dance studio daily after all your classes, which wasn't hard because he also frequented the same one.

"i still can't believe we attend the same university," you say aloud as the both of you pack up your laptops and supplies.

"i know right, you would think one of us would recognize the dance studio we go to 24/7, right?" he laughs. "although, i've seen you use a different one sometimes."

"do you really watch my covers and streams often?" you ask baffled. he and you wave the workers goodbye and make your way to the brisk evening air waiting outside as the staff sends you off.

"i do, is that so hard to believe?"

"a little," you reply sheepishly.

"well, let me walk you to your dorm and prove to you how much of a choi y/n stan i am," he boasts, and you let yourself laugh freely as you walk beside him to your destination.

it's strange, knowing a famous youtuber you watched also knew and followed you, but then again, you're not exactly nobody either. when heeseung drops you off, he admits that he actually lives a few floors above you and that you two can walk home together after each rehearsal. it's even stranger, knowing a famous youtuber literally has been on your campus, in the same dorm building as you, and this whole time, the two of you have both been clueless as to the other's existence as an ordinary college student.

speaking of which, he can't be a dance major, right? otherwise, you would've already seen him! these thoughts keep you tossing and turning to the point you don't register when you fell asleep. when you wake up, you feel as if you didn't get any sleep at all, but get up and ready nevertheless, going through another regular day as a dance major.

by the time your classes are over, you walk out of the studio yawning about to stop by your dorm to freshen up and maybe fit in a nap. you're holding a hand over your mouth mid-yawn when a voice starts talking to you.

"good thing i stopped by to get coffee." you open your eyes and close your mouth to see lee heeseung holding two cups of coffee. he's dressed in an oversized white shirt and grey sweatpants, a common dance practice outfit, so why is your heart skipping so many beats. "yo, choi y/n."

"heeseung," you say, still shocked. he hands you the coffee, which is actually the same flavor you got yesterday. "thanks."

"no problem," he replies coolly. "maybe we should take a break before we get to it?"

"i'll be fine, how about we can start watching the choreo?"

"they're always ready to dance," he nods with an impressed smile. "as expected of a dance major."

the two of you walk inside and book a studio for a few hours as you raise an eyebrow at him. "wait, what major are you?"

"music production."

"that makes so much sense!" you say relieved, stepping into the studio room for the umpteenth time. "i was racking my brains wondering what major you were."

"so the famous choi y/n is curious about me?" he smirks. you groan and facepalm in response. "i'm kidding, i'm kidding. let's watch the video on my tablet?"

nodding, the two of you watch carefully, eyes glued to the screen at your respective roles. you hold your breath at some touchy parts but also notice that both idols were able to shine in their solos.

"a few tweaks here and there, and it'll be perfect," heeseung comments once the video is over. "but let's go over some boundaries, yeah? let me know what you're comfortable with and what you're not."

"right," you agree, once again relieved to have such a safe and understanding partner like him. "well, i think i'm okay with you touching my arms, shoulders, and hips like hyunseung did to hyuna. i just need some time to get used to it."

"alright, that sounds good," he says nodding with a hand under his chin. "then for today, i'll just hover my hands over the places they need to be."

"what a gentleman," you tease.

he rolls his eyes playfully at you. "let's start marking."

and so that's what the two of you start on. with the video on the tablet, you go through the motions with the speed lowered, eventually picking up more moves until you're able to follow at the normal speed. as expected of the top two dancers on youtube, the two of you are quick on observing and learning the dance and get done with basic marking within 20 minutes or so.

after marking, you take a quick water break to watch the video again in full detail, officially beginning your first real practice. as promised, throughout the entirety of marking, heeseung has kept his hands to himself, but you've become comfortable enough to have him do a little more.

before you start practicing for real, you decide to speak with him. "hee," you call him as he puts down his water bottle.

"hm?" he confirms that you have his attention, looking up with his large doe-like eyes while wiping his mouth off from some excess water.

"uhm.." you fidget with your top a little before mustering up some courage. "you can do light touches now for the choreo."

"really? are you sure?" you nod at his question, causing him to come up to you and ruffle your hair lightly. you bat his hands away with a pout, smoothing out the mess he made as he laughs at you. "that's great, y/n," he says with a bright smile, unknowingly making your heart beat a little faster as you nod again. in your head, you rush to cover up the physical reaction with an excuse that it's just from the amount of exercise you've done.

the two of you stand in front of the mirror, ready to go. before the music starts, heeseung turns to you and says, "just let me know if i make you uncomfortable at all."

"i'll be fine," you reassure him with a small smile. that's when the song begins, and the sparks start to fly. every move flowed like water, yet every touch between the two of you was like electricity as if the two elements were working together instead of fighting. even though the touches are light, they still put chills up your spine, in a way that you can only describe with the phrase "meant to happen."

was fate moving its course to put this match together, or were you imagining it? you're not sure, but you grin while catching your breath once the first practice is over. falling to the floor softly, you sit with your hands splayed behind you and let out a relieved sigh. "ahh... dancing is so... great!"

heeseung chuckles at your reaction and offers a hand to get you up. "i'm glad you think that because we got a lot more practice ahead of us, partner."

"yup!" you say with a widening smile. the moment you took his hand, you felt an electric jolt that almost made you let go. getting up, you shake it off and barely catch the expression on your dance partner's face. "is something the matter?"

he blinks a bit before he's shaking his head with that charming smirk of his. "nope! let's practice!"

practice, practice, practice. that's how the next few hours go. and just like the day before, heeseung walks you to your dorm building, this time the conversation about how excited the two of you are for the recording.

that's basically how the next four or so days go, now that heeseung came into your life. your daily routine of wake up, eat, class, dance, repeat was shaken by him, because now he was a part of it. it's an indescribable feeling, hanging out with him. the best word, or phrase actually, is the same one you used while dancing with him: meant to be.

so when you finally get to the day of recording, you almost don't want it to end. at least, that's what you're telling your best friend and makeup artist, kim sunoo.

"friend, you're telling me that you and this guy have been following along to..." he tells you to look up as he curls your eyelashes. "a dance like that for four days and you've been getting shocks this whole time?"

"i mean, yeah?"

"y/n, i love you, but you're missing a little something, aren't you?"

"wha-!?"

"pucker up, sweetie, we're making your lips look kissable," sunoo commands. you do an eye-roll but do as he says. "if you don't ask him out or do something by the end of this, you can at least kiss your best shot at a boyfriend goodbye with luscious lips."

he finishes applying the color and asks you to rub your lips together and make that pop sound. "perfect," your best friend compliments. "go out there and get your mans."

"thank you, sunoo!" you say, gazing at your reflection in the mirror and loving the way he accentuated your features. "by the way, you're all talk. you should ask your celebrity crush out when they appear on your channel."

"i'll get there when i get there!" he whines and starts pushing you out of his dorm room. "just go get 'em, tiger."

with that, you make your way to the dance studio where heeseung is waiting for you, dressed in hyunseung's iconic suit with the leopard-patterned blazer. your heart quickens, seeing how much more handsome he looks dressed up, hair slicked back and some makeup done. he looks up upon hearing the door open and his mouth slightly hangs open as well.

the both of you are silent as you approach him, in your equally bedazzling outfit, sheer to mimic hyuna's stage dress. "you look amazing," the two of you say at the same time. stunned at the simultaneous sentence, you two immediately start guffawing at how this was unlike your usual interactions.

"that was so awkward!" you blurt out, unable to contain your laughter.

"yea, not like us at all," he admits while he wipes a stray tear from laughing too hard away. smiling at each other, you admire the way his eyes reflect your image and sparkle. "you ready to get this show on the road."

"ready as i'll ever be." the two of you get into your positions on the opposite ends of the room, and heeseung starts the camera and the music soon after. you take each step slowly to meet him in the middle as he takes your hand and brings it up to his lips to give it a kiss while smirking. you keep your face professional as the two of you take a few steps forward, the back of his fingers curled over the front of yours.

starting back-to-back, you walk forward a bit before the beat drops and heeseung's part begins. you're on autopilot as you dance your fingers from his chest to his shoulders, and then the chorus comes. hips swaying, you're able to feel his hands' light taps on your body as the two of you lose yourself to the music you've danced to hundreds of times this week.

then, it's your killing part as you lipsync hyuna's rap and take bold steps around heeseung's body, ending up behind him to bring your hands over his shoulders and make a scratching movement across his chest. you step towards his side, do your thing, and walk away as if playing hard to get.

you wait for his part during the bridge and make a side glance towards him before moving towards him and performing the hip-heavy part of the chorus together. your partner moves his face up along your arm, taking it in like you're a statue. you then act like you brush him away when heeseung gets close enough. after this second chorus, you're leaving him to do his big solo, watching carefully as he makes his every move precise and crisp yet flow well.

it's the last chorus now, and this time, you can't take your eyes off each other as you finally face one another. you stay drowning in his shades of brown without a single misstep until you have to walk away from him. you wait for him to come towards you, back slightly turned away as he jaunts forward, making his way to be captured by your hand behind his neck.

the last breath of the song is the one where you're supposed to turn your head away as his own chases yours, but this time, you brave forward and lean in close. the music fades away, but all you hear is his breathing, feeling it against your own.

you stay like this, ensnared in each other's arms, forgetting about everything except the person wrapped close to you as you feel his every breath against your lips and every inhale and exhale under your hand. he searches your eyes, looking for some kind of sign. "do you mind if i—"

that was all you needed before you're pressing your lips against his. it only takes seconds for him to kiss you back, moving his hands from their previous position on your hips to hold your face. becoming breathless from dancing was one thing, becoming breathless from kissing heeseung was another thing entirely, it was in a league of its own you note as you pull away and rest your forehead on his.

"we'll have to edit that out," you say after what seemed like ages of taking each other in while chuckling.

"i have a better idea than editing."

"oh, and what's that, handsome?"

"look at you getting all bold, troublemaker," heeseung replies with that smile of his. he shakes his head, moving away from you and taking your hand in his. "how about we go on our first official date as youtube's top dancer couple?"

"that does sound like a better idea," you agree, your own smile widening.

"then let's make it happen, sweetheart."

bonus! - click for full images

taglist: @cha-raena @imjustme-things @misoiishi @rikitaiyaki send an ask to join the taglist! :3c permanent taglist: @fiantomartell

a/n: wow this was a long one!! i'm not sure if i detailed all the movements well, but i hope you all enjoyed it nevertheless <3

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypenwriters #lee heeseung x reader #lee heesseung fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen oneshots #lee heeseung imagines #enhypen heeseung #captured on camera #this came out more detailed than i thought it would be JFAIJFA

306 notes · View notes

samwisethewitch · 4 years ago

Text

So You Want to Learn Tarot

Tarot is one of the most popular forms of divination, and my personal favorite tool to use when I’m seeking answers. I talked about tarot a bit in my last post, but I feel like it deserves further discussion here since a lot of new witches are intimidated by it.

Before we get into what tarot is and how to learn it, let’s discuss some popular misconceptions.

Tarot is not…

… evil, demonic, or Satanic. This one probably goes without saying, but tarot has a very mystical reputation in pop culture, and some people genuinely believe that it is evil. In the Christian group I grew up in, tarot cards were viewed with the same fear as seances and Ouija boards. So, for the record, tarot has nothing to do with demons, and in fact classic tarot decks contain a lot of Christian imagery. (There are also modern decks on the market that really play up the Christian themes, if that’s your thing.)

… negative or scary. Some of the most well-known tarot cards are those with frightening names and/or imagery: Death, the Devil, the Tower, etc. For this reason, some people think that tarot only contains negative messages or that using tarot cards invites negative energy into your life. Actually, I find tarot to be very balanced between light and dark, with several cards that are purely positive (like the Sun or the World). Even cards like Death or the Tower aren’t 100% negative — their meaning depends on the context in which they appear. While it’s true that tarot does sometimes hit us with difficult messages, this is true of every divination method if you’re using it right. Part of the appeal of divination is that it allows us to see the truth of a situation, even if that truth isn’t pretty.

… ancient. One popular myth claims that the cards are based on the Book of Thoth, an ancient Egyptian wisdom text. In reality, tarot comes from a card game that was popular in medieval Italy — originally, the cards were just entertainment. The use of these cards for divination was popularized by the French in the 18th century. It wasn’t until 1909 that Edward Waite and Pamela Coleman-Smith created the Waite-Smith deck (or Rider-Waite-Smith deck, as it is sometimes called), which established the “classic” tarot symbolism that we all know and love.

… something you can only use if you’re psychic. As I’ve mentioned before, we all have psychic senses, although most of us are not aware of them. However, you don’t have to be a professional medium or be deeply in touch with your psychic abilities to read tarot. Tarot is a tool, and like any tool it has a variety of uses. Your experience with the cards will be exactly as magical or as mundane as you choose to make it. You don’t need to worry about tapping into magical energy you can’t control, or anything like that.

… hard to learn. Learning tarot is not difficult, although it is time-consuming. No one becomes an advanced reader overnight. However, it isn’t actually very hard to learn how to read the cards. Most readers interpret the cards intuitively, which means that how the images make you feel is more important than the traditional interpretation. Being familiar with the traditional meanings helps, but there’s no rule that says you can’t keep a couple of good books on hand to help jog your memory. If you’re trying to memorize all the card meanings so you can just repeat them later, you’re doing it wrong.

Now that we know what tarot isn’t, let’s take a second to discuss what it is.

Tarot is a modern system of divination using illustrated cards. Most tarot decks contain 78 cards, which are divided into two groups: the Major Arcana and the Minor Arcana. The Major Arcana is what probably comes to mind when you think of the tarot: these are the named cards like The Fool, The High Priestess, Death, etc. The 22 Major Arcana cards represent major themes, patterns, and events, so they tend to be the dominant energy in any readings they show up in. The remaining 56 cards make up the Minor Arcana, which deals more with day-to-day life. The Minor Arcana is further divided into four suits, which are each associated with one of the classical elements. The suits are wands (fire), cups (water), pentacles (earth), and swords (air).

If you want to learn to read tarot, the first step is to find a deck that you resonate with. Because tarot cards act as a conduit for your own psychic abilities, you want to make sure that the energy of your deck vibes well with your own energy. You can absolutely order your deck online (and you’ll have a wider selection to choose from if you do), but if picking one out in person is important to you, most bookstores and metaphysical shops will have several to choose from.

Some questions to ask yourself as you’re choosing your first tarot deck:

Are there any themes or motifs you feel called to work with? There are tons of themed tarot decks on the market, from goddess decks to crystal decks to pirate decks. What symbolism speaks to you?

What art styles do you enjoy? You’ll spend a lot of time looking at your cards, so it’s important that you like the artwork!

How does this deck make you feel? It’s best not to choose a deck that makes you uncomfortable, at least while you’re still trying to learn the basics. For me, the decks that I end up working with the most feel like an old friend — comforting and familiar. (Note that some of my favorite decks have dark themes and imagery, but I still find them comforting on an energetic level.)

If you don’t feel called to any one deck, starting with the Waite-Smith deck is always a good idea. Most tarot books base their interpretations on this deck, so it’s helpful for beginners who are still learning card associations. There are several versions of this deck on the market — my personal favorite is the Universal Waite Tarot, because I find it easiest to read. (It’s also cheap and widely available, so it should be easy to find a copy.)

Once you’ve chosen a deck, take some time to get to know the cards. Before you begin reading with your deck, go through the cards one by one and write down how they make you feel, as well as any associations they draw up for you. It’s best to do this exercise before you begin learning the traditional meanings for the cards, so you can capture your authentic first reactions to them.

There are other ways to get to know your deck. There’s an old superstition that says you should sleep with the deck next to your pillow for several nights, so that it can become attuned to your energy. Another option is to meditate with the deck, allowing yourself to feel it out.

Once you’ve gotten to know your deck, it’s time to learn the traditional meanings of the cards. Don’t get too hung up on this part — remember that readings are done intuitively; the traditional meanings are only a guideline, and you may find that the information you receive in a reading differs from tradition. In those cases, always trust your intuition. What the Ace of Wands means FOR YOU is more important than what it means for so-and-so author of such-and-such book. (This is why it’s a good idea to write down your own thoughts and feelings about the cards before you begin studying tarot books.)

The book I recommend starting with is Tarot For Beginners by Lisa Chamberlain. At just over 100 pages long, this is a very brief, accessible, “just the basics” introduction to tarot. The book is just long enough to give you a taste of what reading tarot is like, to determine if it’s really right for you.

Books can be very helpful, especially for learning the traditional meanings of cards, but the best way to learn to read tarot is by doing it. Once you’ve found a deck you resonate with, connected with your cards, and learned a little about card meanings, it’s time to start doing readings.

Start by pulling one card each day. Write down your immediate reaction and any messages that come to you when you look at the card. Experiment with it! Try holding the card in your hands and trying to “feel” it energetically — what vibes does it give off? Does a certain word or phrase pop into your head when you look at it? Do certain images on the card leap out at you? Write all of this down. Once you’ve written your own interpretation, look up the traditional meaning of the card in Tarot For Beginners or another book, or online (the website biddytarot.com has a really great guide to card meanings and is 100% free). If anything you read about the card resonates, write that down as well. The goal here is to see how your initial intuitive reading compares to the card’s traditional meaning — eventually, as you get more familiar with the cards, you won’t need to look them up at all.

As you go about your day, keep your daily tarot card in the back of your mind. How do the card’s messages relate to what happened to you throughout the day? Before you go to bed, write about how you saw the card’s message in your life.

Eventually, you’ll begin to get the hang of reading tarot intuitively. You’ll also begin to develop your own readings styles and your own rituals for doing a reading.

2K notes · View notes

pure-kirarin · 4 years ago

Text

Studying at night - Koby x f!reader (College AU)

A/N : Thanks a lot dear. I am a sucker for my pink boy, so, here is a scenario about studying with him. It came out like the first part of a series, so I might write the rest later. It was so fun and well...Please imagine it being set in La Sorbonne or something. I imagined the actions taking place there. +w+ Ok. Enough chatter.

« - Who have you been assigned to work with, (Y/N) ? »

«-Hmm...Let's see » you check the little paper that you have picked « the name is Koby...I don't know who it is. »

« -Koby ?! Forreal ?? Whaa, I envy you » She taps your shoulder gently while assembling her books. « He scored first for the last two years on every single test. He is like...very hardworking. And a bit nerdy if you see what I mean » She says as she mimics big glasses on her face. « He will probably do all the project, don't bother ! »

-What do you mean ? You're offending me, Nami-chan ! I won't let him do all the work...And you,w ho have you been assigned to ?

She pauses for a little while pinching the bridge of her nose, visibly annoyed then says ; « Zoro. If I let him do anything I think that I will fail this class. Guess I'll do all the work she shrugs but I will make him pay for lunch for a week in return.

-Sounds like a nice deal. You smile and put your books in your handbag.

-Well...I have to leave for now. I have a lecture starting in five minutes...Oh...Look there ! -She points out to a pink haired guy on one of the middle rows putting his books in his bag- that's your man, you might want to catch up with him to discuss the project. Anyways, I'm leaving now.

-See you later. I'll come back later tonight so don't wait for me for dinner.

-Alright ! See ya !

Nami and you shared the same room at the dorm, however, because of your work you always came back late. You didn't have a choice, the cost of life was really high in the capital and you didn't want to be a burden to your parents. You sighed and walked towards the guy. You had some lectures in commun, his face was familiar. You have always assumed that he were younger because of his childish features. The pink hair gave him a soft look, it reminded you of cotton candy.

You waved to him and said after clearing you throat ;

-Yo' ! I'm (Y/N). I guess that we are doing the project work together ? You point to the piece of paper on the wooden table.

-O-oh, hi. He looks at the paper and reads, (Y/N/L/N). Yes ! We are doing the project together then. Nice to meet you. I am Koby. He bows a little bit while presenting himself.

-Cool. I don't have a class right now. We could go grab a coffee in the cafeteria and discuss the project if that's okay with you.

-Ah ? Of course ! That's fine with me. I guess I have some time. He says while looking at his wrist watch.

-Nice. Let's go.

You give him a wide smile. He looked a little bit uncomfortable. The shy type for sure. You were somehow comfortable and looked at him from head to toe. Cute style ; he was wearing a green bandana on his forehead, casual pale blue blaser above a white shirt and a pair of jeans. He looked well put together, a little bit boring ; nerdy type for sure. He took a pair of huge glasses off his face and put them in a case before following you to the cafeteria.

You were now sitting in front of each other in the cafeteria. You smiled noticing how he just ordered a hot chocolate while you loved your tea black and bitter. He was looking at you, then, when you rested your eyes on him he just looked away. He seemed like an easily flustered person. You wondered if he will manage in the presentation. The project you were working on was due to be presented in front of everyone. It was about didactics.

-So, you're also a second year ?

-Y-yes.

-We don't have a lot of lectures in commun. In what major are you ?

-History. I take this lecture as an extra. Didactics sounded fun.

-Oh. You take a sip from your coffee. That's nice. You wanna become a teacher ?

-Not really. I would like to become a heritage curator.

-Whaa, really ? Sounds cool. And...very specific.

-I guess so...That is not something a lot of people would like to do. He says, smiling and scratching his neck. He seemed nervous.

-You're so tense. You should relax a bit. We are the same age after all. Anyways, about this project. You take your agenda out of your bag and open in it front of Koby. Oh jeez. I am really busy with m part-time job most days. So I am only free on nights...The library stays open all night, I don't know if it's okay with you to work at night. I don't want to impose my schedule on you.

He waves a hand infront of his face, assuring you that it's fine with him ;

-It's okay ! I live in the dorm anyways so I am free whenever you are. I don't want to interfere with your working hours.

-Alright so let's say thursday at 10 PM ?

-That's alright.

-It's settled then. I am looking forward to working with you, Koby ! You make a bright smile and he gasps a bit, taken aback by your chill demeanour. Oh I forgot. Can I have your number ?

He looked startled for a while.

-For the project. You assured.

-Oh yes sure !

You offer him your phone and he types his number. You wave to him ;

-Thanks ! I'll message you later. It was nice meeting you, Koby. »

You don't wait for his answear and head to the dorm to get prepared for your job.

(Y/N) sent a message : Hey Koby, you always down to study at 10 PM tonight ???

Koby👓 sent a message : Yes sure ! I'll book a study room in the library if that's fine with you.

(Y/N) sent a message : Sure, see you later !;)

At nine a half you were getting your books and study material ready to go join the cotton candy man. You didn't bother to take off your make up and put on a big coat over your body. You just took off your red lipstick with a babywipe and headed to the library. The place was calm and almost empty. It was rustic, it had a XIXth century style, well, like your whole university that was renovated around that time. It had a classical style that was charming and added a cozy ambience.

Koby 👓 sent a message : I am already in study room number 3. I am sorry I didn't notify you earlier.

This guy was too polite, you thought. You had a little smile then went to the study room. He jumped a bit in his seat when the door opened and that made you chuckle. He was easily startled.

-Hi Koby, I hope that I'm not messing with your sleeping schedule.

Despite the late hour, he seemed wide awake. He said as you sit next to him, putting your laptop on the table.

-O-Oh...No. It's totally fine. I hope that I am the one not interfering with your job.

When his eyes layed on you, he couldn't restrain the surprise that was now mirrored in them. Surely because you were wearing heavy make up ; smokey eyes and glitter that was stuck to your face and your hair. It was different from your usual naked-face look. He couldn't help but wonder for what reason where you wearing so much make up, and what you were hiding under your long coat. But he coughed loudly, trying to focus again ; the project.

-Thanks. I really appreciate how flexible you are around my hours. I owe you one ! I think that no one else would've accepted to work with me this late haha...Well, I wouldn't have minded doing the project on my own. You shrug.

-Really ?...Well...Actually, me neither. I am not too good at project working...And studying with others... He looks down with a smile.

-Oh wow, I wouldn't have guessed. You look like you are good at cooperating. Anyways, I am sure that we will kick ass !

The way you talked and how confident you were were two things that the pinkette appreciated about your personnality. You seemed like an easy going person, he didn't feel much pressure to work with you. You open your laptop and start laying some ideas, meanwhile, he takes out a notebook and a pencil case ; Oh, old-school, I see, you think to yourself.

His notes were very organized and clean. He seemed to have memorized everything the professor has said about the project and had a clear plan. However, he asked you for your opinion for everything and couldn't help but ask « are you alright with this part ? » for every idea he suggested. It was a bit annoying, but also a bit cute.

When he was studying, he was different. He had a bit more confidence and didn't hesitate to correct you when something you said seemed out of the topic or a bit repetitive. You appreciate this about him ; yes, no wonder he scored first for the two last years.

You worked for around two hours before you noticed that his eyes started looking tired. He wasn't used to studying this late, yet he did his best to come study with you at this time. You felt bad for keeping him awake.

-Koby-san ? Your soft voice snatched him out of his half-sleeping state.

-Ohh ! Sorry I just--

-You should probably go to sleep. I am sorry I gave you such a hard time. You must have classes tomorrow morning...You said with a sorry voice.

-No no, it's totally fine. I am sorry I just...well...

-No need to be sorry. Well, it's past midnight now. We should probably get going and continue tomorrow or some other day.

-Are you sure ?

-Yeah. I'm not going to keep you more. You look really tired. You shouldn't overwork yourself, Koby-san...Well...Even if technically it's my fault. You giggled a bit.

You started putting your stuff in your bag and he did the same, appreciating your presence. You had a soft aura that was really calming. He has never studied this late before, but he liked the atmosphere. It felt so dreamy.

As you were both going out of the room, you noticed a little cat keychain on the ground. You bowed down to take it in your hand. It was a cute kitty wearing a strawhat. You looked at Koby with a frown and said

-I think that you dropped this ?

You couldn't help but smile when you saw his embarrassed face. Yeah. It definitely looked like something he would have. He took it off your hand pretty fast and stuttered ;

-Oh thanks ! It's...Well...It's like a lucky charm haha.

-No need to justify yourself. I think that it fits your personnality pretty well.

-Huh ? He just said not understanding what you meant.

-It's pretty cute !

You were making it even harder for him not to blush and you were having too much fun looking at him struggle. It was wrong, but it just was too much fun.

-Oh. It was a compliment by the way.

You wink at him before going out of the study room. He follows you, destabilized. Your confident and assertive behavior was really foreign to him. You really made him interested in learning more about you.

Studying with you was calming, sharing that moment at night in the almost empty library, having you in full make up at such a late hour, as if you were going to a date. He blushed at that thought and felt bad for thinking that. You were there to study and you were strangers, well, university mates. He wasn't allowed to have such a thought.

You were fascinating in more than one way and you really made him curious to learn more about you. You seemed like the type of girls to hide secrets behind her immaculate day-look. He was a bit impatient to learn more. But why ? You were only working for a university project after all, and once it was done, he won't have the opportunity to spend more time with you, and that somehow made his chest tighten.

#one piece imagines #one piece #college au #koby x reader #Koby #nami #one piece nami #one piece x reader

91 notes · View notes

goodfemalecharacters · 4 years ago

Text

because there’s nothing I do better than spite-write. an AU where Sam and Eileen meet in 2002, when Sam is at Stanford. 1k.

Eileen doesn’t expect to see anyone in the library this early. Don’t college kids have hangovers to sleep off on Saturday mornings? And yet, she’s not alone in the stacks.

The kid in question is probably her age, maybe a year or two older, and he keeps staring at her when he thinks Eileen isn’t paying attention. It’s annoying because the back of her neck won’t stop pricking, even though she knows some snooty rich Stanford student is hardly a threat. Not for a seasoned hunter, anyway. And no matter what Lillian had to say on the subject, Eileen is plenty seasoned.

It’s getting really hard to concentrate with the kid’s eyes on the back of her head. It doesn’t help that he’s kind of cute in a floppy, puppy-ish sort of way. He’s probably never worked a day in his life. He has a stack of books next to him that’s nearly as tall as he is sitting down, which is really saying something. Surely he doesn’t need that many.

Eileen rolls her eyes and returns to her book. It’s in Greek, and she hates trying to read Greek. Latin, she can handle, but Greek drives her up a wall.

The kid wanders behind her, ostensibly to run his fingers over the books on the shelf next to her, but Eileen can feel his eyes on the back of her head and then on her notes. She fights back the urge to scoff.

“See something you like?” she snaps at last, whipping around to face him.

She very nearly smacks face-first into his chest because he’s standing almost directly behind her. The kid takes a half step back, his shoulders colliding with the bookshelf. He’s really a deer in the headlights, and for a second, Eileen almost feels bad.

“Um. Sorry.”

He puts his hand on his chest and moves it, counter-clockwise. Eileen can’t stop herself from smiling. He smiles, too, broad and dimpled.

“Actually, it’s the other way.”

He corrects it instantly. “Sorry. I took a class last semester, but I didn’t have room in my schedule for the follow-up.”

“Most people don’t know any,” Eileen says with a shrug.

It’s rare to find someone who bothers. There’s Lillian, obviously. But even she gets frustrated sometimes. A few months ago, she’d made Eileen lookout on a hunt, and the ghost—identifiable to Lillian through its moaning—had turned out to be invisible. Eileen had noticed it eventually, thanks to the dust on a bookshelf moving in a gust of wind, but it had been too late.

(Eileen forcibly shakes off the memory of Lillian screaming loudly enough to shake the floorboards as Eileen stitched up her arm with shaking hands.)

“They should,” he says, awkwardly.

A smile tugs on the corner of Eileen’s mouth. “Yeah. They should.”

The kid sticks out his hand. Eileen hesitates for a brief second before taking it. There’s a faint memory of calluses on his palms, which takes her by surprise. She schools her expression back into something neutral by the time he meets her eyes again.

“I’m Sam.”

“Eileen. Did nobody ever teach you staring is rude?”

He releases her hand so he can put both of his in the air defensively. “Sorry. That’s usually my spot. I’m not used to seeing other people up here, especially this early on a Saturday.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You usually sit in the mythology section?”

“It’s quiet. Besides, I’ve always sort of been interested in that sort of stuff,” Sam says with a shrug. “Classics major?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” It explains the Greek, anyway. “Big classics fan.”

It’s not like it’s against the rules for a member of the general public to be in this library. But it would definitely raise more questions if Sam discovered that she wasn’t a student. Stanford is a big enough school, even if Eileen’s too-big canvas jacket and mud-caked boots make her stick out like a sore thumb.

“I think I’m gonna be pre-law, but I’m a freshman, so I’m undecided so far. There are too many interesting classes to take to commit yet.”

He takes the opportunity to lean over her shoulder again. Eileen lets him. It’s not like he’s going to be able to understand much of it anyway. He smells like cheap shampoo, the kind that Lillian snags from the few motels they stay in that provide it.

“The word you’re missing there is ‘minotaur,’ I think,” he says, brow furrowed.

Eileen looks down at it again. “What makes you say that?”

Sam shrugs. “Sometimes these things can be really metaphorical. The more direct translation is labyrinth-dweller. The most famous thing I can think of that lived in a labyrinth was—”

“Minos’ minotaur,” Eileen finishes, jotting it down. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

The first vic had been stabbed in the stomach. They’d been thinking that it had been a weapon, but what if it had been a horn?

When she looks up, Sam is all dimples again. She smiles back. It feels like when she and Lillian reach a conclusion at the same time, but better, because Sam hasn’t snapped at her about finding the answer quicker.

“Wait. You can read Greek?”

Sam nods. “A little.”

Knowing the word ‘labyrinth’ in Greek is more than a little, but Eileen doesn’t say so. For the first time, she notices a certain thinness to his cheeks, and a certain nervousness to the way his eyes dart around the room.

He didn’t have enough to eat as a kid, he’s assessing exits like his life depends on it, and he knows Greek off the top of his head. Eileen wonders if he has a knife in the pocket of that big brown hoodie to match hers.

For a crazy, wild moment, she considers asking him. Then, she crashes back down to reality. If she and Lillian don’t get a move on, the Minotaur is going to strike again. She can’t let an innocent person die because she’s too busy flirting.

“Thanks,” she says, gathering her papers together. “That was the last piece I needed.”

The papers crumple together in her duffle bag. Eileen usually likes to keep her research tidy, but her last file folder ripped a week and a half ago, and they’ve been too busy to replace them. She shoves the book in, too. She’ll jog out of the library if the little alarm sounds. Lillian prefers it when she can see the research firsthand.

“Oh. You’re welcome.” Sam smiles. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

Another smile creeps up on her face before she catches it. “Why?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to talk Greek mythology with someone who knows their stuff,” Sam jokes. Then, “Plus, I just earned my first free coffee at the shop down the street.”

Eileen feels a ‘yes’ at the tip of her tongue, but she forces it back. She scrambles to think of a plausible excuse instead.

“Can’t. I’ve got a study session. I’d love to, though.”

His face falls, but he recovers pretty quickly. “Maybe another time. Here.”

Sam hurries back over to his own table and pulls a piece of paper out of his notebook. Eileen stands, hauling her duffle over her shoulder. He nearly knocks over his stack of books in his haste.

“My number. For when you’re free to talk about King Minos,” he says, holding it over.

Eileen folds it carefully and places it in her pocket. “Thanks, Sam. Really.”

He signs ‘thank you,’ back to her, even though it doesn’t really fit. Eileen hasn’t smiled this much in so long. Her cheeks hurt. She feels Sam’s eyes on the back of her head until she’s out of his sight, and she’s red to the tips of her ears.

Twelve hours later, once Lillian and Eileen have killed the Minotaur, Eileen takes the little scrap of paper and lets it flutter on to the floor next to its bloody corpse. If Sam has really gotten out of this life, she’s not going to be the one to drag him back in.

No matter how nice his smile is.

(thanks to @uglyorangejacket for being so excited <3)

#spn #eileen leahy #sam winchester #saileen #sam/eileen #spn fic #stanford!sam #pre series sam

69 notes · View notes

leolovesthings · 3 years ago

Photo

Dragonborn’s Infamy is by far one of the craziest, funniest, and in-depth p*rn mods for this game! Let me elaborate on one (1! there are many) of the quests from that mod

Warning: Major Spoilers! (Of a p*rn mod. Do you care? You decide)

You start in Whiterun, where there is a sweetheart couple from two families that hate each other. Classic. In vanilla, they are trying to somewhat hide their relationship, and it never evolves. Jon Battle-Born and Olfina Gray-Mane.

In this mod you get an intense romantic (and sexual) story that could go... so many different ways. I am going to tell you what my character has witnessed (and by that I mean the plot!). In his own words.

This one met Jon Battle-Born, an aspiring bard. He wanted to go to Solitude and join the Bards College, but was worried his girlfriend would run away with someone else. This one supported him in pursuing his dreams, and so he left for the capital.

Soon after his girlfrind, Olfina Gray-Mane, approached this one and told this one how she misses her beloved. This one assured her that love survives distance.

Then, another bard approached this one, called Mikael. He was interested in Olfina and was hoping to get this one’s help in making her his. His suggested methods were less than honorable. This one did not help him. They had lunch and Olfina made it clear she was not interested.

Olfina asked if she should try and visit her beloved, and this one supported her. After some time she received a letter from him saying it was over. She asked if she should try and get him back. This one said he believes in their love. And so got back together. She decided to run away and live with him there, in the capital. (This one walked in on them in the inn. Embarrassing.)

Long after that, this one went back to Whiterun. And there this one witnessed a fight between two old men: lovebirds’ parents. They shouted at each other all over the marketplace (at night). Olfrid Battle-Born, Jon’s father, has accused Olfrina of being a paid-for wench, trying to distract his son from studying. And her father uncle argued she was an honest woman and was kidnapped against her will. Thankfully, the guards stopped those fools from fighting.

Some time after that this one went to Solitude inn only to discover a murder (that did not quite take). Olfina was (supposed to be?!) assassinated. Jon wanted to go to Whiterun to avenge her, and this one chose not to dissuade him. This one chose to help.

We arrived to Whiterun and Jon confronted his father. Olfrid would not admit it, but the way he was talking about her before long since convinced this one it was true, and he did hire her killer(s). Jon killed his father, and we escaped back to Solitude.

Illdi, a young bard from the Bards College, same one who discovered the body and tried to stop Jon from risking his life for revenge, was relieved to see him return. Turnes out she had a vested interest.

This one now thinks to give it time, but eventually convince Jon to move on. However, right after that conversation this one walked in on the lovebirds AGAIN.

This one now believes in corporeal (and sexually active) ghosts.

* * *

Well, realistically, it’s probably a mod conflict. And some other mod might require her alive or something. But the amount of choices (!) in this quest (or rather, series of quests) seems to be tremendous. And those choices have consequences.

From what I could see so far, you can break them up (several times). You can get Olfina to choose you instead (probably? not Jon though, unfortunately, that might have been tempting). You can roofie Olfina for Mikael (ew).

There could be, according to the mod’s page, a horse involved... Potentially... (yep. There is this scene in the very beginning, where you have to catch them in the act - Jon and Olfina are getting it on at night behind the stables - and confront them... And I suppose one of the things your character can do is tie up Jon and bring a horse instead. Why.)

Speaking of the horse, in the very beginning, as you are initializing this mod (by the way, do not install it on an existing save - it will sort of work, but not really, and might completely destroy your save file) you can choose what content would you like to see. You can disable non-consensual stuff and/or bestiality, and choose your moral guideline and sexual orientation.

The main feature of this mod is that it adapts to your personal moral (or immoral) choices. And by making those choices you gain a certain reputation. You can be a saint slut or an evil puritan. Or an evil slut, it’s really up to you.

It also connects to some other mods in a certain way and takes that info into account too. And that reputation you get further affects other quests and choices you can make there.

#dragonborn's infamy #skyrim mods #khajiit's true tales #skyrim wtf #Skyrim #skyrim spoilers #Skyrim Screenshots #skyrim se #skyrim mod review #Skyrim mod #text post #skyrim wander #skyrim story #spoiler #spoilers

6 notes · View notes

of-a-chaotic-mind · 4 years ago

Text

Life After Losing Him

Summary: Reader goes about their new daily life but soon runs into the best friend they had lost several months prior.

TW/CW: Platonic!Reader x Sam and Dean Winchester (mostly Dean tbh). Classmate bullying Reader. Should College Student Reader be a warning? Bc I feel like it should lmao. Lots of swearing. Dean does the silver blade test so a wound and blade are mentioned. I don’t think there’s anything else but lmk if I should add something.

Requested?: Yes, a lovely Anon said, “Hello love, your writing is really good and I love how active you are on your account it’s very impressive I could never 🥰 I would be so honored if you could do a platonic imagine for me??? I had in mind like Dean going to hell and coming back and being mad at Sam because he stopped hunting and maybe being mad at reader for moving on and going to college/not trying to help Sam? Idk if that makes any sense lol”

Word Count: 1,880

A/N: So, Dean isn’t as angry as I could’ve written him to be, I didn’t really include Sam much in this one, and it’s mostly Reader going about her day in her new life. If enough of you want it, I could write a second part where Dean and Reader get home and talk to Sam or whatever. I hope this is alright. I personally really like some bits of it but as a whole it feels off to me for some reason.

Your POV

I grabbed the car keys off my side table before heading out my bedroom door with my backpack slung over my shoulder. I stopped in the kitchen to grab the lunch I had packed the previous evening and a thermos of coffee before heading out for another day of boring ass classes. When I enrolled at the local community college to major in folklore and mythology, I thought the classes would be more interesting and it would be a piece of cake but unfortunately, I got stuck with a boring professor who obviously didn’t even want to be teaching the class in the first place. I push the garage doors open before making my way over to the car. I open the door and drop down into the driver’s seat, set my thermos in the cupholder near my feet, and toss my backpack and lunchbox into the passenger seat. After closing the door, I sigh as I place my hands on the steering wheel, “Alright, Baby. Another day without him but I know you’ve still got my back.” I reach over and pat the dash before cranking the ignition and pulling out of the garage to head for school. The ride to school is quiet aside from the classic rock drifting softly through the speakers.

I manage to find a decent parking spot within walking distance of my class but have to mentally prepare myself before grabbing my coffee and backpack and stepping out of the car. I lock the doors, shut mine, and head towards class. On autopilot, I find the classroom that I need and take my usual seat near the front against a wall and turn my back to the wall as I always do. Aside from a few who like to get here early for the same reason I do, to get our favorite seats, the majority of the class hasn’t arrived yet so I pull out my notebook, pen, and coffee. I avoid all eye contact with the others in the room and label my notebook page for today’s lecture. For the most part, people around here seem to avoid me although I haven’t decided if it’s because I intimidate them or because they think I’m “one of those backwoods crazy people” or perhaps it’s both. Regardless, it suits me fine. I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to get a degree and do something useful with my new life. When he died, Sam and I both agreed to not try to find a way to bring him back and try to create a normal life. Every now and then, I secretly take a hunt but it’s usually nothing more than a basic salt and burn case. I did get a job at a local mechanic shop. They were practically begging me to take the job when I showed up for the interview in Baby.

I’m pulled from my thoughts as a loud group of guys enter the room. I try to ignore them but as per usual their little pack leader wants to try to ruin my day. He calls out to me but thankfully before he can start something, the instructor enters and tells him to have a seat. I’ll have to give this instructor points for at least not putting up with any bullshit like that in his class. Anyway, the rest of the class joins shortly and takes their seats and, on the dot, as always, the instructor starts his lecture. A miserable hour and a half later I have several pages of notes, most of which are completely false from a hunter’s perspective, about topics I already know the truth about just so I know what the instructor will expect on the test. The instructor dismisses us so I pack away all my things and head back to the car to eat lunch before my next class.

I’m about halfway back to the car, which is completely hidden by a huge, jacked up, 4x4 pickup truck, when the loud group of guys catches up to me and their leader calls out again, "Hey, nerd! Why don’t you stop for a second? I didn’t get a chance to take notes in class and I want to get pictures of yours.”

I ignore him and keep my head down as I mumble under my breath, “yeah because you were sleeping,” and continue to the car. As I come around the back end of the pickup and approach the car, I slam into something, or rather someone, sturdy and nearly get knocked on my ass if it weren’t for the person catching me. Out of instinct I go to grab my dagger out of its sheath under my sleeve but the person grabs my hand, “Don’t pull that thing out here. It’s just me.” Hearing that voice causes pure shock mixed with a touch of suspicion to wash over me. I look up and into the face of my formerly, dearly departed best friend, Dean Winchester. However, before I can ask questions or even test to make sure it’s him, the small group of my classmates rounds the end of the pickup truck causing Dean to push me behind him in a protective way.

The pack leader grins mischievously, “Who’s this? You know this guy, nerd?”

I roll my eyes but Dean speaks up for me, “I’m (Y/n)’s brother you little bitch. Now, fuck off and leave her alone.” In all honesty, Dean wasn’t biologically my brother but he and Sam have been the closest thing to having any siblings in general that I’ve ever gotten.

The pack leader looks around Dean at me, “This true?” I nod. He laughs, “Well, I don’t know which of you are driving this piece of junk but you should probably get with the times and stop driving this old rust bucket. Maybe you could upgrade to a nice truck like mine here,” he taunts patting the truck parked beside us.

“Your attention seeking, overcompensating piece of shit on wheels could never handle the things this car has been through,” Dean argues, stepping forward. I grab his arm and tug in attempts to get him to back down, no luck.

The guy scoffs, “Yeah right. I bet if your little friend behind you there hit a curb it’d tear this car to pieces.”

Before Dean can get into a fist fight, I unlock the car door and shove him in before climbing in myself. Unfortunately, the asshole doesn’t get the hint that I’m leaving and leans back against Baby. I check the mirrors to make sure that I’m not going to run anyone over before driving forward out of my spot, mentally thanking whoever didn’t park there or had just pulled out of the spot in front of me, causing the pack leader to fall on his ass. I laugh to myself as I watch in the rearview mirror and then take off. I find a secluded spot on campus to park so that I can test Dean, figure out what the hell happened with him, and eat my lunch before my next class in four hours. When I put the car in park, and look over, he’s already rolled his sleeve up and has a silver blade ready for the test. He presses the blade into his arm right above another wound that looks fresh.

“I figure if Sam wanted all the tests done then you definitely will,” he grumbles before wrapping his arm having sufficiently proven he’s not allergic to the silver. I grab the bottle of holy water that I keep in my backpack and hand it to him. He takes a sip of it before handing it back to me. I nod in understanding before grabbing my lunchbox to eat.

Once I’ve opened my sandwich, I take a bite, chew, and swallow before asking, “What happened this time?”

“I don’t know, Sam’s working on that now,” he pauses, watching me, “I’d like to know what the hell happened to you.”

“There it is again. You never call him Sam but that’s twice in just the past few minutes,” I muse, avoiding his question, “I guess you’re pissed at him because he stopped hunting?”

“Yeah, and it seems to me like you did too so why don’t you answer my question?” he replies.

I sigh, and toss my sandwich back onto the paper towel in my lap, “After we lost you, Sam and I agreed to not go looking for a way to bring you back and to start living a normal life. Granted, I always mentally thanked him for phrasing it that way because that meant if a way to bring you back fell into my lap then I could take the opportunity. Regardless, I got a job at a mechanic shop nearby and started classes here for a degree in folklore and mythology.”

He scoffs and whips his head around to look out the windshield, “So you stopped hunting too. What the hell is wrong with you two?”

“The two of us didn’t stop hunting. He did,” I snap back, “He doesn’t know it but I go on hunts every now and then when the apple pie life gets too boring.”

“What about that asshole back there? Why do you let him bully you?” he asks, nodding his head toward where we had come from earlier.

“He’s always trying to pick on me but I ignore him for the most part and keep my dagger in my sleeve just in case. The less attention I draw to myself the better.” I answer.

“You’re really balancing all this? Like, you go to class and study for exams and shit but then every now and then you go hunting during the weekend?” he asks and I nod. “So, what about Sammy?”

“He got a job, even been on a few dates but like I said, he stopped hunting, as far as I know anyway,” I respond. My phone dings before either of us could say anything else so I pick it up to check it and find that my instructor for my other class for today has sent out a message to cancel it for today. I toss the phone down onto the seat between us and stuff my sandwich and everything else I had pulled out back into my lunchbox before putting the car in drive and backing out of this spot.

“What are you doing?” he questions, once again. I swear if he doesn’t knock it off with the questions, I’m going to roundhouse his ass.

“Going home. My other class for today was cancelled,” I answer shortly.

He’s quiet until we get to the campus entrance, “Can we- uh- Can we stop and get a burger on the way?” I nod as I laugh at him. This is probably going to be weird to adapt to but we’ll figure it out. The three of us always figure things out. Honestly, if this turns into something bigger, as it usually does, then wouldn’t mind quitting school. Turns out it’s not all it’s cracked up to be and definitely not for me. I just hope Dean won’t sulk too long about how Sam and I handled life after losing him.

Masterlist

Taglist: @emiijemii @akshi8278 @deandaydreaming @castiels-majestic-wings @desimarie12

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester oneshots #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam wimchester imagine #sam winchester imagines #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester oneshots #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural imagines #supernatural oneshot #supernatural oneshots

44 notes · View notes

isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years ago

Text

Lightning in a Bottle | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: None :)

Time/Era: Modern AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Music is Edmund’s love language, apparently.

Request: Hey! Could you possibly do a cute high school au with Edmund? Maybe they’re both crushing on each other and everyone knows except themselves, anything you wanna do really haha 😂 thanksss :)

A/N: Thanks for the request!! God, I love Edmund so much. And here, we have indie boi Ed. This oneshot is inspired by Electric Love by Børns. (Specifically, the video linked) This is one of my favorite songs, and I thought it fit the indie-main-character-high-school vibe :) I didn’t really nail the “everyone knows but them” thing, but still crushes! Enjoy ~

masterlist | here is a playlist of the songs in the mixtape mentioned | read on ao3

Edmund Pevensie was obsessed with listening to music, particularly with old musical technology. While it wasn’t uncommon to have a fascination with cassette tapes or vinyl records, it hit a special chord within Edmund’s heart. Something about listening to music, old and new, on the outdated tech made the music sound better, hit harder, and stick in his mind better. He was the type of guy who took the AUX on long car rides to play one of his thousand Spotify playlists.

Another notable thing about Edmund was that he was very intelligent with very high standards for himself. He was a natural at academics, having been in advanced classes since he was young, and he was the guy everyone hated in math class. After dozing off in class, and mouthing off to the teacher every now and again, he still came out as the teacher’s favorite and a straight-A student.

The majority of the time, though, he tended to keep to himself. While he was genuinely liked by his peers and was rather charming, he didn’t really consider anyone his friend. Unlike his older brother, Peter, he liked to remain closer to the shadows with earbuds in his ears. He knew he could never fill his brother’s shoes; Peter had basically come into Cair Paravel High School to be captain of the soccer team. He was so good that even though his grades were subpar at best, he received a full-ride scholarship to Archenland University to study sports medicine and play on their soccer team.

Then there was his older sister, Susan, who won her Student Body President campaign by a landslide. Everyone liked Susan; she was patient, gentle, and got along with pretty much everyone. She too got a pretty large scholarship to Beruna State College and is double majoring in child education and European history.

Finally, there was Edmund’s little sister, Lucy. She was only a freshman at Cair Paravel, and very into student council. Edmund thought she was practically made to be an ASB kid; she was excited, friendly, and much too kind. Lucy made the switch to high school seamlessly and had a big group of friends by the time the final bell rang on the first day.

Edmund was a senior now and he couldn’t wait to get out of high school. The people were unintelligent, he was constantly compared to his siblings and he was ready to start his life. Edmund had high ambitions to become a lawyer, specifically criminal law. He didn’t really have much to leave behind at this school, so he was just trying to get through it as soon as possible.

One thing he would miss was the quiet girl that sat behind him in his music appreciation class. Edmund didn’t really want to take the class, but at the last minute, he discovered he needed to fulfill an arts credit to graduate. He appreciated music and liked easy classes, so he chose this one. Little did he know it was mostly analyzing classical pieces.

Y/N was super cute in Edmund’s eyes. She always mumbled sarcastic comments whenever their easily excitable teacher, Mr. Tumnus, would stretch when over-analyzing a stanza of music. By the time October passed, Edmund had grown quite fond of the girl. She almost always was reading a comic book of some sort instead of paying attention in class. Y/N even ended up lending Edmund a few for his viewing pleasures; he always made sure to return them in the exact condition he received them. Batman seemed to Y/N’s favorite.

Y/N loved watching Edmund write. He held his pencil wrong and always had ink smudged all over his hand. Maybe it was because he was a leftie, or maybe it was because he wrote too fast. Probably a little bit of both. His handwriting was also weirdly slanted to the right, which didn’t make any sense to Y/N. He was left-handed but his letters slanted to the right? Not the mention how half of it was in cursive and half of it was in print. It was definitely messy but, oddly enough, still intelligible.

“What are you listening to?” Y/N asked Edmund. “Better not be Christmas music. Christmas was last month.”

Edmund pulled an earbud out of his left ear and turned so he was sitting horizontally in his chair. He leaned an arm on the top of her desk and grinned. “Currently, I’m listening to Can I Call You Tonight? By Dayglow. What are you reading?”

“Currently, I’m reading Volume 1 of The New Teen Titans,” Y/N copied Edmund. “I’ve never heard of Dayglow, are they good?”

Edmund smiled, offering her his earbuds. “Listen and see for yourself.”

As she listened Edmund searched her face for any clue to what she’s thinking. Her face housed a small smile so he concluded that she enjoyed it. Once the song ended, she took out one of his earbuds and placed it on her desk.

“I like it,” She concluded, listening to the next song.

“Good, so do I. It fits my mood for today.”

“What’s got you so happy today? You have a great way of showing happiness, by the way.” Edmund was dressed in all black with his hood up. Edmund rolled his eyes.

“What I can’t be in a good mood?”

“I never said that, Pevensie. You just look very Edmund-y today.” Y/N pulled the other earbud out of her head and held them out to him.

“No, keep listening. I’ll play some music for you throughout class and maybe you can tell me what you think at the end?” He pulled his hood off of his head and smoothed out his hair. “And what do you mean Edmund-y?”

“I don’t know, all black, hood up, dead look in your eyes.”

“I don’t have a dead look in my eyes!” Y/N giggled at her own joke. “Just for that, I’m going to take this.” He snatched the open comic book that laid open on her desk.

For the remainder of the class, Edmund dictated what Y/N listened to from his phone. He played everything from The Beatles, to The 1975, to COIN, to Duran Duran. Every now and then, Edmund would peek his head back to see her eyes glued to the back of his head. Her body swayed to the music almost lazily, and a smile graced her features. For some reason that made his stomach feel fuzzy.

She returned his earbuds at the end of class, and he returned her comic.

“That was fun,” Y/N complimented, shoving her materials into her bag. “I like the get better song you played.”

“I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers,” Edmund corrected her as they left the classroom. Music Appreciation was the class of the day for them, seeing as they were seniors who left at lunch, so the two started making their way towards the parking lot.

“You have to meet your sister right?” Y/N asks, pulling out her I.D. so she could leave campus. “The really sweet freshman girl? Honestly, you two are so different I wouldn’t have guessed you were siblings.”

“Oh, Lucy, yeah. We grab lunch every Thursday before I drop her back off for the remainder of her classes.” The two showed their I.D.’s to the campus aid and walked into the parking lot.

“That’s sweet. We should grab lunch sometime, or something. It could be fun! We could do our analysis questions about Bach.” Y/N started to walk in the opposite direction and Edmund felt his cheeks warm. Luckily, Y/N’s back was now towards him.

“Yeah, sure. Don Giovanni, right?”

Y/N’s laughter could be heard as she grew further away. “That’s Motzart, Pevensie!”

Edmund shook his head and met Lucy. She was leaning against his car looking bored.

“Who was that? Is that your girlfriend?” Lucy asks, opening the door once Edmund unlocks the car. This made his cheeks flush more.

“No, she’s just the girl that sits behind me in Tumnus,” Edmund puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not, Lucy. It’s just hot in the car, it’s been sitting out here for ages.”

One day in the middle of March when Y/N walked into Music Appreciation, she noticed a small rectangle box on her desk. Upon opening it, she found a cassette and a note. The note looked as if it was typed using a typewriter.

Y/N,

I’m not very good when it comes to words, but I’m good when it comes to music. Hopefully, this says it all. Enjoy, my love.

Side A //

Electric Love / Børns

I Love You So / The Walters

Fallingforyou / The 1975

Your Song / Elton John

Someone To You / BANNERS

Side B //

Babe, Can I Call? / The Hunna

Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy) / The 1975

Luv, Hold Me Down / Drowners

love somebody like you / joan

TV Dream / Larkins

Y/N didn’t recognize most of the songs, but just reading the titles made her blush.

“Mr. Tumnus? Did you happen to see who left this on my desk?” She held up the cassette so he could see. He shook his head.

“No, sorry.”

Other students started to trickle in and soon the bell rang, no trace of Edmund. It wasn’t uncommon for him to skip this class, it was basically pointless, but it made Y/N sad every time he wasn’t there.

The door swings open and a drenched Edmund steps into the classroom. Without even looking up, Mr. Tumnus addresses him.

“You’re late again, Mr. Pevensie.”

“Sorry, I got stuck behind a group of Sophmore girls who wouldn’t move.”

“In the rain?” Mr. Tumnus raised an eyebrow.

“No, if it was in the rain I would be wet right now, sir.”

He plopped into his seat and started raking his hands through his wet hair. His cheeks were slightly rosey, as were his nose. His lips were pinker than usual and they stayed slightly parted. Hair stuck to his forehead as he ran his fingers ran through it and the hair on the nape of his neck dripped down his back. Y/N had to stop herself from staring at him with her jaw unhinged.

“What’s that?” He whispered, noticing the open present on Y/N’s desk. He had taken up sitting horizontal in his chair at all times so he could more easily talk to Y/N.

“It’s a mixtape. It was left on my desk when I got here,” Y/N responded and handed him the note. Edmund took it and began to read; his eyes scanned the paper and his lips moved slightly as he read. Y/N couldn’t help her this time, so she allowed herself to stare. His lips were always so pink and so puffy. She fantasized about how soft they must be.

“Wow, looks like someone really likes you,” He comments, placing the paper back on her desk. “Do you have a cassette player?”

Y/N didn’t even consider that. Who the hell has a cassette player in the year 2020? Apparently, her answer was evident on her face, and Edmund chuckles. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a walkman and a pair of earbuds.

“Here, you can have mine. I got a new one last month and I don’t really use this one as much.”

Oh, Edmund has a cassette player in the year 2020.

Y/N smiled, taking the player from his hand. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Wouldn’t want you to miss out on those songs. Whoever made that has good taste, you’re lucky.”

When Y/N got home tonight, she took out her walkman. It sat easily in her palm, just big enough for the cassette to fit inside. On the bottom, “E.P.” was scratched into the plastic. She smiled and put her mixtape inside.

As she listened, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Edmund. They had grown much closer in the past few months, even going lengths to hang out outside of school. Y/N learned that not only was Edmund extremely intelligent, but he was the funniest person Y/N had ever met. He always had a sarcastic comeback or joke to offer her, no matter the subject. He had also let many of his walls down, letting Y/N get to know him better. It all felt so comfortable and natural. No longer was he just the cute guy from Music Appreciation, but he was the pain in the ass that Y/N had fallen for. And Y/N had fallen hard.

Against her first impression of the mixtape, Y/N had actually heard all of these songs. After the first day in January, Edmund had lent her his earbuds near-daily and she would listen to whatever he played for her. Her eyes widened.

Why would Edmund carry around a cassette player he didn’t use? And to school for that matter? And the note; it was typed because Edmund had such distinct handwriting! Y/N rewound the cassette and listened to it again. Why didn’t she realize in the moment?

“Hello, Y/N,” Edmund greeted in the parking lot the morning, he happened to park next to Y/N. He gripped the coffee in his hand and got his backpack in the trunk. “How are you on this fine morning?”

“Tired, I stayed up, like, half the night listening to that cassette I got yesterday.” Y/N slung her own backpack over her shoulder. He closed his trunk and locked his car.

“Yeah? And what did you think?” The two started walking towards the building.

“I thought that the songs all sounded oddly familiar.”

Edmund took a long sip of his coffee. “Like you’ve heard them before?”

“Mmhm,” Y/N hummed and walked onto campus. She held one of the straps of her backpack as she walked. “Almost as if this dumbass guy I know played them for me a while back,” Y/N’s voice was teasing and light.

“Yeah? Who is this guy?” Y/N stopped walking and looked up at Edmund.

“Thanks for the mixtape, Ed.”

“Whaaaat...just because this guy has great taste in love songs doesn’t mean it was me. I’m flattered though, really,” Edmund took another long sip of his coffee.

“Oh, what a pity. I actually got excited when I figured out it was you. Considering normal people don’t just carry cassette players in their backpacks. Especially not ones they don’t use anymore.” Y/N’s voice was thick with sarcasm.

“Excited?”

“Yeah. I’ve kinda liked that Edmund guy for a while, but he doesn’t like me back so…”

“You like me back?” Edmund was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes, babe, I like you back. I have since October since I started letting you borrow my comics,”

Edmund placed his coffee on a bench and pulled Y/N closer to him by the hips.

“October, huh?” Y/N smiled bashfully at Edmund’s tone but nodded.

“What? You’re cute, I couldn’t help myself. Plus, now you make me cute mixtapes.”

Edmund leans down and places his lips against hers. They were just as soft as she had imagined. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers quickly finding the hairs at the nape of his neck. He pulls away and leans his forehead against hers.

“Be my girlfriend, then?”

“You nerd,” Y/N took a small step forwards and pecked his lips again. “I would love to.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fanfiction #king edmund the just #king edmund #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #modern au #fluff #c.s. lewis #c. s. lewis #skandar keynes #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction

333 notes · View notes

honsoolie · 4 years ago

Text

don’t rush | 03

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings: mentions of alcohol (everyone is sober!!), explicit smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), min yoongi has a dirty mouth

words: 6k

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: ahhh i hope you’re as excited for this chapter as i am ;) start from the beginning?

You never realized how easy it was for your life to fall into a smooth common time rhythm, now that the semester was in full swing. School, music, dodging your friends (usually to go practice), and now, Yoongi. You find yourself slipping into the gentlest of cadences. Spring is coming, the flowers are blooming. There’s a new spring in your step, from the warming weather or the constant daily dose of Yoongi, you’re not sure.

You go to classes, pay your dues in the library. Write the papers that need to be written. You throw yourself into practice. At times you wake up in that half-awake morning sleep, fingers twitching with whatever phrase you were perfecting the previous night. The same cancelled plans, weekend meetups whenever you can manage.

You study with Yoongi. Or at least, that’s the pretense that you operate under when you go to his apartment. By now, you’re there more often than not. (To be fair, it’s much a much better place to study than your room, what with the in-and-out bustle of your roommate. And, well, it’s Yoongi. )

On the nights that aren’t as busy, and you’re not filled with the swelling dread that the impending Bach Festival brings, you practice that Brahms piece with Yoongi in the dingy practice rooms. Much to Yoongi’s dismay, you had started your meetings (lovingly) calling “weekly jam sessions.” Although they were neither weekly nor really jam sessions. Most of the time that you spent in the practice room with him was either laughing at whatever joke he had just cracked, or thumbing through your score, trying to pick up where you had left off. The time you had left until your performance at the Bach Festival was quickly decreasing and you never really found the time to practice the Brahms to properly do it justice, but that wasn’t the point.

The point, like Yoongi had said, was to get you to find the joy in the music again. Secondary to that was hopefully finding the bravery and confidence to play in front of other people, and Yoongi’s plan was slowly working. After all, you can’t really worry about your intonation at the same time that you’re groaning at Yoongi’s shitty dad jokes. If you didn’t know better, these jam sessions really serve to be a shoddy excuse for what should really be called a date.

When Yoongi invites you to meet him in the practice rooms, to practice this romantic piece of music, and offers to get dinner with you afterward, how could you call it anything but a date?

Especially when he insisted on holding your hands if he deemed it too cold. He would shake his head in mock disdain, chiding you in a way that felt nothing like criticism.

Where are your gloves, y/n?

Or God forbid that Yoongi decided that your evening attire wasn’t suitable for the still-frigid weather, and you ended up going through the whole night wearing one of his jackets. Every time you turned your head or moved ever so slightly, you would again be surrounded by the fresh-laundry-cute-piano-major smell of his clothing, and it would take every muscle in your body to not swoon right then and there.

Your first violin teacher had always said to you, “You can’t hide from the metronome. The metronome always tells you the truth.” As a child, it wasn’t bow maneuvers or intonation or memorizing pieces that escaped you. It was keeping the simple rhythm, keeping track of the steady downbeat. You could have been learning the most straightforward pieces, but would get tripped up at simple syncopation patterns or start rushing at the wrong places. And that was something that plagued you into your life as a music student. It was difficult to corral your tempo problem, sometimes derailing orchestra rehearsals or struggling with the same sections over and over during your own practice. All because you would stray away from the gentle tick of the metronome.

Yoongi, however, kept the time for you. Like the metronome, he didn’t lie to you. He kept you grounded.

When your thoughts would begin to race and run miles ahead of your heart, Yoongi would look into your eyes with that reverent tenderness and tell you it was going to be okay. Then he would pull that wry smile of his and everything melted away. Sometimes, words weren’t necessary and rather, he would pull you into a tight hug that left both of you breathless.

He wasn’t always easy on you. If he knew you were acting unreasonably fretful, he would tell you the truth. Didn’t feel the need to dress it up in gentle words or beat around the bush. Then he would tell you a sex joke that he probably got from a joke book and then the weight on your shoulders was lifted, albeit briefly. Sometimes the tough love approach works. (Although, at times, it seemed like that this whole stage fright ordeal was the only thing that he could be direct with you about.)

The pressure was mounting, advancing on all sides. Dr. Kim gave you more-than-firm reminders in the form of tight-lipped smiles every lesson, circling dates and deadlines on the lesson notes marked with your name. Dr. Yang greeted you in the hallways, jesting, “Can’t wait to hear the Bach!” Your university email inbox was flooded with music department newsletter updates, promoting the upcoming festival in every. Single. Email. Staring at the “OPEN TO THE PUBLIC” notice printed at the bottom of the e-flyer probably wasn’t doing anything to help you perfect the Baroque interpretation on Bach’s partita, but there it was, looking back at you. Taunting you.

There was only so much time until your fated performance, only so many hours left to practice, only so many days left until finals week descended upon your campus. Two weeks, if you wanted to get technical about it.

And Yoongi somehow made it all bearable.

Like all things in life, adjusting to Yoongi took time. He set new baselines for you. New thresholds on what was friendly banter, ever toeing the carefully drawn line.

Ever since that pivotal study date (You know, the one where Yoongi held you down and told you he was going to make you beg? Kind of hard to forget.), the signs inexplicably became more and more mixed. Or you were just living in a constant state of denial.

Because all of the things that he said and did with you, none of them could be considered flirting. You didn’t want to give into that belief. It felt too self-indulgent, too good to be true. It felt like setting yourself up for failure.

Because if you did, well, that would warrant action. If you decided what he said with you was flirting or something-more-than-just friends, then you would have to do something about that.

You would either have to take his carefully extended invitation, or reject him. Neither of which you were willing to do. The space that the two of you had come to exist in became precious to you, even if you remained only as friends. Ever before you ever spoke with him, you had spent a great deal of time admiring from afar. Pining is all you’ve known, at least when it comes to Min Yoongi. Wouldn’t it be easier to take the path of least resistance?

And of course, what if you were wrong? Reading all the signs wrong, falling again into the trap of wishful thinking. Things in real life are never like reading off a score. There are no dynamic or expression markings telling you how to broach this kind of conversation.

By now, the unwillingness to speak on the matter is irrefrangible. Like an ancient tradition, some unspoken agreement to ignore the elephant in the room.

Yoongi wanted you, you wanted Yoongi. At least, that’s what you wanted to think. That’s what all the signs pointed to. But it was too late to mention it now. You and Yoongi let it drag on, well past midterms and trundling on in the slow march toward finals. And the Bach Festival.

Unless, of course, this was a total non-issue. Maybe this was how he talked to all your friends. Maybe this was just how Yoongi was nice. Maybe he just has a totally dirty sense of humor… that clicked perfectly with yours.

Here’s the catch. Interpretation isn’t always all that simple, especially with Bach. You have to get historical context, you need to know enough about esoteric Germany to know how to interpret the markings on Bach’s scores. It’s not always so easy, but that makes things all the worse.

It’s all the maybes and what-ifs that plague you when you’re restless at night and the only thing you can think about is Yoongi. Maybe he’s into you, maybe he’s not. What if he’s actually repulsed by you and he just wants a study partner? What if this whole study buddy thing is just a ploy to get you to spend time with him, because what if he’s actually just as into you as you are into him? Maybe he just wants to be friends, but what if he doesn’t?

What if Yoongi is actually an alien, and he’s trying to decipher how to act like a human being, and that’s why he acts like that?

What if.

You would have better luck divining your future with Yoongi in your coffee dregs rather than lay awake, staring at the mildewing ceiling tiles.

You (8:18pm): want to work on the Brahms tonight

You (8:19pm): we can get boba if it’ll sweeten the deal

Yoongi (8:23pm): sure

Yoongi (8:24pm): I was going to go out later tonight so we can practice for like an hour

You (8:26pm): oh

Yoongi (8:26pm): I’ll make it up to you though, i promise. Boba on me?

Yoongi (8:27pm): you should come out with me, namjoon will be there

Yoongi (8:27pm): taehyung too

Yoongi (8:27pm): we literally all know each other, let’s gooooo pls

You (8:28pm): i wish but it’s literally thursday dude

You (8:29pm): have a drink in my name :)

Yoongi (8:30pm): will do

Yoongi (8:31pm): meet me in 115B in twenty minutes, what boba do you want?

So Yoongi does have a sense of fashion outside of sweatpants and beanies after all. White button-up, but only a few buttons are actually done up. Sleeves rolled up to his elbow. Dark jeans, and god, that belt . The need to cry or get on your knees right then and there is overwhelming.

Wow, everything works for him. Every time you think you’ve done the impossible task of not having a visceral reaction in his presence, he does something like this. You never know what specific flavor of Yoongi will appear before you at any given time.

Yoongi, aloof college student. Yoongi, dark and mysterious man who buys you a drink in a hazy bar. Yoongi, the concert pianist with hands of steel and a heart of gold. Yoongi, the love of your life—no. No, we are not going there.

It’s a crush, it’s a harmless crush, nobody said anything about love.

You try to get your head out of the mushy-falling-in-love gutter by doing what you do best. Flirting with him, teasing him, poking fun at him for the littlest things. “You clean up well, don’t you.” You all but sneer, incongruous with the heat spreading across your face. “You’re late.”

“Well, I was taking care of an important errand. Look,” He shakes your iced drink in front of him.

You take a sip, refreshing despite the still-frigid weather. “Fuck, we’re so bad. We shouldn’t be eating in here.”

“We’re not technically eating, are we?”

“You’re right.” He never, ever fails to make you laugh. Or everything he says is funny. “Let’s get started, I don’t want you to be late,” you say, fiddling with the music stand.

“You should cooooome out, y/n. Don’t be so boring for once.”

You gasp. “I’ll pretend like that didn’t hurt. And I won’t know anybody there, and I’m not even dressed to go out, and it’s Thursday .” You gesture to your evening loungewear, your barren face.

“Okay, but just this once. You’ll have to come out with me next time.” It sounds like a promise, or maybe a demand, when he says it.

Come out with me next time. Again, you wonder if he knows the implication behind his words, if he really ever means what he says.

You pull your music out of your backpack, the plastic sleeve of your binder crackling underneath your touch. It’s a familiar sound. You set a pencil on your music stand, like you’ve done thousands of times before.

“Let’s get started, Yoongi.” He takes a seat at the piano bench, smiling contentedly. You smile back at him, and for a still moment, everything feels just right.

Yoongi isn’t usually late to class. He usually comes in a couple minutes early, headphones on and deaf to the warble of students around him. You know this, because you’ve always made it a point to show up especially early to the classes you share, just so you can watch him scroll through his phone for the few precious minutes before class starts.

Today, he stumbles in right after Dr. Won, wearing last night’s clothes and a bucket hat undoubtedly covering a messy bedhead. He’s missing his usual coffee, and the bags under his eyes belie the smile he gives you. Yoongi says nothing as he sinks into the seat beside you, cradling his head in his arms. You sense the opportunity to tease him, and pull your phone into your lap.

You (10:06am): it looks like someone had a rough night

Yoongi (10:08am): you should mind your own business and pay attention

Yoongi (10:09am): i don’t look that bad do i :(

You (10:10am): just tired that’s all

You (10:11am): still drunk or something?

Yoongi (10:11am): nope painfully sober

Yoongi (10:11am): let’s get day drunk after this >:)

You (10:13am): no <3

Maybe his questionable inebriation lowered his inhibitions, which might explain his knee nudging yours underneath the desk. Looks like he didn’t forget your previous conversation. It’s not an accident; accidental knees are nowhere as insistent as Yoongi is being now. You nudge your knee back, as if to say, two can play at that game.

Yoongi (10:14am): still touch starved? ;)

You (10:16am): fuck off >:(

Your theory is confirmed when he inches his hand closer and closer to you, finally resting his hand on your knee. His thumb draws languid circles on the inner part of your thigh, insistent but gentle, playful but... possessive. It’s a lot to take in at once.

However, you don’t need alcohol to stoop down to his level. You’ll never let him get the upper hand on you without a fight, no matter how much the butterflies in your stomach would like to contest that.

You take his hand and place it back in his own lap, trying your best to stay discreet. You keep your eyes trained on Dr. Won, but your gaze still slides back to Yoongi. When you look at him, he’s looking at you in contempt. “Is that a challenge,” his eyes seem to ask.

Slowly, tentatively, you slide your hand from the desk into your lap. It doesn’t get Yoongi’s attention at first, until you gently greet his hand with yours. He’s still looking at you with those same taunting eyes.

Sometimes you can’t stand how cocky he is. And other times, like these, you love it. You just want to take him down a notch. Your journey underneath the table continues when your hand comes to rest on his thigh, trailing your fingertips along until you find the inner seam of his pants. He’s warm and solid under your touch. It feels overwhelmingly real, and you wonder if you have the guts to finish what you started.

You try to keep a neutral face, like this isn’t affecting you at all, like you do this all the time with other cute piano performance majors. The smile breaks through your facade anyway. You bite the inside of your cheek red in an attempt to stop it, and you renew your efforts to continue taking notes.

Your smile turns into a stifled gasp when Yoongi guides your hand higher up his thigh, his hand dwarfing yours. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the half-hardness between his legs, holding your hand in place.

Blatantly, you realize, your actions have consequences. This is real. This, whatever this is, with Yoongi, is real. Neither of you can fake it anymore.

The blushing starts up again, creeping down your neck. The heat spreads through the rest of your body, settling in the pit of your stomach, replacing the nervous knots that were there not an hour ago. This was most definitely not what you were expecting. Was fake-drunk Yoongi really going to take the flirty banter this far? You thought that was just part of being friends with Yoongi. Do all his friends get to touch his dick?

You really should have thought this through more, but you’re going to finish what you started.

You use the heel of your hand to trace along the length of his cock, dragging it slowly just to tease him for his contempt. You’re suddenly thankful that nobody can see what you’re doing from your angle in the classroom. He shifts into your touch, still not quite looking at you. Yoongi picks his pen up again, scrawling on the blank corner of your notebook.

“I’m a horny drunk,” it reads. You roll your eyes. Everything is a joke to him, you posit.

You continue your gentle teasing. Eventually, Yoongi rocking back into your touch. Not once do you tear your eyes off the Powerpoint slides projected across the room. This is the only time in your life you’ve ever cared so much about the beautiful simplicity of Bach’s fugue subjects.

But in the end, no matter how hard you try, you can only focus on one thing at once. And the task at hand (literally) was to tease Min Yoongi to full hardness. You were fairly successful.

Yoongi picks his pen up again. “Just so you know,” he writes, “ I’m about to blow a load.” He places your hand back in your lap, patting it for good measure. You don’t miss the way that his hand trembles.

“I’m a girl with a mission,” You retort, as petulant as you can be with a pen. “Let me finish the job.”

“Continue your mission after class.”

Oh. Friends don’t do this with each other.

You scribble over your correspondence with your pen.

You wish you could take the extra time to explore the inside of Yoongi’s apartment, despite how many times you’ve been here already. Maybe there would be something new to decipher, now that you were here under different pretenses. You catch scant glimpses of the familiar quaint kitchenette and the neatly organized rack of shoes, but you’re now preoccupied with Yoongi’s hands on your waist, tugging your shirt out of where it was tucked into your pants. You see the same guitar on the same wire stand and the same MacBook sitting idle, but your view is obscured after Yoongi presses you up against the door.

It’s a feat of mental strength to stay upright, and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

After class, Yoongi had shot up from his seat, hand in his pocket, likely readjusting himself. His eyes were glassy. He had looked so, so wrecked.

“Come with me,” He said, voice strained. To the untrained ear it might have sounded like a voice heavy with sleep, or maybe too many drinks too late at night.

But to you it sounded like a voice rough with lust, or (a lot of) wanting. All for you.

He had grabbed you by the hand and led you back to his apartment, as nonchalant as you can be about this kind of thing. It was an unspoken truth what you two were about to do, like this was the natural order of things. Like you were just fulfilling the inevitable. Like you were always meant to fall into his arms like this. It almost makes sense.

He had grabbed your hand and led you along the looping hallways out onto the sunny walkway like he had done this hundreds of times before, like the both of you have been touching each other like this for months—rather than just hinting and skirting around the innuendoes, the half-worn glances, the knowing smiles.

The walk back to his apartment was silent and full of untapped sexual tension coming to a head. Even if the hammering in your chest allowed you to speak, you wouldn’t have. It passed by in a blur, the denial giving you tunnel vision.

Yoongi is holding your hands in his, like this is a much more intimate moment than it should be. “You still don’t have gloves,” He murmurs against your lips, but he doesn’t close the gap. It sounds more like a promise rather than a statement.

He’s warming you up from the inside out, erasing the cold from the walk here. Spring was still slowly waking up. The sun takes time to melt the snow.

He rolls his hips against yours, more insistent than he was in class. When he does, you can feel precisely how wanting he is. All the contemptuousness is gone from his eyes. Whatever replaces it isn’t something you can give a name to.

He can’t—Yoongi can’t hold your hands like that and look solemnly into your eyes like that. Yoongi can’t look at you with that kind of reverence, because that was what made you fall into this deep dark pit of confusing feelings in the first place. But you don’t have time to consider it because he’s rolling his hips against yours again.

“Look,” he gasps, “Look at what you did to me.” When you look at him again, his pupils are blown wide, all fucked out and desperate and wanting. If it was physically possible, he might be more desperate than you, from the look of it.

“I thought you said you were a horny drunk.” You tease, and to steer the conversation away from the way he had been looking at you. That’s a conversation that you’re not ready for—neither of you are ready for.

After these weeks of back and forth, you’re finally going to make him say what he’s really been thinking all along. You’re done being the cat chasing after the mouse.

The Yoongi in front of you is a far cry from the one before, teasing you for not having been laid in months, showing you just how dirty his mouth could get.

“No, this is all you…” He breaks off into a breathy moan, muffled by your hair. His hips are still slotted against yours, and your ability to ignore that is diminishing by the second.

Who knew that the stoic Min Yoongi could ever produce such a whimper?

“I have to get to class, can’t be late…” You tease, trailing a finger down his chest, but you’ve already made up your mind with what you’re going to do with him.

You’re going to stay.

You can worry about the loose ends later.

“Please stay, just a little longer, please.” He guides you over to the couch, clutching your hand like a damn lifeline. When he straddles your hips, you’re reminded of the last time he held you down, when you were studying together. That memory seems faint now. It’s funny how context can change everything.

“You won’t be late, I promise,” He says, voice coarse. “And I’m going to fucking show you what this mouth can do.”

“And you have to promise not to ever drink that much again, what the fuck.” You chastise, your breath hitching at his promise, but you don’t really care. Not if it gets Yoongi like this. Your hand comes to rest on the waistband of his jeans.

“I didn’t have that much, I was just up late… thinking about you.” He starts to unbutton the collar to your shirt, slotting his leg between yours. Yoongi traces the cup of your bra with a daintiness that reminds you of the way he runs his hands over the keys of the piano before he reels up to play. Knowing that these hands that create his beautiful music are the same hands that are currently on your body produces a shiver that sparks down your spine.

You try not to put too much stock into what he’s saying, he’s always been all talk. It’s just words to get you in the mood, set the scene. Yoongi has always been all bark and no bite, teasing you with empty, joking promises. That was his whole gimmick, if you could call it that.

He knows you like dirty talk (you made that abundantly clear from that last conversation), you’re a warm and eager body in front of him, you can do the math yourself. There’s no need to read between the lines for this one.

The gasp you make when he starts mouthing down your neck is involuntary, as is the way that you thread your fingers through his hair when he moves his way down your chest.

Yoongi’s hair is uncharacteristically soft, like silk, or the little sigh of satisfaction he makes when he finds the sweet spot he’s looking for. You briefly consider asking him about his haircare routine when he closes his mouth over your nipple. Hot, wet, and everything you needed to forget about the long afternoon ahead of you.

“Please, please.” He pleads again. “Please stay. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Okay,” You gasp, “Okay, I’ll stay.”

“Good, because I’ll make you eat your fucking words,” Yoongi says, gritting his teeth. He’s fully unbuttoned your shirt now, and you are all but bare to him, save for your bra. “What were you thinking? Touching me like that? In class? What if someone saw? But you don’t care about that, right?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, however, instead opting to kiss bruises into your collarbones, adding to the faded violin hickey on the left side of your neck.

You are a deer in headlights, frozen in place, completely pliant underneath his touch. Even if you weren’t pinned underneath him with his hands and legs, then you are underneath his piercing gaze. You know he can probably see more than just your shocked, open-mouthed expression. He can probably see your longing written all over your face, or maybe the special kind of glee that comes from wish fulfillment. You might as well confess your feelings for him now, because your expression has all but told him the truth.

“Did you forget what I said to you the other day? I’m supposed to be the one teasing you until you’re fucking desperate to come, not the other way around.” You shake your head no, lost for words. Who’s going to tell him you’re already desperate to come, sans teasing?

He starts to push your pants past your thighs, kissing at the skin that’s now bare—and you squirm, whine, whimper into his touch, just to show him how much you want this. Want him.

Somehow, it feels better like this, with the way he’s left your clothes half on, half off. The collar of your shirt is undone. There is a trail of four socks leading to the couch. It… it… almost suggests that Yoongi is in such a rush to have you that he can’t be bothered to undress you properly. Like he needs you that much. You ignore the following twinge in your heart.

All you can focus on is the fine bead of sweat on his hairline as he sways on top of you, ghosting a hand over your panties. When you finally feel him nudging against your clit with insistent, slow pressure, you make a strangled gasp.

Faintly, you hear yourself cry out into the filtered indoor air, just above the sound of the heater humming. It doesn’t sound like your voice, but you’re too far gone to care or investigate further. All you can focus on is the increasingly hopeless need between your legs, and the person that’s currently about to attend to that. You’ve never heard yourself make noises like these before, let alone meet someone who’s able to make you so desperate.

Your desperation makes itself tangible in the way that you writhe against him, straining against the warm weight of his body, too much and never enough. It feels like your body is making up for lost time, getting revenge for all the almost-touches, almost-confessions. All those quiet moments in the still night where you should have kissed Yoongi but didn’t, never closing the gap.

Even now, when you’re right up against his body, it doesn’t feel like enough. Should it scare you that it doesn’t like enough, and you’re almost certain it never will be?

He laughs, almost coldly. It sounds nothing like the morning that you met him. This is a different kind of cold, a different kind of cruelty. “You sound like a little bitch in heat. What, you can’t be a little patient?” He checks the time on his watch, because of course, Yoongi is the kind of guy to wear an analog watch. “We still have time before your next class.”

At your silence, he softens. He takes his hands off of you, much to your dismay. “Is that—okay? Can I call you that?” You should be embarrassed at the enthusiasm in your nod, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to care.

Yoongi leans over you again, grinning. “Don’t worry, I like it. I like having you like this. All desperate and,” Yoongi drags a finger downward , “Wet.”

“Fuck, don’t tease. Don’t-” You’re absolutely shameless now, but it doesn’t matter, as long as you can get some kind of relief.

“Are you sure? Then it would be over so, so soon.” Yoongi returns to your clit, tracing light circles that only serve to incense you. “Can you even take it?” He pulls your panties askew, blowing gently on the exposed skin. You shiver, now realizing just how wet you are for him.

“Yes, yes, please, I can, just give it to me–” His finger meets little resistance when he finally pushes a finger inside your needy cunt, immediately setting a punishing rhythm.

“This is what you wanted, hmm?” He kisses the crook of your thigh, settling ever closer to you. “I told you I would get you to beg.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh, shut up.” You cover your face in your hands, laughing despite yourself. “Not everything is a competition, you know.”

He works you open with skill because, of course, Yoongi is good at this too. It’s not enough for fate to make him a diligent student, a talented pianist, and have a heart of motherfucking gold. No, he just has to be good in bed too. How are you supposed to resist falling for him? Was it ever worth the effort to try?

“But it’s so much more fun like that. You know, I don’t appreciate this backtalk.” He presses deeper on that sweet spot inside of you, and you keen, eyes fluttering shut. “Seeing as I’m the one who’s going to make you come, and all.” All the light is gone from his voice now.

“You’re going to be good for me, right?” Yoongi says, as if the answer could be anything other than a firm, enthusiastic yes. He tightens your grip on your hips, his blunt nails digging into the soft skin.

“ Yeahyesyesyesyesanythingyouwant,” you whimper. You don’t even have to pretend like you want this dearly, as you’ve had to in the past with less doting partners. How long have you held your breath, waiting for something like this to happen?

“And I thought you were worried about being late? You didn’t get enough? Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure you get your fill.” His playful condescension sinks to the lowest parts of your stomach.

“Yoongi,” You whine, “You’re going to kill me.” You attempt to draw your legs up in a belated attempt to preserve your modesty, but Yoongi yanks you further down the couch.

“No, no, I’m not done with you yet.” Yoongi finally takes your panties off, inadvertently streaking your arousal down your thigh. He throws them off to the side. In doing so, you can see your arousal dripping down his wrist in the afternoon glow.

“This, Yoongi says, with stars in his eyes, “Is payback.”

The hot lick of his tongue feels nothing like revenge.

Yoongi is still keeping you trapped in the same place, nowhere to go. You’re nowhere closer to a release than before. The initial thrill of his mouth on you is gone when you realize that he’s not evolving past the featherlight touches with his hands. You roll your hips against him, as if to to pout.

“Please, Yoongi,” You gasp.

“What? Please, what?” He smiles. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and you’re not sure whether to love or hate him for it.

“You—you can’t—just leave someone like this.” You all but shove your pussy in his face, relentless in your pursuit of some kind of relief, no matter how small. But he won’t give it to you. The kitten licks he’s giving you aren’t enough. The uncharacteristically coquettish kisses he trails down the inside of your thighs, leaving gooseflesh in his wake, aren’t enough. You’re insatiable.

“Like what? I think I like you more like this.” You know he’s reveling in this, much like how he’s likely reveled in your desperation in the past weeks. Nothing he’s doing is providing relief to the need, the ache. Everything he does only serves to stoke the fire brewing in the pit of your stomach.

“Yoongi, I need you.” Maybe if you keep hinting at what you want, he’ll give it to you. Because you’re not about to fucking beg for him. Again.

“I’m going to need you to be more specific.” He drives his point home by dragging his fingers against the upper wall of your pussy. Your answering moan should be specific enough.

“Come on…” You whimper, thighs trembling. You’re not sure if it’s from the pleasure or the lack of it.

“Come on… use your words.” Yoongi stills his hand.

“Just—ugh— touch me. ” you urge, whinier than you intend, exasperated and desperate. You need this release. You need it so much your vision is blurring. “Make me come,” your voice smaller, “Use your mouth, your hand, I don’t care anymore.” You throw your arm over your eyes in defeat.

Yoongi has all the puzzle pieces laid out in front of him. He’s seen your wanting expression, now that you’ve all but admitted that you want him to give you an orgasm. How could he not see your puppy love for what it is?

He chuckles, light as bells. “Was that so hard. And for the record, next time, you’re gonna come on my cock.” And just like that, it’s like a dam has broken. No more denial, no more teasing, no more waiting, and Yoongi is touching you in full now.

You try not to look at him with his head buried between his legs. One, the pleasure is so immense that you can hardly stop your legs from trembling, let alone stop your head from lolling back against the couch cushion.

Two, you’re scared. Of him looking at you, catching his eye. Of him seeing your face from below. Scared to face the truth, just a little bit. Min Yoongi, the concert pianist that you have been eyeing all semester, is servicing you with his mouth. It even sounds ridiculous in your head.

Three, you’re not really even sure if this is happening. It is entirely plausible that you’re going to wake up tangled in your bedsheets in the dead of night and realize it was another night of mistaken belief.

Next time. Maybe. What if.

The few glimpses you do catch are of the dark hair caught between your fingers, handholds tethering you to the couch, to him. You can also see the indents his fingers make in your thighs, he’s holding you in place. His knuckles are white with the effort.

“I’m-I’m gonna come. Yoongi, fuck, I’m—” When you finally crest over the edge, you all but levitate off the couch, every muscle in your body straining under the force of your orgasm.

The sound he makes sounds almost like “you’re mine,” but you ignore that for now. You sit up, blinking in the sunlight. It might be nearly noon now, but you don’t care. Your afternoon lecture is low on your list of priorities right now. You smile wolfishly. “Your turn.”

There’s no way to pretend anymore, no more mental gymnastics, no more what-ifs, buts, or maybes. You might as well dive in headfirst.

#armywriterssupport #btsgoldnet #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader

170 notes · View notes

a-jumped-up-pantry-boy · 4 years ago

Text

Please excuse this thing, I decided that I should write something while running low on sleep and high on caffeine, and this was the substandard result: Remus and Sirius being Library Boys (because I like books and why not) in a few thousand words. (Also @onlydreamofmysoul kind of inspired this because your dedication with ficmas made me want to write, so I’m blaming you for this disaster) His tea is far too hot, but he gulps down mouthfuls anyway, knowing he’ll need the sugar to have even the smallest chance of actually staying awake during his library shift tonight; the night shifts are his favourite, because he’s usually free to just stack books without being interrupted, but on nights like this, he can barely stay awake. Inputting yet another barcode into the aging computer, a repetitive task that needs no brain power whatsoever, he internally groans when someone walks over to the desk.

“Hi, I’m wondering if you can find me the worst book in here?” Remus doesn’t startle at the request, doesn’t even lift his eyes from the list he’s reading.

“My autobiography might fill that category for you. It’s called “Why My Parents Should Have Left Me By A Motorway”, and it - oh. Fuck.” It’s only then that he remembers that people can hear what he says, and that most of his internal monologue shouldn’t be heard by other people.

“And on what shelf would I find that book?” The guy is smiling, thank God, and Remus is sure he recognises him from a class. Probably a language, he thinks. The man opposite him definitely seems like a language kind of guy. He also seems like a very, very attractive kind of guy, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Actually, it’s still in publication - there’s still more stuff they can add to the book, you know, since my life keeps getting worse - but maybe you’d like a classic instead?”

“I read enough classics as it is, but maybe-” It’s at this moment Lily, who’s at the end of her shift and is putting her mug back in the sink, walks by and decides to get involved.

“Just so you know, children’s abridged versions don’t count as reading classics. Not when you’re in your twenties,” she says, grinning far too energetically for midnight.

“Fuck off, Evans. I just want a really shit book. We’re talking My Immortal kind of shit, but published.” Remus wonders where Lily knows the guy from, and then remembers her once telling him about a strange, yet endearing, man who was obsessed with her and his best friend, and presumes the man opposite him is one of the two.

“I’m not sure books like that generally get published, and if they do we probably don’t have them here.” Remus stares curiously at him, taking in the messy, yet somehow still perfect, hair and the tattoo - because of course he has a tattoo, all hot guys have tattoos, it seems - peeking out from the back of his shirt. “What do you want with the worst written book anyway?”

“I’m glad you asked.” He waves his arm, gesturing to the library, and sinks into one of the chairs. “I’m doing an experiment. Both my brothers are literature nerds, and they’re becoming too poncy for me. So I’m gonna really hype this book up, make it look like everyone loves it, and then give them a shit - really, really shit - book, and see what they say.”

“Too poncy? I can practically smell the wealth coming off you, and yet you’re not poncy?” Remus sometimes thinks that maybe he should consider the things he says, and now is one of the times he regrets not being slightly more sensitive. Or, like, polite. The stranger looks shocked for a second, then smirks and hoists himself off the chair.

“That’s fair. But, they both study Classics, so they’re automatically poncier than me.” Lily walks past again as the man speaks, and stops to glare at him.

“Are you calling me poncy? I had to work day and night to be accepted here, and I didn’t have a family name getting me in, and there was no using money to-”

“Lils,” Remus says, interrupting her before she can go on a well intentioned, but unnecessary, tirade. “He’s talking about his brothers. Don’t worry, nobody’s accusing you of swimming in bribery-money.”

“Bribery money? Is that a thing?” The man goes to take a square of Remus’ chocolate, and he all but slaps his hand away.

“You tell us. You’re the one with all the insider knowledge of ponces and Tories.”

“Okay, I can excuse being called poncy, but a Tory? That’s too far, even for me.” Remus has the decency to pretend to be sorry, even though he’s one step away from crying with laughter; a man who sounds like he wouldn’t be out of place at Buckingham Palace, getting offended at being associated with Tories. Luckily, he doesn’t have to pretend to be remorseful for long, because Lily lets out a burst of laughter before he can apologise.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you came out wearing a blue pin button and cheering on Margaret Thatcher. You might not be a Tory, but don’t try and tell us your family has been voting Labour for years. You can’t blame us for assumptions.”

“Actually, I came out wearing a rainbow pin, not a blue one. But, I guess I get it. The majority of ponces here are Tories.” Remus feels his heart speed up - if he said that to Lily, she’d definitely start making notes to check he wasn’t having a heart attack, the dramatic woman - at the mention of the man’s gayness. He could have a chance. A small chance, admittedly, but a chance. Lily finally decides to leave, and Remus waves her goodbye as he leads the man down a pathway of bookshelves, on the hunt for the worst book ever published.

“So, what’s your name? And what’re you studying, if not Classics?” Remus asks, inspecting the shelves for something, anything that hints at a terrible book.

“Erm, don’t laugh, but my name’s Sirius. And I’m studying Philosophy and Modern Languages.” Remus looks up from the bookshelf, not even trying not to giggle.

“Sirius? But no, you’re not poncy at all. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. So, modern languages? That’s where I recognise you from.”

“Recognise me? Have you been stalking the University buildings, searching for my pretty face?”

“No, you dolt, we take several classes together. I’m doing English and Modern Languages, hence the sharing of classes.”

“Oh, we take basically the same degree then.”

“We definitely don’t. I’d never be caught dead taking philosophy - I hate my life already, and now I’ve got to come up with bullshit theories of why?” Sirius - Remus can’t get over the name, even though his is equally as ridiculous - opens his mouth, about to protest, and then closes it again.

“Actually, that basically is what we do. How come you’re making me evaluate all my life choices in the span of five minutes?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should consult a philosopher to find out why. That’s what they do, right?” Although his tone is meant to be teasing, the same kind of jokes he makes with Lily, instead it comes out as flirting, though he can’t imagine Sirius minds much, because he’s smirking at him and looking like he wants to kiss him.

“Take that back, and say my degree is perfectly valid.” Sirius takes a small step towards him, and he doesn’t step back, instead looking him square in the eye and raising his eyebrows.

“Make me, philosophy boy.” He takes another step towards him, and Remus is certain he could feel Sirius’ heartbeat against his chest, if he tried hard enough to sense it. Instead he winks, and says, “Or don’t, and go ask why you’re searching for validation from some random boy you met in the library fifteen minutes ago.”

“In my defence, the library boy is incredibly hot.” They’re touching all over now, chest to chest, their noses rubbing against each other. Remus’ back hits the bookshelf as their mouths crash together, and he hears the distinct noise of books falling to the floor. Later on, when he’s restacking all the books, he’ll regret snogging someone right up against the bookshelf, but right now he runs his hand through Sirius’ hair and smiles against his mouth. He likes the night shift even more now.

#wolfstar #library #my book obsession is shining through #i'm sorry that this monstrosity had to cross your screens #I'm seeking validation I probably don't deserve lol

40 notes · View notes