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cyberbvnniee · 6 months

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‎✧ lovesick!chifuyu x hyperfem!bimbo reader : A jealous, pining Chifuyu finally gets the courage to approach you after watching you fraternize with Mitsuya ♡

black fem reader, chubby bimbo reader, reader is a fashion girlie! not really mentioned but chifu studies literature, semi-public sex (I think), kinda whiny reader, kind of a shift at the end. lovesick!chifuyu, reader is a maneater not a mean girl! (jk) Mitsuya & Takemichi make an appearance! There’s like one b*ji spoiler, standing doggy, slight choking, pussy eating, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), excuse any mistakes, MDNI

author’s note: for my bby @prtttycocobuttvr 🫶🏾chile this has been in the drafts for idk how long 🥲 extra long for literally no reason, the bulk of it isn’t even the smut…the ending is so abrupt 😭 but I really needed this out my drafts

wc: 3.7k

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Every now and then Chifuyu thinks back to the day the two of you met.

He fucking hated you at first, he’s ashamed to admit. Was it really hate though? Could’ve been annoyance, jealousy maybe? A lil bit of both is what he’ll chalk it up to. It was love at first sight for him, meanwhile you never gave a second glance in his direction.

He started seeing you more as the weeks passed, the two of you had no classes together, but he still saw you around far too often. You smelled just like marshmallows or vanilla, something sweet that demanded his attention every single fucking time you strutted past him.

It became a routine—class, cafe and lastly the library where he’d find you doing anything but reading.

Once a quiet safe haven for him to relax with a good book, now overtaken by the clicks and clacks of you touching up your makeup, or the rustle of a potato chip bag while you sit there with your pink Hello Kitty headphones watching some Netflix drama, even the constant sucking and the jumbling of ice as you slurp down every drop of your boba coffee while waiting for your newest minion to finish your homework.

That day was supposed to be no different. You and one of your minions were heading to that same table, around the same time you always arrived. You looked so damn good too. You always did.

He was obsessed with your new hair color, black girl blonde is what he learned it’s called. Ash blonde with dark chocolate roots and it’s just so damn pretty he’s losing his fucking mind. Your face is fresh and bare, no makeup aside from a dark blackish-brown lip liner and gloss. Lashes full and fluffy, you must’ve gotten them filled over the weekend.

His eyes are trailing your every move, waiting for the glimpse of your backside that never came.

“Hiiiii Mitsu & friends!” You leaned down to drape yourself over the lavender’s shoulders. Chifuyu tries to keep his cool, brows furrowed and eyes almost as wide as saucers as he watched this strange display.

And friends? How fucking pathetic is that. Granted, he didn’t know your name either, often referring to you as “that pretty girl” when he spoke about you to Baji’s grave but fuck, that made him feel like shit.

It’s the first time he’s heard that cute voice of yours and it’s when you’re greeting Takashi fucking Mitsuya?? You guys seem well acquainted and it burns Chifuyu up inside, when the fuck did you two get all buddy-buddy? And what the fuck did Mitsuya have that he didn’t?

He wonders who initiated the first contact, wouldn’t be surprised if it was Mitsuya, he’d always had the confidence a loser like him lacked. He was also very good with women, unlike Chifuyu. Then again, you seem very bubbly and outgoing so it very well could’ve been you who approached him.

“Here are those fabric swatches I was telling you about. If you decide to use any just let me know! I have tons of rolls and I can bring you some yards.” You hand him a couple of squares of fabric. At least ten 4x4 squares that you took the time to cut and string on a little o-ring like paint swatches. So cute.

“Thank you, y/n!” He smiles. “I’ll surely let you know.”

Just like that, you’re heading over to your table, minion hot on your heels.

It’s a quick exchange, and it should’ve been harmless, but boy does it boil his blood. God, did you speak to everyone but him?!

“Y/N,” Damn, he learned your name, heard your voice and watched you diss him all in one sitting. It was insane. “You know her?”

“Yeah, we’ve only spoken a few times but she’s super friendly. She’s an exchange student from the states, a fashion major too, we have classes together.” Mitsuya spoke as he sketched out a few designs for a project.

“This would make a nice jacket.” He shows Takemichi the blush pink corduroy square for him to feel. “Maybe pants too if she has enough. It’d look nice on Koko, he’s my model.” “It would! It’s nice and soft, like velvet! Koko’s super pretty too, it’ll look great.”

He steals glances at you every now and then.

“Just talk to her dude, she’s literally so sweet.”

He doesn’t raise his head, still sketching away, but it’s clear who his words are directed to. Mitsuya has known him for quite some time, of course he knew how to read his pragmatic friend.

“Yeah! Unless you’re scared.”

He cuts his eyes at the crybaby blonde. Of course he wasn’t scared, just a bit apprehensive is all.

He looks your way one last time.

Your back is to him and you have your MacBook open in front of you watching a recap of celebrity metgala looks. You’re enamored by your fashion content, even taking notes in your cute notebook with your adorable pom-pom pen. You’re too oblivious—too much of an airhead in your own dumb little world to notice that simp eye fucking you.

Dude’s practically drooling while staring at your tits. It’s disgusting, enraging even. It boiled his blood, so much that he’s scooting his chair back to approach the both of you. Takemichi and Mitsuya watched him with careful eyes, since he didn’t say a word before he made his move. Fuck it, his pride was already shot and he didn’t have shit else to lose.

You didn’t even notice him at first, both airpods in, now staring into your hello kitty shaped compact mirror while reapplying that sticky beauty supply lipgloss all over your plump pout.

Before he could even stop himself he’s snatching up your homework sheet, scanning his eyes over this chump’s work. Wrong. Wrong. Most were either fucking wrong or incomplete! Complete bullshit and he was gonna let you turn that in?!?

“Get the fuck outta here.” He’s speaks so calmly, it’s all the more sinister.

The four-eyed geek is snatching up his bag and calculator so damn fast you’d think Chifuyu had a gun to his head.

It pissed him off so bad! But why did it piss him off so bad?

Probably because you’ve approached everyone but him as if he’s not one of the smartest people on this fucking campus. Probably fucked them all too, so why were you being so damn stingy with him? And why the hell was he so worried about it?

Chifuyu motions to sit down next to you, thighs spread with his hands clasped between them. He run’s his sweaty palms along his pants every now and then, trying to build the courage to speak to you.

You give your lips one last smack, capping your lipgloss and shutting your compact. “Hey, you’re Mitsu’s friend! Do you know where…nevermind. I don’t even remember his name.”

“He said he had something to do, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh okay. What’s up?” You finally give him your undivided attention, dropping your stuff into your little designer baguette bag, turning in your chair until you’re facing him. You’re almost instantly entranced by those striking eyes, iris’ the color of sea glass. The dark locks of his undercut styled messy and wild. He’s cute. Real cute.

“I like you.” Chifuyu has never been one to beat around the bush, even though his heart was nearly beating out of his chest right about now.

“You don’t know me to like me, so if you wanna fuck me, just say that.”

You say it like it’s nothing. Must be used to it by now, constant fetishizing instead of genuine attraction. But the way he’d been pining over you was much deeper than someone who just wanted a quick fuck. You plagued his mind—his thoughts, all you.

He runs his tongue over his lips, not in a creepy way, but because he’s nervous and they’re dry. Either way you still notice it, it’s kinda hot honestly.

“I do. I mean I would, but I don’t want to-I don’t have to,” He’s stumbling all over his words and it’s fucking embarrassing. Word vomit, is what Mitsuya calls it, it starts and there’s no telling when it stops.

“Regardless, I wanna know you–I think you’re so pretty, I like your style, the way you dress and stuff. And I’ll do your homework, if you want. Or I can actually show you how to do it, cus’ if you turn this garbage in you’re sure to fail.” Chifuyu tosses out. He barely wanted to do his own, so why the fuck was he offering to do yours? Was he that desperate for your attention?

You’re twirling your hair around your finger, head tilted. You’d never had one of them offer to teach you, just always offering to do it just to be in your space.

“Hmmm..so you wanna be my tutor. I guess, but what’s in it for me?”

The blackette could feel his eye start to twitch, there’s no way you were serious. “I’m doing your homework and tutoring you for free, what the fuck else do you want from me?” He scoffs.

Greedy bitch.

“Boy please, I can have any of these other guys doing my homework. You obviously want something from me and I just wanna know what you’ll offer me in return.”

“I don’t want anything from you, I’just want you.”

You stare at him and he stares back, that adorable face of his morphed into a slight pout. He holds eye contact the entire time, it’s almost intimidating, but his aura is so light and genuine.

He’s a strange boy, you’ve concluded, but it’s intriguing.

“Why?”

“I don’t fuckin know,” He truly doesn’t know, you’re just a dumb girl he happened to see at school. Not the first and definitely not the last, but you’ve been on his mind since he first laid eyes on you. “But I like you, a lot. I’ll do whatever you want.”

He was infatuated and he didn’t know why.

You divert your eyes, tapping your puffball of your pen against the wooden table. “What if I want you to fuck me?”

There’s a pause, you look at him and he looks at you before he sucks his teeth. “You’re joking.” Even still, he feels the blood rushing from his cheeks to his cock.

“You said whatever I want.” He needs to make sure he heard that correctly. Was it a test? A prank? Because you’re obviously just fucking with him. “But if it’s too forward, we can just study I guess.”

He’s silent and so are you but the way he’s boring into your soul makes you wish you never brought it up at all. “You serious?”

You nod, batting your fluffy mink lashes at him and as lame as it sounds, that’s all it took.

Next thing he knew, Chifuyu was eating his crush’s pussy in one of the private study rooms. He’s almost embarrassed at how quickly he fell to his knees, eager to slurp on your pretty, plump cunt.

The library is old. One of the oldest buildings on campus, hasn’t been renovated since it was built. A private study room was the perfect place—just a windowless, concrete box where no one could see or hear you leaned on your back with your feet in the air while he sucked on your pussy.

Your clit is juicy and suckable, the pink nub catches his attention the minute he slid your panties down and spread your thighs open.

He’s used to keeping his face stuffed in a book back here, now he’d much rather have his face stuffed between your thighs every second of the day.

You’re a sight to see right now, tits spilling out from under your top, panties looped around one of your ankles and your skirt is flipped up and out of the way, away from the mess he’s making between your thighs.

He’s so messy with it, spitting on it and slurping it back up, licking stripes up your sweet pussy until your clit is peeking out of its hood.

“So good.” He breathes out, spreading you wider. From your hole, all the way up and back down again, his tongue leaves no part of your cunt untouched. He’s dragging up one last time before sucking your cute little clit between his lips, running his hands up and down your plush thighs and belly.

After a while you lean up and your shaky hands manage to pry those supple pink lips away from your clit, his lips leaving your pussy with a loud, wet ‘pop’. “Waittt, I never got your name.” You whined.

As if names, or lack there of, had ever stopped you. But you desperately wanted to know his and you wanted to scream it when you came—which would be very soon if he kept sucking on your clit like that.

He’s gazing up at you with those dazzling seafoam green eyes, silvery strands of your slick still connected to his lips when he pulls away from your pussy.

“Chif-fuck...” He’s huffing and puffing trying to catch his breath, resting his head on your thigh for a moment. Your hand is running through his hair, back and forth petting motions until his breathing slowed. “Chifuyu. Matsuno..Chifuyu.”

He rarely gave his full name, at least not to people he held no respect for. But you were different, he just knew you were. He’d never been this intrigued by another person since middle school when he met the infamous Baji.

“Chi-fu-yu. Chif-uyu.”

You test it on your tongue, wanting to get every syllable right. It makes him fucking melt, the sound of his name flowing from your glossy lips is so pretty. Fuck, he needed to hear you moaning, screaming and babbling it like a little slut. His little slut.

He wastes no time pressing his lips back to your pussy, licking thick stripes up and down, fat tongue relentlessly teasing your entrance and dragging back up to your clit.

“F-fuck how are you so good at this..” It catches you off guard. His head is sloppy and nasty, but not too wet with just enough teasing to drive you insane. It’s almost as if he’d been acquainted with your pussy before this, but you know there’s no way.

You barely notice how your body subconsciously rocks against him, rubbing your pussy up and down his face, your clit bumping his little button nose every single time.

Your question falls on deaf ears.

The once bright-eyed boy is now staring at you, his eyes alarmingly low and glossed over as he loses himself.

He’s too far gone now, lost in absolute bliss between your thighs—the taste of your gooey, sticky cunt, your moans, the feel of your thighs trembling. Pussydrunk wasn’t even the word.

He lets you use him. Lets his tongue hang slack against his chin for you to grind your puffy clit against it. His face is wet and sticky and he’s covered up to his cheeks in your slick. He can barely breathe, you’re rocking far too fast for him to get a breath in, but even still Chifuyu would eat your pussy until he was blue in the face if it meant pleasing you.

Every inhale is laced with your scent and it’s like an aphrodisiac. Everything about this was so perfect. He can feel the shivers running up and down your body—you’re close, he knows it and that’s when he gets relentless.

“G-nna cum for you baby..can I cum?”

Christ, the way his dick jumped should’ve been a sin. Chifuyu hums against your clit, groans his approval so his lips don’t have to abandon your perfect pussy again. You can feel every single lick & suck and even the puffs of air he breathes out of his nose as he slurps on your cunt, teasing your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming Chifuyu. Mmm, I’m cumming. Chifu-”

Your climax hits you like a punch to the gut, knocks the wind out of you and has you doubling over with your hands tangled in his dark locks, your trembling thighs squeezing against his neck.

Your moans and pants are so sexy, he loves you like this. You don’t even realize you’re running from him until he grips your hips tighter, pulling you forward and holding you taut.

He’s desperate to drink up all you’ll give him, thick tongue gliding over your hole before he’s shoving it inside. Not a drop of your lovely essence goes to waste as you let him get his fill.

The chime of the desk phone startles you and forces him to part from your cunt. He looks at you and you look at him, you make no move to get it forcing him to.

“Chifuyu!” The librarian calls, he frequents this place so often that the two of them have gotten quite familiar. “Sorry to bother you and your girlfriend, but the library closes soon-“ She’s checking her watch. “In about ten minutes hun.”

“Ah, okay! Thank you Miss and she’s not-” When he catches the dial tone he places the phone back on the receiver.

“She says we have ten minutes until the library closes.”

Before he can even finish, you’re already on your knees shoving his joggers and underwear down in one swift move. His dick is gorgeous—thick with a pretty pink tip. You’re not sure about the size, seven maybe seven and a half inches. Either way, it fills your mouth perfectly, big and heavy on your tongue as you lick the precum dripping from the tip.

The minute he feels your mouth on him he nearly loses all control, knees threatening to give. Chifuyu grips your jaw, popping his cock out of your mouth with an audible ‘pop.’

He notices a dip in between your brows. A frown?

A pouty frown on your pretty face accompanied by a roll of your eyes. So cute.

“Chifuuu,” You whining his name is tearing him apart inside, staring up at him with those doe eyes. “We only have 10 minutes. I wanna make you cum.”

He’s pulling you back up, spinning you until your ass is pressed against his crotch.

“I know pretty…I’m gonna fuck you.” His voice is breathy, desperate. “That okay?”

It’s soft but he hears it. The soft ‘yeah’ tumbling from your lips, the small gasps of anticipation as you raise up on your tip toes to meet his height. He’s sliding his length through the junction of your thighs, coating himself in your slick.

It’s so good, this little crevice between your thighs and cunt feels like heaven. Like the warmest hug embracing him with every push and pull of his hips.

He has to force himself to pull away. He wouldn’t be able to face you again if he came from fucking your thighs.

Blunt fingertips melt into the plush flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks to watch as he slides past the tight ring of your entrance, a loud squelch greeting him when he bottoms out.

You’re the epitome of enticing, a pretty bitch with a perfect pussy, and honestly he feels undeserving. He feels his infatuation for you growing deeper, except this is something he wants, no, needs forever.

He’s so gentle, stroking slow and stretching you out just right cus it’s a tight fit.

Despite the wetness dripping down your thighs, you feel every single inch of him. The burn of the stretch, the slight ache as he kisses your cervix with every clumsy thrust. Your pussy feels so good around him, like it was made for him. Made to take his dick.

“I didn’t—I didn’t think you’d be so b-big.”

Snaking his hands around your neck, he’s pulling you up so your back meets his chest, rolling his hips so the thick head of his dick mushes against the gummy walls of your g-spot. Your legs are trembling but he holds you up. Heavy breaths against your ear as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah? You don’t think much of me at all, do you? Think you’re too good for me?”

“Noooo! I don’t think that.” He’s not letting up, stroke after stroke, until you’re creaming all over him, and even then, he still doesn’t stop. “W-would never… think that.”

The thick white fluids settling at the base of his cock, the slick gush of your pussy every time he fucked into you. It was driving you mad.

“I don’t exist in your world,” Thrust after thrust. “But you consume mine, I want you so bad.”

Your brain is fuzzy, just barely able to make out what he’s saying. “I-ah want you tooo…y’know just h-how to handle me baby.”

“Yeah,” He breathes out. “Of course I do.”

You’re not sure if it’s the sureness in his voice or the sweet kiss he presses against the bare skin behind your ear that sends you over the edge but your climax hits you like a train carrying the sweetest bliss. You don’t utter a word, just deep breaths and pants, a quiet belt of his name towards the end as you melt into him with every buck of his hips. He feels it—the spasms, the trembling, the cozy warmth you coat him in, an impromptu reminder that he’s unprotected inside of you. Still, he fucks you through it, just until he’s close enough-

“F-f-fuuuck.” The groan rips through his throat as he reaches his end, the grip on your neck loosens as he pushes you down and spills his seed all over the cheeks of your ass.

He’s so unprepared it’s a shame, forced to use the inside of his turtleneck to clean the mess he made, even going as far as to place you up on the table and wipe between your thighs.

“Oh you didn’t have to- I have wipes..”

“No big deal, didn’t wanna dirty your skirt. You made this, right?” He rubs the hem of the frayed pink denim, recall’s seeing a square of this same fabric on the ring you gave Mitsuya.

“I-I did. How did you know?”

“I remember seeing you sketching it out. Glad it turned out nice enough for you to wear. It’s cute..” He trails off when you avert your gaze.

“Thank you. I’m glad too…” You trail off and you avert your gaze.

“Don’t go acting shy on me, y/n.” It’s the first time you’ve seen it, something akin to a smile on his cute little face, his eyes are as bright as stars as he stares down at you. It’s odd, almost as if the roles had changed.

“I’m not!” You whine. “It’s just strange, you’re strange Chifuyu.”

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minhosimthings · 2 months

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love.

Synopsis: in which Hyunjin comforts you on a hard day

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, heavily self indulgent because I can, hurt/comfort, reader cries, mention of food

A/N: yay I did this finally it's out of my notes Woohoo! Idk when this idea came into my brain but it did and I couldn't stop thinking about it so now it's here. For my loves @chlorinecake and @astraystayyh they are my Hyunjins

Song rec: love by Wave to Earth

The weight of the world on your shoulders.

You had often heard that phrase as a child. It was ridiculous, initially.

The world can't possibly weigh that much.

You were the smartest in your class, you knew the multiplication tables by the time you were five, the capitals of the world by eight, and by fifteen, the weight of nothing but your own shoulders dragged you behind everyone.

University was an easy affair, that's what you told everyone. Someone's got to keep up the smart girl, book child status up right?

Studies were easy, just understand it, write it down better. Yet, fuck, you could feel the words fading by, was it a stalactite or a stalagmite?

Graduation was easy, you were peaking and nothing was in your way!

Then you realised something.

The world did weigh too much.

Everyone weighed too much.

Your mind weighed greater than your heart, something you fought off for eons now.

And diamonds are formed under pressure, but hadn't you learnt that diamonds turn into graphite every now and then too?

You were so smart as a child, what happened?, You wished ever so fervently that you could tell them that you weren't a child anymore.

No longer the child that thought the only thing that she needed to do to be loved was to get a good grade off her papers.

Or was that love starved part of you still inside?

"Rough day, love?"

Love. It was the nickname you most adored. Lucky for you nicknames were Hyunjin's personal favourite job.

"Fuck..." You swore softly, immediately collapsing onto your couch, and wrapping yourself into the warm cocoon that was your boyfriend's arms. You swore you would become a butterfly from your current catterpillar state one day.

The gruesome world always seemed to calm down on its axis of rotation as soon as you reached Hyunjin's touch. As if he was the petals of honeydew calming down the speed of a hummingbird. Would you have been the overactive bird rushing around to cater to the needs of everyone around her?

You could hear your own heartbeat in the moments of silence, when the dust seemed to still and the winds seemed to wait, eavesdropping on conversations old and new. The hauntedness of the thumping sound made you shiver.

The tightness around your throat felt tighter by the moment, like an invisible rope hanging round it. Your heart felt too heavy too for some reason. It's a heart, you tried to convince yourself, you need it to live. But you knew that you could rip it out of your chest at this moment, and you would still keep living on. But did you really have to-

"Want to talk about it, love?"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

A loud sob ripped through the thick air, coating the curtains of the atmosphere in a blueish paint that seemed to have rotted inside it's bucket far too long. Hyunjin was quick to bury your head further into his chest.

You know you smell really comforting?, that went on in his mind, the thing you said on your first cuddle session, in which, he remembered fondly, you described his scent a bit further than most people usually did.

Broken strings of words escaped your lips, I'm sorry—im so sorry! Guilt always flowed through your veins whenever anything like this happened.

But Hyunjin understood, he always understood. And fuck, you both hated and loved that he understood.

One hand lay on the back of your head, while his other caressed your back, rubbing circles on it. As if a magical void would appear and take all your problems away.

Hyunjin was your magical void.

"Can you talk to me?" Hyunjin asked quietly. He felt you shake your head against his shoulder, causing him to tighten his hold on you.

"It's going to be okay love. I promise you."

Another wave of tears surged through you, nearly making you double over at the rush of fresh emotions popping off in your brain, your jaw tensing as you tried to stifle the illegible babbling falling from your lips.

Hyunjin's words in your ear and his hand rubbing ribbons of comfort onto your back made you catch your breath, and slow down. Silence rose once you had stopped crying, you felt even more tired now and you had to admit, Hyunjin was a nice pillow.

The occasional sniffle and tired breath from you, broke Hyunjin's heart even more. He hated seeing you cry, so much so, he'd always distract you if he ever sensed you were in a depressed mood. Even if there were times that you poured your entire heart out of him in tears, he'd always shed his own tears in private, sometime later.

"Love?"

"Hmm?"

"Want me to run you a bath?"

"With the candles and everything?" You managed to say in a quiet, exhausted voice. Your throat was tired from all the crying.

"With the candles and everything." Hyunjin smiled down at you, pushing back stray strands of your hair behind your ear, "Can we go up to the bedroom, love? Can we do that?"

He was speaking so softly to you, and it was making you want to sob rivers again.

Silently nodding, you felt yourself droop down all over again as soon as Hyunjin got you up, strong arm wrapped around your waist, hugging you to his side.

Pressing a sweet kiss to the side of your head, Hyunjin started with shuffling moments upto the bedroom, which you followed, not even being able to lift your head up from the pure exhaustion.

Sitting on the bed felt like you were hung down by iron nails, while Hyunjin prepared the bath for you. Even a moment without him felt down, and even if it was a bit dramatic , you were willing to admit it.

"Hands up?" Hyunjin looked at you softly, taking off your shirt for you and discarding it in the empty laundry basket, "You did the laundry yesterday? Wow, I'm proud of you baby."

You let out a breathy giggle at his words. Hyunjin somehow always knew every word in the instruction manual of how to make you laugh.

"Is the temp alright?"

You couldn't get yourself to say yes so you hummed what seemed to have been a 'yes'. Your throat was raw, and your face was congested as well as your chest. You sounded like you swallowed a frog, and the frog was also now sick and subsequently congested.

The water truly didn't have any texture or temperature to it when you got into it. The world felt numb again as you relaxed into the tub, which, evident from the scent, Hyunjin had filled with your favourite bath salts.

What seemed like a year's worth of time, passed in silence, as Hyunjin quietly stroked your skin with soap, was it the lavender one or the tea tree one? You couldn't tell, remembering how you often joked that both of them gave off the same perfuminous vapours and that Hyunjin should just buy one of them. The water seemed more mellow now.

"Love, look at me?" Hyunjin's voice broke you out of your seemingly never-ending stupor. Like it always did.

You turned your head and rested your eyes on Hyunjin's softened ones, and you felt that familiar tightening of your throat again.

"Hyun I-"

"Don't you dare apologise." Hyunjin said before you could even get a word out, "You never have to apologise to me. Not for this."

His hands were sickeningly sweet as they ran over your back, washing lathers of soap off of your back, his voice even more so.

“You deserve to relax, you know that right?" Hyunjin said, as he wrapped you up in your purple coloured towel, "“You did so well today and you do so well everyday and you deserve to rest for a while."

Hugging you into his arms again, Hyunjin provided you with a little den, a cave where you could settle into whenever you felt that you were too tired for a lion's hunt. And you were forever grateful to him for him.

"Now-" Hyunjin looked down at you with a cheeky smile, "You are not allowed to leave the bed until you finish every single cupcake I got you."

"You got me cupcakes?" Your lips broke into a smile, a genuine one this time, "What flavour?"

"Beef." Hyunjin joked, sending both of you into a frenzy of laughter, as you pressed a kiss against his nose, making it turn the touched skin like a tomato.

The one thing that you'd have never admitted to anyone when you were younger was the fact that you wanted to be loved. That was a silly notion to you.

But maybe now, under the watchful gaze of Hyunjin as he saw you devour the cupcakes, you'd admit it.

You'd want to be loved, even if it was another weight on your shoulder.

Maybe that'd be a weight you'd like to ephermally lift.

327 notes · View notes

captain-mj · 2 months

Note

Bro you cannot just drop prep/jock soap and goth ghost and dip. We need you to give us your brain worms so we can analyze it like a science project

When you have time of course

I will put my worms in a petri dish for you

Soap was an artist! He liked sketching and painting and the act of making art. But he didn't like art essays. The explaining over and over again each detail. Breaking down everything until it felt like a bunch of paint strokes instead of art.

But part of an art degree is a ton of art essays. So Soap went to the museum to write what he needed. He preferred museums to finding art online. A big part of art for him was texture. His preference would've been to touch the art, to feel the paint underneath his fingers. But the assignment specified art from the Baroque period and therefore they had to be older and no museum was going to allow his grubby hands to touch the art.

Soap glanced down one of halls to see if there was anything interesting there when he faltered.

Oh lord.

The man was big. His shoulders. His height. The thighs he had that looked like tree trunks. It was all covered in tight black fabric and silver chains. A work of bloody art himself.

Soap had to hold himself back from wolf whistling.

Once he was done objectifying admiring the man's body, he looked higher up. There was a mask covering the bottom of his face, the only thing visible being his eyes which had heavy eyeliner on them. He could still see the locs of bleached blond hair that surrounded him like a halo.

Soap wanted to paint him.

"You gonna stare all day?" Someone snarked at him and he jumped, glancing at a slightly smaller blond man. He looked at him like he was gross and for a brief moment, he worried he might be about to be hate crimed. The man looked a lot the other one actually now that he was looking closer. Dressed the same way too.

"Aye, what's your fucking problem with it?"

The man's face scrunched. "Ew." He walked away, leaving Soap rather confused but now a bit determined to talk to mystery man.

Pretending to be looking through the paintings, he got closer to him.

Dark brown eyes quickly glanced over at him before glancing back at the paintings.

"Hey. My name is Soap."

"Ghost."

Ooh, he's from Manchester and sticks with his aesthetic. Nice. He'd prefer a not British person, but as far as British people go, he could do worse than Manchester. He glanced at the painting Simon had been admiring.

The Raising of Lazarus by Rembrandt.

"It's a lovely painting." Soap put on his normal charm, acting suave and polite.

"Aye." Ghost gruffed and went quiet again, staring in simple contemplation. His arms were crossed, making already large arms flex.

Soap started to take notes for his assignment. Although he was definitely hoping to score well in more than one ways, he did need to take notes for his assignment.

Ghost glanced over at what he was writing quizzically and Soap answered the unasked question. "I'm doing a project."

"Fun." He huffed and looked back at the painting.

Soap looked down at his chest and licked his hips. "Yeah, it's a good one." He kept writing stuff. "You a college student?"

"Yeah."

"What do you study?"

"Forensics. I'm assuming you're art?"

"Chemistry with a minor in art!" Right as Soap went to mention how funny it was that they didn't share any classes, Ghost interrupted him.

"Wait. Johnny? Johnny MacTavish? We share several classes."

Soap brightened. "Do you dress like this all the time?" There was zero chance he did or Soap would already know his name, address and dick size.

"We have morning classes together. I don't dress up for morning classes." Ghost said decisively. He stretched and shook his head.

How did he manage to not notice the shoulders though at least? The man was huge. He was also several inches taller than Soap and therefore the majority of the class. Maybe if he sat in the back and left later than everyone?

Soap nodded. "Understandable. You look nice."

"Nice huh?" Ghost smiled at him. He could tell cause his eyes scrunched slightly.

"Yeah. Nice." Soap said softly, his chest doing something weird.

They stared at the painting a while before Ghost pulled away to start exploring the rest of the exhibit.

Soap finished up the notes he needed to write his paper and then started to walk with him. He tried to find his opening during all of this.

Ghost stopped at a very specific painting.

ARTEMESIA GENTILESCHI, JUDITH SLAYING HOLOFERNES, C. 1612–1613

The art was... stunning. The red, faded from time and wear, was still beautiful against the white of the blankets.

The women held him down and there was a movement to it that Soap wanted in his own work. His fingers trembled with the want to touch it. To feel the texture of the paint under his fingers. Ridges and bumps and smooth layers of the different strokes.

Ghost hummed. "I don't really get art. It's pretty but some people look at it and it... gives them something. An epiphany."

Soap hummed. "I find touching it helps."

Ghost looked at him, raking his eyes over him. "I see. Do you want to head out then?"

Soap frowned. "Why?"

"You're a piece of art and I'm looking for an epiphany."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap #btw the mystery guy is Tommy #He's not homophobic #just thinks that liking his brother is gross

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cindylcuwho · 1 month

Note

do hcs of enemies to lovers w chris pleaseee

“ childhood friends? ★ “

— ꒰ 🍒 summary ꒱ headcanons about going from childhood enemies to falling in love at the junior dance. — ꒰ 🐁 warnings ꒱ angst to fluff, nothing else. 1700 words. — ꒰ 💭 madds note ꒱ idek what i’m talking abt in this yall im so tired 😭

elementary school

— you weren’t sure what you did to offend chris enough to make him hate you as much as he did. in fact you two were good friends and then one day in first grade he didn’t swing on the swings with you.

— chris knew though, and he never could seem to let it go. he’s the youngest of the triplets, and one of his biggest fears is people liking his brothers more.

— you were his best friend, you just worked in a way that made him feel like he’d be seen lesser compared to either one of his brothers.

— you did everything together, even had your mom pack an extra dessert so neither chris or you would get the smaller uneven amount of a broken up one.

— but on a certain day chris had stayed home sick with a stomach bug, he spent the whole day watching cartoons and trying to convince justin to let him call your house phone on his phone later.

— soon time had passed when school got out and when nick and matt came running through the door they were extra giddy. both of them spent the rest of the day practically bragging about how much fun you three had together.

— nick, who talked about how easily you chased him down during a game of freeze tag, and matt, who mentioned sitting next to you during class, and playing on the swings.

— on his swing, next to you in his seat. chris couldn’t believe it. he didn’t show up for one day and you’re swingset buddies with his own brother?

— about a week later when he was able to go back to school, chris was still livid about it. matt didn’t mention a second time you swung on the swingset together, but he could only assume it did in fact happen.

— during class you acted like nothing happened, finger painting like you normally would. he kept his anger chill, but with shorter replies and eyes rolls.

— you assumed it was just the coming-over-being-sick mood swings. but short replies was nothing like chris, even as a little seven year old that kid would talk for hours if allowed.

— ‘fine then’ he thought. recess started and chris stayed far away from the swingset. instead he just played basketball with some of his other friends.

— since then short replies and eye rolls is all you knew chris as. it did kinda hurt, i mean he was your closest friend and then a week after him not showing up to school he comes back a whole different person.

middle school

— by sixth grade his ‘hatred’ for you only made you grow an annoyance for him.

— he would constantly pull on your hair pulling you back on his desk, and even made attempts to trip you every now and then.

— often times you’d be confused about what you even did to make him act this way. even nick and matt were confused ‘cause at home he never acted poorly.

— the teacher thought it’d be a good idea to group you two together and said it’d help you grow close again.

— that barely worked. chris didn’t want to study at your house, and he would make backhanded comments the whole time.

— the only time he was even remotely nice it was in front of his parents, would even invite you to stay over for dinner knowing it was what marylou would want to hear.

— those kind five second gestures backfired. heavily.

— chris was trying to play mario kart with justin, but was pulled away and being told he had to go shopping for nice clothes since he was taking you to the upcoming dance.

— he was moaning and groaning the whole time. meanwhile nick and matt and teasing him about his “crush” on you.

— poor little you was under the impression that chris himself wanted to take you, not that he was being forced. and it didn’t help when he seemed genuinely happy while jimmy was making you guys pose in front of the garage.

— the idea of him beginning to like you again was crushed as soon as you walked into the dance. chris avoided you all night, even going as far as having his friends tell you he went home.

— he didn’t, you knew he didn’t. chris wasn’t slick at all and you saw him talking it up with stacy hoover by the gym water fountain.

— that’s when you decided he was officially an enemy.

— chris was prepared for you to hit back with your own snarky comments and eye rolls, but he loved a challenge.

— the classroom turned into a practical war zone, the teacher had to do the most to keep you separated after you and him ruined each others clothes with paint.

high school

— chris hadn’t seen you all summer. he couldn’t even recognize you walking into the new school grounds as a freshman.

— your hair was better, slimmer figure and new clothes. he was immediately jealous seeing someone try and talk to you the first five minutes of school.

— you didn’t share many classes during freshman year, but still managed to bicker at the lunch table even after being placed at opposite ends.

— sophomore year was almost the same, except this time chris was the one to have a huge glow up.

— you weren’t a liar by any means, so saying he was unattractive would be a huge sin. but sadly, you weren’t the only one to notice.

— you were completely aware of the stares he got, and for some odd reason they made you feel jealous. that’s when nick was convinced you two were in love, but you kept swearing it would never happen.

— chris didn’t believe it for one second when matt talked to him about you taking an interest in him. you two were at a constant battle - to like him would be like a spaceship crashing down after an attempt to go to space.

— junior year everything changed.

— you two still weren’t fond, but you had completely given up fighting with him and he couldn’t believe it.

— “im done, okay? you win, chris. you win.” you didn’t even slam your locker, you delicately closed it and handed him a paper with what he needed to do for the group project before walking off.

— he didn’t back off, but he wasn’t as harsh. there was still eye rolls but he stopped with the comments, and the attempts to humiliate you.

— when dance season came again, chris was considering asking if you had a date. ‘not ‘cause he cares’ (he did so much) but because he didn’t want to go alone.

— chris was lividly butthurt over you for the second time in his life. he heard from nick who heard from madi who heard from jason who heard him his best friend dylan that you said yes to going with michael.

— you looked beautiful that night. what a shame michael never came though. you didn’t find out until years later, but matt decided enough was enough and scared michael off, giving chris a clear opportunity to swoop in and be the good guy again.

— and he did. chris sat by you, secretly hoping michael would never walk through the doors. after an hour, he stood and pulled you to the middle of the gym, not wanting you to have a depressed night.

— you belong with me by taylor swift was playing, but you two still slow danced. your head was on his chest, and he was smiling like a kid in a candy store.

— when the song changed you two broke apart, but kept you heads close together. his nose brushed yours and the look in his eyes was no longer hatred, he was back to the same seven year old that you brought extra desserts for, and were about to kiss.

— it wasn’t the best kiss you guys shared. it was both of your first times so there was no guide into it, but it was still cute.

— the rest of the school year you two were a lot more kinder to each other, offering to walk each other to a class, borrowing pencils when you both did in fact have one.

— the secret kisses too. anytime no one was looking chris instantly would catch your lips with his. overtime it got more riskier, but that only added fun to keeping secrets.

— by senior year every single one of your friends was suspicious. they all interrogated nate first, considering he’s who chris would tell anything.

— he didn’t fess anything up, but when alahna offered free mcdonalds after every hockey game he spilled the beans.

— chris wasn’t mad, he was waiting for it to happen. he spent almost a week dodging questions about your now not-so-secret kissing adventures from nick and matt.

— at a family dinner, nick decided to talk about how friendly you two have gotten and everybody was able to connect the dots.

— marylou had a talk with chris, saying if he wanted to ask you out he had to do it the right way, in person, preferably on a date, and make sure you didn’t feel pressured.

— and that’s what he did. well, what a seventeen going on eighteen year old could do.

— he didn’t have the big youtube money yet so the most he could afford was taco bell. it was okay though, you admired the effort.

— he followed the steps, but ended up getting words gambled and asking if you felt like his girlfriend. it was funny though, so laughing your head off you said yeah, and chris asked if for a quick moment so he could restart.

— then all of a sudden you’re graduating. your last name was before theirs so chris made nick carry him on his shoulders so he could see you accept the paper thing.

— after a year or two, you were a special guest on the podcast and when making a joke about the rivalry, chris went on a ten minute rant about how he was jealous you swung with someone else.

— after finding out that though you decided to buy a swing set as a christmas gift him to put in the backyard.

— ꒰ ☀️ ꒱ @freshloveee , @mattscoquette , @itzdarling , @freshloveforthefit , @junnniiieee07 .

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cowboyjen68 · 1 month

Note

Hello Cowboy Jen! I was wondering if you had any advice for me

Here’s the situation- I’m a young lesbian (I’ll be 17 going into college) and I’m going to study geology. I’m assuming my classes and later on my work environments are going to be mostly men since geology is a male-dominated field. Any advice for being in spaces without very many women? And picking a different field’s not a very good option either, geology’s been my obsession since I was five and I doubt I could give any other field as much attention and focus.

When I was DEAD SET on being in the DNR or a Forest Ranger or some kind of Park worker I was in my tweens and early teens. I loved the idea of working with people and animals and outside and getting to use my hands and my knowledge of land and history. Then some Jack Ass at the Corps of Engineers station I volunteered at told me women couldn't really do the job right and it was too dangerous and I lost confidence. I stopped going and didn't reapply for the Mayor's Youth Parks program I had worked at for two years. I just left the idea behind. I see now all the older women park rangers that are around and read stories of women like my current boss who was a naturalist for years in our county. I work at a nature center almost entirely staffed by strong women with the exception of the CEO, the marketing guy and one outreach guy. If I had seen any of these women in my teens i would have said "heck yeah women can do this".

You are going to be that leader, that beacon. That is a thought to keep in your pocket on hard days.

The truth about working with men is, in general, they don't really care and they kinda just feel awkward. They lack social skills around women so they end up saying the dumbest stuff. I am not saying men can't be total pains in the ass or feel threatened by you being around, they absolutely can. At the end of the day we are all human and women are 50% of the population so at some point they have dealt with women in class or at a job.

Mostly just start off with giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. Saying stupid stuff to try and be funny is not the same as harassment or hate. If you don't feel offended or insulted or threatened don't try feel like you are because you think you are supposed to be.

Look them in the eye, do listen to those who have good things to share, teach or discuss. Don't dismiss men for being men. Just as many humans, they want to share what they know and tell you what they have learned. I have been taught so much by the men I work with at the farm but I had to tell myself to listen and not just paint them in my brain as being bossy or mansplaining.

Don't shy away from questions when you need help. Ask when you need to ask and thank them for helping when they do. If you are interrupted by them say "I am not finished, please wait your turn" or something similar. Stand up for your right to share what you know or to get more information when you require it.

Basically, think of men as neutrally as possible until one proves he is to be avoided or ignored. Listen to your gut if you feel unsafe or degraded and keep notes on that behavior. If you must, tell your professor or a dept head if you feel like the bad actor will continue or possible endanger you.

Once you learn your trade you can recruit other women and share your love of your job/degree and some day it will not be more men than women around you!

#trades #women #on the job #careers #college

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sevenpoyo · 10 months

Text

school headcanons for because i only got 3 more weeks

margo’s is so long even tho she got like 2 minutes of screen time bc i love her so much and she’s my gf

Margo Kess, 1610Miles, 42Miles, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar

margo kess / spiderbyte

ain’t shorty on zoom in the movie?

my girl dont attend class, she once shut down the entire blocks power so she would have an excuse to not be in class

eats in class all class everyday, only shares with you

takes really good notes and never studies them

like???? ma’am??? share???

all her electives are programming related and she pretends to busy while playing centipede all day

sends you 50 links to stuff you might like while ur in math

she got papers that let her opt out of gym

no matter how much you beg ur gonna be alone in gym and she doesn’t feel bad about it

popular with no friends type

like everyday 50 ppl stop you both and say hi

she only knows like 5 of their names she can’t stand half of them niggas

empty ass backpack like she got one notebook and one binder

all a’s and b’s like bitch how

her memory is absolutely ass but she can remember every story you told her or stuff that happened when y’all hang out

don’t ask her what she did in her class

don’t ask her if her class also has a history test

she don’t know

she don’t care

but she do know that when you were 8 your cousin burned ur thigh while y’all were playing iron vs knife fight

(u were dumb as hell for picking knife everyone knows iron always wins)

i looked it up on her word everybody uses those virtual avatars

she’ll shit on your class choices so damn hard

she just likes making fun of your choices fr

like half of ur conversation go;

damn i’m tired

u was up doing stupid shit last night you don’t get to complain

stfu that’s why ur a bitmoji

that’s why ur granny beat ur ass for something your brother did when you were 9

i hate telling u shit

then stop telling me shit

(i have no clue how accurate this is to her character but i need to write about her i’m in love but damn it’s long)

1610 miles / spider-man 2 lmao

book bag full locker full but never has a pencil

writes notes assignments and homework in paint pen ink don’t ask this nigga for notes

(he gets nigga treatment but not my queen margo bc i got favorites)

he miss mad classes but somehow still solid attendance record???

somehow always present in the record he miss 40 days and get caught on like 6 of them

unless his mom make breakfast and lunch on her day off for him he eating the most random shit from the bodega closest to visions

like what do you mean you got a cosmic brownie and a cold chopped cheese from last night ? it’s literally 7 in the morning no i don’t want none

makes you hype him up every time he slap boxes people and he’s so ass at it

he be ashy with no lotion atleast 5 times every month it’s embarrassing

he calls visions his white people school to his parents and his friends

once he said it to gwen and they sat in literal complete silence for like 10 minutes

prolly took music theory because he thought it would be easy and switched out of that shit so fast

i’d be so mean to him for enjoying physics

like this nigga trying to make something of him self

lil einstein ass nigga

he understands color theory but can’t explain it

12 half full sketchbooks but at school he literally draw on computer paper he don’t let the sketch book leave his bag

i know he’s ass at watercolor, he always spills shit, the colors always end up brown

try’s to be interested in your class choices bc he wants to know stuff he can talk about with you

when you first meet he can’t take meaner jokes bc he thinks that you mean them

but one day he’s gets comfortable, and brutal

no one in your life is safe when he looses a video game

except your mom

rio taught him better than that

42 miles / the prowler

comes to school with no school related supplies in his bag unless you count art stuff

finds a pencil on his way to class

has a change of clothes, rat tail comb, 3 bottles of water, a camera, a flashlight, lotion and cocoa butter.

like bro ur going to Ap Art not a camping trip

once he pulled out a griddle and and pancake mix and y’all started making pancakes in class

forgets his metro pass every day and gets so pissed ab it

runs into people in the hallway bc he’s never paying attention

idk if he goes to visions but if he does he calls it his white people school with his full chest to anybody even if they’re white

he be leaving halfway through the day all the time like bro you miss algebra 2 every damn day

uncle arron always talking him out of school with some bullshit reason

bro’s had his tonsils out 8 times on the school’s records

He will get ur parents to put his uncle on ur pickup list and you will be out of there with him

he will YELL if someone step on his shoes no matter what the situation like the school could be on fire and he fighting in the burning building

also his uniform is so pristine

his pants stiff

that button down is bleached ironed pressed and allat

this mfer is an online shopping addict u just know he be on amazon in class

will offer you the weirdest food combos like no i don’t want to put tajin mangoes on my beef patty i’m sick of you nigga

not school related but he’s super good with kids (both miles fr) but he’s the #1 little cousin defender and apologists

he ride for them always one of ur little cousins could sucker punch u and he be like

‘they just want u to play with them’

he takes a preforming arts class for fun prolly

loves sports but doesn’t play one understands the stats well and would help if you played one

wakes up at the asscrack of dawn on weekends

SICK ASS COSTUME FOR HOLLOWEEN IK THIS NIGGA LOVE HOLLOWEEN

plans costumes for school spirit weeks but always checks to seen if he’s gonna be the only one wearing a costume for it

never eats lunch unless his mom makes it he be hungry all day and be complaining

his socks are never in uniform (yes some uniform schools have sock rules)

gwen stacy / spider woman / ghost spider

idk what to call her

she has every snack you could ever want in her lunch bag

hates her music theory teacher

she literally has the most pristine locker with a calendar and a mirror and all that shit will write down test for you and important dates for the both of you

goes to school plays and shits on the story, like she ain’t pay 5 dollars to be there

some of her teachers hate her

like ma’am ur beefing with a whole 16 year old rn

she hate english teachers but love creative writing teachers

she keeps all her books in her locker never brings them home never brings them to class

always comes through with an extra pad no matter what

she also always has hand sanitizer

in like 4 extracurricular after school things and complains so bad

ur starting to hate that shit to ur sick of hearing it like girl quit then

10/10 cameraman she has every fight and every drama in 10khd and she will share them if you ask

she chews her pens and nails

has her drumsticks out always teachers have banned her from taking them to their classes

can watch tv on her phone but look focused you think she’s paying attention but then you look over and she’s watching good luck charlie

pavitr prabhakar / spider-man india

always late for class never in trouble

always eating and sharing food and never in trouble

how is he blessed like this? it ain’t fair

eats from the school vending machines or begs other ppl to share

will always have and share the homework answers no matter what he’s an angel

his sock always have holes in them like sir please get that shit together

gym try hard ik goes insane in football/soccer

very encouraging for shit u don’t wanna do he believes in you

you him and Gayatri talk so much shit but are somehow all well liked

he tells you what teachers are dating (he can just tell)

he has toothpaste in his bag for some reason?? i can just feel this one

his aunt will let you come over after school she’s so sweet to you.

always got a job at school assemblies

he’s reading poems or shaking hand or leading in the school pledge or something

Pav’s is short because i have no fucking clue if school in India is different form america and Barbados

#miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #margo kess x reader #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr my beloved #atsv x reader #atsv spoilers #spider byte x reader #the prowler x reader #42 miles morales x reader

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mysteriawrites · 5 months

Note

hi 🗣️ may i please request a bg3 matchup?? (i'm p sure i've done matchups for you in the past on my sideblog @frostfall-matches - i'd be happy to make this an exchange if you want!! 💪 you may ignore the fact that my requests are listed as closed lol)

raven / 20s / any pronouns / slight preference for male match but gals are fine too.

personality traits (and notes): introverted (distant, disinterested in getting close to many people, does not get lonely), extremely independent (often refuses to rely on others, hates when people step in to help without me asking for help), confident (arrogant, a bit prideful), straightforward (blunt, sometimes tactless), even-tempered (somewhat apathetic, rarely has strong emotional reactions, but is baseline content almost always), good sense of humor, playful, teasing, mischievous, realist that leans optimistic, curious (nosey, loves gossip), a bit of a troublemaker/rulebreaker, does not shy away from conflict (a bit combative with authority and people who don’t know what they’re doing), not sentimental, does not hold onto regrets, good at self-reflection, cold and a little mean when upset with someone.

hobbies: drawing (digital), painting (watercolor, acrylic), baking, cosplay, reading, taking care of plants, thrill-seeking activities, traveling.

likes: cats, sweets, good food, lattes, aromatic candles, cool weather, traveling, piercings, tattoos, puns (!), lazy days, learning foreign languages, cleaning, new experiences, people with a good sense of humor (quite subjective), when people banter back with me, people who develop their own opinions but are still willing to listen to other perspectives.

dislikes: bitter foods, strong scents, pessimism, hot weather, feeling restricted, possessiveness, conformity, having to be responsible for others, when people don’t stand up for themselves, overly anxious people, people-pleasers, when people act condescending towards me, people who try to force conversation with me.

types: intj-a ; 7w8 ; love languages: physical touch, quality time.

misc.: clumsy ; accidentally misuses slang or phrases bc i can never remember how they go ; able to pick up new skills relatively quickly ; studied french, korean, and latin in uni (also studied abroad) ; majors in international cultures/languages + minors in psychology and medieval history ; prone to being a bit directionless in life ; prone to bad luck but tries to find the humor in most situations ; life approach: to live a life of varied experiences, to not take life too seriously, to not dwell too much on the past.

physical description: 155cm, green eyes, round youthful face, curvy, dimple on one cheek, pale skin (sunburns so easily...), 5 piercings in one ear, 4+an industrial in the other, navel piercing. changes hair color/style/length frequently but it's currently mid back length and toned silver, almost always has straight bangs, hair is wavy.

in bg3 persona: wood elf ; main class ranger (gloomstalker) w/ rogue-like tendencies ; the child of merchant parents and did a lot of traveling with them when she was young but has decided to explore and adventure by herself in adulthood ; not really the academic type but is pretty book smart and willing to learn new things ; equal parts strategic and careless, depending on the situation.

Omg hi and thx for the request! Sure I’d love to turn this into a trade and thank you for all the matchups you’ve done for me in the past!

Astarion!!!

Lowkey this was an easy decision. I feel like you couldn’t be a better match for anyone else, but him. You guys have similar personalities with just enough differences to bring the necessary variety to the relationship.

I feel like you guys would definitely bump heads when first meeting due to similar traits (prideful, apathetic, loner), but once you both begin to care more for your party members including each other than sparks start to fly!

You get close very quickly because it’s so easy to banter and bounce off each other.

At first he finds you optimistic and care free nature a bit annoying at first, but then begins to find is refreshing when times are bleak.

I feel like when Astarion’s trying to seduce you for your own goals and you aren’t falling for it, it’ll be the classic troupe of where person A gets every person to swoon over them except person B which makes them want person B even more.

However when he actually starts falling for you he does get nervous and start to back off a bit, but oh no you’re not letting him get away from you that easily.

Due to your knowledge in psychology you’re able to notice his self destructive behaviors and talk him out of it, but ultimately let him take the lead in figuring out what he wants in life.

Also because of your blunt nature you’re able to deliver the hard truths that he needs to hear without sugur coating things.

Even after your mindflayer worm adventures, you two continue to adventure for awhile. Sharing lots if experiences and fun on the road.

If you get yourself into a tough altercation with some people on the road, Astarion’s charisma helps defuse the situation.

Astarion is still working on his trauma so you’ll have to work up to physical touch with him, but once you do he really likes being held and playing with your hair. He also likes to trace your tattoos.

Astarion is also an introvert so he understands how you need to have alone time as much as he himself does. Although sometimes you guys will be in the same room doing your own things and count it as quality time. (Yknow like comfortable silence)

When you’re having a chill day on the road or once your adventuring days are over, you guys have lazy days together. You’ll cuddle and he’ll read to you. You guys may get a bit intimate but don’t necessarily have sex (not saying it never happens though).

You guys exchange elvish traditions (or what astarion can remember of them) and talk about the history of faerun together.

He gets you a lot of souvenirs on the road usually different snacks and foods for you to try with the occasional scented candle or new set of paints. He even gets you seeds of the local plant life for you to grow.

You guys would get a cat. So many people say astarion is a cat person and I whole heartedly agree.

He (loves) hates your puns. He cringes so hard every time you make one (but he finds your smug face very adorable).

Yknow that popular headcanon about how Astarion’s lover would paint a picture of him so he can finally see what he looks like. Well if you would do that as like a birthday or anniversary present and man would full on cry from happiness at the gesture.

He just loves you so much and is so grateful to finally have someone in his life to bring him joy again.

Sorry id this kind of sucks im writing this early in the morning cause I was inspired.

Runners Up: Lae’zel, Karlach

#multi fandom blog #multifandom account #multifandom #multifandom writer #multi fandoms posts #multifandom fanfiction #multifandom x reader #multifandom imagines #matchups #bg3 x reader #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate iii #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x reader

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flautistsandpeonies · 2 years

Text

Fanon Petpeeve: Wei Wuxian the Sloven & Lan Wangji the Impeccable

Now, this is found in pretty much all types of fics, Modern AU, Burial Mounds Days Fix its, Cloud Recesses Days, etc.

In these fics Wei Wuxian is a slob. He puts no work into his appearance (hair is a mess/never combed and his clothes are wrinkly and covered in mysterious stains), he speaks without thinking, often getting himself and others in trouble, and he’s extra annoyingly loud and gets on everyone’s nerves. While there are a couple throw away lines about him being intelligent you rarely see that because Wei Wuxian is written to be about messy explosions, his living space is unorganized, he’s scatterbrained, and his entire being so chaotic the reader/lwj wonders how he survives. (Almost like a five year old covered in paint to be honest.)

In Modern fics (ones set in high school), Wei Wuxian is always second best. He just can’t get his grades high enough like Lan Wangji can- because he hates/can’t study you see, he just can’t bring himself to do it. (Studying in modern aus are the meditation equivalent of fics in the canon timeline)

Oppositely, Lan Wangji in these fics is just perfect. He’s always right about every single topic no matter even if he’s never experienced anything to do with it before. He never makes mistakes. He has his life together, but is drawn to the “chaos” that is Wei Wuxian’s life.

Now, Lan Wangji is a neat and clean person. He’s an incredibly smart individual and one of the best cultivators of his generation but not in the way these fics portray him. He’s written more as a god like figure than the human he is. He’s written to be better than Wei Wuxian, like Wei Wuxian is a disaster waiting to happen who’s not worthy of the Second Jade of Lan. Lan Wangji is put on this high, unreachable pedestal looking down on everyone below him while Wei Wuxian is supposed to play in the mud with Wen Yuan screaming that 2+5=7 is the discovery of the century.

This is especially damaging to their relationship in fics. In these, Wei Wuxian is beset upon by literally everyone (Yanli, Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen, Wen Qing, etc) for being too stupid or in other cases having too low self esteem/self worth to realize that Lan Wangji is in love with him. He has to be explained to like a child why its so important and an honor that the wondrous Hanguang-jun is in love with someone like him. It’s yet another iteration of the Wei Wuxian is Oblivious fanon that I want to burn to the ground.

Side Note: Is anyone else disturbed that there are so many fics that have a bunch of gentry characters talking down to a lower class individual about how he should be grateful that another gentry character is in love with him?

---------------------------------------------

In fics set during the canon timeline, I’ve noticed a phenomenon that I’m going to call “The Lan Way or the Silk Road”.

In these fics, the Lan Sect is the pinnacle of righteousness who can never do anything wrong ever. The siege on the Burial Mounds? Never heard of her. Their participation is making Wen Yuan an orphan? That’s Wei Wuxian’s fault for not coming to them and informing them of who the Wens really were. Lan Qiren’s hatred of Wei Wuxian? Well, if Wei Wuxian just listened to authority and stopped being a disobedient son of a servant!

The Lan sleep schedule is the only right sleep schedule to the point where Lan Wangji constantly interrupts Wei Wuxian’s sleep and forces him to stay awake, even if he’s noticeably tired and needing more rest. The library holds the secrets and answers to everything which is why Wei Wuxian should just let Lan Wangji take him to Gusu. The Lans have the answers to his problem if he would just let them help. Stupid Wei Ying.

The Lans, of course, are especially right about Wei Wuxian’s cultivation. They know more about demonic cultivation than Wei Wuxian does. In fact, in fics where Wei Wuxian is resurrected, Lan Wangji will sometimes explain demonic cultivation to him.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #lwj

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mickeytheticklee · 2 years

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W rizz

Wednesday rizz

Ler!Wednesday Lee!Enid

Something shifted on Wednesday's day. Like it seemed like a normal school day in Nevermore, but something was off. On a sunny, shining morning Enid wasn't in her bed. It was routine that Enid came jerking and waking up Wednesday until she demanded Enid to stop it. It was odd, she didn't come to lunch, she skipped one of the few classes they had together, then ran to be alone in Eugene's lair of bees. Before their last class, Wednesday went to Yoko, keeping her monotone voice but inside she was seconds away from her voice cracking down and her balling into tears.

Wednesday: Enid hasn't annoyed me all day. Tell me where she is now or else I'm harming the first person I lay my eyes on. Starting with you.

Yoko: Chill, don't hurt me. Enid got into a fight with her parents yesterday, she's fine now but it was rough this morning.

As bubbly as she is Enid periodically keeps the sad stuff to herself. Wednesday didn't know until today from Yoko about Enid's parents, and how her Mom constantly pushes her into wolf conversion camp. When the sweet girl is sad, she never wants it to affect Wednesday. She instead separates herself and comes into public view until she's ready. Wednesday spent the remaining break time shedding her tears and expressing her thoughts to Thing in the bathroom stall. Thing said she saw Enid laughing it up with Bianca, however, Wednesday knew a part of her was only being happy as a way to hide her struggles. Thing suggested to do the code word: two snaps, Wednesday pulls a heavy sigh. Not that she didn't want to do it, but she still struggled with the how. But Thing tells times where Enid truly smiles, to where Wednesday misses it and lets her guard down by smiling. Her recalling how ticklish she is was now Wednesday's reason to make her gf happy.

Wednesday: Fine, but tell a living soul about this and I'll restrict your manicure time with Enid.

Thing swore to Wednesday as she goes to class where Enid waves at her. She apologizes for the absence and says it's because she was doing her missing assignments for other classes. Wednesday couldn't believe that excuse, she was a Straight A student all around. The whole class was spent in a study hall, both were concentrating on their textbooks about anatomy. While Enid was lodged in her book Wednesday snuck in a few side pokes which made Enid jump. She looks around, thinking it's Yoko or Ajax but they're on the other side of the classroom. It happens again, two pokes that make her jump and drop her pencil and water bottle. She checks under the desk for Thing, no sight of them but just a pair of fingers painted black that was tickling her sides again. Enid covers herself in the book and whispers to Wednesday who pretends to not be bothered by Enid's dilemma.

Enid: Addams, are you the one tickling me?

Wednesday: Yes.

Enid: But why?

Wednesday: You don't want to know why.

Enid hated Wednesday's short answers but loved that she might potentially get tickled. Any feeling or thought of getting tickled can easily erase the bad day Enid has been feeling. She secretly cheers from inside her book before going back to her sad aura for the entire period. After more pokes, and Enid's improvement in holding in her laughs the long period was over. Enid was still focusing on her note-taking until everyone left the room, Wednesday did a surprise attack on her side and neck making Enid laugh and fall off her high stool chair. Wednesday was smirking over the book, she has a thing for Enid's high-pitched laugh.

Enid: HEHEHEHE why did you do that??

Wednesday: Your tickling laughter is much different than your normal laughter?

Enid: So you like my laugh?

Wednesday: Don't push it Sinclair.

Enid did think the constant teasing and the sudden attack were all Wednesday had to offer to cheer her up. She was feeling better at the thought of Wednesday being kind enough to tickle her. But soon the black cloud came back during Enid's sailboating class, all she wishes and craves is Wednesday to tickle her. It's been clogging up her mind so badly that Yoko got mad at how distracted she was. But luckily those thoughts made her not think about what she was originally sad about. She went back to her room, coming in she didn't see the sight Wednesday doing her typewriting activity. When she closed the door she was met with the surprise of Wednesday tackling her to her pink-infested bed, tickling her sides insanely. Wednesday didn't need to pin Enid down, the deep side tickles were ticklish enough for Enid to not endure. Wednesday worried for nothing if Enid was the sensitive type who would laugh at anything.

Enid: WENSWENSWENS PLSHAHHAHHAH

Wednesday: You were quite dumb for thinking this wasn't going to happen, I gave you hints all day.

All there was as a hint was Enid being poked a few times, she never expected Wednesday to pull a tickle monster attack. While Wednesday was tickling Enid's armpits and neck relentlessly she was starting to understand the liking of tickling. Besides Enid's big smile causing a pink shade on Wednesday's face she liked that tickling was technically a torture method. A torture method that doesn't cause any harm just laughs. She liked Enid's reactions and her squeaky laugh, also how she stands up whenever the pinching got close to her hips. Since no one was here she can smile freely at Enid's laugh. When Enid had enough for now Wednesday stopped momentarily. Enid was too tired to notice Wednesday was smiling at how tired she was from the tickling. Enid wasn't out of breath, but not too passed out to call it quits. However, the call out of Wednesday's sudden attitude made her punished with tickles.

Enid: You're smiling WAITHAHAHAHAHA

Wednesday: I told you I'll kill you if you noticed my smile.

Enid: SORRYSORRY

She went back to tickling Enid's tummy, this time adding her feet to the equation. Her body was curled up, which took the right opportunity to tickle her feet and eventually get her armpit at the same time. Enid was yelling thru her screaming laughs, wondering how Wednesday became good at this. Wednesday just said it's easy, which is particularly true since her demand got Enid to lift her arms to tickle every part of her armpit. The secret is, she learned from Thing as sometimes Enid shares her secrets with the hand who's a good listener. She did another break since Wednesday and is worried that Enid would soon lose her voice over the amount of laughing she's doing. But soon the tickling intrigues her when she rubs Enid's stomach and her foot moves. She forgets how Enid's wolf powers are still engraved into her human self, which Wednesday thought was pretty cute. Which she won't admit to Enid.

Wednesday: My puppy...

Enid: What did you say HAHAHAHAHA

Wednesday: Oh nothing...

Then Wednesday ruins the sweet moments by pinching and squeezing every part of her ticklish tummy. Wednesday was becoming terrible at keeping a straight face thru her enjoyment of tickling Enid. Any slight chance of her gf catching it makes her tickle her ribs to forget what she saw five seconds ago. The thighs were a deadly spot, Wednesday was happy over Enid's NONOs when she approaches her thighs. Her laughter over Wednesday pinching her thighs was top-notch. It was a dangerous combo for Wednesday to tickle her thighs, but also move to her toes. Enid officially gave up as her body was sore from the endless hour of laughter Wednesday gave to her.

Enid: STOP STOP HAHAHHAHAIM HAPPY NOWHAHHAH

Wednesday: I don't believe you.

Enid: THELAUGHINGSHOULDOFGAVEITAWSY

Wednesday stopped, and Enid gave Wednesday a long hug. It struck a strong emotion in Wednesday, a feeling of warmth that warms up her cold heart. They looked at each other, still, Enid laying on the bed setting her hands on Wednesday's soft cheeks. Enid didn't want this to be awkward until the other friend softly kissed her, causing a sweet but unexpected moment. Their eyes widen after, but they went back to kissing. Then Wednesday took this small opportunity to give a neck raspberry to Enid, which she laughed hard at. Wednesday started to smile at how red Enid's face was, it was the cutest thing she's ever laid eyes on. Now Enid was back to normal, her puppy smiles and big smile being on and her ready to annoy Wednesday with facts about K-pop idols.

Enid: I was thinking we- HAHAHAHAHAHA

Wednesday: Or maybe I should keep going.

Wednesday says massaging her sides and digging her thumbs for it which causes Enid to go crazy over it. She's crazy over a lot of things, mostly over how evil Wednesday can be with tickling. More evil than usual. After finally getting all those giggles out she hugged Wednesday, tighter than before since she loves tight hugs. Especially the ones where she doesn't have the range to move her arms. She hugs her for a straight five minutes before kissing her again. Then they continued their activities of doing hw and Wednesday spent her night playing the cello. They ate dinner with their friend group and they were surprised at how Enid bounced back from her happy self. She lied and said she watched some Seventeen videos when in reality her girlfriend was wrecking her. They looked at each other and smiled, holding hands from under the table. They whisper I love you in each other's ears.

Enid: Love you Wens.

Wednesday: You too my little bad wolf.

Enid was blushing so hard after that.

#Yeaa I'm finished #But I made this around 3am yk the drill #Wenclair my favorite ship #Also yes my writing is terrible but I was planning on making a fic about these two #Even tho I'm not sure if this would ever happen #Prob tho #Anyway enjoy #Tickle #Wednesday #Wenclair #enid

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violet-stormbringer · 1 month

Text

The Princess and The Thorne, Chapter Nine: Exam Season

Unfortunately for Ras, it was exam season soon, as warned by her teachers.

She hated exam season. For many reasons, but mostly because she hated exams. She hated tests. She could do and ace them, sure, but they were just a recounting of knowledge, she wasn’t actually learning anything!

That was the whole point of throwing herself into her studies, after all! She loved to learn things! Not review them!

She groaned, leaning back in her chair and staring out the window.

Spring had arrived in earnest in the Gallatin Mountains, painting color across the landscape. More Bellflowers had sprouted next to the one Ras had asked Karson to keep around, and she grinned whenever she passed them. Bright crocuses carpeted the grass of the quad; in the woods, snowdrops and spring snowflakes were suddenly everywhere, and the trees heavy with sweet-smelling blossoms.

The merriment of the Festival of the Birds remained in the air for a week afterward, with whispers and rumors flying about who did what with who. Delacroix and Max hooked up, and were now seen together more often, sitting close to each other and whispering to each other. Hartmann and Freddie had also gotten together, the pair of them made an adorable couple, though rumors abounded that Hartmann’s parents weren’t fond of the arrangement.

“Fuck ‘em,” Ras offered to Hartmann when she confirmed it to Ras. “Do what I did, run away.”

Hartmann looked like she was genuinely considering it, but she shook her head. “Wouldn’t be right. Can’t have you staging a search, now can I? Knowing you, you’d steal a plane and fly all over the world to find me.”

Ras shrugged, but didn’t deny this fact. She probably would have.

Ras herself, meanwhile, was also a popular subject of conversation, more notably her celebration with Rosario during the festival. Being seen out with royalty—and not even minor royalty, at that—made her a real celebrity.

There was also tell that Lady Renaldt was entirely unhappy with this situation, and rumors abounded that she planned for Auguste to walk out with Rosario. This brought Ras a sense of smug satisfaction, she’d gotten one over on Auguste.

People Ras didn’t know came up to her in the halls, demanding to know her name and demanding her to introduce them to other Archambault students. She even had one student declare that she duel them for the Princess Rosario’s hand.

She accepted, but of course her opponent had failed to show that afternoon. Food poisoning, their second claimed. Ras offered to reschedule, but was promptly denied.

Then, unfortunately, everything changed. Because Exam Month had arrived.

The changes were subtle at first; teachers making ominous remarks about the upcoming exams, the prep sessions growing a bit longer, all while dinner was growing shorter. Then classes became focused on revision. By the time a week had passed, the Festival of the Birds was a distant memory and rather than dawdling and chatting, students hurried through the hallways with worried expressions. Hartmann was working harder than ever, but she was unpredictable with it. Her mood swung from between focus to snapping at anything and anyone who surprised her.

As for Ras, she’d been through exam seasons before, but nothing as pressured as what was happening to Gallatin. Lucien had been struggling again, and asked Ras for help.

“I won’t be mad if you say no,” Lucien assured her. “It wouldn’t be right if you got behind on your studies because you helped me out. If you need to take the time for yourself, I’ll figure something out.”

Unfortunately for him, Ras was one stubborn woman. “Despite only having one arm, I could still manage to carry and read two books.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Care to demonstrate?”

“Nope! Just gonna have to take my word for it!”

And take her word for it he did, for Ras took time out of her own prep work to pore over notes and textbooks long into the evenings. Lucien looked hollow-eyed by the time they’d finished, but he was thanking Ras with every fiber of his being.

“I don’t like to ask for help,” he admitted, a little stiffly, “but I appreciate it, Ras. Really.”

Ras grinned. It was hard work, and the college atmosphere felt as though she were immersed in the coming exams long before they’d arrived, but she managed to cope.

During Philosophy, Miss Dalca is as flamboyant as usual, despite the imminent exams. She encouraged the class to stand up and walk around “to refresh yourselves” she claimed. One afternoon she brought a large coffee cake with the bribe of a feast once the revision session had finished. When Mr. Blanchard walked past the door, she caught his eye and gave him a smile laden with unmistakable promise. Ras was the only one who caught Mr. Blanchard’s blush.

“As a tie-in with your Arts work on Charles’s The Husband,” Miss Dalca said, “we will discuss the moral implications of Alessandro and Valentine’s illicit entanglements.”

With that, the discussion began.

For Ras, it felt like an age since her first day at Gallatin, and her acting out the scene with Hartmann. The play had been discussed on and off in Arts class, of course, but Mr. Griffith’s commentaries tended to be stern and dry, whereas under Miss Dalca’s tutelage, the characters came to life; she spoke passionately about them as though they’d been her friends.

“Some might say,” she said, “that Valentine had an imperative to look for happiness outside his marriage. It would’ve been dishonest to remain unhappy with his husband, and Alessandro represented the spirit of joy.”

Hartmann wrinkled her nose. “Valentine was being dishonest anyway, by cheating on his husband. Saying anything else is just rationalizing it.”

“You’re such a prude,” Max said with a yawn, determined to play the contrarian role in full. “If the husband didn’t know about it, it wouldn’t hurt him.”

“And, of course,” said Miss Dalca, “we must remember that at the end of the play, they formed a triad.”

“Only because the husband was afraid of losing Valentine,” Hartmann scowled. “He wouldn’t have, if Valentine had stayed true.”

Miss Dalca sighed, her gaze looking far away for a moment. Ras followed her eyeline, spotting Mr. Griffith, who was giving a fourth-year a dressing-down in the corridor outside the classroom. “Consider Valentine’s perspective,” she said softly. “Perhaps if he had spoken with his husband about his desires, they could have worked it out without cheating. Perhaps the husban would have wanted it too. You never know. Of course,” she added, more briskly this time, “then it wouldn’t have been such a funny play.”

Miss Dalca caught Ras’ eye, who raised a brow at her. She’d seemed perfectly happy with Mr. Blanchard when she saw them together, but perhaps she had feelings for Mr. Griffith, too. It seemed as though this scenario had touched her more personally than just a mere thought exercise.

That was when she noticed the others had their attention on her, too. Hells, they wanted her to speak on this matter?!

She took a deep breath, then offered a grin. “Personally, I believe that if either of them had just made a bloody move and took charge of the situation, they’d have made things easier,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Talk your feelings out! Talk to your partner, and if you have multiple, include them too!”

Max applauded; Miss Dalca looked thoughtful. “...Very astute, Master Thorne,” she said, scribbling something into her notes.

The discussion moved onward, with Max calling out lazily constructed contrarian comments and sniping at Hartmann. It ended with everyone cross and tired, but Miss Dalca handed out slices of cake to mollify tempers.

As the class was packing away and beginning to leave, she called out. “Miss Gonzalez, Miss Hartmann, Miss Van Meyer—stay a moment, please.”

Freddie and Delacroix hovered at the door, before making a speedy exit. Ras took her time collecting her belongings, she wanted to hear what this was about. Miss Dalca spoke, “Miss Gonzalez, you’re having trouble with your critical thinking and discretion. And Miss Hartmann, you need to argue your points more passionately. Miss Van Meyer…I’ve no idea where to start with you. I’m arranging one-to-one tuition with myself and a peer.”

At that, Ras froze. ‘Shit shit shit’ , she thought to herself, gathering her belongings much more quickly. Unfortunately, she wasn’t fast enough, for her eyes made contact with Miss Dalca’s, and Ras knew she was about to be voluntold to do something.

“Master Thorne!” Miss Dalca said, a bit too much pep in her voice. “You’ve shown much promise in your college work, so perhaps you’d like to volunteer?” It wasn’t really a question. “And,” she added, “Mr. Blanchard is planning to do the same for Miss Crawford and Miss Delacroix in Athletics, so don’t think you can wriggle out of this!”

Ras groaned, hanging her head. “I mean…” She spoke, carefully picking her next words. “Since you asked so nicely, Miss Dalca, I wouldn’t mind tutoring Hartmann. If she needs passion, I’ll show her passion.”

Hartmann looked stricken with panic, but she caught Ras’ eye and offered a weak smile.

Miss Dalca nodded briskly. “That’s what we like to hear!” She exclaimed. “Now let’s get to it.”

That evening, Ras was put to work.

Miss Dalca had Ras assist Hartmann in giving a persuasive speech based on the work of Prime Minister Lady Edith Belke, who was widely considered an excellent orator. That particular assignment revolved around the debates she had against Lord Krause, a charismatic but corrupt Prime Ministerial candidate who’d been caught sending campaign money to foreign criminals. Hartmann’s assignment was to come up with an equally charismatic rebuttal to his points.

Despite her ease when talking in front of others, Hartmann had very little panache. She started out with a clearly-spoken and well-recalled list of facts, which were reasonably interesting and not at all excited. Miss Dalca looked to Ras with despair in her eyes.

Ras groaned, and took to the podium. Hartmann’s lip was trembling as Ras intervened.

“Forget that a moment! Why don’t we talk about how ridiculous it is that they’re giving whole jars of peanut butter to toddlers? Like, come on, I’m nearly an adult, and I can barely finish an entire sandwich by myself, what are they going to do with a whole jar!?”

Hartmann looked shocked at the sudden change in topic, and Miss Dalca merely watched with great interest. She seemed to have cottoned onto what Ras was going for.

Ras looked to Hartmann, a grin on her face. “C’mon, surely you share my opinion! It’s absurd!”

Hartmann frowned, she still didn’t quite get it…

Ras resisted the urge to huff and roll her eyes, and she merely continued. “Okay, but what about those people who overload their chicken with spices!? What’s the matter with chicken by itself, eh?”

She clearly didn’t believe what she was saying, and she knew that if Gerald heard this argument he’d either faint or whap her upside the head. Probably both.

Regardless, she continued, lifting her arm and speaking in a mocking tone. “‘Oh, but then it just tastes like chicken!’ Oh, I’m sorry! Gods forbid your chicken tastes like CHICKEN.”

She was shouting now, turning to her imaginary opponent. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, JUST TASTES LIKE CHICKEN!? WHAT ARE YOU EXPECTING IT TO TASTE LIKE, B LOODY STRAWBERRIES !?”

With that, it suddenly clicked for Hartmann. Ras wasn’t just spouting nonsensical arguments for the sake of nonsensical arguments. She was spouting these nonsensical arguments as examples. With the right amount of passion and charisma, she could sway just about anybody.

Hartmann leapt to her feet, pointing at Ras. “Ridiculous! It’s supposed to taste like properly seasoned meat! We can’t all get by on rubbery slices of NOTHING.”

Ras whipped around, facing Hartmann. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was talking to the Overlord of SPICES. Excuse me, your highness, for being part of the working class and unable to afford spices!”

They continued in this vein of ridiculous vocal exercises and pointlessly elaborate arguments, and slowly, Hartmann loosened up. Her shoulders relaxed, and she spoke with more and more expression. She stood at the front of the empty classroom and declaimed to Ras and Miss Dalca about the importance of the Westerlind train network; Miss Dalca looked triumphant. “There, Miss Hartmann, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Then, a knock at the door.

Miss Dalca glanced over with an irritable expression, and opened the door to reveal Lady Renaldt. It was unusual to see her outside her office or the banquet hall; unlike her subordinates, she rarely walked the corridors. Nevertheless, she was the same imposing figure, and fixed Miss Dalca with her cool gaze.

“Yes?” Miss Dalca said, her tone just on the edge of rudeness. “I’m doing some revision for Miss Hartmann, and Master Thorne is helping.”

Lady Renaldt’s gaze shifted over to Ras, but she displayed no emotion, save for that disdainful glare that she always saved for Ras. “...A short word, in private,” she said.

“It can’t wait, I suppose?” Miss Dalca sighed. “Well. You two carry on, I’m sure we won’t be long.”

Lady Renaldt gave her a freezing look, but she either didn’t care or didn’t notice. They headed into the corridor, closing the door behind them, but Ras could hear muffled voices. Lady Renaldt sounded stern; and Miss Dalca sounded defiant.

On the desk beside Ras, she noticed the sheaf of exam papers that Miss Dalca had abandoned. She could have looked at them, but she was far more interested in the argument happening outside.

Hartmann, of course, was hunched over her notes, not paying attention to either point of interest.

Ras resisted the urge to eavesdrop, and instead swept in beside Hartmann, leaning over her with a grin. She put the papers and the teachers’ conversation out of her mind, and concentrated on working with Hartmann, going over the speeches’ rhetoric once more to solidify her understanding.

By the time Miss Dalca returned, Hartmann was looking more confident. Miss Dalca, by contrast, looked angry and shaken. “That’s that sorted out,” she said.

The session continued for about ten more minutes, but it was clear that Miss Dalca’s mind was occupied.

“Well, students, I think we’re finished for the night,” she said, her tone bright and brittle. “We’ll revisit after the next class.”

With that, Ras and Hartmann were dismissed.

The exams were a week away, and tension was mounting in classes and at meals. During a morning Etiquette class, Delacroix snapped at Hartmann in a quarrel over a fish knife; Lady Renaldt made them both sit out in the hallway for ten minutes.

Ras had just sat down for lunch when a timid first-year approached her table. “Lady Renaldt asks if you can please come to her office at your convenience,” he said in a rush.

Of course, ‘at your convenience’ was Lady Renaldt’s way of saying as soon as humanly possible. The first-year hovered at Ras’ side.

She smiled up at him, gesturing to the seat across from her. He declined to sit, but Ras merely shrugged and went on eating her meal, going as slowly as she possibly could, eating as though she’d been savoring every mouthful. The first-year’s eyes grew rounder and rounder, and when Ras rose he looked intimidated by her, yet impressed at her daring all the same. “This way,” he said softly, before leading her from the banquet hall.

At Lady Renaldt’s office, Ras raised a hand to knock at the door, only for Hartmann to emerge, pale and biting her lip. She made her way past Ras, her gaze not even registering her friend. “Come, Master Thorne,” Lady Renaldt called, and Ras entered.

Lady Renaldt wasted no time in gesturing for Ras to sit in the leather armchair; to which Ras sank into it and felt absurdly shorter than her.

“There are staffing issues at Gallatin College,” she said without preamble. “And as you are a student with a decent reputation, I’ve chosen you to take a leading role in the investigation.”

Without waiting for Ras to respond, she swept onward.

“We have received complaints about both Miss Dalca and Mr. Blanchard, and it simply will not do. You will focus your efforts upon one of them—since you are a student, they will not suspect your involvement in this. I understand you have a reasonable rapport with them both, but part of your schooling here is to learn to do the right thing regardless of emotional attachment. Do you understand?”

Ras raised an eyebrow. Lady Renaldt wanted to ask her to spy on teachers?

“Lady Renaldt,” Ras began, “why me? You know of my situation. Surely I’m not the best suited for this.”

Lady Renaldt gave Ras a cool glare. “I know of your situation, yes. I also know that you ran away from home and spent Hearthlight with the Princess Rosario in Zaledo.”

Ras opened her mouth to say something, but Lady Renaldt continued. “Your relationship with your mother is strained, Master Thorne, and you have engaged in rather amorous activities with Princess Rosario. I have no doubt you plan to get engaged to her come engagement season.” A pause.

“If you assist me with this delicate matter, I can protect you from your Mother, and see that you and Rosario are happy.”

“What could you possibly do? Rosario’s a Princess, she’s surely got more power than you.”

“Oh, there’s no mistake of that,” Lady Renaldt leaned forward, “however, were your Mother to learn that you’d returned to Gallatin, surely you don’t think she’d allow you to remain? She would likely spirit you away and attempt to reclaim her social status alone.”

Her gaze upon Ras was cold and calculating. “Surely you understand what I am saying, yes? She’d likely get you killed, just as she did your Father.”

Ras’ breath hitched. She was stuck in an impossible situation, with no way out. She clenched her fist and tried to steady her breathing.

“Fine,” she relented.

“...I’ll focus on Miss Dalca. I see the way you glare at her, surely you’re amenable to my choice?”

“Certainly. Thank you, Master Thorne. I will speak with you in a few days. The teacher you deal with is at your discretion. That will be all.”

Before Ras took to the dismissal, however, she spoke. “...Give me a key to her office.”

“Pardon?”

“If you want me spying on her, surely you can give me an edge. If I had, say, a fast way into her office, and possibly assurance that she’d be busy, oh, say…after class today…I could get this over with.”

Lady Renaldt raised an eyebrow, but she opened a drawer on her desk and pulled out a slender key, passing it to Ras over her desk. “When you’re done, simply toss the key into the lake. We’ll change the locks when we replace her anyway.”

Ras slipped the key into her pocket, fully intent on not doing that. She had already begun working on a plan, but for now, she had to play along. With a curt nod, she stood and left Lady Renaldt’s office.

Lunch had just finished, and Philosophy was coming up. Teachers and students alike were sleepy from the meal, and Ras’ course was set. She hated doing this, she had nothing against either of these teachers, but this wasn’t something she could run away from.

That day’s Philosphy class had a razor-sharp focus on Revekah Vasile, an imprisoned dissident. Miss Dalca discussed her theories about labor laws and enforcing fairer work practices with relish, and evident support.

According to the syllabus, Hartmann muttered to Ras, that afternoon was meant to be about the correct treatment of one’s servants. Which, if Ras squinted hard enough, it could be. But she was certain Lady Renaldt—not to mention the Prime Minister—would disapprove of Miss Dalca’s approach. If anytime was right for this move, it was now.

After class, Lady Renaldt had sent a student to call for Miss Dalca and Max to her own office, so it was an easy enough matter for Ras to slip into Miss Dalca’s office next to the classroom. It was a snug room—not as grand as Lady Renaldt’s, of course—but bookshelves were stuffed with books and pamphlets, and where there were no books there were forest-blooming plants and glittering ornaments.

Moving quickly and as quiet as a mouse, Ras rifled through the bookshelves. Mostly the material was controversial rather than dubious, but then, tucked behind a dust chess set, Ras found a set of letters from one Revekah Vasile herself. It wasn’t illegal to write to prisoners, Ras knew that much, but scanning through them she found a far more cordial friendship than Lady Renaldt would approve of.

Ras tucked them into her pocket and cleared out of Miss Dalca’s office, locking the door and tucking the key into her shoe. If Lady Renaldt searched her, she wouldn’t find it.

Ras heard nothing from Lady Renaldt for the next three days, and then…

Shortly after breakfast, the same first-year from before sidled up to Ras on her way to Arts. “Lady Renaldt would like to see you again,” he said conspiratorially.

Ras didn’t really have an excuse to dally this time, so she just followed him to the office; voices murmured from behind the door. When Ras entered, she saw Lady Renaldt sipping tea next to a plump, dark-skinned woman with gray hair and a brown suit. “This is Master Thorne,” she said to the woman, and then, “Master Thorne, this is Inspector Kathrili Burgin, the Chair of the Westerlind Educational Inspection Board,”

Inspector Burgin nodded to Ras with a curious expression, sipping her tea.

“Inspector Burgin wished to hear your thoughts about the current staffing situation,” Lady Renaldt said, “direct from a student. I thought it best she heard from someone of your repute. Your comments will be borne in mind when you graduate, naturally.”

Of course, Lady Renaldt was far too genteel to gloat, but she looked very pleased with herself.

Ras took a deep breath. ‘Alright Thorne,’ she thought to herself, ‘time to ramp up the bullshit. She’ll get hers, but for now, you have to take yours…’

She really hated what she was about to do, but she was doing what she could with the tools given to her. She would make it through this, and hopefully figure out a way to make sure everybody came out clean as well.

“Personally, I don’t feel that Miss Dalca has the best interests of the college at heart,” she said. “After all, she’s been seen indulging in some…unseemly behavior.”

Lady Renaldt’s eyes narrowed; she looked unsure whether to be pleased or alarmed. Inspector Burgin tilted her head in question.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. Sometimes students have high spirits,” she continued, “but for a teacher to be having trysts in the quad? It’s not exactly, well…”

She left it hanging, and Inspector Burgin exchanged a look with Lady Renaldt. “You know, Master Thorne, that’s very useful information,” she said. “I’ll be sure to mention it to the Inspection Board directly.”

Lady Renadlt offered Ras a smile. “That will be all, Master Thorne, thank you,” she said, pouring Inspector Burgin another cup. With that, Ras was dismissed.

Rumors flew wildly about Inspector Burgin’s visit. Nobody has it quite right, of course, but Miss Dalca seemed a little out of sorts for several days afterwards. Lady Renaldt had made no move yet; no doubt she was waiting until exams were over.

The first exam was Athletics; the afternoon before Ras saw Karson and a group of construction workers busy out on the field, but from the window it was hard to see much of what they were up to. That evening, the atmosphere in the common room was somber.

Ras was excited for this one, and so she sequestered herself in a quiet classroom and did some warm-up exercises, getting her blood pumping. By the time she was onto stretches, her mind was calmer and her body prepared for the exam. She slept well, and awoke the next day refreshed.

Outside, an obstacle course had been set up all the way down the lacrosse field and into the woods: all rope ladders, climbing walls, and crawl-spaces, with stretches of running between. Mr. Blanchard called the groups to order, a touch of pride in his voice. “You’ll have a warm-up around the field first,” he said, “and then it’s time for the obstacle course. Faster you do it, higher your marks—and your placing in the group affects the grade too.”

Gonzalez jogged lightly in place, looking pleased with herself. The pale sunlight was bright and warm; after the warm-up run, Ras abandoned her sweater in a pile, before taking an eye to the course ahead and going forth.

Ras charged onwards, first out the gate the moment it was time. She’d lost her lead by the time they made it to the first obstacle: a cargo net to climb, at a sharp angle. Gonzalez had caught up to Ras, flinging herself forward straightaway, with Max going after her. Hartmann was in the middle, climbing steadily but looking paler as she ascended.

Ras took a deep breath, before rushing the net and scrambling upwards. Climbing with only one arm was something she was used to at this point, pushing herself off her footholds and grasping at handholds as she neared them. Shifting her weight to propel herself forward and upwards, it wasn’t long before she’d surpassed the others and made it over the net. She leapt to the ground, and made for the hurdles, an easy matter compared to the net; she leapt over them smoothly and made her way to the woods.

Mud splashed up her legs as she raced through a bog; behind her, Delacroix yelled in disgust. Finally, she circled toward Karson’s cabin, only to find an increasingly tall set of rails to balance along. Ras shuffled her way across, heart hammering in her ears though she made her way across them gracefully. Max followed soon after, and offered Ras praise on her skilled footwork.

With a grin, and amongst the frontrunners, Ras sailed through the yellow tape of the finish line, Mr. Blanchard cheering her on.

It was time for a break before the next exam. While Mr. Blanchard led the group toward the gymnasium, movement amidst the trees caught Ras’ eye.

It was Karson, sporting a swollen, bruised eye and gingerly cradling her arm. From the direction she was walking, she must have come from Gallatin town, but there was little reason for her to have been there on foot; usually she traveled to and from town by carriage or cart. She hadn’t seen Ras yet.

Ras frowned at the sight, and knew there wasn’t much she could do by herself. Much as Ras viewed Karson as a friend, she couldn’t do anything for her. So, she figured, might as well bring this to Lady Renaldt’s attention. Maybe she could get Karson help, or talk to her. They seemed to get along well enough.

Circling away from the rest of the students, Ras made her way to the main college and towards Lady Renaldt’s office. Before she knocked, she heard her speaking sharply, “I don’t care, Schroeder. Control her and keep the mines running smoothly, or I’ll see you put away.” A pause. “...There’s someone outside. Sort it out, damn you.”

Ras knocked at that point, and Lady Renaldt’s fearsome scowl smoothed into the usual disinterest.

“Ah, Master Thorne,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“I–I saw Karson strolling back in from Gallatin town, sporting some heavy injuries. I don’t know what happened, and I didn’t know what to do, so I thought—”

Lady Renaldt lifted up a hand, smiling. “You did well, to come to me, Master Thorne. I’ll have a word with Karson, and see to her injuries, you can be sure of that. Anyway,” she said, her tone returning to it’s neutral state, “you ought to change into your uniform, lest any younger students think they’re allowed to prance about in their Athletic kit.”

With that, Ras left the office, closing the door behind her. Not quite what she was hoping for, but it was definitely something. She hoped Karson was okay.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have much time to consider it, as after classes it was time for lights out: Etiquette was first thing tomorrow morning.

That morning, Ras felt a million miles away from the obstacle course and Karson’s situation. She was sitting on a plush velvet dining chair, facing an elderly woman in Westerlind Army dress uniform. Each of her classmates were in the same situation, each with a different society luminary in front of them. Lady Renaldt was watching like a hawk.

There was more riding on this than in any of the practice Etiquette sessions, for Lady Renaldt had called in favors from the great and good across the country to assist. The soldier before Ras was a genuine article, and she wondered if she hadn’t served with her father before.

“And you may begin,” Lady Renaldt said.

Three minutes to introduce herself to the woman before her, before moving onto the next.

Ras flashed a smile at the solider. “My father was in the Army, too. Does the name Irwin Thorne ring any bells?”

The soldier beamed at Ras. “Oh, you’re Irwin’s girl!? He wrote about you.” She said. “Said you know just how to make anybody happy. ‘A true delight,’” she spoke in a tone mimicking Irwin’s, “‘my little Thorneling could make Queen Estelle giggle.’”

She spent the rest of the three minutes listening to the soldier ramble on about Irwin’s stories and the trouble he got up to with Gerald during their service. When it was time to rise, she shook Ras’ hand vigorously.

“I’ll tell Françoise you’re a good egg, Master Thorne,” she said conspiratorially.

That set the tone for the rest of the exam; Ras went through the other guests with grace. She caught Max charming a silver-haired bureaucrat with off-color jokes and Hartmann giving a dignified nod to a scholarly-looking gentlewoman. By the end, they were buoyed by the energy of the room and were led to the dining hall with springs in their steps. It was lunchtime.

The atmosphere in the dining hall was an unsettling mixture of exhaustion and keyed-up energy. Max and her Starlings were flicking pennies into each others drinks, cheering raucously whether or not the pennies hit their targets. Gonzalez was practically asleep at the table; Freddie was hunched over a book, muttering to herself.

Over by the wall, Hartmann was standing and surveying, looking pale but focused. Every so often she directed a prefect with military precision.

Mr. Griffith approached her with an uncharacteristically sympathetic expression. “Miss Hartmann, you can take a break,” he said. “You haven’t had lunch, have you? You won’t do anybody any good if you keel over.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Hartmann said, tone flat and automatic.

“Is this about getting an extension for your Arts essay?” Mr. Griffith said quietly. “Because you’re an excellent student, it would be no trouble—”

Hartmann rounded on him, face tightened with fury. “I don’t ended your pity,” she snarled, and even Mr. Griffith looked taken aback.

The exchange was quiet enough that nobody had noticed, save for Ras, but Hartmann’s anxious expression told her that it’d be a matter of moments before it spilled over.

Hartmann looked increasingly trapped beneath Mr. Griffith’s scrutiny. Ras sidled up to the pair with an agonized expression. “Mr. Griffith,” she said. “I needed to talk to you about a second scene in The Husband.” With that, she spun a nonsensical theory about Valentine’s soliloquy, emphasizing on his tiredness near the end of the scene.

Mr. Griffith looked faintly exasperated at the interruption, but he humored Ras; the two of them having an in-depth discussion of the lines in question, with Hartmann finally getting the hint and sliding away for some fresh air. After a few minutes she returned, looking a bit better, settling down with a plate of food. The rest of lunch passed uneventfully. Fortunate, really, since Philosphy was coming next.

The Philosophy classroom was different today. Gone were the comfortable armchairs, and instead benches were set up, mimicking the layout of a parliamentary debate. Miss Dalca stood at a lectern in the center, holding a gavel. She announced the topic of debate—restorative versus punitive justice—her tone was notably tense.

“I will be marking you on your performance, and that of your team,” she said.

She then tapped the ostentatious clock at the front of the classroom. “You’ll have ten minutes to prepare. Begin!”

The clock ticked far too loudly for Ras’ liking. She was assigned to the side arguing for restorative justice, alongside Freddie and Max. Freddie gave Max an irritable look; Max giving her a toothy, shark-like grin.

Still, despite their evident preference to be with others, they both had good ideas and a spark of interest in the topic. It also helped that Ras was there, and she could rein them both in. When Miss Dalca smacked the gavel on her lectern to signal the start, they were eager to begin.

There was no question how this was going to go. Ras was going to bulldoze the opposition. She had it arranged so that Freddie spoke first, with Max and Ras coming in as backup if she faltered.

They started off with statistics surrounding the harm done by wrongful convictions. Freddie’s good memory made her a good choice; she reeled off names, dates, and cases with ease. “You can’t ignore the Lea Humboldt case in 1743,” she stated. “She would’ve been hanged if the evidence hadn’t been re-examined. How can anybody condone that.”

Delacroix looked skeptical, and bored. “What about the actual victims of the crime?” She said. “You’re forgetting them. And their loved ones. What will they do if the people they love are hurt or murdered by street criminals?”

Freddie faltered in the face of Delacroix’s impassive tone. “Well—I mean…”

With that, Ras and Max stepped up to the podium. “A focus on punishment only results in repeated offenses,” she began.

“And then what happens?” Max said, stabbing a finger in Delacroix’s direction. “Prisons with revolving doors!”

“And you could never call that justice.” Ras finished.

Miss Dalca slammed her gavel with a little round of applause. The opposing team exchanged looks and scrambled to argue back, but the win was clearly on Ras’ side.

Riding on that success, the three of them spoke eloquently and with grace for the rest of the debate. In the end, Miss Dalca said, “As you’re aware, my personal feelings are very much on the side of restorative justice, so I was determined to remain impartial. But Master Thorne’s arguments would’ve swayed even the most ardent supporter of the punitive approach. Excellent work.”

With that, class was dismissed. The windows had darkened, and lights out was upon them. Ras headed to the dorm, and got ready for bed.

Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t sleep.

Tomorrow was the Arts exam. Everybody—The final-years and the younger students—said that Arts was the worst. Even though Ras got on with Mr. Griffith, she knew he was the least likely teacher to give special treatment. Her sheets tangled around her legs as she tossed and turned; everybody elses snuffles and breathing only set her more on edge.

Eventually, she gave in, getting up and making for the bathroom. She got a glass of water and drank it down in seconds, leaning against the cool glass of the full-length mirror. She breathed deeply, trying to relax her jaw. Her mind raced, though eventually it turned to her dormmates; they were clearly suffering too.

When she returned, she caught sight of Max, thrashing about in her bed. There was a thump, and then a muffled curse. Ras approached, and just as she did, she watched as Max sat up, groaning. She knocked a book off her nightstand. She looked at Ras, grimacing.

“I hate this,” she hissed. “I don’t care about exams—I don’t. But I can’t stop thinking about how it’s going to affect my entire life.”

She flung the book under the bed, looking dangerous close to shouting, or crying. Or both.

Ras gestured for Max to scoot over, and she did, allowing Ras to climb in, though it was a tight squeeze.

“Max,” she began. “Maxine. Maxinamillion. My best friend. Lass I’d rip apart a nation for.”

Max rolled her eyes. “Eugh, just get on with the scolding so I don’t have to hear this nonsense.”

Ras shook her head, leaning against Max. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, Max. I’m told you’re the one who organized that search for me with the others. You managed ‘ta rally them, and you kept ‘em together! That’s gotta count for somethin’, yeah?”

“But that was that! This is exams!” She hissed. “Much as I love you, you’re not exactly going to be part of my life forever! But how well I do today…it’s bound to affect what I do for the rest of eternity! Arts is my worst subject, too!”

Ras shrugged. “So what? You’re not doing badly in Philosophy,” she gave a grin, “and you’re alright in Athletics. Might almost be as good as me. Arts ain’t everything.”

“But Mr. Griffith hates me,” she muttered.

“Pssh. Mr. Griffith would scold his own clothes if he could—pretty sure he does, now I think about it—but that’s just ‘cause he cares.”

“Cares? Ras—”

“Think about it, Max. C’mon. Sure, he’s strict, and sure, he holds everybody to high standards. But think about it. Surely even you’ve seen the compassion he feels. Just the other day, he told Hartmann to take a break! Hartmann! Y’know, the workaholic!”

Max frowned.

“He doesn’t hate you, Max, he just wants you to do your best. He’s your teacher, and it’s his job to prepare you for the world out there. If anything, you should see how hard it is on him when a student fails.”

Max groaned. “Gods, I hate it when you’re right.”

“Frequently, then?”

“Shut up.” She let out another groan, before laying down. “Fine, fine, I’ll try to sleep…”

It wasn’t long before her breathing deepened. Ras carefully climbed out of Max’s bed, her own eyes heavy. When she returned to bed, sleep came quickly, and she awoke the next morning, refreshed and rested.

The Arts exam took place in the banquet hall; with none of the usual decoration and lined with narrow desks, it felt forbidding enough, but the tension amongst the students was palpable as well. The students filed in silently, the teachers hanging out exam papers. At the front, Mr. Griffith announces a time limit of three hours.

The essay questions were about close readings of The Husband, in even more detail than Ras had written previously. Three hours of misery for some, yet for Ras it was just three hours of showing off.

Ras loved paperwork just as much as she loved reading. This was nothing to her. She’d been combing through this play in class for months, now; she racked her brains to recall all of Mr. Griffiths teachings, and all the notes she’d made(of which there were plenty). Setting them down came smoothly. Her diagrams and charts and notes in the margins of books that she could recall with startling accuracy helped her recall the fiddly metaphors and allusions in the play, and she was able to construct a neat argument that, when she read it back, read very well indeed.

She had even managed to incorporate details about Charles’s upbringing that she’d unearthed in an obscure book one day in the library, and she had to hope Mr. Griffith would be pleased.

With the rest of the final-years, Ras walked into the sunshine. Around her, people compared notes about who answered what for the question on the final page, but she felt lightness in her chest and relief that exam season was finally over. Results would be handed out during the spring holidays. Of course, Ras’ work wasn’t done just yet—that wouldn’t be the case until graduation—but there was a certain pleasure in knowing that she wouldn’t be trapped under the scrutiny of teachers again anytime soon.

Just like that, it was dinner time.

Tonight’s dinner was a cheerfully raucous affair, and even Hartmann didn’t complain about people talking too loudly. Standing on the dais, Lady Renaldt gave a gracious speech about the final-years’ efforts. “I am certain you have lived up to your potential, and to the reputation of Gallatin College,” she said.

She surveyed the hall with a faint smile, then composed a grave expression.

“On a less pleasant note, I’m truly sorry to announce that Miss Dalca is no longer teaching with the college, having left due to a family emergency. I am certain we shall all join together to wish her and her loved ones all the best, and show our appreciation for her service to Gallatin.”

Ripples of excitement and curiosity spread through the hall. Mr. Griffith looked surprised for a moment, but he regained his composure quickly. Mr. Blanchard put a hand to his mouth, before Mr. Griffith laid a cautionary hand on his arm.

Ras had a sinking feeling that she’d done something horrible when she’d helped Lady Renaldt investigate Miss Dalca. She wished she’d never done it.

Across the banquet hall, Lady Renaldt met Ras’ gaze, and offered her a genuine, sincere smile.

‘Thank you for your help,’ that smile said, and the sinking feeling in Ras’ stomach only got worse.

#Crème de la Crème #Harris Powell-Smith #Choice of Games #The Princess and The Thorne #Tales of the Divine (Writing)#The Girl who became a Dragon (Ras Thorne)

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tonberry-yoda · 2 years

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Sorry, my tumblr has been weird, so if there are multiple of these matchup asks, then I am sorry, and please post the anonymous most recent one. Hope I didn't glitch my way into filling your inbox.

Heyo! Can I please have a matchup for Hazbin hotel and Romantic <3. I am a heteroromatic asexual who mostly idetifies as a woman. I am 5'5'', but I look tall for my stature. I'm just lanky. I have a willowy slightly toned build with long wavy brown hair that goes to my butt. I like wearing outdoorsy clothes (jeans, hiking boots, tank tops, etc.), but can dress up when need be. I love the outdoors and get antsy if I don't spend enough time outside. I like hiking, biking, kayaking, etc.). I just love being outside and also learning about it. I study geology and love learning about human history too. I just like learning about the world through a varaity of lenses. I also love music and it's hard to say what I like since there is so much. Because of Hazbin Hotel getting into early 20th century music, and I am even being trained and taking classes on radio braodcasting because of the show on top of my regular classes and my job. On that note I am not a homebody and can spend time at home, but I generally feel unfulfilled or even guilty if I spend the whole day at home. I like doing things, and keeping myself stimulated even if I have a tendency to bite off more than I can chew. Better than being bored. When I am at home I usually cook, clean, or work on a hobby. I love cooking and baking! I also love drawing painting, and even making spooky costumes. I just like self expression. This is hard to balance with all the time I spend running around outside, but I make it work. I am am a bit of a writer, but naturally need more practice. However, I do enjoy both fiction and nonfiction, since I write about science and history. I would also like to read more, but I sometimes get so busy by the time bedtime rolls around I am too tired to read before bed. It's something to work on. I am currently reading some Agatha Christie novels along woth a horror collection currated by Alfred Hitchcock. If the length of this message is any evidence, I am VERY chatty. I am quite social, but very work and goal orientied, so can buckle down and do my work if need be when if I just want to socialize. I also don't 100% have a type, but as a total dork I enjoy my dorks (which that's a majority of male character in Hazbin if you ask me, so that narrows down nothing). However, I have learned from my own dating history I struggle with quite types. I am chatty but hate being the lone speaker in a conversation. I need someone who will talk with me, not someone quite who just listens. Listening is important, but I need active listening. I honestly just want a best friend to be fun and goofy with that I also can kiss and cuddle. For love language I oscillate between quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. I enjoy them all but these are the once I love the most. I also am willing to love my partner in the way that fits their needs and prefered love languge the most even if it takes some time to learn.

Also, please don't pair me with Vox. If I had a nickle for everytime he has been present in my nightmares, I would have 2 nickles, which isn't alot, but it's weird that it happened twice. Honestly, no idea why. I don't even have nightmares very often. It's been like 4 over 1.5 years and Vox was in 2. Good for him.

okay, this one was actually difficult with the lack of characters in hazbin, but I've got it! so, without further ado anon,

the character I chose for you is...

ALASTOR!!!

(i know he's aromantic and i respect that with all of my heart and soul just wanted to put it here for my aro community <333)

perfect that you're asexual because he is too!

he would love to listen to you

this man lives off of entertainment, so he would be 100% listening to you all the time

even if it's boring, he still finds it to be entertaining lmaooo

he also loves that you're doing broadcasting classes

would help you out 100%

he would fall for you 10x harder if you cook him something

he's a mamma's boy, so food is his love language ngl

he would read horror books with you while old tunes play in the background

y'all would have tea time, so you spill everything and he spills everything

you two are constantly telling stories and actively engaging in conversation with each other

every time someone comes into the hotel, they just find the two of you talking

you honestly can't get enough of each other

you two definitely cook together and while you're waiting for whatever is in the oven, he will pull you into his arms and sway with you in the kitchen

You smiled, satisfied with how the cake you made came out. Now all it had to do was cool before you put the icing on it.

You leaned against the counter and racked your knuckles as you heard Alastor walk in, humming some tune.

"Hi Al!" You smiled and pointed to the cake on the counter.

"By god! It looks great, doll!" He grinned that wide smile that you couldnt help but love.

"I still have to put icing on it, but it's cooling."

"Perfect! Then we have some time!"

"Time? Time for wha-"

You were quickly interrupted as Alastor pulled you into his arms, twirling you before placing his hands on your hips with a smile. "You look beautiful, darling."

You blushed and wrapped your hands around the back of his neck. "S-Stop it."

"Never." He placed a kiss on your forehead as the both of you waited for the cake to finish cooling off.

#i hope you enjoy!#this one was difficult ngl #fun tho #my writing #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #matchup #matchups #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #hazbin #alastor x reader #<3

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sataniquepanique · 2 years

Text

Painkiller Part Five - Tear You Apart

Notes: Here's the smut you wanted you heathens! This is the final part of Painkiller.

*Minors DNI*

Summary: It's been 2 years since you moved to NYC for college. You and Eddie haven't spoken, but now you're back for the summer and run into him.

Genre: slow burn, smut

Warnings: angst, smut.

Word Count: 2.4k

It’s been 24 months since you left Hawkins. This time two years ago, you were busy buying things for your college dorm room, preparing to move halfway across the country for school. You were accepted into a great art school in New York, your dream school, and you were studying painting in the hopes of becoming a gallery artist. Sophomore year of college had just ended, and you had decided to come home this summer instead of staying back in the city. As much as you hated Hawkins, you were excited to see your family and some old friends that you’ve kept in touch with, Robin and Steve. You guys had been through a lot during your senior year in high school, back from the brink of death, fighting monsters, traveling to another dimension, you know….normal teenage things. You used to have a larger group of friends, including Robin and Steve with the addition of a few younger kids, and your best friend Eddie. Or former best friend, actually. Eddie got upset when you left for college.

“You’re leaving me here?” He looked at you with the saddest eyes when you told him that you had been accepted to school in New York. “Eddie…you knew this was a possibility…” you said quietly as you sat next to him on the picnic bench in the woods where you guys would get high after school. “Yeah, I thought you were going to school around here! I thought we’d still be able to do shit like this,” he waved the joint in his hands around.

“Eddie, I can’t pass up this opportunity, and it’s not like I won’t be able to visit! Maybe you can come to New York…”

“…and do what…” He interrupted, “…meet all your cool new college friends? See how great you’re doing?”

You were taken aback by his harsh tone.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t graduate with the rest of us!” You yelled, regretting it the second the words left your mouth. You could see the hurt in Eddie’s face. He had tried, ’86 was supposed to be his year. He finished the rest of the joint and threw it on the ground, “have fun with your new life” he said quietly as he walked away, never looking back at you.

Eddie never reached out after your argument. You saw him in passing once before you left, but he got into his van pretending not to see you hanging out with Robin outside of Family Video. You were both extremely stubborn, so you didn’t try to pursue him either. You still kept in touch with Robin and Steve, and they would fill you in on what was going on with the younger kids, too afraid to update you on Eddie. You had been scared to come back to Hawkins, and possibly running into him, so you had stayed in New York for every holiday and break so far. As time went on, you healed some of those emotional wounds, and decided to come back for the summer.

You had just gotten back into town, and your first stop was Family Video. You threw open both doors dramatically, and called “‘sup nerds!” into the mostly empty store. Steve’s head popped up from behind a shelf, and you heard Robin screech from the back room. She flew out from behind the counter and tackles you into a body-numbing hug. “Dude! We missed you so much!” She says as Steve comes over and gives you a small side hug. “Tell us everything that’s been going on!” Robin says excitedly as she went back behind the counter. You leaned against it and started to talk to them about your classes, the pieces you’ve been working on, and your roommates that you love.

The bell on the door jingles, and you hear a familiar voice joke loudly, “Oh Harrington! I’m here to return the PORN you lent me!”. You turned your head and locked eyes with Eddie, his big smile dropping the second he sees you. You both froze.

Steve broke the tension first, grabbing the VHS out of Eddie’s hands, “Dude shut up, what if people heard you!”.

Eddie glances at Steve and then back at you and then to his feet, “uh…I was joking. It’s not porn, it’s just Friday the 13th…” he says quietly. You were uncomfortable, and you knew he was too. All of the wounds you thought had healed came rushing back. You wanted to hug him, tell him how much you’ve missed him, how you would constantly pick up the phone to call him only to chicken out halfway through dialing his number.

“I’ll catch you later Robin…” you say as you turn to leave. Robin gives you a little wave and a knowing look as you exit the building.

Your head was swimming. You didn’t want to go home in this sort of mood, didn’t want to talk to anyone or see people. You considered just driving back to New York for a brief second, but instead you parked your car at the edge of the trees near the high school and ventured into your old sacred spot at the picnic table in the woods.

You sat down on the edge of the weathered table, closed your eyes and took some deep breaths, listening to the birds chirp in the summer afternoon heat.

You jump when you hear a twig snap behind you, and quickly turn around with your fist clenched.

“I knew you’d be here…” Eddie says with both of his hands up in surrender.

“What do you want, Munson.” You mutter, flexing your hand and turning back around to sit on the table, facing away from him.

“I haven’t seen you in two years and this is how you greet me?” He says light-heartedly, taking a seat on one of the benches. You can feel him watching you.

“Excuse me?” You whip your head around to stare back at him, rage filling your vision. “Do you not remember how you treated me before I left? How you criticized me, and shamed me for wanting to pursue my dreams?” You spat at him. He was still beautiful. Same big brown eyes, messy hair, and soft features.

He leaned his chin against his fist, “no…no I remember…” he says sadly, not wanting to make eye contact with you.

You got up from your seat on the table and started pacing, still feeling the rage boiling. Eddie lights a cigarette and stares off into the woods. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally broke the silence,“You look good. Your hair is lighter."

“Do you know how hard it’s been…” You get to the point, stopping your pacing and finally looking at Eddie. You’re not going to sit here and make small talk with him. You can feel the tears coming, and you try to fight them away. “…I wanted to call you. Every day. I would dial half of your number and then hang up, too afraid to bother you knowing that you hated me…” you trail off.

“I called you…” he says, “…A few times, actually. You even picked up surprisingly, but I could never bring myself to say anything so I would just hang up.” He shrugs.

“…that was you?” You sit across from him, remembering the random calls you would get sometimes in your dorm, you would pick up and just hear silence, as you repeated “Hello? Hellooooo?” into the receiver, only to be met with a dial tone moments later.

“Yeah…that was me. It was nice hearing your voice, even if it was just for a second…” he takes a long drag from his cigarette and you grab it from him, finishing it. After putting it out on the table, you look up at Eddie. Just as your eyes meet, he’s lunging across the table at you, taking your face in both of his hands and kissing you with more passion than you’ve ever felt. Your heart stops. God you missed him. You lean into the kiss more, putting one of your hands in his hair. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. “I know…” you place your hand on his cheek.

You walked back to Eddie’s van with his arm around your shoulders. It felt like old times, glued at the hip. “Are you too cool and educated to still listen to metal?” He jokes as he turns the key in the ignition, Black Sabbath erupting from the speakers. You shoot him an angry look and he smirks. By the time you pull up to Eddie’s trailer, you’re both screaming the lyrics to Die Young by Black Sabbath, laughing like old times.

“How’s Wayne?” You ask, getting out of the van and meeting Eddie on the stairs leading to his front door.

“He’s great. He actually moved in with his girlfriend last year, and left me the this to myself.” He motions at the trailer while he opens the door for you.

You step inside and feel like you’ve finally made it home. Memories come flooding back, and it takes every bit of you to stop from crying.

You feel something brush against your leg and you look down to see a small, black cat circling your legs. “Oh my god! Who is this?” You sing as you bend down to pet it.

“That’s Pistol. She’s my roommate.” He says, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

You look at him, remembering the name he used to call you.

“I found her the day you left. She followed me inside and just never left.” He shrugs.

You went and sat on Eddie’s bed while he rifled through drawers, looking for his stash. Looking around his room, you notice it’s exactly the same as you remember. “You haven’t changed at bit, have you?” You say, scanning over his numerous posters and band flyers on the walls. Finally finding a joint, he lights it, “yeah no, I’m pretty much the same as you left me,” holding out the joint for you to take. You go to grab it but he wrenches his hand back smiling, “except for one thing, you’re looking at an official high school graduate.”

Your eyes grow wide, “Eddie! Holy shit! I had no idea, congratulations!” you say as he beams. He takes a hit from the joint, nodding his head while inhaling, “yeah I’m thinking about maybe going to college in New York and becoming a big snob”.

You kick him in the shin playfully, making him laugh smoke out of his nose. You take the joint from him, staring in his eyes. “I’ve missed you Eds…”.

He stands there, nervously scratching his cheek while you take a drag. Once you exhale, Eddie is on top of you, kissing you deeply. You grab his hair with one hand, holding the joint away from you with the other. He starts moving down your neck, kissing and sucking his way to your collarbone, where he leaves a small bite.

“Eddie…” you whisper, letting your head fall back.

“Hmm” he moans, kissing the center of your throat.

“…we shouldn’t be doing this…I’m leaving at the end of the summer…” He takes the joint from your fingers and puts it in the ashtray next to his bed.

“…and what if I want to come with you?” He asks, staring at you.

You stare back at him in disbelief, running your hands through his hair. “You don’t mean that,” You smile and shake your head.

He grabs both of your wrists, “I’m completely serious. I can’t lose you again.”

You couldn’t stop yourself, you felt the tears starting to fall down your cheek. Eddie wipes them away with his thumb and kisses you again, pushing you back further onto the bed. You run your hand up the front of his shirt, caressing his chest and wrapping your hand around his back pulling him closer into you. He bites the same spot on your collarbone, and you dig your nails into his back. You wrap your legs around his hips as he starts to grind into you. “Eddie…” you say breathlessly as he moans into your neck. Your hands travel down, where they undo his belt. You reach into his pants and wrap your hand around him, making him moan again. He runs his hand up your skirt and moves your panties to the side, playing with you.

“…Jesus Christ…” you whisper as he adds two of his ringed fingers into you.

After a few minutes, you can’t take it anymore. “Eddie…please…” you moan, pulling his hair a little. He looks at you and kisses you on the lips. “I love you…I always have…” he whispers as he slowly enters you.

“…I love you too,” you say as he thrusts into you deeper. A soft moan escapes you as your eyes roll back.

You two had fooled around before, but nothing like this. There was a longing here, a desperate need for each other. You weren’t dumb kids, high as can be, fucking around in the woods anymore. You were adults, you were soulmates reuniting.

Eddie’s hips snap against yours in an even, solid cadence. “Eddie…I’m close…” you croon as you wrap your legs tighter around him.

“I’m ready for you…” he says in your ear, as you feel his hand grip your hip tighter.

All of the feelings you’ve been holding onto all of these years culminate into one single explosion of pleasure. All of the wanting, needing, longing you’ve harbored for him since you met him years ago, finally hitting it’s peak in one amazing release.

His thrusts become more uneven, and you pull his hair lightly to give him the go-ahead. Eddie finishes in you, kissing you softly as he slows.

You both lay on the bed, feeling high from the entire experience. You lay next to him, putting your head on his chest. He kisses your hand as you catch your breath.

“Were you being serious?” You ask, looking up at him.

“About what?” He says, lacing his fingers in yours.

“Moving to New York.”

“Absolutely. I let you go once, and I’m never going to let that happen again,” he looks you in the eye, holding your hand in his.

You smile at him, picturing your life together moving forward, “I can’t wait to take you to CBGB’s.”

He rolls his eyes dramatically, “If you’re going to drag me to punk shit, I’m staying here.” You hit him playfully as he wraps you into a bear hug.

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie munson #Eddie Munson edit #Eddie Munson stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #st4 #stranger things 4 #Steve harrington #robin buckley

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wagner-fell · 1 year

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Wagner, can we please take a moment to talk about my history of law professor because I need to talk about him for a moment?

He's ✨un personaje✨

I'll start off by saying that he's from Huelva and has studied in Madrid which already is a red flag upon a red flag. Analogically, he's like the flag of Spain without the yellow stripe, like the flag of Japan without the white background, like the flag of Morocco without the green star. It's almost as if a child who only had red crayons had painted him because he's like a walking caricature. He can't be real, istg.

Not only is he from Huelva and has studied in Madrid, he dresses like a founding member of the Falange Española Tradicionalista y de las Juntas Ofensivas Nacional-Sindicalistas, aka Franco's political party. His fashion sense is inspired by José Antonio Primo de Rivera, who was more of a radical than Franco. Also he has a scar that runs from his lip all the way to his chin and it shines silver when the sun chances upon his Very Spanish™ face.

But that's not everything. My history of law professor was a BULLFIGHTER like a good Spanish male (🐂🐂❤️❤️🇪🇸🇪🇸⚔️⚔️).

And do you know what his name is?

Jesus. His name is Jesus.

His name is Jesus and one of his surnames --I kid you not-- means stupid brute.

Jesus Stupid-Brute is:

Heterosexual because he likes Easter/Semana Santa (please note that I know a drag queen who loves Semana Santa and the member of my family most enamored with Semana Santa is my bisexual cousin)

A purely-bred Spaniard (unlike the people in the metro of Madrid)

❌Not❌ a nationalist -> he's been to Brazil 🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷!!!!!!!!!

The 283729 bracelets of Spain he wears are just to let people know that he's Spanish™

Jesus Stupid-Brute is the pinnacle of neutrality. He deeply respects homosexuals and people who hate homosexuals both. Don't you dare call him homophobic, he's an...

Ally 🌈🌈

Jesus Stupid-Brute is a polyglot. He speaks Italian (like a certain Wii boxer-like spokesman) and German (like a certain fancifully-moustached man). He won't make Italian and German exchange students in Spain suffer through classes in Spanish (read: he's not a nationalist) so he will explain to them the Visigothic Iberian peninsula in Italian and German!!!!!!! And if he wants to ask Vittoria from Pino sulla Sponda del Lago Maggiore the difference between polizia and carabineri, he absolutely has a right to... He's a professor but he's also here to learn right?!?!?!?!?

Jesus Stupid-Brute will use the most formal vocabulary possible to call you a useless imbecile :)

Sorry for dumping all this but I've just had history class and ffs it was a lot ignore this if you want

Oh my God CK

How can one person fit that many toxic traits in one body?!?!? I sincerely hope for your sake he explodes from the amount of toxicity in his body 😭😭

Like Jesus fucking Christ-

Dw CK!!!!!! You can rant to me any time as much as you need to :))

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amaya-writes · 2 years

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Oh this seems fun! Can I request from the SFW list: J, L and NSFW: S with Obey Me's Simeon, Raphael, and Mammon with a demon!reader? I was listening to AmaLee's cover of Voracity from Overlord and man I adore Albedo. So maybe a lady demon with feathered wings? Thank you!

Ask 26 for the Game: The Art of Seduction (Masterlist)

J - Jealousy

L - Love (like confessions or love language, etc.)

S - Seduce (you/they seduce the other)

Notes: This req gave me very Zuhair Murad Haute Couture 2013 vibes if the white was replaced with black. Also, I didn't do Raphael because I haven't met him yet in the game.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI!! Simeon's a virgin, handjob, sex in a public area, oral (m receiving), mentions of gambling and poker

Characters involved: Simeon and Mammon

Female reader, you/yours

Simeon

A sigh fell from Simeon's lips as he shuffled through the pages in his hands before inevitably putting them down with yet another dejected sigh.

He was facing writer's block. And not just any writer's block but the kind that made you question your skills and wonder whether your writing really mattered in the first place.

But then his gaze raced around the library around him, settling on the booth before him that was occupied by a far too familiar demon.

Simeon hadn't taken you for the type to spend your Saturdays at the library, especially not with the way you seemed to have an allergy to studying.

That, paired with your tendency to bother others, had left Simeon with several eventful Devildom History classes and a class partner who brought out a side of him he would often be scared of.

"Oh. It's you."

You seemed almost amused at his acknowledgement, leaning forward with your chin in your hand and head titled in that mock-innocence way you loved.

"That was quite an underwhelming response, darling."

Your retort made him snort as Simeon leaned back in his seat, only speaking again once you had left your table to join his booth and sit across from him.

"What are you working on?"

Simeon shrugged at the question, pushing the pile of pages towards your end of the table.

"It's a romance tale, one that I'm quite proud of."

"But?"

There you went again, seeing through all of his acts and getting to the point before Simeon could even think of putting on a facade.

Yet another sigh tumbled from his lips, but this time it was paired with a small smile due to your persistent ways, one that had him throwing his head back with closed eyes as he spoke his mind.

"I can't seem to get a proper ending."

You simply hummed at his response, following the sound with a shuffling of pages that told him you were reading his work, yet even then, Simeon found himself feeling a sense of calmness rather than the usual panic at having an unfinished piece be scrutinised.

You took your dear time skimming through the five pages of an eloquently written romance tale that could make anyone's heart race, yet your contemplative silence was quickly replaced with that mocking giggle he hated so much.

"What?"

Simeon was far too annoyed as he looked back at you again, noticing how the simple question only seemed to heighten your amusement.

"Oh, nothing. I just think it's amusing how you're trying to write about something you never experienced."

He could practically feel the malice you exuded as you sent him a small smile, one that was painted with the lure of an argument, which, as always, Simeon found himself giving into before he could stop.

"What is that supposed to mean."

"Well-"

You slid across the booth as you spoke, drawing Simeon's attention to those big fluffy black set of wings you adorned that you seemed so proud of.

"-you're an angel, aren't you?"

"So?"

You came to a stop right beside him at the word, with your body feeling a little too close for Simeon's liking.

"How would an angel ever know anything about the sin of lust?"

Oh.

A light blush dusted Simeon's cheeks as watched your hand trail across the table until it was resting over his.

The action him gulp as the angel tried to stop himself from thinking about unholy things that seemed to constantly plague his mind when you were around.

"I could show you."

His eyes whipped away from your joint hands to meet your gaze, noticing how you were leaning close enough for your chest to barely brush against his arm.

The feeling made his sight sink to your lips, and then lower and lower until Simeon had to physically force himself to turn away before he started thinking about whether the skin on your chest looked that soft too.

"What- no. It's a sin."

You let loose a small giggle at his reasoning, with the sound making him turn back to you like a moth to a flame.

"If you go all the way."

You titled your head further towards his only stopping once your lips were hovering so close he could kiss you if he simply puckered his.

"For you, my dear, a little taste would be enough."

The words were enough for Simeon to finally give in and seal his lips against yours.

You tasted like cherries, smoke and the promise of sin.

Like all the things he had been warned against for thousands of years, and all the things he had secretly found himself pondering over for just as long.

Simeon knew you were a demon, yet somehow, as you tilted your head for your lips to mould against his perfectly and reached out to nibble on his bottom lip, he couldn't help but feel like you were the most heavenly thing he had ever felt.

Your hand moved away from his to trace over his arm and neck before sneaking into his hair and lightly scratching his scalp in a way that had Simeon groaning in your mouth.

The sound only urged you to continue, with your wings spreading to hide the two of you away as your other hand dropped to rub small circles into his inner thigh.

It was then that you broke the kiss, leaning back in to steal another peck before almost completely pulling away from him with a small smile.

"Say it."

Simeon gulped at the words, taking a moment to genuinely contemplate the situation before he finally gave in.

"I want you. I want you to show me."

His words were exactly what you asked for, but they seemed enough for your lips and hands to once again return to him, this time with your hand trailing further than his thigh.

Simeon had lost track of how much time passed before you pulled away from him with a wink and slid to the other end of the booth to return to your table. However, as he watched you saunter away he couldn't help but feel himself smile as his shaky hand reached for his pen again.

"I hope your story goes well."

But this time, the story he would write would be about a demon whose talk was almost as intoxicating as her walk, and how she had stolen the innocence of an angel, and with it, his heart.

Mammon

He was winning. Of course, he was.

You might have been the supposed queen of the casinos downtown, but a couple decades of gambling would never amount to the avatar of greed's skill. Especially when he was serious.

Yet as he leaned back in his seat and let out a mocking chuckle, Mammon found himself feeling grateful that he gave in to the lure of witnessing your skill firsthand and stalked up to the poker table at the back of the casino before he could stop himself.

You had put on a good fight, both of you knew as much, but after an hour or so of playing he had finally sealed the deal with a simple roll of the dice that had you letting out an annoyed groan and handing over all of your chips.

However, Mammon should have known better than to think poker was the only thing you were looking to win over that night.

"Won't you let me congratulate you, love?"

The way you said the name made a shiver roll down his spine as Mammon watched the dealer leave the private room, noticing how you left your seat and stalked to his end of the table the second the room was left to the two of you.

"What are you-"

"Isn't it obvious, Mammon?"

Your hand reached forward to play with his unruly white strands and lightly tug on them in a way that turned him into a blushing mess. So much so that Mammon didn't notice your other hand had trailed down his body until he suddenly felt you caress his thigh.

"Do you do this with all of your opponents?"

"No, only the legendary avatar of greed."

You dropped to your knees as you spoke, making Mammon gulp and subconsciously fidget with the sole chip he clutched in his hand for good luck.

The sight made you smile as you leaned forward, moving up to lock your lips with his for a moment or two.

The way your lips caressed his and tongue spilled into his mouth only urged Mammon to give in and quickly drop one of his hands down to the zipper of his pants while the other one rested in your hair and pulled you further against him.

You let out a small sigh as you felt Mammon nibble on your bottom lip, but pulled away the second you heard his pants unzip.

"Here's your victory gift, love."

Mammon let out the last of his salacious groans as he watched you shuffle back on your knees and fix his pants, choosing to tug you up until you were seated in his lap sideways with his arms wrapped around your frame and tongue down your throat.

You couldn't deny the way your hurt after your previous actions, but you didn't mind the pain. After all, this had been your plan all along. The final nail in the coffin that would let you grab Mammon's attention and make him yours.

"Congratulations, Mammon."

Mammon might have entered the casino for a quick gamble that night, but he found that he had won something so much better than that. He just hoped you played to stay.

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miekasa · 3 years

Note

Mie, I’m begging for some Jean college au bf hcs - im literally so down bad for this man and the way you write men is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

Absolutely, not a problem 😌 I saved this ask as a draft a while ago when you sent it, sorry for just now getting to it. Anyway, I love Jean with my whole heart, best boy, best boyfriend <33

King of forehead kisses, and not even just because of his height in comparison to yours; he just likes it. He likes the feeling of pressing his lips against your skin, and making you feel safe.

Brings you tea or coffee however you like it every day without fail. If he can get it to you in the morning before work/school then he’ll do that, if not he’ll meet you some time in the middle of the day to drop it off. Your own personal courier just for drinks.

He… has a thing for long(er) nails. He loves the feeling of them against his skin, even if you’re not scratching to apply pressure—just you holding his hand them grazing his skin is enough for him.

That being said, he will pay for you to get your nails done. Actually, he’ll pay for… almost anything you want, but the nails benefit him as much as they do you so feel free to ball out.

He never blowdries his hair because he doesn’t... know how to do the back of it. You did it for him once and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since, but he’s also too embarrassed to ask you to do/style it again.

On the subject of hair, he does do his best to style it and take care of it, but he’s a sucker whenever you play with it. Sometimes he feigns like you’re messing up all his hard work, but he’ll literally crane his head into your touch. He loves it.

The first time he lays on top of you and you run your hands through his hair... top 10 most euphoric moments of his life. He tries to fight off the sleep threatening to take over him, but it’s futile. Give it 15 minutes at most before he’s knocked out like a baby.

Dogs love him. Anytime you’re in a park or just taking a walk and there’s a dog around, it’ll come up to him and he looks adorable leaning down to pet it. He loves dogs, too! So he’s always happy to stop and pet them. He’d be a 10/10 dog dad.

Has your name saved in his phone with two hearts at the end. Do not point it out.

Loves taking pictures together and if you guys are on a date, he’ll ask someone to get a picture for him. He just likes having them to look back on (and to send to his mom, later).

He doesn’t mind painting classes or videos or tutorials, but he hates paint by numbers kits. He claims that they have no sense of color theory and that it takes the originality and fun out of painting. Not to mention the quality of the paints isn’t great to begin with; all of which he takes very seriously.

It’s pretty cute actually, to see him get worked up over the paint kits. He claims that painting and drawing isn’t even something he takes “that seriously,” it’s just a hobby for him (one he’s insanely good at); but in moments like these, you can tell that he’s way more into art and art theory and history than he lets on.

Huge movie guy, from animated movies to martial arts movies, Jean is usually willingly to give anything a watch at least once. When he’s high, he can go on about his favorite directors and art styles and movie details for hours if you don’t stop him. It’s super cute. Just don’t bring up Moana, because he’ll start crying.

Arm around the shoulder kind of boyfriend for sure. It’s a casual way of keeping you near him and letting everyone know that you guys are together. Plus it allows for him to easily pull you into him for a quick forehead kiss when needed.

Listen. If you hug his arm, he’s on cloud nine. He tries to be nonchalant about it but he’s about three seconds away from his eyes rolling back in his head it feels that good to him. Bonus if you lean your head on his bicep a little—then he’s a goner.

He takes his bagels very seriously and believes that both you and him deserve nothing but the best quality bagels. He’ll grumble if a bakery gives you guys a less than favorable one and make a note that taking the long route to get to his favorite place is much more worth it.

Always makes you walk on the side furthest from the cars. If he notices you’re not, he’ll just shuffle behind you until he’s shouldering the street and you’re on the inside.

He grew up on a kind of modern ranch situation; not exactly all the way in the countryside, but not isolate from the city, either. Because of this, he knows how to ride horses, take care of smaller farm animals, tend to plants, and yes he knows how to use a lasso. You wouldn’t know any of that though, because he never ever talks about it. The only way you find out is when he takes you to visit his mom’s house for the first time, and she asks him for a hand around the place.

(He’s got a cowboy hat, too, but refuses to put it on. He got it when he was, like, nine, okay, leave him alone).

When he thinks you look tired, he’ll wrap his arms around your shoulders to hug you. It’s usually followed up with a kiss to your head, and a promise that you guys will go home soon and get food on the way.

He’s a really good cook. He just understands and flavors and pairings really well, so he doesn’t need a recipe to make something that tastes good; he just kind of knows what to add to get the balance he’s looking for.

Naturally, he’ll cook for you. Especially if he finds out that you haven’t eaten all day/in a long time. He doesn’t care if it’s 11pm and it might seem excessive to make steak and potatoes with a side salad at this hour, he’s gonna do it to make sure you eat, and you are going to sit there and watch.

He also bakes pretty well, though he isn’t as experimental with his baking as he is with his cooking. He usually sticks to what he knows, and it’s not cupcakes and brownies and cakes; he’s better at croissants, and cheesecakes, and canelés.

Dating Jean means getting along with his friends. If you guys didn’t know each other before you started dating, be prepared to be ambushed by Connie and Sasha (after Jean stops hiding you away and gives them the green light lmfao). Neither of them waste time with the small talk and formalities; straight into mini golfing and beer pong. They make you feel welcome right away.

Sasha always teases that you’re too good for Jean, and that she might just steal you away for herself some day. Sasha is also Jean’s main confidant, so she really knows just how much he loves you, and yeah, she teases him for being lovesick, but really she’s happy for Jean. And proud of him for facing his feelings like this.

Connie adores you, and you know he trusts you when he starts going to you for advice/help. Could be anything from schoolwork, to what color he should get his new shoes in. He’s also the one who, surprisingly, you have the sentimental talks with about your relationship with Jean. It’s easy to overlook, but Connie loves Jean, and he’s come to love you too; he just wants you both to be happy, so he’s there to listen when you need it.

Jean waits outside of your classroom after you’ve had a test or presentation, usually with a drink or a snack, or the promise of taking you out as a treat. Always tells you he’s proud of you, and is there to comfort you if you think you didn’t do too well.

He does not shut up about whatever major you’re in. It could be the same as his; it could be the complete opposite as his. He thinks it’s so sick that you’re doing it, you make it look cooler, you make it look better, and he’s certain you’re the smartest person in your program.

He’s pretty serious about his studies, too, so he’s always down to study with you in the library whenever you’re both free. More often than not, he shows up after you, usually with food or extra chargers. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead, and asks you how you are while massaging your shoulders gently. If it’s been a while since you took a break, that’s the first item on the list, after that, he gets to work and stays with you until you’re ready to go, even if he doesn’t have as much work to do.

He always sits across from you. This goes for when you’re in the library, or out to eat at a restaurant; Jean loves sitting across from you. He gets to see your face the best that way, and he adores looking into your eyes when you talk.

He’s not... not a morning person. He’s not up at 6am ready to grind, but he wakes up before noon; let’s say 10am is his happy medium. That being said, if you wake up before him, regardless of the time, there’s a 9/10 chance he’ll lay on your back and tell you to hush so you guys can sleep for 10 more minutes.

If you’re (close) friends with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, Jean is... happy you’ve got people to rely on, but, “Of all people on the planet, you put your trust in Jaeger?” He acts so bitter (because he is), but deep down inside, he’s glad you have Eren to rely on if you need to.

(Also, you have to humble him and remind him that he and Eren aren’t all that different. If you like him, why wouldn’t you get along with Eren, bye).

Turns out though, that it’s not Eren who threatens to beat him up if he breaks your heart. It’s not even Mikasa, although, her threat goes without saying; it’s Armin he’s terrified of.

The last time Armin hated someone, it was this guy in your program, who happened to share a few mutual classes with him, too. Jean never knew the full story, just that he’s pretty sure that kid dropped out the following semester.

If you have a job on campus, Jean usually doesn’t show up while you’re working (knowing how embarrassed he would be if you did that to him), unless you work the night shift and it’s dead. Connie, however, does show up; usually in some kind of crisis (“Please help me, I don’t know what the fuck APA formatting is and this is due tonight, please, please, please!!”). Your coworkers actually thought Connie was your boyfriend for a minute. That’s when Jean starts showing up more lmfao.

He makes it a point to go on a scheduled, night out, kind of date at least twice a month. He knows life gets busy with school and work and midterms, but he always makes sure you both set side a time to take a well-deserved break and be with each other.

He’s the romantic type, so these dates are pretty swoon worthy, too. Drive-in movies, nice dinners, classy art exhibits, Jean plans it all. On that note, he really likes planning dates; he just doesn’t like talking about them with his friends beforehand.

All in all, very romantic, very precious boyfriend. He’s always thinking about you, what you need, and how he can help you out. You’re one of his main priorities, and he just wants to treat you right.

#anonymous #when.... when.... WHEN IS IT MY TURN #aot x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot imagines #no because he's the love of my whole life #jean fluff #jean smut #eren x reader

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