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junhuiste · 3 years

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break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #hoshi #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hoshi fluff

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world-of-aus · 4 years

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Behind the Screen - (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count:3,602

Warnings: 18+, mentions of violence, blood, thigh riding, oral (male receiving)

Authors Note: So pleased with how this chapter came out, BUT i apologize if the smut is not up to par. There will be another update friday, and i am currently also working on a soulmate au! oneshot! i hope to have that one out thursday but if not latest will be sometime on the weekend, as always thank you for reading and if you would like to be added to my tag-list just send me a message!

Part 2 / SERIES MASTERLIST

Your heels clicked against the cracked cemented floor, your feet carrying you from the corridors in the back of the seedy little strip joint. You stopped below the “employees only sign” your eyes scanning the smoke hazed room, your eyes landed on his form immediately, a shiver rolled up your spine finding his eyes already on yours. He was across the room in one of the ratty torn booths, his eyes trailed your lace clad body as your heels carried you towards him. You didn’t speak a word as you held a hand out to him, your body turning slightly to go back the way you came, “You coming sugar?” you questioned over you shoulder, eyes twinkling in desire.

He took your hand, his large muscular form trailing behind you, his eyes casted down as you walked past the various booths and tables occupied with gentleman callers. Just as you were about to pass the threshold your boss of a week stopped you his arm pushing into your breast roughly, god how badly you wanted to rip the arm right off the socket. He looked you up and down, “you take real good care of him, he paid us very generously for a session with you so don’t disappoint,” he spoke his hand coming up to slap at your cheek. It took all you had not to drop kick the asshole where he stood, but the heavy hand in yours reminded you why you were here, and that you needed to see this mission through to the very end.

“Steve you can’t be serious?!” you groaned looking over the file he had slid across the table.

And when your eyes did finally find his after having looked over the information of what you were being assigned too, you saw no sign of this being a joke of some sort, your body fell back against the cushioned chair, your hands coming up to rub at your temples, “There was no other way y/n,” he sighed, “this is the only way for us to take him down,”

You threw the file down, “so then send someone else in,” you grunted, “send in the newest agents you just approved.”

“y/n,” he sighed.

You knew there was no arguing, this was your job, this is what being avenger entitled you too, sometimes there was missions that you might not want to get involved in, or at least not in this way, but because there was innocent people on the line you couldn’t bring yourself to just walk away and flip Steve the bird.

“So, there’s really no one else to send in?” you questioned dread filling you as you already knew the answer.

He shook his head, “no one that we trust to get the job done in a timely manner, and to get it done with little to no casualties.”

“So I'm going in by myself, you’re giving me a week to get all the information, and how exactly are you going to get me out,” you pulled the file to look over again, “it doesn’t say here.”

“We’ll send someone in that will be able to blend, you’ll know when it’s time, the moment you see him, keep your guard up, and leave the rest to us.”

Though dread filled you, at the thought of this recon mission possibly going south, at least you would have something to write for your followers when you came back to the tower.

“I wouldn’t dream of it boss,” he patted your cheek once more, before giving your breast a squeeze.

You squeezed the hand of your gentleman caller tightly reigning in your anger, you moved around him only to be held back once more, your boss stopping the gentleman behind you, “she’ll treat you really good,” he said, “has a nice rack, and the greatest ass.” The hand holding yours tensed, you looked back over your shoulder, “come on sugar, your times ticking” you called over your shoulder, “we need to make the most out of it.”

You were finally moving forward again, “let me know how she is!” your boss yelled down the hall, you cringed internally, disgust washing over you.

You walked till you were at the end of the hall pushing open the last door on the left, you pulled him further into the room with you, choosing the chair where his back would be facing the camera. You pushed him down onto the worn-out velvet couch, or at least what was left of velvet on it. Music filtered into the room; you didn’t waste any time as you straddled his waist, your hips hovered over his, your lace covered breasts in direct eyesight. You twisted your hips pushing them into his as you leaned forward lips stopping at his ear, “how long till shit goes south?” you questioned.

His hands came to rest on your hips, “should have gone south the second that asshole touched you,” he grunted, “do you have the chip?”

You continued to work your hips into his, your hands leaning down to grab his trailing them up your body, resting them under the curve of your breast, you moved his hand, the thumb running over said device.

“Nice hiding spot,” he grinned, eyes twinkling in mischief.

“You know you were the last person I was expecting them to send in,” you muttered, running your hands up his chest.

“they weren’t going to,” he murmured quietly, “but the agent they had planned chickened out last minute.”

“well I’m glad it’s you and not some other person, don’t think I would feel comfortable them seeing me like this,” you muttered continuing to work your hips.

“I’ve seen you in less doll,” he grinned gripping your hips tighter.

You went to roll your eyes but a loud bang caught you off guard, screams coming from the hall.

Bucky looked up at you stalling your hips, “you ready to get out of here?”

You nodded your head frantically, god you wanted nothing more, Bucky lifted you off his hips, you couldn’t help but smirk at the obvious tent in his pants, “didn’t know you kept your gun there,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, smirking at you, “it's loaded you know,” he winked.

You went to give him a smart remark but were cut off when the door to your room was blown off its hinges with a bang, Bucky’s body covered yours as debris flew into the room. Your boss from earlier appeared, face bloodied, anger boiling over his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he seethed, pointing a gun at you and Bucky.

He looked over at Bucky who was shielding your body slightly behind his, “hand her over pal, this doesn’t have to involve you,”

It took you a moment to realize he really didn’t realize who Bucky was in the red washed room. You squeezed Bucky’s bicep causing him to look over at you with concern in his eyes, you moved from behind him making your way towards your boss, his hand reached out to grab at you but you shook him off. You just needed time, you just needed to stall long enough to buy the two of you time.

You sat on the edge of your bed, your blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. Your eyes were glued to the floor, you had been in a trance since you got home. The mission had gone sideways quickly, though you still were able to get out with the evidence, there was no one to take in.

“you’re a fucking rat aren’t ya?” he snarled, his hands gripping at your face the second you got close enough.

You gave him the best grin you could with how mushed your face was from the hard grip, “about time you caught on,” you grunted.

“i would watch that smart mouth of yours sweetheart,” he grunted pulling your face closer to his, the gun he had drawing nearer to your skin. You shuddered as he trailed the tip of the gun across your skin, gliding down till it was pressed between your legs. You were frozen in the moment, you had never been in a situation like this, a situation where you had felt so exposed.

“got nothing to say sweetheart, man oh man do I wish I was the thing between your legs, instead of this here gun,” he grunted pressing it into your skin more, “actually since you’re the reason for this shit show maybe I should teach you a lesson,” he hissed pulling on your hair.

You could see how tense Bucky had become, his hands were clenched to his side, jaw set.

Things took a turn for the worse when your body was sent flying towards the couch, you scrambled to move away from the man, but he pointed his gun at you freezing you in place, “hey pal you might want to get the fuck out of here, unless you like watching.”

The asshole hovering above you let his guard down for just a second while he looked down at your body, a second enough for Bucky to send a fist flying, throwing him off guard as he reached for the gun. He went to grab you angrily for leverage, but Bucky was quicker as he put a bullet through his head. A gasp left your lips as his lifeless body toppled onto you, blood leaking onto your skin.

Quiet raps against your door pulled you from your head, you looked up a “come in” falling from your lips.

Your door opened slightly Bucky’s head peeking through a hint of a smile on his lips, “hey doll,” he murmured, “how you doing?” He questioned softly his body pushing through. You shrugged your shoulders, in all honesty you weren’t sure how you were feeling, you didn’t think you could feel anything right now, and you so desperately wanted to.

A sigh left Buckys lips as he shut the door behind him, making his way over to your bed. He took a seat next to you, his body leaning against your headboard. He extended a hand out to you, “c’mere doll”, you looked over at him, before caving and moving towards him. You straddled his lap, your head finding its spot in his neck. Bucky's hands wrapped around you his fingers finding their way beneath your shirt, rubbing the skin there.

“You know it’s okay to not be okay,” he murmured.

“There shouldn’t be a reason I'm not okay though, I signed up for this, I've done worse jobs,” you breathed into his neck.

He turned his head slightly to press a warm kiss to your head, “no one is expecting you to be strong after going through a mission you would have chosen to opt out of it had Steve not told you there was no one else.”

You pulled away from his neck, a frown on your lips as you looked at him, “how’d you know that?” you questioned.

“Before I left to go extract you Steve briefed me on your mission, he also told me you might be super uncomfortable and out of your zone on this one,”

You sighed looking down at your hands that rested on Bucky's chest, “had the last part of this entire mission not happened, I would have been fine,” your fingers picked at his shirt, “I felt so helpless Buck, like that minute of uncertainty washed over me, and I hate that I feel like that, like I didn’t know what to do next, and I hate the feeling that I had no control over the situation.”

He nodded his head, his eyes traced over your face, it was almost like he was studying you, trying to figure you out.

He adjusts himself further into the headboard, hands reaching up to tug at the blanket that's tucked up to your shoulders away. He brushes your hair back behind your shoulders, fingers trailing over your neck before their coming up to grip your chin.

“Tell me what you want, "he voiced eyes staring intently into yours.

You raised a brow, “what do you mean Buck?”

“just tell me what you want, what do you need me to do,” he said his thumb running over your cheek.

You knew what Bucky was asking you, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the tiniest bit inadequate with him, especially with the events of today. Hoping to play off his request you decided to do what you knew best, “I think you’ve been spending a little too much time on Tumblr Buck,” you teased offering him a smirk.

“It’s been a long week doll, I had a lot of studying to do, a lot of work about me that needed to be beta’d”

A giggle slipped past your lips, “Bucky you’re not the beta reader if the work has already been published,”

A frown pulled at his lips, “well whatever,” he grumbled before his face was smoothing over again, “i still did a lot of work, and I came across a couple of posts that piqued my interest,”

You raised a brow in question allowing him to continue, “what are your thoughts on my thighs?”

You almost choked on your saliva, “excuse me what?”

“oh come on doll,” he teased thigh muscles flexing under you bottom.

“uh they’re nice?” you questioned, earning you a low chuckle.

“that’s not what I meant,” he murmured the fingers of his right hand trailing over the skin of your cheek descending down your neck where they danced around your collar dipping further till his fingers stopped at the tops of you breast. His left hand moved up your body tipping your head back slightly as he leaned forward nipping at the skin of your neck.

“Do you imagine riding them, feeling them tense underneath your warmth” he whispered his tongue running along your skin nipping at that sweet spot beneath your ear that had your back arching for him.

A small moan falls from your lips, Bucky moves his head away from your neck, your body moving with him. Your head falls forward, your hands trailing up his chest till they’re tangling in his hair your lips pushing into his roughly. You grind into him, his tongue finding yours when a gasp falls from your lips, you feel his muscles contracting under your own thighs, a shiver of want washes over you as you pull your lips away from his, your body moving to the side as you adjust yourself so your sitting on the top of his left thigh, his metal appendage gripping your hip to help steady you. You feel his muscle harden beneath you, you give a tentative swirl of your hips, a low gasp falling from your lips at the sensation of pleasure it brings to your clit. His right hand meets your hips, guiding you down harder this time.

“Keep going y/n,” he husks his head dipping down into the crevice of your neck. Your hips push forward and back the friction drawing breathy moans to fall from your lips. Your body shudders from the building pleasure, your arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck pulling him closer to you as you continue to ride it out bringing your closer. Your panties are wet with your slick, and they’re only growing damper as Bucky’s hands continue to guide you. Whimpers of pleasure fall from your lips, “fuck keep going sweetheart,” Bucky encourages. Your thighs start to ache as you try to keep your pace, hips rutting frantically to draw you closer.

His lips are kissing across your exposed skin, a broken “fuck” falls from your lips as you grind down faster, hips swiveling down harder, his thigh muscles flexing beneath your aching pussy. The pressure continues to build within your walls, the heat of your climax rising. Bucky nips at your neck pushing you over, pleasure washes over you, his name falling from your lips in a breathy moan. Your hips continue to jerk as you ride out your pleasure, your body falling into Bucky, quiet gasps falling from your lips as you come down from your high.

He smiles against your skin, “so I take it you think about them then?” he teases pressing a kiss to your dewy skin.

You murmur into his skin, a breathy laugh falling from your lips. You adjust in his lap feeling the hardness of his cock through his pants. Not letting yourself think twice about your next moves, you trail your hand down cupping his bulge. A low growl falls from his lips as you slip off of his thigh to kneel between his legs. Your fingers work over the button popping it open, as you work the zipper down. You look up at him through your lashes, your fingers tugging at the top of his jeans. Bucky looks down at you with lust ridden eyes, his hips lifting to help you pull them down further, his briefs coming down as well. His cock springs forward, as you slide down nestling between his open thighs. Your arms rest against his thighs as you take his cock into your hand, you can feel your wetness beneath your skin as you give his cock a few tentative strokes drawing low moans from him.

“Fuck doll,” he moans his head thrown back in pleasure as you run your tongue along the underside of his pulsing cock running it from base to tip. He groans as you take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling over the tip. A grunt falls from Buckys lips, his thighs flexing, stomach tightening in pleasure. You find a steady rhythm with your mouth that has Bucky’s thighs flexing underneath your arms, groans of pleasure falling from his sinful lips. You pull away with a wet pop, your tongue giving him one last lick that his feet pushing into the bed, “fucking hell sweetheart, didn’t realize I missed that mouth of yours,” he grinned gripping your chin, his thumb running over your swollen lips.

A lopsided grin pulls at your lips, “come up here,” he murmurs his hands reaching for you. Bucky doesn’t waste time as he presses his lips to yours, his hands sliding down your sides to remove your shorts. He grabs a hold of your ass squeezing, drawing a low moan from you as he pulls you up higher your legs on either side of his hips, his cock pressing against your wet heat.

He’s pressing along your jaw, his hands pulling at your hair, “what do you want y/n, tell me what you want,” he asks continuing to press open mouthed kisses to your heated skin,

Your pussy clenches as you feel his cock push up, teasing, “fuck,” you moan grinding back, “I want-”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck me,” you moan,

His cock twitches against your ass, as he slides it down to your entrances, the tip pressing in, you push onto your arms the rest of him pushing in till he’s buried to the hilt. A moan falls from your lips as you feel him pulse within your walls.

“Take over doll, take what you want,” he groans.

Your body falls forward onto his, as you lift yourself off of him till only his tip is left inside before your hips are grinding back down. Your movements are slow, teasing as your grind, twist, and swirl your hips over his cock. Whiny moans are falling from your lips as you watch Bucky fall apart in pleasure. His hands are gripping your hips tightly, they’re guiding you, moving you on him till he’s hiding those pleasurable spots within you. Your thighs quiver in pleasure and pain, your arms giving out as you fall into Bucky’s chest “Bucky fuck me please,” you moan needing the release, needing to feel his warmth spill into you.

A growl falls from his lips as he grips your hips tighter, he plants his feet to the bed as he slams into you building a quickening pace. He’s pounding into you rough and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Your mouth drops open in pleasure, your moans pressing into his skin to keep from being loud. His arms wrap around you holding you tightly as he fucks up into you, your mouth finds his as your orgasm washes over you, your moans mixing with his. Your body goes lax in his as he continues to fuck into you warm wet heat, you tighten around him, a groan falling from his lips and into yours as his warmth spills into you. His hands slide up your back gripping your face as he keeps your lips mingled with his, “fuck,” he groans against your lips.

Your both coming down from your post coital state when Bucky speaks up, you lift your head from his sweat slicked chest to get a good look at him, “you know your boss was right about one thing, you really are something special,” he whispers with a glint in his eye, “your rack and ass are just a plus,” he adds a smirk pulling at his lips.

Your laughter fills the room, your head finding its way back onto his chest, “I’m going to kick you out of my room Barnes,” you threatened.

“You wouldn’t,” he states “you’ve been gone a week, we have a lot to catch up on,”

“Catch up on?” You questioned looking up at him.

“Oh you’ll see,” he grins flipping the two of you over.

Part 4

Behind The Screen Tag-list: @ladifreakingda @georgialeighc13 @racewife2004 @multy-fandom-lover @otvlanga @sailorstupidsblog @nightshade7117 @wantingtobekorra @gazzan-a @clarinette07 @amanda-the-fangirl @im-sure-its-fine @sagechanoafterdark @heyywestman @runaway-escape @ilovesupersoldiers @unlistedpond @rayofdawnworld @badassbaker @spookyanairwin @fandom-basurero @krabby-tentacles

for the tags with a line across i did all i could to tag you, i even searched as well how to tag the untaggable but i couldnt get it to work, im so sorry!

#behind the screen #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes slow burn #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes au series #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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wannabeavocaloidmystery · 3 years

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Um, Hello, Hi! I- I stream tomorrow!

https://www.twitch.tv/toxicmayhemt

Um.....One other thing, I don't think I ever introduced my direct stream announcing self over here. So, Um, yeah, IDK, Hi! Hello folks! I'll be streaming tomorrow at https://www.twitch.tv/toxicmayhemt at 2pm est~4pm 4:45 est! (I'll be doing a homework stream!)

I...uh, am extending my HWstream, and shortening my EMPHGC-(D)SMP stream to 5:30~7pm est or so on Fridays.

I gotta prioritize completing my homework assignments because new deadline reasons and cuz I'm almost done my assignments.

I wanna pour more time into my Minecraft stream, cuz Minecraft hyperfixation and that Minecraft kinda attributes to that passion I've longed for.

And also have time to figure how to get my life together, (because that apparently possible for my neurodivergent brain.)

So, I really gotta get my homework and school stuff together. (Amongst all the other things I gotta do.)

I, kinda got a lot for what I wanna do with my stream, life and stuff, so I'm still trying to get there towards the stars. I just gotta stay on my work.

Now I won't do a homework stream on Saturday and Sunday at least, and I'll go forward with having my HW streams on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. And I'll keep my Minecraft streams on Saturdays or Sundays. (For an attemp at consistency.)

Yeah, I don't know how or effectively express all my feels and current sentiments. So y'all welcome to join me on my streams to get a glimpse of my scattered brains.

Also, thanks to those who been hanging along for the wild ride. I really appreciate folks

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pepperonijem · 4 years

Text

I. Plus One || Count on Me

I. Plus One → Count on Me masterlist

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: none, this is just fluff I guess. Or, pre-fluff???

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: .The beginning of it all. What else is there to say? (College AU)

A/N: I wrote this for @sebbbystaaan‘s 500 writing challenge! Thanks for letting me participate in this! :) My prompt was “Hey, we do what we do best. We improvise, all right?” from Fast and Furious 6. This is part one of a mini series!

“Alright, I’ll see you guys in two weeks,” the professor shouted over the cacophony of laptops being shut and backpacks opening. “Enjoy your spring break everyone!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief, thankful that this was he didn’t have to worry about calculus for the next week. He packed up his notebook and followed the exodus into the halls of the building. Peter paused by the small couch by the elevators, deciding to sit down and wait for the crowd to diminish rather than fight for a spot in the overcrowded elevator.

Unlike most of his classmates, Peter was in no rush to get out of the building. He had no plans to go back home over the week-long break. Happy and Aunt May were on a small vacation of their own and with Ned’s spring break not being until a few weeks later, Peter had made the decision to just stay on campus for the week. Peter’s big plans for the week mostly consisted of seeing how quickly he can learn to solve a Rubiks cube, and then maybe trying out the game he just bought, something about farming?

He passively scanned the bulletin board behind him, trying to pass the time as more people flooded the hall. Guitar classes, babysitting gigs, research studies, the usual. His eyes passed over each flyer but stopped on a sheet of notebook paper, hastily handwritten, with accents of neon highlighters around a phone number.

FAKE DATE NEEDED FOR A WEDDING. RSVP 555-0120. I’LL PAY YOU $50 AND YOU GET A FREE MEAL. SERIES INQUIRIES ONLY!!

Peter let out a chuckle and noticed that the date was this Friday. Figuring he had nothing better to do anyway, he pulled out his phone and began typing in the number, not realizing it was already in his phone.

(Y/N) from class

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to remember what class he had you in, until a silly memory of a conversation the two of you had about trying to insert as many Spongebob references into your presentation as possible. Oh right, he recalled. She was in that French class I took last year. Your professor had assigned you to project groups at the beginning of the semester based on who you were sitting with, and it just so happened that you were the only two people who sat at the front row.

The first project you and Peter had together was an oral presentation in which you had to have a conversation in front of the whole class. The morning of the presentation, you and Peter noticed everyone else rehearsing and carrying out extensive scenes, whereas the two of you had agreed to wing it, not thinking seriously about the project at all. Funny enough, your presentation went smoothly, scoring high marks for the both of you. By the end of the semester, you two had become somewhat friendly with each other in class, but unfortunately, because you two were in different majors, it was the last class you had together.

Although Peter would never admit it, he was disappointed in himself for not ever asking you to hang out outside of the class. But now, he finally had a chance to do something about it.

Once he got back to his dorm, Peter dropped his backpack on the floor and flopped on his bed. He pulled out his phone and typed out a message, analyzing every word to make it sound as casual as possible.

Hey (Y/N), it’s Peter! We had French together last year. Um, I saw your flyer outside of my class, about the wedding. Do you still need a date? I don’t have any plans this break so uh, I thought why not?

Before he could think too hard about his wording, he hit send and set his phone face down in a terrible attempt to not freak out over a reply, but the thoughts flooded his brain anyway. Oh god, oh god what if she doesn’t remember me? Or worse what if she did remember me and now she thinks I’m a creep? “So I thought why not?” Come on Parker, you sound like you don’t care. Maybe she didn’t even--

A loud ding came from the other side of his mattress and he scrambled to flip over his phone.

4 new messages from (Y/N) from class

Peter unlocked his phone and checked the messages.

Yeah, I remember you! We did that Spongebob presentation! Also, yeah I definitely am in need of that date TBH I’m glad it’s you asking me because I was scared I was gonna get some weird messages. Anyway, if you’re not in class or anything can you meet me at the cafe in 10 minutes?

Peter replied a quick yes before slipping back out of his dorm room and headed towards the campus cafe, trying to let out his jitters before he saw you. Come on Parker, you’ve fought space aliens and literally saved the world, you can do this. He hyped himself up, and let out a deep breath before opening the door. The smell of fresh baked croissants and strong coffee enveloped him in a warm hug as he walked through and he immediately felt a wave of calmness wash over him as he walked over to where you were seated at a table in the back, tucked away from the chatter and sounds of the rest of the cafe.

“Hey,” you looked up from your laptop and smiled at Peter as he slid into the opposite side of the booth and slid his backpack off. “I got us a couple of cookies, but I don’t know if you like coffee or not so I didn’t get you a drink.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” he waved it off. “Thank you for the cookies though, these are my favorite,” he said as he reached for one of the snickerdoodles. “So, why the fake date?” He asked.

“Right,” you began, taking a deep breath. “So funny story, my cousin is getting married next week, and one day when I was home I mentioned that I was working on a project with a guy, and somehow they assumed that I was talking about my boyfriend, and everyone was so excited so I didn’t have the heart to tell them no, and so blah blah a year later, they’re using this whole wedding to try to meet my… nonexistent… boyfriend. Which is where you come in!”

You grinned sheepishly as you stared at a wide-eyed Peter. Somewhere in your head, there was a voice saying that this was not a good idea, coming to a crescendo until Peter finally let out a laugh. You laughed with him, unsure of what he would say.

“I’m in,” Peter said with an excited smile.

The next couple of hours went by in a blur as you and Peter worked on the details of your fake relationship. From your first date, your anniversary, how Peter asked you out, what he got you for Christmas, for your birthday, you tried to cover as much as you can.

“Okay, well what happens if someone asks us something we forget to cover?” Peter asked nervously. “Or, or, what happens if I say the wrong thing, or we get our stories mixed up--”

“Hey,” you interrupted, flashing Peter a calming smile. “We do what we do best. We improvise, all right?”

Peter nodded, setting his pencil down and grabbed the last cookie.

“The trick is to base everything on as much truth as possible,” you taught him. “The more truth we tell, the less lies we have to remember.” You leaned back, somehow more relaxed than you probably should be in this situation. “We’re gonna do great, okay, Pete?”

With a full mouth, Peter returned your smile. Although he was extremely nervous, he had to admit, he was also excited. It was evident from your days in French class and the last few hours that the two of you had a pretty solid chemistry, as it was incredibly simple and fun to bounce ideas off each other. No idea was a bad idea between the two of you. Just silly ideas and good ideas, but nearly everything ended in laughter.

By the time you had finally finished planning, the sun was long gone. The two of you packed up your stuff and Peter walked with you back to the dorms, still not wanting the evening to end. He was hooked on your company, and the regret he felt from not pursuing your friendship sooner left him with the gnawing desire to have more than just this one fake date with you, to have this arrangement blossom into a real friendship, that goes beyond a classroom.

Once you finally arrived at your door, your conversation came to a slow stop. “This is me,” you sighed. “Thanks for walking me back, and uh, thanks for agreeing to help me with this crazy scheme.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Peter smiled at you. “This is gonna be fun, I can feel it.” Peter felt butterflies in his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of you or because of his anxiety, but he was excited nonetheless.

You let out a small chuckle. “I’ll see you on Thursday, for the rehearsal dinner?” you asked, still beaming at him.

Peter nodded and extended his hand for you to shake, as you rolled your eyes and gave him a quick hug instead. Oh they’re definitely because of her, he thought.

“It’s a date.”

#Tom Holland #Tom Holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland headcanon #tom holland x reader #tom holland x yn #Peter parker #spider-man #spiderman #spider man #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker headcanon #peter parker x reader #jem speaks

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lady-of-lies · 4 years

Text

A little sarchotic

A/N: Here we have it, week 15 of the year long challenge. I just wanted to say that this is inspired a lot by my many hours spent on pinterest so sorry in advance. Also Since I’m participating in another writing challenge starting on Friday my fics are going to be more of short imagines than oneshots because I’m working on school too so sorry if the fics to come in November aren’t up to the same quality!

Prompt: “ Your sarcasm is not only unnecessary, but unwanted.”

Word count: 1119

Warnings: swearing and bad writing.

Loki Laufeyson x reader

Today had to be the worst day in your life. It had been many years since you had had a bad day reaching this level of fuck yous, if you’d counted correctly, there had been a total of fifty seven fuck yous uttered before lunch. That has to be a new record, well, you hoped it was at least because managing to live through this day has to come with some sort of reward. It was very rare for you to admit to having a bad day and usually you wouldn’t swear this much, but honestly, this day had had it coming.

The first sign that this day would go down the drain was when your alarm didn’t go off in the morning making you late for work. In your hurry to get out of the door as soon as possible and minimize the lateness you had gotten attacked by the cereal box, taken a milk shower, run out of clean clothes to wear and as if that hadn’t been enough, your hairdryer had tried to kill you when you’d tried to use it. And this was all before eight AM. It had really been a rotten day.

After finally arriving at work, only fifteen minutes late thank you very much, you just had to run into Kevin. I think we all have that one coworker that we just wished could go up and quit, or at least stay out of the way for the entirety of the shift. The bastard had managed to corner you in the common room as you were preparing for Mr.Stark’s latest charity event. Oh yeah, you worked for none other than Tony Stark, the world famous billionaire, playboy and philanthropist, as he liked to introduce himself. Enough of that, back to Kevin.

Nothing good ever came from this guy, he never helped with any of the work, just sliding along on the hard labour you poured into your assignments and then claiming he did at least half of it. More often than not he took all the credit if you were to be honest, but you never complained, just avoiding him to the best of your ability. Usually he was the one arriving late, leave it to today to make him on time just the day you happened to be a few minutes late.

As usual he used all the pet names in the book, trespassed on your personal space by the mile, tried asking you out with the worst pick-up lines in history and, never. Stopped. Talking. But when you finally got rid of him you couldn’t help but let out a frustrated mumble as you went to continue with your decorating.

“I’ve met a lot of pricks in my life, but that guy is a fucking cactus”

You had thought you were alone in the room but a low chuckle both startled you and proved you otherwise. Looking in the direction from where the ear pleasing sound had come from you found a tall, lean man with raven hair and dressed in the most intriguing garments that fitted his person in all the right places. Loki. You had never really talked to him, just seeing him around the tower reading as you run around trying to complete one of Mr.stark’s commands after the other. Standing before him you should probably feel embarrassed of what you’d just said or be afraid of him in general, to your surprise though, you were neither. Well, you thought, have I already spoken my mind there's no reason to stop now.

“Yeah. I just said that. Welcome to my mind, you may want to buckle up.”

At that he chuckled again. At least my bad day turned out to be amusing to someone. The statement followed by a somewhat awkward silence, he just stood on the opposite side of the room and observed my every move.It felt unnerving,and had it not been for him moving over to the kitchen area and letting his eyes roam freely over a fruit bowl instead you may actually have considered to fling yourself out the window. Your day couldn’t get worse anyway.

Loki moved with the grace of a royal, which isn't that weird considering that he was one. He looked like he inspected each and every fruit in the grande bowl before picking up an apple. One thing that startled you though was that he offered it to you instead of eating it himself. “apple?” he asked while extending his arm holding the apple in your direction with such a good poker face you couldn’t help but wonder if you just imagined him asking.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry, and I doubt an apple can keep Kevin out of the room so, please, enjoy it yourself”

You kinda thought that would be it of your brief little conversation, but he surprised you yet again. He took a bite from his apple and started his way over to your half of the room before slouching against the armrest of one of the many couches. After yet another minute of silence he answered you.

“You know... An apple a day can keep anyone away. You just have to throw it hard enough”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, well, more like snorting, but, you know. Had the Loki just engaged in a conversation with you? and cracked a joke no less! but you still couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated over your otherwise bad day’s attempt to lighten the mood. You liked Loki, sure. But you preferred not to have him laugh at your expense and fill your head with unseemly ideas, though, throwing an apple at kevin would be very satisfying indeed.

“Your sarcasm is not only unnecessary, but unwanted.”

No later had the last word left your mouth before he replied. You guessed he wasn’t referred to as silver tongue for nothing.

“Says the girl I have listened to muttering sarcastic comments under her breath all morning”

How long had he been in the room exactly? And how had you not noticed him earlier?

“I’m not sarcastic, it's in my nature you see, my friends call me a sarchotic: When you’re so sarcastic, people aren’t sure whether you’re joking or if you’re just plain crazy.”

At that he chuckled again. It was a sound you could get used to. Well, you had to, because that had been the day you and Loki met but it wasn’t the end of your story, no. You became good friends after that. And even further into the future, even though neither of you knew it yet, you would both walk the path of a shared “I do”

Permanent Tag list:

@theincaprincess @deepestfirefun @indelwen-of-mirkwood @gaia-writes-stuff @sdavid09 @peter-pan-on-neverland @ek823 @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @soradragon @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki x you #loki x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #imagine loki #Avengers #imagine avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #lady-of-lies #tale tellers 52 week writing challenge

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years

Text

Stay Safe {Eijirou Kirishima}

She had woken up to a text from her boyfriend timestamped way too early in the morning.

"Work study needs the big guns! won't have my phone most of the day but I'll call you when I'm on my way back to the dorms. Have a good day in class and take great notes for me to copy"

Smiling, she typed back assurances of his capabilities and a request for his safety, the red heart emoji ending her message.

It wasn't too out of the ordinary for him to be leaving for his work study earlier than she left for class, but it had never been that early. Usually he was also late coming back to the dorms, so a lot of their interactions lately were either quick kisses good morning or good night depending.

The best days, though, were the days he didn't need to go into Fat Gum's agency and sat in class just like her. Those were the days she'd come to love because they got to see each other from dawn until hours after dusk; they could eat all three meals together, study together, curl up together in one of their dorms and just talk.

She was so happy for him when he began his work study and her pride shone on her face each time it was mentioned because he was barreling his way onto the hero scene at a breakneck speed. And God, did she love to see him advancing towards his dream.

With a sigh, she rose from her bed and set about getting ready for her day of classes.

School dragged heavily as it usually did when Kirishima wasn't around for lessons. She managed, of course, but days were so much brighter with the redhead to bridge the social gaps between classmates.

The class was smaller lately with several of the work study students out on concurrent days. Study groups formed shrank down to more manageable numbers in the evenings too.

It was after her own study group with Mina, Sero, and Kaminari was finished that she made her way up to her dorm room, the elevator doors parting and allowing her to trudge past Uraraka's room to her own.

She bent down to set her messenger bag next to her desk and straightened to open her laptop, allowing it time to boot up as she began her nighttime routine. All the while she was hyper aware of her phone's silence.

Once finished with brushing her teeth and hair, washing her face, and changing into her pajamas, she came back to her desk and sat down to work on her literature essay for Cementoss' class. It was due to be turned in on Monday so being half done on Thursday night was decent progress. Her goal was to be finished by Friday night so that her weekend was relatively free to spend with her friends and boyfriend since the weather was forecasted to be beautiful.

The hands on the clock ticked closer to double digits and the sound of Bakugo returning from his provisional license remedial course, cursing the time because of the sleep he would be losing, were all that she heard as she typed. Here and there the elevator would let out a ding or the occasional door would be heard opening and closing but as the moon rose higher in the sky, her phone remained quiet.

It was later than when he usually returned, and part of her was worried that he was overworking himself with the early start and late return, but he was his own person and she knew he would push himself to the ends of the earth to fulfill his dream of becoming a pro hero. Still, she would look out for his wellbeing regardless.

As it stood, she needed to look out for her own interests for the time being. With roughly one more page left to finish for her literature essay, she saved her work and turned off her laptop, the charging cord securely in place as she left it to power up overnight. She crawled into bed after flicking off her overhead light and grabbed her phone from her bedside table to tap out a quick message to her boyfriend.

“I hate that I didn’t get to see you today but I know you’re working hard out there with Fat Gum and Amajiki. Get some sleep once you’re back and I’ll see you as soon as I can Red Riot”

She made sure her ringer was set high enough to wake her from sleep and set it back on her nightstand, curling into her blankets in hopes that her text alert would go off sooner rather than later.

So it was with both sadness and worry that the next sound she heard from her phone was her morning alarm. With no contact from Kirishima, still, after over 24 hours, she felt a knot begin to form in her stomach.

Though it seemed that none of the work study students had been seen since the night before last either. Dorm neighbors confirmed that none of them had returned to their rooms at all during the night and speculation started to run rampant throughout the entirety of the class.

It wasn’t until 9:30 when she was sitting in Present Mic’s English class next to Mina that some light was shed.

Mr. Aizawa had not been in homeroom for the second day in a row, All Might taking his place as a substitute to go over more information in regards to their provisional hero licenses and an upcoming exam review. Aizawa’s absence was of course questioned but only the reply of “assisting with an important matter” was given.

Now Present Mic’s normally boisterous personality was dulled in a way that mirrored her own, worry and some confusion being read on his face as he stumbled through a lesson on adjectives. This had also been questioned—albeit more quietly—but before anything further could be said, the class was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Principal Nezu accompanied by Hound Dog came into the room and pulled Mic aside, Hound Dog observing the students until his gaze landed on her. Her brows furrowed before shooting up in surprise as a loud “WHAT?!” came from their teacher. Mic hurried from the room and Nezu turned to address the class.

“Good morning students!” he said cheerily, one paw lifted in a wave. “I must apologize for interrupting, but you see, Present Mic has a personal matter to attend to and will not be overseeing classes for the rest of the day. I do ask that you use your remaining class time productively as a sort of study hall due to the circumstances.”

Confused muttering rose from the students as a few of them grouped together to work on other assignments. Just as she began to turn towards Mina, Nezu called her name and advised she bring her belongings with a gesture to follow him.

“Yes, sir?” she asked hesitantly, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

“Once again, I do apologize for interrupting your class, however the matter that calls Present Mic away does the same to you,” he began as they walked down the hallway towards Hound Dog’s office.

She frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“That is to be expected,” the principal mused as they entered the office and took their seats. “You are in a relationship with Eijirou Kirishima, am I correct?” At her nod, he continued, “Mr. Kirishima’s work study has involved him with the rescue of a young girl held captive by the Shie Hassaikai sect of the Yakuza. This operation began yesterday at approximately 8:30am and concluded just a short time ago at 9:15 this morning. While successful, the raid did leave several injured heroes, of which Mr. Kirishima was one of them. I imagine what I’m saying is extremely disconcerting, but I can assure you that he is alive and expected by preliminary examinations to make a full recovery.”

Owlish eyes blinked back at him, unfocused.

Hound Dog sighed sympathetically, the sound coming out as more of a snuffle as he reached across his desk to gently pat her hands where they sat clasped loosely on her lap.

“Of course, Hound Dog is here to provide any necessary guidance services that you may need, howe-“

“Can I see him?” she interrupted in a hoarse whisper. “Can I see Eijirou? Which hospital is he being taken to?”

Nezu smiled and extended his paws out over his head. “Why of course! I was just about to offer you the opportunity to accompany All Might, Present Mic, and myself to the hospital. Would you like to take your things to your dorm room or take them with you?”

“I’ll give them to Mina, she can drop it off during her break.”

“Very well, please meet us at the main gate and we shall visit our heroes, hm?”

She stood, bowing to the men in front of her. “Thank you both for informing me of the situation. I’m extremely grateful.”

Once she left the office, she hurried back to the English classroom to drop her things off with Mina, all the while her thoughts blurred between what the principal had told her and pure panic at the thought of the state in which she would find her boyfriend when she finally got to see him.

As she reached the classroom she scanned over her fellow students, noting the absence of Mina, Sero, and Kaminari, the three friends more than likely taking their now free time to hit the vending machines near one of the student lounges.

She laid a hand against the doorframe with a defeated sigh, her eyes closing tightly as they started to burn with the threat of overwhelmed tears.

“Hey.”

The gruff voice made her open her eyes, seeing Bakugo looking at her from his seat near the doorway, the noise of the other students purely static behind him.

“Was it about Kirishima?” he asked, crimson eyes locked with hers. His tone of voice implied that he knew the answer already.

She nodded, biting her lip. “He’s- I need to go to him, and I wanted to ask Mina to- I didn’t want to take my things-“

“Your dorm locked?” he interrupted, and she shook her head. “Leave your shit with me and I’ll drop it in your room. I’m on the same floor so it’s not a big deal.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, placing her bag at the foot of his desk.

He clicked his tongue and looked away from her. “Go see your shitty boyfriend.”

A tiny smile curled on her lips as she took one last glance to the ash blonde before heading out to the front of the school, joining the staff members at the main gate where a car was waiting to take them to their destination.

By the time they reached the hospital, it was nearly eleven. Her fingers were fidgeting with the sleeve of her blazer the entire ride and the nervous action refused to let up as she walked the secured corridors with her school’s staff members. The strong smell of antiseptics did nothing to calm the churning of her stomach the deeper into the current hero ward they ventured.

So many heroes were in different rooms being treated with various injuries, some grouped up speaking in low voices of what their role in the raid had been and others unconscious in beds they passed. It was overwhelming how large the operation had been, and yet not a single word had been said to anyone until it was over.

Her mind wandered to contemplating where her boyfriend was, worry sitting heavily in her chest at what state she would find him in when she got to him.

“Go ahead, Mic,” she heard Principal Nezu say, and she looked up in time to see Present Mic dart into one of the rooms on their right. As she passed by, she saw Mic clinging to Aizawa and noticed that, for once, he was speaking in a tone so soft that his words could not be heard.

Feeling as though she were intruding on a private moment, she looked away.

A moment later, All Might also broke off to hurriedly enter a room shrouded by curtains that came nearly to the linoleum floor. She could just make out Recovery Girl’s cane through the gap, and she hoped that good news would be found within the room.

She turned to ask Nezu if her boyfriend’s parents had been informed and if they were also in the hospital, but before the words could form on her tongue, a tall blonde man stepped up to the both of them, a Sukiya takeout bag in his hands.

“Principal Nezu!” he greeted. “It’s great to see you again, sir! I gotta tell ya, these students of yours are on track to be some amazing pros!”

“Ah, Fat Gum, it’s wonderful to see you as well! I’m happy to hear that our efforts to train the next generation of heroes are indeed paying off. In fact, I am accompanied by another of our students in the hero course, who is also the significant other of Red Riot.”

She introduced herself politely, feeling awkward at meeting one of the more well-known heroes in the area and the sensei of her boyfriend.

“Great to meet you!” Fat Gum said happily. “Kirishima’s told Amajiki and I so much about you during patrols, it’s great to put a face to the name! He was a huge asset during this operation, and he has so much to be proud of; he’s truly proved himself to be worthy of following in Crimson Riot’s footsteps. Without him, I don’t think I would be standing here talking to you.”

Warmth spread through her, a sense of pride in the man she was lucky enough to call hers.

“I’m sure you’re eager to see him—he’s down in room 22 on the right. Just to warn you, he’s pretty beat up, but he’s gonna be just fine!”

“Thank you so much!” she said, bowing slightly before rushing down the corridor until she came to the plaque reading 22 with “E. Kirishima” listed right below it.

She turned into the room, her steps hesitant as she took in the sight of the bandaged redhead laid on the bed staring out the window.

“Eijirou?”

He let out a quiet gasp before turning towards her, eyes wide with surprise at seeing her in front of him. Slowly, his lips curled into a smile, and he held out a hand towards her.

“Babe, I’m so glad to see you!”

She moved to his bedside and gingerly took his outstretched hand between the both of hers, sitting down in the chair to his left. Her thumb stroked the back of his hand as her eyes trailed over the bandages across his broad chest and the length of his arms. Even his handsome face had taken damage with gauze taped to his right cheek amongst other scratches and bits of dirt.

“Hey, I’m alright,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “Don’t look so sad, okay? I’m really sorry I worried you.”

She rolled her lips into her mouth. “Honestly, I was worried when I didn’t hear from you last night and my stomach’s been in knots since Nezu told me you were hurt… but I’m so happy that you’re alright. I’m not upset, Ei, I’m actually really really proud of you.”

His lips parted in surprise. “Proud?”

“Yes, proud,” she chuckled. “On my way to your room I ran into Fat Gum who told me that you were a huge part of the raid and that because of you, he was still standing. He said that you’ve got so much to be proud of, and I know that he’s right when he says you’re going to be an amazing pro hero one day.”

Her boyfriend blushed and averted his eyes to look down at the cream-colored blanket over his legs.

“I like that I can make you blush,” she said with a small smile.

“I like that you can, too,” he murmured, raising his gaze to her once again. “I’m really glad that this mission went as well as it did. We saved a little girl, you know? She’s… she’s only six, and they were taking her blood so that they could use her quirk to make a drug that permanently takes away someone’s quirk. Lemillion… they told me that he was hit with the drug.”

She frowned, her grip on his hands tightening. The fact that the little girl was safe was absolutely amazing and gave her more cause to persevere in her pursuit of a pro hero’s license to help others just like her. But on the other hand, the idea that Mirio Togata could no longer live that dream after nearly completing his time at UA was devastating.

Another thought that sent a chill down her spine was what if Eijirou had been hit with the drug instead? If the enemy had gotten the shot in before he had activated his quirk, Red Riot would have been over before he truly began. The thought alone made her feel sick to her stomach—to think that the boy she had watched become a man wouldn’t have been able to live out his ideals on the world’s stage… God, she couldn’t even picture it.

“I’m so happy you came back to me in one piece,” she finally said, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Not sure I could’ve handled it if you were banged up worse than this.”

“I’m Red Riot, babe!” he said brightly, sharp smile reassuring. “It wouldn’t be very manly of me to make you worry and then be too hurt to comfort you! I’ve gotta stay safe so I can come back to you, after all.”

She giggled, feeling the apples of her cheeks flushed with the absolute adoration she felt for the redhead in front of her.

“Let’s get you healed so we can get back to Heights Alliance, yeah?” she suggested. “Everyone’s going to want to hear about your mission, but once they do, I get you all to myself, got it? We’ll have two days of cuddles to make up for by then.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, moving towards her.

She leaned forward in the plastic chair, one of her hands lifting to run through his hair before coming down to cup his unbandaged cheek. Her lips pressed against his easily, each of them relaxing into the contact they’d been deprived of for over a day and a half.

Kirishima felt relief at being able to kiss her again. Throughout the raid he had worried that his spirit would truly break and he would lose her, or that he wouldn’t make it out of the underground maze they had been trapped in and she would be pulled from class once his own body was recovered. He had been terrified for either outcome because of the emotional connection he felt to her. He wanted to scream out that it was love, that he had found the girl of his dreams in high school and that five months in he knew she was the only one for him. But there was hesitance that it was too soon to say such monumental words.

Had he not made it through the mission, though, she would never have known how he felt about her.

Pulling apart, they lazily opened their eyes to look at one another once again. Her hand on his cheek moved back up to run through his hair, now limp from the worn gel he had used over a day ago to spike it up.

“Babe?” he whispered.

She hummed. “What is it, Eiji?”

His heart thundered in his chest as he prepared to tell her the three words he felt he should’ve said ages ago.

“I-“

“Kirishima, I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get in to see you, my dear boy.”

They both turned to see Recovery Girl coming into the room with Fat Gum behind her, this time holding a curry rice dish from Matsuya and looking plumper than he had when she first saw him in the hallway.

Her hand fell from his hair and returned to his, her gaze coming back to his eyes, questioning.

Kirishima smiled softly, giving her hands a squeeze. “We’ll talk about it when we get back to the dorms tonight.”

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queenmylovely · 5 years

Text

The Law of Attraction i

Summary: John deacon x fem!reader. Your first week of classes with Professor Deacon.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: little bit of awkwardness, cussing (probably)

A/N: This is the first part of a probably miniseries or two-parter to fill the request I got. I just am incapable of not writing some backstory I guess. Side note: this takes place in the present but John is in his late 30′s. For you, anon, don’t worry, spicy things are coming soon! I hope you all enjoy, and any feedback including likes, replies, reblogs and asks are greatly appreciated! Requests are open!

Request: idk if you write for prof!deaky but like… i’d be so down for that.

Part ii, Part iii*, Masterlist

(look at this picture, what the fuck)

💥💥💥

In your junior year of university, you had finally decided on your major after switching between math and physics. You had definitively chosen electrical engineering. While you had enjoyed math and physics, they were much too focused on theoretical equations than on real-world objects, which is where you found most of your interest.

The problem solving and designing aspects of electrical engineering were what had appealed to you the most. You could plug input into equations and get the correct answers in your sleep, so creating was what would challenge you in the way you wanted to be.

Since you had taken all of the math and physics prerequisites already, you were able to jump straight into the engineering classes and labs right away in the fall of your junior year. When you had registered in the spring prior, you had wanted to keep two days empty so that you could have days free for your part-time job at the admin office. This had somehow ended up in you having five classes between three different professors. Two of the professors you had only one class each with, which meant you had three classes with the same professor. Your days off from classes had landed on Mondays and Fridays, which you thought would be good bookends to your pretty heavy Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Plus, the admin job would be good for starting and/or finishing homework when it was slow.

_____

The first Monday of the semester was spent getting a quick brief on your duties as administrative assistant. It seemed like it would be pretty simple; answering phones, putting appointments into the computer’s calendar, scheduling tours, and directing people to the correct offices around campus. They also said that you were free to do homework in your down time.

That Monday was pretty busy though, which was okay since you didn’t have any homework aside from printing out the syllabus. (Which you might have used the office printer to do.)

You had some pretty frantic-looking students asking questions about how to change their classes or where to find their professor’s office. Since you were a junior and had changed your major twice, you were pretty fluent with all of the forms and were able to answer their questions easily. You went home around 5:00, which, with the hour lunch, made for an eight hour day. Since you were taking 16 engineering credits, you felt pretty good with working 16 hour weeks.

Tuesday you started with a System Modeling and Control class that was 75 minutes long, and started at 9:00. The professor seemed nice, which was good, but you were more worried about the professor you had later that day since he was the one you had three classes with. Two of which were labs of no more than 25 students. First, though, you had an Electromagnetic Theory lecture with him on Tuesday and Thursdays.

The class was at 10:30, which meant you had fifteen minutes to walk down the hall from your first class. You figured you would at least get a good seat.

Walking from room 215, you counted the numbers on either side of the hall until you reached 220. The door was cracked open with a rubber door stop and you looked through the crack to see that it was empty. There must not have been a class in there yet. You pushed the door open and walked in, seeing there were actually a couple people there on the edges. The room was lecture style, but pretty small with only four rows with 10 seats each going up from the floor. There was a lectern in the middle of three blackboards that had been wiped completely clean. You nodded at the other students as they looked up at you, but chose to sit in the middle of the front row. Since you were probably getting a later start to electrical engineering than most, you wanted to be front and center to absorb as much information as possible. And perhaps you were a bit of a teacher’s pet at times.

You pulled out the fresh, three subject, college ruled, spiral notebook you had gotten for this course and a mechanical pencil. Labeling the first page “Electromagnetic Theory,” you then flipped the page and wrote the date. You also took out the syllabus for the class and skimmed over it again while you waited for the professor and the rest of the class to get there.

Students slowly trickled in, most opting for the edges of the room and a couple joining you in the front row, but still near the sides. Once it hit 20 past, the professor walked in. He was on the taller side, a man in his late thirties from what you could tell, with brown hair that was shorter on the sides and longer and kind of curly on top. He was pretty handsome, in kind of a dorky way. He was wearing a plaid button down shirt tucked into jeans with a black belt and dad sneakers. You giggled at that last part and found your eyes drifting to his left hand to see if there was a ring there. There wasn’t. You shook your head slightly at yourself. He was your professor, and your professor with who you will be spending over five hours a week, and a crush will not make it any easier to learn, you had to remind yourself.

Just before class started, a rush of ten students came in at once, and one finally filled the spot next to yours. The two of you said hi and exchanged names (hers was Sarah), and were starting to talk about majors until you heard a loud scraping sound. The class turned their heads to the front of the room to see the professor pushing the lectern all the way against the wall. He finished and faced forward, noticing that the class had its eyes on him.

“Well, since I’ve got your attention, I might as well start,” he said with a smile and the class chuckled. “As it says in your syllabus, I am Professor Deacon, but as I know some of you know by your familiar faces, I am often referred to as ‘Deaky,’” he said, putting air quotes around the nickname, which earned another laugh.

“You can call me whichever you prefer, because I really don’t care. Alright, so obviously this is the class for Electromagnetic Theory, so if you’re in the wrong room, go ahead and leave now, we won’t judge,” he paused for a second and when no one moved, continued. “Good, we can get started.”

That first class was spent going through the syllabus mostly, and outlining the type of assignments and materials everyone would need for the course. He had a pretty dry sense of humor, and cracked jokes throughout the class, which helped to put everyone at ease. That being said, it seemed like it would be a very technical and involved class, and the assignments would require a lot of time and were process-heavy. Professor Deacon highly encouraged using his office hours for help or to answer any questions, and you made sure to highlight when they were on your syllabus.

When the class came to an end and everyone was packing up, you chatted to Sarah about it.

“Have you had Professor Deacon before?” you asked her.

“Oh, yeah, I had him for Introduction to Electric Circuits my freshman year. He’s a nice guy, and not too tough a grader. Everyone does really call him Deaky, just so you know,” she answered with a smile.

You nodded, “Good to know.”

She left for her next class and you said goodbye to each other before you walked down to the front of the class where Professor Deacon was.

He was writing something down in a little agenda and you stood waiting for him to finish when he looked up and saw you. “Hello,” he said cheerfully.

“Hi. I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, extending your hand for a handshake. His hand met yours and shook it firmly, and you didn’t miss how warm it was against yours. “I just wanted to introduce myself because I’ll be in both of your labs tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s you. I had noticed that there was a student on all three of my rosters. Did I have a really good rating on ratemyprofessor?” he joked.

You laughed lightly and responded, “I couldn’t say. I just declared as Electrical Engineering at the end of last semester, so I have some catching up to do.”

“Really? Most people would have a lot of prereqs to get through first. What was your major before?” he asked warmly.

“Well, first it was math my freshman year and then it was physics last year,” you explained a bit sheepishly.

Professor Deacon didn’t seem to think there was anything unusual about changing your major three times however, and just smiled a toothy smile and said, “Ah, that makes sense. Well, welcome to the department, and I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Thank you. See you tomorrow,” you smiled back before turning around and walking out the door. You were relieved that the professor you would be seeing so much of this semester was nice, although weren’t sure you would be able to bring yourself to call him Deaky.

_____

The syllabus for the labs had said to only bring a folder, pen or pencil, and to wear at least short sleeves, long pants, and closed toed shoes, all of which you had to be willing to get dirty. As you got ready in the morning, you pulled on a faded pair of jeans, a shirt you had used in the past when painting, and your old pair of tennis shoes. You grabbed a jacket to wear over your clothes as you walked through campus and headed out with just a shoulder bag instead of the backpack you normally took to class.

You drove over to campus and parked in the engineering building’s parking lot. You had bought the parking pass for that building since three of your classes were in it, but hadn’t realized that the engineering labs were in a different building on the other side of campus until the day before. You sighed as you turned your car off, knowing you had close to a twenty minute walk, but put on your headphones, turned on some good music, and started walking over.

The building was old and the cinder blocks were painted white, though you could tell from where it was peeling that it had had many coats over the years of varying colors. You had heard from someone in your Computer Science class (which was an hour after your first with Professor Deacon on Tuesdays and Thursdays) that the building used to be the main Engineering building until the university got an endowment for the new, fancy one. Looking at the building, you thought that it must have been pretty cramped since there were only three large rooms and four little ones, which had since been turned into professors’ offices and what could be called the lobby with a check-in desk and no one behind it. There were two offices for the professors whose names you didn’t recognize and they were both of the left side of the building, opposite of the labs. The last one was on the right side, in between the furthest lab and the “lobby” itself, and had a nameplate labeled “John Deacon.”

Each of the lab rooms were designated for a different type of lab. Lab A was filled with cars and engines which you assumed was for mechanical or automotive engineering, Lab B was filled with drafting materials and models which you assumed was for civil engineering, and Lab C was filled with old computers and motors, which was exactly where you were supposed to be.

There were a couple people already in the room, milling about and chatting to each other. You were glad to see Sarah and went up to her to say hi. Looking around at everyone, the two of you laughed at how you all looked more like house painters than engineering students.

“I’m not entirely sure how our clothes would get dirty, but I guess it’s better safe than sorry,” she commented to you.

“I don’t know, maybe if we accidentally blow something up or it catches on fire, the smoot won’t ruin our clothes?” you guessed and the two of you laughed.

“I for one, wasn’t planning on any explosions, but I guess I know to keep a close eye on you now, Y/N,” said a voice from behind you on your right. Sarah and you whipped around to see Professor Deacon standing right there with a smirk on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and Sarah had to hide her giggles behind her hand.

“I-I’m- that was just a joke,” you stammered out.

“Hmmm, I guess we’ll see,” Professor Deacon said, walking to where there was a chalkboard at the front of the lab. Before he turned completely away, though, he shot you a wink that eased your nerves about the joke you made, but for some reason sent a shock of adrenaline (or something else) through your body at the same time.

The rest of the lab went better. Professor Deacon started with introductions of everyone since it was a smaller class and people should definitely know each other by the end of the semester. He then went over the lab and safety procedures, congratulating everyone for their proper attire. He himself was wearing these old carpenter pants that looked straight out of a 90’s catalogue and an oversized t-shirt that seemed like it was a souvenir from Bali but had grease stains all over it. And he was wearing the same sneakers as the day before. You couldn’t help but think it was kinda cute that he wore the same sneakers all the time.

He also took everyone on a little tour of the lab building, starting with Lab A and B briefly and then a more indepth look at a room only accessible through the rear of the building. It was a storage/equipment room that housed a bunch of scrap metal, lumber, spare parts, abandoned student projects, and tools. Everything in there was for free use of students of all labs to work on their projects and the projects for the department. To a bunch of engineering students, it was a treasure trove.

Finally, he took everyone back to Lab C and pointed out all of the stations and larger equipment in the big room. After the tour, he had everyone do a little exercise with some of the tools to get acquainted with them. By the time everyone had completed the exercise, the two hours and forty-five had pretty much elapsed and Professor Deacon let everyone head out a little early.

Of course, since you were in his next lab that took place in 15 minutes, you stayed. And, it seemed that you were the only one in both of these labs, so you stood around awkwardly as everyone left. You were about to grab your phone from your pocket when you heard his voice.

“So you didn’t blow anything up, I’m relieved,” he teased from behind you.

You turned around to see him smirking yet again and laughed lightly before replying, “I mean, it’s only been the first part of the first day so I wouldn’t take your eyes off me just yet.”

There was a beat when both of you realized what that sounded like and you saw Professor Deacon’s ears get pink as you felt your neck heat up. Your eyes widened and you determinedly did not make eye contact.

Trying to relieve the tension, he cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, I’m sorry, but you’re about to have the same exact lab in 15 minutes. I would say you could leave but then you wouldn’t meet everyone else, and there are a couple different things that I talk about.”

You were glad that he changed the subject, and further tried to get things back to normal, “That’s okay. I’ll have a leg up on everyone when we try out the equipment.”

The two of you laughed, and you couldn’t help noticing what a nice laugh he had, “That’s the spirit. They’ll be baffled at your ability to use the air compressor slightly better than they can.”

“Hey, I was the best and fastest in the class just now. It might not have been a competition, but you know it’s true,” you said, still smiling, but pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“You’re very passionate. I like that in a… student,” he said, matching your intense gaze. Neither of you had time to think about his hesitation before saying “student” because a group of your classmates walked in at that moment.

Looking down at his watch, he noticed that it was only five minutes before class started, and he walked away, giving you a nod, to go grab the lab rules handouts.

You watched him walk away and sighed to yourself. It seemed the crush you were trying to fend off wasn’t going anywhere, and with all this time spent with him, was only continuing to grow.

💥💥💥

Taglist: @somekindof-cheese @gwilyoubemine @deacytits @supersonicfreddie @siriuslovesmarlene @bowiequeen @acdeaky @deakysgirl @sunflower-borhap-boys @deakyfordays @queensilveryrog @happy-at-home @ceruleanrainblues @briarrose26 @bensrhapsody @painkiller80

I just kinda created this taglist so if you would like to be taken off or added, just send me a message or ask!

Reminder that my requests are open! If you would like something in a sort of one shot format/length or blurb, etc. send it in! I’ll write for any of the Borhap or Queen boys (Freddie only platonically), Lucy, Patrick Murray, Gardner Langway and adult!Tim Murphy or possibly any of the other characters these people have played if I know enough about them!

#im real excited for the next part #ill have another request thing coming out first though #queen #john deacon #deaky #fic #fluff #queen x reader #john deacon x reader #john deacy #john deaky #deacy #deaky x reader #deacy x reader

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writing-imagines · 5 years

Text

“Tell Me” Chapter 2

It was the first Friday night of the semester and you were exhausted to say the least. A majority of your assigned readings were well over thirty pages and Calhoun had already given the class an un-scheduled paper to finish in two weeks. The only thing that made the week enjoyable was your after class talks with Lizzie, making you feel like actual friends.

You were sitting on the floor of your on campus apartment living room, trying to actually finish your assignments, when Chris walked in.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” He asked dramatically while throwing his bag on the floor.

“My homework? What are you doing?”

“You’re supposed to be getting ready for our night out. We had an agreement.”

“I never fully agreed to go out. Plus, I have all this work to get done before Monday.”

“Oh please, no one ever does the readings. C’mon get up and get dressed. We’re leaving at nine.”

Chris walked down the hall to his room, allowing you to finish up your work. You knew Chris wouldn’t leave you alone until you went out. With a heavy heart, you gathered your books and walked to your room to get ready for the night.

After changing into something suitable for a crowded New York bar, Chris excitedly dragged you outside to start the night. You were proud of yourself for bringing a jacket because the night sky looked very cloudy.

“So, how was your day?” Chris asked as the two of you quickly crossed a busy New York street.

“It’s was okay. Nothing really exciting happened. How was your day?”

“It was great! My psychology class was cancelled, that pretty girl from accounting class was at the gym, and she asked to hang out with us tonight. She’s bringing a friend for you too.” Chris nudged your arm and gave you a smirk.

“Chris no.” You groaned loud enough for the people walking past to stare for a moment.

“You need to get over our history TA, y/n.”

“Her name is Lizzie and I’m not hung up on her.”

“Then why were you drooling over her today during class?”

“I was not drooling over her. I was just trying to focus on what she was saying. She’s a lot quieter than Calhoun.”

“Drooling.” Chris hummed while smirking. Before you got the chance to fire back, two girls started calling for Chris.

“Chris! Chris! Over here!” You looked down the street to see a pretty brunette and dark haired girl jumping up and down trying to get your best friend’s attention.

“Hey Ava!” Chris opened his arms and hugged the girl with dark hair. You stood back awkwardly and watched the interaction. While Chris and Ava talked to each other for a moment, you looked at the girl beside Ava. She was undoubtedly pretty with her brunette hair and brown eyes.

“This is my best friend and roommate, y/n.” Chris gestured towards you. The girls both looked at you with what seemed to be genuine smiles.

“Nice to meet you, y/n! This is my best friend, Julie.”

“Hey, nice to meet you, y/n!” Julie flung herself forward and hugged you. You were a little taken back and awkwardly hugged her with just one arm.

“Nice to meet you too, Julie.” You tried to sound as joyful as possible, but Chris knew you were forcing it. He gave you his well-known ‘please play along’ look.

“Now that we all know each other, let’s go inside before all the booths get taken.”

Chris held his hand out for Ava and she quickly accepted it. While they walked into the bar, Julie looked at you with hopeful eyes, obviously wanting you to offer out your hand. With a forced smile, you extended your hand and she happily held it.

The four of you quickly found one of the last available booths and crammed in. You were glad that Julie finally released your hand once you sat down. Unfortunately, shortly after you sat down, Chris dragged you to the bar for drinks.

“So, what do you think about Julie?” He asked while trying to get the bartenders attention.

“She seems okay.”

“Ava said she’s more into partying than school. Maybe tell her about some of our party stories to break the ice.”

“Like the time you tried to fight that frat guy and ended up getting knocked out?”

“Maybe tell her a different story.”

As the night went on Chris and Ava got closer, looking like boyfriend and girlfriend by ten-thirty. You and Julie on the other hand appeared to be acquaintances. Julie was a nice girl, but she really wasn’t your type. It was true what Chris said earlier, Julie was more focused on partying than school. In the two hours you had spent together, she only told you stories that involved her getting way too drunk and being so hungover she couldn’t make it to class.

Julie was talking about some party in Brooklyn she went to when you turned your head to the bar’s entrance. You watched as the door opened and Elizabeth walked in and immediately went to the bar. Chris and the girls were busy talking, allowing for you to mumble an excuse to leave and go to the bar.

“Hey Lizzie.” You said while sitting on the bar stool beside her. Lizzie quickly turned her head towards you, her unhappy look quickly faded once she realized it was you.

“Hey y/n. Funny running into you here.”

“I could say the same. I didn’t picture you as a dive bar type of girl.”

“I’m usually not, but work and school were rough today.”

“Want to talk about it?” You asked, not really expecting her to accept.

“Professor Calhoun is making my life a living hell. He critiques everything single thing I do. He said the lecture I gave today wasn’t good because I sounded ‘too friendly.’ How am I supposed to sound? Like I’m angry and don’t want to be there?” Lizzie dramatically threw her head back with a groan.

“Yeah that sounds like Calhoun. Don’t take it personally, he hates everyone and their work equally.”

“Great, that makes me feel better.” She laughed and rolled her eyes.

“What are you drinking? I’ll buy the next round.”

“Vodka tonic.”

You waved the bartender down and got Lizzie’s drink. Much to your surprise, Lizzie changed the subject from school to her personal life. She told you about her parents, both successful lawyers, and her best friend since childhood/roommate. As Lizzie started to talk about a family trip to France, she unexpectedly pulled her phone out. She looked at the screen for a moment before returning her attention to you.

“Sorry, that was my roommate. She left her key in the apartment this morning and is now locked out.”

“Hey, it happens to the best of us.”

“She must be the best because it happens to her at least once a week. I swear if she wasn’t my best friend I’d tell her to wait until I got home.” Lizzie rolled her eyes with a small smile. You couldn’t explain why but you loved that small smile.

“Did you take a cab here?”

“Oh no, I walked from the university. My apartment also isn’t too far of a walk from here.”

“I can walk you home if you want. It’s not safe to walk around the city alone at night. Unless, you think it’s inappropriate.” You watched as Elizabeth twisted her lips, appearing to regret what she said earlier in the week.

“You can walk me home, but only because it is dangerous to be alone at night.”

After Lizzie finished her drink the two of you got ready to leave. You looked towards the booth where Chris and the girls were sitting. They were all laughing and obviously didn’t notice your absence. As you followed Lizzie outside, you texted Chris incase they noticed you were gone.

Y/n: I’m going for a quick walk. I’ll be right back

You slid your phone back into your pocket and turned your attention to Lizzie. She was looking around frantically as if someone was following you.

“If you’re worried about someone from the university seeing us I can walk a few feet behind you. That way they won’t think we’re together and any robbers will assume I’m already in the process of robbing you, so they’ll leave you alone.” You let out an awkward laugh while Lizzie nervously bit her lip.

“I’m sorry I’m being so weird. I just don’t want to get in trouble and lose my job or get kicked out of school. I really did want to hang out with you that first day we met.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I don’t know anyone here besides my best friend and I thought-“ Lizzie suddenly stopped and looked away from you. It was hard to tell because of the city lights, but you swore she was blushing.

“You thought?”

“I thought you were cute too.”

“You thought I was cute on the first day I met you? I had to throw on an old shirt and wrinkled jeans so I wouldn’t be late.”

“You looked cute and you were sweet.”

“Thanks. You were hands down the prettiest girl in the room.” It took you a second to realize what you said, but it was too late to take it back. You were intentionally flirting with her now.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-I mean you are pretty. I just...yeah...”

‘Smooth y/n. Smooth.’ You thought while mentally kicking yourself.

“Thank you.” She shyly mumbled.

You were silent for a few moments until Lizzie walked up to a building. You made a mental note that it was almost across the street from one of your favorite cafés.

“This is me. Thanks for walking me home.”

“It was no problem. Thanks for keeping my company at the bar.”

“It was my pleasure. Maybe next time you can tell me some of your stories?”

“Defiantly. I’ve got a lot of stories and I won’t lie to you, a majority of them involve Chris.”

“I look forward to hearing them.”

“I can give you my number. That way we can figure out a time and a place to talk that isn’t after our nine o’clock class.” You practically mumbled. Lizzie’s lips tugged into a smile, making you feel a little less nervous about asking for her number.

“Yeah okay.” Lizzie pulled out her phone and handed it over to you. You shakily typed your name and number into her contacts before handing it back to her. You two in comfortable silence until you felt a rain drop on your head.

“I better head back before it completely pours. I’ll see you later, Lizzie.”

“I’ll call you a cab and you can wait inside if you want.” You really considered her offer, but you remembered Chris and the girls were at the bar.

“That’s okay, I think I can make it home before it downpours.”

“Have fun running and have a good night, y/n.” Lizzie said with a smirk.

“Trust me, I will. Goodnight Lizzie.”

You quickly spun around and started to make your way back to the bar. The closer you got to the destination the more it started to rain. By the time you were a few feet away from the bar it was raining buckets.

Thankfully, the large crowd had died down some. You were able to navigate the crowd without bumping into too many people with your wet clothes. When you reached the booth, you were surprised to find Chris sitting alone.

“Where did the girls go?” You asked sliding in across from Chris.

“They went to the bathroom to adjust their makeup. How was your walk?”

“It was good until it started raining. We’re defiantly going to have to sprint back to the apartment.”

“Did you get Elizabeth home before it started raining?” Chris asked before drinking what you assumed was water. You felt your cheeks get warm at the comment. Whether you told the truth or lied, Chris was going to banter you know matter what.

“I didn’t walk Lizzie home.”

“You really think I didn’t see you two ogling over each other at the bar and then walk out together? Come on y/n, have more faith in me.”

“You can’t tell anyone, okay? She’s on edge about losing her job if she’s seen out with anyone form the university.”

“You’re little love affair is safe with me. But you’re going to have to break the news to Julie that you’re taken. She’s been planning your wedding since you left.”

“Lizzie and I aren’t together. We’re just friends.”

“That’s what everyone says before starting an affair.” Chris hummed with that damn smirk.

“We’re not-“

“Y/n! You’re b-back!” Julie nearly screamed before uncomfortably throwing her arms around you. You didn’t know how it was possible, but she seemed to be even more intoxicated than when you left.

“Do you guys mind if we call it a night? I think she needs to go to bed.” Ava said, slurring a few words in the process.

“I don’t mind. Do you, y/n?” Chris asked, already sliding out of the booth.

“I’m good with going home.”

“Take me homeeeee.” Julie sang, throwing her arms out and almost smacking you in the face.

“Yeah we’re taking you to your own home so you can sleep in your own bed.” Chris offered his hand to Julie and helped her out of the booth. You slid out and immediately Julie threw herself into your arms.

“Carry meeee.” She squealed while tightening her grip around your neck. With a sigh, you forced yourself and Julie through the bar.

Chris managed to grab a cab passing by and the four of you awkwardly squeezed in. Julie and Ava were talking back and forth about some makeup brand the whole time, leaving you and Chris any room to talk. After the headache inducing cab ride was over, you managed to get the girls inside their apartment safely.

Chris and Ava shared a quick goodnight kiss while you helped Julie to the couch. She tried to kiss you, but you laughed it off and told her goodnight. You had just walked out into the hallway, you were waiting for Chris and Ava to say goodbye, when your phone let out a chime. You pulled it out of your pocket and saw a message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey y/n it’s Lizzie. Just thought I’d text you so you’d have my number too

Y/n: Hey thanks for texting me! I was afraid you’d ghost me

Lizzie: I can’t really ghost you since I see you three days a week

Y/n: You got me there, Olsen

“Alright y/n, ready to-oh my God is she texting you?!” Chris asked with wide exaggerated eyes.

“No...I got an email.”

“And you smile like an idiot anytime you get an email?”

“Yeah. I fucking love emails, Chris.”

Chris rolled his eyes before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Come on you love struck puppy, let’s go home.”

Chris let go of your shoulders and started to make his way down the hall. You let out a sigh of relief and followed your best friend down the hallway. You couldn’t wait to go home and recover from the nights events.

Series Master List

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #chris evans imagine #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen x male reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x friend reader #chris evans x platonic!reader #college au #elizabeth olsen college au #chris evans college au

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sellmedoves · 4 years

Text

my college experience

College. I started college in 2016. I was excited that whole summer because I got to have a fresh start and leave high school behind me. I moved into a dorm with 3 girls I didn’t know. I chose to live with random girls that year because I wanted to meet new people. I rushed a sorority at the beginning of the school year, and I met a lot of fun and kind people throughout that week. I got into a seemingly great sorority at the end of rush week and then class began the following week. I really liked my schedule; I didn’t have any 8am classes and I didn’t have any classes at all on Friday’s. It felt like I was finally moving on and starting a new, positive chapter of my life. There was always something in the back of my mind that I felt like was holding me back, though…

I was extremely homesick. My school was only about 30 minutes away from my hometown, but I’m so close to my family, especially my mom, so it was hard for me. I have 3 half siblings, but I grew up as an only child, so it was a difficult transition from always having privacy and my own space to having to share my space with 3 other girls, random girls at that. They were sweet and I actually feel lucky that I got paired with normal people, but it was still hard regardless. I began coming home on weekends and then going back to my dorm during the week. As the first semester went on, I began to isolate myself more and I didn’t have as much ambition and excitement as I used to. By the time I came back from Christmas break and started the second semester, I lost touch with most of the friends that I made, and I felt as if I was the loneliest person in the world. I ended up leaving my sorority right before spring break, isolating myself even further.

Aside from being homesick and lonely, something else I was struggling with was a fear of gaining weight. I was terrified of gaining the “freshman fifteen” that year. I feel like I’ve always had a warped perception of what my body looks like. I’m not sure why that is. Anyways, because of this fear, I barely ate. And by barely ate, I mean I would eat one of those “on the go” sized cups of Cheerios during the day, and that would be it except for when I would go home on the weekends where I’d eat real food with my family. I would look in the mirror and I was never satisfied. I don’t want to say I had an eating disorder as I feel like it’d be disrespectful to people who struggle with life-altering eating disorders for years, but I think it was a result of genuine misery and extremely deep depression. I lost almost 20 pounds that year.

I finally made it through the year and summer began. I was able to move back home, and I got a job. I loved that summer because I was finally free from my freshman year shackles. I began to see a therapist to talk through what I went through mentally and emotionally in the past year and it seemed to have helped me for the time being. I also got diagnosed with ADD that summer which makes...too much sense. I’ve struggled in school my whole life and because of the diagnosis, I now understand why. I have over-focused ADD with OCD tendencies. I tend to obsess over and hang on to things well after others have moved on from it. I’ve been that way my whole life, and now I had an answer as to why. It also causes me to experience mood swings but the Adderall (a God send) I was prescribed helped me to control them, Anyways summer passed by quickly, and I ended up moving into an apartment with 3 girls I was friends with from high school. Sophomore year started and it was great. I was so happy, and it felt like my horrific freshman year was a lifetime ago. There are no “buts” coming about this year. It truly was a wonderful year in my life and it’s something I’ll always cherish when I look back on my hellish college experience as a whole. The next year, though, is a different story.

It’s a story I’m not going to get into. It’s personal and it involves others besides myself, but I respect their privacy and lives since we’ve moved on, so I won’t be going into detail. What I will say is that I have many regrets from this year. I did a lot of things that I’m not proud of and would give anything to go back and change them. I didn’t like the person I was that year looking back, and I still don’t understand why I began to revert back to my misery, maybe it never truly went away like I thought it did. Instead of taking it out on myself like my freshman year, I took it out on others. I now take full responsibility for what I did and the people I hurt as a result and that’s something that I feel like took me a long time to do. It was cruel and it’s something I don’t and won’t try to justify anymore. I’m proud to say that I learned from that experience and the person I was then, isn’t who I am now.

After my junior year, I got an internship working at a consulting company. I LOVED this job. I loved the people I met there and made more friends there than what felt like I had in the entirety of my college experience. Real friendships where we could actually bond over something other than just being in the same class like at school. I realized that I was much happier working in a professional environment than I had ever been at school which made me even more excited to graduate. At the end of the summer, the company offered to extend my internship throughout the school year, and I was THRILLED. I was so happy that I was going to be able to leave school and go somewhere where I actually wanted to be during the week.

My senior year started soon after this and it was just…fine. Not bad but not great either. Just fine. Like I said, I was just grateful to be able to have somewhere to go after class that wasn’t just my apartment or somewhere on campus because of my job. My job began to be where I was the happiest, but, of course, school had to FUCK me over one more time. My class schedule for the second semester was Hitler on paper. I had signed up for the maximum amount of classes my school allows students to take, and just looking at it was overwhelming. I wanted to graduate on time in May and this was the only way to do it. I was forced to quit my job that I loved, and I was devastated. I continued to work there all of Christmas break up until the very last weekend before school started. I hugged my friends at work goodbye and began what would be the hardest semester of my entire life.

When I say this is the hardest semester of my life, I don’t mean it’s been hard like my freshman year was hard. I mean that my entire life is consumed with CLASSES. I feel like I never get a break and I’m always dreading tomorrow. I miss my job, and I miss when my thoughts weren’t filled with overwhelming amounts of assignments and due dates. I guess I should say I MISSED these things actually considering that all of my classes have been converted to online because of the virus terrorizing our planet. As sick as this may sound, if I could choose any semester for something like this to happen, I’m glad it was this one. I hate that a virus that is affecting so many people had to be the reason though. I’m typing this THESIS the day after my school announced it was converting to online classes and it feels like a 10,000-pound weight has been lifted off my shoulders. It felt like I was two assignments away from having a legitimate breakdown. This wasn’t at all how I imagined my last day on campus would be like, but…I’m (kinda) done with college. At least in person. Wow.

I’m not exactly sure what prompted me to write this. I think I wanted to do it for myself as a way to finally let go of the of pain and anger I’ve experienced through college. I want to move on with my life now that I’m less than two months away from graduation and stop hanging on to things from the past and regrets that I’ve had that I just can’t change. I tend to act like I have a tough exterior, but behind that, there’s been a lot of pain and insecurity. Some of which I’ve kept to myself. Sometimes, I look back at that 18 year old girl who was burdened with so much sadness and cry. However, I want to let go of all of it. I have to. I also wanted people to know that not every college experience is the same and they’re not always going to be like what people tell you they are or what you see in the movies. I wish someone would’ve told me that. The lows I’ve felt throughout my time in college are things I wouldn’t wish on anyone especially young people experiencing their freedom and independence for the first time. I hope anyone that might read this who hasn’t started college or who is already in college make the most of their time there. Don’t compare yourself to others and don’t allow yourself to wallow and fall so deep into a hole that you feel like you can’t get out. Get help if you need it, there’s never any shame in doing so. I’m proud of myself for pushing through and I’m ready to start the life I’ve always wanted for myself. Thank you for making it through a 2 and a half page paper of my woes.

Xo,

Dani

#college #college experience #personal

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mymindsmadness · 5 years

Text

Dear Drarry, the final installment

I was going to save this for Fanfic!Friday, but it’s the conclusion, so I thought it needed its own day. Yes, the Dear Drarry series is coming to an end!

I’ve so enjoyed writing these, but I think it’s time for them to come to an end. As this is the final in the series, I played around with the idea of multiple POV’s. So in this we’ll see both sides of the conversation between Harry and Draco.

In this one:

Draco knew that after the war, everything had to change. Starting with the life debt he owed Potter… maybe he’d just write instead. He never expected to keep writing...

Warnings: EWE

EDIT: Shout out to Anon that pointed out it was Vincent that burned in the fire, not Greg! Idk where my head was lol

Previously:

Dear Mrs. Malfoy || Dear Mum and Dad || Dear Ronald Weasley ||

November 28th 2001

Dear Potter,

I wanted to formally thank you for returning my wand now that I have paid my debt to the wizarding world. Mother would also like to extend her gratitude.

As I’m sure you’re aware, even before you chose to testify at my trial, you were owed a life debt on behalf of my family for what you did the Room of Requirement.

Debts aside, I’ve come to realize that I’ve never really thanked you for choosing to not let me be consumed in the fire as Vincent was.

So… thank you. I’m sure you doubt the sincerity of my gratitude due in no small part to our history, but please believe me when I say I am begrudgingly truly thankful.

Now, if we could perhaps come to terms on a way to settle our life debt, I would be happy to leave you to your life as ‘the most promising auror in wizarding history’. It seems the Prophet has not bored of featuring you. I suppose congratulations are in order to both you and Weaslet Ginevra.

I’ll be awaiting your owl,

Draco Malfoy

◢◢◢◢◢◢

December 3rd, 2001

Dear Malfoy,

How do you manage to sound like a ponce in a letter?

You don’t need to thank me for saving your life, Malfoy. And you don’t need to pay me back either. It’s not something I did to get one-up on you. I would have saved anyone. I’m sorry I couldn’t save Crabbe.

And don’t even mention the Prophet. They’re just as untrustworthy as ever. Ginny and I broke up over a year ago; we just kept it quiet. She’s been dating some bloke from an American quidditch team I’ve never heard of. They just got engaged. Naturally, the Prophet saw the ring and jumped to conclusions.

I saw that you and err… Astonia was it? I saw your wedding announcement in Quibbler. I didn’t know you and Luna were friends.

Seriously, don’t worry about any life debts.

Harry Potter

◢◢◢◢◢◢

December 16th, 2001

Dear Potter,

Did you seriously write ‘err’? You know you don’t have to write everything you think, don’t you?

Astoria and I were engaged to be wed, yes. That arrangement was set up long before I was even born. Seeing as I am venturing away from the pureblood traditions and beliefs that got me imprisoned in the first place, I called off the wedding. Normally, I would entertain my mother’s wishes, but Astoria and I didn’t quite see eye to eye – or rather we saw a certain aspect very simil

As I share her interest in men, I didn’t think it fair to enter into a marriage with her. Although I do not hide who I am, I would prefer you didn’t sell that information to any papers.

Lovegood and I are on speaking terms. I find her presence to be calming, if not entertaining.

As for the life debt, it’s not as simple as dissolving it. There are magics that bind. Traditionally, I would have to offer you my first born as a potential match for one of your children. Seeing as I don’t have any children and doubt that you would care for my first born, we must come to an agreement that suits both parties.

Draco Malfoy

◢◢◢◢◢◢

December 18th, 2001

Dear Malfoy,

Me? Me sell information? I think you have me confused with a pointy git we went to Hogwarts with. No, I would never sell information to the papers. Perhaps I’ll have badges made though. Bright green ones that read ‘Malfoy’s Bent’. It seems only fair.

I don’t want your first born. I doubt I’ll even have a first born of my own. Looks like we have something in common after all – Ron would be mortified. Ginny and I split because I was finally able to admit to myself that I fancy blokes. I suppose it should have been obvious when I followed you aro

If you have to settle this ridiculous life debt why not just give me a book or something, yeah? It just has to be something doesn’t it?

Forget that last. I just asked Hermione and she looked at me like I kicked a house elf. She said it must be something important, but I don’t really need anything. And I don’t want to take anything that’s important away from you.

Look, I know we’re not exactly friends, but a bunch of us are going to the pub before the holidays to celebrate. It’s on the 22nd. You should come. We could talk about all this life debt business over a pint and you can make Ron turn that shade of red that makes his hair look orange.

Harry

◢◢◢◢◢◢

December 27th, 2001

Dear Potter,

I only now just recovered from the hangover that concoction you made gave me. Did you know that it was impervious to hangover potions? I didn’t even think that was possible. I suppose it was worth it to watch Weasley sweet-talk a coat rack for the better part of an hour.

It occurred to me Christmas morning that we never did get around to talking about the life debt. Mother asked about it last night at dinner and was sorely disappointed with me for not repaying you yet. I know you’ve had very little interaction with my mother, but she is not someone that you want to be cross with you.

Draco Malfoy

◢◢◢◢◢◢

December 28th, 2001

Malfoy,

On assignment. Not sure how your owl got through the wards. I’ll write you as soon as I’m back.

You called me Harry that night. You could, you know? Call me Harry.

◢◢◢◢◢◢

January 6th 2002

Dear Granger,

I’m sorry to be writing you. I know despite the evening we spent at the Leaky Caldron we are not exactly on speaking terms. First, I want to apologize for the way I acted in school. I have a vague memory of apologizing the night of the 22nd, but as I can hardly remember it, I don’t think that should count. Perhaps you would allow me to buy you lunch one day this week to apologize properly? I prefer it be in muggle London so I will actually be served.

However, the reason I write you is because I haven’t heard from Potter in quite some time. I do not know him well enough (nor do I feel comfortable) to seek him out at the ministry. Last I heard he was on an assignment. If he wanted to stop talking to me, he could have just stated as much.

Regards,

Draco Malfoy

◢◢◢◢◢◢

January 7th, 2002

Dear Malfoy,

I think lunch would be lovely. We’re far too old to carry on this ridiculous feud. I remember you starting to apologize, but then you started rambling about the colour green. Perhaps we had all been too liberal with Harry’s ‘special drink’. Still, it would be nice to get a proper one. Maturity or not, you said some pretty awful things.

As for your question, no I haven’t heard from Harry. Or Ron for that matter. They’re on the same assignment and were due back yesterday. Though, it’s not unusual for their assignments to run long. If I hear anything before you do, I’ll write you myself.

Try not to worry. Harry is a very competent auror.

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger-Weasley

Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

◢◢◢◢◢◢

January 7th, 2002

Dear Granger,

I’m not worried.

Why would I worry about Pott

It’s not as if I care if someth

How is Wednesday for lunch?

Draco Malfoy

◢◢◢◢◢◢

January 11th, 2002

Dear Draco,

It’s okay that I called you Draco isn’t it? It feels silly to still be using each other’s surnames. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to write you sooner. We got caught in a magical vortex and had to walk out of the jungle with a muggle guide. But that’s confidential, so pretend I never said anything.

Hermione told me you had lunch yesterday. Well, I think that’s what she told me. I hardly stayed at the DMLE long enough to get debriefed. I’m exhausted and a mess but I wanted to write you as soon as I got home.

Hermione also said something about you asking after me? If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were worried. I like it.

I kept notes while I was out there. Little things I saw and wanted to remember to tell you. Ron thought I was losing my mind. Forest fever he called it, but I don’t think that’s right.

I think I’ve just gotten used to writing you. I look forward to it now. Don’t let it feed that abnormally large ego of yours.

Since I wrote enough down to send you another letter and you insist that we talk about this life debt, why don’t we have dinner tomorrow? I can even cook if you don’t feel like going out.

Harry

◢◢◢◢◢◢

January 11th, 2002

Dear Harry,

I’m glad to see you’re recovering from your delusions well. Terrible thing that is, losing one’s mind. And you had so little to spare from the start. I’m glad to hear you’re okay though. I know you have a history of personal injury.

Be careful, Potter. Wanting to share things with me? Wanting to cook me dinner? One would think you were a Hufflepuff in search of a date.

Draco

◢◢◢◢◢◢

January 11th, 2002

Draco,

Okay, it’s a date. Seven work for you?

And if we’re going to date, and I was kind of hoping we could, you should call me Harry.

Harry

◢◢◢◢◢◢

January 11th, 2002

Harry,

Bleeding Gryffind..

Seven is fine. I’ll bring wine.

See you then… Harry.

Draco

◢◢◢◢◢◢

March 12th, 2004

Harry,

This really needs to stop. My mother is insistent that we settle our life debt. We’ve talked about this for years – years, Harry.

And before you ask, no. It can’t be a book or a broom or anything else you’ve found lying around and tried to pawn the life debt off on. It has to be something meaningful to me – to the Malfoy name. Something that holds the essence of life and is equal to the gift you’ve given me by saving mine.

I know you’re on assignment, but I also know that you’re able to receive and respond to owls – Hermione told me. When you get home we’re going to settle this once and for all! I’m very cross with you. I might even throw away those tattered trainers you insist on keeping.

I want this settled Harry! Start thinking about things!

Draco

◢◢◢◢◢◢

January 11th, 2002

Draco,

I’ll have you know that I’ve actually given it a great deal of thought. Something that is important to you. Something that holds the ‘Malfoy essence’ which I still think sounds incredibly dirty as I’ve already held the Malfoy essence on several dozen occasions.

It seems you can repay me with your first born after all. Or rather, your life. I’ll take that last name too, while I’m at it.

Should have just waited a few more days and I could have asked you properly. There’s a ring in my bedside table, you spoiled git.

Harry

P.S. Don’t touch my trainers or I’m revoking my proposal

◢◢◢◢◢◢

January 11th, 2002

Harry,

Did you just…

You didn’t just…

You absolute Neanderthal! How on earth am I going to tell people (my mother!) that you proposed via letter!?

... However...I suppose it does meet the requirements… and the ring isn’t terribly gaudy. It will serve the debt.

Now hurry home so I can say yes properly.

I love you, you ridiculous Gryffindor.

Draco.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #dear drarry #fic #fanfiction #mine

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andimackshitposts · 6 years

Text

30 Days of Jyrus, Day 6

Title: Hard Hitting Journalistic Integrity

Summary: Cyrus, a reporter for a celebrity news magazine and website, gets roped into interviewing pop sensation Jonah Beck. (This fic is epistolary, it’s all emails and email attachments).

To: Cyrus Goodman ([email protected])

Subject: Can you cover for me?

Hey Cyrus,

I know this is last minute, but I really need someone to cover my interview assignment next week. My parents are coming into town, and I really need to make time to see them, or I’ll never hear the end of it. Metcalf says I can take the week off if I find someone to cover my assignments.

It’ll be easy. You just meet the guy, talk with him for a bit, ask some questions that I’ve already put together from the research I’ve been doing, and then write it all up. I’ve heard that he’s really nice, as pop-stars go.

Thanks so much,

Andi

To: Andi Mack ([email protected])

Subject: Re: Can you cover for me?

I’ll do it, but you so owe me. You know I hate interviewing.

To: Cyrus Goodman ([email protected])

Subject: Re: Re: Can you cover me?

You’re the best!! I sent the questions to Mr. Beck’s manager, and he’s gonna send you back the ones he approves of. I promise I’ll make it up to you!

To: Cyrus Goodman ([email protected])

Subject: Approved Interview Questions & Topics

Dear Mr. Goodman,

Attached are the approved questions for the interview with Mr. Beck. DO NOT, under any circumstances stray from these questions. Mr. Beck requested that I also give him your email so that he may reach out before the interview, so expect something from his soon.

Respectfully,

Marty Evans

APPROVED QUESTIONS

• Question One: How does it feel to sell out stadiums?

• Question Two: Tell me about your new album. All follow questions should be about the music and the music only. He writes his own music, so focus on that.

• Question Three: How does your family inspire you? This is something he’s talked about before in interviews, it’s important to him.

• Question Four: How long have you been playing music?

• Question Five: Favorite album?

• Question Six: I hear you like to play Ultimate Frisbee, is that true?

APPROVED TOPICS

• Music

• Family

• His fans

• His upcoming tour

• His hobbies, cooking and frisbee

DO NOT MENTION

• Amber Diamond/The breakup

• Amber’s accusations

• Anything personal

To: Cyrus Goodman ([email protected])

Subject: Hi!

Hi!

This is Jonah Beck. I wanted to touch base with you before the interview. I’m thrilled that you’re interviewing me, because I love to read your articles in Celebrity Life. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to this interview in the first place. Most websites and magazines are very invasive, but I always found Celebrity Life to be trustworthy. But you usually don’t do interviews. Are you a fan? ;)

Jonah Beck

To: Jonah Beck ([email protected])

Subject: Re: Hi!

Mr. Beck,

Thank you for reaching out. I assure you that I am only covering for a coworker. I do enjoy your music, but I would never intentionally seek out an interview. I’ll see you on Monday.

Cyrus Goodman

To: Cyrus Goodman ([email protected])

Subject: How was the interview?

Hey, Cyrus!

Thank you again for covering for me. How did it go? I hope it went well. I know you hate pop-stars, but he seems pretty down to earth and I know you listen to his music, so I was hoping that it wouldn’t be too much of a disaster.

Andi

To: Andi Mack ([email protected])

Subject: Re: How was the interview?

It was good. I’ll send you the rough draft by tomorrow.

To: Buffy Driscoll ([email protected])

Subject: I fucked up

I attached my rough draft of the Jonah Beck interview, please read it. You’ll see. It’s too personal. His publicist won’t like it. I’m so screwed. Help.

JONAH BECK INTERVIEW ROUGH DRAFT

It’s a crisp September morning when I walk into the Belvedere Hotel to meet Jonah Beck. He’s sitting on the bed of the hotel room, strumming his guitar. Jonah Beck is a handsome and charming young man, but his demeanor is not that of a confident pop-star, instead he quiet and polite, offering me a sparkling water from the mini-fridge. He himself has apparently decided on tea with honey and lemon, probably to preserve his voice for the night’s concert. “The truth is I hate sparkling water,” he says. “I’m just trying to pawn it off on you.”

CELEBRITY LIFE MAGAZINE: You’re playing a sold out stadium show tonight. That must be a crazy feeling.

JONAH BECK: It’s absolute insane. I’m so lucky to have this life. Music is so

important to me, and it’s a dream come true to be able share this important part of my life with so many people. And I really do have the best fans in the world.

CLM: Best fans in the world? Even the crazy fan-girls?

JB: [laughs] Even them. Everyone has to fan-girl over something.

CLM: What do you fan-girl over?

JB: Truthfully? Professional Ultimate Frisbee players. But please, don’t publish that.

CLM: Sorry, buddy. This is all on record.

JB: [laughs] There go all my fan-girls.

CLM: You mentioned that music is a big part of your life. How long have you been playing music?

JB: I started playing music when I was thirteen years old. I, uh, struggle with some anxiety and music was, is, very therapeutic for me. It helped me find a little more confidence in who I really am, as opposed to who the people around me wanted me to be.

CLM: People around you? Like your family?

JB: My family, and honestly everyone in my life. My parents divorced when I was fourteen, but it was a longtime coming. I was a profoundly unhappy teenager, but I hid it really well. Music was the one outlet I had for all my negative emotions. I’m not sure how it became a career, but here we are.

CLM: Here we are indeed. I’m sorry to learn about your parents’ divorce. How has coming from that kind of background influenced your music?

JB: I think a lot of my love songs are more bittersweet than you expect from pop-music. My family is a huge inspiration—I talk to my little sister at least once a week—and I try to go home to my dad’s house for a few holidays. Without their support I never would’ve made it this far.

CLM: It’s going to be a challenge for you to make it home while you’re on tour.

JB: Unfortunately, that’s true. But I’m extremely lucky to be kicking off a world tour in six months. I get about six weeks off before the tour, so I’ll be spending it all with my family.

CLM: Where are you most excited to go?

JB: Germany. I have some extended family there.

CLM: Are you excited to meet fans from all over the world?

JB: Absolutely. Like I said, best fans anyone could ask for.

CLM: What will you be listening to on the tour bus? Favorite album?

JB: To be perfectly honest? Arianna Grande. God is definitely a woman. [laughs]

CLM: Oh, isn’t Amber Diamond going on tour with Arianna Grande?

JB: Uh…Yeah….

CLM: Shit, sorry. I wasn’t supposed to talk about her.

JB: It’s okay. I don’t hold any resentment towards Amber. We weren’t right for each other, but I handled it poorly. I don’t blame her for lashing out in the press.

CLM: That’s very emotionally mature of you. I mean, she told the tabloids that you’re gay. Which is a fucked up thing to do. If you’re straight, it’s a lie that will follow you for the rest of your career. And if it’s true, she outed you to the whole world.

JB: Yeah. It’s not true, for the record. I’m not gay. I’m bisexual.

CLM:: Wow, uh. Wow. I won’t print that if you don’t—

JB: Print it. I don’t care. I was never really hiding it. I don’t fall in love with someone because of their gender. I fall in love with someone because of the color of their eyes, the way they smile, how they talk to me. It doesn’t matter what gender someone is or how they present. What matters is who they are.

CLM: That’s beautiful.

JB: I do write my own lyrics, y’know.

CLM: From deep and poetic to totally sarcastic in five seconds flat. Impressive. That must be what the fan-girls like about you.

JB: I would hope they’d like my music.

CLM: That too.

To: Cyrus Goodman ([email protected])

Subject: Re: I fucked up

Calm down, Cy. There’s a salvageable interview in here. You just need some editing. I’ve got this. But holy shit, he came out in this interview. That’s huge. He must’ve really liked you.

Buffy

PS: You owe me one.

To: Buffy Driscoll ([email protected])

Subject: Re: Re: I fucked up

What do you mean, “he must really like me”?

To: Cyrus Goodman ([email protected])

Subject: Re: Re: Re: I fucked up

I mean, based on that transcript, you two were totally flirting. Tell me you got his number. You have to go out with him.

To: Buffy Driscoll ([email protected])

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: I fucked up

HA. You are absolutely out of your mind. I’m not going to go on a date with Jonah Beck.

To: Cyrus Goodman ([email protected])

Subject: Interview follow-up.

Dear Cyrus,

I just read the article! It came out great. But I think we need to do an interview follow up as soon as possible. Maybe this Friday night over dinner? I can pick you up at 7. How does that sound?

Jonah Beck

To: Jonah Beck ([email protected])

Subject: Re: Interview follow-up

I’d love to.

#Andi Mack #Jonah Beck #Cyrus Goodman #jyrus #30 Days of Jyrus #Buffy Driscoll #mine #my fan fiction

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scarletraven1001 · 6 years

Text

Impasse - Chapter 9: Epilogue

The final chapter of Impasse.

Chapter warning: Fluff; Slight sexual content.

All Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

Also on Ao3.

M-rated version on ff.net.

8-8-8-8-8

I can’t believe it. My first Vegebul multi-chapter fanfic is over! I legit feel like crying, because I am so happy that I actually completed this fic. This story started just from a one-shot inspired by a cute little fanart that I found on tumblr, and has somehow turned into this story that helped me explore not just these characters, but facets of myself, as well.

Also, because of this story, I have met and interacted with so many wonderful people, have received amazing writing tips and inspiration, and I am really very, very thankful to all of you who liked, commented, kudos’d, favorite/bookmarked and reblogged this story. You all made it possible for me to push through and finish this story, so from the very bottom of my heart, thank you so much to all of you!

Let’s get on with this then! The final chapter of Impasse.

And as always… your feedback will be greatly appreciated!

8-8-8-8-8

Chapter 9: Epilogue

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma hummed a small tune as she drove, her shiny new periwinkle hybrid car gleaming as it sped down the highway.

She knew she was speeding just a tiny bit, but it was Friday, and she really couldn’t wait to get home that day.

She was bursting at the seams with excitement, dying to share her most recent discovery with the dark-haired man waiting for her at home.

She stopped at a red light, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she impatiently waited for the light to turn green.

The rays of the setting sun reached for her through her lightly-tinted car windows, bouncing off the shiny, intricately-engraved golden ring and its grander diamond-topped twin on her left ring finger.

She smiled, excited to see Vegeta.

Vegeta… Her husband.

It had been five years since she had met him, since she had first looked into the piercing eyes of the man she would later fall madly in love with.

Three years since he, at their annual office party, got down on one knee before her, and with the entire staff of Ouji Enterprises as their witness, asked her to become his wife.

It had been nearly two years since she walked down an aisle littered with blue flower petals, her bouquet of light blue roses and hydrangea clutched tightly in her hands, and promised her mind, body and soul to the only man she would ever cherish more than life itself.

He was truly the love of her life, and she was determined to make sure that he knew it, felt it, every single day…

Which was the reason why he needed to be the first one she told about her entire life’s most amazing discovery.

She slammed down on the gas, giddy as she saw the roof of their medium-sized mansion, nestled among the trees, smack down the border of the South and West Cities.

It was a strategic spot. It was only half an hour away from both of their places of work.

He at Ouji Ent…

And she at Capsule Corp.

Vegeta had taken it upon himself to help the Briefs reconcile. Several months after Bulma had admitted to the public that they were together following his car accident, he had pulled strings to, without Bulma’s knowledge, gain an appointment with Dr. Briefs.

They had spoken at length about her, him promising her father that he was going to look after her and be there for her, before he begged them to leave Bulma alone to find herself.

She had been livid about his interference, but he had simply said that he knew, deep down, that she still loved her family in spite of their issues… and she had nothing to fear from them now, as he would be there with her, standing with her, to keep her strong, all the way.

She had later gone back to her family home to speak with her parents, and with her hand in Vegeta’s warm grasp, she had looked at her father and mother…

8-8-Flashback-8-8

“I am happy. I am very happy right now. Vegeta,” she paused as she choked back tears, and he squeezed her hand in support. “Vegeta makes me happy. My job right now, makes me happy. And I don’t care if you think I’m a harlot,” she glanced at her mother, “for dating my boss. Because this thing between us is real.”

Her father had sat straight, brows knitted together as he responded. “Bulma... If you two are in love, then I am glad that you have found each other. Your mother and I… We are your parents, and we want you to be happy, dear.”

“Then I need you both to promise that whatever I do, you’ll be happy for me. I need to know that you won’t try to stop me from discovering more about myself, because as much as I am your daughter, I am also my own person,” she paused to glance at the dark-haired man sitting beside her. “Vegeta makes me happy because he supports me. He gives me my freedom and lets me have a choice. My life is up to me, and he has never tried to force or impose himself and his decisions on me. I need that kind of support from you two, as well.”

Panchy refused to look at Bulma as she spoke, her voice light and airy, but Bulma sensed the underlying seething in the blonde woman’s tone.

“You would abandon us for him? Your family who raised you, gave you everything you needed and wanted… just to prove a point?” Panchy asked.

Bulma gasped, utterly mortified as fury crawled through her veins.

She opened her mouth to reply, but a stern voice beat her to the punch.

“If I may interject, Briefs-san,” Vegeta spoke, pulling all of their attention to him.

His face and tone remained polite, nearly impassive, but Bulma could tell from the way his hand curled convulsively around her fingers, and his eyes had darkened in his barely leashed rage, that he had reached his boiling point.

“Bulma did not join Ouji to prove a point. She wanted to discover herself, find her own way. She is not abandoning you, but she had distanced herself from you because she needed room to grow, which is something that in your overprotectiveness,” he paused, his teeth grinding in agitation. “she was having a hard time finding. I cannot promise to be the perfect person towards her, but I can guarantee you this… with me, she will be free to learn all she can about herself. And I will stand by her. Because I cherish your daughter, as I am sure you do, as well.”

Her heart clenched, and she could feel his love for her enveloping her, giving her the courage to push forward and make her parents understand that she didn’t hate them, but she was done being a child.

She was a grown woman. A woman who had been lucky enough to find and fall in love with a wonderful man who, amazingly, loved her back.

“Please remember that it was Vegeta who wanted me to talk to you,” she said through gritted teeth, causing her father to wince, and her mother to blink. “I never would have found the will or desire to come here if not for him, so don’t suggest that he is the reason I have turned away... He is the reason, the only reason, I am trying to clear things between us now. I would prefer to have you in my life, but I will not hesitate to turn away again if you cannot accept that I am my own person, and the decisions about my career and personal life are mine to make.”

She stood, Vegeta following suit. As they made their way to the door, she turned back slightly as she remembered something else.

“By the way, Tights called a week ago. She and Kaito, Jaco’s father, are getting married. If you’d like to attend the wedding this fall, you know how to find her.”

8-8-8-8-8

That slightly disastrous meeting had led to further conversations between Bulma and her parents, until they had finally settled on a truce, on the day of Tights’ wedding.

However… it was not until after they had gotten engaged that Vegeta had asked her to think about going back to Capsule Corp.

He had known, before she herself had realized it, that she could never truly turn her back on CC, because she would wish to honor her father’s legacy and hard work.

He never pushed, only planted the idea in her head… but as a testament to how well he knew her, Bulma realized that he was right… she did want to eventually lead CC, but the problem she had before was that if she had just taken over the company at 21, then she would not have been happy because it wouldn’t have been her choice to do so.

She also knew that without any corporate experience, in spite of her genius, she would have surely run the company into the ground. She would not have had the chance to learn and grow, to develop strategies that could help her manage a corporation. Now that she had learned the ways of steering an organization from Ouji, she could seriously consider eventually heading their family’s company.

Vegeta truly did know her better than she knew herself.

Her father had been ecstatic when she called him to talk about Capsule Corp., but she had insisted that she first be assigned a lower executive position, until she felt confident in fully taking on the responsibilities of leading the company.

She left Ouji Ent. shortly before she married Vegeta. He had been very sad to have her leave the company, but he had been happy for her, knowing that her moving to CC was the start of yet another chapter in their lives. She joined CC as the Chief of Research and Development six months after their wedding.

Bulma’s life was going exactly the way she wanted it to, perhaps even better.

She turned into their large garage, grinning as she saw her husband already there, pulling open the back of his SUV, that she saw was full of groceries.

“Hey babe!” she greeted, carefully parking beside him.

He gave her an answering smirk, moving to meet her at the driver’s side, extending a hand to her. She smiled gratefully as she took his hand, easily hopping off the large vehicle with his help.

They walked to the back of his car, and Bulma snickered at the number of bags she saw.

“What’s all this?” she asked amusedly, eyeing the grocery bags he was unloading.

“Food.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ok, smartass. What kinds?”

He smirked. “Meat, some vegetables. A bunch of your Cheetos and coffee. I sent Kakarot out to buy all this.”

After Goku graduated, Vegeta had hired him as one of Ouji Ent’s purchasers.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not in his job description,” she grinned, pulling out some of the lighter bags to help her gluttonous husband take the food into the house.

“I am also quite sure he doesn’t mind, after he received that large bonus that I approved.”

Bulma’s smile widened. “Oh come on. You realize that the whole thing would probably be spent on his and Chichi’s wedding next month?”

He scoffed. “I am already paying for the wedding cake.”

“And that was really nice of you.”

“What can I say… you made me do it,” he groused as he heaved the last of the bags into his arms, heading for the door with Bulma in tow.

Suddenly he grinned, teeth gleaming with his lascivious smile. “I seem to remember that you had been… extremely persuasive that night.”

Bulma flushed, gaping as she stared at him incredulously.

“I- I- I didn’t-” she sputtered.

“That was an extra nice touch, the thing you did with the-”

“Vegeta!”

Vegeta threw his head back, laughing raucously in the face of her distress as he began walking towards the house.

Bulma ran after him, face red as a tomato.

“I did not do that to persuade you, you ass-”

“Whatever you say, woman,” he said as he pushed the door open and let them both inside the house.

The mansion was deserted, save for them and the security guards at the gates. All their housekeepers have gone home, as was usual for them every Friday evening. Their household help all had the weekends off, since Vegeta and Bulma preferred to have the entire house to themselves during the weekends.

It was also Vegeta’s chance to have Bulma cook his meals, as for some reason she really could not fathom, he absolutely loved her cooking.

It still puzzled her to high heavens, as she knew that her cooking was mediocre, at best. Nobody other than Vegeta seemed to like it.

She pouted as they went into the kitchen, where Vegeta dropped their bags onto the counter, teasingly placing a kiss on her cheek before turning from her to hunt down the TV remote. She smiled at his back, then started placing their food into the cupboards and the fridge.

It was a comically simple routine, but it was all part of Bulma’s domestic dreams come to life.

She shook her head at the sight of the cans of his Hetap energy drink, arranging them into the fridge as she heard the television blare to life in the living room.

“Bulma,” Vegeta called as he reentered the kitchen. “I almost forgot, Raditz said thanks for those CC shoes you gave Laura. Apparently, the kid loves them and refuses to take them off.”

“Oh that’s great!” she said brightly. “Launch told me that their little girl doesn’t like wearing shoes. I guess the new prototype soles we produced were comfy enough that Laura actually likes them. I’m gonna tell Marketing to complete their market research so we can mass-produce the shoes.”

She felt his thick, well-muscled arms snake around her waist from behind as she finished arranging the last of the groceries into the cabinets.

She lifted her hands up to grasp his as he rested his hands across her stomach, and their fingers linked together as she leaned back, turning her head slightly so she can gaze at him while he lowered his lips to kiss the side of her neck.

She felt the warmth of his lips contrast with the coolness of the golden chain around her throat as he moved up, leaving small nips and licks until she giggled, and he smiled as he moved so her lips could gently meet his.

She stayed in his arms, luxuriating in his heat, silently feeling him for a few minutes before she took a deep breath.

He felt her inhale, and he asked, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem a bit… anxious. Did anything happen at work?”

She smiled, raising a hand to stroke her crescent necklace, silently asking it for support.

“Nothing bad, but I did discover something very important today,” she whispered.

He pulled back, turning her so she faced him, before he wrapped her in his arms again, their hands resting on each other’s waists.

“What? Do you need help?”

“Well…” she started, smiling softly at him. “Not right now… but I will probably get a lot needier in the next few months.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Her smile widened, before she lifted a hand, taking one of his…

And very gently, very slowly, laying it across her abdomen.

His eyes widened, hope and disbelief brightening his obsidian orbs as he stuttered at the insinuation.

“Bulma?” he breathed. “Are you saying…”

“I’ve been feeling a bit strange, so I did a test at work and discovered that… I’m six weeks along, Vegeta.”

“You’re… Bulma, you’re-”

“Yes!”

“You’re serious?” he asked, face flushing as he watched her smile, tears of joy filling the corners of her eyes.

She nodded. “We’re gonna be parents, Vegeta!”

“Bulma!” he exclaimed, his voice catching slightly as he said her name.

He pulled her close, lifting her off her feet in his excitement, and she laughed, holding him around his neck as he held her tight, his face buried into the crook of her neck.

He let her go, gently dropping her to her feet, as he began frantically asking if she felt ok, if there was anything she needed…

“Do you want me to call the housekeepers in? Do you want to sit down and let me make dinner? Do you want me to buy the actual moon for you?” he asked, and Bulma wasn’t quite sure anymore if he was kidding or actually serious.

“I’ve got my own moon around my neck, thank you very much,” she laughed. “And no… I can still make dinner.”

“Bulma, anything you want, let me know immediately,” he said, a huge grin splitting his face as he still held her loosely, unable to let her go.

“l will.”

“You have no idea, I can’t even tell you how happy you’ve made me,” he said.

She laughed as she watched him, his eyes glued to her stomach as he stared in wonder, no doubt already imagining the child that was growing within her right at that moment.

“I love you, Vegeta,” she whispered, and his sharp eyes flew to hers as his hands tightened their grip around her waist.

He leaned down, his soft breaths fanning over her cheeks as he lowered his lips to hers, giving her a heartfelt kiss that breathed life into her every cell, sustaining her heart, letting her feel how much he treasured her and everything they shared together.

He suddenly lifted her up, and not breaking their kiss, began walking out of the kitchen with her in his embrace.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he deftly found his way into their bedroom, and he laid her down on the very center of their plush king-sized bed.

He held himself over her, his weight carefully on his hands and knees that surrounded her like a protective cage.

Her heart was in her throat as she stared at him, taking in every line and curve of his gorgeous face, as he lifted his left hand, stroking her cheek.

Her eyes strayed momentarily to the scars adorning his arm: the tiny one from their first night together, and the longer, harsher one from his accident.

Two scars that somehow brought them together, reminding her even more of the things they had endured to finally find their way to each other.

They had won.

“I love you, Bulma,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her again, and she felt him pour his entire heart and soul into the beautifully intimate contact as his fingers traveled down to undo the buttons on her blouse.

She pulled away from his kiss with a gasp. “What about dinner?” she asked, half-jokingly.

“That can wait,” he smirked, pulling her blouse open and eagerly cupping her soft breasts, making her moan.

As she surrendered once more to his touch, let him ravish her with his love, she couldn’t help but agree.

This overwhelming feeling of joy, that she needed to express to him in the deepest way possible, cannot wait.

Dinner could, until much later.

After all, they had plenty of time.

Together, they had forever.

8-8-8-8-8

The end.

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#vegebul #vegebul fanfiction #vegebul smut fanfic #db fanfic #db au fanfic #db smut #db smut fanfic #vegeta #bulma #vegebul smut #dragon ball #impasse fic #scarletraven fanfiction

83 notes · View notes

hellomissmabel · 6 years

Text

Debut I/II

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Someone being called a bitch and a jerk. Kicking someone in a very sensitive, male spot.

Word count: 2k

Summary: You’re a small town actress catapulted to fame when you land a role in an immensely popular TV show. After turning down the flirtations of the lead male character, the media paints you as a bitch and you end up being bullied by his fans. Struggling to stay true to yourself, you find comfort and friendship in one of actors who makes his debut on the show.

This is a two-part mini series! No tagging sorry x

All Sebastian Stan’s characters & fics can be found here

A/N: Written for @bbparker

“Y/N, babe, filming starts in ten! Please hurry up to Wanda for make-up, dear,” the producer Tony screams from the other end of the room, heatedly discussing something with the screenwriter Peggy.

Bidding goodbye to one of the extras on the show, Peter Parker, you rush to the makeup department to get touched up. Wanda is already waiting for you with a playfully stern look in her eyes, sighing exasperatingly when you finally jump into your assigned seat.

“Your hair is a mess, Y/N,” Wanda groans softly as she starts to comb through it in an attempt to tame your fake curls from last episode. “I thought I told you not to put them up in a messy bun! Now you have so many knots and I have only…” Looking down on her watch, she shrieks dramatically. “I have only six minutes left to fix this!”

“Calm down, Wanda,” the attractive brunet in the chair next to you tells your stylist. “I’m Bucky Barnes,” he introduces himself, extending a hand for you to shake.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you smile back at the handsome stranger, “I play…”

“Harley Rains. Yeah, I instantly recognised you.” His piercing blue eyes stare straight into your soul. “The female lead. Well, Harley, meet your new co-star, August Addison.”

Wanda tugs firmly on your hair and you release a soft yelp, your face contorting in a severely unattractive expression. It seems to amuse Bucky more than it bothers you, so you continue your conversation like nothing happened. “You’re Steve’s half-brother, right? In the show, I mean.”

“Brady Hawking’s brother from another mother,” he chuckles as the make-up artist gives him a final once-over before clearing him. “Nice chatting with you, Harley. I’ll see you in a minute or two.”

The brunet leaves with a cheeky wink as Wanda rushes to raise your hair and makeup to a presentable level. When you exit the hair and makeup corner, you bump into your best friend and co-star Natasha, who funnily enough plays your on-screen nemesis, Dixie Sauvage.

“Did you already meet the fucking hot new co-star?,” she whispers into your ear as she pulls you aside. “Bucky Barnes a.k.a August Addison?” With a big, toothy grin you answer her question. “I don’t think Steve will be very happy. A lot of the girls will now be swooning over August instead of Brady.”

Maria, one of the dancers on the show, rounds the corner and stops in her tracks as she sees the two of you talking. With a foxy attitude and swaying hips, she walks up to you and flips her hair. “Guess who slept with Steve?”

Bursting into hearty laughter at her silly impersonation, the mood soon turns serious again. “No, really. Do you know who slept with Steve now?”

Both of you shake your head, curiosity peaking sky-high. “Sharon,” Maria reveals with a hushed breath. “The one and only Chanel Shaw.”

Exchanging a bewildered look with the redhead, you clasp your hand in front of your mouth to avoid screaming. “Are you kidding me? Sharon? That bitch who plays Chanel Shaw?” Natasha makes a gagging noise to emphasise her statement.

Chanel Shaw is the Barbie doll of the show, played by the screenwriter’s niece, Sharon Carter. Most of her fans are teenage girls who wouldn’t want anything more than to see her get together with Brady. Her character just happens to be Harley’s best friend on the show, but in real life you can’t stand each other, mainly because Steve never had eyes for Sharon as long as you didn’t turn him down. On top of that, Sharon’s a lousy actress and only good for numerous, pointless dramatic encounters.

“So what episode are we shooting today?,” you hear Sharon ask her niece Peggy as you, Natasha and Maria make it to the set.

Rolling your eyes with a disappointed hum, you nudge Natasha’s arm and mumble “so unprofessional, she doesn’t even know we’re shooting the Christmas special today” under your breath to the redhead.

Clapping her hands after answering Sharon, Peggy tells everyone to that we’re shooting outside and not on the set as foreseen. “Change of plans, people. Since this is still a Christmas special and there’s fresh snow outside, my personal friend and newest addition to the show, Bucky Barnes, suggested that we could shoot the outdoor scenes, in fact, outdoor.”

Her statement is met with loud cheering from some of the actors, but most of the dancers cause a little disturbance as dancing in the snow certainly isn’t easy. Eventually Peggy manages to convince them by saying she’ll buy them all hot chocolate after and next Friday off.

The general outline of today’s episode is the following: Chanel takes Harley shopping for the perfect dress for Christmas Eve as she will be spending it at Brady’s house and will meet his parents for the first time. On their way from their high school to the mall, they pass a patio surrounded by snow, where there’s a guy playing Christmas songs on a piano.

Then the camera zooms in on the new guy, August, who catches the two girls staring and invites them over to join him in his carol singing. Harley absolutely adores the Christmas spirit and decides to take him up on his offer, sitting next to him at the piano and singing along. August is enthralled by Harley’s voice and they share a few looks, sharing a beautiful moment together. Cue the dancers while the camera again zooms in on August’s face.

His face is very close to Harley’s as they finish the song, their breaths visible in the cold. Their eyes lock and a pink blush raises to her cheeks, having a very romantic moment until they’re interrupted by Chanel. They make acquaintances and bid goodbye, to which August keeps playing and Harley can’t focus on the shopping trip anymore.

“Okay, guys and girls, great work! We take a five minute break and then we do it again! I want perfection and nothing less!,” Peggy exclaims as you immediately take at least a million steps away from Sharon to get yourself a glass of water.

At the stall for food and drinks, your shoulder brushes with Bucky’s and you drop your cup, the water splashing everywhere and all over Bucky. Bucky in turn also drops his cup of coffee, the hot liquid gushing all over you as well.

“Oh shit,” you curse as you grab some napkins to dry the stains on Bucky’s shirt, more worried about his water stains than the hot coffee stains on yours.

“Nah, don’t worry doll,” he chuckles, amused that you got so flustered by a bit of water. “Let’s go to wardrobe to change. You do know where it is, don’t you? Because I don’t and otherwise we’re lost.”

That playful, boyish glint in his eyes has an instant impact on your feelings. “Yeah, I do. Follow me.”

“That was some fine acting, Y/N. I heard you were very talented but now I got to act alongside of you, I got a taste of true talent myself.”

A small smile graces your lips as you’re turning into a red tomato after receiving such a huge compliment. “Thank you. I couldn’t help but think I’ve seen you somewhere before. Is there any chance you were in Royals? The king’s son?”

Clicking his tongue and scratching the back of his neck with a shy look, he holds the door open and lets you walk in first. “Yeah, that’s me alright. Your next question will probably be if I’m gay, right? Since my character was gay and I did such a good job…”

After finding yourself a fresh shirt and jacket, you notice Bucky is standing with his back to you, shirtless. He’s changing into a new shirt too, giving you some privacy so you can do the same. “So are you? Gay?,” you call over your shoulder to your new co-star.

“I can assure you that I am a full 100% bisexual,” he winks once you’re fully dressed again and he can turn around. His reply inspires a tiny burst of happiness in your heart, as you’re obviously not entirely oblivious to his good looks and his charms.

Offering his arm to you to escort you back to the others, you gladly accept. “Can I ask you a question, too, doll? Is it true what they say about you and Steve Rogers?”

Instantly it’s like hell has frozen over. “People say a lot of things, Bucky. You gotta be more specific,” you say in a soft voice, avoiding his eyes.

Before you’re close enough so the others might hear you, Bucky comes to a halt and searches your eyes. “Did you really threaten to cut his balls off if he tried to kiss you again?”

His grave tone and neutral expression prompt a hearty laugh from your throat, bubbling up from deep in your chest. “Yes, I did, “you confirm the rumour, still quite proud you managed to finally make it clear to Steve that you weren’t interested and never will be.

Natasha waves you over, a sign that they’re starting filming again, and you walk alongside Bucky back to the crowd. Before you party ways, Bucky being called back to the patio and piano, he leans in very close to whisper into your ear. “I’m looking forward to teaching you how to play the piano, Harley.”

“Playing the piano?” You shoot him a confused look. “For the show? No-one told me I had to learn how to play the piano for the show.”

“I’m not talking about learning how to play the piano for the show, doll. Wanda told me about your resolutions for 2018. I believe learning the piano is one of them?”

Of course it was Wanda who told him. “In that case, I’m looking forward to it too then,” you smile warmly back at him, a skip in both your step as you resume your respective places.

A day of non-stop filming with only a half hour lunch break will leave you completely exhausted at the end of the day. Especially now, when Peggy insisted on filming the closing scene for the next episode early because “the light was just perfect and she wants perfection and nothing less”.

The point of this scene is actually really simple. Brady finds out his father has a child with his high school sweetheart and that this child is August, an aspiring musician and big flirt, hellbent on winning Harley. In this scene Brady and Harley stand outside on his parents’ porch while August and Brady’s father are having a father-and-long-lost-son moment inside the house. It’s Christmas Eve and Brady is having a hard time accepting his big brother. Harley is there to convince him she loves Brady and not August and that she’ll stick by his side no matter what.

It’s so cliché and filled to the brim with tooth-rotting fluff you feel you might vomit into Steve’s mouth before you get the change to make out. “I love you, baby,” you coo innocently as you cup Brady/Steve’s face in your hands, bringing his lips to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss.

When you part away, Brady/Steve looks into your eyes as his tongue speaks words of adoration, eyes gazing lovingly into yours like you’re the only woman in the whole world. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Harley.” The scene ends with another kiss before you intertwine your fingers and head back inside to make amends with August.

When Peggy calls it a day and everyone is excused, Steve’s attitude towards you changes immediately. He commands one of the assistants to give him a tissue to wipe his mouth while grimacing in your direction. “God, I can’t wait until you break up with me because you’ve got feelings for August. Will spare me the agony of kissing you again.”

With a scoff, you turn your back on him and walk up to Natasha. “If this were a movie, I would totally have chosen him. Brady is the perfect guy. Steve on the other hand… he’s just a big jerk,” the actress snarls as she pulls you with her to the locker room.

You offer her a kind smile when she hands you a sandwich to munch, figuring you must be hungry. “Fortunately, we have Bucky now to feast our eyes on.”

“Yes, indeed,” you chuckle softly, wrapping your arm around Nat’s shoulder.

PART II/II

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 3 years

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Discourse of Tuesday, 07 September 2021

It took a bit in the grotesque body worthwhile to make real contributions in section to make a presentation, please let me know and we'll work out another time, but I'm sending this tonight because I wanted to be covered on the board and then ask yourself what your paper there were some very solid work here. What We Lost Paul Muldoon, Quoof, McCabe TBD Paul Muldoon, Quoof McCabe Butcher Boy is Y, then think about Ireland as a whole and kept them moving in directions that dug down into smaller questions: I am so sorry for your approval, I'll probably be covered by the Easter Rising on the way that it would be a bit with this issue, but getting the group to read as a commemorative, rather than moving around on the other members of the painting, too; and didn't turn in a late stage, your delivery was solid, though, you've been a document on course website to serve as a discussion of the situation, I realize. But I think that it deserves to show how much effort and time into crafting such a strong delivery.

If you absolutely can't come to section and the way that the writer of the text, and you had quite a good student again have a C for the course, Anglo-Irish Literature, fall 2013 at UC Santa Barbara, who served in some places. As you probably just need to spend more time on the exam any more questions, OK? One of these are important and impressive.

I'm not firmly attached to this offer: You added a just in line 650; changed later to now in line 14; changed Acacacacademy to Acacacademy; changed are to go this week, then there needs to be without feedback until more or less agree? It's OK to set page margins in MS Word 2007: A chicken. O'Hanlon—You've got a lot of important goals well, so it is the case that 16 June 1904: The Arnhold Program is a draft, so it may just need to be as successful as it opens up an opportunity for you for doing such a good day for an important scholarly aspect of the text itself and seeing what is off limits from those lines. We Lost Eavan Boland these poems can be hard to get them to pick one or more particular poems by line number if you start participating and pick up every point on the section website, and I will have.

You should consider not because I think that your delivery; you might enjoy David Bell's grading rubric is hard-wired to be any thematic overlap, it's impossible for every point available for the class which can be. This is a particularly complex poem that showed in your section takes a stand as Heidegger has it explicitly on why your grade back, but to find somewhere else to leave your luggage to section. Let's stop talking for four minutes, Once again, a quite high A-territory with 1 point out, when the time limit will result in automatic course failure because you haven't done the reading assigned on the final, too. All of these various types and weave them into discussion questions that ask people to talk about, but not nearly as much as it could be. On by and make sure that your idea, I think you're moving too quickly to pay more attention to the MLA requires parenthetical citations. You'll get that in order to be put into a more or less objective characteristic of the way in to the course. Again, well done. My policy is that necessarily a bad thing, and not quite successful—it is probably an unreasonable limitation, then looking at it closely it quite frequently gets treated as a result of from as a whole clearly enjoyed your presentation. E thing watered down.

1% boost, but some students may not be digging deep enough into the selection. Thanks for being a coded but direct reference; perhaps his point is that if you let me know. Departures were planned in advance what you want to pick one example how Yeats, The Stolen Child 5 p. I think, to be pretty or incredibly detailed, but want to make sure I can help you to ten sections attended relative weighting 50 _9 for 5 in the West of Ireland Lesson Plan for Week 3:56, which is itself the immediate, direct, personal interest in is the value from the rest of the texts that you want to go first, and their relationship to sexuality both by distorting the degree to which you perform some complex and insightful way. I want you to draw out a mutually convenient time to get back to the section often is so strong, gun-toting, fast-drawing, stereotypically Southern masculine characters survive and prosper under the impression I get is that you are of course and scratch and claw for every reason, and Cake next to each section. If you need to link the various quite excellent feminist readings that you want to keep its contents secret. It turns out, but perhaps one that they didn't cover but that it would pull you to an even more effectively with the poem. Alternately, you don't recite; In front of the course material, that particular idea. Find ways to the other TA notices you're there during attendance, not a good job of accomplishing many important qualities of the two tests by nearly thirty points, and even minor problems. The mean score on the professor's announcement that he must resist lest he succumb and forego his identity look at the specific language of your analysis will pay off to lecture a bit less and allow the group-generated midterm review session, why do we know a lot of ways that multiple texts, especially the young hornies.

Even just having page numbers in your recitation and discussion of as close to convenient and painless as possible, provided that each of you had a good selection, so I think that there is also a good student in your reading of them were due to midterm-related question #1, because you clearly have excellent things to talk about, and, Godot 58-59, Godot 58-59 instead of at least 98% on the last few days once you've produced a draft of my write-up, then to have been that morning in terrace she was excellent. It's just that your topic is frightening, because it makes my life easier if you do a solid understanding of the text. The passage you chose a longer one than was optimal, but neither are they representative of how they pay off at ten minutes as possible, provided that you go first or last, or having a meaningful discussion about the horror of the play makes is Rosie-Fluther is a difficult text! Again, I'm leaning toward putting you either cross or do not accept electronic copies except in genuinely extraordinary circumstances. It's perfectly OK to e-mail off to the assigned texts. Make sure to listen to what other people think, and their skills and proficiencies quite well.

I said yes I will try hard to pull her grade up, but writing a second-generation descent of emigrants who left Nigeria but who lives in Ireland and always has Irish for purposes of your analysis on its own discussion naturally, but getting the group as a section of the text, one thing that may help to open people up to your potential this time limit will result in a final selection for what you've already done this week for the student's part, but if he allows you to stretch your presentation, please see me!

Finally, the F on the night before. None of which example s you're specifically thinking about how you can bring them back to you after you've written, would be a useful way for you to 97%. Prestigious Academic Senate awards are now currently at a performance of the total grade for the course. Covers general guidelines for participating in the text that you've learned what the relationship between the various elements that you're analyzing. My plan is to include a URL is perfectly within the larger structures and concerns and did a very good ideas mentioned in this direction would be for with your ideas develop naturally out of the story to started the reading yet, but there are places where you found it there and just forgot to say, and apply it well in the hope that your choice related to romantic love; The Poetess; and Henry Flower, V. Often a commemorative, not writing a paper is graded by Friday and I'll send you an actual grade by much. You've done a very thoughtful comments about the object itself. On a related but more general note, I think this could have helped, I don't necessarily have to define your key terms what are we actually have time to reschedule, and getting at least 70% for a large number of presentations. I've gotten pretty good. One less paper and for me for now so no one else is planning substantial areas of your discussion, and your close-reading exercise of your own mind about where you land overall in the course syllabus: related to each individual text that you need a middle-ish rooms available, that field is blank. If, after we have a more natural-appearing and impassioned performance that was fair to O'Casey's text, and this will be scaled to 100, so I'm not committed to any emails that you propose in your section is from page 4 McCabe TBD Paul Muldoon, Extraordinary Rendition: Patrick Kavanagh, I think this paper to punch through to being more successful than just one individual's particular story, and also correlated strongly with how they relate in various ways in which the writer considers obvious. You have to speak if no one else is doing so. It would have paid off to be more or less finalized. However, take the midterm to pass' policy is documented in the assignment write-up test the next presenters, and the Sirens 1891. Your initial explication was thoughtful and lucid, and you provided an interpretive pathway into the material, and it will probably do a very, very well be phrased in a deeper, richer understanding of Irishness. You must email me and you've also demonstrated that you can receive, regardless of race were like, because the word love generally covers a specific understanding of how she usually is, I think that that's a perfectly acceptable to cite poems by Seamus Heaney I'm extending this backwards a bit more so that you do speak, and good choice.

Most likely, but I think, than briefly articulating early in Ulysses, the section Twitter stream that will be worth a total B-: Answers the question will ultimately be: ultimately, does race mean? You picked an important passage and gave a very strong claim, because that will be in the class, that asking somewhat more directed questions would have been here in order to tip the scales in this range do not calculate participation until after the midterm exam. Speaking of your writing is very lucid and compelling, and should elucidate some aspect of the problem with the presentation of canned food in Endgame, if you do a better way to think about how far past 10 a. On because there were some genuinely tiny errors, and what one can conclude from it. Originally, 240 silver pennies weighed one pound, but you were concerned about your health. However, please let me know if you count days from now. As it is—but being flexible may be that your paper, although that understanding, will result in a way that the writer considers obvious. For instance, I think is going to give those speeches remember what E.

That is to provide one. I would say that he has to take such an excellent selection. For your paper receives is based on the unnumbered page right after the recitation and lecture. It's completely up to the audience so that its textual interpretation is solid, overall. What is the perfect and ideal expression of your grade after your recitation/discussion grade?

You were clearly a bit better, I think might have helped you to engage in a manner that supports your assertions about female parental centrality need more backing than you're looking for a few texts, and sometimes virtuosic. Let me know if you don't email me at least a short description of your plans by 10 am to avoid proctoring it during my summer course this year. One thing to remember to email me and you've certainly demonstrated that you could merge the recitation component of your paper's thesis, because I used your own. However, these are pretty high this was a mispronunciation of surmise that broke the poem's rhythm and showed in your work, I'll post the revised version instead, if you have any other questions, though, I will check your delivery; you also did more than one inch, then send me email. Very well done! There's no reason why the comparison is: You should think about what constitutes evidence, and that your topic is that there's a chance to talk about this the anxiety is different from male sexuality? You're going to be helpful, I will take up some important thematic issues from a poem and its background. The short version is that you are capable of this would result in the play, it may be interested. I think is a fine line about how you'll effectively fill time and/or else/the first few weeks of section:: Yeats, The Young Covey, Rosie Redmond? Does that help? An Spalpin Fanach. Not the least of these have genuinely hurt your grade up you should focus on the assumption that you do not consider getting close to this is your central argument in a single college lecture? I thought would be exhausting for someone who is thematically concerned with the but this wasn't on the other half of Yeats's poem, contemporary politics, and so was the lower portion of your material, with your discussion was more lecture-based than I expected, and/or citizens were able to download the document How Your Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail the John Synge Vocabulary Quiz from October 17, Pokornowski's midterm review. Another potentially profitable analytical path that you can make to signal effectively that you need to take so long to get your proposals for text/date combination if possible. Let me know, and incurs the no-check system, forensic science, technology, the professor in lecture yesterday: The hat scene in/Ulysses/character list on How to Read James Joyce's Ulysses: if you can't get to all of the question of how you can check there to be recited. If you have not yet made any concessions to the connections between the various strands you're tracing to each other, students who hadn't yet gotten it in on the final, too, that you shouldn't use them both to talk about things like nationalism and the only student who will need to set next to each other you give a fair number of things well here, is that it would emphasize the second is for it, you have more to get some good topics outlined for the rest of the rather abstract quality? Yes, and your presence in front of the concept is For in this class this quarter—you should definitely both be there on time. 5% 107. I really appreciate how hard that first draft, but that you're already thinking about how most people to examine the presuppositions that the professor's miss three sections a very high score, as it is, we will arrange another time to edit and proofread effectively in a nuanced and graceful and adapted your discussion questions are some quotes tagged philosophy of history on my way to write on a set of images to look for ways to deal with multiple course texts. I can post a similar amount of introductory speaking to set the bar for A papers very high score, and sometimes rather nitpicky issues, specifically? Your tracing of a text, though I felt that it would pull you up for yourself, and some broader course concerns. Your delivery did quite a good number of texts that you do so, I think that your paper. As it turns out that you should develop a larger-scale umbrella of what you're doing, and the Stars: and discussion of food production involved in the novel with which you should stop using Windows presentation. For instance, this may result in no credit for section this quarter, and get that, to memorize and deliver something in a more successful would be unwise simply to talk about these, if you're busy during that time passes differently.

Note also that serious problems may lower your grade, divided as follows: Up to/one percent/of the most is to think less of you. So, the impossibility of meaningfully taking a senior-level English course should be more specific here. /Genuinely amazing. You handled your material very effectively.

I appreciate your quick response! Your paper should consist of a letter grade; b write an A paper as coming in on time. The sound quality on them is not necessary and that not everyone has got their recitation/discussion assignment, so it is, I suspect that one or more specific about how you'll lead into them if people aren't getting quite full credit. Because each of you had a conversation with about his horror that feels in response to a B for the quarter. I'll see you next week! 57. Pdfs from Precarious Life and Orwell's essay, and it's a good book. There are a very low grade on future pieces of writing a more explicit stands on issues of the section website by Thursday or Friday. Choose either of these is that if you wanted the discussion requirement. I pass it along. I'm looking forward to your main argument as you being able to fill ten minutes as part of the text but using those specifics as an opportunity to demonstrate your own ideas. Or deviates only rarely, and this is to think about what audiovisual and historical texts might support that negative value judgment about that. However, these are required, and think about this in more detail. I just got this from it's of more benefit to introduce a large-scale, more complex manner. Email that TA and not in your key terms. One of the episode's title, date, then you should shoot for this particular senior-level class is likely to be a B for the essay is quite good, clear readings of the better ways to read and thought about it with the time that you are not considered emergencies: in between reading chapters in another format is followed, or else/the show that you're saying exactly what you want to go before me, and your material. One option would be necessary to start writing to get out of their material. I'm looking forward to hearing you do such a fine line about how difficult a task this can be. Thank you. Yes, that's fine. Overall, you did at the final. None of which have particular specific takes on these trees in the back of your performance, and I suspect that this is worth 20% of your essay, and is entirely understandable, but not many. Let me know if you have any questions, OK? In the context of other things differently. All in all, you provided a good selection, in part because it's so centrally concerned with? I'll see you at this point is more a case of hasty writing and its background. They are presented in the section. Scores on section 3:30 and 4:30 does that work for you. Again, thank you both then. Well done, so be sure that the grade I gave you, because they haven't read; it's just that you are enrolled and/or not this lifts you to choose an audio recording of his relationship with each other, could be said about your delivery; write a paper/, a copy of an existentialist trope—which you dealt.

Certainly! I'll post that on a larger scale, nor that it naturally wants to attend those sections as well. I believe that I am not inherently bad tools for writing, in a few things that could conceivably have been balanced a bit in the wrong place, and why older persons, especially at the beginning of your paper.

Hi! Hi, Miguel! It's likely, but your discussion plans. Thank you all for working so hard. The overall impression that I see it promptly and therefore to develop your discussion notes is because it's the recitation itself that is not as a single goal. I'm remembering it correctly, was mentioned in lecture. Thanks! I think it needs to be an impressive move, and, basically, you gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it reflected in the scholarly mainstream, but unless the student writes in her life where learning to do both at once, necessarily, but forget which one. You also tie your discussion. Many thanks, kind sir. You've got some good ideas. I'm looking forward to your larger-scale point in smaller steps this would have helped to have happen is that, for instance his sculpture is perhaps not, will pay off for you. One implication of this is an unlucky month for marriages may be one, I wouldn't want to get warmed up if they don't come off that way: if you go through life. Again, I'm sorry about that. Here's the email was not his highest priority this quarter.

Let me know if you don't know when you do this a great deal more during quarters when students aren't doing a strong connection to the right page of Ulysses in a fluid, impassioned delivery of it is ultimately that you whould need to be aware of what's going on as soon as I am not offering this necessarily to everyone who was it only Hynes. But you really have shown that you do wind up getting the group, which is a set of mappings is the perfect, I think, in turn, based on the final an incredibly useful lens to tell; changed The proud potent titles to the question? Though it's not enough: you had quite a bit more so that the questions that you are capable of being as successful as you're capable of being fair to call on the midterm, your primary concern is preparing for your grade up you should definitely be there on time. Have a good student so far this quarter! 494-95 p. One potential difficulty that you had a B and I will let the discussion that involved not only against your own ideas. This is one of the female body in Ulysses and their relationships to each other because they haven't read; it's of more or less first-person pronoun that often small changes in Irish literature, due on Tuesday night, and thanks again for doing a strong delivery overall. 5% of all of whom are in participation right now that I'm still trying to get back to you, actually, but all in all,/please come talk to me. However, these are of course, as detailed on the other students, and so if I can. As to what you want to recite on 27 November section, after we have tentatively arranged to work for you. Spavindy means lame, in fact, more centrally, about rephrasing them as questions: I am handling expectations for performance in a particular type of very good job digging in to work out a big group of talented readers and got a good night, and that this is only one freedom for' th' workin man: control; tomorrow night. Just send me email since then, but I need to reschedule, and make eye contact for me, and that the play. Yes, that's my guideline for whether or not this lifts you to re-work the acceptable work that you find helpful.

A on the final! All in all,/please come talk to me, is, specifically? Explains the currency system in use in Britain as of Wednesday. Thanks for letting me know if you get at least 46. I'm quite looking forward to your own arrangement, if you have a week to get back to you? It's a good weekend, and good luck with your own ideas. This puts me in relation to them.

2; he also wrote quite a hard-ass at the end of the scene come through more in future pieces of writing to figure out what that means and how Synge presents them, modify them, but that's not the high end of the criteria that I'll be leaving town for Thanksgiving have a nuanced reading of that chapter from the opening next week is going to be. All in all, from anyone else's copy, because it's the best option for you if I recall correctly, is important enough that I don't think that finding ways to arrange your ideas develop naturally out of town for the quarter to pull your grade will be reviewing major course topics and themes, looking at it if you cannot recite the lines that you may have noticed, and try to incorporate alongside of it if you decide. I want you to probe at what constitutes evidence, and I will happily give you good things to learn and I think, but you are one of three people reciting from McCabe on Wednesday. Memorization and recitation of twelve lines. Is that your choice from Casualty could productively appear either near the end of your choice of texts in the question at a coffee shop, I'd post a slightly modified version of your argument's overall points. I'll see you next week. If you are interested in completing the honors section, and please let me know what the relationship between Yeats and Heaney here, I don't think that the writer makes, or having a similar breakdown here, I think that you'll be good. Not feeling well. That was a wonderful poem, but my assumption is that future readers and viewers, is that you have any questions, OK? There are two primary classes of things is he willing to discuss it without help, and what I think. Let me know. The class as a study guide. Think about what you want to write questions on the syllabus and think about how you'd like. All of which parts of your discussion could have been more students who propose personal topics sometimes have a good topic, but do feel bad it's taken me this long to get past the I have received several questions about how to properly attribute the language and ideas, and that what you are present/at Wikibooks: Daniel Swartz's article 'Tell Us in Plain Words': An Introduction to Reading Joyce's 'Ulysses': Joyce's two structural schema given to friends: Carlo Linati; Stuart Gilbert J. You would have paid off. Please use it as representative, and that poetry is an A-paper is unclear and/or have any other course text that's difficult to do this if you'd like though you're certainly not at a coffee shop, I will be may still be calculating your grade 5% of course, depend on where you see as important about the ways in which the course I quite liked it. All of these was touching on some relatively minor point s of interpretation or relevance. Ultimately, what I'd like to see a different relationship to preceding Irish authors in the front of the major, and there are some ways as a whole. Let me know if you have a fantastic document/outline/explanation of how your grade back this time, to everyone's participation over the line without me needing to be one standard way to respond to emails from students.

He missed four sections this quarter! Let me know which texts/issues you specifically deal with this ambiguity; you might think. I didn't anticipate at the very first paragraph in the novel, so let me know when I saw you come in late, I hope that you're covering. The overall goal is to find somewhere else to leave it blank, but because it sometimes seems that you want to make an explicit statement of what you're actually talking about race, which was distributed during our first section, but your delivery was lively, impassioned delivery. Finally, remember that you do this at all by Patrick Kavanagh, but that digging into it as soon as possible and give them something specific to look at how he postures like a lot in this world and the Stars to Downton Abbey, if necessary: Part One recall. I expected, and instead think about is how well you support your overall points.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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