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tnystrk-exe · 3 years

Text

Estocolmo

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

Warnings: Smut 18+ thigh riding, fingering, oral, daddy kink, plot to make up for my first attempt at writing smut.

Word count: 6.8k

Chapter One

“Fucking hell.” You sighed as you looked at the still tall stack of essays that needed grading. “I’m never getting through this.”

Your stomach grumbled, signaling it was time for a break. Stretching, the quiet was interrupted by the sound of your bone’s protest from sitting in one position for hours. It was nights like these you had regretted your choices. Sure you had known Professor Jacob loved to torture his students with too much work, but when you took the job as his assistant you assumed that he’d shoulder some of the weight. A ridiculous thought now that you’ve experienced working with him. Why should he even think of grading an assignment when he had a perfect little lackey doing it for him? That was a non question. He had been strict about the work not leaving his office, which meant you had accidentally fallen asleep in his office more than often than you would have liked. The pile of work never seemed to diminish.

Walking out the office, you thought briefly of the joy you would feel when you’d never have to see it again. These long corridors would be a thing of the past in just a few, short months. Then you’d probably go to the city and struggle for a while but at least you would be free from here. As much as you prided yourself for getting through the first round of college, the walls of the building gave you more of an annoyed feeling than anything.

Pushing open the door to the teachers lounge, you made a beeline for the fridge. The leftover pizza already seemed like a feast until you noticed it was nowhere to be seen. “Hannibal,” you whined to the empty room as you closed the fridge.

“Yes, darling?”

You startled, immediately turning around to face him, a mischievous smile was plastered on his lips. Usually your missing dinner meant to head over to his office. It wasn’t typical, but the two of you had managed a comfortable friendship between the shared late nights. Though, you suspected he’d stay longer than necessary to accompany you in the empty building. “Would you mind telling me where my dinner went, handsome?” You asked, raising a brow at him.

“Old pizza can hardly be considered dinner. Come,” he motioned to sit next to him at the table, “I’ve got a better meal prepared for you nonetheless.”

“Or maybe you just need to learn to appreciate the simple things,” you quipped as you took your seat.

“And you, the finer.”

You gave him an obvious look over, “I’d say I appreciate you plenty enough.”

Being so forward wasn’t usually in your cards. However Hannibal had always been a gentleman and it had been fun to tease at him a bit. He never complained, often just acknowledging what you said with a raised brow or chuckle. Still there was always some truth in jokes and you’d be lying to say that he was anything less than tempting. Especially in the dark grey suit and dried blood red shirt of his. ‘No’ wouldn’t come to mind if he ever offered.

“Naughty, Miss LN,” he chided you, “What shall we do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Eat your dinner,” he said, humor in his voice as he shook his head.

You choked back a comment about him just wanting to see your mouth stuffed, deciding it was too much of a push. Instead you just opened the lunchbox he placed in front of you. Hannibal watched you expectantly as you took a bite of the meat.

Closing your eyes, you savored the bite. It had been a while since you had something home cooked. “Han... I’m going to miss you most. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. Delicious, as always.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He went back to work on his own stack of papers as you ate. “Though, I’m not sure I’m ready to allow you to live off street food once we part.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find me another man that insists on throwing away my perfectly good food to serve me home cooked meals.”

Hannibal left some remarks on a paper before pushing it to the side. “You could always come learn a few things. Maybe I’ll rest better knowing you know how to make yourself a couple of decent meals. Any guesses for the meat?”

It was a strange guessing game, but you indulged him, he was just eccentric. “Oh, definitely human,” you teased, making sure to pick up some spinach and artichoke in the next bite, “Probably had a boring name like David.”

“Close. It was Richard,” he corrected.

“Beef, it was the Rolex of all farm animals hand picked by you and I’m very grateful you shared some with me,” you smiled at him, “So how are things going with Baltimore?”

“I’ve found a beautiful home. The office, however, seems to be harder to find.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect one.” Your phone started ringing. Grabbing it from your pocket, you looked at the screen. Mom. “They’re making this unnecessarily difficult,” you sighed to yourself.

Hannibal looked at you with peaked interest as you shut off your phone and pushed it away. “Is something troubling you?”

“My parents aren’t taking too kindly to the no contact rule. It’s the tenth call today.”

“You’ve cut them off?”

“I thought about what you had said,” you shrugged, “I’m tired of always having to get them out of troubles and be their ATM when I don’t have enough for myself. It’s just too much on me right now. Between school assignments, Jacob’s work pile, and my other part time, it’s all just suffocating. They keep trying to use my grandfather’s death as a leverage to make me feel bad about not talking to them now, but they just want some money. I don’t want to feel guilty about this but I can’t help it.”

“Don’t,” he placed his hand over yours, “You deserve to feel taken care of and appreciated. They aren’t providing you with that now. Especially now when they use the death of the person who raised you as leverage,” he shook his head, making a disgusted sound, “It’s for your own well-being that you take some time to breathe and be young. They provide too much stress…” Hannibal fell silent. “I’ve suggested this before but i-“

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I’m not taking your money. We’re friends. Money complicates things. Muddies the waters.”

“Friends help each other,” he reminded you, “I’ve already told you I wouldn’t want any payment.”

“But I’d still feel like I owe you.” You shook your head, “It wouldn’t feel right to me. I’m fine. I promise. Though, if you’re so willing to help me with something, I wouldn’t say no to those cooking lessons. They could be fun.”

He spared you a smile, “It would be my pleasure to teach you what I know.”

“And I’d never deny your pleasure,” your mouth spoke before you could think about it, “Sorry.”

“I don’t deny myself pleasure either,” he said, amused. “You’re fine. Now, how about we meet on Sunday? I’ll have time to figure out a full meal and gather all of the ingredients.”

“Great!” You ignored the heat that still lingered on your face, “I- um, do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nothing at all, I’ll make sure to take care of everything. All you need to do, sweet girl, is bring yourself and an appetite.”

You stifled a pleased smile at the term of affection. “I’ll make sure to do that,” sparing a glance to the clock, you frowned, “I should probably get back to work on those essays.”

“Why don’t we work on them together?” He suggested. “My colleague is notorious for drowning you in his work. I can help you sort through it all and you can have a restful Saturday without Micheal’s added stress.”

“I really can’t ask that of you. You already have enough work as it is.”

“We’ll work together. First your work, then mine. What happened to never denying my pleasure?”

Your eyes widened, but you laughed all the same. Maybe a while more in his company wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine. Hold me to my words, but it’s only going to cause you a headache. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. These new kids are… something else.”

“They’re nothing,” he stood, grabbing his papers in one hand, “Meet me in my office. We can be more comfortable there and I may have stowed away a bottle of wine.”

“What would I do without you Doctor Lecter?”

“You have arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice informed you as you parked.

You took in the mansion of a home. It was too big for someone that lived alone. The thought made you shiver. Homes should be filled with life, not empty space. Then again, he was a fan of dinner parties, extravagant ones at that, so you supposed there was life in those walls on occasion. The home itself reminded you of the houses in old movies. Ones where the lightning would strike at just the right moment as a warning to stay away. But this was real life and there was no lightning, just a sun setting on a near perfect day.

Without a warning telling you to keep away, you grabbed the gift bag and stepped out of your car. He had said to bring nothing, but you couldn’t resist a simple gift. The ties in the bag had taken out a decent chunk from your pocket, but he deserved them. Between agreeing to give you cooking lessons and helping you out with grading every so often, the simple pieces of fabric meant nothing. Besides, it was a two way gift, he’d get more of the patterned ties he was fond of and you’d get to see him in the darker colors you liked on him, knowing he’d feel compelled to wear them to show you his gratitude.

Knocking on the door, you waited a couple of minutes before he emerged. “YN, just in time. Please, come in,” he stepped to the side, “I’ve looked forward to this all day.”

You smiled and stepped past him. “I have too. Entertained myself a bit today by finding you a gift.”

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

Nervousness bit at you slightly, a bit self conscious they’d be too cheap for his taste. Too late to back out of it, you handed over the bag. “You’ve always been so kind and I really appreciate everything. Let me do something for you.”

He set the bag on the nearby table, laying out the ties to get a better look at them. “They’re all lovely,” he ran a finger across the fabric of a maroon one, “Fond of me in darker colors, YN?”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “We catch ourselves spending a lot of time together. Why not make you a decent piece of eye candy?”

“Inappropriate,” he chided you, before signaling you to follow after him.

“You just wear them so well, Doctor Lecter.”

Shrugging off his navy suit coat, he draped it over a chair, making quick work of rolling up his sleeves. “Ready to get your hands dirty, my little sous-chef?”

“What are we making?” You asked, looking at his kitchen wide eyed. It was definitely bigger than your measly studio apartment.

“Frisee aux lardons, duck with a pomegranate-citrus glaze. I took the liberty of preparing a blood orange sorbet for dessert.”

“I have a proposal.”

“Yes?”

“We don’t do any of that and just have dessert for dinner.”

“No,” he gave you an amused glance, “There’s more pleasure in waiting for things. Why don’t you start washing up the vegetables and I’ll start preparing the duck?”

You stuck your tongue out at his back but set to your work. “This is what I get for befriending a charming old guy.”

“Keep going the way you are and our next meal together will be langue d’Agneau en papillote.”

“That can’t be a threat if I don’t know what that means,” you quipped, setting aside an endive.

“It means, darling,” he pointed his knife at you, “The fondness I feel for you is an inconvenience. Nonetheless, it’s welcomed.”

You smiled at him brightly, as you brought the washed vegetables over to him. “I’m fond of you too, but you gotta stop flirting and teach me how we’re gonna cook Daffy here.”

He motioned for you to grab a cutting board and a knife of your own. The two of you worked in quiet harmony, occasionally he’d tell you exactly why he was doing something a certain way or just give you simple instructions and let you have a hands on feel of exactly how to prepare something. It was nice to see him in his element. Hannibal seemed much more content in his kitchen than any where you had seen him at the college. Eventually he set his work to the side and washed his hands.

“You’re cutting them too thick. Thinner is better for this dish.” He stepped behind you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.” You attempted to move to the side, but Hannibal had already caged you in between himself and the counter. His cologne was different from the one you were accustomed to him wearing, but the subtle spice of it gave a more homey feeling to him.

Hannibal grabbed your hand that had yet to let go of the knife. He made sure to show you how to cut them the right thickness. “See? A little thing can unbalance everything.”

“Hm,” you hummed, catching yourself relaxed against the man, his frame strong against yours, “I don’t see much of a difference. Pretty sure this is just your variation of a putter.”

“You assume I have hidden motives,” He acknowledged, looking down at you, “And if there were any?”

Taking the bait, you pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. “I wouldn’t be too upset.”

His head dipped into your shoulder, taking in a breath. “What happened to not wanting to bring on complications in our friendship?”

“We only have weeks left with each other,” you shrugged, “There wouldn’t be any complications. Not really.”

“We really should get back to making our dinner, darling,” he sighed, almost seeming reluctant to pull away, “What else did you did you do today?””

It took you a second to respond, still shaking off the embarrassment. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to do that. When you looked up at him you grimaced. Grabbing a napkin, you carefully wiped away the lingering lipstick. “The ties were the more interesting part of the day, I didn’t plan anything eventful. Honestly most of my day was taken with trying to recall the shop you mentioned that carried the ones you liked.”

He hummed in appreciation, “You also managed to pick out two I have had my eye on. I’ve got new suits coming in soon that will pair perfectly.”

You beamed at that, happy he did actually like what you had chosen. “Lucky guess. It was difficult remembering the ones I had seen you wear.”

Hannibal made to grab some ingredients and set them on the counter near the stove. “Have your parents tried calling you this weekend?”

You sighed, sure you didn’t have to tell him the truth but you wanted to, he had a compelling thing to him that made it easy to just speak. “I sent them money for rent. Which was honestly the dumbest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“It wasn’t idiotic,” he stated, setting to work on making the pomegranate sauce as you watched, “They’re you’re parents. It’s only natural you worry about them. Though, I do worry they’ll think of you as a person that doesn’t stick to her word.”

“I know, I really meant to, but the thought of them out on the street. It’s not my responsibility, but I’m just so used to being their adult.”

“It’s difficult to detransition. You worry for them as they should worry for you.” He checked over a pan he had been heating, “That’s perfect. If you could please..” Grabbing the plate with the duck you set them on the pan. “With duck it’s important to render off the fat. A low heat is necessary.”

You nodded, “Low and slow, got it... You know, I’m not sure they worry about me at all. I mean- I know they don’t. It should hurt, but it’s just a fact of life.”

“They didn’t give you an opportunity to be a child. When you were supposed to be in the most carefree moments of your life, they burdened you with the responsibilities of an adult.” He held out a spoon with some of the pomegranate sauce for you to taste. “Any pain the notion inflicted on you has been killed with time.”

“There are still moments though. Suppose that’s common enough, isn’t it Doc?” You leaned in, allowing him to feed you, “That tastes amazing. I really should have paid attention.”

“It’s simple, I’ll write it out for you later.” Casting the sauce aside, he set a pot of water to boil. “Very common. We aren’t too dissimilar when it comes to how quickly we had to grow up. Very different reasons, but the fall out isn’t much different. Our paths left us in places where we’re very much alone.”

“What happened?” You asked, realizing that he had known a great deal of your family and you had known nothing more past how his day had gone or his preference of coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t.” Hannibal went to fill two glasses with wine. “I was very young when my parents died. My father had implemented in me that, if anything were to happen, I was to take care of my mother and sister. Which meant I had grown fiercely protective of Mischa when the time came. Soon I was acting more as her father than a brother.”

“Where’s Mischa now?” You asked, knowing at the very least she had to be in her late twenties.

His lips set into a frown, he took a quick drink. “Lost her sometime after. There was a lapse of judgement on my part and she suffered because of it. My days have often been shrouded by the thought that I could have done better by her. The ways I failed burdens me significantly.”

You rubbed his arm sympathetically. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine that pain.”

“It’s something I never wish to experience again. Losing someone you love so dearly, it changes a person.”

“I’m sure you tried your best. You’re a good man. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that when you were so young.”

“You think too highly of me,” he patted your hand on his arm, “Far better than I deserve. Still if my childhood had taught me anything, it’s to value those I hold dear. Such as yourself.”

“I’m glad we found each other. Even if it is for a short while.” You watched as he stepped back into the rhythm of cooking. Maybe you weren’t any help to him but watching him work was comforting.

He raised a brow, “Just because the amount of time we physically see each other will diminish, doesn’t mean we need to completely break apart. I’d like to have you at my dinner table later in life.”

“I’d like it if we kept in touch,” you replied, looking at a small box on the counter. The small black beads glimmered in the light, calling at you to take a peek. A neat row of recipe cards in his impeccable penmanship, numbered as high as 120 but there could have been more. “That’s sweet,” you mused, looking at the back of a card, noticing a couple had business cards on them, “You keep track of your friends’ favorites like this?”

“Friends, acquaintances, business partners. It’s difficult remembering everyone’s preferences. When I have dinner parties I like to make sure there’s a bit of something for everyone.”

“Hm, well I’m sorry I don’t have a card for you to have.”

When everything was said and done, you helped Hannibal set up the plates to have dinner. The conversation became light as you laughed along to the better memories of Mischa. From his smile it was easy to see he adored the usually shy girl. You never pressed on to find out how she died, simply choosing to bask in his soft smiles and laughter instead of entertaining curiosity. It was easy to see he rarely talked about her and you were grateful that he found that much comfort in you.

Some time later he was sitting at his harpsichord, playing a self composed melody as you browsed his shelves. There was an almost familiar calm in the air, like this was a usual happening and it would simply just happen again. A naturally reoccurring moment. You found comfort in his presence too.

You looked up from the shelves when you heard his sigh. “I can’t seem to master this melody,” he stated, “The ending never sounds right.” The annoyed demeanor contradicted his lax look. At least lax for him. His vest and suit jacket had been discarded a while ago leaving him with a popped button, loosened tie, and rolled up sleeves. “I may just leave this one in the air.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” you said, walking over to him, “Though we can be our own worst critics. I know I’m mine.”

“It sounds… forced. Almost as if it’s reluctant to work with me.”

“Forced things just need time.” You placed your hand on his shoulders, digging in your thumbs to relieve the tension you felt. A soft groan as he let his head lull back to rest against your stomach. “Time is all you need sometimes. I thought you would have learned that already, old man.”

He opened his eyes, raising a brow at you. “Always with that mouth.”

You smiled down on him fondly, something- probably the wine in your system -thought about pressing a kiss to his forehead right then. “What can I say? It has a mind of its own.”

“I do prefer when it’s otherwise occupied,” he stated, closing his eyes again.

Your fingers dug a little deeper at that, caught off guard. “And yet.”

Hannibal played a couple soft notes, seemingly testing the waters for his next attempt at getting it to sound right. “And yet.” The first melody seemed almost innocent, but was followed by a second seemingly stalking after it. “Would you mind putting on a record? It seemed I’ve grown bored with music of my own.”

“Sure thing, Han.” Giving his shoulders one final squeeze you pulled away from him. At the record table you browsed through his selection. Hannibal was still composing as you decided to go with a record that looked more worn than the others, figuring something well loved would help him out of his frustrated state. Setting it on the platter, you gave it a brief once over with the anti static brush, knowing he’d probably be attentive to that type of thing, and dropped the needle. The music filled the air as you took in the melody. “Very you.”

He let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the harpsichord, in favor walking over to you. “Very me, indeed.” Hannibal took the record sleeve out of your hand, setting it down on the table. The music’s build up reached. “Would you give me the honor?” His hand was stretched out toward you.

You gave him a sheepish smile, “Afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’ve been told I’m a wonderful teacher,” he pressed, a charming smile on his lips, “We all start somewhere. Let me be yours.”

A soft laugh bubbled from you as you took in his look of boyish excitement. “You’re not allowed to complain when I step on your toes.” You placed your hand in his.

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you’re too terrible, I’ll show you the way I taught Mischa. You can stand on my toes as I try to help you commit the movements into muscle memory.”

“Handsome and a comedian.”

“I try my best.” Hannibal gave you a gentle spin as he pulled you closer. A kiss was pressed to your hand before he placed it on his shoulder. “Now, just follow after me,” he instructed, placing his hand on your hip.

The moment could have made you fall for the man as you danced with him throughout the room. Toothy smiles and teasing winks were sent your way the couple of times you stepped on his toe. Soon enough, you figured out the pace and learned how to follow through with his unspoken plans. Still, ever the novice, you managed to place your foot in a way that sent you both stumbling to the floor.

Hannibal held you close to his chest, ensuring you didn’t get hurt in the fall. “Oh my sweet girl,” he laughed, “we are going to need more practice.”

You hid your face against his neck, ignoring the fact that he could feel how hot your face was getting. “You want more of that?”

“You were doing perfect, YN,” he stroked your hair sympathetically, “One misstep isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

Taking a deep breath, you shifted off of the older man, opting to sit beside him on the floor. Hannibal followed suit, leaning back on his elbows. “I really am going to miss seeing you regularly,” you admitted, reaching out your hand to push back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“We spend much of our time together,” he acknowledged as he looked at you curiously. “In the kitchen-“

Your eyes widened slightly, “We don’t need to talk about that i-it’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Romantically or physically?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you see me as a romantic or physical conquest?”

“I, um,” you opted to look at your fumbling hands, “I’m honestly not sure about romance… especially considering… everything and my experience when it comes to romance. Never really thought past- I’m talking too much.”

Hannibal’s hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Oh? What happened to the confident girl in the kitchen? Don’t go shy on me now.”

“I was high on your cologne, you can hardly blame me,” you rambled, “It pairs with mine nicely I think.”

His thumb stroked absentmindedly at your jaw. “Such a sweet little thing you are… Now, tell me, YN, what couldn’t you think past?”

“You,” you offered lamely, “Mostly nights when I needed to relax. You’d cross my mind. I’d wonder how you felt. How’d you do things. Maybe you’d like to leave bruises only you’d ever know about…”

“There’s something special in knowing what others don’t,” Hannibal acknowledged, “I do enjoy my lovers wearing my marks, hidden from others view and only acknowledged by myself. As it should be, I’m certain you agree.”

You swallowed thickly at the implication of being marked as his solely. The idea of having normal conversations with him at the college with evidence of him knowing you well burned against your skin. Maybe you’d see if you could convince him into one particular fantasy Friday night had conjured.

He rested his thumb against your bottom lip, bringing you back to him. “I’ve had thoughts of my own… I wonder… Have you ever wrapped a hand around your own neck?” Hannibal smirked at the way your lips parted in surprise as he felt the heat rise to your face, caught in a way you hadn’t expected. “Sweet girl, were you desperate for me?”

You went to lick your bottom lip out of habit, instead finding the pad of his thumb. “Yes, sir.”

“Darling,” he sighed out softly, almost disappointed, “we could have sorted you out this entire time, if you’d only ask politely. There would have been no need for you to imagine, creative as you might have been. You always put everyone’s needs before yours, but where does that leave you?” Hannibal his thumb pressed against your lips lightly, humming in satisfaction when you let him in, already so compliant. “All you have to do is ask. What would you have me do tonight?” A soft pop sounded in the room as he pulled his thumb back, smearing your spit onto your lips and chin.

“Just tonight?” The words rolled out of your mouth thoughtlessly.

A soft laugh. “Maybe more, if you behave.”

Hannibal threaded his hand into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. Leaning closer he took a deep breath, taking you in, before leaving a simple kiss against your neck. His warm breath fanned across your face as he kept you in anticipation. Finally he graced you with a feather light kiss, so quick you weren’t sure you even noticed. You didn’t have time to feel ashamed of the whine that had escaped when he started to move away. Following after him, you caught him in an urgent kiss, threading your own hands in his hair to make sure he’d stay close. Hannibal bit at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding in the second you gasped. You ignored the sting and slight coppery taste.

Sure you had had your fair share of ventures. It was only natural to crave the attention for the night or a couple hours. However, Hannibal didn’t feel like any of your past partners. His kiss was unrelenting and passionate. Quickly he learned exactly how to kiss you to ensure you’d moan into his mouth. You weren’t sure how long had been spent like this. Lips on lips. Someone’s wandering hand trailing down the other’s body. The growing need. Every movement slowly became bolder. Hannibal took the time to pull you onto his thigh, closing the distance between you even more. He kissed along your neck until he found a spot that made you buck against him.

“Please,” you sighed out, not really knowing exactly what you wanted, but having faith that he’d give you just what you needed.

Hannibal leaned his forehead against yours, “Are you sure about this, darling?”

It wasn’t time for contemplation though, everything was already set into motion. He had just asked out of politeness. His hands moved to your hips, he dragged you against himself in a way that clouded your mind. “You’re very convincing,” you said with a shuddered breath. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you matched his rhythm. At the moment everything in the world was him and you couldn’t find it in you to mind.

“You came to me,” he pointed out. His hand tugged at your shirt and you allowed him to pull it off. Fingers raised goose bumps along your skin as he followed the fabric of your bra to unclasp the material.

“Could you blame me?” You kissed the side of his jaw for the second time this night. The lipstick mark left behind wasn’t as embarrassing when you were half undressed on his lap. A blush blossomed in your chest as you watched his darken eyes take you in.

Hannibal kissed along your chest. His hand made its way into your pants, drawing slow circles on your clit. Your soft moan and jut of your hips urged him for more. Before you could ask, he thrusted two fingers inside of you, the pace changing every so often as he took in your reactions. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you grinded against his hand. Soft whimpers were muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

“Come on sweet girl,” he used his free hand to pull you off of his shoulder by the hair, “you shouldn’t be hiding. Look at me when I’m touching you. Don’t you want to be my good toy?”

You nodded meekly, unable to make a smart comment when you saw a smirk settle on his lips as a too loud moan took its place.

“That’s it, no one can hear you,” he teased as he worked at the spot harder, his thumb rubbed at your clit. “You seem very close, what if I…”

As he went to move his hand, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No, no, no. Please, I’ll be good for you.”

He chuckled, but didn’t say a word as he brought his pace back up. Instead he chose to revel in your soft sounds and the way you had to focus to keep your eyes on him. Finally, he decided keeping you on the edge was enough and allowed you to cum on his fingers.

“Clean up your mess,” he said as he thrusted his cum coated fingers into your mouth, “There you go, good girl.”

You watched him as you sucked his fingers clean. Bringing a hand down you palmed cock through his pants, fully intending on returning the favor. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I’m afraid that status isn’t going to change anytime soon.” Hannibal kissed your pouted lip. “Don’t worry, I fully intend on taking care of you. Come, let’s make you more comfortable.”

As he stood, Hannibal offered you his hand to help you up. You followed him through the home to his bedroom, a place you didn’t think you’d end up but were more than pleased to see. Still you weren’t exactly taking in the sights when you were pulled into a rougher kiss as he led you toward his bed. A not too gentle push to your chest landed you on top of it. Leaning back on your elbows, you watched as Hannibal took his time undressing you fully.

“You don’t play fair,” you complained, shifting yourself higher on the bed, away from him, “I like a pretty view too you know.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly, “Very well, but only as a reward for earlier. I know you struggled.”

You smiled at that, shaking your head, “Come here won’t you?”

There wasn’t any time wasted when he settled on top of you, you didn’t have his patience. Your hands worked on his tie and buttons as his lips and teeth trailed across your chest. A subtle grind against your pussy had your thighs squeeze his waist. Pushing his shirt off, you felt down his chest, still surprised by how muscular he seemed to be underneath it all. You wondered if he’d stop you as you reached for his belt.

“That’s enough. I don’t think you’ve earned it just yet.”

An annoyed huff was all you could manage.

“All in its time, darling.” A surprisingly gentle kiss was dropped on your cheek. “Can you manage waiting a while longer for me?”

You resisted the urge to nuzzle against him, unused to such soft displays from past partners. “Yes, sir...”

“Always such a sweet, polite thing.”

Hannibal kissed and bit his way down your body, ensuring there would be evidence of him the next time you saw yourself in the mirror. He allowed you to thread your fingers in his hair, giving him a soft push down when he took too long marking you in one spot. It wasn’t much longer until Hannibal was level with your thighs, he pushed them further apart. A moment passed without anything before you remembered his rule. Willing yourself up you looked down at him, catching a wink before you were rewarded with a broad lick. Hannibal sucked your clit, pressing your hips down when you grinded against him.

A helpless noise was the most you could do.

He bit your thigh, his fingers immediately making their way back inside of you, targeting the spot he had quickly learned turned you to putty.

“You really are beautiful like this,” Hannibal acknowledged, “Completely at my mercy. Desperate for anything I’m willing to give you.”

There wasn’t any time to think up something to say as Hannibal’s mouth replaced his fingers, silencing any words that weren’t his breathy attempts of his name and pleas. Teeth grazed against your clit and a soft moan of his own was enough to pull you closer.

“Please, daddy,” you begged, too far gone to be embarrassed by your slip, “I’m close…”

Hannibal was merciful, helping you finish as quickly as you had asked. Maybe at another time he would have teased and made you hold on longer but there was only so much patience he had. Especially when there was such an eager lover begging him. You watched him, dazed, as he came back up, his hand gripping at your jaw.

“Open.”

Doing as he wanted, you opened your mouth, instantly receiving a mix of the still lingering wine he had drank at dinner and you. He watched as you swallowed.

He let out an almost dreamy sigh. “So pliant.”

Hannibal kissed you, finally allowing you to get your way as you pushed off the last clothes. You pumped him in your hand, working up the courage as you shook off the daze he had left you in. He was definitely the most talented partner you had had.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Hannibal reassured you, kissing the side of your mouth, “I’m perfectly sedated watching you.”

You shook your head immediately, not wanting him to think you were hesitant. “I want to, college guys aren’t so giving, just needed some time to clear my head.” As if to prove your point you gave him a squeeze, that made him thrust into your hand on instinct. “I just feel bad you’re doing all the work.”

“I prefer it,” he groaned quietly, as you thumbed at the slit. Hannibal rolled so that you could be on top of him, “But if you insist…”

A soft laugh. “That was hardly the fight I was expecting,” you muttered teasingly, kissing his jaw.

“My patience is running thin.”

At that you straddled him, your hand lining him up with you. His hands held you steady as you sunk onto him. The both of you moaned softly when he was fully inside. Hannibal slowly grinded you against himself as you adjusted to his size. Hands against his chest, you started riding him in earnest.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you, his fingernails digging harder into your hips.

“Yours,” you whimpered, too enthralled in the feel of him to pay any attention to the weight of what you were saying. His groans underneath you encouraged you more than anything. “All yours.”

Hannibal sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you firm against him. His soft kiss was a contrast to how roughly he was working himself into you. You couldn’t find it in you to care that he had taken control again. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him do as he pleased, just enjoying the way his hands and lips would travel across your body. Teasing, pinching, biting everywhere he could reach. Your chest alone would be covered in marks left behind by Hannibal. That would be a problem for the future you to deal with at the moment you were too preoccupied with begging him for more. He’d slow his thrust whenever he felt you close to the end, chuckling lowly at the whining sounds you had made.

“Give daddy one more sweet girl. I know you can.”

You moaned loudly, giving Hannibal exactly what he wanted. When he wanted. Drained, you fell limp against his shoulder. Every small sound you made broadcast directly to him as he used you for all your worth. His arms tightened around you when you tried to pull away from the over stimulation.

“Daddy’s close,” he promised, his accent thicker than usual, “I’ve taken such good care of my girl. Be good for me.”

Nodding, you dug your nails into his shoulders. You could be good. He had been so good to you after all. Still your vision blurred and it had taken a while longer for him to finally go still inside of you.

Hannibal kissed the side of your head, before pulling you to lay down against him. His thumb wiped away the stray tear that had managed to fall. “You did so well for me. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You sighed sleepily, curling into his side more comfortably, “I’m alright. Just want you.”

“We’ll take care of you later,” he promised, seeing how tired you were, “You should rest, darling. I’ll be right here.” His hand rested on your hip, thumbing at forming bruise gently. Between the soft touch and his quiet humming, it didn’t take long for you to find sleep.

NextChapter

#hannibal lecter #Hannibal Lecter x reader #reader insert #smut #hannibal #Hannibal nbc #Hannibal x reader

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rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

Text

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ɴᴇʀᴅ ⓟⓐⓡⓣ ①

______________________

ғʀᴀᴛʙᴏʏ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x sʜʏ-ɪsʜ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀᴜ

(ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ɪ ɢᴜᴇss)

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: (two part series!) You’re starting to struggle in class and decide to ask your professor for some tutoring or extra classes to boost your grade. He ends up assigning the last person you’d expect to tutor you. (is it really a surprise though?)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none in this chapter ;)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟸.𝟸ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅs (sᴏʀʀʏ ɪᴛ’s ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ)

______________________

You stare at your work for what seems like hours before deciding to glance at the clock only to find it’s been 20 mins. This subject was never your strong suit but in order to earn your desired degree, you had to take this class. You’d been putting it off for some time but it’s just better to get it over with then struggle right before graduation. So here you are sitting and staring at the work that just doesn’t seem to make sense.

By the time your professor released the class for the day, you’d barely even lifted your pen from the table.

“Y/n, could I speak to you for a minute?” your professor said, “James, if you could stay as well.”

“What’s up, professor?” Bucky flashed a cheeky smile. The bastard has always been charming since you saw him and especially taking a couple classes with him too. A huge player too of course. I mean what’s a frat boy without getting laid after every party they throw.

“Lemme speak to you first,” he gestured to you, “how is the assignment going?”

You were a bit embarrassed to admit that you were struggling a lot especially in front of Bucky. He’s actually a pretty nice person but not really being a super social one yourself, he tends to intimidate you along with the rest of his friends more than you’d like to admit.

“Well if I’m being honest, I can’t seem to grasp onto the material. I’m really trying but I just can’t,” you practically whispered.

You didn’t want to but you took a quick glance at Bucky to see what he was probably thinking but thankfully he was on his phone; probably giving you as much privacy as he could.

“Well is there anything you like me to do to help in understanding the material? Maybe a tutor?”

“Yes, that would probably be beneficial,” you chuckled.

“Perfect, because James here is one the best students I’ve had,” ok kinda backhanded.

Bucky’s head shot up when he heard his name and quickly put his phone away averted his attention to the professor.

“Right James?”

“Hmm?”

“James here has a 97% in the class. He’s got the highest grade of all my classes,” the professor seemed like a proud father to him. Bucky merely just shook his head, getting really shy almost. Bucky, shy? Weird.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he murmured.

“Nope, 100% true. Your teachers and I talk a lot about you. You’re very gifted, James,” James looked at you completely embarrassed. You stood with wide eyes because you didn’t think frat boys actually took their studies seriously. They’re usually up late with all the parties they throw every weekend and some of them are so indulged into their sports that they probably didn’t have time to get A’s in their classes.

“So what do you say, Y/n? Willing to let him tutor you?”

“I mean if he has time and wants to, I’d be very appreciative of it.”

“Yeah I guess I can,” he smiled.

“Thank you, and thank you too, Professor.”

“Looking forward to that assignment, Y/n. Now scram, kids.”

“Hey thanks for-”

“You can’t tell anyone that I'm tutoring you,” he cut you off, not in a mean way, just panicked.

“Oh ok.”

“I mean it. Look it was already hard getting into the frat house and now being head of house, it’ll be embarrassing if they found out I’m a nerd.”

“What’s so bad about being a nerd?”

“I don’t know. It’s like an unspoken rule I guess.”

“What a nerd,” you joked.

“Whatever,” he chuckled, “So your place or mine?”

“Huh?” you questioned.

“For tutoring? Do you want me to come over?”

“Oh I thought we would do that in the library or something,” you responded.

“I mean we can, I just didn’t know what time and the library closes pretty early.”

“You can come over. I’ll ask my roommate if it’s ok.”

“Ok, let me get your number so we can coordinate.”

“Ok, thanks again, Tom.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he smiled back.

+++

“Girl what are you getting yourself into?” your roommate, Natasha questioned.

“What do you mean?”

“Buck is gonna tutor you? I’m pretty sure he knows jack shit about what is going on in that class.” Right, no one knows he’s practically a genius.

“I don’t know. My professor said he could help me so I’m gonna give it a shot. He can’t stupider than me, especially with this subject.”

“Ok,” she mocked.

“But if he tries anything let me know,” she warned.

“Why would he try anything?” you asked, confused about the sudden subject change.

“Y/n, Bucky is a huge player. He’s hooked up with like more than half the girls in the sorority houses. Hell, even I hooked up with him.”

“Oh my god, what!”

“It was last year when I was in a house. I hated it so I moved out this year. Still friends with Wanda though. You’d like her.”

“Ok well I don’t think he will, I mean look at me.”

“What?”

You hesitated because you weren’t the most confident person. There was nothing wrong with you but there also wasn’t anything special. You were barely a social person let alone some who could easily pursue a relationship or even a hook up.

“I think you’re hot, but something tells me you think otherwise,” Nat said.

“I don’t wanna get into it but just know you won’t have to worry about anything happening.”

You texted Bucky that he could come over whenever he was available and about 30 mins later he was knocking on your door ready to help you with the assignment.

+++

Obviously nothing happened that night, or the night after, or the night after. Or the next four weeks after. Bucky was actually helping you understand the material a lot better. You were still a bit confused but not as much as before. During your sessions you were beginning to learn a lot more things about Bucky like how his childhood best friend Steve Rogers was also a member in the house; and also knows about his prodigy brain.

“How’s the tutoring going?” Steve asked walking into the kitchen where you and Bucky were doing work.

“Good I guess,” you responded.

“Well I’ll uh, leave you two be.”

He didn’t in fact leave but instead start gesturing quite aggressively to ask you more questions to get to know you better. See what you didn’t know was that Bucky had taken even more of a liking to you since starting your study sessions together. He never pursued anything because he didn’t want to scare you and definitely didn’t want you to think that he was taking advantage of the situation you guys were in; you know being your tutor and all.

Sure Bucky was kind of a player but the rumors of sleeping with another girl at every party every weekend wasn’t totally true. He hooked up with a couple girls but he wasn’t a sex addict. And he definitely didn’t leave them high and dry. He would usually meet up with the girls but they didn’t seem to want anything more than a one night stand.

He sort of gave up on finding a relationship and soon after altogether stopped having sex, especially at their parties the boys host every weekend. He definitely wasn’t waiting until marriage but he didn’t want to feel used anymore because that was seemingly the case after each ‘hook-up’ that happened.

When Bucky first saw you in class, he truly thought you the most beautiful girl ever. He quickly caught on to the fact that you were not a social person; you weren’t exactly shy but definitely didn’t initiate conversation. You always kept to yourself in the back of each classroom and quietly did your work. Bucky goddamn fell head over heels for you.

But you two never talked.

Every chance he got to initiate some sort of conversation was quickly taken away whether it’d be the end of class time where you’d briskly leave the classroom to attend your next lecture, or the boys in his house would meet up with him completely interfering with his window to talk to you. And it’s not like you ever went to any of the frat parties.

So he continued to chase you all the while having absolutely no idea one of the most well known and well liked frat boys at the university having this massive giant enormous fat crush on you. And to top it off, now that he’s certainly got all the time in the world to finally get to know you, he freezes up and can only seem to answer your questions… about school.

You didn’t take Bucky to be such an awkward guy. You definitely didn’t think with all the girls that are constantly after him and how charismatic he seemed he would actually be super quiet awkward after the initial ‘Hey, what’s up!’.

You grew a liking to him though because he wasn’t annoying. The majority of guys in the house were pretty loud and obnoxious whenever you got the chance to hear them usually while you were studying in Bucky’s room because again, no one really knew how much of a nerd he really was. But you never actually met the rest of the boys. You’d always managed to sneak out to avoid confrontation about why you're even there.

Speaking of loud and obnoxious frat boys.

“Hey hey hey!” they walked in.

Immediately you and Bucky grabbed all the papers and threw them in your backpack while Steve went out to hopefully stall the boys from coming into the kitchen like they always did after football practice.

As soon as the last paper went inside your bag, the boys walked past Steve into the kitchen to find you and Bucky standing there awkwardly.

“Who’s this?” Tony asked.

“This is a girl in my class, Y/n.”

“Whatcha doing here?”

“She’s tutoring me,” Bucky quickly lied. Ironically.

“Oh man, dude,” one of the boys laughed.

“Well we’ll be out of your hair. Good luck, Bucky and don’t annoy her.”

“We’ll be in my room studying you guys are fine,” Bucky grabbed your arm and took upstairs to his room.

“So they’re fine with you being tutored but not tutoring?” you asked in a mocking tone.

“It’s a weird rule but also a lot of the guys downstairs get tutored too. Like Vis, and Thor, oh Thor. Loki does too and Steve. But if I’m being honest, I do in fact think Bruce and Tony are science nerds. But Tony sleeps around enough to distract from it, not Bruce so much but he’s pretty quiet.”

“Ugh, boys.”

“Anyways, shall we continue?” he chuckled.

“I guess, yeah.”

After about an hour in his room, you ended up leaning out of studying and more into talking and getting to know each other; properly this time.

“And yeah, that’s how my sister’s pants exploded.”

“That’s hilarious.”

There was a moment of silence between you two before it got too awkward and you spoke out.

“I should probably get going.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“I can call a cab. It’s fi-”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted, “I’ll drive you. It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yeah. It’s totally fine.”

You told Bucky your address to your apartment and remained in silence during the majority of the car ride.

“You know I never striked you as a quiet person,” you broke the silence.

“What? I’m not a quiet person.”

“Yes you are. Everytime we have a study session it’s usually silent until I have to ask you a question about something.”

“Well, it’s not my intention to be so awkward around you.”

“Why are you?” you asked him.

“I don’t know,” then it got quiet again.

You arrived at your apartment and unclicked your seatbelt. You turned to Bucky to say goodbye and realized how close you two were. Admittedly you didn’t mind too much; what you didn’t expect was for Bucky to in fact kiss you. He grabbed your arm gently and pulled closer to him as his eyes closed, lips moving against yours slowly. You weren’t exactly mad but you weren’t also happy with this outcome.

Despite Bucky not hooking up with anyone for a long time now and being completely enamored by you, you still believe he was a ladies man because he hadn’t told you otherwise. You didn’t want to be another name added to the list of a frat boy’s one night stands. So you pulled away with slightly furrowed brows and Bucky realized he fucked up.

“Thanks again, Bucky,” you quickly got out of the car, not acknowledging him shouting your name before the car door closed. You ran up the steps to enter your apartment as fast as you can, still feeling the taste of him on your lips and tongue. God why did he have to do that?

Bucky sat in his car for a bit but decided to leave to not bother you and possibly fuck things up more than they already are. He’ll wait for you to come to him so he doesn’t seem invasive. Yeah that’s the plan.

But things don’t normally go to plan right?

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky #bucky fluff #frat!boy bucky barnes #collage!bucky #collage au

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lyssismagical · 3 years

Text

evermore

Just a Solid Vent Fic

I wanna do 30 days of Taylor Swift-inspired fics (folklore and evermore) lmao but idk yet we’ll see lemme know tho

As a compromise for Tony not being able to pay Peter’s tuition to MIT thanks to his full ride, Tony bought an apartment right beside campus for Peter to live in, to ensure no awkward adventures trying to be Spider-Man with a roommate.

Peter’s still adamant about getting a job and paying for his food, phone bill, and any other things like clothing or entertainment.

And balancing classes, patrolling, and a job, isn’t easy, of course. But it’s always been better for him to work hard than to give himself time to think. It’s not like his mental health is on hold, but it’s easier to put it aside when he’s got so much to do all the time.

It doesn’t help that he’s also on the debate team thanks to MJ, and in the robotics club thanks to Ned.

When November rolls around and it brings the final projects, Peter pushes himself to the limit to keep up with everything.

He starts dropping his sleep to only a nap whenever he can squeeze it in, working all afternoon, classes all morning, and Spider-Man all night, and he starts making up excuses for anything that isn’t a number one priority.

He stops seeing his friends, stops calling May back, stops replying to Tony’s worried texts, stops helping out with his professors or the librarian or his classmates. He stops cleaning his apartment, letting dishes pile up on the counters and laundry go unwashed.

It’s bad, and he knows that, rationally and logically, he knows.

But that doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

Three weeks, he tells himself.

And he keeps pushing.

MJ shows up at his apartment out of the blue when he’s studying away, and he barely manages to clear the fog in his head to stumble for the door.

“I can’t talk right now,” he says before she can even say hello. “I’ve gotta study for my physics exam.”

“No, you’ve gotta chill the fuck out.”

He shakes his head, leaving the door open as he turns his back and heads into his kitchen for a quick snack so he can get back to his work. “No, I have to study.”

“Oh my god, you live in a garbage dump,” she says, eyes going wide as she takes in the state of his apartment. “When was the last time you washed a dish? Or, gross, your hair?”

He doesn’t bother responding, rolling his eyes and downing a protein bar. “Two weeks, now, and then I’m done for a month.”

“At this rate, I don’t know if you’ll make it through the next two weeks.”

Peter can’t help but roll his eyes again, part of him hating how much he’s lashing out despite wanting help, needing help, but unable to find the strength to stop it from happening as he brushes past her again.

“I know you’re stressed, I know you’re anxious about exams and papers and labs, but, seriously, Peter?” she says, following him to where he’s working in the living room, papers and binders and textbooks strewn across every surface. “You’re a genius, okay? You’ve been getting excellent grades all year. The only reason you might not do well on these projects is because you’re working yourself to death.”

He shakes his head, feeling very suddenly like he might cry. “It’s not that easy. Just… I don’t want to deal with this right now, okay?”

MJ doesn’t take that as a good answer, though, sitting beside him on the old couch. “I know you, okay? I know you better than most people do. I’ve seen you in some of the worst states you’ve been in. I know this. You can’t pretend that this is okay or normal or that this is you doing fine. I don’t believe it for a second.”

He opens his mouth to fight back, to argue, to try to convince her otherwise, or maybe just to kick her out. But he hesitates.

After the Snap’s reversal, she was the one who devoted all her time to taking care of him. He was such a mess of PTSD and depression and emptiness, but she was there. She kept the lights on for him, she brought him food and water, held him after nightmares, talked him down from panic attacks every other day. She was there, despite everything, she was always there.

Tony was too far and he never wanted to bother May, so he regularly would drop by her fire escape where she would patch him up after patrols, and occasionally, let him sleep next to her and make sure to get him to school on time.

She’s always been there.

She’s held him together, kept him sane, helped him through it all.

It wouldn’t be fair to get pissed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, shoving a hand through his mess of greasy, tangled curls. “I’m such a mess, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m drowning.”

And she nods because she’s always understood, always known what he means. She puts her hand over his. “You deserve a nap. C’mon.”

He goes to shake his head, looking to where his lab is only half-done, he’s only a few chapters into the textbook to get prepared for his exam, rough notes scribbled out for a paper.

“No, c’mon. You’re taking a nice nap. You deserve it,” she repeats, tugging more insistently at his wrist.

But he shakes his head this time, pulling his hand away. “If I stop, I won’t be able to start again.”

“Peter-”

“I’m serious, if I take a nap or a break or take a second to breathe, I will crumble and I won’t be able to put myself back together in time for these due dates. I won’t get back up. I just-” He stops, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his wet eyes. “I need to keep pushing for the next two weeks and then I can fall apart.”

MJ shakes her head, fingers wrapping around his thin wrist. “That’s not healthy. And it certainly wouldn’t be right for me to let you do that.”

“I’ll fail my classes if I don’t do well on these assignments and exams. I need to keep going. I know it’s bad, but if I get into bed, I will fall into a slump and I won’t get anything done.”

Surprising both him and what seems like herself, she nods, holding onto him a little tighter like he’ll disappear before her very eyes. “Fine. But I’m going to stay here with you and make sure you don’t die over the next two weeks, alright? And you have to listen when I tell you to eat or watch stupid reality TV shows with me.”

He hums out an agreement, letting himself slump into her side, eyes focusing in on his mess of homework laid out before him.

“Come on. Step one, is getting you showered and in clean clothes because you smell like you spent the night in a dumpster.”

MJ does exactly as she promised she would. She calls it a ‘mental health sleepover’ and they set up camp in the living room.

She calls in sick for him at work for most of the week, telling them that he caught the flu and wouldn’t be back until after his exams, and even then, he’d already booked most of Winter Break off to go home to New York.

There wasn’t much she could do, in all honesty, it wasn’t like she could force him to sleep or take a break without a fight, but she could make him healthy meals and stop him from going out patrolling, which was enough to take a big load off his shoulders.

And she occasionally can convince him to watch those dumb reality TV shows, which occasionally makes him fall asleep on the couch for at least an hour or two.

It helps, of course, but it doesn’t solve any of the problems.

As soon as he’s finished exams, he’s going to drop, he’s going to fall, he’s going to drown, let the waves take him.

And nobody will be able to help him then.

“I booked your flight home,” MJ says over dinner and while he’s finishing up his lab report. “My flight’s a few hours after yours, so I’ll be with you until you board and then the Starks will pick you up.”

“Thanks. I really owe you one,” he says, only half-listening as he starts on his paper.

She grabs him by his shoulder and makes him turn to her laptop screen. “Say yes to the dress time. Your paper can wait a bit.”

“There’s only so much I can procrastinate,” he says but he’s already closing his laptop and tucking himself into her side, and shoulders finally relaxing.

She starts the episode, on a low volume, and presses a quick kiss to his temple.

By the time they’re onto the second episode, Peter’s slurring out his insults to the dresses some of the women pick, making fun of the different styles, and blinking getting longer and longer.

“That neckline?” Peter goes, giggling into MJ’s shoulder. “Especially with those shoes?”

“You’re a bitch.”

“I know, but seriously?” he laughs again, a little window into the person he once was. “I mean the first option wasn’t bad, but the choice of a grey dress in the first place…”

MJ’s voice goes all soft and gentle when she next speaks up, “Come on, go to sleep, you can afford to take a little break.”

And he nods sleepily against her shoulder, tucking himself just a little closer, making himself small against her side. It’s simple, for now.

As soon as he’s done his last exam, he can feel the adrenaline wearing off, disappearing from within him, all energy draining from his very veins.

He goes straight home afterwards, ignoring everybody who tries to stop him for a chat. And as soon as he makes it to his apartment, he goes straight to bed, tugging the sheets right over his head.

He shouldn’t do this, he knows. He should call MJ, ask that she drop everything for him again because he can feel himself slipping, but he won’t. He can’t. He doesn’t even know when the last time he saw his phone was, let alone have the effort to leave his blankets and try to find it. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t have it in him to care.

He feels empty and exhausted and strung out. Carved hollow. Putting everything he has into the past few months, he feels like he has nothing left to give.

There’s a knock on his front door, but he doesn’t move.

A few minutes later, his phone rings, somewhere in another part of the apartment. It rings again and again, a symphony for him to pass out to.

Time passes strangely when he’s this deep in a depressive episode. He doesn’t know how long he’s been huddled under his blankets, hiding from the world. It could’ve been anywhere between a couple hours and a few days, he doesn’t know.

His phone continues ringing, far away and echoing through his dreams, tears sliding down his cheeks at random intervals, hands trembling where they’re tucked under his chest.

He feels like he’s drifting away, collapsing into himself, fading away into nothingness.

He feels empty, hollow, gone.

He gave everything he had into school and work over the course of four months, and he has nothing left to give anymore. He’s nothing more than an empty well.

And he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to pull himself together, pack, get a flight home, and pretend to be one hundred percent for Morgan.

He’d rather just die here, in this cave he’s built, ghost-like and fading away already, than have to face another soul.

When he hears his front door unlocking, he knows he should be worried. Nobody has a spare copy of his key except for Ned, who already went home to New York a few weeks back.

He knows it should be at least a little concerning that somebody is breaking into his apartment, but he can’t find it in him to care. He doesn’t have the energy to move or hide or try to protect himself.

He just curls up a little tighter and hopes that this won’t be his last day.

“Peter?”

He lifts his head, just enough to see over his cave of his blankets.

And standing in his bedroom doorway is Tony.

“Hi,” he breathes, curling up a little tighter, knowing he’s safe.

Tony slips into his room and sits at the end of his bed, one hand on Peter’s ankle. “MJ called when you wouldn’t answer your phone or let her in. She knew something was up.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I saw something like this coming after you finished your senior year and spent two weeks sick and depressed. I thought you’d be home in time before you started feeling so run down, but I guess I was wrong.”

Peter doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond to that, so instead he lets his head fall into the pillows again.

“I’m not going to make you do anything yet, I think you could use a bit more time here. Though, Morgan thought two days sleeping was plenty, I think another one might do you well. But tomorrow, we’re going to get you fed and showered and your apartment clean, and then this weekend, we’ll get a flight home. Sound good?”

He nods, though he’s pretty sure he would agree to pretty much anything so long as the decisions are taken out of his hands.

“Come here,” Tony murmurs, sliding into the space beside Peter, arms open. Peter finally feels at home when he crawls into the awaiting hug. “MJ mentioned Say Yes to the Dress bingeing, you feel up for making fun of more dress choices?”

Peter laughs half-heartedly against Tony’s chest, tucking himself into him like a child would, and nods, breathing in the soothing scent of motor oil and expensive cologne.

He knows he’ll fall apart again, he knows that it’s not going to be a permanent solution, but the time being, he has Tony’s arms around him, a reality TV show quietly keeping them company, and the relief of having time to feel miserable before he has to pick himself up, it’s enough for now. It’ll be enough.

He’ll be okay with people like Tony and MJ at his side.

He’ll be okay.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @fancyxparker @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @justme--emily @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

#lyss writes #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #michelle jones #mjpeter #spideychelle #if you want #platonic or romantic idc #irondad and spiderson #irondad fic #spiderman #iron man #tw mental illness #tw depression #tw university #lmao i feel like i need to include that just in case other people don't even want to hear about it anymore #tw dissociation

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futurewriter2000 · 4 years

Text

Berry Bubblegum

A/N: This took me so long. Like oh my. Haven’t written this long since....since a long time ago but I’m glad I finished and I hope you like it. All the love.

REQUESTED by @play-morezeppelin : Hi! Can i request a Fred x Slytherin reader fic/ one shot where she has to tutor him and he’s kicked off the Quidditch team until he get his grades up. He, and the gryffindor team resent her for this and tease her a lot when she’s actually really nice. She kind of helps Malfoy w family issues and they think that they’re friends, and she has a really hard time but ignores them. Eventually Fred realises how nice she is and kinda falls for her but the team still don’t aprove, or something.

You didn’t know why you were in McGonagall’s office. You haven’t done anything troubling and your grades were stable, you’ve been a good student since your First year, not known as problematic, rather just a good normal student out of the center of attention. You were a normal student- a normal scholar just wanting to graduate.

So why were you in the office of Gryffindor’s head of the house? And what was the redhead doing here?

You looked at him with puzzled innocent eyes and he shot you a glare, looking you from head to toe before scoffing to himself, crossing his arms and smirking.

You felt heat reach your cheeks as fast as anxiety and discomfort knotted your stomach. You sat down on the chair next to him and watched the professor start the conversation.

It was quiet and awkward. The professor kept glancing between the two of you, smiling to herself and lightly shaking her head.

“Have a biscuit, Miss (y/l/n).” she offered and you smiled shyly.

“No, thank you, professor.” you declined her offer as the redhead reached for one.

“Don’t mind if I do.” he grinned as the professor narrowed her eyes at him, then softening it and looking at you.

“You shouldn’t worry, Miss (y/l/n). I can reassure you haven’t done anything wrong to be here.” she sent you another smile and you felt your whole body relax in one swift moment. “Mr. Weasley already knows why he is here.” she started, tangling her fingers together and giving you both a tight-lipped smile. “He has been neglecting his school duties as a student and been solely focused on his selfish needs.” she shot him a glare and he smiled nervously at her stern look. “He needs a tutor.” he then looked at you, softening her expression.

You let yourself ponder for a while before realizing what she has been trying to say. You let your eyes spread wide before you started to talk in a stuttering manner. “You- you don’t mean me, professor? Do you?”

“Well, why do you think you’re here?” she let out a small laugh.

“B- but don’t you think a Gryffindor should tutor a Gryffindor- and I’m a Slytherin.” you kept looking at her, feeling quite uncomfortable from her proposition.

“That’s what I’ve been telling her all along.” said the boy next to you.

“You are excelling in classes Mr. Weasley does not.” she started to explain. “And he is strangely surpassing in Charms, where you, Miss (y/l/n), find that class quite difficult to master.” she stood up and started pacing up and down. “I have talked to the Headmaster, explaining Mr. Weasley’s situation and he proposed to assign you personally.”

“Personally?” you blurted out, not believing this yourself.

“Professor Dumbledore takes interest in all of his students, Miss (y/l/n), and you had certainly grabbed his attention somehow.”

“I did?” you continued to be surprised, a prideful smile appearing on your lips.

“We noticed you have been helping a lot of students with tutoring them, especially your own house and some of the Hufflepuff students as well. I would love for you to tutor Mr. Weasley and help him raise his grades so he can as soon as possible regain his Quidditch privileges and go back on the field and as for you...” she sat back behind her desk. “Well, you might get an outstanding recommendation letter.”

You kept looking at her with wide eyes, blinking a few times. A recommendation letter?! You could get anywhere you want with an outstanding recommendation letter.

The redhead scoffed as he saw your expression, clearly petty about the situation he has gotten himself into. “Don’t let your brain fall out.” he couldn’t help himself.

“Weasley, detention.”

“For what?!”

“For being rude to your new tutor.”

“I don’t want her as a tutor.”

“Well, that is not your choice to get. You want to get back on the field, you do as I say or your parents will expect a call from me.” she struck with her voice, and the redhead sunk in his chair and started sulking.

“I propose you start right away or as soon as possible. The school year is close to an end and the Quidditch cup match is coming faster than you think.” she pulled out a wand, waved and the door behind the two of you opened.

The two of you walked out of the office and after a second or two of uncomfortable silence, you decided to speak up. “I’m free tomorrow after 11 am. My classes are cut short and we can start around noon.” you said but he kept walking forward, ignoring you. “Hello?!” you started to get furious, grabbing his arm and pulling him back.

He turned to you and forced a smile. “Sounds good.” he ripped his hand away and left.

---

You should have known he was lying. Hell, you did know but like always you try to give a person the benefit of doubt.

You saw him standing and laughing with his twin, clearly guilt-free that he left you waiting an hour in the library. You stormed over to him, grabbing his arm yet again and pulling him with you. You basically threw him in the corner. “I WAITED AN HOUR FOR YOU!!” you snapped and his eyes went wide... as well as his lips.

“That was today?” he coaxed, leaning on the wall and grinning at you.

“Yes! That was today and you bloody well know it!”

“No need to get hasty now, darling. We’ll meet tomorrow.” he tried to walk away but you grabbed his arm and threw him back.

“I don’t know who you think you are but we ARE going to the library, RIGHT NOW!”

“If you want to spend time with me, darling, you could ask me on a date.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop calling me darling and stop joking around! We need to get your grades up!”

“I’ll manage that on my own. Besides, I’m planning on-”

“Now you listen to me!” you backed him against the wall, looking up at the tall boy and pointing your finger at him. “I will not throw away my future and hard work because some selfish and prideful arse decides to be lazy!” you snapped as you saw his eyes watch you in amusement.

You could see he was a bit intimidated but you were also smart enough to realize that aggression won’t lead you anywhere with him. He’s just feeding on your frustration, especially since you’re a Slytherin.

You stepped back and looked away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that but I did mean what I said, Fred Weasley.” you looked up at him and crossed your arms. “I can see you don’t want me to be your tutor, so if you do not want us to work together to finish this school year, you don’t have to. I’ll find someone who will help me with Charms willingly.” you started walking away before stopping and looking over your shoulder. “And you should tell professor McGonagall cuz I won’t.”

---

You haven’t really much thought of your “agreement” since that day but you surely hoped your recommendation letter wouldn’t be thrown away because of one careless Gryffindor.

“So I’ve been thinking.” you heard someone beside you and you already knew who it was, due to his steady walk.

“You can do that?” you snarked and he laughed.

“Yes, fortunately, this brain can do a lot of normal things.”

“Doubt it.” you kept blurting out. Guess, you really weren’t over the whole recommendation letter. “Couldn’t tell her, could you?”

“No.” he denied, acting slightly offended. “I will help you help me get my grades up. I need to get back on the Quidditch team.”

You stopped and turned to him. “Alright then. Library in an hour.”

“Right now?!”

“We can do it right now too.” you said and started walking to the library. Before he could object, you cut in first. “Don’t make me wait again!”

“Just give me an hour to eat and get my stuff!”

You stopped and turned around, seeing him in the far distance. “Fine! But if you’re late I’ll murder you.”

“Charming!”

---

You left for the dungeons and find a few Slytherins waiting for you, specifically you.

His eyes were formed into a glare, his arms crossed and his thin mouth curved in a frown. “You hanging out with that Weasel now?” he spat out and you rolled your eyes, tilting your head to the side and asking him to talk alone.

He kept his facial expression the same; betrayed.

“I’m only helping him raise his grades up because McGonagall told me if I tutor him, the professors and Dumbledore will write me a recommendation letter.”

“I can just ask my father to-”

“I don’t want you to ask your father, Draco.” you gave him a soft smile. “I’ve been working so hard to get to this point. If I do this, all that hard work will be paid off. I will make it on my own, without anybody’s help.”

He kept watching you with a helpless look in his eyes. “I just want to repay you, I guess.”

“For what?” you smiled.

“For being there when nobody else would.”

“I know uncle, Draco. He’s not as bad as you make him out to be. He’s just dominated by fear and wants to make it safe for you.”

“Doubt it.” he scoffed, looking away. “You don’t live with him.”

“Well, he was babysitting us when mum and dad were working, so I basically grew up with the two of you. He practically raised me.”

“He loves you more than me.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

“He always looked up to your mum as his older sister. You remind him of her and he always compares me to you.”

“But you’re excelling in all your classes unlike me.”

“Not in the son department.”

“Can you stop?” you smiled and pulled him in a hug but he quickly pulled away.

“Don’t hug me in front of everybody.” he hissed and you laughed, ruffling his hair.

“As I remember my little cousin loves hugs.”

He kept slicking his hair back, shrugging. “In private....” he whispered and you laughed.

“I have to go but I’ll talk to you soon. We’ll talk about this.”

---

You were sitting in the library, listening to your walkman, and singing quietly to the song. You hummed along, tapping your pencil against the desk as your eyes were glued to the book in front.

You pretty much didn’t know what you were looking at since all you could focus solely on the music. What you also did not realize was the redhead and practically his whole Quidditch team laughing and walking towards you. Fred saw you from the distance, chewing a piece of pink bubble gum and making large balloons from it. You weren’t in a school uniform as he was, rather in a grey Slytherin hoodie that looked a bit oversized on you, black sweatpants which were tucked in long white socks at the bottom. Your hair was a bit frizzy and falling out of your bun. It was extremely a 70′s style. You loved dressing like the past decade. You always thought the 70s was the best decade to live in as a teenager. You saw your parent’s photos and you always heard amazing stories from them. It was the decade where everybody was accepted and you especially loved the socks. They were colourful and unique. You couldn’t understand how could something as the 70s get out of style so fast.

“She really tried to impress you.” one of the girls said beside Fred and you looked up immediately.

“Do you see her socks?” said the other and without any regards to them, you answered.

“You know I can hear you?” you said and looked up at them, pulling down your headphones and turning off the music. “Do you need hand-holding everywhere you go, Red?” you asked the boy in front and he grinned, sitting next to you.

“Pretty much.” he pulled out his books and quills as the others sat a few seats down. “Will you hold my hand?” he teased and you rolled your eyes.

“You won’t concentrate with them here.”

“They won’t bother me.”

“Well, they’ll bother me.”

“You’re Malfoy’s cousin, aren’t you?” you heard a shout from the others, looking their way and seeing smug smiles on their self-satisfied faces. “What’s it like being related to one of the biggest assholes in Hogwarts?”

“Wouldn’t know. Maybe ask your brother. He would surely know an answer for you, McCay.” you snarked back and could see him glaring.

“You really are a smart mouth, aren’t you?”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Or just mouth apparently.” McCay jested and the others started laughing.

You felt tightness in your throat but you swallowed it and lifted your head. “If you came here to make fun of me, you can-”

“Not just you, your style as well. Apparently, you’re still living in the 70′s with those horrendous socks.” he continued but you didn’t let him get to you.

Instead, you put your feet on the table and crossed them, smirking at him. “You’re just jealous I have socks. Heard your dad got fired for stealing from the office.”

McCay’s face burned red from anger and he stood up, trying to make his way to you. Fred stood up and prevented him from coming closer. “Walk it off, McCay.” he glared.

“You’re taking her side!?”

“I’m not taking any sides but I think you should leave before the two of you kill each other.”

You were pleased with how this ended. You pissed off McCay and you stood your ground. It was closest to triumph, especially since you and McCay loathed each other. His parents and yours were always at each other’s throats and nothing was different between the two of you.

When they left, Fred sat back down and looked at your smug face. “You don’t have to be cruel, you know?”

“I’m not letting anybody talk down on my family or myself.” you put your feet down and sat normally in your seat. “I know Gryffindor is all about loyalty but even you are smart enough to know the McCay's are thieves and manipulators.” you kept looking at him as he did the same. You could see the conflict in his eyes but he didn’t let it take over.

“McCay’s a friend. I’ll always vouch for him.”

“Your life.” you shrugged and opened the books. “Let’s start.”

---

Your tutoring lessons have been going on for weeks now and you have waited for Red to tell you about news from his exams. You’ve been so anxious when he was taking his O.W.L.’s, more anxious than you were for your own.

Fred, on the other hand, had helped you with Charms and he himself was thinking about your Charms final exam when he was taking his own Arithmancy exam. It painted a smile on his face as he saw the first question.

‘ He kept looking at the book and then slowly made eye contact with you. His brain was burnt out, his whole body exhausted and his face pitiful. He didn’t understand.

You smiled at his puppy-dog eyes that were pleading you with nothing more but a break or the end of this torture. “Come on, just this one more question-”

“This is not a question it’s a whole algorithm of stupid numbers that don’t even exist!” he threw the pencil on the book and threw his head back. He pressed his palms over his eyes and groaned. “We’ve been at this for three hours and I can’t do these numbers anymore.” he ran his hands down his face, looking up. “Why did I even take Arithmancy?” he asked himself as you laughed, took his arm and pulled him forward. He didn’t want to cooperate, so he just fell flat on the books. “I’m taking a nap.”

“You’re not taking a nap.” you shook him by his broad shoulders but he didn’t budge, only nuzzled closer in his arms. You walked around him, grabbed his head, and forced it up. It immediately fell back down. “You’re going to finish this stupid algorithm and when you do this will all be over and I’ll take you for ice cream.”

His head shot up, the back of it hitting your chin and letting you fall backward. “Ice cream?!” he turned to you and found you laying on the floor. “Oh, shite.” he laughed and stood up to help you get up. “You alright?”

“You have one hard skull for someone whose head is quite empty.” you teased, rubbing your chin as he let out a laugh.

“Who says it’s not filled with hay?”

“I don’t think hay would help.” you kept rubbing your chin as you sat down. He sat down as well, noticing your pink socks with white stars.

“Seriously, what’s with you and kooky socks?” he lifted an eyebrow.

“Don’t judge.” you put one foot on the table and pulled your sock up. “My nana bought them for Christmas.”

“And you actually wear them?”

“And you actually wear the grotesque jumpers your mum makes you for Christmas?”

“They are quite comfortable if you must know.” he pressed his lower lip out and crossed his arms. “Plus, people don’t mix us up when George and I wear those jumpers. It a good holiday.”

“How can they not separate the two of you?”

“Oh, and you can?!” he scoffed.

“Of course, I can.” you scoffed back, mimicking his position.

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“Well, it’s easy. You’re more annoying looking.” you teased and he gasped, touching his heart in the act of hurt. “Plus his walk is clumsier than yours. I can spot you a mile away with your pompous smirk and your puffed-out chest.”

“So, you’re stalking me.” he leaned forward, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No. Your ego is so big, it’s hard to miss you.”

“So you think I’m pretty.” he kept avoiding you, getting closer to you.

The two of you were now only an inch apart, watching each other with a dreamboat gaze, holding it, and not breaking away. You could see the green in his eyes despite the fact they always looked brown to you. He had a black line outlining the colour and a few yellow spots all around the iris. He watched you back, noticing your pupil stretching, then contracting very slowly before stretching again quite fast. He felt a sudden pleasure in his body just by looking into your eyes and his mind traveled far into the clouds, imagining just what would it be like kissing those rosy lips that smelled like berry bubblegum.

When the door of the library opened, letting out a creak both of you broke the gaze and looked at the door. It was just a group of Ravenclaws and as they saw both of you at the table, one of them lifted their hand and waved at you. You waved back at the Ravenclaw and smiled at him.

You used to tutor him as well but you never told anybody because you promised you wouldn’t.

Fred was glaring at the boy who left as soon as he came. He didn’t like someone else having your attention. Not after he had it so close to himself not a while ago. He felt an uncomfortable feeling bubble in his stomach but he buried it inside, just as the greedy thoughts of you that kept roaming his mind.

“You okay?” you touched his arm gently as you saw him drift away.

He looked at your hand touching his bare arm, feeling a warm feeling spread from his arm to the rest of his body. He looked up at you, seeing he had your attention and not the Ravenclaw before. He smiled and nodded. “Let’s go finish this.” ‘

He didn’t know why was he so flustered just by thinking of you but he can remember that after two weeks of tutoring, he has grown to realize you are not as half as bad as he thought you would be.

There was one thing that couldn’t get to his head.

You made him laugh.

He was so used to making other people laugh but when the two of you went to sneak into the kitchen for some ice cream and eat all the stress away, you made him laugh all the time. It wasn’t rude or cruel jokes but you were just funny- simple as that. You told the funniest stories and the two of you kept creating inside jokes, causing him to realize that you might even be funnier than him.

And besides all of the fun and the jokes, you could hit a serious subject and talk about it for the longest time.

Or he would start teasing and flirting with you but it would always be him ending with a blush, rarely you.

“Everything alright, Mr. Weasley?” the professor asked as he saw Fred not even write his name on the paper.

Fred looked up with a smile and nodded. “Everything is just fine.” he answered before starting to write down the answers.

---

The two of you haven’t talked much since the exams were over. You didn’t hear from Fred at all since he seemed to be always busy with Quidditch practices.

It was an agreement. You help him get his grades up, he helps you with Charms and you get a great recommendation letter after graduation. It was as simple as that. Then both of you leave on your separate ways.

But deep inside it hurt you to know that you didn’t want him and you go on your own separate ways...

You were completely lost in your thoughts when Fred passed by in his Quidditch uniform. He forgot his knee pads, so he quickly ran to get them. On his way to the final Quidditch match, he saw your bright turquoise socks from a mile away walking towards the intersection. He felt gleeful when he saw you. He never told you he passed all his exams and didn’t find the time to thank you for your tremendous help.

It was only that his buried feelings made him cross the courtyard and make a shortcut to you. His feet carried him lightly and just when you looked up he was already crashing into you with open arms. He lifted you up and spun you around.

You wrapped your arms around him and let out a giggle. “Hey there, stranger.”

“I passed all my exams thanks to you.” he mumbled in your neck, breathing in your perfume and smelling a mix of berry bubblegum.

He put you down gently, letting his hands remain on your hips.

There it was again. That dreamboat eyes looking at you and locking themselves on you. “You don’t think I forgot about you, did you?” he wiggled his eyebrows and gave you a cheeky grin.

You felt your stomach do a flip and your cheeks grow as red as his hair. “Well, you sure made it feel like you did.”

“Well, I didn’t.” he stepped closer and pressed his nose against yours, slowly moving in with his lips until they gently touched yours. You knotted his jersey in your palms and pulled him in a deeper, firm kiss. His arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he lifted you from the ground, so he could kiss you more tenderly. It was a sexual yet slow kind of kiss, where he could feel your body melt into his. It felt so perfect with you; every time his tongue felt yours, his brain lit on fire and when he wanted to pull away to get some air, he only deepened the kiss. The two of you fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“You’re going to miss your match.” you pulled away smiling and breathing in long breaths.

He smiled as his eyes kept themselves on your lips. He moved to kiss them, more delicate this time, pulling away slowly and sensually, letting the taste of your lips linger on his before gently kissing the bottom of your lip, the corner of your lip, and then your cheek. “I know but I’ve been meaning to do this for a long time.” he pressed his nose against yours and smiled. “For a really long time.”

“What stopped you?” you pulled away, looking into his eyes.

“I don’t know.” he answered softly and honestly. “But I do know I want to kiss you every chance I can get.”

“You asking me on a date, Red’?” your hands ran up his chest, playing with the goggles around his neck.

“I’d be a fool not to.”

“Yes, you would.” you pulled him in one last kiss, pushing him away and showing him forwards. “Now go to your Quidditch match. You’re late.”

“For a good reason.” he started running down the hall, turning at the intersection and stopping. He made a large pink bubble and winked just before he disappeared around the corner.

Your eyes went wide and you immediately searched for the bubblegum in your mouth. Unfortunately, it wasn’t there anymore so to replace it, you pulled out your a piece of bubblegum and chewed on it.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader

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2ynjns · 3 years

Text

clueless || choi beomgyu

day 22 of 31 days of christmas with ydale

pairings: beomgyu x reader

genre: professor!au, ta!au, office love typa thang, angst to fluff

warnings: cursing, characters are of legal age, beomgyu would be in his late 20’s in this story and the reader would be around 3-4 years younger.

this is your 54th out of 83 essays you’re grading and you didn’t know whether to curse at yourself or to your professor and blame it on him that he procrastinated on grading these finals papers for his writing class and now he’s making you do all of it and demanded you to finish grading by tonight since the student’s grades needed to be published tomorrow by noon.

you sighed and lightly cursed in your head while scrolling through the essay on your computer, why were you even assigned to be his teacher’s aid for fucks sake. you hated the fact that you’re still in your office, next door to his, grading his stupid papers for him on a winter break night.

if not because of him, you’d probably be at your apartment and enjoying baking sugar cookies and drinking wine while watching home alone in your living room. but no, professor choi really had to ruin it for you.

“goddamnit choi beomgyu, i fucking hate you.” you cursed under your breath.

it’s already almost 8 o’clock at night and you just want to go home. you wanted to rest your tired brain from reading rushed, sucky, student papers. you just wanted to plead professor choi to ask for an extension because your brain is about to give up on you.

you proceeded to give the student a B- on their paper and was about to pull up the 55th file when you heard a knock on your office door.

you gave off a deep breath before rolling your eyes and finally speaking. “come in.” you said with no enthusiasm. your eyes still fixed on the paper you’re about to grade as you pulled up your binder to record the student’s grade.

“hey, y/n. it’s me, professor kang.” you looked at his direction and gave off a bright smile. professor kang is another english professor and he’s your favorite professor, you wished that you were his teacher’s aid but he didn’t need one, which made you upset by the way and you were stuck with professor choi.

“oh, good evening professor kang, how can i help you?” you bowed and pointed at the chair in front of your desk. he just raised his hands to indicate that he didn’t need to at all.

“no need, i’ll be quick. just wanted to let you know professor choi asked for an extension on grading until tomorrow midnight. you don’t need to rush on grading them.” he said. you raised your brow and sat on your chair again.

“alright. but where’s professor choi?” you asked. he just gave you a teasing grin and crossed his arm, exposing his arm and shoulder muscles under his folded dress shirt. okay, you knew you shouldn’t thirst on your bosses, but you couldn’t help but to drool, especially with how attractive professor kang is.

“why are you looking for him, huh?” he teased.

you felt your blood rush through your face and wave your hands out of reflex. “oh! no, no. i was just-- you know, wondering since he should be the one telling me since i’m his ta, not yours-- not in a bad way just--”

you were cut off by professor kang’s laugh which caused you to feel startled.

“no pressure, y/n. well, that’s the thing too, he’s getting ready to leave. he’s actually inviting you to a little christmas dinner tonight. and no, you can’t refuse.” he lifted his index finger before you could even say anything else, he smiled and walked towards the door. “you should pack it up too, beomgyu’s waiting for you outside.” he finally walked out and closed the door behind him.

you cringed at the thought of your professor bringing you to dinner, okay maybe if it was professor kang asking you out for dinner you wouldn’t say no at all. but you were invited by the professor you despise the most.

professor choi isn’t actually that bad, he’s good looking, fit, tall and lovely. he’s just lazy as hell and unorganized, leaving all the work to you and most of the students complain to you about how unorganized he is and how slow he grades assignments.

you saved all the files you worked on and turned off the computer. you grabbed your purse and wore your black coat and headed out of your office.

you were immediately greeted by professor beomgyu who is wearing his glasses, which made him look more attractive by the way, while texting on his phone and standing in front of your office door.

you bowed and smiled, “good evening professor choi.” you said, you were about to leave and go ahead of him but he was too fast to notice and called you to come back.

“that wasn’t very professional of you, y/n.” he said in a teasing tone. you immediately stopped walking and held on to your purse tighter than before. you turned your head and glanced at him, he is now walking towards you, fixing his collar.

that made your blush and sweat a bit, the sexual tension between you and the professor are greater than before so you looked away and cleared your throat.

“i’m sure taehyun informed you that i’m taking you to dinner tonight.” he said, walking past you. you stood in awe and couldn’t say a thing nor move at all. he walked towards the elevator and whipped his head, “you’re not coming?” he asked with his brows raised.

“i- i am.” you said and walked closer to him, not awfully close, just close to where you’re standing next to him while avoiding the tension between you both.

you both rode the elevator in awkwards silence, only hearing your loud, pounding heart beat while looking at the elevator buttons. beomgyu on the other hands just kept checking his wrist watch and tapping his shoe on the floor.

beomgyu opened the car door for you as you get in his black mercedez-benz. he closed the door after you got in, giving you just enough time to take a deep breathe before experiencing the same tension again throughout the car ride.

you hated the unsettling feeling since you didn’t know why there’s a tensed environment between you and beomgyu. you tried avoiding the feeling by just looking outside the window and fiddling on the hem of your coat but that doesn’t seem to help at all.

beomgyu took a glance at you while you fidget awkwardly on your seat. he chuckled at the sight and couldn’t help but to find you adorable that you still feel uncomfortable around him despite working for him for about a year now.

although his left hand was on the steering wheel, he went to reach his right hand for your hand, which startled you, and squeezed it. “you don’t need to feel tense around me,” he said.

you quickly whipped your head towards his direction with wide eyes. his eyes are still on the road. the veins on his arms are protruding and emphasized through his light blue dress shirt. you found the sight hotter than usual.

you wanted to slap yourself for fantasizing on beomgyu. although the man is four years older than you, given he’s almost 30 years old, he is still hot as if he’s in his early twenties. sometimes, you wonder why professor choi isn’t married yet, or doesn’t have a girlfriend or boyfriend at all. same goes for professor kang and their other professor friends like professor yeonjun or daniel, professor soobin and professor huening. they’re literally the hottest professor in the university and the usual talk of students and staff, thirsting over them nonstop.

you turned your gaze away and blew air on your face, still feeling his hands over yours. he intertwined his fingers with yours and you wanted to scream because of that.

you looked at him and bit your lips.

“why?” you asked. he took a quick look at you with his brows raised. “what do you mean?” he asked back.

“why are you taking me to dinner? at eight at night.” emphasizing the word dinner and night. really eager to find the answer. he chuckled and rubbed his thumb over yours.

“simple, i wanted to thank you for your hard work, and it’s almost christmas.” he simply said, steering the wheel to the right to park the car.

you looked at your intertwined hands and lifted it. “then what is this?” you asked.

beomgyu turned off the car and looked at you, his lips curled and he moved his head closer to you. he looked at your hand and kissed it. “it’s because i like you.”

your face blushed from his action, you wanted to melt in the moment but you couldn’t. he giggled and squeezed your cheeks.

“you’re really clueless aren’t you?” he teased. you backed away and untangled his hands from yours. your hands met your face to cover out of shame and turned away.

“what the hell, professor!” you squealed under your breath. he took out your hands from your face and looked at you.

“hey look at me, i know i’ve been an ass for the past year and giving you all the work. i want to apologize and fix it before it’s too late. and i promise i’ll help you grade the papers tomorrow.” he said and caressed your cheeks. “and i know how much you adore professor kang more than you adore me, but let me change your mind this time. taehyun isn’t really worth your adoration at all.”

“Wha- are you jealous? wait, since when?” you wanted to burst.

he looked up and pretended to think, “well, yes, i may be jealous of professor kang since you drool over him, even though he just stands there and breathe… uhm, been liking you since a month after you started working for me. so since then i gave you most of the work possible so i could just watch you from my office while you struggle and do all the work for me.”

you squinted and gave him a playful punch. “you’re such an asshole, choi beomgyu.” you hissed.

he smiled and held your hand again. “i know. also, professor daniel’s ta told me you’ve been wanting to be brought to a christmas dinner date, so i figured taking you to one as our first ever date would be… ideal.” he said.

you smiled like an idiot before wrapping your hands around his neck.

“It’s more than ideal.”

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prayedtoyou · 4 years

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overrated - read it on ao3

<< when you get home, will you help me with a project?

>> sure thing. i have to stop by the gas station on my way back, want anything?

<< yeah, grab me some of those chocolate covered raisins that i like

>> you got it. see you in 15

Dean had plans to go home after his three classes of the day to watch Netflix with his hand in his pants and eat pepper jack Cheez-Its until his stomach hurt, but he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to cancel those plans to help out his roommate for a few hours. Dean doesn’t often interrupt plans with himself, especially on a day where he doesn’t have any homework and he doesn’t have to show up for a shift at the salvage yard, but Cas is someone Dean doesn’t mind giving up a few luxuries for.

Dean met Cas in their Design 101 class during freshman year. It was nothing more than a foundation class, one that Dean and Cas had to take in pursuit of their BFA degrees in film and television, and photography, respectively. Dean expected to jack off to the course by flirting with the fellow classmates while still paying just enough attention to pass the class and turn in projects and assignments on time, but when Cas started sitting next to him in the third week of the semester and heckled him about listening to the professor and taking better notes, Dean really started to buckle down and take it a little more seriously.

They’ve been friends ever since. They had late night study sessions during their first year when they were only an elevator ride away from each other’s dorm rooms. Their first college summer was mostly spent at the Biggerson’s just off SCAD’s campus where Cas served tables; Dean would come in to bother him, drink coffee, and take advantage of the free WiFi. They found an apartment they could barely afford just south of the metro area and moved in a week before the new school year started. They still have that same apartment.

This was to Charlie’s disappointment, at first. She had suggested moving in together before Cas had and Dean had been on the fence about it. He loved Charlie, they got along, she understood his nerdy references, they had similar taste in women--but he had been holding out for another photography major to make his move. She quickly forgave him when she met and later moved in with her girlfriend, Dorothy.

There was just something about Cas that set him apart from Dean’s other friends. It might have to do with how passionate Cas was about his classes and major; since sixth grade, he’s known that he would grow up to be a photographer for National Geographic so he could travel the world and take pictures of all his favorite creatures. Or it might have to do with his sense of humor--a little dark and always just flirtatious enough to make Dean wonder just how serious he is and whether or not he should laugh or take him up on his offers.

More than likely, though, it has to do with how attractive he is, how his smile is so bright it puts the sun to shame, how his laugh makes Dean’s heart swell up like a helium balloon, how he’s intelligent and eloquent, but also absolutely clueless about a lot of stuff Dean considers to be required life knowledge. Does most of that knowledge revolve around Star Wars, Back to the Future, and Indiana Jones movie references? Yes, but that’s beside the point.

And that’s what led Dean to living with the guy for going on three years, to spending entire days dedicated to showing Cas his favorite movies and shows, to picking up dark chocolate Raisinets on his way home from school, to walking into their apartment and calling out Cas’s name just like Ricky Ricardo.

Cas shouts back from the opposite side of the apartment where their bedrooms are. Dean finds Cas in his room, furniture pushed away from one wall and replaced with Cas’s favorite reading chair from the living room (that old, forest-green armchair that Cas found at an antique store on the Savannah River that Dean verbally hated, but secretly used when Cas wasn’t around because it’s about the most comfortable thing in the world), and a camera set up on a tripod facing the chair. Cas is wearing that white button down that looks especially good against the tan he got over the summer, the one that matches Dean’s after they spent several long days on Tybee Island right before their senior year started.

“So, what’s the project?” Dean asks, handing over the box of Raisinets. He curses at himself for forgetting to get a snack of his own while he was out.

Cas takes the box with a smile. “Thanks, Dean. This one is based on touch and what emotions it brings out in us, but we can’t have more than one subject in the shot. So, I need you to put this on.” Cas reaches out and drops a small black object into Dean’s palm.

It’s… a tube of lipstick.

“Uh, Cas? I thought we’ve established that I’m not really much of a model.”

Cas rolls his eyes, no doubt remembering the arguments they had on the river walk during their second year when Cas tried to shoot Dean for an assignment that ended up with them deciding that Dean would stick with filming and Cas would recruit performing arts majors to be his models. “I know, I'm not taking pictures of you, you’re taking pictures of me. I already have the camera focused and everything, you just need to put that on, give me a few kisses, and snap some pictures.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits. “K-kisses?”

“Yeah. I’m using lipstick kisses to represent my past relationships and how I feel about them touching me. Just cheek and forehead kisses. We’re not going to be Frenching or anything.”

“Oh.” Dean looks down at the lipstick, caught somewhere between disappointment and relief, wondering if it would be better or worse if these kisses were meant for Cas’s lips instead of the rest of his face. Would it even be right of him to take Cas up on this offer when he already fantasizes about putting kisses all over Cas’s skin? Would it be wrong for their first kisses to be over some project? “I don’t know how I feel about this, Cas.”

“About what, kissing me? They’re not even real kisses, you just have to pucker up like you're kissing your mom.”

Dean chews on his lip. Would it be so bad to take advantage of the situation and indulge in something he’s wanted since their second semester together? Shouldn’t he be a good friend and roommate and help Cas with his project, no matter the requirements?

Cas must see the uncertainty in Dean’s expression because he continues with, “Come on, Dean, we’re graduating next semester, we’re practically professionals. Are you really going to be embarrassed about a little lipstick when you could be filming HBO sex scenes a year from now?”

Dean looks back up at Cas. If he’s going to insist, who is Dean to tell him no? “Alright, asshole, I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

Cas smiles wide and, damn, Dean would wear lipstick every day if it meant Cas would look at him like that. “Okay, there’s a mirror behind you. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just put some on and lay it on me.”

Dean turns to find Cas’s mirror hung up with his portfolio. Photos are hung, tacked, and taped up from vacations, day trips, school projects, and family holidays. Dean is up there a few times: laughing on the opposite side of the table from Cas at Biggerson’s, a selfie of the two of them under the unflattering flash of a smartphone in a dark movie theater, the only good shot Cas got of Dean that day on the river walk, Dean asleep on the couch with a book folded up in his arms like a teddy bear.

Dean didn’t even know Cas took that last one.

He puts on the lipstick, ignoring the photos of himself. It’s definitely not as easy as he thought it would be--staying inside the lines was something he’s improved upon since childhood, but crayons are a lot different from makeup. He manages to swipe the color onto his face, grimacing at the taste of it.

When he looks back at Cas, all he gets is a blank stare and a slight nod. Feeling less than confident with deep red lips, Dean steps up to the plate.

“Where do you want it?”

Dean can hear the click of Cas’s throat as he swallows. He raises a hand, pointing to the knob of his left cheekbone.

“Here.”

Dean steps just a little closer. Cas is about his height, maybe an inch shorter, but it’s not even noticeable when Dean tilts Cas’s face up with a finger and thumb gently pinching his chin. He leans in and--smells Cas’s shampoo, notices the pores on his nose, finds trimmed whiskers along his cheeks--presses his lips right where Cas wanted them.

With the lipstick, Dean can’t taste Cas’s skin, but he can smell the face wash where his nose is sticking into Cas’s temple. Like pomegranates.

When he pulls away, he knows he’s blushing, but he has no way of hiding it, so he just smiles and says, “That’s a good color for you.”

Cas, a little pink himself, scoffs. “Just take the picture, Taylor Swift.”

Cas takes his seat, Dean steps behind the camera. He clicks the shutter button a few times, watching Cas’s face on the screen. He’s leaning his face up and slightly away, lips parted, eyes cast toward the door instead of the lense. It’s a great angle to show off that jawline of his.

Dean was never destined to be a model, but Cas looks just as good in photos as he does in real life. He knows exactly how to position himself, which light to use, how his face should look. He could model, if he ever wanted. Dean asked him if he would star in a short film Dean had to film, but Cas just laughed and said if he wanted to act he would have gone into performing arts.

“That should be enough,” Cas notes, and Dean realizes that he had taken way too many photos while thinking about Cas’s face. He backs away from the camera. “I’ll need a fresh layer for each kiss, so apply some more lipstick.”

Dean does as he’s told and goes back to Cas to kiss him again. This time it’s just above Cas’s right eyebrow. They go on like this a handful more times, until Cas has lipstick stains across his entire face. Each time feels like the first, and Dean has a harder and harder time removing his lips from Cas’s skin as they progress through the photos. Cas doesn’t seem to be as phased--he sits right down and assumes his pose. In each and every picture, Cas mostly just looks sad.

“Why do you look like that?” Dean finally asks after the sixth kiss, snapping pictures.

Cas unfurrows his brow and looks up from the floor. “Like what?”

“Like your dog just died.”

Cas cracks a small smile. “These kisses represent each of my exes and how I felt about my relationships with them.”

“They were all that bad?”

“They certainly weren’t good. After being cheated on, left for someone else, and dumped over text, I don’t exactly have fond memories of most of these people.”

“I remember when that dickhead Balth slept with that web designer. You didn’t leave the house for a week.”

“You took me to the Atlanta Aquarium and pointed at all the ugliest fish and said they looked like him.”

“And I was right. ”

When Cas smiles broadly, Dean sneaks in another picture. The shutter of the lense gives him away, but Cas doesn’t mention it.

“Remember when I watched 500 Days of Summer eight times in two days?” Cas asks. “That’s because Hannah kept telling me she didn’t want a relationship and ended up leaving me for someone who she got engaged to after five months.”

Dean chuckles low under his breath. “Yeah, I remember. I had to force you into the shower and then we went out for burgers.”

“And when Gadreel drunk texted me all the things he hated about me--”

“We toilet papered his frat house and went to a baseball game the next day. We got so sunburnt.”

Cas laughs at the memory and Dean captures it with the camera. He looks so much better like this, happy and covered in kisses from someone who actually cares about him. He deserves to be this happy for the rest of his life.

Cas sobers up and looks at Dean. His expression is soft, something closer to adoration than anything else. Dean wonders if he’s just amused by the makeup.

“You were always there for me, Dean.”

Since Dean can’t take a compliment to save his life, he shrugs it off. “I was just trying to be a good friend. You did the same for me when Lisa and I broke up.”

They go quiet for a moment. Dean reflects back on the two weeks after their break up. Dean was drinking daily, taking whiskey in a travel mug to his classes, going to bars at night, falling asleep on the couch with a bottle in his hands. It took Cas several tries to get him out of his rut, first by asking Dean what was wrong, then by requesting that he eat something solid, and finally by whacking him with his rolled up yoga mat until Dean cleaned himself up and changed into some fresh clothes.

Dean had grumbled about it for a few days, but it was just what he needed. He couldn’t mope around forever and fall into a pit of alcoholism just because his year-long girlfriend finally got fed up with his shit. Cas spent extra time with him that month, changing his schedule and cancelling plans to hang out or do homework in the same room as him, occasionally reaching out to lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder or knocking their feet together to remind him that he wasn’t alone. It helped tremendously.

The worst part wasn’t losing Lisa, it was coming to terms with everything he had been trying to deny since he was seventeen. His attraction to men was something he first noticed when a new kid came to his high school and he fell for the linebacker build and honey-sweet Cajun accent. But after dating women exclusively his whole life, the last thing he wanted was for Cas to feel like some sort of experiment.

“What happened? With Lisa. You never told me.”

Cas catches his eye, but Dean directs his gaze away quickly, suddenly finding the curves of the camera very interesting.

“I, um… I wasn’t very good to her. I was kind of using her to get past a crush I had on someone, but it didn’t go away and she said she couldn’t keep living like that. Like she was competing to be my girlfriend. I don’t blame her one bit, she was right to leave me. I just thought, if it was just a crush, it wouldn’t be a problem once I was with someone else, but when I couldn’t stop liking them…”

Dean chances a look at Cas, who looks just as sad as he had in those pictures. His eyes are wide and it almost looks comical with all the lipstick kisses on his face.

“I realized it was more than just some crush,” Dean finishes lamely.

Every part of him wants to tell Cas. But what would be the point? The two of them will graduate and Cas will become the next most famous National Geographic photographer and Dean will be looking for work as a camera holder on low budget movies and shows that may or may not be cancelled halfway through filming. He could always turn to porn as a last resort, but he'll never make it as far as Cas and he’ll never make it with Cas.

In the beginning, he didn’t want to ruin their relationship. They worked well together, whether it was study sessions or getting back at exes or picking out mismatching furniture at second-hand stores. He worried about losing his friend. Now he doesn’t want to say anything because he knows he’s going to lose Cas one way or another, and it will hurt less if they don’t get involved with each other any more than they already are.

Cas takes a deep breath, processing the information. He searches the room. His eyes land back on the camera.

“I have one more shot to get.”

Dean blinks. It’s what he expected. It wouldn’t matter if Dean subtly tried to imply how in love he is with Cas or if he bluntly told him, he would always get the cold shoulder. It’s for the best, he tries to convince himself. Any other way would just end in a bigger heartbreak than necessary.

He turns back to the mirror. He finds the photo of him and Cas in the movie theater again. He can’t remember what movie they saw, but their faces are nearly touching and Dean’s arm is around Cas and he wishes more than anything that he’d taken the chance to kiss him back then. Because, what’s the quote? ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Does it count when Dean is, technically, in love, but just hasn’t voiced it yet?

With a new coat of lipstick, he faces Cas again. He’s standing in the middle of the room, right next to the camera, ready for his last kiss. Dean musters up all his fake confidence and closes the distance between them, standing just a little closer than he had before.

“And this time?” Dean asks.

Cas looks hesitant. Maybe he’s finally realizing that he should have chosen someone else to kiss him over and over again. Someone who he wouldn’t have to awkwardly live with afterwards. Someone who wouldn’t have made a straightforward project into something uncomfortable.

His hand comes up to his face. He points a single finger to his bottom lip.

“Here.”

Dean’s breath catches in his throat. He hunts for any sort of lie in Cas’s eyes, any indication that he didn’t want it, that he wanted to take it back. But Cas just looks right back at him, waiting, patient.

Dean fits the corner of Cas’s jaw into the center of his palm, runs his thumb across Cas’s cheek. A lipstick kiss smears under the pad of his finger, wiping into nothing but a blur, just like the memory of whichever lover that one was meant to be.

When their lips meet, Dean forgets about every single reason he didn’t let himself have this before. Everything in his head melts away until there’s just Cas and mouth and hands and Cas and Cas and Cas.

Cas doesn’t hold back. He grips Dean’s waist like a life raft in the middle of the ocean, opens his mouth and moans when Dean slips his tongue in. He takes everything Dean gives him. He moves his head aside when Dean trails his mouth along his jaw and down his neck, kissing and sucking and nipping at the skin. Dean pulls him closer, desperate to feel as much of Cas as he possibly can.

Dean feels like he’s shaking, or maybe vibrating, with need. Everything is tilting, moving, wavering around him. The lights could blow and he wouldn't even notice, he’s too wrapped up, too confused about which way is left or right.

Their mouths come together again and the world straightens out on its axis. They slow down, brushing their lips together the way pages of a book slide against one another. They take their time. They learn the way they move with each other.

Eventually, they part. Not to gasp for breath, but to rest their foreheads together; to align their hearts. Between them, Dean can smell Cas’s toothpaste and taste the lipstick.

“We should do projects together more often,” Dean concludes humorlessly.

“I think we should skip the projects and just make out,” Cas counters.

Dean pulls back to laugh quietly at Cas, but then sees his face. Cas is covered in lipstick, all around his mouth, his chin, across his jaw, down his neck. The makeup follows the patterns of Dean’s kisses, right down to where he had sucked Cas’s earlobe into his mouth.

He lets loose, practically wheezing at the state of Cas’s face. Dean’s must look similar, because Cas erupts into laughter too and they both sink into each other, bodies convulsing in their arms.

“Come on, come on. One more picture,” Cas begs, pulling out of Dean’s grasp and positioning himself on the chair. He couldn't wipe that smile off his face if he tried, and it looks like he isn’t putting in any effort at all to push it away.

Dean presses the shutter button three times, hoping at least one of them is a good shot, before diving around the camera to pull Cas into his embrace again.

The lipstick ends up on chests, wrist, bed sheets, and hips, but they don’t mind. They might even keep the tube for another time.

tags below the cut!

#destiel #fanfic #my work #destiel college au

176 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 4 years

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day 24: carnival

prompt from: cocktober pairing(s): felix x ace, dwight x steve, past felix x kate notes: i had a ton of fun with this one <3 thanks @razorvine for putting the idea of hot college professor felix in my head! warnings: implied internalized homophobia (aka felix has yet another gay panic) word count: 2680

Felix doesn’t remember when he’s last had this much fun.

Sure, he’s spent way more than he meant to on rigged carnival games and overpriced street food and only has a poorly made plushie and some heartburn to show for it.

But the company more than makes up for it.

Ace’s gaze is glued to the wheel of fortune, watching it spin with an eager smile that reminds Felix of a child waiting for Christmas. He doesn’t necessarily approve of his boyfriend’s gambling habits, but he’s not against it, either, not even dreaming of denying Ace when he gave Felix his best puppy eyes and assured “Just one round, I promise!”.

Predictably, the wheel doesn’t land on Ace’s number, but it doesn’t seem to phase him.

“It was worth a shot!” Ace grins. “Now give me back my cock.”

Felix snorts and obediently hands the rooster plushie back to its rightful owner, silently adding another tick to his mental tally of how many penis jokes the toy has inspired. That’s six, now.

“Where to next?” Felix asks, carefully clasping Ace’s hand.

The bright smile and reassuring squeeze he gets in return is enough to calm his resurfacing nerves. This is the first time they’re in public together as a couple, and Felix isn’t even out yet, nor is his divorce finalized. They were supposed to go as just friends, Ace reassuring him he didn’t mind, insisting Felix needed to get out and enjoy himself after the stress of grading midterms and filing for divorce.

And even though Felix still feels a little anxious, the carnival spirit had hit him hard, and he found himself laughing and joking and playing childish games without restraint. Having Ace by his side was just so nice, and he’d realized they hadn’t even been on a proper date before.

When he’d grabbed Ace’s hand after they made absolute fools of themselves at the water gun stall, more focused on soaking each other than hitting the actual targets, it had felt new and scary but also right. From then on, it only became easier, lingering touches on his boyfriend’s shoulder or a casual arm around his hip, even daring to share a secretive kiss behind one of the tents.

“What about the ferris wheel?” Ace suggests, a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you’re nice I’ll even let you pet my cock.”

Seven.

“Oh no, I just remembered I’m afraid of heights,” Felix teases. “Looks like you and your cock will have to fly solo.”

Eight.

To think that just a few hours ago, he was nervous to even be seen in public with Ace, and now he’s holding his hand in the middle of a crowd and making sexual innuendos.

“Oh, what’s that?” Ace jokes, lifting the toy up to his ear. “Apparently, he’s bored of my attention and likes yours so much more,” his boyfriend purrs.

The ridiculous display shouldn’t make Felix blush but it does, suddenly feeling a little hot under the collar, awkwardly clearing his throat while trying to fight the flush creeping up his neck.

“Why don’t we get something to drink?” he suggests, noticing how dry his throat seems to be.

“Getting a little thirsty?” Ace smirks but, thankfully, drops the line of conversation that is very much not appropriate for a family event like this.

They have some trouble locating a food stall that doesn’t have a mile-long line but that’s alright with Felix, already feeling calmer as they leisurely explore the carnival grounds together. Felix points out some games he wants to try later and Ace half-heartedly tries to talk him into another round of the fortune wheel, and it’s a much needed break from hiding their relationship and worrying about the future.

Felix idly wonders when they’ll get to do this again. The carnival is taking place two towns over, which is one of the main reasons he agreed to come, knowing that the chances of bumping into someone he knows are slim. His social circle isn’t very big, but it’s mostly the school his worried about; running into colleagues or students wouldn’t necessarily put his career in danger, but it would make the rumors spread like wildfire. He’d rather keep his personal life private, at least until the divorce is finalized.

Luckily, the crowd has been nothing but unfamiliar faces the entire evening and he has nothing to worry about, at least for now. He grips Ace’s hand tighter as his boyfriend stops to finally look at a map after their aimless wandering, and he kind of wants to pull him in for a quick kiss, even in front of all these people.

Ace flashes him a bright smile before turning back to the map, oblivious to Felix’s intentions. Feeling his heart rate pick up, Felix swallows, looking around one last time to make sure nobody is watching—

And locking eyes with one of his students.

Felix freezes completely, not even realizing to let go of Ace’s hand, staring at the familiar young man in shock while Ace prattles on about something he saw on the map.

Felix doesn’t know whether the situation is made better or worse by the fact that it’s a student he actually likes. Dwight isn’t the top of his class by any means, but he’s hard-working and polite and Felix’s heart broke the one time he had to inform him he was about to fail a class. He’d hurried to offer additional assignments to get him a passing grade and Dwight had looked like he was about to cry from relief, profusely thanking him and apologizing over and over.

He doubts Dwight dislikes him, especially after that incident, but Felix is also pretty sure the entire school knows he’s married to the music teacher. Kate’s students love her and he’s already received a few hostile glares from sharp-eyed students who have either noticed their missing rings or maybe even asked Kate about it.

It feels like time itself slows down to a crawl as Dwight very obviously looks between Felix and his boyfriend. When his eyes widen in clear surprise, Felix stops breathing. This is it, it’s all over, tomorrow the entire school is going to know—

And then Dwight offers a small smile and a meaningful nod before turning back to his friend who looks to be engrossed in a game of ring toss. Felix lets out a sigh of relief and feels the tension leave his body. That was close.

“You okay?” Ace asks with a worried frown, and it’s only then Felix realizes how sweaty his palm is.

“Yeah, I…” Felix says, momentarily letting go of Ace’s hand to wipe his own on his pants. “Thought I saw someone. It’s fine.”

“We can leave if you want,” Ace says, always incredibly understanding of Felix’s anxiety. “Call it a night and watch one of those shitty slasher movies you like?”

Felix’s heart feels like it’s getting torn in different directions. His nerves are frazzled from the subconscious stress and the close call of getting outed against his will, but at the same time it’s the best day he’s had in years and he’s getting so, so tired of hiding.

Ace has been way more understanding than Felix deserves, patiently waiting for him to fumble his way through his first relationship with a man. There has been zero pressure from Ace’s side, other than ending things with Kate before things went further because “I’m a pretty shitty person, but not that shitty”. Ace had let him take things at his own pace, not making a big deal out of Felix’s clothes appearing in an empty drawer in his apartment or Felix’s toothbrush making a permanent stay next to his own.

And if the only thing Felix could do without freaking out was to hold his boyfriend’s hand in public, he’d sure as hell do it at every opportunity from now on.

“I’m alright,” Felix says with newfound determination, taking the inviting hand back in his own and intertwining their fingers. “I want to stay.”

He leaves out the “with you” and “forever” parts of the sentence. That will have to come later.

“Okay,” Ace agrees, though he still doesn’t look entirely convinced. “But it’s a standing offer. We can bail whenever you feel like it.”

The consideration melts away the last of Felix’s tension from the Dwight incident. He’s never understood how Ace can be so easy-going, expertly reading the room and always adapting with a smile on his face. Felix doesn’t even realize he’s been leaning closer until Ace’s smile widens into a roguish grin, tilting his head up and waiting for Felix to kiss him—

”Mr. Richter!”

Felix flinches away and reflexively drops Ace’s hand like burned, not missing the hurt flashing across his boyfriend’s face before it’s covered up by a pleasant smile. God, why is he like this, he can’t do anything right—

“Mr. Richter! Over here!” the voice is getting louder and Felix grits his teeth and turns to acknowledge its owner.

He sees another of his students, the Harrington kid, excitedly running over to him with a mortified Dwight hot on his heels.

“I thought it was you, dude! Good to see you!” Steve grins happily and Felix can’t find it in himself to be mad over a student just so genuinely happy to talk to him.

And then he realizes the consequences of this particular student seeing him in public with a man.

Steve isn’t a bad kid, but he is somewhat of a troublemaker, thankfully calming down a little after switching from a bad crowd to Dwight’s group of friends. But it’s not a harmless prank or poorly timed joke or interruption of a lecture that Felix is worried about.

It’s Steve’s absolute inability to keep his mouth shut.

“Hello Steve, Dwight,” Felix nods politely to them both, trying not to let it show that he’s screaming on the inside. He feels a little better when Dwight gives him an apologetic look from behind his friend and mouths a “sorry”.

“Hi, Mr. Richter,” Dwight says, hurriedly pulling on Steve’s arm. “We’ll just be on our way—”

“Where’s the missus?” Steve asks with a grin, peering behind Felix as if expecting Kate to appear out of thin air, and Felix clenches his fists and tries not to freak out even more than he already is. What the hell is he even supposed to answer to that?

“Oh, are you students of his?” Ace butts in, saving Felix’s sanity.

“Yeah, we’re in his physics classes!” Steve exclaims.

“Ah, taking a well-deserved break after midterms?” Ace effortlessly starts making casual conversation. “I’ve heard the physics teacher is a real hardass.”

“W-well, I think he’s really fair,” Dwight stammers, giving Felix a nervous glance.

“I mean yeah, he’s pretty strict but he also makes sure everyone understands, even if they’re a complete dingus,” Steve says and looks at Felix with a happy little grin. A tinge of pride blooms in his chest, always enjoying hearing his students compliment his work ethic.

There’s a beat of silence and Felix realizes everyone’s waiting for him to say something.

“This is Ace,” Felix starts, hesitating on how to introduce him.

“Hi, boys,” Ace hurries to take over, once again saving Felix from his inner turmoil. “Good to meet you.”

“Hey, man!” Steve greets cheerily. Then his eyes flick to the toy in Ace’s hands. “Nice cock.”

Ace barks out a hearty laugh while Felix chokes on his own spit and Dwight’s face goes beet red.

…Nine?

“Steve!” Dwight hisses in embarrassment while Steve just snickers.

“What? It’s a cool plushie!” Steve protests innocently.

“I like you, kid,” Ace grins in approval, before turning to Felix. “Why don’t I go grab us those drinks while you guys catch up?”

Felix gives him a wide-eyed look that simultaneously screams “please don’t leave me” and “please go away before I accidentally kiss you in front of my students”.

“Okay,” he manages with an unstable voice, not sure how he’ll survive Steve’s questions without Ace’s help, but knowing that splitting up will make them seem less conspicuous. Ace gives him a reassuring smile and turns to leave—

“Hold on, I’ll go with you!” Steve exclaims and Felix swears he hears Dwight mutter an exasperated “fuck”.

Ace looks at Steve in surprise before glancing at Felix, and when he doesn’t protests because he’s too busy internally panicking, Ace gives a one-shoulder shrug.

“Sure! It’ll be nice to have company in the three-hour line,” Ace grins.

“Cool!” Steve returns the smile, before turning to Dwight. “You want something, babe?”

…Hold on. “Babe”?

“N-no, I’m good, thanks,” Dwight stammers, face flushing red and fidgeting awkwardly. “I’ll wait here.”

“Alright, see you soon!” Steve offers with a goofy grin before leaving into the sea of people with Ace.

Felix stares after them for a few seconds too long before finally looking at Dwight, mouth opening and closing and not quite figuring out what to say.

“Okay, look, I’m—” Dwight nervously breaks the silence. “I’m so sorry about Steve, he just… really, really wanted to say hi, I don’t think he realized what he was—um, interrupting,” Dwight’s face somehow flushes even redder and Felix clears his throat, feeling heat rise on his own cheeks. “We’ll be out of your hair as soon as he gets back. Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Felix lies, because he knows neither boy meant any harm and doesn’t want them to feel bad. “Can you… could you keep this to yourselves?”

“Oh! Of course!” Dwight hurries to reassure. “I, um, I know what it’s like. Steve used to have a girlfriend, and it took a while before he was ready to—err. You probably don’t care about any of that, sorry,” Dwight realizes, looking down at the ground in shame.

Felix does care, in fact he’s downright curious how the pair managed to deal with the situation, but he doesn’t know how to convey that without crossing the line of professionalism. Damnit, if only Ace was here—

“It’s just… You don’t have to worry about us telling anyone,” Dwight continues. “I-I’m sorry we, like. Invaded your privacy like this.”

“I suppose I could say the same,” Felix says. “I never knew you were a couple. I’ll be sure not to tell anyone.”

“Yeah, it’s… not necessarily a secret, anymore, but… thanks,” Dwight offers him a nervous smile. “Not everyone knows, and we’re cool with that.”

Relief floods over Felix as he realizes his secret is safe, at least for now. It never fails to amaze him just how mature his students can be, dealing with the exact same life problems as adults his age, and it just reminds him of why he became a teacher in the first place.

“Do you want to sit down while we wait?” Felix suggests, spotting a nearby bench that miraculously seems to be unoccupied. Dwight responds with a nod and a friendly smile, and soon they’re sitting down and making pleasant small talk about the carnival.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but… how did you meet?” Dwight asks cautiously after a while.

Felix knows he shouldn’t share his private life with a student, but he’s not on the clock and Dwight was the one to offer, seeming genuinely curious, so he starts talking.

And even if Felix ends up gushing about Ace like a schoolboy, Dwight doesn’t seem to care, adding cute “aww” comments and even sharing some of his best memories with Steve. Felix realizes it’s the first time he’s been able to openly talk about his relationship with someone who he knows won’t judge, and he feels like just a normal guy in a new relationship, hopeful and excited instead of anxious and paranoid like before.

And when their boyfriends eventually arrive with a lapful of food and drink and another rooster plushie, Ace making the tenth cock joke for the evening and Dwight chuckling while Steve laughs like a hyena, Felix feels like he's finally found a place where he belongs.

#riconti #cocktober #felix richter #ace visconti #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight #prompt #dbd fanfic #felix x ace

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 3 years

Note

That... Wow, yeah... You put it into words... This year has been so rough on my mental state that I'm seriously feeling like that right now. Especially since my grandfather passed away a few months ago my mental health has been declining big time and it's not getting any better. I feel like the last day of this year is when I'm going to die. But yet I don't...care... Every time I go to sleep I keep wishing that I don't wake up. And when I do in the morning I feel disappointed and depressed, like I wanted nothing else but to not wake up.

I often daydream every single time I step outside that I'll get in a car accident and die. Or some car will run me over. And I keep feeling more and more awful cause as my mental health is declining more and more I can't concentrate on drawing or writing. And my adhd brain is screaming at me that if I'm not constantly doing something in this fandom that I'm worthless. Im nothing. And it doesn't help that my hyperfixation of this fandom is dying out and I have nothing else to hyperfixate on. So I already feel like shit too.

And it keeps getting worse with no end in sight. I have no friends to express this to. My parents will think it's a joke and just brush it off like they have before. But thank you. I knew this was a sucidal thing but I didn't know there was a term for it. And it makes me feel better that I'm not the only person feeling this so thank you.

Aww, dear anon I wish nothing more than to offer you a hug and maybe some hot chocolate :(

I feel you, I really do. I’m glad that by sharing my experiences, it’s helped a bit. You’re truly not alone--regardless of what your brain might tell you. And it’s true that some people might not understand, but it’ll surprise you how many will understand. I want you to know that I think you’re incredibly brave for sharing your experiences with me. And I hope you prove yourself wrong by living to see New Year’s Day happen and many more days.

In regards to creating content, during the height of my suicidal ideation, I could not write. I really truly couldn’t. And it ate at me, because writing is my thing--if I’m not writing, what good am I? It was also extremely bad, because I was still taking classes and one of my classes was a creative writing class.

So uh, it was extremely important for my grades to be able to write. I couldn’t bring myself to either drop out or reach out to the professor with what was going on. I really wish I had. Maybe the professor would’ve been understanding. It was an online class and I kept waiting for the professor to be the one to say something about my missing assignments, to notice and reach out, but they didn’t. I got a F in that class. A F for something I’m extremely passionate about. A F for something you could argue I’m decent at.

And honestly, I still struggle with viewing writing as the only thing causes me to have value. As creators our writing/art can be something so intimate that we feel like it’s a part of us. And while it is, sorta, also it’s a separate entity, a tool we use to express ourselves. You are more than the writing/art you create. You have value outside of it, and it should not define all that you are.

You are not worthless if you aren’t constantly producing writing/art. Your worth isn’t measured by how much content you produce. By just existing, being on this planet, is value enough. The odds of you existing at all is infinitesimal. As a friend once told me, “You’re a human being, not a human doing. It’s okay sometimes to just be.”

Allow yourself a chance to heal. Take a mental breather from creating. No one expects an athlete to perform at their absolute best if they’re injured. They expect that athlete to take time off the field and heal before they go back out there.

By continuing to create when it’s causing pain will cause your brain to associate writing/art as something negative and unenjoyable. I know it’s hard, I know how it feels by not writing/drawing you cease to have worth, but pls consider it.

In regards to waking up--I often create task lists, because it helps me stay on target in the midst of adhd/depression fog. The first thing I always have at the top of my list is “Wake Up” it’s sorta silly, but y’know what? Waking Up is a big accomplishment. It’s not something you wanted to do. You could’ve laid in bed all day but you didn’t. You got up. That’s BIG. Recognize that.

If you ever want to reach out to me via askbox again or even DMs, please feel free to. I’d be happy to offer a listening ear and perhaps provide further encouragement should you need it. I’m rooting for ya <3

#kat answers #suicidal ideation #suicidal thoughts tw

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sincerelyreidburke · 4 years

Note

22 for Kai and Remy :))) they deserve good things

Another one!!! Toby, thank you. They absolutely do deserve good things.

“Who’s Kai?” Remy’s history major friend! See this post.

This is from this list of sappy prompts! If you’d like to see one, I’m definitely still taking them!

22. “You make me so happy.”

Remy isn’t completely freaking out over his schoolwork. It’s just that he’s not having the greatest afternoon. And he guesses his schoolwork is maybe one of the causes.

The problem is that freaking out about your schoolwork is stupid, especially when that schoolwork is already done. Or mostly done. He took a huge midterm exam in his gen ed philosophy class on Thursday, and then turned in a long essay for The Reformation on Friday, and then spent all of today— Saturday— doing work for his other two classes, and that’s it; that’s all, he’s pretty much finished. The problem is that right now, it’s four PM on a Saturday, and his friends have texted him a number of times, and the only thing he can find the energy to do is sit on the edge of his bed and worry about his grades.

He doesn’t even know why he’s so stressed. The big assignments and tests have been submitted; he just has to wait for his fate now. He thinks maybe it’s because Professor Han gave him a 76 on the first philosophy exam earlier this semester, and because Professor Friedman is notoriously tough on his writing, which, really, when you think about it, is his own fault, because this is his second year of American college and he still can’t get his English to feel completely natural, because the universe hates him, but— but really, he’s fine. He didn’t sleep enough last night, and they lost their game yesterday, but he’s fine. He’s just not having a good day. Sometimes, bad days happen.

He taps both his feet on the floor. His dorm room is getting dark, because the sun sets so early, and he never bothered to turn the light on in here today to begin with. He needs to think about a million things— dinner, what he’s doing tonight, what assignments are on his radar next, how he can help to prevent such a nasty loss like the one last night from happening again.

But right now, he doesn’t want to think about any of that. Right now, he just wants to be in his room in the dark. He likes having a single this year; he can be alone with his thoughts a lot more. It makes for peace and quiet when he’s reading, that’s for sure. Francis was a decent roommate as far as freshman year roommates go, but Remy values solitude. The only problem is at times like this, when he starts zoning out and nobody’s there to pull him out of his head.

He’s fine. Really, he is.

When his phone pings, it makes him jump. It’s sitting face-up on the edge of his desk, so he can see the screen light up, a faint glow against the darkening room. At first, he isn’t going to pick it up. He wants to lay back and let the heap of stuffed animals on his mattress swallow him, and maybe fall asleep right there, and just sleep straight through to wake up tomorrow morning. Except that’s an impossible hope, because if he did do that, he’d inevitably wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to get back to sleep at all and be totally dead all day tomorrow.

His phone pings a second time, and he isn’t sure why, but something about that second ping makes him curious about what notification it carries. He gets up, crosses the small floor space of his single, and picks up the phone. The notifications are stacked in order of most to least recent.

iMessage — now

Kai

Are you okay? You’ve been MIA for like 4 hours

iMessage — 1m ago

Kai

Hey

Group: Kiersey Men’s Hockey — 20m ago

18 notifications

iMessage — 37m ago

Ben

are you coming to beech tonight

Instagram — 1h ago

kairibou sent you a post!

The group chat lighting up is nothing new, and neither is Ben’s question about his plans for the night. He was with Ben, and Nando with him, earlier today— right up until lunch— and would probably still be with them if he hadn’t headed back for his room riding the homework excuse. The notifications from Kai are slightly more concerning, because they hit him with a pang of guilt. He doesn’t want to ignore xir. Or anybody, really.

He opens the Instagram notification first; xe sent him a meme about the Spanish Inquisition, which actually makes him laugh when he sees it. He likes xir message, then goes back over to the text thread. Even with one stupid meme, his shoulders feel a little less tight.

Me: Sorry

Me: I’m okay

Kai: Lol don’t be sorry

Kai: I was just wondering

Kai: What are you doing tonight?

Me: I don’t know

Me: I guess my team is probably hosting something at beech street

Me: But I don’t know that I’m up for it

Kai: Did something happen?

Kai: To you

Me: No, I’m okay

Me: I’m just not feeling it

Something funny happens, then, and Remy sinks into his desk chair as it happens. He watches Kai start typing, and then stop typing, and then start again, and repeat the cycle at least three times. He laughs at his phone screen again. The tension eases further.

Finally, there’s another text.

Kai: Where are you right now?

Me: I’m in my room

Me: Why?

Kai: Just wondering

Me: Uh… okay

Xe stops texting after that. Remy watches the screen for xir typing bubble to appear, but it doesn’t. Xe leaves him on read, which is fine. Remy has never been the kind of person to get weird about texting times or getting left on read, since he is one of the worst culprits when it comes to forgetting to reply. He has no idea what Kai is up to, but at least now xe knows he’s not having any major crisis.

Because he really isn’t having a major crisis. This is just normal college stress. Sometimes it happens.

And… okay. It’s true. He really doesn’t want to get another bad grade. But does anybody ever want that?

He walks back over to his bed, and grabs Nagini, his beloved weighted snake, from the stuffed animal pile. He drapes her around his neck like a scarf, then leans back into the pile, just the way he imagined doing, and feels the welcome embrace of a bunch of small, plush, inanimate friends.

Maybe he should go over to Kai’s apartment. He would really love to see Leonardo, the lizard xe’s not supposed to have in the dorms. But then again, that would require a lot of getting up and getting dressed and getting motivated that Remy cannot find in him right now.

So he’ll lay here. With Nagini and his other friends. In the dark. And that’ll be okay. If he winds up napping and waking up in the middle of the night, well… that’s a bridge he’ll cross when he gets to it.

He even closes his eyes. He’s not sure how long it is before it happens, but when the knock comes at the door, he’s definitely not sleeping. He knows he’s not sleeping because it makes him jump, and he sits up halfway in bed.

Knock, knock. It happens again, as he runs through the list of possible culprits. It’s definitely not the RA on his floor, because there was no chipper little res life! announcement that accompanied the knock. And he isn’t really on knock-on-the-door basis with any of his neighbors. He’s pretty sure it’s Kai. Then again, there’s an equal chance it could be Ben or Nando or even both of them at once.

There’s only one way to find out. He gets up, leaves Nagini on the bed, and pulls the door open a crack.

His visitor has purple hair, and is holding a small paper bag in one hand, with a disposable travel cup in the other. “Hi,” he says, in English, and then, in French, adds, “Are you about to kidnap me?”

“No.” Kai’s grin is gentle, and xe replies in French, because xe has never been anything but patient with his slow English brain. “But it would be cool if you let me in.”

“Oh.” He immediately feels stupid, because he should have realized that, and pulls the door all the way open for xir. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Kai slides xir shoes off at the door. They’re lavender high tops that almost match the color of xir hair, but not quite. In general, purple is a necessary part of Kai’s aesthetic. Remy got xir a purple mug with lizards on it this past Christmas.

Kai is quiet for a second, as the door shuts itself behind xir. There’s something in xir expression that lets Remy know he’s about to be interrogated, before it even happens. Xe folds xir arms, and tips xir head to the side. Remy figures maybe he can beat xir to it, and answer the question before xe asks. “I’m okay,” he assures xir, and hopes he sounds convincing.

Kai doesn’t look like xe believes him. “Have you been locked in here all day in the dark?”

“No,” Remy lies, and then Kai turns on the light. He winces, and sits back onto his mattress. “A little warning next time?”

“Sorry.” Kai walks over to sit down next to him, and hands him the paper bag and cup. “But these are for you.”

“What?” He pauses, as xe forces the items upon him. The bag is light, but there’s definitely something inside— food, for sure. And the cup is warm, like it’s home to a hot drink. He meets Kai’s eyes. “Why?”

“Because I’m not stupid,” Kai laughs. Xe rubs his shoulder, gently, and adds, “You’re having a weird day. I thought you could use, like… a pick-me-up?”

“You didn’t have to—” He sniffs the drink; it’s hot chocolate. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I wanted to.” Kai is still gentle, as a small silence settles over both of them. Remy peeks into the bag. It’s a croissant, a chocolate one, and both of these items no doubt came from the café on campus. He inhales, and when he lets out his breath, Kai speaks again. Xir voice is a lot quieter this time. “Are you okay?”

Remy hesitates, which is the first mistake you always make when you’re trying to convince someone you’re okay. But then again, says his subconscious, within that brief hesitation, why bother? Why try to fake it? Kai knows him well. Xe’s one of his best friends. And he has a feeling xe wouldn’t be bringing food randomly to his dorm if xe didn’t have some reason for it. The reason, in this case, being that xe obviously expects him to reply with a no to xir question.

So he sighs, then remarks, “I’m just having a day.”

“Having a day is okay.” Kai pauses. “That’s… kind of what I figured. It’s why I’m here.”

“Sorry,” he blurts, because the guilt washes stronger over him now. It’s a Saturday, and Kai could be doing any number of fun things, and xe’s in his dorm feeling sorry for him when he’s just being dramatic about some schoolwork.

“Why are you sorry?” xe replies.

“I didn’t mean to, uh— concern you?” He winces at himself, and looks up to meet xir eyes. “Or, like— make you interrupt your day for me—”

“Rem,” Kai mumbles. There’s sincerity— and warmth— in xir eyes. “There’s literally nothing you have to apologize for. This is what friends are for.”

And Remy knows this. But he’s so overwhelmed with gratitude in this moment that it feels like new information. “Thank you,” he says. “For, uh— the food. And for coming.”

“You’re welcome on both,” xe says. “And it’s white hot chocolate, by the way.”

Remy laughs into the lid of the warm drink. “You make me so happy.”

Kai’s smiling, and xe shrugs. “Like I said,” xe says. “What are friends for.”

He takes a long sip from the cup; xe’s right. It’s white hot chocolate. And it tastes like a warm hug. Little by little, he thinks he’s going to have a good night.

“C’mon,” Kai says, after they sit there a moment, as if xe can read his mind. “Let’s watch something. I’m here to stick around.”

Remy smiles. “Okay.”

Before they do, he texts Ben.

Me: I’m staying in tonight, but I’ll see you at breakfast?

Ben: good deal

Ben: love you

Me: Love you too

With Kai, he winds up in a pile on his bed. They perch his laptop at the edge of the covers, pull up Game of Thrones, and use the duvet as a way to achieve maximum cozy. Remy puts Nagini around his neck again. Kai is a lot smaller than he is, and xe huddles into his shoulder. Xe’s warm, and xir hair smells like lavender, and xe’s always a good cuddle.

“You should have brought Leonardo,” he tells xir, pulling his arm around xir shoulders.

“Aw,” Kai mutters. “He must be so lonely in my room. We can go there next time.”

“Yes,” he whispers, to the ceiling. Kai’s lizard is really the best.

“I know you like him more than you like me,” xe adds, as xe’s pushing play on the laptop.

“Well,” Remy remarks, not really able to stop smiling. “At least you know.”

Kai laughs as xe falls back into their blanket cocoon. “You’re an asshole,” xe remarks, and Remy grins wider, because he knows.

Safe, warm, and cozy, that’s how he spends the rest of his Saturday night. He wouldn’t change much of anything, not for the world.

#lizard keeper #rat boy #crickets #kiersey college #ficlet #sappy prompts #mel writes #remy & kai

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spine-buster · 4 years

Note

hey i know you’ve mentioned a few times that you’re a teacher which obviously means you’ve spent a lot of time in school (both learning and teaching)...i was wondering if you had any advice for university (choosing the right one, the right program/degree and staying motivated and organized) i hope you’re having a good day & happy thanksgiving!! 🤍

Disclaimer: I gave this advice to one of my students in an email and I’m giving it to you too.

Make time to have fun. Seriously. If all you do is study all the time, you are going to burn out, and it will happen quickly. Make sure to make time for friends, family, and everything in between. It will bring you balance.

Utilize your professor (or more likely, your TA's) office hours. Go speak to them to ask about expectations for assignments, any readings or concepts you don't understand, or troubles you might have with the course. I promise you that they will help you and they WILL NOT think you are stupid. Most of them want things a certain way (especially for assignments), so if you're asking about it, they can see you are taking a serious interest in your work.

Don't be afraid to use other on-campus resources, such as writing centres. You pay a whole lot of money for tuition, so you may as well take full advantage of the things that are offered to you.

Utilize the library as much as possible. I know that for me personally, my mentality of being in a library made me work so much more efficiently than if I was at home (this is in part because I worked part-time at Home Depot throughout university, but also because the library was quiet and filled with other people serious about getting work done). I'm not sure if you're commuting or living on campus, but in a similar vein, have a designated working/studying space. Don't bring your laptop onto your bed. Leave it on your desk. Mentally there needs to be that distinction.

Your mark will likely drop anywhere between 15-25% on your first assignment. Trust me. Don't be alarmed. I was getting 80s and 90s in grade 12 English essays, and on my first essay I received a 62%. It is all a learning opportunity. When this happens, like mentioned above, go to your TA (they will be the ones marking your work, not your professor) and ask how to improve your mark. Don't ask to re-do the assignment, because they will not let you. It's a matter of taking their constructive criticism and applying it so that you do better next time.

Try to network as much as possible. This starts with your professors and TAs. Try expanding your horizons and attending networking events. You never know who you will meet that will be willing to help with your future career.

This one is a bit brutally honest but it's true: one course will always suffer. There is no way you can keep up with EVERY. SINGLE. READING. for every single course. You will fall behind. Hell, you're already behind the first week you start. Some readings you will just have to skim through so you get the gist of it. Don't let it bother you.

We all fail courses. I failed Soviet Cultural History in my third year. Don't worry about it. Take summer school courses to catch up on credits. They're often easier, anyway.

If you get to take electives, make sure to take stuff you are actually interested in, because then the learning will be fun and you won't feel like the class is an obligation. Trust me. Once I was done with all the "core" courses in history I needed to take (aka 1 European history course, 1 Asian history course, 1 North American history course) I focused on histories that I actually wanted to learn. Those were some of the best courses I took, and I still remember what I learned. DO NOT TAKE A COURSE JUST BECAUSE YOUR FRIENDS ARE TAKING IT IF YOU HAVE NO INTEREST IN IT. I took second year philosophy for a boy and it was sooooooo bad. I regret it everyday. It was horrible. Take what interests you.

University is competitive, there's no doubt about it. But university is a time when you will realize there are so many people smarter than you, and there are so many people stupider than you (so stupid, sometimes, you wonder how they get out of bed in the morning). Make sure to maintain that competitive edge but don't let it take over your life or ruin your friendships.

To keep on top of homework:

Set a schedule for yourself. Buy a planner and actually USE IT. Colour code studying blocks, organize your time, prioritize tasks, etc. This makes a huge difference. I did this all throughout university, and I still use it in teaching.

Take notes as you are reading. Highlight, underline, sticky notes, hand-written notes, computer typed notes...do it all. Put the concepts in your own words -- don't just copy from the textbook page. This will help you better understand what you are learning. That's the key: understanding, not just memorizing.

Try as much as possible to go to class having already read the reading. That way, all the stuff the professor is lecturing isn't all completely new information to you, and you actually understand what he's talking about. This also makes you take less notes, because again, not everything is new! In a similar vein, write down what the professor SAYS, not just what is on the PowerPoint

Just because a professor posts all the slides online, it does not give you a pass not to show up to lecture. I can't tell you how many people I saw drop out/fail midterms/fail the final exam because they just relied on the slides posted after class and not actually attended.

Don't beat yourself up if you don't stick to a homework or reading schedule every once in a while. Some nights you will want to go out; some nights you'll be so tired you'll fall asleep; some nights you will try studying with your friends in a library or a café and just end up giggling so much and eating so much food because you're tired and delirious and not get anything done (happened to me -- true story! -- more times than I'd like to admit...)

I realize I just wrote you a novel, but I hope it helps. The most important thing, I should say, is MAKE SURE YOU ALWAYS GET A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP AND NEVER PULL ALL-NIGHTERS, ESPECIALLY BEFORE EXAMS.

#answered

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yatorihell · 4 years

Text

In The Darkness Chapter 50 - I Must Not Tell Lies

Words: 3,703

Summary: Students return to Hogwarts, but the Ministry of Magic has assigned a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Previous chapter | First chapter

Thank you @kiun for beta-ing me

Read on AO3

Hogwarts was back to its usual self. The maze had been destroyed after the Triwizard Tournament and the dragon pit was long gone. The only reminders of the previous year were the Great Lake which spread out underneath Hogwarts’ candlelit turrets, and the knowledge that one of their classmates wasn’t coming back.

Yato, Yukine and Hiyori had spent the train journey in near silence, buried in books about defence charms or, in Yukine’s case, mostly staring out of the window. They settled into their school dormitories quickly, comfortable in their second home and amongst friends once again before they attended assembly in the Great Hall.

The Great Hall’s cavernous ceiling was littered with floating candles, a sight that had Hiyori reminisce about the first time she had walked under them for the Sorting Ceremony, the same one that would take place tonight.

The students took their seats at their house tables and the Great Hall doors were closed with a soft, resounding clatter.

Professor Tenjin stood from the teachers table and approached his spread-eagled podium, and silence fell across the room.

“Welcome back to you all,” Professor Tenjin’s voice boomed through the Great Hall. “I hope you enjoyed your summer and are ready for the following school year.”

Professor Tenjin continued his welcome and began to dive into the thing that students didn’t want to hear… exams.

“Fifth years will take their O.W.L. exams this year-,” the mention of this had Yukine and Hiyori shudder simultaneously with the rest of their grade. “- and seventh year students will be taking their N.E.W.T. exams. Please do study as these are important for your careers.”

Yato sighed. He’d forgotten about that. Because he was caught up in the Triwizard Tournament in fifth year, he was excused from O.W.L. exams. Unfortunately, Yato now had to take his O.W.L.s and study for N.E.W.T.s this year to catch up. At least he’d have some classes with Yukine and Hiyori for once.

“Caretaker Kiun would like me to ask for the hundredth time today that magic and broomsticks are not permitted in the corridors or in between classes.” Professor Tenjin said this with a hint of a smile. The smile faded rather quickly and the students could sense a change in the atmosphere.

“Before we welcome our new students let us blow away the storm that has clouded our school,” Professor Tenjin said gently. “The Sorcerer has returned; I told you this many months ago but still the Ministry does not believe it. Not even when one of our own was slain at Hogwarts.”

Yato looked over to Hufflepuff’s table. He could see Yukine’s head was bowed, no doubt trying to hold in the emotion at the mention of Suzuha.

As if today wasn’t bad enough without the reminder, Yato thought to himself. They had only been back at Hogwarts a matter of hours and Yato was afraid Yukine would break at any second.

Professor Tenjin continued. “We must be diligent, and now more than ever we must be prepared to defend ourselves and others from the Dark Arts.”

Professor Tenjin’s gestured for Kiun to open the Great Hall’s doors without another word, and with that the conversation was over.

Professor Tsuyu stepped forward with the Sorting Hat and a short wooden stool placed in front of the Headmaster as the doors creaked open. Kuraha led the bewondered first years into the hall, and the darkness that had overshadowed them was somewhat lifted by the commencement of the Sorting Ceremony.

Yato kept an eye on Yukine throughout the Sorting Hat’s declarations, and after a few minutes, Yukine raised his head. Yato could see the redness around his eyes but it was clear Yukine was putting on a brave face. It couldn’t be nice sleeping beside Suzuha’s empty bed.

Professor Tenjin stepped to his podium once Professor Tsuyu had carried the Sorting Hat and its stool out of the way. He launched into his annual speech welcoming the new students to Hogwarts, how they should avoid the Forbidden Forest, and the new Quidditch Cup tournament.

Having sat through six years of the same announcements, Yato’s thoughts and eyes began to wander. He found himself staring at the teachers table that overlooked the Great Hall. The usual suspects were there: Kuraha the Groundskeeper seated at the very end of the table, Akiha the Charms teacher, Madame Kofuku…

Yato’s attention was caught by the person beside her; there was a new face at the teachers table.

Between Madame Kofuku and Professor Takemikazuchi sat a woman dressed in white robes sewn with scarlet. She had long dark hair in a tight updo, apart from two long bangs that hung either side of her face. She was unusual and striking, but her face seemed cold with the way she showed no warmth to her new colleagues. Her blue-grey eyes swept over the room and lingered on Slytherin’s table, and Yato couldn’t help but feel she was looking for him.

Yato tuned into Professor Tenjin’s announcement as he turned his attention to the newcomer.

“… And we would like to welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Oshi, who has joined us from the Ministry of Magic.”

There was a smattering of applause from teachers and students, but Professor Oshi did not react or acknowledge the introduction.

Yato should have expected as much since Rabo – their last Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – had been outed as a Death Eater sent to ensure Yato ended up in the Sorcerer’s hands. It had become somewhat of a trend besides the year they had a werewolf for a teacher.

But a professor sent by the Ministry… that sounded off, if not dangerous.

Especially when they didn’t believe that the Sorcerer was back.

The following morning the trio snagged a corner of the Slytherin table where a group of seventh years had wearily trekked away to the library to begin studying for their N.EW.T. exams.

They picked over a breakfast of toast and sausages as they discussed their classes. It felt strange to be back at Hogwarts after so long away, their black school robes and bags heavy. Yukine kept pulling at his tie, loosening it more than a professor would’ve liked.

“So what do you do if you’re taking OW.L.s and N.E.W.T.s this year?” Hiyori asked Yato.

Yato swallowed his mouthful of toast. “I’ll take my O.W.L.s this year with you guys, my N.E.W.T. exams will be next year.”

Yukine raised an eyebrow at this. “So, you’re being held back a year.”

“No,” Yato said curtly. “I’ll be in class with you babies and doing twice the work. I’m allowed more electives to focus on my O.W.L.s subjects because they’re needed to progress to the N.E.W.T.s.”

Hiyori cut in before Yukine could retort to the ‘baby’ comment. “So, what classes are you taking?”

Yato thought for a second and slowly listed the subjects he chose. “Charms, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, History of Magic, Ancient Seals, and… Muggle Studies.”

Yukine made a face at the last one. They would be having to explain Muggle things to him again for the rest of the year. “Haven’t you chosen too much?”

Yato shrugged. “If I fail a few I have some to fall back on.” Yato reasoned. Yukine was almost surprised Yato had thought of a plan.

“We’ll be together for most classes then,” Hiyori said with a smile.

“What did you guys choose?” Yato asked. He bit into another piece of toast only to be disgusted that it was nearly cold and logged with butter.

“Charms, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic, Transfiguration, and Herbology.” Hiyori recited.

They looked at Yukine who sighed and frowned, trying to remember what he chose. He listed his subjects even slower than Yato had. “Charms, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology.”

“That’s four classes we all have together,” Hiyori pointed out. She rummaged in the pocket of her robes and pulled out a folded square of paper. With some rustling it came undone and Hiyori scanned the Tuesday schedule.

“We have Charms this morning, you could join us,” Hiyori suggested.

Yato nodded his approval. “Ok.”

Yato swung his legs around the bench and shouldered his bag and followed Hiyori out of the Great Hall, Yukine shuffling behind him. It would be nice to sit in a fifth-year class with Yukine and Hiyori instead of by himself. At least he wouldn’t have Nora watching his every move.

At that thought Yato stopped in his tracks and looked back at Slytherin’s table. Yukine nearly bumped into him, giving a huff and side stepping Yato to continue walking, telling him to hurry up. Yato frowned as he recalled the previous night, where all students had sat down for the start-of-term feast. It wasn’t just one person who hadn’t returned to Hogwarts.

Where was Nora?

Yato, Yukine and Hiyori were holed up in the library after lunch where, once again, he noticed Nora wasn’t there.

Hiyori sat at a table opposite Yukine who rocked back on the rear legs of his chair. Yato stood beside her leaning against the latticed window. After a few moments Yato voiced his observation about Nora not being present at dinner, breakfast or lunch.

“Maybe she’s avoiding you?” Hiyori suggested.

Yukine scoffed. That was hardly likely. Either way, it was better than she wasn’t around to harass Yato when their ‘Father’ was trying his best to kill or snatch Yato.

“She probably has something to do with the Sorcerer if your dad is working with him,” Yukine said.

Hiyori looked horrified. Yes, Yato and Nora shared a non-biological father, but to say that Nora was involved with the Sorcerer was a huge accusation.

“Yukine, don’t say such things!” Hiyori exclaimed.

She looked at Yato worriedly, hoping a fight didn’t break out. However, Yato only regarded Yukine with reproachful eyes, hands planted on the windowsill behind him.

“Why? The Ministry won’t do anything about it anyway.” Yukine snapped. “He should’ve left her in that lake to die.”

Yukine glared at Yato, and it suddenly clicked for Hiyori: Yukine blamed Nora for Suzuha’s death.

Father’s involvement with the Sorcerer kidnapping Yato could implicate Nora, who was known to report back about what Yato was doing at school. Hiyori could see why Yukine would want someone to blame – and to hate - for Suzuha’s death.

“You know Nora didn’t have anything to do with it, Yukine,” Yato said levelly.

Yukine fumed and slammed his chair back onto the flagstones. Without a word he roughly slung his bag over his shoulder and stormed away, knocking his chair over which startled the quiet library.

Yato sighed as he watched Yukine round the corner and vanish from sight. He walked around to the other side of the table and picked up the chair, gently pushing it back under the table. He caught Hiyori’s eye.

Hiyori swallowed thickly. She’d never seen Yukine that angry before.

“It’s been a day, Hiyori,” Yato said. He walked back around the table and placed a hand on the back of Hiyori’s chair. “Being back at Hogwarts isn’t going to be easy for him. You have to remember they were together for a long time and Suzuha never got justice.”

Hiyori nodded and let out a shaky ‘Yeah’.

“We need to keep an eye on him, ok?” Yato asked. He bent sideways slightly to look at the side of Hiyori’s face.

Hiyori turned her head and looked in his eyes, giving him a determined nod. Yukine needed them now more than ever.

They did keep an eye on Yukine, and they didn’t like what they saw.

In fourth period Yato, Yukine and Hiyori were reunited for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

The newly appointed Professor Oshi stood at the front of the class as they entered, wand in hand and in silence.

Yato sat at a single desk besides Yukine, feeling slightly embarrassed at being in a class of fifth years. He felt eyes on him, no doubt because he’d been splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet for months on end. Hiyori took a seat behind Yato and gave him a nod when he turned to look at her.

The slam of a book on the table made Yato jump and turn around. In front of him, and floating down the aisle to the students behind him, was a copy of Dark Arts Defence: Basics for Beginners. Yato looked down at the book and then at Yukine, who looked just as confused.

“You will be sitting O.W.L. exams this year, otherwise known as Ordinary Wizarding Level. This is the basic qualification you will need to continue this subject at N.E.W.T. level.” Professor Oshi said.

She hadn’t moved from her position, cold eyes looking over the class for the slightest hint of disobedience.

Yato flicked through the book as she spoke. There was nothing to indicate examples of spells or even incantations. It was as if the book was made for a five-year-old, not fifth years.

As if reading his mind Professor Oshi finished by saying: “This class will be non-practical, approved by the Ministry of Magic.”

There was a quiet murmur in the class. Non-practical Defence was unheard of.

“There’s nothing about spells in here,” Yukine said aloud.

Professor Oshi’s eyes snapped to look at the speaker. They narrowed as she regarded the boy’s slouched posture, unkempt hair and messy tie. “You won’t need spells in the classroom.”

“How will we learn to defend ourselves then?” Yukine shot back.

“You will learn the theory that is needed to pass the exam and that is all.” Professor Oshi replied.

“How does theory prepare us?”

“You don’t need to be prepared.”

“So, when the Sorcerer decides he wants to kill someone else the Ministry wants us to lie down and let it happen?”

The rapid exchange quickly fell into silence. The room held a bated breath.

Professor Oshi’s demeanour became even colder, calculating. After a moment she spoke in a crisp, clear voice addressing the room.

“Let me make this clear. The Sorcerer has not returned. I’m sure there’s some amongst you who believe this-,”

Yato shrunk back in his chair slightly as the professor’s gaze cast over him. He could feel an eruption coming if she said another word. Unfortunately for her, she said the worst thing she could’ve.

“- but it is all a lie.”

Yukine slammed his book on the table and stood up, his chair toppling over from the force and clattering to the ground.

“IT’S NOT A FUCKING LIE! THE SORCERER MURDERED MY FUCKING BOYFRIEND AND THE MINISTRY IS DOING FUCK ALL TO CATCH HIM! YOU CAN’T EVEN ADMIT IT TO YOURSELF YOU FUCKING BITCH!” Yukine screamed.

His voice turned hoarse towards the end, and neither Yato nor Hiyori could tell if it was from the tirade or raw emotion.

The room was silent, all eyes on Yukine. His knuckles had turned white from gripping the edge of the table, shoulders visibly shaking and eyes as poisonous as ivy as he stared the new professor down.

“Detention.” Professor Oshi said. She was unfazed by the outburst, and Yato could have sworn he saw a smirk play on her lips. “My office.”

Yukine shoved his table, nearly toppling it and sending the book to the floor with a slap and stormed out of the classroom. Hiyori winced as the door slammed behind him with earth-shattering force.

“You will read one chapter per class and write an essay about what you have learned.” Professor Oshi stated.

For the rest of the lesson the class continued in silent reading, Professor Oshi at the front of the class in her usual stance watching over them.

Yato stared at the book but he didn’t take in any of the information, mind preoccupied with Yukine’s outburst. It wasn’t much of a secret that Yukine and Suzuha were dating. They had gone to the Yule Ball together as champion and date. Yukine was Suzuha’s treasure to save from the lake. He hadn’t even been able to see Suzuha before he went into that fucking maze.

But that was the first time Yato had heard Yukine call Suzuha his boyfriend.

And now they were being told it was an accident.

The bell rang throughout the school and the class packed up, taking their babyish defence book with them and filing out of the class with muted whispers. Yato spotted Yukine’s bag on the floor by the toppled chair, realising that Yukine had left it in his rampage. Yato picked up the fallen book and tucked it inside the bag before putting it over his shoulder alongside his own.

Yato could assume that Yukine wasn’t going to any more classes today after that. He would have to give him his bag back another time.

Hiyori stood outside the classroom waiting for Yato, arms folded and looking worried.

“What the hell was that about?” Hiyori hissed.

Yato assumed she meant Professor Oshi denying the Sorcerer had returned rather than Yukine’s outburst, but he didn’t reply. Instead he steered Hiyori down the stairs by the elbow, looking behind to see Professor Oshi watching them over the balcony.

Yato looked back at the ground, footsteps quick on the stone steps.

“Looks like the Ministry wants to make sure no one at Hogwarts believes the Sorcerer is back,” Yato said lowly. “They won’t even teach us Defence now because of it.”

“They can’t stop us from learning, we need to know how to protect ourselves!” Hiyori argued at the injustice.

Yato shook his head. “They already have.”

They reached the second floor where they had to part ways for their next classes. A few students passed them as they stood to the side, keeping their voices low.

“They can’t brainwash us into submission; we know exactly what happened!” Hiyori exclaimed.

“I know what happened,” Yato corrected her gently. “Right now, it’s my word against the Ministry, and I don’t think I’ll win.”

Hiyori huffed and looked away. She began to feel the same way Yukine did in this situation. What good was the Ministry of Magic if it didn’t protect its citizens?

Yato reached out and touched Hiyori’s arm gently. “It won’t be forever, Hiyori.”

He smiled at her when she met his gaze. He could see the concern in her eyes, a look he had become accustomed to throughout their years at Hogwarts. Things always worked out in the end.

“The Sorcerer will already be defeated once the Order finds the prophecy.”

Yukine did not go to the rest of his classes, as Yato predicted. Instead he had hid out in Hufflepuffs common room, cursing. The bell rang to signal the end of the school day, and although he had hardly cooled off enough, he still had detention with Professor Oshi.

Yukine knocked twice on her office door in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and waited. His chair had been rectified and stood in an orderly manner with the rest of the class, his bag missing.

The door opened by itself and Yukine stepped inside. Professor Oshi sat at her large, empty desk, hands folded and her attention on Yukine immediately. It seemed that she had been doing nothing but wait for him to arrive.

Yukine noted the small trunk in the back corner which appeared to be the only new addition to the bare office. No portraits hung on the drab walls, no belongings filling the wooden cabinets. The bookcase against the far wall was practically empty aside from a few copies of the book she had handed out earlier. The fireplace was the only ornamental piece in the room, pristinely cleaned and polished with fresh logs placed inside.

Normally offices were personalised, but it seemed she had either no possessions or no personality. Yukine decided it was the latter.

“You will be doing lines for your punishment.” Professor Oshi stated.

Her dull eyes looked behind him and Yukine turned. A small desk facing the wall stood adjacent to her desk, set up already with a piece of parchment and a black quill in an ink pot.

Yep, definitely no personality, Yukine thought.

Yukine sunk into the seat and picked up the quill and hovered over the parchment. After a moment he looked up and he spoke, still facing the wall. “What do I write?”

Another moment passed.

“’I must not tell lies’.”

Yukine felt his face heat up, red seeping into his vision. He gripped the quill tighter, fighting the urge to turn around and stab the quill tip into her neck.

“How many times?” Yukine asked through gritted teeth.

“Until the message sinks in.”

They would be here forever then. Yukine resolved himself to write the phrase over and over until she told him to stop, even if he was there until morning.

He would not admit defeat.

Yukine scratched the quill against the paper, and the crimson ink stained against the page.

I must not tell lies.

Yukine felt a stabbing pain on top of his left hand as he wrote the phrase. He ignored it and wrote the phrase again, and again, and again.

I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies. I must not tell lies.

The pain seared to a burning ache. He wrote it again, flexing his left hand as he did so in a bid to ease the cramp.

I must not tell lies.

Yukine’s eyes flicked to his hand. He dropped the quill and stared at his hand in disbelief. He looked over his shoulder at Professor Oshi who returned his shocked look with cold-hearted contempt.

“Carry on.”

Yukine looked back at the ink that had splattered on the parchment, and he realised it was his own blood. Five words were etched in his hand as if carved there by a scalpel.

I must not tell lies.

#noragami #noragami aragoto #yatori #yato #hiyori #yukine #hp au #harry potter au #in the darkness #my writing

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axelsagewrites · 4 years

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Sirius Black*Group Project Part 1

Ship(s): Sirius x reader

Requested (?): Nope.

Warnings?: couple of mild swears

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

Screw. Group. Projects.

I mean c’mon, what teacher actually thinks they’re a good idea? Either you’re with your friends and get no work done because you would rather do anything else than the actual project or you’re with random people in your class who couldn’t give an owl’s feather if you passed or not.

Also, it’s Hogwarts. Magic isn’t a group activity. Only one person actually fires the spell! But no Slughorn decided there was too much animosity in the class, so he wanted to ‘break down house division’ and ‘help us see eye to eye’.

Bull. Ever since James and lily actually got together there’s been no teenage drama for him to watch. So here we are waiting for him to go through his list as we stand at the front of the class. The chatter among my, albeit small, friend group died as he began to read. As the names were called out the group of 4 had to go find a station.

The stations began filling, from the back of course, and my friend group got smaller and smaller until I was stood there, alone, with 11 random classmates. Every group so far had someone from each house meaning at least 2 people were glaring at each other in every group.

I looked at the 10 others still up here. 2 Slytherins, 2 Hufflepuffs, 2 Ravenclaws, and 4 Gryffindor’s. This means there was at least 1 three. Not to promote stereotypes but please let me be in a group with a Ravenclaw! Or even a Slytherin, they get shit done! Hufflepuffs are nice about the fact they don’t do any work and Gryffindor’s are so hit or miss you don’t know what’s happening till the presentation! Not to be judgemental of course.

Luckily for me though I had no beef with anyone in the class. Some groups all were glaring at each other and some were refusing to even look at them.

3 more groups. C’mon. As he read 4 more names, none of which were mine, I watched as the two Ravenclaws, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor walked away. Please be with the Slytherins, I kept repeating in my mind. And then he called 4 names…and none were mine…I was in a three…” So that means (Y/L/N), Mr. Black, and Mr. Davies will be our three. How exciting? Now I do believe there should be a station left,”

I just walked to the last station, easily the grimiest workbench in front of the storage cupboard by Slughorn’s desk and dumped my stuff. Soon Hufflepuff’s quidditch team captain sat across from me, his head instantly going on the desk. At least he was here, the other dude, I don’t know his first name, was over at James station starting a fight with Snape! And I only knew their names because it was the class's whole drama for the past week!

As the steam cleared from my ears, I saw a piece of paper fall on my desk. As I opened it, I overheard Slughorn telling Black to go sit down. ��Good luck xx’. “What’s that?” The Gryffindor leaned over me to try to see my note. Rolling my eyes, I flipped it over to write a response and he sat next to me without another word.

“Okay class,” Slughorn proceeded to explain the project, not even noticing the paper flying between my friend and me. it sounded okay. Not exactly easy but not hard since the work was divided between four, well three for us, but still.

We had a week. It was okay, doable. Sure, it was a lot of waiting for things to brew but it’ll be fine. Until I saw the potion written down. It wasn’t like most potions where you mixed some ingredients together…we had to make 3 potions to then mix into one big potion then add some other weird ingredient!

The class was filled with chatter once Slughorn stopped talking. We were supposed to start planning our potion. My group, however, was silent. Sirius, as I had now learned, was passing notes between James and him in the most obvious way and I could hear the snores from the boy whose name I still didn’t know.

I’m not about to feed into Slughorn’s want of drama, especially since I don’t want to start something, so I began to write down a rough plan. Basically, a to-do list then we just had to assign the tasks.

I did until I realised, we had five minutes left. “Guys,” I said. Silence. My cheeks flushed as I cleared my throat, “Guys,” I said louder. The boy’s snores faltered for a moment before continuing. Sirius wasn’t even looking. I sighed as I grabbed my wand. Quickly, my hand barely touching the wand, I sent a zap at Sirius.

“Ow!” Sirius jumped, knocking the station and waking up the other boy, while almost falling out his seat, “What the hell was that?”

“Mr. Black,” Slughorn warned. “Back to work,”

Sirius turned in his seat, finally looking at me and the other boy. his eyes fell on the Hufflepuff “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged.

Before a fight started, I jumped in, “Must’ve been an electric shock or something,” Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed at this, “It’s a muggle thing but um we should probably decide what we’re doing,”

The Hufflepuff sighed and rested his head in his arm, though still kinda paying attention. Sirius sighed but leaned over to look at the sheet. my whole body tensed as he leaned over, clearly not understanding personal space. My hand darted forward, pushing the sheet towards him, with a tight smile.

Sirius sat back, thank merlin, and looked over the sheet but the slight smirk on his face made me want to die. “Well, we could each do a potion then meet up to mix it all? Keeps it easy,”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” I said.

“Look at us, being a team already,” Sirius looked at the boy, “Mostly,” he muttered.

“I heard that,” the Hufflepuff said, finally sitting up, “I can’t do one. I’ve got training,”

“For a week straight?” To my surprise it was Sirius who was making him do the work, “I know Hufflepuff is bad but has it gotten worse or something?”

“Hey! How would you know? Last time you touched a broom it almost went into filches office,”

“I was drunk,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “After celebrating Gryffindor’s win,”

“Only because Potter cheated when he- “

“No one cheated! You just can’t take a loss,” Sirius raised his eyes.

“Mr. Black,” Slughorn warned, standing from his desk.

“Why are you standing up for him? Everyone knows he’s already washed up because he’s been too busy chasing that redhead- “

“Oi! That is so not true!” this time it was the Hufflepuff smirking, “You just can’t take the fact your team needs drugs to play- “

“That’s enough!” Slughorn bellowed, “Mr. Black, go see Professor McGonagall,”

“Sir there’s like 2 minutes left,” Sirius spat back.

“Then you better be quick,” Slughorn and Sirius glared at each other before Sirius stood, grabbing his bag and basically storming out. Before he could leave Slughorn followed with “Detention tomorrow, 8 pm on the dot,” Sirius slammed the door. Slughorn, and now the rest of the class, looked at us, “That applies to you too,”

“This is so not my fault. I have practise!”

Slughorn glared down at him, “I’m sure they can survive one practise,” when he went to speak again Slughorn cut him off, “I don’t hear (Y/L/N) complaining.” I just kept my head down. “tomorrow at 8pm, sharp.”

As the class began to pack up, I quickly looked at the potions, “Hey the second one only takes a little over an hour. Why don’t you do that one and well do the long ones?”

He glared at me as he stood, putting on his own bag. “What page?”

“38,” I said, quickly getting to my own feet, “If you finish it for Wednesday, I can mix it all for the Friday?” The bell went and the Hufflepuff just walked away. I held back either screams or tears of frustration as my friend walked up to me, “Kill me,”

But she didn’t and I showed up to detention the next day. 8pm, sharp, on a Friday. When I walked in no one was there, not even Slughorn. I debated whether or not to wait in here, in the corridor, to sit down. I’d never had detention before. Something about standing in an empty class made me feel wrong and I darted out to the corridor to wait.

As I walked out Slughorn and Sirius turned the corridor. “Thinking of leaving?” Slughorn asked.

“No-no sir. I um didn’t know if I should wait- “

“Just go in,” He cut me off, walking in himself.

“Never had a detention?” Sirius rolled his eyes, walking past.

I swallowed, following behind, “No,” his head wiped round, raising an eyebrow, “What?” I said. He chuckled and turned around, that smirk coming back.

“Now Mr. Davies won’t be joining us- “

“-That’s not fair- “

“As he was unable to get out of practise,” Slughorn raised his voice to talk over Sirius, “However he will get his detention later, I can tell you that much. As for you two,” he walked over to the sink, “you have the joy of washing these. Leftover cauldrons from first years,” I grimaced as I saw the green sludge on one of them smoking, “However I need to go for a teacher meeting so I will be leaving you unsupervised. Feel free to leave but only after all of these are clean,”

Slughorn walked towards to door to leave and Sirius muttered something under his breath, “Oh and- “Slughorn stopped and turned to us, “When I come back every dirty cauldron drops a letter grade from your project. Have fun,”

Once the door shut, I felt my heart sink. “So…” I said, instantly dying beside. Sirius looked at me and I had to look away, walking toward the sink, “Time to clean,”

The small laugh from his lips made a shiver go down my spine, “How have you never had detention?”

#Sirius Black #young sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius imagine #young sirius x reader #young sirius black imagine #young sirius imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter cast #harry potter ships #harry potter imagine #Marauders #marauders era #young marauders #harry potter marauders #marauders imagine

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beabaseball · 4 years

Text

this is a delirious 11pm post for Adults Only guys

Leave this space, child!

...

...y’all teenagers are going to be tweaked out of their goddamn minds.

Like, not necessarily in the drugged way, though some maybe yes in the drugged way, but like. Specifically in the non-drug way, they’re going to be snippy, and inattentive, and self centered. And that’s probably fine.

Like. Of course teens are self-centered, their bodies are doing weird shit for the first time and people keep making jokes they don’t understand yet, and some of these fuckers haven’t been given sex ed so they don’t even know what’s coming.

The younger teens have just emerged from the child form that has only just started being able to comprehend a larger world. In elementary school, sure I was reading time magazine for kids and we prayed for people who were being reported (religious school; recent tsunami, it happens) and when I was in 1st or 2nd grade we heard rumors that once upon a time women weren’t allowed to do the same stuff as men, but like— you can feel those things, but it’s not really something that you comprehend unless it’s right then a part of your life. I remember the first time I really ‘got’ sexism was in ninth grade in a gym class of 24 boys to 3 + me girls, and I wrote bad poetry about it in my phone for like three months trying to process it.

When I was like 16 our car broke down midway to school and we had to call my dorm parent to come drive me the next 5 mins, and so he’s in a bad mood bc he has to pick me up, and mom is in a bad mood bc car she gets a feeling dorm parent didn’t believe her when she said the car broke down, and it’s like 80 out but more importantly the humidity is a swamp, and I just remember being in his car driving the rest of the way to school and he’s complaining about sunburns bc he’s super pale and Irish, but he’s trying to talk so I kind of say “huh well i’ve never gotten a sunburn. I tan real fast and then go inside and I’m white again.”

and even in the moment I remember being like “that’s not really what he wanted to hear” and I think he even made a face, but I was too out of it and hot and tired to really do anything passed that. And I do feel kind of bad about it? Like, I did not mean to demean his pain of sunburns and I know also that at the time he was having A Rough Time with his marriage, to the point where he had us doing religious plays about parenthood for three seasons straight.

But also, I was a teenager. And looking back I can’t exactly blame my past self for just kinda... saying some words and feeling bad the rest of the car ride but also too tired to care. Theater teacher man wasn’t a bad guy; we were definitely not good at reading each other and he thought musicals sucked, but he also was the one who comforted me out of a panic attack when we had a tornado warning and I ended up convinced my daystudent friend was going to die.

Because that’s what I cared about at the time. Me-related things. Yes, tornado, but I am worried about one (1) person, and that mattered to me. I stayed behind when we got an actual sex-ed person in 7th grade because I was scared that reading yaoi would send me to hell. I had a breakdown in front of my history professor because one of my friends was discovering her gender identity and I was scared I was ‘losing her’ (you know the words!)

Now, someone comes out to me or someone doesn’t understand a term and I’m over here like “yea which definition u wanna use” but back then I was a kid and I had never experienced anything like this before, my hormones were wild—which didn’t mean I was horny and wanted boyfriend, it meant I was in constant fear of bleeding through things and every now and then I would wake up and my body would be in surprise unknowable pain (aka I was finally big enough to cut off my own circulation in my sleep and also growing pains)

Now, I’ve got a lot of that under control. When I wake up with a body in pain I usually know why and probably it is my fault actually. I know a bit better how to get through days when I’m too hot, or too groggy, or just dissociation or mad. (The trick is: say aloud, “sorry if I’m not responding much, I’m just really hot/groggy/out of it/still upset about that.” )

That’s not something a lot of teens have down yet. I saw a kid with a naruto shirt on at work once and I said “hey naruto” and he looked at me like he’d seen the face of god, he was so surprised someone knew what naruto was. To someone even MILDLY in my age range, the idea of not knowing who Naruto is is preposterous. But this was like, 12-15 year old at the most. Not hit his growth spurt yet. Just absolutely blindsided that there was an outside world which recognized something he liked, which I’m gonna wildly guess his parents probably aren’t into or don’t talk about it with him, because the thought of talking Naruto with your kid is horrifying.

Obviously, thinking other people don’t know about naruto is a similar kind of self-centered thought along the lines of “I bet thigh chick isn’t a REAL fan of x” or “EVERYONE has an opinion on me and there is no in between” where like the world... sort of revolves around you.

And like, once that person grows up if they keep that sort of self-focus, that’s usually the time you start trying to ditch them, but even older teens are still just coming out of that larval childhood state. They know a lot more about the world than we probably did at their age—I know a lot of them aren’t having the same existential crisis over their friends’ gender like I did, which is a big ol step— but there are still days that it’s going to be too much new shit to deal with, plus whatever else is happening inside them personally. And it’ll take a while to learn how to handle that.

In the meantime, they might be snappish, or out of it, or just kind of give up and have a ‘fuck it’ attitude sometimes, and it drives a lot of adults just goddamn insane it seems, according to all the mildly aggressive parents at work, trying to get kids who don’t want to be there to give the right reactions. It’s probably not even anything personal to the event that’s making them unhappy. One time I talked to a kid who was crying, and when I got her to tell me what was bothering her, it turned out that some people on her family reunion were mean to her. Nothing about the immediate ‘now’, just a lot of emotion that needed to go somewhere, and that somewhere ended up being crying, and it was not at all about respect or disrespect or anything related to us. Probably most of what was needed was to talk about it (success) and take a long nap.

The first time I remember having a meltdown with a ‘trigger’ like that, I was in 5th grade and my first assignment was something like “what did you do over summer” so I lost my entire shit and cried on the couch for an hour. Passed out, slept til 7, woke up and was fed soup, and have no idea if I finished that paper but presumably I did because I remember a nap and food working.

I would keep having these homework meltdowns periodically, and I don’t know when they stopped, but I had at least one, maybe two, in my first year of college.

And eventually I’ve just kinda.... stopped having them. Stress about a big project wasn’t something that bothered me anymore. You just did it one step at a time, and when you started thinking “maybe I’ll do it in the morning”, you immediately go to bed because you’ve already lost the fight and even if you don’t do it in the morning at least you won’t face it sleep deprived.

It takes time and living to get these experiences, and while one kid might not have the same issues with school work I had, maybe something else just knocks them on their ass every time (same) and it is just. Literally something you need to live through a couple times before you know how to deal with it. You can provide Blank Slate Alien Person with all the mental health tips and anecdotal advice and chamomile tea as you want, but the first couple times they face stress, none of those tips help if they don’t know how to implement them.

If you’ve ever assembled something by instructions and ended up building it upside down—it’s easier to build it again once you’ve gotten mad and undone it and started again. Because you’ve practiced. You already had the instructions, but now you have the experience of building it already, even if the result wasn’t the one you wanted.

Teens are learning a) how to read instructions, and b) that their assembly is probably upside down. and in the meantime, the world is also bonkers wild right now.

When they have that moment of rage, or giving up, or aloofness upon finding shit got built upside down— just. Let them.

You don’t have to ‘fix’ it or ‘fix’ them for having these emotions, or lack of them.

These are normal reactions. They make sense. All I’m asking is that we understand it’s going to happen. These emotions are going to happen.

Don’t let yourself justify being mean to kids and teens by telling yourself they’re being disrespectful. The world and their lives and emotions also don’t revolve around you. It’s not always a rebellion or reason to fight when things get too high strung to hold total control of.

That doesn’t mean ignore them. I was maybe 12 or 13, and it was 90 on a metal ship, and i was wearing an under shirt because i didn’t have a bra, so two layers of clothes on a hot metal ship, on my period— and all I remember is asking my dad to let us sit down and eat some lunch, because i was dizzy and dehydrated, and all he just kept saying we would do it once he saw the tour. I have no idea how long it was but I probably could’ve cried and been called moody or uncooperative.

Life is difficult. Especially for people who aren’t yet in control of their situations. Who are still bursting out with emotions they can’t otherwise articulate.

Be kind to that.

#long post #ramble #teenagers #kids #teens #puberty #puberty Sucks #especially when the world continues to exist around you #beatext #memories

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years

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S c h o o l Did you/do you like school? Looking back after a few years, I think I did overall. I wouldn’t have said that in the moment, though. I got very easily overwhelmed, stressed, and burnt out. Many tears were shed. A lot of anxiety was induced. I hated the presentations and taking exams. There were parts I did like, though. There were assignments, books, courses, teachers, and activities that I liked. The learning aspect of stuff that was of real interest to me was enjoyable. What was/is the best thing about going to school? The worst? I listed the good and bad in my previous answer. All that being said, I do believe education is good and important. What was/is your favourite subject? Least favourite? My favorite was always english and then psychology, obviously. That was my major. My least was always math. That was the absolute worst. Who was/is your favourite teacher? Least favourite? My favorite in elementary and middle school (my school was a K-8th grade) was Mr. McGill. He was my 4th grade teacher, but he ended up being an 8th grade teacher later on and I was able to have him again. He was very funny and cool and made learning fun. He genuinely cared about his students. Everyone loved him. In high school it was my sophomore history teacher, Mr. Coffey. He reminded me so much of Rob Dyrdek from how he looked to how he acted. He was cool. He always jammed out to Red Hot Chili Peppers before class. In college I had a few awesome professors. College professors are usually pretty rad.

What did/do you do for break/recess? Recess I just hung out with my friends. I forget what we did, exactly. I couldn’t go on the playground (I’m in a wheelchair). I probably just watched them for awhile or something. I remember playing 4-square. Probably stuff like tag as well. I honestly don’t really remember what I did for recess in elementary school. In middle school we just hung out. *shrug* Oh, and had snacks cause most of us always brought chips or whatever to munch on before lunch. People were suddenly your best friend if you had Hot Cheetos haha. In school break was lunch and I just ate and hung out with friends mostly. In college if I was campus for a long time I usually ate between classes, studied, did some reading, got coffee, messed around on my phone and watched YouTube or Netflix or something. Did you/do you do any after school activities? What? In 5th and 6th grade I was a Girl Scout. In middle school we had electives, but that was during school so I guess that doesn’t count. I think it was like toward the end of the school day, though. Oh, also my local community college offered some fun classes for kids during the summer and I did some of those. In high school I was in a couple clubs. I was VP for one of them. When I was at community college I was an active club and then board member of the psychology club. In university I didn’t do anything, ha. I went to my classes and went home. Did you/do you take part in a club or sport at school? What? No sports, but yeah the club stuff I just listed. ^^^ What age did you start school? Like 3 in preschool. If you've left school do you wish you were still there? Nope! haha. I served my time as I say. I’m doneeee. S l a n d e r Do you take things people say at face value? Not always. Depends what they’re telling me, obviously. If someone was like, “there’s a huge meteor crashing to earth tomorrow” I’m gonna look into that lol. What is the worst rumour that has been spread about you? There weren’t any. Not that I ever knew of, anyway. I wasn’t relevant. Can you honestly say you never act two faced? No. I think we’ve all been fake in some way or another at some time or another. Some people are just fake people, though. Like that’s just who they are as a person, ya know? I’m not one of those people, but I can’t say that I’ve never been before. Do you get talked about behind your back often [someone tells you]? I’m sure my former friends have talked a lot of shit about me over the past few years and rightfully so. I wouldn’t blame them at all. Now I’m probably not even on their radar anymore and they probably just don’t give a shit, which I also wouldn’t blame them for. Apart from that, I mean I’m sure people have said stuff about me behind my back and I’ve been told things before. For the most part; though, I really feel like I was always pretty insignificant and not even on most people’s radar. Do you believe everyone is somewhat of a gossip? Yeah, pretty much. Some are just make it their life; though, and live for the gossip and drama. Don't you think those who insult others and their lives just seriously need to get a life of their own? I don’t understand the obsession some people have for people they claim to dislike or hate. Like, why are they so invested and give any of their time to someone they don’t like? It makes NO sense. I see that so much on the internet. I watch YouTubers and there will be so many haters who just have to get their fix and watch the video and talk shit about the person. They just have to leave that comment and make it known. I’m just like, WHY. I don’t waste my time watching or following up on someone I don’t like. I don’t feel the need to leave a rude comment. It��s real easy to just X out the video and find something else. Why waste your time??? I’ve just really been seeing that a lot lately especially on YouTube. Same with celebrities. There’s some I’m not a fan of or don’t particularly care for, but I have the need to go tweet and tell them that I don’t like them or talk shit in their comments. Make comments to yourself or to someone privately, but you don’t need to make it known to the person. I just move along with your life. That goes for anyone. We all talk shit sometimes, don’t act like you never do, but you don’t need to insult people to their face. S p o r t s Do you like sports in general? Nope. Do you prefer field sports, team sports or other? I prefer no sports. Do you run/jog regularly? Nope. Do you like/enjoy swimming? What's your usual stroke? Nope. What sport do you like to watch but not to play? None. What sport do you like to play but not to watch? None. Who is your favourite sportsman/woman? What sport do they play? I don't have one. Are you sporty, average or hate sports? Sports are just not my thing, man. R a p Do you like rap music? Yeah. Whose your favourite rap artist? Why? I have several. I’m probably most into Post Malone these days. I like Drake, too. There’s also the newer genre, emo rap, that I’m into as well. That includes like Juice WRLD and Travis Scott. Thennn there’s like rap rock. Linkin Park, one of my top favorite bands, fall under that category. Whose your least favourite rap artist? Why? Hmm. Name me a few rap songs that you like? I don’t wanna. Name me a few rap songs you dislike? I don’t wanna. Is rap one of your top 3 genres of music? I don’t know, man. I just like variety. Eminen or Dr. Dre? Eminem. Dizzy Rascal or Will.i.am? I don’t think I’ve heard of Dizzy Rascal. D12 or Bone Thugs n Harmony? I liked a couple songs by D12. Haven’t listened to them in a long time, though. R e a d i n g Do you like reading? I love to read. What's your favourite book? Whose your favourite author? I can’t choose a favorite. I just can’t. I’ve been reading a longgggg time and have read a lottttttt of books. I have too many favorites. Fiction or Non Fiction? I like fiction better. Sci-Fi or Historical Novel? Hm. Probably sci-fi out of the two. Fantasy or Horror? Horror. Romance or War Novel? Romance. Do you prefer films or books? I enjoy both. How many books do you think you own? Quite a lot, but not as much as I used to. I’ve been reading a lot of ebooks for the past several years, so I have a lot of those. I have a lot saved in my Kindle app. What books have you read that made you sad? I’ve read countless number of sad books. What books have you read that frightened you? I read a lot of mystery and psychological thriller, so. What books have you read that were terrible? The only ones I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve read are the Fifty Shades of Gray series. :X What books have you read that left you wanting more? So many. I get really into a book and the characters. I love a series. R e l i g i o n Do you believe in God? Yes. Do you believe in multiple Gods/Goddesses? No. What is your religion called? Christian. Do you believe in Angels and Demons? Yes. Do you believe in Heaven and Hell? Yes. Do you believe in The Devil? Yes. Not like how he’s portrayed in movies and such, like the red dude with a pitchfork, but yes. What rule/ideal in your religion do you think is the most important? The 10 Commandments. What, to you, is the difference between spirituality and religion? Religion consists of practices, beliefs, and a relationship with God. Spirituality is more within yourself. Q u e s t i o n s O f O d d n e s s Do you like tandoori chicken? Never had it. I don’t even know what that is. Can you hear a man's voice right now? On the TV. What nations tea is the best? I don't know. Can you remember what you were doing at 12.30pm yesterday? Sleeping. Does the colour purple make you feel a particular emotion? No. What age are you going to be in 2020? I’m turning 31 this year. D: What colour are your siblings eyes? Brown. Do you more often get a sore throat, cough or sneeze? Sore throat or cough. Do you get more headaches, earaches, toothaches or sore eyes? Headaches and sore eyes. Do you usually wear plain coloured clothes or dual/multi coloured? I wear a lot of black, but it has stuff on it it’s not just a plain black shirt. How far away is the nearest take away place from your house? Like a 2 minute drive. Do you think sarcasm is a good tool or just annoying? It can be annoying when done excessively. It can just be rude sometimes. I have my sarcastic moments, though. What photos do you have on your phone? Saved photos of stuff I found online, my doggo, some of me, just various things. What's the model of your phone? iPhone XR. Do you drink hot honey and lemon when ill? Nope. My younger brother swears by that kind of stuff when he’s sick. What word would sum up today? It’s only 6 in the morning. I need to go to bed omg. This week? Uh, itt’s just starting. This month? Meh. This year? Way too soon to say. Favourite type of muffin? Banana without the nut and blueberry. Streusel on top makes them even better.

#personal #text #this is a long one #survey #surveys

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