#latin student problems

[badolmen]

*holding you gently but firmly like a broody chicken* the use and reclamation of slurs is highly subjective. especially on the internet you do not know the identity and experiences of those around you. if you find a word others take pride in upsetting, blacklist it. block people who do not tag it. I don’t make my trauma your responsibility. it is my own that I must manage when choosing to partake in social circles.

#ra speaks #personal #biting biting biting biting #‘um x is a slur wow just say you’re a terf’ babygirl terfs want me dead too. I don’t need to disclose that to you or anyone. #people are going to use language that makes other people uncomfortable to describe themselves. they did it when they proudly #called themselves ‘students of Latin’ and ‘ladies of violets’ and ‘gay’ and ‘queer’ and ‘boygirl/girlboy/etc etc.’ #if you personally have a problem w that it is you personal problem. you do not get to police the language people use and identify with.

[olderthannetfic]

Now I'm wondering how countries like Japan and China teach literacy.

Since kanji / hanzi don't really have that much in the way of phonetic elements, they kinda have to teach them by memorization and I don't think they have many reading comprehension problems over there.

(Although both countries do have supplementary phonetic writing systems in the form of bopomofo and pinyin for China, and the kanas for Japan)

--

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It's a little closer to teaching vocabulary than spelling, but the same kinds of principles apply: You teach the building blocks, like the traditional radicals, which aren't so different from teaching Latin and Greek roots in an English class for English speakers.

And, as a matter of fact, lots of those radicals do predict pronunciation, just not in every single case. They can also be clues to meaning, but again, not absolutely consistently. Many characters have a sound-cueing radical on one side and a meaning-cueing radical on the other. It's just that only some are still useful in the modern day, while others are more like the English word 'plumbing' where knowledge of Roman lead pipes explains why this word comes from the one for lead, but the root probably wouldn't help a kid learn the word in the first place.

One similarity to teaching phonics would be teaching students to tell very complicated and similar characters apart: you want to help a student spot all the little building blocks of the character and then spot the ones that are different, not just glance at the whole character and get a general overall vibe. If you do a whole look-based approach, too many characters are too easy to mistake for one another.

Remembering a bajillion Chinese characters is hard if you're trying to memorize them in a year and not all of elementary school, but I think people who don't read them underestimate how many component parts there are and how approachable they can be if you start by learning fundamentals, not just memorizing a few individual characters as though they have no relation to anything else.

They're actually pretty systematic, just in the way that English spelling is with its overlapping systems and historical artifacts, not in the way that highly regular Spanish spelling is.

Having taken a lot of Japanese classes, I will say that Japanese as a foreign language textbooks often do a piss poor job of this and totally do teach kanji in a sight words-y way... But my Mandarin class started with important foundational concepts that served me well in Japanese later even if I bombed out of Chinese class at the time.

Can you tell how irritated I am by all the foreign language learners who think characters are sooooo hard when, really, it's just their crappy textbook? Haha.

They're moderately hard in the way that learning a full adult spectrum of vocabulary is hard, but people do that for foreign languages all the time. The countries that use characters do tend to make sets that are smaller for certain kinds of applications, same as we have things like simple English wikipedia, but a literate adult will always know lots more, whether it's from their career in engineering or their predilection for historical romance novels.

Uh... anyway, the answer is "Bit by bit in elementary school, just like in any other country".

[sabakos]

You probably don't know another language if you live in the United States and both you and your parents were born here unless you go out of your way to learn it. This is a problem of geography more than it is a moral failing because if you are an American, then learning another language is not immediately useful to you. This is because your options in school are as follows:

Spanish: Second most common language in America. Most people who speak it also speak English and will look at you funny if you know Spanish and will not appreciate you being able to eavesdrop on their conversations. But, it's the only non-English language with an appreciable population of native speakers that you can encounter without getting on a plane. However in all likelihood you will probably be taught by a non-native speaker who could not pass an A1 exam and you will learn no Spanish just the same as everyone else.

French: The only French speakers in North America probably don't want to talk to you ever, and if you speak non-Quebecois French at them they really won't want to. You are probably going to major in literary studies and spend the rest of your life pretending to read books no one else actually reads. You have opinions on Freud and Lacan.

German: No one in North America speaks German as their primary language. It's really only useful if you like philosophy or World War II history or want to move to Germany. You probably really like beer and will study abroad and be really annoying about it afterward. But most Germans you are likely to meet outside of Germany speak English somewhat well so you aren't really doing anything for yourself? So most people will also think you're a Wehraboo or worse unless you are Jewish.

Russian: You already speak Russian or another Slavic language at home and will insist that you do not up until the first day of class, when you and all of your classmates will spend the entire time gossiping with the professor in Russian. The few American kids will hang out in the back and probably talk about Dostoevsky and drink vodka out of their water bottles. Everyone will get an A and no one will learn anything new.

Mandarin Chinese: You (or more likely your parents) think "we'll all be speaking Chinese in twenty years" and so you want to get a head start. This attitude self-selects against people who will ever need to know Mandarin. You probably idolize Ezra Pound and use phrases like "command economy" unironically. Every single person from China who has ever met you hates your guts.

Japanese: You are a weeb. All of your classmates are weebs. Your professor may or may not be a weeb, but wants to die regardless. You'll probably give up halfway through the first semester along with the most annoying 80% of the class and switch to Spanish once you realize how hard it is to learn Japanese.

Korean or Arabic: Congratulations on your new job at [redacted]!

Pashto or Urdu or Farsi: Congratulations on your new job at [redacted], but also I really doubt you are supposed to be telling anyone that you are learning this language. Good luck on your future job search.

Navajo: Most Navajo people don't speak any Navajo and unless you live in New Mexico you will literally never meet someone who is Navajo. They don't want to talk to you anyway. I don't think many people ever even try to learn this, this is solely on this list because I've seen insane but clueless Europeans try to guilt Americans for not learning it for some incomprehensible reason.

Latin: Latin is a dead language. I'm sure you are tired of hearing about that by now, which is why I reminded you about it. Even Catholics will make fun of you now for learning this. Your parents probably want you to be a doctor, and will stop talking to you when you drop out of med school. Or maybe you're a classics student who will spend the rest of your life incorrecting historians about pissing contests no one cared about anyway. Go forge a historical demonology book or get off to a picture of Thomas Aquinas or Cicero or something, I don't know.

Ancient Greek: Oh, are you a theology student or something learning Biblical Koine? The Evangelical Christians don't care what the bible actu- ...No? You're learning Attic Greek? And you're not like, a linguistics or classics major or something, you chose to do this specifically. Hey, uh, are you doing anything later? Or right now, even?

#posting #language learning

[valkyrieromanoff]

IMAGINE PEDRO PASCAL X ACTRESS!READER

Summary: You and Pedro answer some internet questions.

Warnings: Implied romance, friendship,fluffy

I was up at the crack of dawn watching The Graham Norton Show due to my unhinged obsession with Pedro Pascal. That's where my hypothesis about Helen Mirren became more credible. I really hope you enjoy it, though.

"Hello, I am Pedro Pascal." He introduced himself, waiting for you to do the same. "And my name is Y/N, and today we are going to answer some questions from the Internet." You said as Pedro shook the jar with the questions written on small pieces of paper."Let's see what the first question will be." He said, turning the jar over so that you could pick one up. "What was the last song you listened to?" He leaned over to your side, reading over your shoulder. "Do you remember?"

"Let's dance by Bowie. I listened to it in the car when I was coming here." You said, leaving the paper on the table. "Whenever I'm feeling down, I put this song on, and everything is better. What about you?"

Pedro paused to think, looking distractedly to the side. "Someone sent me this video with the song Hey sexy lady and this has been on my mind since then."

"I think I know which video you are talking about." You laughed, raising an eyebrow. He chuckled and laid his head on your shoulder. "Well, next question. Are you good with accents?"

"Are you?" Pedro asked, as you shook your head negatively. "Come on, it shouldn't be that bad."

"The best I can do is a terrible British accent." And I'm not being modest; it's truly terrible." You rectified it, laughing. "But you, on the other hand, are good at it."

"I try; I've done a few different accents." Pedro said, moving his shoulders as if to ask something. "This is the way." He said it in his SNL Valley Girl accent.

You smiled as you shook the pot and motioned for him to take the next question.

"Recommend a book." He read, then tossed the paper aside. "I think I've mentioned this book before, but Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude is a landmark in Latin American literature and well worth the read. Besides dealing playfully with social and economic problems, it talks about family, friendship, and love."

"That sounds interesting." You commented. "I would recommend Normal People by Sally Rooney. It's a great book, which in addition to telling the story of Marianne and Connel, deals with topics such as mental health, social classes and makes us reflect on how we impact people's lives and how they impact us."

"Nice." Pedro agreed, waiting for you to take a question.

"What is your celebrity crush?" You asked, and you can't deny that you were curious to know his answer.

"Tough question, there are so many people I admire." He began, adjusting his glasses. "However, if I had to pick one, it would be Helen Mirren since Excalibur. Oh Morgana Le Fay has awakened something in me.""She's wonderful." You agreed, taking a moment to decide. "My celebrity crush is Tessa Thompson; that woman is amazing. She could punch me in the face and I'd thank her for it." "Whoa!" Pedro muttered in surprise. "I don't even know what to say." He joked as you pushed him lightly to the side.

"We only have two more." You commented, looking through the last few papers. "Let's see what the question is." You said, unfolding the paper. "Were you a good student? Were you Pedro?""I was a student." Pedro paused. "Maybe I got into some trouble." He joked, holding your arm as he laughed, "But they were always normal things, like skipping class or forgetting to do an assignment.""I guess I was a good student; I got good grades; I was a little nerdy; and I never got into any trouble." You spoke, throwing a lock of hair back."So, you were a good girl?" Pedro asked and you bit your lip."You could say that." You mumbled, holding the jar for him to pick up the last paper.

"What's the one thing you wish you could tell your younger self?" He read, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I would say that everything would eventually work out and that some things tend to take longer to happen. And to never, no matter what, stop being who you are."

You smiled, gently touching his shoulder. Pedro stared at your face and returned the smile.

"I'd tell her to not be so hard on herself and to try to enjoy the moments without worrying so much about the things she can't control." You said sincerely. "Well, it looks like the questions are over."

"It was a lot of fun answering them; I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as we did." Pedro spoke, smiling. "Until next time." He said, and made the peace sign with his fingers.

"Bye." You spoke, waving to the camera.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x actress reader #actress!reader

[honey-ca]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

Warning: NSFW . Remus Lupin young and adult, overstimulation, worship, tit worship, hardness and aftercare.

I feel like Remus Lupin would be the type of guy who would like to take his time in bed.

The fast ones are not compatible with this man.

He would take his time to please you and adore you, caress you everywhere he can.

He has a problem with your boobs, this man loves your boobs, no matter the size, he loves to watch how your tit is made to his hand, kneading it along the way.

His favorite places are the kitchen, the living room and obviously the bedroom.

He loves to see you in his clothes. They've done it once while you were wearing his shirt.

And I think he would like to play a role of student and teacher one day, but he never dares to tell you because she thinks it's embarrassing and kinky (which it is, in part).

Most of the time it would be vanilla sex with extra roughness, but the week before the full moon... uff😮‍💨 this man would kill you in bed. He would be rough in bed, (obviously with your consent) you probably passed out more than once.

"D-darling," said Remus. You had just woken up from your mini blackout, Remus was still moving inside you, taking advantage of every moment "You just woke up? Great, I missed those screams of yours" And he kept moving.

I feel like I'd be super fan of overstimulation, always taking you to the limit, enjoying your little trembles and moans. I'd also be a fan of branding you, leaving hickey and bite marks around you, letting people know you belong to them.

I feel like being a werewolf he would have a little mating period where all he thinks about is getting you pregnant.

"I'm going to fill that belly of yours with our puppies" he moaned "God, how sexy you'll look with boobs and a swollen belly carrying our children."

Aftercare would be the most important thing for both of us.

There would be days when he would be the one giving you cuddles afterwards. And there will be days, especially after the full moon (where he is weaker) where you cuddle him.

Both of you on a spoon or him leaning on your chest leaning on your chest feeling your latin heart and admiring you at every moment, while you caress his hair.

#smut #fanfic #+18 or +adult only #hp marauders #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #the maruaders #the marauders #remus lupin smut #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus john lupin #headcanon #marauders smut #smut fanfiction

[meltinghun]

Complicated ; Jean-Pierre Magnan.

summary; since the start of the school year, Jean-Pierre and reader have competed with each other for the first place on everything, that is until reader starts to neglect herself.

warnings: fem!reader, ANGST!!!, fluff, swearing, academic enemies-to-lovers, feelings of failure, reader has a shitty family AND doesn't take care of her health (dead dove do not eat? idk?), canon typical misogyny, they're so mean but they like each other (i promise!!).

w/c: 2.8k

author note: i want to thank everyone who encouraged me to keep writting, your comments made me blush and giggle so hard, omg!!!! <3

I got stuck in this o.s for more than a month because I really liked the idea but I wasn't convinced on how it was turning out, but anyways, I had to upload something after being inactive for so long lmao.

The latin teacher handed each student their graded exams, occasionally throwing back handed comments when he saw necessary, visibly enjoying the defeated faces of the students that didn't receive a satisfactory grade.

With an audible sigh, he extended the paper towards Y/N, shaking his head to emphatise his dissaprovement.

"You were the only reason as to why I was starting to believe that it was a good idea to integrate girls to the school." He raised his eyebrows. "But I'm starting to regret it."

The loud comment reverberated on the walls and hurt her ears, making her shrink in her seat with embarrassment when the big red 7/20 was placed in front of her. When the professor continued walking around, she heard a subtle chuckle coming from the left, turning her head in that direction. Founding a pair of big green eyes already staring at her in amusement.

"And I'm starting to believe that, after all, you are not a threat at all." A small smirk painted his face before continuing. "Maybe you fooled all of us into believing that you were actually smart, but I guess you aren't at all."

Her throat closed at the same time that she felt the need to throw up, she didn't knew what was wrong with her, she stayed up late studying for the tests, wrote her own resumes and even recited them out loud to try and memorize it, but no matter what she tried, the formulas didn't seem to stick to her brain, the numbers and symbols seemed like the exact same thing and confused them with each other and even the words of her history homework seemed to be written on a foreign language. She felt like a failure ever since her parents started to demand even better grades than she already had, spending her days and nights studying and having little to almost no sleep at all, investing all her time into trying to regain her star student position.

She was exhausted, sometimes even getting to the point of hallucinating things from the lack of rest, but convincing herself that she didn't deserve it until her parents were more than proud of her. And that seemed so far away.

Blinking away the tears, she tried to keep up with her facade, "Maybe you should start to mind your own business, Magnan." She managed to spat through gritted teeth.

"And that's where you're wrong, again." She groaned in annoyance. "See, when something makes you feel miserable, it is completly of my business because it makes me feel amazing."

She took a sharp inhale, and before she could say something, the sound of the bell indicating the start of reccess pierced the air. Rapidly, she gathered her belongings and almost sprinted out of the classroom, earning a severe reprimend from the teacher that she didn't care enough to hear.

"Miss L/N!" He made an offended sound. "Women, they are so sensitive... That's why they don't belong here."

She made a straight path towards the teachers restrooms, and only after locking the door did she allowed herself to let out a choked sob. The tears falling down and making a mess everywere, a hand coming up her face to try to muffle her desperate cries.

She really didn't know what was wrong with her.

Maybe she was the problem.

Everything came down like a ton of bricks falling on her, from the pressure of trying to be a role model for her family, to the hurtful words of Jean-Pierre that striked a nerve. Usually it wouldn't bother her that much and instead she would have a comeback ready to throw at him, but lately that wasn't the case, the highlights of her day used to be the moments were they started bickering at each other, sharing defying looks and victorius smirks in the way. She awaited those moments so eagerly.

But now she was lacking the strength to think on a smart jab to get right back at him, and even when she did manage to come up with something, it didn't bring her any satisfaction at all like it used to. Instead, she just felt drained.

Once again, the bell rang indicating to everyone that the classes resumed once again, but rather of getting out of her little hiding spot, she just stayed there, not feeling ready to face yet another deception.

Nor face again those mesmerizing green eyes.

A sharp headache made her wince slighty, she's been having them since a few days ago, sometimes were more powerful than others and today it seemed like one of the days were she felt like digging out her brain out of her head. She splashed some water on her face and looked at the mirror, looking away almost immediately when she took note of how sick she looked.

Opening the door, she carefully made her way to the infirmary, thinking to herself that some minutes with the school's nurse could excuse her absence in the class. A sudden feeling of dizziness caused by the sudden movement almost made her trip over, but before it happened, a strong hand took hold of her arm, keeping her from falling.

"What is wrong with you? Where the hell were you?" Jean-Pierre gave her a severe look that harbored his concern.

"I already told you to mind your own business." With all the strength she could muster, she pushed herself free out of his hold, the anger bubbling on her veins. "I don't owe you nothing, so get out of my sight and leave me the fuck alone. You would do me a great fucking favor."

Her harsh words left him completly dumbfounded, never before had she talked to him like that, even on the days when he annoyed her out of her mind. He saw how she moved towards the stairs, holding tightly onto the rails; moving closer to her hunched form, he felt the sudden and desperate need to ask her what was the problem, if he could help her in any way.

"I'm here against my will, Miss Couret sent me to look out for you." Was the only thing that came out of his mouth. "She was worried because she didn't saw you at recess, even more when you weren't at the classroom."

The lie slipped off naturally from him. Miss Couret didn't sent him to look out for her, he scaped class by coming up with some excuse about needing to ask something important about his latin competence, the truth was that he was the one who worried about her absence. But she didn't need to know that tiny detail.

Jean-Pierre would never admit it out loud, but he saw the drastic change on his rival's attitude, and it got him concerned. He would secretly listen to conversations of her friends that involved Y/N herself as a main topic, that's how he got to know how strict her parents were with her and it made his stomach churn with worry.

The weird thing was, he really didn't know why he cared so much, neither why he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was the first thing on his mind when he waked up, thinking about new ways to annoy her and have her total attention on him, he thought about her on the afternoon while doing homework, wondering if she managed to do the excersices better that him, and she was also his last thought before dozing up to sleep, anxiously waiting for the morning to come to do that rutine all over again.

He really didn't knew why.

A grip on his sleeve made him stop on his tracks and turn his torso towards her, his free hand instinctively coming up to rest it on her forearm.

"I think I will pass up." She mumbled with a lost look on her eyes. "If you let me fall, I will kill you, Magnan."

And not even a second later, everything turned black to her.

- - - - - - - - - -

The fist thing she noticed was the slight smell of pine blending up with the strong one coming out of the medicines, a small sigh leaving her lips before opening her eyes, stumbling almost immediately with the image of Jean-Pierre sitting beside the bed she was lying, and from what she could see, he was engrossed with a latin book.

Her heart raced and a hundred thoughts per second invaded her head. He could've left her with the nurse to come back to class, why was her still there? Was he waiting for her to wake up? But also, what if he was only there to be the first one to laugh at her? The questions overwhelmed her inmensely, so she decided to ask first the important ones.

"How long have I've been unconsious?" The sudden sound of her voice making him shot his head up, she could swore he almost looked relieved.

"I, uhm... Here, I bet you are thirsty." He cleared his voice before handing her a cup of water. "It wasn't for that long, just a couple hours. The school's over in less than forty minutes, so we can go home anytime."

She emitted a groan. "No wonder why I feel like I slept for years, I missed the whole day!" Leaving the cup on the bedside table, she glanced quickly around the nursery. "Where's Mrs. Bellanger?"

"Some kid was playing too hard and broke his arm in the process, she told me to keep an eye on you while she took him to the hospital." He paused, momentarily doubting if he should keep going. "She also told me that you passed out due to a huge lack of sleep and a possible unbalanced diet. Tell me, did you thought that it was smart? To harm yourself in order to have the acceptance of some idiots who can't see your real value? It's not worth it if you end up like this."

As if it were an habit, her eyes got teary, losing the count on how many times she cried on the day. It bothered her so much, even more that it was happening in his presence. For a moment, he almost sounded so consternated... But either way, she wouldn't tolerate being scolded like a kid.

"Excuse you?" She exclaimed, an evident frown on her face.

"Don't try to play dumb. You know what I mean."

"Oh, so you want to know why? I'm the first granddaughter, the first niece, the first child, the older sister... It's obvious that I have to make some sacrifices, even if it's at my own expense. After all, everyone expects so much more from me." The words came out slower than before and full of venom. "Yes, it may not be really healthy, but I push myself because it's the only way to make them proud of me, and it's something that I believed you would understand, Magnan."

"And you are not wrong, I do understand you." He took a few seconds before saying his next words. "That's why I don't want you to pressure yourself to be someone that you aren't, I know what it's like to be pressured by your parents -..."

"No, you don't. You don't know how my parents are!" She interrupted him. "You don't know how it is to be belittled when you don't achieve something worthy of their interest, you don't know how its like to feel proud of yourself because you thought that you finally did something right just to find out that you failed again, or to spend every second of the day studying, priving yourself of having a social life just to feel miserable at the end of the day. And you definitely don't know how it's like to live your whole life without knowing if your family even likes you."

She didn't know when she started to cry, much less in what moment Jean-Pierre got close enough to wrap her in a tight embrace. But suddenly, she felt like the constant emptiness in her chest was being filled with something much greater than a temporary stability brought by false acceptance, it was an unknown warm and fuzzy feeling that made her anguish vanish away. It felt like that was all she needed throughout her life.

They pulled apart slowly, his hands immediately went to her face to wipe away any traces left of tears on her cheeks, and they stood there, looking at each others eyes, feeling as if they were frozen in time. 

"I may not understand entirely, but I can learn how to." He murmured. "I really want to understand you."

"But why would you bother?" She asked, confused and desperate to know. "Since the moment we met, the only thing we do is argue, we hate each other!... I tried to hurt you so many times and you have done the same to me, so please, make me understand, why would you want to help me? Why do you care?"

"Because I care about you, deeply." The words came out breathless, his eyes trying to desperately find her gaze. "I really don't know how to describe what I feel, but I do know that every time I see you, my heart goes crazy, and sometimes I wonder if it will come the day where it's going to jump out of my chest to go chasing after you. I know that every time you laugh with another person, I wish with all my soul to, someday, be worthy enough to be the cause of your smile. But I do know that if I hated you, really did, I would be happy for your downfall, but I'm not, because I can't force me to act as if I don't care about you, not anymore."

Jean-Pierre wasn't a man or words. All his life he struggled to express his feelings, but this time, it was different.

"One of the things I admire you for is the way that you don't never give up, it doesn't matter how many times I get a slighty better mark, you study harder until beating me up the next time we have an exam. You are resilient, and so damn smart that it makes me feel jealous sometimes, because I wish I could have a little bit of the determination that you possess, and I can't comprehend why you focus on your non existing flaws and ignore all your strenghts."

"I never thought..." She began with a whisper, attempting to make a joke in order to not break down completely. "I never thought that someone could ever think that highly of me, not even you."

"How could I not? You are the most incredible person I ever met, Y/N."

A violent sob reverberated on the nursery walls, and before she could even feel shame for shattering that easily due to the sweetest words she ever heard, she found herself on Jean-Pierre's hold once again.

It felt like they spend a lifetime in that embrace, hearing nothing more than the rapid beats of their hearts and sharing everything they didn't had the courage to say out loud, not yet. Squeezing the hug one last time before breaking away, she dried her face with the sleeves of her blouse, his adoring eyes never leaving her.

"Now, what? What's next from this point?" Fearfully, she asked.

"Now... I will walk you home." Seeing her confused frown, he added rapidly. "If you want to be the number one, you have to be better than me, and the first step to achieve that is to sleep well and eat some real food. You have to take care of yourself, then we will work on the rest."

"We? You will help me beating you up?"

"I want to help you to become a better version of yourself. If that costs me becoming the second of the class, then so be it."

He extended his arm in her direction, encouraging her to hold it. Slowly, she got up from the bed and hooked their arms together.

"I must admit that my home is far away and I came walking today, so you can still back down if you want."  

"Only a fool could reject such offering."

She exhaled a shaky breath, never expecting that answer. As they made their way towards the door, a sudden question hitted her.

"How did you know about my problem with my family?"

"I accidentally overheard a conversation, I didn't realise it was about you until they named you." An overwhelming warmth creeping up his face.

"Of course, 'accidentally'."

"Shut up." His reddening cheeks and the obvious attempt of a lie didn't went unnoticed, earning a light giggle from the girl.

That fluttery sensation came back to her. She never thought that it would be possible to feel this smitten over someone, even if she still struggled to admit it. While the boy couldn't stop thinking of how fortunate he felt in those moments, with the person he couldn't stop dreaming about holding onto him and walking her home for the first time, and hopefully not last. The warm breeze of the spring surrounding them as they made their way out of the school between laughs and jokes, secretly wishing to have more moments like this one in the future.

#jean pierre x reader #jean pierre magnan #jean pierre magnan x reader #mixte 1963 x reader #mixte1963 #mixte 1963 #academic rivals #voltaire high

[raainberry]

How and When I Fell For You (This is)

« To be attracted to someone and start to love that person. »

Momo x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - how would a college romance start out between two equally awkward engineering student and dancer?

wordcount - 3.2K

T/W - Alcohol, Food, Drugs (mentions, allusion)

A/N - took a (long) while but im happy with how it turned out, i hope you enjoy it!

10:26pm.

Four minutes. Four more minutes of looking at that textbook, then you could leave. Question of principle, you weren’t going to finish solving that stupid problem by 10:30pm, but at least you’d have stuck to the schedule.

Hundreds of pen taps against your head, leg bouncing up and down underneath the wooden desk, your whole body itched at the mere thought of leaving this place. The party you were heading to after was much more exciting to think about than this theorem.

The chaotic and carefree atmosphere wasn’t something you particularly liked, but you needed to let your hair down every once in a while, your friends made sure of it.

10:29… 10:30pm sharp. You closed your textbook and laptop shut, shoving them into your bag in one swift motion before leaving the chair you’d been warming up for the past three hours.

Your feet felt heavy, dragging them to that party was going to be a little harder than expected. The all nighters were catching up to you, and it seemed you weren’t the only one.

The girl trailing behind you carried herself the same way. You were far enough ahead to hold the exit doors for her, which allowed you to take in her appearance. Hands in her sleeves, hood over her head as her soles barely left the ground. The sight was nothing extraordinary, it was about the same energy as any other student in that building, but something about her made it captivating enough for your eyes to stay on her longer than deemed normal.

Her eyes met yours for a split second as she walked past you, leaving behind her a small but thankful nod and a surprisingly fresh, fruity smell you’d remember for a moment.

Had you not been to that party, that scent was going to be the only thing you’d remember. The girl wasn’t going to be anything special on your mind, time would have erased the interaction faster than the beloved citrus you’d picked up from around her.

Memories and taste are weirdly linked.

That explained the gag reflex that vodka shot pulled from your throat when your friends waved one in your face. Ironic when you thought about the lack of memory triggering it: a blackout night you emerged from in an unknown living room with barely any knowledge of who you were.

That didn’t stop you from downing it with a lovely orange juice though, earning cheers from your peers. A wall crumbled around your brain, one less keeping you from normal social interactions.

Alcohol was fun for you. Alcohol made you brave. Alcohol made you friends. The lack of inhibitions was liberating at small doses. Devastating at abusive ones. Somewhere in between in moderation.

Somewhere in between… That’s where you were when the citrus scent filled your nose again. Surely you weren’t that far gone yet. This wasn’t something your brain had made up because she stood in front of you, all glamed up and beautiful.

The girl you’d held the door for. Flashes of you making way for her hours ago flooded both your minds, pulling a laugh out of you and a stare out of her.

The fact that you bumped into each other in a doorway was funny enough of an event for you to giggle before the liquid in your veins voiced your thoughts.

“Woah, it’s you!” You yelled over the music with little care for her earsdrums. The latin song was enough pressure on them, she was trying to get away from the blaring speakers while yours enjoyed it as much as the drink in your hand.

Demente. The melody kept singing, describing the way you felt when her eyes met yours and seemed to do so for the first time in her life. Life has a sense of humor.

“Oh, I held the door for you like an hour ago? At the library?” You reminded, or asked, you weren’t sure. You’d seen her already, right? You were drunk, not crazy.

Thankfully she proved you right when her gaze softened. “Right. Well… Thank you.” She mumbled because maybe that’s what you wanted out of this. She knew she hadn’t been the most polite with that nod, but it was better than nothing, which is what followed your brief conversation.

That was it.

She just pushed past you after that, and you were still too shy to follow up on anything. She was already far away by the time you even came up with an obvious “you’re welcome”.

That was your first encounter with Momo.

—

The second was a little less pathetic. Mainly because it didn’t involve you speaking nor actually interacting with her.

Your eyes were pleading for a break from the complex numbers and formulas on your screen, and found sweet relief in your bland surroundings. Beige outdated walls never looked so good until the door girl from a week prior grazed them.

Her stride was a little brighter, still visibly defeated but at least there was a sense of purpose. You wondered where she was heading, your brain too caught up in how cute she looked to make sense of the clothes she wore.

That you could only do on your third encounter: the most pathetic of them all.

Looking back, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but you sure didn’t want to ever see the face you made throughout the whole stage you saw her on.

She turned out to be part of the dance team, something your College was most famous for. The whole arts program was as prestigious as your engineering one, if not more. Aspiring artists all over the country dreamed of making it on, something only the most talented were able to make into their reality.

If you doubted that fact before (which you didn’t), seeing Momo on that stage was enough to make your mind up.

It was only a rehearsal. The very first one that took place months before the real deal, when her performance blew your mind out of the room, transcending through the sound you were supposed to monitor.

Three year-end shows in three years on this campus, you had yet to witness such talent. That wasn’t exactly what piqued your interest though. The girl on stage seemed different from the one you held the door for. Yet similar to the one who grazed the walls with purpose.

Three different versions of one person, all in a week of knowing about her existence. A smile pulled at your lips as your brain grew entertained by the situation.

How many versions were there? Which one was the real one? Were they all real?

The engineering mind is ever so curious. Hopefully you’d be able to satisfy it and see more of her.

—

“Hi.”

That’s all you managed to say to her for weeks after rehearsal. You liked to think you were doing well, earning a little more than a nod after some time: a smile.

You had yet to hear her voice. That time at the party didn’t count, you barely could make out her few words. Their number never increased. She could only return your “hi” a month later, when you caught another version of her at another party.

She was proud of this one. The entertainer. She needed a few drinks in her for it to come out, the pain in her head in the morning was never fun, but the moment was.

The lights, the eyes, the attention on her… Some kind of harmless drug she got high on and never came down from. Purely recreational.

Her heart raced yet she felt at peace. This part of her was undoubtedly hers. You had no reason to look so surprised in the crowd.

“Hi.” She finally spoke when you crossed path in a quieter part of the house. A purple lit corridor on the first floor, near a wooden and trashed staircase.

Everything short of an elegant place to meet your future lover, but quite the memory for the start of a wonderful friendship.

“How are you?”

You smiled as her voice reached your ears for the first time. It was nothing familiar, weird even as you tried to associate it with such a familiar face.

It’s harder to hear new sounds than to see new things. Yet to understand something, you need both. They’re complimentary. Maybe that’s why your mind was only satisfied whenever you spoke with her.

—

The campus library loved to put Momo in your path, and she grew to love being in the way. Glimpses of your nose burried in textbooks that you only lifted to send her a smile as she walked by. A short moment she looked forward to as days passed.

Your demeanor was everything but what she had witnessed so far. You had been the bold one until the purple corridor. A couple weeks had passed since. You’d ended up taking a walk that night, circling the house too many times to count before wrapping it up in the early spring grass of the backyard. Flowers went to sleep around you, lulled by the soft sound of your voices as you opened up to each other.

Had it been too much? Would you rather have kept things as simple and mysterious as they were? But then you wouldn’t smile at her… Why weren’t you saying hi anymore though? Did she make you nervous?

Your behavior was intriguing yet undeniably endearing. She wanted to see more of you.

“Hi.” She smiled, leaning against the sound console you were sitting at.

Another rehearsal, a routine one used to check up on the progress of the show reunited the two of you.

She came up to you first for the second time, surprising and enabling your curious self. She sounded different though. Less confident, but ever so lovely.

You couldn’t help but wonder what made the difference. You’d come up with a theory; one where the confident dancer was everything that shy student wanted to be.

Although she had nothing to be shy about in your eyes, it was funny how she was anyway. Were you the one making her shy?

“Hi. You did amazing.” You smiled back and Momo chuckled as her lips made way for a bright grin.

“Thank you. I mean, I feel like I was all over the place but I really appreciate it.” She confessed, running a hand through her hair.

“If you were, you did an amazing job at covering it.” You joked, silently referring to how charismatic she was on that stage. “So…” You trailed off, trying to navigate the slightly awkward atmosphere. “Have you been doing well?”

“I have, yeah.” She nodded. “What about you?”

“Good. I’ve been good.”

The awkward silence won very easily. You nodded a couple times and glanced over her shoulder, mind wandering in search of a way to ask her about your previous encounter.

She beat you to it.

“Uhm… I wanted to say thank you for listening to me that night.” She spoke, although hesitantly. “That was really nice of you.”

You didn’t need to be familiar with her voice to know it came from the heart. It warmed yours to think about the comfort you might have brought her.

If it were like that all the time she wouldn’t mind having you around.

So the next time you smiled at her from afar, she crossed the distance in between your feet.

Just to say hi.

You answered her every time for the next few weeks, and she smiled back at you whenever you asked about her and how well she was doing.

She nodded along whenever you vented about numbers, coding and theorems. She giggled whenever you joked around and poked fun at your surroundings or yourselves.

She tagged along when you had to make a small impromptu trip to the convenience store a month later.

She laughed for hours with you, sharing stories about herself and thanked you for the food and the joy you’d given her.

She felt she had made a true friend that evening. One she could count and rely on whenever her environment became too big of a distraction.

That evening was the first time your heart skipped a beat for her.

—

Momo was talented. There was no doubt about that, until she faced the mirror with a weakened mind.

The year end show, which served as a final exam for the dance team, was coming up quick. That meant she spent most of her time at the studio. Day and night, skipping a few classes to get a few moves down.

It was fine. You didn’t see a problem with it, until you learned a few meals were skipped too. So you made sure to bring her some food whenever she practiced late, which was nearly everyday.

The sound of her panting reached your ears as soon as you opened the door. You peeked inside, seeing she was alone tonight and stepped in just as she noticed your reflection.

Momo turned to you, the grin on her face genuine and bright as she walked to meet you halfway. She wasn’t sure of the cause behind her increasing heart rate, but she knew your arms would soothe it.

“I brought you a few things.” You smiled, and she nodded before pulling you in for hug, barely sparing a glance at the plastic bag in your hands.

The feeling of your arms around her was better than the smell of her favorite food. She had to seek it out for her own comfort and sanity.

This whole year-end show thing was slowly driving her crazy.

She had been struggling to get some details down, and you watched for weeks as she obsessed over the way her body moved.

Perfection was the standard here. She knew that as much as the next person. She never held herself up to less than that, but for some reason she couldn’t do anything right that night.

The hours she’d been putting were catching up to her, limbs failing on her more often as minutes passed by. The song mashup played over and over, keeping you from dozing off on the familiar leather couch. The food sat untouched at its foot, cold and slowly developing into a digestive threat.

The phone in your hand had long lost your attention, battery on its last leg when the percentage warning popped as a last attempt to get it back.

Your eyes stayed on her though, tired but mesmerized. You couldn’t tell what she thought was so wrong in her execution. She had performed the whole routine perfectly for the tenth time when the loop she was stuck in finally broke.

A sudden groan through her gritted teeth, her body giving out before hitting the ground, the tears in her eyes burning her cheeks red… It all startled you to your feet, running to her side as if it’d keep her from falling even lower.

Her body was fragile in your arms but her priority seemed to be hiding from you. Her hands attempted to conceal her weakness displayed by her treacherous sobs.

As much as your heart urged you to push them away, you helped her hands by looking away, but never let go of her. Your arms tightened around her, bringing her face closer to your neck.

Her tears were warm against her palms, rivaling with the warmth in her chest. The worries on her mind slowly faded, replaced with thoughts of you. Of your arms around her, of your fingers in her hair and the way your own palm rested against her ear as you held her close.

You held your breath as her every cry hit your chest. Your own attempt at soothing the pain it caused within it.

“You’ve been doing a great job, Momo. Don’t beat yourself up.” You tried to reassure her with the truth. “You’re gonna be amazing as always.”

Just in case your words weren’t enough, your hand awkwardly patted the side of her upper arm, though your soul yearned to ease hers in a more traditional manner.

Maybe later. Another time. This one wasn’t right.

—

“Oh my gosh—I did it!”

Coming from Momo, the words weren’t that surprising to hear. In fact, you expected them with a grin as you stood a few feet away from the result board.

It was all a little dramatic, you never understood why they couldn’t just send the exam results through e-mail like everyone else. Then again, this wasn’t your usual College. You were just thankful to have actually passed, happily missing out on the public display of disappointment.

“Y/n, I made it! I’m still gonna be on the team next year!” Momo squealed as she ran towards you.

Welcoming her with arms wide open was a reflex at that point, but it never meant less than the first time you’d done it. You giggled along with her as well, still unsure why but it had become a natural reaction within you.

Maybe it was the way her nose scrunched whenever she was happy. You felt a wave of joy and excitement as you realised just how often you witnessed it.

You made her happy. Or at least, she was happy around you. Maybe that’s why she trusted you enough to catch her when she threw herself in your arms, legs wrapping around your waist.

That wasn’t a habit.

That never happened before.

Yet your arms found themselves around her, holding her tight despite being frozen in place.

That was the second time your heart skipped a beat for her. The third one happened just seconds later, when you felt her lips against your cheeks.

She must be really happy, you thought. You sure were as time seemed to stretch, making her kiss linger on…

Dramatic. Maybe you belonged in this school in more ways than one.

“Sorry, I’m emotional.” She said, pulling away just enough to look at you.

Again, it was the first time she kissed you. So why did it felt like the most natural thing in the world?

“I-It’s fine.” You stuttered, all the way down to your smile.

“Are you sure? What’s that about?” She giggled, cupping your cheeks. Her fingers were soft against your skin, a new feeling that left you breathless though her voice was familiar enough to know she was teasing you about the blush on your cheeks.

“I’m hot— It’s hot.” You pointed out. It wasn’t a lie. Using it as an excuse made it one.

“It is, yeah…” She nodded. “Or am I?”

Your arms nearly gave out and dropped her. Momo felt your limbs falter around her, but it only made her laugh and tighten her own around you.

“You know, I wasn’t lying when I said I’m emotional. I’m feeling a lot of things, and a lot of them…” She trailed off, eyes stuck on yours as her heart picked up the pace once more.

There was no backing out now.

She could feel her throat dry up, her tongue knotting itself as she tried to get the words out of her heart. The air was becoming thicker by the second, making it hard to even as much as breathe them out.

“Momo, I—” You started, and it seemed that’s all she needed. The sound of your voice, of her name coming from you.

It all seemed easier now.

“A lot of them are for you.” She finally finished, eyes closed as anticipation and embarrassment suddenly hit her.

That pulled a soft chuckle out of you, which washed it all away and pulled them back to yours. Just in time to catch them slipping down to her lips.

You saw her smile, the cutest one yet before realizing she was leaning in. Apparently she didn’t need you to say anything. The way you looked and smiled at her was enough.

It had started that way after all.

#momo x reader #twice x reader #hirai momo #twice momo #momo imagines

[itsmadamehydra]

Doll Face | Fezco Euphoria

part 1 part 2

Pairing: Fezco x Latina!Mouse sister! reader

Summary: Mouse's sister was an excellent girl, a good student even, until life happened and she had to leave every dream behind. A particular friend was left behind too in the process. Years later, they meet again, but they aren't the kids they once used to be.

Warnings: 1.8+ words, mouse sister, drug life, language, non-desired-sexual situations, forced sexual labor, exploitation of teenage girl, abuse, abusive household

a/n: Ok, Spanish is my first language and English second, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. Second, I tried to research if Mouse was of any latin american origin, but I couldn't find any information. The actor is referred to as Lating King, so I'll use that as a reference. Thank you for reading! Hope you like it. Any suggestions will be highly appreciated <3

It had always seemed funny to you. The reaction on people’s faces when they came to know whose sister you were. At first, you were proud, sort of. You knew your family didn’t dedicate themselves to an average 9-5 job pretty early. But that never stopped you from feeling happy by having them around you most of the time.

It was like a dream at first. You would come from school, and your mama would always be beside your papá, talking about something you were too young to understand thereupon. Your big brother was known to be in his room with his friends, and you weren't allowed inside.

That didn’t bother you. It never did because at the end of the day, you would all sit down to dinner together and it felt amazing having to see people gather random things to use as chairs because there were just too many people.

It all just seemed like a big diverse family. You loved it.

You were a straight-A little girl type, and papá always made sure to share with you that you would be the first of the family to ever go to college. You were going to become the pride of your family.

Teachers loved you and never had any problem when you asked for extra help. Even your classmates were always helpful and nice towards you, especially one guy that you had math class with.

Fezco

He was one of the nice weird kids. He didn’t talk with anyone much, but you like to believe you were his exception.

It all started due to you not noticing the exercises at the back of the page at that time, you were sitting in front of him, and he noticed this.

“Uhm, hey, sorry, but I think your page is kinda…blank” he drew your attention by tapping your shoulder softly.

“What do you mean?” you stared at him, confused.

“Well, yeah. The back side is blank.” he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to make you understand

“There was a backside!”

“There’s always a back part in math, little girl.”

“Shit- Sorry!” you covered your mouth, embarrassed.

“What are you sorry for?” he looked at you confused.

“I- well… I cursed. Ladies aren’t supposed to curse.”

“Why?”

“It’s unethical.”

“Huh,” he inhaled, “Well, the teacher is about to collect the homework, so if you want to copy from mine, go ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ok, thank you so much, Fezco.”

“Call me Fez.”

“Fezco.”

“Alright.”

After that, it seemed like he had chosen you to be his partner in any class you had together. From that moment on, he would always whisper the answers in your ear, making sure you always had the same as his.

He would even grab your homework and correct your mistakes. It seemed so easy for him that you started to believe he was a genius.

“You are one smart mathematician,” you murmured once as you lay beside him on one of the school’s rooftops.

“A what?” he moved his head to the side, trying to get a glimpse of you.

“Mathematician, you will be a great one day.’

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Oh, you know…a person who likes and is good at math.”

“Hell yeah. I'll be one, doll face.”

“Fezco! No cursing.” you giggled.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

You smiled, looking at each other barely, holding in your giggles.

And then everything went to shit.

“Mami! Papi! I’m home!” you entered your home with your cheeks painted and a big smile, hoping to see your parents in the living room, but only your brother was to be found with a bottle in hand.

“Hey, have you seen-”

“They ain't coming back home, little one.” he took one sip.

“What do you mean? They went on a field trip and didn’t take me?”

“Yeah. But more like they went to heaven.”

“Heaven? But that's a few hours away,” you tried, you really tried to be oblivious. Act stupid, “I read it on a map!”

“You can’t be that dumb,” he chuckled sourly, “Mom and pops are dead, and you know that.”

You stayed quiet. Looking at him and trying to keep your tears inside, hoping to be a cruel joke from your big brother.

“Now, I need you to understand something else,” he stood up, walking towards you, completely towering over you, “No more school for you.”

“What?” you whispered.

“I don’t need some governmental shit to be put inside your brain when you could be doing something more beneficial for me, us.”

“But I don’t wanna leave school,” you whined sweetly, “Papi said I would go to college!”

“Pops said it, not me,” he grabbed you from your low ponytail without pulling, twisting it around his fingers. “You’r ‘bout to learn about the family business, little sissy.”

And just like that, your life went spiraling into a deep pile of shit and more shit.

It started simple, nothing too hardcore. You prepared his pre-rolled, and he said your petite fingers were perfect for the job. Then, you started addressing him as “Mouse” since he has some respect to show or something along the lines.

And you did that for quite a long time, being grateful to keep some sort of young teen childhood innocence. Until one of his friends mentioned something about your changing body.

“Yo! Mouse! Your sister si que tiene unas lindas tetas eh! ¿A cuanto por una sobada?” they all laughed, but you knew your brother had a realization. (Your sister has a nice pair of tits, how much for a touch?)

His little sissy wasn't so little anymore. And lucky you, the neighborhood home strip club was taking applications, and they loved young girls.

“Pero mira que lindo lugar te conseguí hermanita, ¿a que no?" he laughed, licking his lips at the sight of the bare chest and intimate parts by the women dancing or waitress. (Look what a nice place I got you lil’ sissy, pretty isn't it?)

“I don’t want to be here, Mouse,” you said with a scared tone, “I don’t feel comfortable.”

“What you mean!?”

“I want to leave now, Mouse,” you said, trying to sound stern and covering your eyes to bring the different color neon lights.

If you had not, you would have seen him before he pulled you by your hair.

“Mouse!”

“Shut your fucking mouth and listen!” he spoke in your ear, spitting saliva, “You ain't eating nor coming home hasta que me traigas minimo mil, got it?” you nodded. (until you bring me at least a thousand)

“But how am I going to get you that?”

“Well, why else would I bring you here!? You got the place and a job start dancing!”

You looked at all sides, looking for some type of explanation or help, but all you could notice were a few pity looks from the women already working there.

“But…I am just fifteen, and I do not have any clothes like those,” you tried hard to convince him to take you away from there.

“C’mon I was thirteen when I banged my first chick, besides you got underwear underneath that, right?”

You nodded, unsure.

“Then don’t come back until you have that money in hand we clear.”

“Como el agua,” you murmured (like the water)

It took you some time to gather the money. It took you long enough to gather the courage to walk out of the dressing room in your underwear. Thankfully, some women there pitied you and gave you some money so you didn't have to socialize too much with the customers.

That day you became aware of how disgusting looks from men and women could be. But you became happy when at the end of the third day, the money had been collected. Until you were about to leave, the place and the owner took half of your money.

That’s when you knew that they take half of the tips, more if you get opinionated about it.

You had to work for it, they said. To start showing some more for some extra bills. To hide it somewhere, they won't see it.

Took you some time, but you felt elated when you knocked on that worn-down door you loved.

“Here’s the money,” you placed it in his hand with a smile, and he threw 100 back at you.

“Go get some work clothes and your food for a month.”

“What?”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen”

“At seventeen, you start paying rent.”

Then, you were his investment. His friends and co-workers wanted to see you dance. They wanted to see you shake your chest and back for them. They wanted to touch you. And if you objected? A dislocated shoulder, 3 broken ribs, and black-eyed followed you for a month, and you objected…a lot.

But you learned how to handle it. You had to and became a pro. The favorite one in the club, and the best one of Mouse’s girls, even if you had to do some things you despised.

At least you were treated better.

And then, you saw him.

You were at home, doing some dances for Mouse’s people along with two other girls.

You had numbed yourself and your emotions. You had created an alter ego and a safe place in your mind where you could wander off whenever you were working. Funny enough, you had come to like dancing with a pole. You found it artistic, just not the other things it came with.

You were concentrated on grinding on top of the man beneath you, concentrated in your safe place. Ignoring his wandering hands beneath your work clothes, his groping. But some voices distracted you. You switched positions so you could stare at the men coming in.

It was a redhead, and he seemed…cute.

You could hear them going and on about quantities and deadlines, and you better pay me up before blah, blah, and more blah.

“You know what, I liked you, carrot boy,” Mouse smiled, rubbing his palms against each other, “Let me gift you with one of my best girls. Sweetcheecks, com’ere!”

“She’s busy, my man,” said the man underneath, simulating pounding into you while you kept grinding him with him groping your chest.

“Not‘nymore, fuck off,” he grabbed him by the arm and pulled the redhead to your seat, “Treat him good, will ya?”

You nodded and started doing your job. It was actually easy to please a man. Just some elaborate touching and grinding, especially grinding, and to let them touch whenever and wherever.

You could feel him looking at you, his eyes locked. Almost making you feel embarrassed by what you were doing. He seemed like the gentle type. He even kept his hands to himself. You could be wrong, and when you felt his hand grabbing you by your neck and taking you near his lips. You knew you were wrong. He needed some time before he felt full of himself and started groping you like the others.

“Doll face, is that you?”

part 2? Let me know...

#fezco x reader #fezco #euphoria #fezco euphoria #fez x reader #fezco fanfic #fezco x y/n #fezco imagine #fezco supremacy #fezco fic #fezco fanfiction #fezco fluff #fez euphoria #euphoria fanfic #fez x y/n #fez x female reader #fez x you #euphoria imagine #euphoria hbo #maddy perez

[welcometotheravenclawcommonroom]

(South) Indian Harry Potter Headcanons:

Harry knew he was Indian (mostly because the Dursley’s used to say racist shit to him) but he didn’t know where in India the potters were from until he went to Hogwarts. He finds out from the Patils, who were close with the potters because desis stick together.

The Patils are from the north and use Hindi to speak to each other. Neither of them knows Telugu/Tamil/Marathi/Malayalam/insert Southern language of choice here (I personally headcanon Telugu because it’s the only Indian language I speak and because there’s a huge diaspora of telugumandi in the west, but feel free to choose whatever you’d like). So Harry has to rediscover his heritage language on his own.

He also studies Sanskrit, and it opens up a HUGE world of spells that they don’t teach at Hogwarts (because of course Indian wizards don’t do spells in Latin). He and the Patils know a bunch of spells that nobody else does.

Harry’s pleat game is ON POINT. It makes sense, since he had to do all the chores at the Dursley’s and that includes perfectly folded and ironed laundry with the edges aligned neatly, or else he would risk being punished. But the result is that if you want your saree drape to pass the inspection of even the most judgemental auntie, you go to Harry to help with your pleats.

Even when they’ve graduated and all have their own homes, it’s a pretty regular sight for the Patil twins to come through Harry’s floo, half dressed, to have Harry pleat their sarees or their lehenga dupatta for them.

Harry LOVES spices. The dursleys only liked bland food, but Harry has always liked flavorful foods, and has no problem with (hot) spicy food either. He uses lots of spices in his own cooking now. His food is very flavorful, but when he’s cooking for himself, it’s too spicy for all his friends (even the Patils). So nobody can eat his leftovers unless he was specifically cooking with other people in mind. Ron learned this the first time he rummaged through Harry’s fridge after a night of drinking. Now Harry labels all his food as to whether or not it’s “Harry spicy”.

James LOVED to buy Lily sarees. He’d order them with custom, wizard-themed designs from weaving villages in south India. The women who made them assumed he was just very imaginative, so he wasn’t violating the statute of secrecy since saree patterns are often vibrant and unique. Harry finds some of them in the old potter manor, and they still smell like the perfumes and scented oils his mother would wear when James took her to the local temple for Hindu holidays.

Indian witches often store extra magic in or enchant pieces of their copious jewelry with spells that can keep them safe if they’re ever in a situation where they don’t have their wands. stuff like, each bangle can function as an emergency portkey that can take you to different safe locations if you say the activation word, or ones that create an instant magical shield when you tap them. Harry finds some of his mothers gajulu, gives them to his female friends.

He ties Rhaki on Ron and Neville, and all the weasley boys. Ron was the first person he ever tied it on, because Ron was the first person who he ever bonded with, and his closest brother.

Harry always cooks idli sambar or dosa for his friends for breakfast the next morning after a night of drinking together, and it’s the perfect hangover food because it definitely brings you back to full alertness/knocks the last bit of post-hangover grogginess right out of your system.

Harry’s parselmouth abilities are valued in his native culture because of the sacredness of snakes in Hinduism, and it comes to be something he’s really proud of (personally I think the ‘parselmouth connected to the horcrux’ thing is dumb, so I’ve always imagined Harry was just naturally a parselmouth).

As the number of Indian immigrants/expats continues to grow after they graduate, Harry helps some of his students (he’s the DADA teacher) start the Hogwarts “South Asian Student Union”.

He always has snacks out for his students when they come to visit his office hours, and they’re all Indian snacks and sweets. His personal favorite is kaju barfi, but he always has a good variety of both sweet and spicy treats, especially for stressed out owl and newts students.

He collaborates with Hermione, who works in the ministry, to make it mandatory for Hogwarts students to a “foreign magical language” course so they can broaden both their minds and their spell repertoires. Padma Patil becomes the “Sanskrit Spells” teacher, and Seamus teaches “Irish Gaelic”. (It took him a little longer to get his course started, since it turns out that at least 40% of Gaelic spells are just increasingly complicated and violent ways to repel the English).

Hermione and Harry also work together to make sure there are employees in the international magical cooperation department who specialize in post-colonial relations, because the magical world also has its issues with that colonialist mindset towards countries that were formerly part of the empire.

Just south Indian Harry embracing his heritage, learning about what was ripped from him, and using it to enact meaningful change in a multicultural magical society.

#mod des #hp #Harry Potter #South Indian Harry Potter #desi harry potter #Tamil Harry Potter #Telugu Harry Potter #Marathi Harry Potter #kannada Harry Potter #diverse magical world #also fuck jkr #Malay Harry potter

[panda-writes-kpop]

What does a demon and a function have in common? (You can test both of their limits!) - l. yb.

a/n: happy dami day! i know the timeline of this fic is messy, but just pretend that it's all okay and I will too :) also I wrote this because I was trying to understand my feelings as an aroace person towards love and I'm still really confused... but at least we got a good fic out of it! ❤️

tw: demons, undefined magic, lots of mentions of death, implied aroace! reader, a bit of religious trauma

word count: 2.6k

summary: you're in distress over your math homework and the pretty demon that helps you with it, and you're reluctant to let your heart do the talking since it ended pretty badly for your friend and her demon companion.

related fics: Demon! SuA - Tainted Love

♡ Masterlist ♡

You shouldn't do this.

You glare at the leather-bound book in front of you as you furiously erase another answer from your sheet of scratch paper. The book was a gift from a friend, one that had struggled with a demonic relationship before.

You hadn't heard from them in a year and a half, and from what you heard from mutual friends, they weren't doing too well. Although you weren't positive that the book was bad news, you had never seen your friend so desperate to remove an object from their grasp.

After doing a bit of research, you realized that it was a cursed tome. There were seven different markings on the cover, which meant that seven different demons were tied to the book. Luckily, only one had been released when your friend had opened the book.

Now, you had to be the one to safeguard it. To make sure that no one would ever be hurt by the book again.

But, as you stare at your Calculus homework, you realize that you have no idea what you're fucking doing. And at 10 p.m. the night before an exam, the tutoring center is closed and the professor is probably counting sheep while their students are stressing out.

You're well aware that it's a stupid, very dumb, unintelligent idea to open a cursed book in order to understand Calculus, but what other choice do you have? Do you fail this exam then fail the class, which would put you a year behind?

What would your peers say?

What would your family say?

A shiver down your back, from the looming threat of parental disappointment, causes you to drop your pencil and reach for the book. Your hand gently traces the seven etchings on the cover, and you notice that one isn't filled in with color. 

The demon that took my friend away.

You really shouldn't be doing this.

You think about the laundry list of concepts that you have to master by 10 a.m. tomorrow, and your decision has never been easier.

I'd rather stick my hand in an open flame than do another problem with no help.

When you open the book, you realize that you're blissfully unaware of how to summon a demon. Do you say a bunch of random words in Latin? Do you do a little hand motion? Do you need an offering?

You decide that your best option at summoning a demon that won't smite you immediately is to plead with the book.

Because desperate never goes out of style.

“Listen, I don't know who I'm talking to, if I'm even talking to anyone in the first place. I'm having a problem. …Well, it's not a ‘the fate of the world rests in your hands’ type of problem, but I still could use some help.”

An orange trail of smoke leaves the book in your hands and swirls like a tornado in an empty spot in your living room. Objects start flying around because of the tailwind, and you have to duck before you take a pencil to the eyeball. 

“Who knew Calculus homework could be deadly?” You joke as you try to not think about the magnitude of the situation that you're in. You haven't even met the demon yet, and the smoke that it creates(?) it is trying to kill you.

Not a good sign.

Once your apartment is messy enough for your demon of choice, the book in your hands shuts itself as the orange smoke starts to dissipate. 

You set the book aside as you gawk at the woman- no, demon that stands in your living room. 

She's dressed in all black, ready to go to a funeral.

You just have to hope that it's not yours.

“How can I assist you?” She softly asks in a semi-uninterested voice.

“I need help with Calculus.” You blurt out as she clocks her head at you.

“I beg your pardon?”

~

This demon was exceptionally smart, which was good for your tired, mortal mind. She also didn't kill you on the spot - a good thing, you assume, unless the murder is waiting for you on the other side of the Calculus homework.

She was taken aback by your request, staring at you in utter surprise until she joined your side and helped you with your homework.

Her voice was gentle and smooth, and you would've fallen asleep if you weren't thinking about being killed in your sleep.

“Thanks.” You rub your eyes as you set the pencil down as you check your phone for the time.

You're proud of yourself for putting your phone on dark mode (you've flash-banged yourself in the past, it's a one time mistake) as you realize that it's only one in the morning. With a few hours of sleep and a large container of your favorite caffeinated drink, you'd be fine for your exam.

“Is that all you needed? …A bit of guidance with math?” The woman sitting beside you is in disbelief as you nod your head.

“Is there something wrong with that?” You joke, momentarily forgetting that she's a demon.

“Forgive me, but the people who usually hold the tome are more demanding… and a lot less cute.”

“Okay, back into the book you go.” You toss the book her way before trying to hide her embarrassment. 

She chuckles softly before running her fingers over the spine.

“You have no idea how any of this works, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod your head before starting to put your school stuff away.

“Right, right.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. “Dami.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head at her, but she snaps her fingers and disappears with the book in an instance.

Well, that damn book is out of my sight and I now have a chance to pass my Calc exam. I'll take that as a win-win.

~

You don't remember climbing into bed last night (this morning? The days are blending together at this point).

Before leaving your apartment, you say a small prayer before grabbing your pick-me-up of choice from the fridge. You might have this exam on lock.

As you walk to class, you recite Calculus formulas in your head. Partial derivatives swirl around your mind along with the thought of the mysterious woman.

Dami?

She's not a directional derivative, so you should focus on something else. 

You, at least, had the demon situation under control.

 ~

This semester, you officially renounced your academic weapon status; instead, you were an academic victim. Although you most definitely messed up the first problem (why do all of the problems have the same wording yet completely different solutions?), you had the rest of it down.

Your confidence evaporated when the two classmates behind you started discussing their answers and got completely different answers to you. 

Maybe another semester here wouldn't be so bad?

“You did fine.” 

You jump as your eyes lock with the demon from the night before.

“Sorry, sorry.” You apologize to the two people behind you as you step to the side to speak with Dami. “I like your confidence in me, and I wish I had a fraction of it for myself.”

“There's nothing wrong with having a little pride.” She shrugs as the doors to the lecture hall open.

“Well, at least there's another exam a few weeks after spring break.” Ryujin shrugs before closing the door and walking towards you. “How'd the exam go for you?”

“It was okay.” You softly shrug as you glance between Dami and Ryujin.

“You're too humble for how smart you are.” Ryujin scoffs before turning to Dami. “You new here?”

“I'm just visiting someone.” Dami winks at you, and your eyes avert her gaze afterwards.

Ryujin sighs before adjusting her backpack and clearing her throat.

“They're not interested in guys or girls…. or anyone, for that matter.”

You playfully smack Ryujjn's shoulder before she pretends to be in extreme pain from the hit.

“It's not an absolute thing. I'll know if there's someone I'm interested in.” You nonchalantly say as Ryujin checks her smart watch.

“Oh shit, I've got class in fifteen minutes halfway across campus. See ya!” Ryujin waves to you both before offering a nod to Dami. “Nice to meet you.”

She runs off in another direction as your attention turns to Dami.

“Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I haven't been out of that book for centuries. I just wanted to see how humans lived.” Dami folds her arms before walking to you. “The world is so much different… better, if you ask me.”

“You're not like any demon I've heard of.” You blurt out before biting your tongue. “Sorry, that's probably really mean to say-”

“It's okay, and to be honest, I'd be surprised if I was like any other demon that you met. Not all demons fall from the sky, you know.”

~

It's been three hours, and you're still trying to come to terms with the fact that Dami’s a fallen angel. Who says that to someone after only two interactions with them?

Dami, apparently, because she's been watching you like a hawk as you sit across from her in the campus library.

“You think of me differently, don't you?” 

You don't look up from your computer as you tap your pencil against the desk three times.

Click. Click. Click.

“I don't.” You calmly say before writing an equation in your notebook. “I should be honest with you, though, since you were honest with me. It's only fair.”

You pause for a moment as Dami folds her arms and leans against the chair. She's trying to remain cool, but a small twitch in her left eye tells you that she's more interested than she appears to be.

It's cute.

“I had a friend who summoned a demon from that book… I don't know her name, and I don't want to. She ruined my friend’s life, Dami.” You explain your friend’s story, going through agonizing detail as told through their family and other friends.

You have to pause once to wipe your tears, and Dami offers a comforting hand as the other drops to her side. You, albeit hesitantly, take it. 

She should be cold like ice- undead, unfeeling. But there's some sort of warmth in her touch that can't be explained by the hellfire that she resides in.

Perhaps she's already gotten attached to you. You feel it too, you want to trust her. Can you, though?

She hasn't torn your arm off yet, so you're starting off on the right foot.

Trauma dumping counts as bonding, right?

You bite your lip before shaking your head, feeling the uncertainty of everything crash against you. What are you doing, trusting a demon that hurt someone that you care deeply about?

I can't do this.

“I should go.” You pull your hand out of her grasp as you quickly try to pack your things up. “I'm sorry, I'm probably shit-talking one of your friends that you've known for centuries.”

As you reach for your pencil, Dami grabs your wrist.

“I can't promise that I'm a ‘good’ demon or person,” She softly exhales before looking in your eyes, “but I won't betray you. Not now. Not ever.”

Something pounds, but it's not your head, swimming from the thoughts of your friends and the demon in front of you.

It comes from deep inside you, a feeling that you thought would be forever foreign to you. A magical feeling that “normal” people got to feel. The thing that makes them human, after all.

Your heart pounds.

This isn't you. You need to leave. Now.

Without exchanging another word, you run off into the afternoon light. You know she might follow you, but you hope she'll give you some space. 

I hope she doesn't hate me.

You need to get a grip, and fast, before you rock the boat that's been steadily keeping you afloat for years.

~

Five hours. That's the longest you can last in a little internet cafe before you put your tail between your legs and head home. You know Dami will be there, and you don't want to sleep on a park bench, so home it is.

Will she be mad at me?

Who cares? You're not in love with her, you just like her. 

As a friend. 

As someone you can hang out with. 

Someone to share secrets with.

Friends can kiss, right?

You've known her for less than twenty-four hours. You need to find where your sense of reality has gone and reclaim it before you head into your apartment.

But the key is already in your hand.

Your feet walk up the stairs without your brain telling them to.

You unlock your apartment door to see someone quietly sitting on your couch - the same spot where she helped you with your math homework.

Your stomach and heart fill with dread as you slowly take off your shoes.

She's been kind to you, and you ran off because you were upset about your own feelings.

You felt like a petulant child.

“I'm sorry for running off. I got upset thinking about my friend, and I should have talked through my feelings like a fucking adult. You're not like the other demon, just as I'm not like my friend. Feeling trapped by someone else’s opinions of you is rough,” You toss the keys on the counter before shedding your coat, “trust me, I know.”

Dami looks back to you, and the moonlight casts her in an angelic glow - she was ethereal and you didn't doubt that she was once an angel. You'd be more surprised if she wasn't one of God’s favorites.

Why was she here, instead of in the sky? 

You don't want to pry, but Dami’s the first one to walk towards you.

“I was worried about you,” She softly admits, “a demon, a former angel, a creature much older than you could comprehend, was worried about the safety of a mortal.”

When she is close enough for you to reach out for her, she reaches out her hand.

“I'm not an evil demon or a perfect angel. But I can promise you-”

“I think I like you.” The words spill out of your lips before you can truly think about what you're saying. “I mean, of course I like you, but it's not how I've liked anyone before. I like Ryujin as a friend, she's nice to me and we get lunch sometimes. But you… you're different. And being different scares me. It's not just because you're a demon, it's who you are. It wouldn't matter if you were a demon, angel, or human because I'd still feel the same way.”

You pause to take a breath.

“I'm not normal, and I'm probably not like any human you've met. I don't want a traditional romance with a wedding or kids. I don't want physical intimacy with someone who won't appreciate me. Hell, I don't even know if I want a partner half of the time. The only thing I know,” You take her hand before pulling Dami closer, “is that I want you to be by my side. As a friend or as something more. Whatever we will be, I know we'll figure it out together.”

“I want you by my side as well.” She softly mutters as you place your forehead against hers.

You're both quiet as you envelope yourselves in the serene environment that you've created.

“So, do I meet your devilish friends now, or do I have to take you to dinner first?”

Dami laughs warmly before pulling you close to her.

“Whatever you want.”

You're in deep. She has in her talons sunk deep under your skin, in less than a day. 

She could betray you.

You had to learn how to trust her.

And in time, you will.

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #girl group x reader #girl group #girl group au #kpop au #dreamcatcher x reader #dreamcatcher au #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher reactions #dreamcatcher scenarios #kpop drabble #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher dami #dami imagines #dami x reader #dami #dami au #dami scenarios #lee yubin #dreamcatcher drabble #lee yubin au #lee yubin x reader #x reader

[yourtongzhihazel]

hello, are you under the impression that there is a non-capitalist economic system that eliminates the problem of powerful people exploiting the less powerful? Serious question.

Also, thanks for being a communist, and by that, I mean thanks for being a fascist. Don't worry, though, you aren't pissing on the graves of anyone who's been starved or killed by the systematic failures of communism to provide for the economic needs of those who live under it. Oh, and thanks for being a westerner, because I know you are! Just ignore all the oppressed people in eastern Europe and Asia who had to live through communism. You, who have enjoyed the high living standards brought about by capitalism and have known nothing but luxury that my immigrant parents wouldn't have dared dream of. What immense, staggering privilege you must be speaking from. I'm sure that privilege hasn't affected your perspective at all, though. But hey, you gotta know better than all those dirty immigrants who come to the west specifically for its liberal democracy and capitalism, right?

I'm going to stop insulting you and start being serious. Please reconsider your politics. Please reconsider your social circles. Please understand that just because someone says one good thing ("trans rights are human rights!") doesn't mean that everything they say is good ("Capitalism is killing us!") Please stop supporting communism, an authoritarian ideology that people are still suffering from. You could get out there and do some real good. Maybe serve meals to homeless people? I do that once a month.

are you entirely fucking serious

Do i have to wear a big fucking sticker that says "I am Chinese, my family and I have benefited greatly from communism"

How in the god damn hell can anyone see my blog and NOT see this? Should I change my got damn pinned post or something unbelievable.

Luxuries brought by capitalism? an economic system does no work. Who made those luxuries? Where did they come from? Who shipped it? Why did they make it ship it to where it went? Who bought it from who? Who sold it? The answers to these problems is found in political-economy. If you actually cared about where 79 cent bananas come from and why people from Latin America can only go to the us to escape their poverty, you would find that it is the united states who keeps Latin America in perpetual subjugation. Need I remind you that every single country (except Cuba) in Latin America is capitalist? Why are their failures not a reflection on the capitalist system to you? The "migrant crisis" is imperialism's chickens coming home to roost.

The extreme poverty rate in east Asia has fallen from 1 billion in 1990 to 25 million in 2019. Where did this poverty reduction take place? The People's Republic of China. In 2021, the PRC entirely eliminated extreme poverty within its borders. The PRC evaluates extreme poverty on a higher and stricter basis than the IMF or world bank uses so the number of people raised above poverty according to the CPC is LOWER than reported by western sources. One of the families who benefited from this poverty reduction? MINE. 800 million people raised out of poverty in the past 75 years. There are no bread lines in China. There is one in every city in america.

You want to know what I do? Im a union organizer. I worked with the DSA and the Teamsters to unionize Amazon. I am now working with the UAW as a union maid and recruiter for graduate students. Your band-aid solution of hunger does nothing to actually treat the root cause of hunger. Your understanding of politics and the economy is shallower than a puddle.

Start becoming more curious about the material causes of poverty and stop being a class traitor.

#i fucking hate liberals #mmp

[hedgiwithapen]

Jaime coming to terms with the fact he has an alien WMD in his spine and the fact he likes Khaji Da when others do not.

(vague movie spoilers here!) Jaime ducked over his textbook again, highlighter in hand. In the study corral beside him, his notebook was a mess of notes. To any of his classmates, it would be gibberish, which Khaji Da claimed was Ideal. 

"I don't think I need to worry about my grades being ruined by someone understanding my notes," he said to Khaji Da in a low voice, highlighting a section of Latin that Khaji Da helpfully provided translations for. 

"You should be more careful, Jaime Reyes," Khaji retorted, bringing up another option for cyphers. Jaime ignored the suggestion. "It's first year, they're all too busy studying to plot against me," he said, scanning the page again. It was nice to have a scholarship that covered everything, even textbooks, so he could buy them--new, even--instead of renting.  It was even worth his Abuela's singing anytime Jenny's name came up.  Acting like this was a telenovela, instead of like it was money for his father's life, made it easier on everyone. 

"Danger," Khaji's alert voice broke through Jaime's concentration.

"Where?" he hissed, wondering if he could make it to the library stacks before suiting up. He hadn't been totally unaware, but Khaji Da's senses were a lot better than his own. 

"Three cubbies down. Brian is posting on his blog."

"Khaji, that's not an emergency. Stop spying on people," Jaime whispered. "Seriously, you can't just hack the library's wifi and, what, see what everyone is looking at? All the time?"

"Of course I can. It's easy." Khaji Da said. "And I don't look at everything. I do not enjoy looking at the porn. Brian is complaining about us."

"Khaji Da, we're going to have a talk about priv--what?"

"He is complaining about Blue Beetle. You. And Me. As if it was our fault about that building yesterday." Khaji Da paused, clearly reading something else. "I can show him a threat to humanity--"

"No," Jaime said, slightly too loudly. The student librarian at the circ desk glanced his way, trying to arch an eyebrow and not particularly succeeding. "Not in the library, Khaji. I mean, not at all. You have to let it go."

"He should not insult you. You are a good hero. I am going to give him a virus."

"Please don't," Jaime said, knowing it was probably too late.

"Too late," Khaji Da confirmed. "You are disappointed."

"Some," Jaime admitted. "Look, you can't just... react like that. Some people won't like us.  That's their problem."

"Yes, it is their problem. Now Brian has no laptop. That is a problem for him."

"That's not what I meant. We can't just attack anyone who doesn't like us."

"I did not! You were very clear that there were to be No Plasma Weapons In The Library. It is rule 47.  I will add a subsection about computer viruses. "

"Thanks. I think," Jaime said, looking back at his notes.

"You left out part of the definition."

"I used shorthand. and your code thingy. I got it. Don't worry."

#dammit hedgi day 2023 #Blue Beetle #Jaime Reyes #Khaji Da #rip brian :)

[m0rbidmacabre]

The Latin Professor

Part 2

Warnings: self doubt, self hate, low self esteem, romance, heavy smooching.

Copia’s public shaming turns into something magical thanks to his big brother’s idea.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 1, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 ����𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰! 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰.

Tags: @sodoswitchimage, @siouxbauhaus, @love-is-all-you-need-13

The Latin Professor

Part Two

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

The cardinal sat in utter shock, his smile quickly turning into a sadness in the pit of his stomach. You, his favourite student, his perfect sorella, had just ran away from him, leaving him sat in the gardens by himself. Thankfully the willow tree offered him some comfort in its low hanging leaves, leaving him feeling slightly less embarrassed by the public shaming he had just had. All he did was try help you, offer you his gentle touch to perfect your writing, but it seems it was too much, too soon. Maybe you thought it forward of him, or maybe you were just disgusted by him... The creepy cardinal, like everyone else thought. He sat for a while wondering to himself, his thoughts entering a state of self-loathing before he shook his head and headed back towards his office as the afternoon lingered on.

He was hoping that finding you in the library meant an afternoon in the sunshine, getting to know you a little better, that you might see past the fact that he was the cardinal and see l that under his cassock he was just… Copia, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Slumping into his chair, all he could think about was the face you pulled when you noticed his hand on yours, was he really that disgusting?

He picked up some of the letters laying on his desk and started to flick through them, not paying any attention to what was in his hands, his thoughts were firmly set on wondering what to do. He was already the shy and easily embarrassed type… this might just finish him off. He thought of how he could just sit and hide, maybe drop out as the Latin professor for the semester, maybe tell the clergy a lie about how he is too overwhelmed with work... Just so he didn’t have to see that face again on his perfect sorella. His thoughts suddenly interrupted by a knock at his door, his brother older brother Secondo walking in without a word. He stood at the front of the cardinal’s desk; his eyebrow raised, stern as always… Had he heard already?? Did news really travel that fast? Copias face turning white as if he had just seen a ghost, Secondo was sure to be the one here to tell him off for bothering sisters that didn’t want his attention.

“What is it fratello?” Secondo said to Copia as he stood in front of him, Copias face clearly looking worried by the fact his brother had just entered his office.

“Nothing Papa, Nothing...” He quietly answered him, laying the letters in his hands back down the desk.

“Well, it sure doesn’t look like nothing… you’ve got a face on you, what is it, fratello? Sister problems?”

And just like that Secondo was onto him, it seemed like his older brother knew him well enough to guess what the issue was before he had even mentioned it. In fact, Secondo was probably the only one of his brothers that could probably guess the issue before he had even admitted it to himself.

“Si… I guess it is” Copia replied placing his hat on his desk and running his hands through his hair as he sat back in his seat.

“Is it that sister from your Latin class? I see how you look at her…”

Copia’s eyebrow raised as he looked at his brother, both almost mirroring each other.

“What’s been said Secondo? Is the ministry laughing at me already? All because the sister ran away from me? All I did was touch her hand” Copia let his mind and mouth run away with him, letting out his fears in front of his brother without a second thought.

“Fratello, Nothings been said… Don’t worry... I just came over to see if you were going to be at our weekly uno game tonight. Ive got the kitchen prepping us something nice”. Secondo offered his brother a small piece of comfort before he started to push “but now you have to tell your brother, what happened? Maybe I can help you”.

Copia didn’t need to be asked twice, his twirling self-doubt spat out the issue before his mind had even caught up with itself. “Si, Well I went to the library and the sister from my Latin class was studying. I offered her some comfort, a walk in the gardens and some extra study time in the sunshine. She seemed frustrated.. Upset. I thought it might help. And well, we were writing something out and I touched her hand to help neaten up her handwriting a little, and well…. She bolted. She got up and ran away from me. Am I really that bad Secondo?” He threw up his hands in frustration.

“My fratello…. I think your mind is running away with you… You need to take a deep breath and think about this.. This sister, you should talk to her… explain to her properly, si?” Secondo answered with concern, his brother not leaving him a moment to think before answering.

“I don’t think that would work… I tried; she ran”. Copia expelled, ready to admit defeat and let the pits of hell swallow him whole.

“Well, why don’t you write to her? A Latin love letter? I could get my ghouls to deliver it for you” Secondo asked hoping that this would be the answer to his brothers' problems. And in that moment the cardinals domineer changed, it was almost as if secondo had given him the meaning of life, his frown turned into a smile.

“Ahh. Brother, you always know how to fix a problem.” Copia smiled.

“Well, I wouldn’t be Papa, if I couldn’t fix problems with my flock now would I? I’ll see you at uno later then. Si? I need my wing man to make sure Terzo isn’t cheating again” Secondo smiled.

“Ahhh, si.. I’ll see you later”. Copia answered his brother, returning his smile.

Secondo smiled and left the cardinal's office, leaving copia to slump back into his chair and slip back into his mind. His thoughts quickly slipped to the letter that Secondo suggested. He opened his desk draw and pulled out a piece of ministry headed letter paper and put it down in front of him.

Dear Sister, I hope my words find you well. I sit in my office writing this, thinking about our moment under the willow tree. I wanted to express my sincere apologies, if I upset you. My aim was to only help you, and maybe get you to see how much I care for you or how I would like too. Teaching you as a student has been a privilege, and although my professionalism means a lot to me... You must believe me when I say that you are the most beautiful and talented of sisters, and I truly hope I didn’t overstep my mark and that you could possibly see me as more then just your professor. Yours truly, Copia

Putting his pen down, he read the letter back to himself over and over... making sure that it was just perfect for his beautiful sorella. He smiled trying not to let the anxiety that sat in the back of his mind set back in, but Secondo was right, he needed to do something. At least this way, he could explain to you and also possibly get a definitive answer on if you would accept his advances. If you didn’t, he could just lick his wounds and move on... and maybe hide for the rest of the semester.

He sat for a while, thinking about what he would do if you actually said yes, the idea of you running to him and kissing him springing into his mind. Him taking you by the waist and lifting you up high as your lips met. All his life he had longed for romance just like in the movies; he was sure you would want that too. That you also would want the type of love you see in black and white films, the type of romance that warms your heart and leaves you feeling whole. All his life he has never felt good enough for anyone, or anything. Although he has put his life into his work, the feeling of being unfulfilled was always there for him. He hoped to satanas that this would change... that the one thing he wanted more then anything would come true. A heart to call a home.

Noticing the time, he put the letter into an envelope and stamped it with an official seal of the church. Writing your initials on the front. He put the paper to his lips and kissed it softly before pushing it into his pocket. The evening was creeping in, the light low and dark around the ministry, he only agreed to meet his brothers tonight to please Secondo, Copia was tired, and his day had been long, and his feelings had gotten away from him, but he didn’t want to upset his brother. He stopped outside the room that the brothers always met in, it was tucked away behind the papal suites, none of the siblings, ministry or ghouls ever made their way down here. Not without an invite anyway. Copia opened the door and stepped inside. The room itself was adorned in Secondo’s colours, green and black. The crushed velvet hanging from the walls giving it cozy yet regal feeling. The brothers all sat around a dark oak stained table, arguing as always. Secondo stood up and headed towards Copia the moment he walked in.

“Brother, you made it. Did you bring the letter I suggested? Would you like my ghouls to deliver it for you? It would be no problem…” Secondo said in hushed tones, not wanting primo and Terzo to hear their conversation.

“Ahh, yes... if they don’t mind. I wouldn’t want them going out of their way while on duty…”

“It’s fine, we will be safe here… I’m sure they would be glad to get out of this stuffy room for a while” Secondo smiled.

Copia pulled the letter out of his pocket and handed it to Secondo’s right-hand ghoul, who just offered a nod and a smile to him before leaving the brothers alone.

“What’s going on over there?” His brother Terzo could be heard asking from behind Copia.

“Oh, shush you. I’m sure it none of our business…” Primo said to Terzo.

Terzo sat back in his seat, his lip puffed out, he hated being told off by his much older brother, but as he respected him, he didn’t answer him back and simply accepted his scolding.

________________________________

You had spent your evening in a spiral of self hate, you couldn’t believe that the moment that the cardinal touched you... you lost your cool and bolted. You were pretty sure that you could never show your face again in his Latin class. The Cardinal probably thinks you have lost the plot, the moment he offered to help you, to offer you comfort…. You threw it back in his face. If he only knew that you bolted not because of him, but because of your feelings for him. You were far to embarrassed, far too uncertain to stick around. You were like a dear in headlights the moment you felt his soft leather gloves on your skin, your head took over. You had wanted nothing more than to feel the leather of his gloves on your skin, but the moment it happened, it all just felt too much. Maybe your little crush on the Cardinal wasn’t such a little crush after all but you were sure after this that there was no hope for you both. You had left him alone, and most likely just as embarrassed as yourself. He would most likely never talk to you again after this.

You pulled the covers over your head and wrapped yourself up a few times to cocoon yourself in your self pity. You didn’t plan on moving for the rest of the night, hell... maybe even the rest of the week. This was just too much, all you wanted to do was explain yourself, but you didn’t think you would be able to overcome the embarrassment of what you did to him. You lay on your bed, just hoping that the 9th dimension of hell would open up beneath you and swallow you whole as you drifted off into a slumber.

Your eyes sprang open and drifted towards your clock, noticing that you had fallen asleep and that it was now the small hours of the morning. Your room was dark, the only light being from the moon shining in from your small window. Your room was small but comforting, peaceful. You had been so thankful when you had joined the church that you had been offered a room to yourself. It gave you chance to not only adjust to your new life but also gave you the space you needed from human interaction at the end of the day. You loved your little dorm, it was your safe haven from the outside world.

You pulled yourself out of bed to grab yourself a glass a of water, heading to the small sink in your room to fill your glass. Turning the tap, you fill it to the brim and down the ice cold water without a second thought. It wasn’t until your eyes drifted towards the door that you noticed something was sitting on the mat. You didn’t see that when you walked through the door earlier, or maybe in your panic you missed it. You filled your glass again, turning off the tap and walking to retrieve the envelope on the mat. Your heart sank the moment you saw the writing on the front. It was his handwriting. Was this him writing to tell you that he wanted you to leave his classes? That your behaviour was too much for him? It wouldn’t be the first time you had been rejected this way.

You sat down on the bed, your fingers resting on the wax seal as you try to gather the mental fortitude to open it. As you muster the will power, gently lifting up the official seal. It sure did seem official, you were pretty sure this was about to be the end of your Latin classes and the end of you being able to show your face in public again.

As the seal on the letter snapped, you pulled out the paper inside. It didn’t go unnoticed that he had used officially headed paper, this was going to hurt and you were sure you where about to pay for your public shaming earlier. The first thing you noticed was that the cardinal had written in Latin, your eyes rolled slightly, he wasn’t just going to scold you, but he was going to do it Latin too.

You grabbed your textbook and started to read the letter. Deciphering the words slowly.

I sit in my office writing this, thinking about our moment under the willow tree.

“Oh, fuck… here we go” you thought to yourself, he really was about to scold you. You were sure of it.

Teaching you as a student has been a privilege, and although my professionalism means a lot to me...

You smiled, even though he was angry at you… he still wanted to make sure that you felt like he appreciated you.

You must believe me when I say that you are the most beautiful and talented of sisters, and I truly hope I didn’t overstep my mark and that you could possibly see me as more then just your professor.

“Wait… what? He? … He likes me?” Your mind spun as you read the last few words of his letter. “You could see me as more than just your professor?!” You repeated to yourself. Your tears starting to fall, after all this, after what you had put him through, he thought he was the issue? He thought that you rejected him because you didn’t like him, that his advances were unwanted. How wrong you both were.

You looked at the door and that was it, your feet were moving faster than your brain could think, whisking you through the dark ministry faster than lightning. You stopped outside his door, the door that had his full title engraved on. You moved your hand across it, tracing his name. Your eyes still red and puffy from your tears and the night reminding you that you had just left your room in nothing but your thin nightgown and nothing on your feet.

You knocked quietly and waited, not hearing a sound from inside... you knocked again… nothing. The confidence that overcame you before ebbing away by the moment... you started to think maybe you shouldn’t have left your room. That you had acted too hastily. Your thoughts began to take over, just as they did before.

“Sorella?” you heard from behind you.

You spun on your feet, your eyes meeting and without another word you threw yourself into his arms. Burying your face into his chest and holding on for dear life.

“Sorella, are you ok?” The Cardinal ran his hand over your hair, slightly concerned by you showing up at his door in tears, slightly worried he had done something else wrong.

You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face, and smash your lips into his without a word. The cardinals body stiffened as your lips met, but as you both relaxed into the kiss you had offered him, his arms wrapped around you, and his body loosened as he pulled you in closer to him and tilting back your head to deepen his kiss, kissing in a moment of passionate haze... You slid your tongue into his mouth as he held you, his tongue matching yours as they both dance together. The cardinal pushing you against his door, holding you in place... his hands moving up your bare thighs as your kiss reaches its end. You both break apart, gasping for air but wanting nothing more than for that kiss to never end. You let your gaze meet as your breath begins to steady. The cardinal keeping you tight against his body and the door, offering you his body for comfort as you lean into him and rest your head on his chest.

“Sorella, arms. Hold tight” Copia asked as he picked you up, your arms moving to behind his neck and your legs wrapping around his torso as he held you close, unlocking his dorm door. Fumbling with the key for a lot longer than he would have liked, he carried you over to his bed, laying you down softly, gently... he walked to the other side of the room, his nightly ritual taking over. You watched as he undressed from his cassock, his body much trimmer and more toned than you would have expected, leaving himself in a ripped band tshirt and a pair of boxers. You smile at him, watching him as he turns back to the bed and meets your gaze. “Beautiful” he mutters.

#the band ghost #ghost #ghost fandom #ghost bc #ghost fanfiction #cardinal copia #papa copia #papa emeritus 4 #fanfic #ghost band #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #ghost sweden #ghost the band #ghost fan fiction

[haveyoubeentothiscity]

I was a bit concerned by the "haven't heard of these places" percentage about rather popular European cities (I'm thinking about Bilbao, Como, Leipzig and Namur in peculiar) before I realized that there are USAmerican cities people seem to know (I know most but there are maybe three I don't think I've ever heard of) that I don't remember having heard about so my guess is most voters are USAmericans and that makes sense they're better at remembering places close to them, the way I know much more about European geography than theirs

Also not impressed by the percentage when it's about Latin American cities or African ones. La Paz is a capital city. Lagos and Kinshasa are ones of the most (I think the most but that'd need double checking) populated African cities.

Look, this isn't a personal criticism. I've no doubt the educative system failed many and that it's important for USAmericans to learn a lot about their country, probably much more stuff than European countries require their students to know about other European states. I'd get why it'd take center stage in geography class.

Personally, I hated my geography classes and had never been brilliant at it but it's important to know that kind of stuff and you can still inform yourself about it now that you're no longer in class

I think you’re right about this being partly about the geography of your own continent being more familiar. The demographics poll I posted last week suggests a little less than half of voters are from North America (probably mostly the US, although Canada does well in the submissions too).

While I’m a little hesitant to use not recognizing a city’s name as a metric for ignorance, the US does have a serious problem with neglecting Latin America, Asia, and Africa in education. A focus on US history makes sense, but after a leaving Ancient Egypt, the “world” history classes I took focused almost entirely on Europe. It is a failure and it leads to lack of familiarity and some serious misconceptions about these places.

That being said, I tried to pick language for the “haven’t heard of this city before” option that is neutral. If you haven’t heard of some of these cities before, well, now you have! I’ve definitely learned many new names through doing this, and while I don’t read up on every city I post, it’s been a delight to learn more about a few.

#not a poll #asked and answered

[eerna]

As far as the first 2 eps of pjo, I agree the pacing felt off, and I felt like the part with ms dodds had weird lines and felt super rushed, but I’m not sure how they could have condensed all the exposition and such in like 1-2 episodes, or at least well?

Also is it weird that it bugs me that sally and grover taught percy all the greek stories? Like part of it is that he’s supposed to be confused and also the more he knows the worse it is for him before camp right? (Though bringing in mythomagic was cute)

I mean, there is a ton of TV shows where the pilots rock and manage to set up the world wonderfully, so I firmly believe there was a way to cover the first few chapters over 80 minutes of runtime... The problem is that this show relies on speaking out loud everything we need to know, and we lose a ton of time on that. For example, I would have cut out the entire intro with Percy telling us about how weird he is, because you don't learn any information you won't learn over the field trip sequence. Percy is weird and disliked, okay that is shown through Nancy Bobofit and the rest of the students mocking him. Percy spaces out and isn't always sure what's real and what's not, okay that is shown through him falling out of time to think about his mom. Percy's only friend is Grover, okay that is shown through Grover exchanging food with him and reassuring him. And voila, now you have an extra 3-ish minutes to invest in proper reaction shots for the Fury reveal!

It's not weird, I've seen a lot of people saying that! I personally don't mind, since "the less you know the safer you are" always felt like an excuse to keep the audience in the dark and do grand mythology reveals. I'm okay with Chiron and Mr. D not telling Percy about the big stuff because they wanna make him more manageable as opposed to there being a real, tangible danger in him knowing what a Minotaur is or whatever. AND in the books it didn't even make sense because Chiron himself taught Percy mythology stuff at the Yancy Latin course so

#lillytalons #eernask #eernask talk pjoverse #pjo spoilers

[kmgkmg]

EVERYTHING - LEE HEESEUNG

word count: 2.8k…

pairing: heeseung x gn!reader

synopsis: you are a freshly moved in tenant to a cheaply priced apartment, but is it too good to be true?

genre/s: fluff, non-idol!au, strangers-to-lovers, enemies-to-lovers more of a miscommunication trope, college student!reader, neighbor!heeseung

warnings: none!

rating: pg

a/n: for @dearhee!! hi, i was matched with you for the @kflixnet's exchange event! i'm a bit shy so i didn't message you, but i've enjoyed seeing your posts on my dash ^^ i hope you enjoy this short oneshot piece! the title is based off of everything by kehlani. i had a hard time choosing between her song and butterfly dream by khalil fong, also i did kinda get carried away and made you a fic playlist! and an older outdated playlist i made for heeseung a while back if you'd like to listen to it! sorry this author's note is so long omg.

Brown moving boxes cluttered your new living room. Sure, it looked a bit barren and depressing from the boxes and bubble-wrapped items lying around, but those would be dealt with right after you finished your coursework. Sitting down at the kitchen table you and Jungwon assembled just hours ago, your mouse hovered over the pause button of your laptop.  

You were attempting to finish the recorded lecture your professor posted yesterday. Latin American Politics seemed like a fascinating topics course to take, and to top it off, the professor had stellar reviews from classmates. Who would’ve known that you were getting yourself into the most intensive courses you’ve taken to date? The readings were interesting and you never had a problem completing them, but what drove you insane was the exams. Your professor would always include questions that would leave a lot up for interpretation, yet he would grade it seemingly randomly based on his mood.  The other half of the questions would require you to know a decent amount of outside information since he would ask questions that were never discussed in class or case studies, but would be relating to relevant precedents.

Something that was quickly driving you insane was your next door neighbor. You hadn’t had the chance to introduce yourself yet, but for almost the entire time you tried to watch the lecture, music could be heard through your shared wall. You thought the noise would subside if you waited long enough, but your patience finally met its limit when they turned up their music enough for you to feel the bass. 

This isn't how you imagined introducing yourself to your neighbors. You weren’t hoping to be best friends with them or anything, but you definitely didn’t think you’d be storming over to their doorstep at 11pm to complain. Still, it’s a weekday. How could they not have the common sense to be courteous of those who needed to wake up early in the morning?

Opening your door, you walked over and knocked three times on the door. A man with grayish blonde hair opened the door with a quizzical smile flashed towards you.

And maybe, no, definitely, his looks would’ve been more noticed by you on any other day. But you had an oral exam to finish polishing to present in front of your professor and classmates. 

“Can you lower your music please? I’m trying to study and it’s distracting,” You request, without paying much attention to your neighbor’s confusion gradually showing on his face. 

“I wasn’t playing any music though?” He innocently replies.

“For the past forty minutes I’ve listened to music from your side of the wall, don’t act innocent,” You groan. 

He smirked at you, “Sure, I can ‘turn it down’,” emphasizing the last part by using air quotes with his hands. 

“What do you mean with the air quotations?” You frown, imitating the air quotes he made moments ago. 

“Don’t you think you owe me a favor for turning down my music? I mean it is my apartment, I should be able to act how I want. Not my fault that the building’s walls are thin,” He shrugs. 

Of course, your neighbor is entitled. Just great. 

“You won’t turn it down? Okay, there’s an easy solution. What was the landlord’s number again? I think filing a noise complaint would make my problem solved real quick,” You answered, unlocking your phone screen and showing the dial pad screen to him.

His smirk fades, “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing my music and singing,” taking your phone and typing a number onto it, “here’s my number.” He extended his hand to you with your phone placed on his palm. 

You snatched your phone back, narrowing your eyes at him. “Why give me your number? So you can bother me through texts and phone calls instead?” You scoff, already heading back to your apartment next door. 

“You can message me instead of our landlord when I make noise again,” He waves, before slamming his door behind you. 

Asshole.

One thing you absolutely hated was hot weather. Without the A/C on in the middle of today, a day that was record-breakingly hot, you felt certain you would melt any minute now. Your landlord sent out an email to all of the tenants in the morning explaining that the A/C broke and would probably be repaired by tonight. You didn’t need her email to wake you up though. You were already awake, sweating profusely. The comforter had long been thrown to the floor. You stumbled sleepily to your thermostat which read as 100°F/38°C. Outside it was a bit cooler, but being outside only exposed you to the blazing sun. It was truly choosing the lesser of two evils. 

What made the day even worse is that you ran into your annoying neighbor, whose name you learned is Heeseung, as you went outside to make a quick run to buy some cold snacks. It did make it slightly better when he was covered in as much, if not more sweat than you. You couldn’t revel in his misfortune for too long though. He miraculously managed to trip over his doormat, falling onto you. Both of you scowled at each other while childishly wiping each other’s germs off yourselves. 

He hadn’t played his music anymore since the day you confronted him, but he did sing nearly everyday. If you weren’t studying, you couldn’t help admiring how talented he was. His vocals sounded like they came straight from a CD. But your appreciation for his talent never lasted long, since he always had an intuitive sense to bother you. 

Y/N, I sound good, don’t I?

How would you feel if I serenaded you sometime?

Don’t you think a guy who can sing is sooooooo hot?

Have any song requests Y/N?

His texts immediately removed any hint of charisma his music might’ve given him. Heeseung knew that his texts drove you insane, and if you were just an ounce less nice than you were, he would’ve been blocked a long time ago. Still, he had texted you about a week ago informing you he’d be redoing the foam sound panels he installed a couple years back in order to hopefully be more soundproof for your sake. While you felt relieved that you would finally have some peace and quiet after weeks of living with his incessant noise, it was bittersweet. You had grown used to his singing, occasionally singing along to the songs you knew. Although, it didn’t change the fact that he was still arrogant as ever whenever he interacted with you. 

Snapping out of your thoughts about Heeseung, the elevator doors opened on your floor. You looked down into the plastic bag of goods you got from the convenience store and sighed disappointedly at the distorted shape of the ice cream you bought. 

“Sorry if the phone was cut out, I was in the elevator. But Jake, I’m going to die in this heat!” You whined through the phone, searching your pockets with your free hand for your keys. 

“Why don’t you just come over to my place then?” He offers generously.

“That would give me the perfect excuse to see Layla…” You trail off, tempted by your friend’s invitation. 

“See, Y/N just come over and we can eat some ice cream to cool down,” Jake persuades you further. 

“You know, I actually got ice cream and other stuff and I’m pretty sure it melted on impact the moment I stepped into this damn complex,” You reveal, lightening up at the sound of Jake’s laughter. 

You finally found your keys and unlocked your door, noticing the fan by your door. There was a Post-It note attached to it: You seemed to need it more than me - Seung. He was definitely sweating more than you earlier, so why would he give his fan to you?

“Jake, my annoying neighbor just left me a really nice fan to use?” You tell him, still glancing over the note. All of a sudden? For no reason? Your suspicions grew as they usually did, sure that he must have an ulterior motive. Nevertheless, you carried the fan and your melted snacks into your apartment. 

“You mean the neighbor with the angelic singing voice?” Jake asks to confirm he was thinking about the same neighbor. 

You open your fridge, placing each item in their designated spot, “You heard him one time, Jake.”

“One time was enough, Y/N. Dude’s got the voice of an angel for real,” Jake stands his ground. 

Rolling your eyes, you take out the semi-frozen pineapple juice you put in the freezer hours ago. The original plan was to drink it for yourself, but it couldn’t stop bothering you that Heeseung had seemingly been nice for no reason. The fan he gave you blew cold air and if you wanted it to be even colder you could add cold water or ice to a compartment. It was expensive, you could tell from the look of it alone. Also, you did happen to browse for fans while you were waiting in line at the convenience store. Was the fan in front of you the one you considered buying? That’s not important right now…

“Y/N?” Jake’s voice snaps you away from your thoughts. 

“Sorry, give me a sec,” You grabbed the plastic bag on the counter and added the frozen pineapple juice and gummies to it. It’s not equivalent to his fan, but at least it’s something. 

You reopened your door, preparing to hang the bag on his door handle and go back to your conversation. What you didn’t expect was Heeseung to be walking in the hallway, humming a song while twirling his keys with one hand and carrying takeout in the other. He caught you in the middle of what was supposed to be a discrete delivery, raising his eyebrow in amusement. 

“And what do I owe the pleasure, Y/N L/N?” He moseyed over to you, flashing one of his infamous smiles at you. 

“I just left some things in the bag since you gave me that fan. I appreciate it, but um, if you don’t want the snacks since you just got food, I can grab it later,” You mumbled, trying to scurry back into your apartment since Jake was definitely going to tease you about any interaction you had with Heeseung. 

“Wait, is that the angelic neighbor, Y/N?” Jake’s voice practically booms from your phone. You must’ve accidentally pressed the speaker button. Heeseung’s smile only grows wider as he looks at your phone, with you being completely mortified and hanging up on your best friend. 

“Angelic neighbor, huh?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head, Heeseung. That’s just my friend’s nickname for you,” You attempt to crush anything he was imagining, matching his cheeky energy. 

“Aw, so you talk about me that much? I’m flattered, really,” He places a hand on his heart, closing his eyes in a feigned earnest expression. 

“He heard you singing one time, Heeseung. Then, I mean I might’ve told him you were always singing with that flawless voice of yours, but that was it really,” You rambled, not thinking much about the words that were coming out of your mouth. 

“Flawless voice…” He repeats, turning shy at the surprise compliment you gave. 

You were completely unaware of what you said, still trying to make your way back to your apartment. 

“Anyways, if you don’t have anything else to say I’m going to head back into my place…” You point with your thumb to your door, confused as to why he suddenly turned so quiet. 

“Thank you.” 

Now it was your turn to be surprised, “For what?”

“I’ve been going to all these auditions but keep getting rejected. Each place I go nitpicks my technique, but you called my voice flawless. I guess I really needed to hear that right now,” Heeseung explains, now fidgeting with his keys. 

The puzzle pieces started falling into place, “So that’s why you’re always singing?”

He nodded in response, “The first day you came over to my door, I was practicing for a callback the following morning. I knew that we were expecting a new tenant and sure, I heard you moving things in, but moving in took me like three days. The last time someone new moved in was me, which was two years ago. So, I just assumed that you would still be moving in. It didn’t occur to me that you could’ve moved all your stuff in one day. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was making that much noise that night, I didn’t know you were all moved in yet.”

His sincere apology surprised you for the second time, “I’m sorry, too. I’m a law school student and I was prepping for an exam that determined a huge part of my grade. I can get a bit sensitive to sounds when I’m studying for exams,” You apologized back. 

Heeseung’s fingers stopped fidgeting with his keys as his expression softened, “Thank you for the snacks, I’ll enjoy them, Y/N.”

The warmth in his voice as he said your name made you flustered, used to him only saying your name in a teasing tone, “Y-Yeah, no problem. Thanks for the fan, I’ll use it well.”

“Oh, before I forget, I was going to drop off one of these sandwiches by the fan if you weren’t home yet,” He reaches into his takeout bag and hands you a sandwich. 

Today must be the day he decided to endlessly surprise you since he handed you your regular order from the local deli, “How’d you know my order…?”

“About a week ago, you made an UberEats and the delivery person knocked on my door first,” He nonchalantly explained. 

“Ah, I see. But why are you being so nice to me? I mean it’s a complete 180 from this morning,” You question him, still suspicious of his kindness. 

“I just woke up when I tripped into you earlier. Also, I absolutely hate hot weather so I would’ve made that face if I bumped into anyone,” Heeseung answers, “I hope that we can get along from now on.”

You nod in agreement and thank him for the fan and sandwich once again before parting. 

Finally back in your apartment, you FaceTimed Jake only to be met with the faces of both him and Jungwon. 

“Tell us everything!” 

Months had passed since Heeseung and you finally cleared up your misunderstandings. Your once sour relationship with him had turned into a strong friendship, spending most of each other’s free time with each other. 

His love as a friend was anything but conventional. He knew all of your details, from the first time you officially hung out and watched the newest John Wick movie to the time when you went to a dog cafe together, he was always attentive to you and your interests. You were equally attentive to him, recommending songs that would suit his voice, or sending videos about fishing since it was his hobby. Jake had grown closer to Heeseung as well, reporting back to Jungwon each time you and Heeseung would gush about each other. 

It was obvious to everyone that you loved each other. Well, obvious to everyone but the two of you. That was, until one fateful summer night spent on the apartment’s rooftop with each other. You were watching a fireworks show in the distance, enamored with the various colors filling the dark night sky. 

“Isn’t it stunning, Seung?” You exclaimed happily, not breaking your attention from the fireworks in front of you. 

He wasn’t looking at the fireworks though. His eyes were fixed on you beside him, taking in everything you are, “Yeah, absolutely stunning.”

You turned towards him, only to be met with his unwavering gaze, “Heeseung?”

He softly led you to the table and chairs on the rooftop, hinting that he wanted to sit down next to you. You followed him, picking up when he wanted to say something.

After a deep breath in Heeseung began, “Y/N, I love the way you teach me about things I never would have thought to learn about. I love the way you listen to my concerns and nonsensical excited rants about my favorite shows or album releases. I love your extrovertedness and willingness to help those around you. I love your laugh. I love you.”

“Heeseung, I love you too,” You reply, unable to properly formulate all the reasons why you loved him. If you started listing the reasons why you loved him, you feared you would never stop. 

But your confession back was enough for him to shine brighter than any of the fireworks you watched before, “Really?”

You smile at him, causing him to envelop you in a hug. 

Who would’ve thought that your noisy neighbor all those months ago would end up being the person you loved?

#kflixnet #kfn: the exchange event #kpopccc #k-vanity #klabels #heeseung fic #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen #enha #heeseung oneshot #enhypen oneshot #heeseung fluff #kmgkmgoriginal #for the fic/ur playlist i did 21 songs since u and him are 21 aha.. get it... okie in retrospect it's corny 🪿 #also i follow from my main so if it looks like i'm not following u..i am!! just through a diff url lol #anyways anyways i hope this is at least somewhat enjoyable for u to read!! i haven't been into enha since like 2021 so def v rusty #also for the course name in this fic i definitely looked at my college's course offerings #jake/jungwon being little chismosos lol #okie i will stop talking in the tags!! um if u use apple music instead i can send u the links for the playlists on that platform instead!