#women. who are all in this UNI ENGLISH COURSE WITH YOU.

[legendaryjarcollection]

Group project partners love to make the shared document as confusing as possible

#Peter I get that you have autism but it fucking hate that chart you made us put everything in #it’s impossible to read it makes no sense and a nightmare to write in #there. god. he is nice but he is not doing himself any favours. why would you fully seriously explain what a euphemism is to three grown #women. who are all in this UNI ENGLISH COURSE WITH YOU. #also the organising of that document has me doing twice the work I really need to bc it’s so unclear what exactly I’m supposed to do. #my name is on two completely different things and I don’t wanna be annoying and ask a third time so I’m just doing both

[yuyu1024]

Rebound

Pairings: s.coups/seungcheol × y/n

Genre/tags: friends/fwb

Warning: 🔞smut, a little fluff, cursing, semi public, dry humping, handjob, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected sex/drunk sex, mention of alcohol

(Always be safe and make sure to have consent... always...)

~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.5k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: this might be all over the place since i wrote it while im trying to sleep🫠 Hope you all have a great week ahead....

Brb. 👩🏻‍💻

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You are heart broken right now. Your boyfriend or should we say ex just broke up with you recently. Through text and you haven't gotten the chance to get a grip of it yet. The breakup is still fresh and the way he just dumped you is still painful. He's heartless for doing such thing. No one should ever experience such thing!

"I hate men." You blurt out as you lay down on the mat that you and your friend put down the floor so you guys could lay down whilst star gazing. Of course with alcohol and snacks involve.

"All of a sudden?" Seungcheol heard you as he was just about to come out of his house. "I invited you here at my place... to relax... to entertain you.. for you to stop crying over your ex... then... now you hate men? Even me?" He sound offended

You laugh at his reaction. "Sorry... I can't help it." You say, "Men invades women's lives... flirt with us, make us fall in lovd... then when they feel like they need to go to the next target they'll just throw us like we are nothing..."

"You are not wrong with that... but hey not all men are like that." He sits down next to you, holding a beer on his hand. "Look at me..." he adds

You get up and sit straight next to him, "Yeah... you're a nice person..." you lean your head on his shoulder. "Too nice... even... that's why---"

"Hey. Don't mention the past." He hushes you. "We are talking about your heart break here... not mine that's been years ago."

You giggle at his reaction. "Fine..." you then grab his beer and drink from it. "But just one question.."

"Hmm?"

"Why haven't you dated again after....you know who...?"

"Well... I don't know... I guess... I just haven't found the girl for me yet..."

"Why? Are your standards that high?"

He takes back the beer from your hand. "I'm not like that... I go with my feelings... not like you who goes nuts when you see men with strong arms and built."

"Well," you steal his beer again and drink from it. "I find those traits sexy...how can I resist?"

"Yeah right." He takes his beer again. "Will you stop drinking mine? Just grab one from the cooler... I bought enough for the two of us..."

"But I like yours..." you take it again from him after he just took a sip. "We can always share... we are friends..." You drink the last chug. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"It doesn't. I just thought you'd be the type of person that would be concious about drinking at the same cup or whatever..."

You wipe your mouth with your hand as you put the empty can on the side. "What do you mean?"

"You know... I hear girls at Uni talk about indirect kisses so..."

"Ahh... I see..." you giggle. "How funny... they get so excited by those..."

"You don't?"

"Of course not! It's not like it is a kiss." You roll your eyes. "Making out for sure...is much more exciting..."

"Right." Seungcheol gets up to take another can of beer from the cooler. "Do you want one or you still want to share with me?" He asks as he opens the cooler.

"Grab two... but still we'll share." You say smiling

He shakes head and grab two different kinds. "You are really something..."

***

After a few more drinks and chitchat about your exes, you two finally decided to lay down and watch the stars above you.

With minimal light around you and Seungcheol turning off the lights in the house, just leaving the kitchen lights on where you two will enter back later, the sky is more brighter and clearer in your view.

"Thanks for inviting me here at your family's vacation house..."

"No problem... besides, mom suggested me to bring you here... she said you need this."

"Your mom is so sweet."

"She is... and its a plus because she likes you..."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she always wanted a daughter and I guess....you fit what she dreamed off having..."

"Aww... but...it is a bit sad..."

"Sad? Why?"

You turn over to your side, facing Seungcheol. "Coz I'm not the typical good daughter... and I don't want to disappoint her..."

"Typical good daughter?" He repeats, stunned by your word choice. "You are a good person..."

"Am I?" You laugh and lay down at your back again.

"Yeah... just a little freaky..."

"Freaky?!" You repeat, whipping your head to him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Don't act like you are not..." he smirks, "I've seen you do PDA with your ex."

"And...?" You toss to your side again but this time closer to Seungcheol. "Are you saying I'm freaky because I like to cuddle and touch my man?" You raise your brow at him.

"Don't get insulted. I didn't meant it as a bad way...." he then looks back at you, smiling. "I like freaky to you know... we all have our... kinks..."

"Really? Define... what's freaky for you? What are your kinks?"

"Okay... don't look at me like that..." he laughs, "I don't mean THAT kink... I don't do fifty shades of grey freaky you know..."

"Then... what are the things you like?"

"You really want to know?"

"Of course... coz my freaky may be different from your freaky..." you are grinning

"Hmmm..." he hums, thinking if he should tell you. "Isn't it a bit dangerous to be on a topic like this...?" He asks. Then his eyes starts scanning you from your face to your chest area which is very exposed and in his face right now.

You smirk as you eye him glancing at your cleavage. "Cheolie... are you getting seduced by my boobs right now?" You tease

"How can I not?" He looks away but the corner of his lips is curved into a smile. "You're wearing a verly low V neck shirt right now..."

You giggle at his remarks and then lean in to give your friend a kiss on the cheek which surprised him.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Nothing... because you are so cute." You say before going back to your original position.

"Me? Cute?" He pouts, "Y/N I just talked about looking at your boobs and you find it cute?"

"I do!" You answer

"You're weird."

"Oh yeah... J am freaky..." you say, laughing.

"You are..." he adds

The two of you suddenly became quiet. The only thing you could hear now is the crackling of the woods in the bon fire and the sound of the breeze and the trees dancing.

"It's getting a bit chilly now..." Seungcheol breaks the silence. "Should we go inside now?"

"No... not yet..." you answer. "I need to do something..."

"Do what--"

Before he could even finish, you already got up and crawled on top of him

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

You move your pelvis, lower than where you are. You are trying to find the perfect spot on top of him.

"Ughh..." he breathes out as you placed your clothed core right on top of his erection. "Y/N...."

"Cheolie... Do you want to make out with me?"

"What??"

You slide your hands from his abdomen to his chest. "We're friends right...?"

"Y/N...." he grabs both your wrists. "I don't think this is a good idea..."

"Please...?" You move your hips, slightly rubbing your core to his bulge and causing him to hiss a curse under his breathe. "You can touch me if you want... I don't mind..."

"You are drunk..."

"No, I'm not..." you frown. "If I'm drunk....I won't be asking for your consent..."

"This is wrong... what you want is not right..."

"I know."

He gets up whilst you are still on hip. "And you still want to?"

You nod.

"Are you trying to use me? As rebound sex?" He chuckles

"I was not suggesting sex yet... but..." you put your arms around his neck and then move your body closer to his, "if you are okay with having sex... I'm game..." you say the few words words in a very seducing manner.

"Why me?"

"Why not?"

He laughs at how serious you are. "You are crazy, Y/N..."

"I know..." you once again rub your clothed core on his erection. Basically dry humping him. "Please...?" Your voice sounded more breathy.

"Damn it." He mumbles as the friction between you two makes him more hard.

"Here." You grab his hand and place it over your boob. "You like my boobs right...?" Then you guide his hand by rubbing his palm over and then squeezing your boob with his hand. "Feel it..." you whisper while letting his thumb feel your hardened nipple through your shirt.

"Fuck, Y/N... you are insane..." he throws his head back, holding on to not crack a smile. He is enjoying your needy side.

"C'mon Cheolie... you are making me wait for too long... do you want to or not?" While you on the other hand is being impatient.

"If I say yes," he says "What happens after we fuck?"

"We can decide after..."

"What if... I want to do it again..."

"Then let's do it again."

He's brows scrunches, "you are okay to with that?"

"Yes..."

"Even though... We are not dating?"

"Seungcheol..." you lean in a kiss him on the cheek again. "Like what we talked about... I am a little freaky... and besides you're my friend..."

"So....we're going to be.... fuck buddies?"

"If you want to..."

"No strings attached? Just... sex?"

"Yes... if I'm horny... I'll call you... and if you are horny and need me... then, call me and I'm willing to fuck you or suck you... anywhere... anytime..."

Shaking his head laughing, "Fucking hell Y/N... you are naughty..."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah... I know... so now what? Do you want to fuck with me or not? Give me an answer now coz if your not going to... I'll just go to bed..."

"You are very impatient, you know that?" He says smirking whilst his brows is furrowed. He looks amused. "I just want to make sure..." then he places his hand on your waist, sliding them under the hem of your shirt. "You are sure with this... since... we have alcohol in our system..."

"Right..." then as a needy and impatient as you are, you lean in already and started kissing Seungcheol on the lips.

The kiss surprisingly didn't start sloppy or awkward. It just went smoothly and very... arousing.

He is moaning already into the kiss. That's how good it makes him feel already.

"See.... you want it too..." you tease, smiling pulling away and looking at his turned on face.

"Who said I didn't want to?" He then carries you off him and carefully puts you back down the mat. "I wanted to wreck you since this morning when I first saw you wearing this revealing top..." his hand glides up from your tummy to your neck, right under your shirt. The motion lifted your shirt up exposing the lower part of your tits. "Fuck!" He hisses. "Your body is so fucking insane." He lowers his head and starts nibbling your skin from your belly buttom to your underboob.

"Ahh..." you inhale sharply when he sucked your skin and making sure he's leaving a mark. "Are you happy I didn't wear any bra today?" You ask

"The fuck I am." He goes to fully take off your top and start sucking and squeezing both alternately.

You moan at every suck, lick and flick he does. "Oh fuck... yes..." your hips dance every time his tongue touches your nipple.

"You're sensitive. You really like this huh?" He looks up at you while his tongue continues to pleasure you.

You nod your head, smiling while biting your lips.

"Fuck!" You throw your head back the second you felt him cup you down there. And since you're just wearing your black leggings, you could really feel his finger rubbing you there. "Ngggaaaahh..." you breathing heavy

"You sound so sexy...." he hums right st your ears as he watches you react to his strokes.

"You're teasing me too much..." you say

"Do I?" He chuckles

"Let me do the same!"

You are getting competitive now. You don't want to loose even though there is no game. You just know he's enjoying you moan just with just his little touches and licks. But you want him to whimper like you or more.

"Let me show you what I can do for you..." you push him away and then ride him on top again. "It's unfair that I'm the only one moaning in this session...." you move your hands quickly, pushing his jogging pants and his boxers down at the same time. "Dang..." your eyes widened as you see how long and thich he is. "You're hiding this from me?" You gently touch his wet tip.

"I'm not... technically hiding how big I am..." he answers before taking his shirt off. "You know I am big."

"Wow! You are one cocky mother fucker!" You laugh slapping his abs. "Let's see how cocky you'd still be after I make you come..."

"Bring it on." He says, rubbing his palm to your tits. "I've always wanted to know how your mouth feels on my dick..."

"Really? I'm flattered..." leaning in for a sweeet smooch on his lips. "Seems like... you've been having dirty thoughts about me for a while now..."

"I do..." he answers honestly, gazing straight into your eyes as your faces are just inches away. "I've been a bad friend..."

You kiss the corner of his lips. "It's fine.... I like bad boys..." you whisper sensually before you wrap your hands completely around his length.

You start slowly, pumping him while your eyes are glued to his. You want to see his face, his expression change while you squeeze him. You want to see him melt under your touch.

"Y/N... fuck!" He's breathing goes hectic as you now start to lick him. You are teasing him the way he teased you. "Ahh!" He growls when swirl your tongue on the tip.

Now, you begin to take him all in. Your whole mouth wrapped around his length. You are drooling at how big he is in your mouth but its worth it. His moaning and whimpers are all music to your ears.

"I think I'm going...t-to explode... fucking hell Y/N!"

You give him a final lick from buttom to top before giving him sensual kisses on his abdomen and then to his pecks.

"Do you want to explode inside of me?"

Those words pumped his adrenaline even more. You know it did coz his dick got flexes and got more harder than what it is. He even got up as quickly as he can and take you in for a kiss before he warns you and says, "Now, let me fuck you real good... raw and hard."

#yuyu1024 #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen seungcheol #svt smut #svt fanfic #svt imagines #scoups x you #scoups x reader #scoups fanfic #scoups x y/n #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #seungcheol smut #seungcheol svt #scoups smut #svt x reader #svt x y/n #smut writing

[theferrarieffect]

in the practice room

masterlist

Charles x reader (4.8k words)

summary: charles is a man that contains multitudes. you help him see that through the music.

warnings: mention of deaths of parents, slight music lingo (not necessary to the plot), fluff

in the practice room

In a bustling but quiet coffee shop, you bend over a pile of papers filled with messy notes, rests, and slurs. On the B section of the piece, you scratch out a run of eighth notes you had just penciled in, frowning slightly at the score. Something’s just not right.

You decide this calls for some noodling around on the piano to figure it out, so you tuck your sheets safely into a manila folder and the folder into your canvas tote, sling the bag over your shoulder, and scoop up your iced americano with one hand while fumbling for your wallet containing your bus card in your pocket with the other. You turn around and—

Disaster. As your hand makes contact with the stranger who seemingly came out of nowhere, your cup goes flying out of your hand, coffee soaking your pants, your socks, your shoes. You yelp as you feel cold liquid on your ankles—thank god you went with iced today instead of a latte. The straps of your heavy tote slide down your shoulder, catching painfully in the crook of your elbow, bumping indignantly into the perpetrator as it swings. His mouth is shaped in a tiny, surprised O. You’re fairly sure yours is, too. Students glance up from their laptops; a group of older women pause their conversation, peering curiously at the two of you.

“Oh, my god,” the stranger says. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you mutter automatically, crouching to pick up the sad remnants of your americano. As you rise, you notice that the coffee has stained his perfectly white pants. You gasp. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” he asks, then follows your gaze down. “Oh.”

“Shit. Your pants are ruined.” You crane your neck, searching desperately for a potential source of napkins.

“So are yours,” he points out rather unhelpfully.

Magically, a barista hurries over right then with a stack of paper towels. “Thank you so much,” you tell him hastily as you hand one to the stranger and start dabbing at your own clothes, dragging some of them around the floor with a shoe. Your tote—along with its precious cargo of textbooks and your score—seems thankfully unharmed, and you set it gingerly down in a chair while you clean.

The stranger bends down and starts helping you mop up the rest of the floor. You see a pair of aviators nestled in his brown curls. And as the initial shock of the collision subsides, you take in the thick eyelashes, a perfectly sloped nose, a Cupid’s bow that looked like a little upside-down W. You wonder if he has a girlfriend, and think to yourself that if you guys weren’t drenched in coffee, you might even have dared to ask.

He finishes wiping away the puddle, and stands up, finally meeting your eyes for the first time. He has the kind of eyes that are every color under the sun; a ring of blue fading into green, a sunburst of brown around his pupils. “I am so stupid,” he says in heavily accented English. “Your clothes are ruined—let me replace them.”

Replace them? You blush at the thought of him replacing your clothes. Then you blush harder when you realize he doesn’t mean it like that at all.

“No, no,” you wave the offer away. “It’s coffee, I can try it in the wash.” Although in your experience, light wash jeans and a cream hoodie usually did not play well with bean juice. And of course it had soaked the seam between your legs, making for a maximally embarrassing look. “And your pants are ruined too…”

The cute stranger sighs. “Guess so. And I’d just gotten here. I hope you weren’t on your way to somewhere important.”

You shake your head. “I was just headed to the uni’s music rooms. A friend dropped me off here but I can take the bus to the school.”

He raises an eyebrow at music rooms. “You’re still going?”

“I mean, I should probably try to get home first,” you say, realizing that you’re a little out of options.

“I drove here,” the stranger informs you. He pauses. “Let me take you to your apartment, or least get you somewhat close. If you’re okay with it, of course.”

You consider this. You give him a once-over; his arms are crossed, and he looks a little nervous, tapping a white sneaker on the ground. You figure he’s probably not the first serial killer of Monaco you’ve ever heard of. “Okay,” you shrug. “I appreciate it.”

He smiles, his playful lips curling up at the corners. “Not a problem. My car’s out in front.”

He opens the door for you on your way out of the coffee shop. You hear whispers from several tables as you pass by.

A lot houses rows of parked cars on the side of the plaza. On the far edge is one of those extremely fancy sports cars, most of which you know nothing about. Even in Monaco, a place with no shortage of nice cars, it stands out—and not just because whoever parked it did a truly horrendous job of it.

The stranger strides down the lot, and you point out the fancy car. “Whoa. Look at that.”

“Cool car,” he says casually. He stops at the far side of the lot.

You chuckle. “I hope you parked before this guy came in.” You grab the passenger side handle of the white sedan next to it—

“Wait!” the stranger cries. Alarmed, you release the door. He reaches into his pocket, produces a keychain with an electronic fob and a little horse dangling from it. And the ridiculous sports car next to it chirps awake.

“Oh my god.”

He looks sheepish. “Sorry, I’m kind of a terrible parker.”

Your cheeks are on fire. “I didn’t mean to roast you,” you mutter.

But he smiles and opens the door for you. You climb in, afraid to touch anything. Or breathe, for that matter.

He joins you in the car. “I should tell you my name,” he says. Extends a hand. “Charles.”

You accept the handshake, feeling a tiny frission of something bloom in your chest, and tell him your name too.

“Well,” Charles says. “To where do I have the pleasure of driving you this morning?”

You laugh. Charles is so cheesy. And very, very cute. “My apartment is…” you finish with the address.

He punches it into the GPS and starts up the car. Classical music begins playing.

“Grieg,” you muse as the strains of his piano concerto float through the speakers. “Good taste.”

Charles gives you a sidelong glance. “You play piano?”

“Just a little,” you admit. “I’m not any good, but we have to know some basics for music composition.”

“So you’re a student?”

“Grad school. Third year.”

“Wow,” Charles says. “That’s pretty impressive.”

You chuckle then, because to you it’s definitely not. “Well? What do you do?”

It’s telling of how intently you’ve been staring at him that you notice a tiny muscle in his neck tense at your question.

“Hmm, well. I also play, although I’m no good, mostly trying to learn. But if you’re asking about my job, I work…for a car company.”

Ah. That explains a lot. “Just a guess…” you say in a bit of a teasing tone, looking at the little black horse on the wheel. “Ferrari?”

“Bingo,” Charles says.

“What do you do for them?”

“I, uh…” he looks uncomfortable now. “I drive for some of their specialized lines, I guess.”

“So you’re a test driver!” You didn’t even know that was a full-time job. It’s pretty sick.

Charles chuckles. “I guess, of a sort.”

“And you say grad school is cool,” you snort as he pulls up in front of your apartment. Rubenstein is just starting the cadenza of the first movement.

“It is,” Charles says, his insistent tone catching you by surprise. “Being able to just learn, immerse yourself in something that deeply…I’m pretty jealous, if I’m being honest.”

You look at him questioningly.

“Ferrari has me traveling quite a bit,” he clarifies. “Not exactly the most conducive life to go back to school. And I love playing piano, but I can only really do it back home.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little bad for Charles.

He shrugs. “Are you still going to the practice rooms? Because I am totally happy to wait for you to change and then drive you there.”

“I can’t have you be my taxi,” you laugh. “Seriously, thank you for bringing me home. You really saved me from a small dilemma.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You feel slightly deflated at the thought of never seeing Charles again. Monaco was small, right? Maybe you’d run into him…someday. Maybe.

“Alright then,” he agrees. He gives you a long look, as if he’s taking you in. “I’m sorry again for the coffee. I’ll…see you around.”

“Goodbye, Charles.” You shut the door of his gorgeous Ferrari and walk up the stairs of your apartment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you watch him drive away as you open the front door.

~

A week later, Charles couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have done something, anything to see her again. He kicked himself for not asking her if she wanted to hang out again, not even for her number. He supposed he knew where she lived now, but that was somehow more unhelpful than knowing nothing at all. Charles felt a void open inside his chest, and unable to stand that nagging feeling for another second, grabbed his car keys and a book and and drove to the coffee shop. He didn’t dare let himself hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d be there.

After surreptitiously glancing around to make sure no fans would notice him instantly, Charles pushed his sunglasses onto his head. He surveyed the tables more closely, and then his eyes landed on a sight that filled his head with what felt like helium.

She was sitting in a corner, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, tucking her hair behind her ear as she scribbled busily on a sheet of lined paper. A half-eaten scone sat on a little dish. No sign of a coffee.

“Sorry,” he said to the barista, whom he’d just asked for a latte. “I’ll add one iced americano to my order.”

~

You’re deep in concentration when a looming presence takes over your periphery, and you jump in your seat. It’s Charles. Wearing a disarming smile, a red sweater, and extending a hand holding an iced americano.

Okay, so maybe you picked this coffee shop to work at on purpose. Nobody needed to know that you never worked at the same coffee shop twice in a row, that you were so prone to distraction that you constantly tried to switch up the scenery.

I guess it paid off.

“Charles,” you say, fighting to keep a smile off your face.

“Hi.” He looks shy. “Don’t want to bother you but thought I’d say hi.”

“No, not at all,” you say quickly. Even if Charles sat clear across the shop from you, all hope of concentration was gone. “Want to sit down?”

He accepts your invitation, carefully sliding down the bench across from you. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, and you take a greedy sip of the coffee Charles mercifully brought you.

“I brought a book,” he says proudly, holding up a well-loved copy of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow. He looks a little bit like a child displaying his beloved finger-painting project, and you resist the urge to ruffle his hair. “So I don’t distract you.”

Oh, Charles. If only he knew.

“Too late,” you let yourself say with a small smile. You cannot make eye contact with him right now. “But as luck would have it, I’m finishing up.”

Charles leans over, peering at the rows of staffs penciled in with rolling arpeggios, thick chords in the bass, repeatedly written and re-written tempo changes. “That,” he breathes, “is so cool. Literally mind-blowing.”

You blush furiously. “At least it looks that way. I’m pretty much wrapping up. Need to try a few things on the keyboard.”

“You’re going to the practice room again?” Charles asks.

“Yeah,” you respond. Then you remember something. “Actually, if you want to come—of course you don’t have to—but if you wanted to play piano there are plenty of them there.”

Stupid. Judging by his Ferrari, he probably has a much nicer piano at home. Some of those baby grands at the uni were real crusty…

But his eyes are bright, and he eagerly nods. “Really? Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Sure.”

Charles beams. “I can drive us there.”

The subsequent ride to the music building is scored by Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 2, along with Charles’ laughter.

~

Charles followed her down the silent hall, lined by soundproof rooms each housing a piano in various states of decay. She stopped in front of a room with a shiny black baby grand. “Here,” she whispered. “This is one of the better ones.” She took a tiny key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

He found it rather distracting that they were in a small, enclosed, soundproof room together. Alone. He forced himself to send his imagination into oblivion.

“I’m going to figure out this section of my piece,” she told him. “But I kind of want to hear you play, not gonna lie…” She had a teasing smile on her face.

Charles swallowed. “I told you, I’m terrible.”

“I won’t push you,” she said, more gently this time. “But I do mean it when I say I want to hear you play.”

“Wait,” he said bravely. “I am working on something. Just promise me to be nice.”

She held up a pinky. “Promise.”

Charles took a deep breath. This might have been the first time he’d ever actually played for anyone. Hands shaking, he muddled his way through a simple Chopin waltz he’d been working on. When he finished, he looked up to see her grinning ear to ear.

“See,” he muttered. “Told you I’m bad.”

She answered by sweeping him into a hug. She smelled like the orange blossoms that lined the streets in Monaco.

“Promise me,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by Charles’ shoulder. “Promise me you’ll never say that again.”

~

You can hardly believe it, but that was only the first time you and Charles went to the practice rooms together. Your friend has stopped giving you rides, because every Monday, Charles’ Ferrari waits patiently at your apartment, and you chatter all the way to a coffee shop of the week. Charles reads a book as you work on your manuscripts, study for your written exams, and when you’ve both had enough, you drive to the practice rooms. In the car, he plays a different classical work every time. It’s usually piano, but not always.

Debussy’s Arabesque No. 1. He tells you the song reminds him of the way his stomach flutters before the lights go out at the start of the race, the thrill of rounding a sharp turn. It’s how you find out his real job at Ferrari is being a driver for Formula One.

Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor. You gush over the lush, grandiose chords, describing how you never liked the song much until you heard Yuja Wang tear it to shreds. You confess that it’s so intense, so majestic, that you’ll blast it through your headphones at the gym of all places.

Schubert’s Impromptu Op. 90, No. 3. He asks you if you’ve seen that sci-fi movie, Gattcca. It sounds vaguely familiar. He launches into a description of Uma Thurman telling Ethan Hawke, “that piece can only be played with twelve fingers.” You laugh and tell him the song takes place almost entirely on the black keys, so Uma’s character must not be totally wrong. He says you two need to watch the movie together sometime. Your stomach flutters at the thought of a movie night with Charles.

Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Pas de deux. You tell him that you danced ballet for almost ten years as a child, but you could never take your eyes off the piano in the corner of the studio. Your last dance ever was as the Sugar Plum Fairy, and as soon as you took your bow, you rushed over to peer into the pit orchestra. Charles catches you by surprise, tells you that while his dad was still alive, he used to drag his entire family to see the ballet every Christmas. You feel a pang in your chest, place your hand over his.

He’s always shocked when you identify the song, most of them within a few notes. You laugh, tease him that he plays cliché music. You don’t tell him that you let yourself imagine each song is like a flower that he brings to your doorstep, even though neither of you have said anything about what you are, what these weekly excursions to the practice rooms mean.

Barber’s Adagio for Strings. You complain that Charles is being a total downer, then promptly confess that this is the only thing you want played at your funeral. Charles teases you for already having the soundtrack to your funeral in mind…and asks if the same is true for your wedding. You roll your eyes, blushing, smack his arm playfully…and tell him it’s the 18th variation of Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. Fireworks, you say. This song makes me see fireworks. It’s, like, the epitome of love.

The next day, a small bouquet of lilies on top of an aging manila folder is waiting at your door. You open the folder gingerly and gasp. Penned on the top of the vintage score in Russian, in what may well be Rachmaninoff’s own hand, is Rapsodiya na temu Paganini. A small cream card falls out, emblazoned with a now-familiar black horse.

Thanks for showing me the fireworks, too, it says.

~

“Wait,” Charles said one day, interrupting the plaintive strains of the Adagio of the Spartacus Suite. “Let me queue up a different song.”

He tapped around until he found the playlist he wanted. From the very first note, her face flashed with recognition.

“Liebestraum,” she said. “And by the sounds of it, Arthur Rubenstein.”

Charles never ceased to be amazed by her ears. It was borderline freakish.

“This came up once, totally randomly, while I was on a drive,” he told her. “I feel like there are so many songs in classical music that are…so emotional. Majestic. But most of the time, it’s me that’s doing the feeling. This song…I can almost feel how the composer—and the player—must have felt bringing it into existence.”

She looked deep in thought. Only noticing Charles’ eyes on her seemed to break her reverie. “It’s a good song,” she replied evenly.

Charles felt slightly crestfallen. It wasn’t like her to not provide a whole commentary on a classical piece. He’d expected her to wax poetic about the dynamic contrast, the pacing, the dissonant cadenza.

“Definitely.” He tried to hide his disappointment.

It was a bad day for Charles’ fingers, as he liked to say. Frustrated, he decided to take a walk around the studio as a refresher. He wondered if she was working on her score. Then he realized that he’d never actually heard her play before. Suddenly overcome with curiosity, he crept as silently as he could down the hall until he heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

She was sitting in front of a piano, but there were no stacks of messy papers on the bench or the stand, no pencil tucked behind her ear. Her eyes were closed; she looked utterly peaceful, belying the sounds of the flying arpeggios, the chords crashing like waves on the Monégasque beach, that she coaxed effortlessly out of the old instrument.

Charles felt a choking sensation grow in his chest, his throat, as the Liebestraum modulated from its playful B major, then C, E, and finally the soaring climax of its home key. She touched the final note, the simplest of simple A flats, letting it linger until the walls of the practice room sucked it away far too soon.

A tear splashed onto one of the keys. She wiped it away with the sleeve of her hoodie. Her face, no longer peaceful, looked haunted. Charles felt like a little piece of his heart had chipped off.

He tried to turn around and sneak back to his room, but she looked up, and they locked eyes. She froze.

Charles tapped softly on the door. She nodded. He opened the door, sat next to her on the piano bench.

“Charles—” she began.

“You’re incredible.” He shook his head, still in disbelief.

She hung her head. Her shoulders drooped. “I’m not.”

“You only ever talk about composition. Why didn’t you ever tell me you perform?”

Her lips flattened into a line. “I don’t. Not anymore.”

He gaped. “Why not?” This girl could put actual professionals to shame.

“It’s a long story.” she said curtly. But Charles saw her eyes fill with tears.

He put an arm around her shoulder, and felt her lean in. “Want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

She swiped across her eyes with her sleeve. “You played that song in the car,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“The truth is that when I started school, I wasn’t just studying composition,” she continued slowly. “I was actually majoring in piano performance.”

“As you should,” Charles blurted impulsively.

She gave him a watery smile. “My mom, she was pretty against the whole music thing. But my dad loved piano. He was really good himself, but I guess my grandparents were like my mom, so he just had a normal job. And most of all…” her voice quivered, “he loved the Liebestraum. So much. I listened to it constantly growing up…hearing my dad play it was probably why I started playing in the first place.”

Charles’ heart gave a painful squeeze. He dreaded where this was going.

She gave a heavy sigh. “My first year, my dad got a heart attack. At Christmas dinner. He was gone…just like that.”

“Oh, no,” Charles whispered.

“I went back to school the next semester, but I couldn’t play anymore the way I used to. So I quit. I switched my concentration to theory and composition. Honestly, I never even practice anymore, even for fun…but then you played that song in the car…”

Charles felt like an asshole. Of course he had no idea what that song meant to her. But how fucked up was it that he’d thought he was bringing her a flower…and what she saw was a knife? “I’m sorry,” he said morosely.

“It’s okay.”

“For what it’s worth,” Charles said softly, “the way you played…if heaven is really a thing…you dad got to hear exactly how much you love him today.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Then she leaned in, and Charles smelled orange blossoms, felt her lips delicately brush his cheek.

“Thank you, Charles.”

~

One day, Charles tells you that he won’t be able to see you next weekend—the race weekend is in Singapore, and the drivers are heading there almost a week early for the time change. He looks almost as cut up about it as you feel.

“So I was thinking,” he says hesitantly, “maybe we could hang out more after the practice room. Only if you want.”

“Sure,” you say, trying not to betray your excitement. Or nervousness. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Well,” Charles says, running a hand through his soft, tousled brown hair. “We could get dinner. And then I wanted to show you something out on the water.”

You laugh, because of course Charles owns a boat, and tell him so. His cheeks bloom with two patches of pink, but he looks pleased nonetheless.

Dinner is delicious, not that you could pay any attention to the plates of tortellini smothered in creamy white béchamel, the perfectly crispy, charred pizza with sprigs of arugula and prosciutto, not when Charles peeks adorably at you over the top of his wine glass, lifts his slice of pizza to toast yours, fails to correct the waiter when she calls you a “beautiful couple”. Especially not when his fingers find yours as you walk out of the restaurant, and they intertwine and stay that way as he drives you along the asphalt ribbon of the Monégasque shoreline, to the harbor where his yacht is docked.

The dying sunset stains the sky a brilliant shade of orange, fading into darkness by the time he drives the boat deeper offshore. Stars dot the sky like a smattering of freckles. The coast is brightly lit, and you point out the crowds that seem to be gathering near the harbor.

“As luck would have it,” Charles says, “a couple days in the summer, there’s a festival on the Port.”

“Is that why we’re out at sea instead of, I don’t know, enjoying the actual festival?” you tease, earning yourself a gentle poke in the ribs.

“Just wait.”

You hear the faint sound of music coming from the shore, some upbeat pop thing. Charles is fiddling with some buttons on the dashboard of the yacht. Suddenly, the those familiar inverted chords in D flat major that never fail to make you feel like you’re melting, signaling the beginning of Rhapsody, sound through the speakers on the sides of the boat. Your heart pounds. Charles wraps an arm around your waist, and takes you onto the deck as the music swells, the cellos and basses joining the violins. He points up at the sky.

And the fireworks begin.

Bursts of red, green, purple. Blazing trails of gold, like comets, exploding in a shower of glitter that crackles on the way down. You look at Charles, seeing the dazzling sparkles reflected in his eyes, and they are filled with so much longing that your own heart aches.

“They’re gorgeous,” you tell those eyes, not entirely sure you’re talking about the fireworks anymore.

“Good,” Charles says hoarsely. He tilts your jaw up with two gentle fingers. Hardly an inch away from your own, his lips move as he says in the barest of whispers, “Because now you see what I’ve been seeing…every Monday for a long, long time.”

Your lips quiver, but Charles leans in, and stills them with his own. Even though your eyes are squeezed tightly shut, you see fireworks.

~

one year later

Applause fills the air as you hit the last thundering chord of Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor with a flourish. You stand, the stage lights making you feel giddy—or maybe it’s the exhilaration of finishing your senior concert—and you take your bow. The chiffon hem of your dress skims the ground as you walk off stage and are swarmed with friends and family and proud professors, but your eyes roam the crowd for just one person.

And there he is. An armful of lilies demands one of his arms, so he sweeps you close with the other. He brushes your lips with a kiss.

“Congratulations,” Charles whispers.

“Thanks,” you beam, a little teary-eyed.

“Grieg, huh?” he says. “No wonder you didn’t want to show me the program in advance.”

“It was meant to be poetic,” you laugh, and he kisses you again.

And it was. One day you sat down and counted every song you and Charles had played in his Ferrari on the way to the practice room before the night of the fireworks. Sixteen. Like the number emblazoned on his car, on the hoodies you regularly stole from his closet, on the posters you brought to his race weekends. Sixteen songs, and that concerto just happened to be the one that started it all.

notes: if you couldn’t tell….i played a lot of piano growing up. fic inspired by this post

random easter eggs:

hehe i am so stupid reference

gatacca (highly recommend)

til there is an actual fireworks show in monaco

and of course, charles actually playing the piano :’))))))) he truly contains multitudes i love him so much

#f1 #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #charles leclerc #charles x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader

[drolly-rolly]

Ghost Soap: Berlin, a club, a dark room

(CW: age gap, unrequited SoapGaz, kink/BDSM, experience gap, eventual Ghoap is 100% consensual BUT definitely could be considered rushed/too fast by the fault of either/both of these dumb, horny men) Gaz and Soap are traveling during a uni holiday break, bumping through the continent before they have to go back and properly crack down: Kyle’s has a real shot at the Olympic team and Soap’s crammed his upcoming term with more courses than anyone should in an effort to save the dwindling funds from his scholarship. The only reason Soap’s along at all is Kyle’s charity and he tries not to think too much about how much, and exactly why, he’s going to miss him. They’re in Berlin when they meet up with this goth chick that Soap is desperately trying to impress. She goes along with it and invites them both to the club: It's overwhelming in the way that they are for first timers, which both of them absolutely are. Soap definitely lied about how experienced he was (or deliberately left out how green he is) to impress this girl so naturally the situation once they’re inside goes all tits up in the wrong way. The girl ends up making out with Gaz in the hallway instead of Soap and he can’t blame her, look at the guy. Or maybe she was hoping she’d get both of them, way she’s looking at him, but that’s definitely too close to those things Soap doesn’t want to think concerning Gaz so he wishes them well, despite the hollow gnawing in his chest and wanders.

He ends up talking to a woman who’s a little older, beautiful and attractive but she laughs and just pats him on the head when he thinks that CBT means Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, he took Intro Psych his first year, and suggests he find someone more his speed to play with. 

“Play? I’m not a kid.” He says. He’s been with older women and they’ve liked him and there’s definitely something about this one that he likes.

“Not that kind of play.” She just smiles at him with perfectly painted lips. Then asks him if she can help him find his friends, but he’s a stubborn little idiot with bruised pride so of course he tells her it's fine.

After that he just wants a place to curl up and be the fuck alone and have his sad, confused boy- man, adult man, feelings. But he’s sort of lost and doesn’t know where he’s supposed to go and definitely doesn’t speak enough German to really properly navigate this place that is so much bigger than it looked from the outside.. Naturally ends up where he shouldn’t be.

Enter Ghost, full gear. Mask, of course. Not currently with anyone per se but assisting another pair. Hears Soap before he sees him. Rolls his eyes, figures he should probably get this stupid kid out of here. Soap’s not expecting the massive man in the skull mask and the whole… outfit… to speak english. Isn’t expecting his knees to turn into pudding when he hears the voice. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here, sweetheart.” He stalks forward and Soap can’t look away. “Why not?” Soap says. It's stupid. But right now he’d do anything to keep those dark, almost black eyes on him. Keep him saying ‘sweetheart’ instead of ‘kid’. “Door wasn’t locked.”

“I think you know why.”  Ghost says. “If I don’t…Would you teach me?””

And the way he bats his eyelashes has to be intentional, has to know what he’s doing. Testing Ghost’s self control. “You definitely don’t know what you’re asking for.”

(Part 1, already working on Part 2!) Special kudos to @leathfaic for our silly chit chats that lead to this.

#Ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap

[aardvaark]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers :)

hi again! hope you’re having a wonderful day.

walking around lakes, wetlands, or bushland (australian equivalent of… woodland, i guess? natural spaces? for the non-australians). i like hanging out by a nearby wetland that has some walking paths & just reading as i walk around, or sitting by a lake and listening to music. sometimes it’s nice just to watch birds or fish or turtles etc quietly, no music no books just existing.

reading. i even go to a book club with a lot of retired older women at a local library. support your local libraries, people! side note: retired older women really, really like psychological thriller-y murder mysteries. did not see that coming tbh - but i like it!

analysing books, tv shows & movies. most people hated english classes but that was where i thrived lol, i write mini essays or take notes for fun sometimes (and i don’t just mean the little ‘metas’ that i post here - i have pages and pages of brainstorms about the themes of books ive read. i find it extremely interesting & fun tho i know its weird to basically have homework as a hobby lmao).

rewatching comfort shows. certain eps of leverage & bones are particularly nice. i like the haunting of hill house too, which might not sound comforting lol but i really like the themes & sometimes the horror is a good way to distract you from real life horrors lmao. and then community, which is just very funny. and of course pushing daisies… most comforting comfort show of all time. nothing beats that.

going to a library or café just to do my study somewhere else. im in uni at the moment and i find that u study better when i’m not cooped up in my room.

and that’s five! thanks for asking :)

#wren speaks #werewolfsmile #ask #asks

[brotherfrog]

more ramblings this time about class. excuse my Paul Auster-esque tone, I’m reading him atm and I’m having fun

when you grow up working class but find yourself surrounded by middle class ppl in adulthood it can be jarring sometimes be in conversation. when I went to university - a very good English uni in the midlands that typically attracts middle class southerners, on account of it being northern enough for the housing to be cheap, but not so north as to pose a linguistic barrier - my classmates were often surprised to here me answer “here” when they asked “where are you from?”

I found myself on a weekend away not too long ago with educated, financially comfortable women, and the topic of true crime - of which we all enjoyed - came up, and consequentially prisons. the state of them, how awful it would be to be in prison. yet when I mentioned in this conversation how a relative of mine had done a long stay, and a few other relatives short stays, and began to recount their anecdotes, it felt like the atmosphere shifted slightly

I was 19 yrs old, chatting to some new friends in their twenties, both from the south, about the museums in London. I told them I had never been to one. They couldn’t believe it. Well, I explained, London is quite far from where I grew up. But it’s not too long on the train, they said. You could be there and back again in a day. What I found harder to articulate was that my family was not the type to do day trips into London to visit museums; London museums was not something even on my agenda, not in my vocabulary, until that conversation

if I do say so myself, I’m a well read, articulate person of moderate intelligence. the working class people I meet, who I almost always feel more comfortable and more myself around, often accuse me of being posh, without knowing my background. to the left leaning middle classes, if they learn of my more conservative politics, im just another Tory wanting to stay in power. without knowing that people like me, and my family, have never been in power, and quite frankly have no interest in it

It’s weird, being in this camouflage state of class. I sometimes feel the need to play up my accent, make it more common and incomprehensible to non-locals, in order to prove my background, and prove my allegiance and love for the working classes of my country. But it’s the same accent that I have to downplay to be taken seriously in a corporate or academic setting. And then, after a few drinks when the accent is naturally stronger, I’ll be playfully teased about by my middle class friends.

running in these two separate spheres, I feel excited when I get to spend time with people with interests in high art and academia, and can talk earnestly and intelligently about those topics; and then I feel floored by their lack of self awareness on the individual economy of the majority of their countrymen, viewing a “reasonable cost” as something I would never pay for in my life. At the same time, I feel invigorated when I get to spend time with people from my home town, where I don’t feel like I have to perform to a higher ideal of decorum, people who are very much focused on the here and now, their local communities, their friendliness and selflessness; but then feel alienated when they say something off colour, or make an uneducated racist joke.

Im stereotyping massively here of course, for the sake of trying to put words to my thoughts. And there’s no conclusion to this as there often isn’t in my rambling posts. Just that, I suppose, it’s my opinion that class is the biggest divider in my country, and it’s weird to be caught in the crosshairs of it

[rune-folk]

two ramble posts in a row, im sorry. again, block the tag if it annoys you. this post is going to be long, sorry

anyways, i am going to introduce a new code name. while Reidar is the guy i have this weird friendship/dating situation thing with and Halfdan is my good friend, i am introducing a non norwegian now. he is from central europe so i will call him Manfred. just as for the other two, not his real name

anyways, Manfred is my coworker. his desk is next to mine. he does not speak any norwegian and is not very comfortable in speaking english, so as i speak german he speaks (according to my boss) more with me than he had in the previous 4 years of working there. (his german is also very unclear, so that even i have to often ask him to repeat himself)

anyways, he is this typical guy who does not go out, only goes from his home to work and back. he has no friends in norway outside of work, and even there he never joins when we go out (we are a very social group and meet up almost every weekend).

he is this kind of guy who thinks not giving a shit about how he looks makes him cool, he has always top everything you say or mame snarky comments. criticising womrns makeup, how people dress or behave, while himself wearing old af shoes, washe dout jeans and a black shirt every day, despite having the money to buy anything he wants. nothing wrong with that but hypocritical. he also complains about norwegian women on tinder, that they expect so much, while looking like sjit. he also thinks it is cool that he does not work out and eats frozen pizza.

he also is older than most of us and even older than my boss (he is 35 she is 32) and thinks this means he is therefore better and treats the rest of us like children in a condescending way, and always says that im such a child even though i am 27 and have my life more in order than he has.

oh wait no, wrong. he does not treat all of us like that. just the women.

he treats us as if we dont know what we are doing (we all have a masters degree in the same field, and i took less than half the time for it than he did), he does not take us for full and acts as if he is the only adult in the room. he also makes fun of us women because we are all pretty short and he is tall. wow such adult. so mature.

then comes the part that only i get to suffer because i speak german.

maybe people who have suffered through my ramblings a bit have noticed, i am a talkative person. i am shy at first, but after a time im friendly and like small talk. so as i started during covid and he was the only other person also coming to the office (i could not be in homeoffice as i literally did not have any furniture in my apartment because i moved for the job) we started talking. he went to the same uni as i, we knew the same people and professors, so of course there was much topic

anyways, he started to make more and more weird comments. like he uses the german word "Schatz" at me, which literally means treasure and is a term you would usually use for your romantic partner. he only does this with me.

then e.g. i dont want kids. i am even one of those people who actively dislikes kids, and does not want to be around them. i am a spoonie. i never want to have children and even if i would never curse them with my fucked genes.

when this came up he just laughs and is like "yea yea you will change your mind", "yea call me when you are pregnant" (mind you i am single). he does not know me or my life, so it is so inappropriate for him to say stuff like that. i also find it highly disrespectful tbh. i am also very easy to startle, and flinch with every loud noise. he constantly says how cute it is. yea.. not something to say to a coworker imo

but i am nice i dont want trouble, i keep it to myself.

but now, in september i was on a work trip in the alps, and he was with me. i met an old colleague there but other than that i knew no one, so he was the only one to talk to outside of the meetings for the week. we also added two days in a nearby city after the work trip because there were no direct flights back home.

during that time the comments just grew more and more inappropriate.

he knows my ex, who studied with him. he said "we should go back and pretend that there is something going on between us just to bother him"

first of all, no. weird. second of all. no. that is so cruel, the thing with my ex is still quite complicated. i told him no.

then again, a few days later, because apparently my boss told my male coworkers not to hit on me when i would start my job.

"we should pretend in front of your boss that there is something going on between us, that would be fun" (she is not his boss, he has a different boss, but his boss is also my second boss.. it is a bit confusing i know but we are still working in the same group)

no it would not. that is weird..stop suggesting that.

he also made a comment like "we're not married yet, Schatz" when i joked that he could finish my food at a restaurant. again, weird.

after the trip i was super sick of him. but now suddenly he joins all the outings with work people where he usually would not even bother. im so sick of him. and now those outings are annoying because i try to keep away from him but he always goes so he walks next to me and then throws in side comments or german comments

im trying to ignore him and sometimes i think he notices but he still tries to engage so i just pretend i am super busy and stressed. then he constantly looks over the small wall dividing our desks to look at my work and makes comments. usually that is not a problem and i dont mind, we work together and it can be useful but i am so sick of him that every breath he takes annoys me

so, yea.. now idk what to do. i told some of my coworker friends that i am creeped out by him, but they dont know what to do either.

should i tell my boss? she is italian and very direct. idk i dont want stress. i should add he cannot be fired because of this i think, but it would make things weird. i can also not change desks. my second boss who is his boss is also very non confrontational so idk if telling her would do anything.

his contract would run out this month but he got an extension, so my hope to be rid of him is sadly not going to happen. idk.. this is sjit

#myposts #runarambles #im tired #sorry this is long #but i had to get it out #idk how to habdle that #he is creepy af and i want to have time away from him

[leoxclark]

About Leo

Full name: Leonardo Andrew Clark Nicknames: Leo  Age: 35 years old Place of Birth: East Haven  Occupation: CEO at Clark Publishing, Owner of Book Haven  Education: Buisness major with minor in Literature  Languages: English, Italian

[ Giacomo Gianniotti | 35 | male | he/him ] Hey, look! It’s [ Leonardo Clark] at [Clark Publishing East Haven and Book Haven]. Did you know they [work] there as a [CEO and Owner]? I guess they’re from [East Heaven] and have been in town [since they were born], living in [Primrose Heights]. I also heard they’re a little [entitled], but also very [charming] which definitely makes sense. [ Sirius | 31 | gmt+1 | she/her ]

More Information

His father is American and a Clark, one of the Founding families, and his mother is second generation Italian-American. His maternal grandfather is the head of a prominent Italian family. His family founded East haven with the other Founding families.

Growing up Leo had everything he could ever want and more. As a founding family member he grew up with a golden spoon in his mouth and a sense of entitlement, importance and knowledge he could do whatever he wanted and he would never really get in trouble. This made him reckless and brazen from a young age, constantly pushing authority but also easily taking credit from others. 

While Leo was quite a brat, he was popular enough in school and among his peers. He always shared his familys wealth and good fortune with his friends. Of course that meant even as a little boy he had friends who were only with him to get their share, but he didn’t much care as long as they appeared loyal. 

He was a bit of a sleeze ball in high school, but could not stand bullies. So even though he was a popular kid at his private school, he did not watch anyone being bullied or participated in bullying himself. He stood up for the underdogs, yet did not go out of his way to help those in lower social circles. 

He grew up as his mothers favourite and most cherished child. In her eyes he could do no wrong and she always boasted of his accomplishments big and small. She also has been overly involved in his love life, always having an opinion on the few women he has seen with serious intent. 

Because of his mother he has a love of Italian cuisine and speaks Italian. She spoke Italian at home his entire childhood and they still converse in Italian when it suites them. All his siblings can also speak Italian and have been raised with both American and Italian values and culture. 

He went to Uni for a Major in Business and minor in Literature but he partied a lot and was more invested in having a great time than doing well in class. When he did have to apply himself though he had good grades and he never failed a test or had a low grade on an exam. His father would not have accepted that from him.  

His familys Publishing company also has offices in NYC and Boston, both of which he oversees as CEO. 

While his father had him sit in on meetings and meet with investors and others in the business when he was in college, Leo never had to get his hands dirty as he was interning with his father for 2 years before taking over as owner and CEO the moment he graduated from University.  

He is a notorious playboy who have only had one serious relationship. His girlfriend of three years, who he was genuinely planning on proposing to, disappeared 7 years ago, literally falling off the face of the earth. Leo felt very betrayed and was heartbroken. He has not pursued any serious relationships since and decided to only have a good time with women. His father does push for him to settle down from time to time, but he usually uses work and building his career as an excuse. The way he frames it is he is too consumed and busy being a CEO to focus on starting a family at the moment. 

He knows he can’t remain single forever though, as both his parents expect grandchildren. This worries him and in his darker hours he frets about having to give up his independence and commit to someone. In his eyes women can not be trusted and he expects to be betrayed or left behind. 

He has a love of high end tailored suits and clothing, cigars, cars and expensive wine and whiskey. 

As the oldest sibling he has always been a very loyal and caring brother, always being there for his siblings and making time for them when they need him. He is however notorious for not asking for help himself. 

#easthavenintro #about leo. #I'm the one who put you up there name in the sky ; leo

[onlyhereforthestories]

Always (Patri Guijarro x Reader)

The lovely @footygirl114 helped me with this concept so this one is for her! I hope you all enjoy reading sone one differnt on my page. Patri is actually my favourite behind Ale so 👏

You had joined Barcelona women’s team in the summer, you came from PSG along with Perades and played on the right wing so you didn’t know what kind of game time or competition you were going in to. When you first arrived you struggled fitting in, you barely knew a word or Spanish unlike Irene so you couldn’t connect with some of your new teammates. When you moved to PSG straight out of college in England, you barely spoke a work of French and even now 4 years later your French wasn’t great but you didn’t know how you were going to learn yet another language.

You were lucky enough to have Lieke on the team, being from the Netherlands she spoke pretty perfect English and was happy to take you under her wing being a fellow winger as well. You also managed to speak to Alexia a little bit, her English skills surprising you being as she hadn��t left Spain at all in her career.

A month into your time with the team was the first time you spoke to Patri Guijarro, she was playing just behind you in a training match and you were not making the run she wanted. “Y/n I need you to extraer, closer to the ummm linea de contacto.” You assumed she meant line so you did as she asked. Within a minute she was playing a ball perfectly into your path which you crossed in and Jenni headed into the goal. “Perfecto, gracias por escuchar lo que dije.”

You just looked at her confused, Lieke noticing this ran over. “She said thank you for listening y/n, just say anytime and run before you make more of a fool out of yourself with those heart eyes.” You looked at the woman in shock, you really hoped Patri didn’t understand her but from the smirk she was currently sporting, you’re hopes went unanswered.

With a wink in your direction the midfielder was running back to position. You really needed to learn some Spanish and soon.

For the next few months you spent you time training and playing with the Barca girls during the day and going to evening Spanish classes, which sometimes Lieke joined you at. You and Patri had started to build up this flirty relationship where you’d make comments at each other, well actually it was more her making comments and you blushing and trying to get some words out, for the last month mainly.

It was apparently very obvious too because Alexia had asked you after training yesterday if you and Patri had actually thought about dating, a question you answered very promptly with a no. You weren’t someone that thought you were worth the time of someone as amazing as Patri, you were sure she was just trying to make you feel more comfortable being new.

Alexia had tried to tell you how untrue that was and that anyone who got the chance to date you would be lucky but you were never one to really listen to that. A lot of baggage came along with you and you didn’t really know how to deal with it. So you were shocked when 6 months into you time here, Patri asked you to get coffee with her after training one day. Of course you accepted, you didn’t even need to think about it.

That’s where you found yourself now, sitting in the passenger’s seat of her car on your way to get coffee. “So y/n why did you move to PSG?” You had noticed recently that the woman’s English had been improving, a fact you were very happy with because your Spanish wasn’t doing half as well as her English was.

“I finished college and decided I didn’t want to do uni, I had an offer from a couple of clubs in England but just wanted to get away so when my agent said PSG were willing to offer me a trial after watching some game tapes I packed up my stuff and never looked back. It took two training sessions for them to give me a contract so it was the best decision I ever made.” You were very proud of how you entered your professional career and you weren’t ashamed to talk about it.

“Very impressive, you started making first team appearance pretty much straight away right?” You smirked to yourself, the woman had either googled you or watched you back then.

“I did yes, 6 months after I signed I was a first team regular. I will always be grateful for the club taking a chance on me.” You would always have a soft spot for PSG and leaving was difficult but at the end of the day when the best team in the world asks you to sign for them you don’t say no.

You and Patri spent a few hours in the coffee shop that day, teaching each other your own respective native language as well as getting to know each other a lot better. You were sure it was going to be the start of something amazing, you just didn’t know if it was a friendship or maybe something more.

Patri was panicking, she didn’t do love. Not once had she felt like she needed to be around someone as much as she did you and she didn’t like it. she knocked on the apartment door in front of her and waited anxiously. “I need you help.” Leila didn’t even get a chance to say anything before the younger woman was walking past her.

“Hi Pats yes please do come in. I wasn’t doing anything you aren’t disturbing me at all.” Patri didn’t listen to the women’s sarcastic teasing she was already spiralling.

“Y/n, she’s confusing me and I don’t like it.” Patri didn’t sit down she was pacing back and forth in Leila’s living room.

“Okay first stop that your making me anxious and two how’s she confusing you? Aren’t you two dating?” that really wasn’t what Patri wanted to hear.

“No. God no. I don’t date, I don’t love. I don’t settle down with just one woman Leila I can’t do that. Love isn’t something I am capable of. We are just having fun flirting there is nothing more than that.” Patri’s tone gave away her turmoil, she didn’t believe a word she was saying herself.

“Have you told her that? Because from what Alexia told me she thinks there’s something there and she was rather looking forward to seeing where it would go. For fuck sake you learned English just to talk to her, if that isn’t love Pats I don’t know what is.” Leila knew she probably shouldn’t have shared what you told Alexia but she was hoping it would get through to the girl in front of her.

“Of course I haven’t, I learnt English because it’s a good skill to have it just so happened that she was around when I did. Now I thought you would be able to help and you haven’t so I need to go. Don’t say anything to Alexia or Jenni for that matter.” Before Leila could stop the girl she was gone. This was going to get messy.

You were back in England for a couple of friendlies, you were excited to see your country teammates and catch up on what they have been up to outside of football. You still managed to catch most of the games when you could so you knew roughly how each of their seasons were going.

“Y/n! I’ve missed you. How’s that Spanish living? The tanned glow you have going on is amazing.” Your best friend Ella Toone came running up to you, Alessia Russo not too far behind her.

“I love it over there. The team is amazing to play with and yes the sun does really help your mood every day. I’m glad to see you two smashing it this season, I knew you would.” After catching up with those and some of the other girls you got stuck into training.

After the first friendly you were in your room playing board games with some of your teammates. You were playing monopoly which you found slightly boring so when it wasn’t your turn you thought you’d check your phone only to find multiple stories added to the Barca girls Instagram’s. They were all their close friend stories so you knew it was bound to be them goofing off.

You pulled up Alexia’s first, they were in a club. You could see most of the Spanish girls you play with dancing around her. You were glad they were having fun. You flipped through them all, showing Ella one that contained Ona sticking her tongue out for the camera until you got to Jenni’s. there in the centre of the dance floor was Patri dancing close with a girl you didn’t recognise. If she wasn’t from Spain you would have thought they were a couple but you knew from numerous nights out that they were very touchy feely people so you just ignored it and carried on with your night.

After a successful time with the national team you were back home in Barcelona. Claudia and Jenni wanted to get coffee before training so the three of you were running slightly late, as you walked into the locker room to leave your bags you overheard what she thinks was Alexia speaking in a forceful whisper. “Patri you slept with that girl for what reason.” You didn’t need to hear anymore.

“Jenni, I left something in the car please can I have the keys.” Jenni gave you a sympathetic look, one you really didn’t want right now, which told you she had also heard what was just said. She handed you the keys and whispered shed cover for you with coach as to why you were late.

You avoided Patri for the whole day, when she walked towards you in training you’d run up to one pf the other girls and start a conversation. When it was announced in the weight room that it was a pairs training session, a session you and Patri almost always do together, Jenni grabbed you and pulled you with her. It was when you didn’t come out to the normal games night Alexia knew something wasn’t right.

“Okay I’ve let it go all day but not anymore. Where’s y/n Jen, she’s been weird all training and so have you.” Jenni knew this conversation was coming, she had spoken to your earlier about what she could say to Alexia and you had given her permission to clue the woman in.

“She was falling for our Patri, she thought the feeling was mutual being as they spent a lot of time together but then we walked into training yesterday after the break and we overheard you scolding Patri for sleeping with someone for an unknown reason. That’s why she was late, she cried and didn’t want it to show so she stayed in the car for ages.” Jenni was upset when she heard you had in fact spent some time in her car crying by yourself. She didn’t really realise how much you liked Patri otherwise she would have followed you.

“Patri’s being an idiota, she’s only doing this because y/n has changed the way she feels about things like love and being around people she loves. I tried to tell her that this isn’t how you work through feelings but she doesn’t care.” There was a fire behind Alexia’s eyes, you were very well liked by all of the team but Alexia and Jenni felt very protective over you.

“There’s nothing we can do about it Ale, Patri is a grown woman that makes her own choices and while those choices are hurting my y/n I will protect her from them.” Alexia agreed with Jenni and the two women decided that it was best to make sure there was always one of them between you and Patri for the time being.

For the next couple of months you didn’t speak to Patri and Patri didn’t speak to you, not that the brown haired woman wasn’t trying, it was just impossible to get through the two older women constantly watching you. During those months you heard from various players on the team of Patri’s conquests, it became a game of would Patri sleep with someone this weekend. You didn’t know what to think, the girl that had been so sweet and learned English to speak easier with you was not this same woman. You would not believe that this was the same woman, but it was.

Patri had in fact only slept with 3 people since she realised what she felt for you, she might have slept with more if she hadn’t of woken up one morning after and drunken night with a woman that looked so much like you. The behind profile had looked so similar that shed pulled you closer thinking shed got the courage to overcome her worries and apologised. It was only when the unknown woman turned round with a disgusted look on her face and asked who y/n was that Patri realised it wasn’t you.

She had left that woman’s bed very quickly after that, not only because she didn’t want to be there but also because the woman was not happy about being called someone else’s name. that how Patri finds herself on Alexia’s front porch, the woman looking at her worriedly as tears fall down her cheeks.

“I love her Ale and I messed up. I love someone and I don’t know how to do that. I hurt her and now I don’t know if she even wants to be my friend.” Alexia pulled her into a warm embrace and pulled her inside. The two women spent the day working through some of Patri’s issues and talking about how she was going to win you back.

Patri walked into training the next day with a slight spring to her step, she had a plan that she was pretty would work, ready to see you. She was the last one in the changing room so when she walked out she scanned the field, when she didn’t see you the first time she looked again. “She’s not here, she asked for some time off and has gone home.” The slight hostility in Jenni’s tone was easily picked up.

“Lo siento, I never meant for this to happen. I was just scared. I didn’t know what to do with love and that scared me. Lo siento Jenni.” No matter how annoyed she was with the girl she could see the younger woman was torn over this, she pulled her to the side Alexia quickly following.

“It’s okay Pats but you need to make this right, even if so the two of you can interact again.” Alexia voice was calm, a stark contrast to the feeling bubbling up inside Patri.

“I don’t want to just interact with her, I want to love her.” With a determined look in her eyes Patri headed in the direction of Jonatan. The women watched her speak with him for s few moments before he patted her on the shoulder and she was running off towards the changing rooms.

“What the hell is that girl going to do?” Alexia just smirked at Jenni.

“She’s going to get her girl.”

You were sat watching the Manchester girls train, being from up north really wasn’t great when you come from sunny Spain on a whim. You were bundled up in Ella’s coats as well as a team puffer jacket on the bench. Ella had welcomed you with open arms and a lot of questions when you showed up soaking wet on her doorstep. You had left Spain in such a hurry you didn’t pack for rain or cold really but that was two days ago and the girls had all lent you stuff to wear.

You were bopping your head along to the music playing through your speakers so you were unaware that the girls were trying to get your attention. It was only when you noticed Leah Galton waving in your direction that you pulled them out your ears to find out what the wanted.

“You are needed at front gate, apparently there’s someone here to see you.” That was odd you hadn’t told anyone you were coming here. Nether the less, you made your way to security to find out who could possibly want you so far away from the place you call home.

You met with the main guy and her told you there was a woman stating she knew you were here and that she was a friend, they thought it was probably true being as you were a visitor not one of the team.

When you were finally shown who was there you froze, what in the name was Patri doing at the Manchester United training facility. It was only when she made eye contact with you that you regained some of your composure and headed in her direction.

“Okay what in the hell are you doing here. They keep asking me to stop a woman from claiming they know me being as I’m not really here. Patri why aren’t you in Spain.” You were dragging her behind you through the halls of a club ground neither of you payed at. You reached the locker room where you knew no one would be and pushed the Spanish midfielder inside. “Start talking.”

“Okay so I have more explaining than this to do but for now I just want you to know I’m sorry. Lo siento. I got scared, you came and turned the way I think around. I don’t do love, I didn’t do love and then you show up and suddenly I’m thinking about all I can do with you. I’ve never once wanted to spend milestones with someone, or spend all my time with someone until you. So yes I was a dick and I did things I really regret, things I will spend time making up for if you’ll let me, but I only did them because I was scared about what you made me feel. I’m not scared anymore, or well not as much and I want this. I want to love and be loved. I deserve to love and be loved. So if I’m not too late, por favor will you give me a chance to prove I’m worth your time and love and that I’ll love you for as long as you will let me.”

You stared that the woman you loved in shock, the girl who days ago was acting in such a childish way was standing in front of you putting all her cards on the table. “Of course I will let you, you idiota, I will always let you.” Patri pulled you in to a kiss that you would remember for the rest of your life, she had her fingers curled in your hair and the other hand splayed across your back. You had never felt so at home in someone’s arms before and in that moment you knew you were safe.

5 months later you were stood on the pitch in Turin with a champions league trophy being held up by both yourself and Patri. “Okay smile bebé, we need a good one for later and I know how funny you are about these things.” You looked her way to complain about her calling you out and your favourite photo in this world was taken.

That evening a picture posted by both of you, containing Patri, head back laughing and you rolling your eyes over a champions league trophy at the aforementioned woman was posted.

The captions simply stated I will always love you.  

#patri guijarro x reader #patri guijarro imagine #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso x reader

[pepper-up-potion]

From lecture hall to Familly dinner (Remus Lupin x fem!reader)

Summary: so maybe you lied and told your grandmother you had a boyfriend, but in your defense you’re thirty some and tired of unsuccessful dates.

Warnings: nothing really??? Mention of family but like it’s all good stuff. I didn’t proof read, sorry in advance. Might be good to mention both reader and Remus are uni profs.

Word count: 2.1k

A/n: so I just read a book with a fake dating in a academia setting and it was just so yummy (the concept, not the book) to me that I wanted to do something in academia. Be it know, I don’t know much of the world of academia so this could all be bogus.

“Alright that’s everything, I’ll see you all Thursday morning.” You announce to the students of your women in literature coure. It’s your favourite course to teach. Books like Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion, Frankenstein, Withering Heights are the exact reason why you chose to become an English professor.

You gather your notes and pack your things, lingering in case a student has any questions they’d like to address privately with you. When all the students leave you head to the faculty lounge to fuel up on the crappy coffee.

You sigh in relief when you find no one in the lounge. You like to have some time by yourself after a lecture. Normally you take out your planner and make sure you have everything ready for your next lecture. You start the old coffee machine in the corner of the room. Normally it makes more of a thick coffee flavoured sludge but you just add lots of milk and try not to think much about it.

As you start the pot you hear the buzzing of your phone. You cross the room and look at the Caller ID to find your grandmother is the one calling.

“Hi grandma! To what do I owe the honour of a call from you?” You ask teasingly. Your grandmother hates cellphones and avoids using them at all costs. Normally you’re the one to call her and you spend the first ten minutes of the call listening to her rant about how terrible technology is.

“I don’t want to talk on this stupid phone for long. I hate these things, I tell you. Whatever happened to simple landlines? I want mine back.” She grumbles.

You roll your eyes but a smile tugs to your lips. There’s something so entertaining about how hard set she is on her hatetrid for technology.

“I told you grandma, this is much cheeper than a landline. Landlines are a thing of the past, you’ve got to get with the times now.” You tease her.

“I am a thing from the past!” She exclaims on the other line. You laugh in response.

“Listen now, I am calling you because I am coming to visit you this weekend and I’d like us to go to a nice restaurant so I can finally meet that nice boy you’ve been telling me about.” She explains, finally announcing the reason for her call.

Panic runs through you, you sit in the nearest chair, trying to think of an answer.

“I’m afraid he’ll be out of town this weekend.” You say trying to sound disappointed.

“Well just tell me when he’s available and I’ll come then.”

You purse your lips and shut your eyes. Your grandmother is stubborn. You’d know, it runs in the family. That means there is absolutely no way to get out of this.

“Alright grandma, I tell you what, I’ll talk to him and get back in touch with you with some dates.” You nibble on your lip nervously before adding, “I’m sure it’ll be sooner rather than later, he can’t wait to meet you.”

Your grandmother coos, pleased with your answer. “Alright, you get back to me.”

You chat with her for a few more minutes, updating each other on your lives before you hang up with a final promise to plan a dinner soon.

You slide your phone across the table and plop your head into your hands with a large sigh.

“You alright?” Asks a concerned voice near the entrance of the lounge.

You look up, startled out of your thoughts. A smile pulls at your lips when you see who it is. Remus Lupin. The professor famously know for his mythical creatures in English literature class. He’s probably your favourite member of the faculty. He’s funny, smart and actually interesting. Some profs just talk and talk for the sake of talking, obsessed with the sound of their voice but, Remus? Remus speaks only when necessary, and when he does, it comes from the heart.

“I’m fine.” You tell him as he walks over to the coffee pot. “I just got off the phone with my grandmother, she wants me to plan a time she can meet my boyfriend.” You tell him. Remus and you often speak about your personal lives, so this is nothing out of the ordinary.

He points to the coffee pot, “This ready?”

“Should be, serve yourself if it is.” You lean back in your seat.

“Since when do you have a boyfriend?” He asks while filling two mugs with coffee sludge.

“Ah well that’s the problem, I don’t. I just told her I did because I was tired of her trying to set me up with accountants.” Remus laughs as he pours milk into one of the mugs. “Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against accountants, they just don’t often have the same level of interest in English literature as I do.” You add.

Remus walks over to your table, setting down the mug with milk in front of you before pulling up a chair. He takes a sip of his coffee, “So what are you going to do?”

You wrap your hands around the mug, letting the heat warm your fingers. “No idea.” You sigh. “I thought I’d have found someone by the time she’d want to meet him. Isn’t it normal to wait years before introducing your partner to your family? I thought that’s how things worked at our age.” You mumble, a little disappointed. “Guess I’ll have to find someone, and it’ll have to be real soon.” You take a large gulp of coffee.

“I’ll be your boyfriend for a night.” Remus offers with a shrug. You almost cough up your coffee.

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask, wide eyed.

“Well that way you don’t have to stress about finding someone, your grandmother will be happy and I’ll get a free meal.” He arches an eyebrow “You would pay for my meal right?”

You laugh. “Yeah I’ll wine and dine you, don’t worry.”

***

“Grandma, this is Remus, Remus this is my grandmother Mabel.” You introduce them upon Remus’ arrival at the restaurant.

“Mabel, it’s wonderful to finally meet you, y/n speaks very highly of you.” He puts out his hand for your grandmother to shake.

“Funny you should say that, she speaks very highly of you too.” Your grandmother replies, shaking his hand.

“Sorry I’m a little late, my lecture finishes at seven but a student had a few questions for me after class.” He explains as he slides into the seat next to you.

“Hi.” He whispers, grabbing your hand on the table and squeezing it gently.

“How was your lecture?” You ask him curiously. You love listening to him talk about his classes, he’s always so passionate.

He talks about his lecture and your grandmother asks about his other courses and the conversation flows from there, Remus smoothly discussing different topics with the two of you.

By the end of the dinner you sigh, relieved that your grandmother only shared two embarrassing childhood stories, something that’d you’d consider low for her.

You live in a one bedroom appartement, so your grandmother had to book a hotel room for her visit. Before dinner, you had met her at the hotel and together you had taken a taxi to get to the restaurant. Remus offers to drive you back instead of you calling another cab. You graciously accept the offer, looking forward to the chance of spending more time with him.

He first drops off your grandmother who forces him to get out of the car and give him a hug.

“Thanks for doing this tonight.” You tell him once he’s back in the car and starts to drive you home. “You’re a lot of fun outside of work.”

He turns to you, a small grin on his lips. “Do you mean to say I’m a boring academic professor at work?” You can hear the tease in his voice.

“Indeed.” You hum. “Excessively boring. Thank goodness I don’t have to take any of your classes, it’d be impossible for me to stay awake” You dramatically slump in your seat pretending to fall asleep.

Remus laughs, a full and loud laugh. You feel your heart beat race, as pride surges in you at the thought that you caused such a beautiful sound.

“It was fun.” He nods. “You’re much more playful outside of work. I’ve never seen you tease someone as much as you tease your grandmother.” He chuckles a little.

“Left here.” You instruct him. “I’m impressed, you could actually keep up with us.”

Remus takes a left onto a more private street. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” He tells you, puffing his chest. You laugh harder than probably necessary.

“I find books help with that. I used to be shy when I was little but the more I read the more I felt comfortable in social settings. It’s like it gave me ideas on how to act and what to say.” You admit, feeling comfortable.

“I could see that.” He nodded seriously. “I think books made me serious. I was a bit of a troublemaker back in the day. My parents would by me dozens of books to keep me in my room instead of going out at night.” He told you.

“Remus Lupin, troublemaker?” You turn in your seat, facing him. “No.” You gasp, purely shocked. You point to the right, signalling him to turn on the upcoming street.

“Believe it or not, I once got six detentions in one week.” He turns onto the street.

“It’s the appartement complex on the right.” You instruct him. “You got one for every school day of the week and then felt even that wasn’t enough so you simply had to get another?”

“I think I was okay with one of every day of the week, it’s my friend Sirius who dragged me into the sixth one. He talked me into pulling a prank on this real nasty kid, he was kind of a bully.” He turned into the parking lot of your appartement complex and found a free spot, putting his car into park. “Sirius told me that he knock some books out of this one girls hands and kicked them in different directions across the hall and said some really bad stuff as she gathered them up again. Something about that just really got under my skin.” Remus clenched his jaw, evidently still angry.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” You fond yourself asking before even thinking.

Remus’ head snapped towards you, a look of shock on his face.

“I’m sorry, I just-, I feel like there’s so much more to talk about.” you looked down at your hands, feeling like a teenager again “I just don’t really want this night to end yet.” You confess, a little embarrassed.

Remus is quiet for a moment, you look at him anxiously. “I’d love to..” His smile is so bright, you feel dizzy.

You guide Remus up to your appartement as he tells you about the prank he and Sirius pulled.

Once in your apartment you make a pot of coffee.

“I promise this one’s better than our faculty lounge coffee.” You assure him as you hand him a mug.

“I think I’ve grow attached to the sludgy mixture.” He takes a sip of the coffee. “On second thought, this is much, much better.” He smiles graciously at you.

There goes your heart again, beating fast. You feel a warmth sprinkle your cheeks.

The clock strikes midnight after hours of talking excitedly about different topics (the coffee may have influenced the level of excitation).

You sigh, letting your head rest on Remus’ shoulder. Remus wraps an arm around you pulling you into his chest.

“I really like you. I’ve been meaning to ask you out for a long time now but I was worried you’d see it as inappropriate.” Remus confesses, face pressed against your hair.

You sit up to look at him, wide smile on your face. “No way. I’ve been meaning to ask you out for the longest time but I thought you’d see it as inappropriate.” You laugh a little, Remus follows suit. He places a hand to your cheek, stroking it slowly with his thumb.

“I’ve also been meaning to ask if I can kiss you all night but I’m not sure that fits in the criteria of ‘fake boyfriend’.” He tells you, a little smirk on his face.

You fake a face deep in thought, even putting a finger to your chin. “No i think it’s one of the expected criteria actually.” You taunt him.

“Really?” He chirps, leaning forward, looking at your lips.

“Really.” You tell him a second before your lips meet.

You spend the rest of the night kissing lazily, feeling like a giddy teen being kissed for the first time.

You eventually fall asleep in Remus’ lap as he tells you an old mythical folklore story his mom used to tell him before bed.

Who knew your grandmother would for once succeed at matchmaking (only this time she did unconsciously. Maybe that was the secret ingredient).

#remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus x y/n

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello Steph 😊 Do you have any BAMF Molly or just some good fics that feature Molly? I need some Molly love at the moment because I just read a fic where she "turns to the drak side" so to speak, and my heart 😭😭😭

Hey Nonny!

Ah I did a few comm. recs lists recently with Molly, but here are what I can offer you from memory, LOL. PLEASE add your fave Molly fics, guys! PLEASE NOTE these are fics I’ve read, and please check the sub-headings for a TONNE of stuff I haven’t read!! Big title so I can find it later LOL.

MOLLY PLAYS A ROLE

See also:

COMM RECS: Coming Out To Molly

COMM RECS: Molly with Women

COMM RECS: Molly and Greg Push John and Sherlock Together

COMM RECS: Molly as a Villain

Santa Knows by Itsallfine (T, 1,719 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Party, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Matchmaking, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock and John both get exactly what they want from the Yard's secret Santa exchange. Pure holiday fluff.

What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.

Thirty Three Hours Without John Watson by Bookaholic, mybrotherharry (M, 6,232 w. || First Kiss / Time, Pining Idiots, BG Mystrade, Crackish) – Sherlock can SO TOTALLY survive without John Watson. It should be a piece of cake. AKA the time when Sherlock braved grocery store lines for milk, purchased and gave away a box of tampons and figured out what the X-Factor is. Greg and Mycroft didn’t sign up for this shit. Next time, they are going to the Bahamas.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein (T, 31,987 w., 11 Ch. || College/Uni AU || Professor John, Ph.D Student Sherlock, Pining John, Poetry, Falling in Love / Slow Burn, Light Angst, Happy Ending) – John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

The Wrong Wagon by DancingGrimm (E, 35,663 w., 20 Ch. || Alternating POV, Molly/  John [Molly pines for John], Public Sex, Casual Sex, Obliviousness, BAMF!John, Awkwardness, Angst & Humour, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) – Molly sees John in a new light and realises that she may have hitched her horse to the wrong wagon...or something like that. John pines for Sherlock and worries what he will think if he ever finds out. And Sherlock doesn't know what Molly's up to...but he knows he doesn't like it.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w., 15 Ch. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w., 15 Ch. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief...

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Stars Move Still by BeautifulFiction (E, 96,022 w., 5 Ch. || Magical Realism, Demons, Slash to Pre-Slash, AU, Happy Ending, Souls) – "What could I want so desperately that would make me sell my soul? What could possibly compel me to surrender the part of myself that makes me who I am: the source of my magic, my self-control, everything?”

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles, Girl’s Night, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, Drunk Sherlock, Background Mollstrade, Hair Petting, Laying on Lap) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w., 215 Ch. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w., 13 Ch. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #molly fics #molly plays a role #my fic recs #Anonymous #long post

[the-himawari]

A3! 4th Anniversary Book [AIR] Translation - Q&A

This is the familiar Q&A project from the Anniversary Book series!

We asked about interesting points from the main and backstage stories.

*Please read disclaimer on blog

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Q: What kind of school is Fuyou University, which Masumi and Madoka attend?

A: It’s a famous, private university with a standard score of 70 or above. It has affiliated hospitals and schools, and it has a strong image of being attended by well-known and wealthy people. Incidentally, Tsumugi and Tasuku are uni alumni, and Kazunari attended the attached junior high.

Q: Please tell us about Tenma and Hiro’s recent entertainment activities.

A: Tenma entered the top ranks of the popularity ranking in the youth category and his number of commercial jobs increased. As for Hiro, his offers from overseas began to increase, and he is currently training hard in English. It seems there are many voices calling out for a Tenma & Hiro tag-team, taking advantage of the opportunity from the Act-off and special drama where they co-starred together.

Q: Please tell us about the Japanese culture that’s mainstream in Zafra.

A: In addition to classic games, anime, and sushi, character mascots are also a famous genre. Rumour has it that a certain prince is preparing for a competition to create a mascot character for the king…

Q: Please tell us about the interactions between the first generation leaders and the new members, and also what changes they brought about that the dorm. A: It’s not that frequent, but it seems the adult group sometimes meets up and drinks together at Guy’s bar. Also, when they found out Syu was paying the dorm’s utility bills, some people began saving more than before, while on the other hand, some people were less reserved…

Q: What kind of shows can you watch at Zen’s show restaurant?

A: They’re mainly dance performances by dancers, but there are also magic shows and musical performances by jazz bands. He often pulls in many unknown, but excellent performers, and quite a few people have spread their wings from there.

Q: Please let us know how Azami feels after using the cosmetics he brought from Zafra.

A: “The eyeshadow was by far the best. The fine texture was soft, and most importantly, the pigmentation was top tier. There were lots of flashy colours, but I think there were also a bunch of subtle glitter and sheer shades that are surprisingly easy to use. I also feel like the primers ain’t bad. They’re rich in beauty treatment ingredients so they don’t damage your skin much and—(rest is omitted)”, is what he said.

Q: What type of work was “Robot Ranger” that Tasuku liked when he was young?

A: It is a science fiction work where the main character, who aims to be the best engineer in the universe, uses the transformation device he developed to fight against evil, extra-terrestrial monsters with his friends. Although it received high ratings from adults since the contents were quite elaborate, the amount of toys sold was somewhat lacking since children couldn’t keep up. It has a rather peculiar position within the series.

Q: Please tell us what kind of plays Syu usually performs?

A: Basically, the first part is a play, and the second part is a dance show. Many of the plays are historical plays based off of Kabukis. A singing show is also incorporated sometimes, so if you’re lucky, you might be able to hear Syu’s singing voice…?

Q: Please tell us if there were any settings that weren’t revealed for A7!, which was held for April Fool’s.

A: Actually, there are 4 animals: The hamster Kasumi, the cheetah Hiro, the black panther Zen, and the wolf Syu. They’re retired nowadays, so they rarely appear.

Q: Please tell us about the bar that Guy is running.

A: It’s still a shop that’s only well-know to those in the know, but it’s gaining popularity from office workers (both men and women) on their way home, as they feel soothed by Guy’s composed aura and slightly air-headed personality. Of course, the alcohol and food also have a good reputation.

Q: If Yuki and Kazunari have come up with nicknames for the first gen. leaders, please secretly let us know.

A: Kasumi was given the nicknames, “fairy tale uncle” and “Kasuminu” that he asked for himself. Kazunari seems to be thinking of nicknames for the other three but he says, “I’m still shrinking the distance between our hearts right now~”. Please anticipate Kazunari’s communication power.

Q: Stew was a standard on the menu for the first generation MANKAI Company, but what kind of stew did they have? Just like the current Company’s standard of curry, did they have a menu of different arrangements?

A: There were all kinds of stew like pumpkin stew, soymilk stew, corn stew, etc. that were served by Zen, but Yukio’s favourite was the classic cream stew. By the way, Yukio’s reaction when he said “stew” and was served beef stew is still a topic of conversation at drinking parties to this day.

Q: The number of Theatre members who have a driver’s license has increased, but has there been a change in their driving or shopping situations?

A: There hasn’t been a drastic change, but Banri gets called out to pick up and send his older sister, and Taichi seems to be steadily improving his driving skills by travelling to the neighbouring city’s supermarket sales during the evening when there’s not much traffic.

Q: The members held a training camp in Zafra as a cultural exchange, but please tell us if afterwards, there is a popular cultural trend, or Zafran words that the members use between them?

A: Zafran board games are still as popular as ever, and whenever a new product is released, they’re imported regularly and are highly sought after by the members. Also, since the Zafra training camp, seasonings made from kneading various chili peppers and spices with oil are popular too, and they are also sent over regularly from Zafra.

Q: The impression of Isuke when he just came to the dorm was told from Zen’s point-of-view, but please tell us about the first impression of Isuke from the other 3 leaders’ perspectives.

A: All of them unanimously thought, “he looks clumsy.”

---

#a3! #a3! translation #act! addict! actors!

[dwellordream]

“…There is a real belief on behalf of a not insignificant subset of society that the medieval Church was a shadowy organisation dedicated solely to suppressing knowledge and scientific advancement. This is not true.

The Church was in all actuality the medieval period’s largest benefactor of scholars of all stripes. Initially, in the early medieval period much learning was focused in monastaries in particular. Because monks took a vow to eschew idleness, they were always looking for new ways to work for the greater glory of God, or whatever. Sometimes this took the form of doing manual labour to feed themselves, but as monasteries such as Cluny rose to prominence they did more and more work in libraries as well.

Monks copied and embellished manuscripts and kept impressive libraries. Sometimes this work took place inside what we call “scriptoria” where more than one scribe is working at a time. They saw themselves as charged with transmitting knowledge. A lot of that knowledge was, of course, pagan, because they were extremely into classical thinkers. They were also reading this work of course, and writing their own commentaries on it. Many of them took the medical texts and used them to set up hospitals within their monasteries, as we have talked about before.

Lest you think this is all one big sausage fest, women were also very much about that book life within nunneries. They also had their own scriptoria and were busy scribbling away, reading, writing, and thinking. If you wanted a life where you strove for new scholarly heights, odds were that in the early medieval period you did that inside a monastery on nunnery.

As the medieval period moved on, scholarship eventually moved out of the cloister and into cities when the medieval university was established. The first degree awarding institution to call itself a university was the University of Bologna established around 1088, though teaching had been going on there previously and students had been going to Bologna from at least the late tenth century. Second was the University of Paris, which was established in 1150. Again teaching had been happening there from much earlier, and at least 1045.

Medieval universities weren’t like universities now, in that they didn’t have established campuses or anything like that. They were, more or less, a loose affiliation of scholars who would provide lessons to interested students. The University of Paris, for example, described itself as “a guild of teachers and scholars” (universitas magistrorum et scholarium).

In Paris there were four faculties: Arts, Medicine, Law, and Theology. Everyone had to attend the Arts school first where they would be asked to learn the trivium, which was comprised of rhetoric, logic, and grammar. Basically that meant all undergrads spent their time learning to argue, which is how the whole Abelard thing comes about. Then if they wanted more they could go do medicine, law, or theology. Theology was considered the really crazy good stuff, as medieval theologians were sorta held up in the way we worship astrophysicists like Neil de Grasse Tyson (ugh) or Stephen Hawking now. But if you wanna be a dick and super modern about it and think that nothing is more important than science, you will note that medicine is there and actively pursued.

So what, what does all of this have to do with the Church not being suppressive? Well literally everyone, both scholars and students in a medieval university was a member of the clergy. That’s right. Are you a Christian and you wanna learn about medicine? Well you need to take holy orders first. So every single scientific advancement that came out of a medieval university (and there were plenty) was made by a man of the cloth.

The quick among you might have spotted that the thing about unis is that they were just for dudes though, and that is lamentably true. Women weren’t able to take the same orders as men, which means they were excluded from university training. Plenty of them got tutored if they were rich. (See poor Heloise who just had Abelard, like, do himself at her.) Otherwise there was plenty of sweet stuff going on in nunneries still and always, as the visionary natural biologist Hildegard of Bingen can attest. Monasteries were also still producing good stuff as Thomas Aquinas would be happy to let you know from the comfort of his Dominican order.

Given that all of this is the case, it’s hard to square that circle of “the Church is intentionally suppressing knowledge!” with the fact that everyone actively working on acquiring and furthering knowledge was a member of it and all. The Church was a welcoming home to scholars because it was a place where you got the time needed to contemplate subjects for a long time. If you have your corporeal needs taken care of, then you can go on to think about stuff. The Church offered that.

Having said all of this, there were, of course, plenty of Jewish and Muslim scholars at work in medieval Europe as well. The thriving Jewish communities of the medieval period had their own complex theological discussions about the Talmud, and produced their own truly delightful sexual and scientific theory that I will never tire of reading.

I’ve also talked at length about how Islamic medical advances were very much taken on board by medieval Christians in Europe. The fact that the Christians in holy orders beavering away at the medical faculties of universities across Europe were very much looking to a Muslim guy called Ibn Sinna for medical knowledge makes it hard to see the Church as an oppressive hater of all things non-Catholic. I’m just saying.

What else is at play here? Meh, society writ large. A lot of us in the English as a first language speaking world, and in northern Europe more generally have been raised in a Protestant context even if we ourselves are not Protestant. The thing about that is Protestants, famously, is that they are not huge fans of the Church. Big news, I know. In the Early Modern period this could get kinda wild, with things like the Great Fire of London being blamed on a nefarious “Papish plot”, for example, becoming a nice early example of a conspiracy theory. (That conspiracy theory was still written in Latin at the based of The Monument built to commemorate the fire until 1830 when the Catholics were officially emancipated in Britain. LOL.)

When the whole Enlightenment thing went down, generalised distrust of Catholics was then later compounded by the fact that “serious” thinkers aka Voltaire’s ridiculously basic self began to categorise the accumulation of knowledge specifically in opposition to religious thought. This is the old “Age of Reason” which we currently allegedly reside in, versus the “Age of Faith” idea. The Church as an overarching institution from the age of faith was therefore thought of as necessarily regressive, and it became assumed that it has always been actively attempting to thwart advantage for vaguely sinister reasons that are never fully articulated.

…Now, plenty of people were killed for witchcraft because they were doing medicine. The witch trials were a very real thing, and you know when and where they happened? In the modern period, and usually with a greater regularity in Protestant places. Witchcraft trials peak in general from about 1560-1630 which is the modern period. The most famous trials with the biggest kill count took place in Trier, Fulda, Basque, Wurtzburg, Bamberg, North Berwick, Torsåker and Salem. You know what was going on in most of the places? The Reformation. Witch trials sort of reflected various confessions of Christianity’s ability to effectively protect their flocks from evil. Did Catholics kill “witches” oh you bet your sweet ass they did. So did Protestants, and it was all fucking ugly.

What is important to note is that in countries where Catholicism was static witch trials were largely unheard of. Ireland, the Iberian Peninsula, and Italy, for example, just didn’t go in for them even though they were theoretically in the clutches of a nefarious Church bent on destroying all medical knowledge or something.

Now, none of this is to excuse the multifarious sins of the institutional Church over the years. In many ways my entire career as a medieval historian is a product of the fact that I was frustrated with the Church after 16 years of Catholic school. If you had to go to a High School named after the prosecutor in the Galileo trial, you might also end up devoting yourself to picking intricate theological fights with the Church, OK? (Yes, this is my origin story.)

And that brings us to the crux of the matter: if you make up a bunch of stuff that the Church did not do it makes it harder to critique them of the manifold things they actually did do and are doing right fucking now. We need to be critiquing the Magdalene Laundries; the international cover up of pedophile priests; signing an actual concordant with Nazi Germany; the regressive attitudes towards abortion and contraception that happen still, now, and endanger the lives of countless women. All of this is real, and calls for the strongest possible condemnation.”

- Eleanor Janega, “JFC, calm down about the medieval Church.”

#medieval #religion #education

[upside-down-uni]

Hey! Idk if this is too much t9 ask, but could you rec me 2, 19, 20, 45, 55, 63, 69, 71, 72, 75, 86, 104, 111, 116, 131? sorry if it’s a lot but thanks in advance if u can rec me some! :)

Hi, you're in luck! I have an essay to procrastinate on and this ask is just the right thing to distract me! Here you go, I hope you'll find something that you like:

2. a book with a blue cover

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman. When i read it for the first time I was just on the brink of going to uni, still figuring out what I even wanted to study and this book just wrapped me in a warm blanket and said "it's going to be okay". I love the main characters Frances and Aled, their arcs and especially the really nice and quiet queer rep in this book.

19. a book that put you in a reading slump

The Knife Of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness. When I start a book I generally have the feeling that I can't put it away until I have finished it. With The Knife Of Never Letting Go my problem was that I did want to read it but it didn't fit my mood, so I couldn't bring myself to read it but also beat myself up about not reading it until I put it back onto my shelf. So, I basically pushed myself into a reading slump over this book.

21. a book with a red cover

Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers. I enjoyed this book so much but probably not for the reasons most people would think I enjoyed it? The wlw romance was definitely nice and I really liked them being dramatic but also kind of mundane? What really got me though was the strong theme of found family of young adults and queer friendships, that really yanked the yearning hours wide fucking open for me. (I also liked that in the end the book wasn't as much about romance as it was about finding yourself after surrendering yourself to academia for ages and working through your issues.)

45. a book featuring the friends to lovers trope

The Priory Of The Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon. I adore this book. It's so long and there's so much incredible world building and history in it that it made reading an untter delight! Coming in it was a bit hard to acclimate to the slow paste but after a while I just settled in and enjoyed the ride. It's a breathtaking story in a breathtaking universe and afaik there's a second part coming!

55. a book with a satisfying ending

Yolk by Mary H. K. Choi. Yolk doesn't really have an ending in the sense of a "happily ever after" but I really loved where the author chose to leave the characters and how she did it. The book is quite different from what I usually read, tonewise, but especially that ending made me leave the book with a warm feeling. (also the cover is yellow and really really gorgeous)

63. a book that actually made you laugh out loud

I would've reccd Red White and Royal Blue but judging by your url you've read that already...sooooo, it's Snapdragon by Kat Leyh! Super cute graphic novel, with a weird and adorable storyline and such lovable characters!

69. your favorite mythological retelling

I haven't read a mythological retelling in ages, so basic Percy Jackson by Rick Riordan will have to do.

71. your favorite LGBTQ+ fiction

now that's just rude how am I supposed to choose?? I'll say it's Every Heart A Doorway by Seanan McGuire and Gideon The Ninth by Tamsyn Muir and Loveless by Alice Oseman. I feel very strongly and very distinctly about all of them, if you can get your hands on them my only comment is READ. (and maybe make sure you're okay with gothic sci-fi horror for Gideon The Ninth)

72. a book with a gorgeous cover

Plain Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth. It's her adult gothic horror debut after The Miseducation of Cameron Post and not only is the hardcover just stunning in black and red, it also got illustrations inside!! (And all teh women are queer and it's deliciously fucked up!)

75 a book featuring the I'm not like other girls trope

I think the closest I can come to that is The Lady's Guide To Piracy and Petticoats by Mackenzi Lee. The main character has to unlearn a bunch of stuff really fast if she wants to get along with the only other people that will help her. We have road trips in the 16th century, kidnapping and asshole husbands to be, piracy of course and friendship!

86. a book with an insane plot twist

Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand. Sawkill Girls was my first touch with horror and I have to say I have no idea whether there was heavy foreshadowing. I think I remember thinking that there was something else to come but when the shit hit the fan I just sat there with big questionmarks over my head because I had read the book in a frenzy in one evening and truly did NOT anticipate it. As someone who did not read horror or thriller before this I have to say I was already insanely confused and disgusted by a bunch of stuff that went down. But then...uh. the thing happened and I was just lost. (In a good way though.)

104. a fluffy sweet read

Let's Talk About Love by Claire Kann. It's been a while ever since I read it but it's essentially a cute summer story about Alice who's a disaster bisexual when she sees people she finds cute. Which is a little inconvenient because the new guy at her job is really, really, really extremely cute and she ceases to function around him. There's best friend drama, eating pizza iirc and figuring shit out!

111. a book writing a book

I assume it's either "a book about writing a book" or I am literally supposed to rec a book that is writing a book...I'm going to rec a book that is about books! (because I can.) It's The Girl Who Reads on the Métro by Christine Féret-Fleury and it follows a young woman called Juliette wo gets sucked into an old bookseller's world of life saving, life changing books. A really quiet, really cute book.

116. a book with multiple povs

the Reckless books by Cornelia Funke! Simply divine stroytelling, a vibrant world and amazing characters! I have to say that I only know the German original so I don't know what the English translation might be like.

131. recommend any book you like

um. so knife gang members and people who follow my main, you'll once again be subjected to me being a mess because of lesbian necromancers in space! I've mentioned it before, it lives in my head rent free, it is the one, the only Gideon The Ninth by Tamsyn Muir! It's an insane sci-fi horror fantasy blend where Gideon has to play cavalier to Reverend Daughter Harrowhark I-love-being- an-absolute-pain-in-the-ass-to-Gideon Nonagesimus to help her become an uber-necromancer (like Harrow needs motivation to become even more of a nerd and shockingly good at necromancy) for the Necrolord Prime/Undying Emperor. There's BEAUTIFUL WRITING sprinkled with MEMES when you least expect it. There is incredible toxic codependency and repression. There's MURDER. There's fancy necromancy theorems and DUELS. There's enemies to begrudging allies to ??? Staple your socks to your feet or this book will blow them clean off!

#book rec asks #mo answers #thanks for asking! #idk when you sent this ask but it popped up in my inbox just today so here you go!

[rosy-cheekx]

Hypothetically

 @aspecarchivesweek Day One: Wish

I wish to make you happy.

Jonathan Sims/Georgie Barker

This was it. Jon fiddles with the pale green collar of his shirt; eyes focused resolutely on the version of himself in the mirror that hung on the wardrobe in his student flat. Tonight’s the night I’m going to ask Georgie to…

He shakes his head to himself, wincing at the end of that sentence. He knows what he’s going to do tonight, what he wants to do tonight, what difference does vocalizing it make, even if it’s just to himself?

Glancing down at his watch, Jon chews his lip. He was meeting Georgie at the bar in thirty minutes. The bar was ten minutes away…He should probably leave now, right? In case he needed to find them seats or use the loo or if the walk ended up taking longer than the dozens of times he’s been there before? He doesn’t want to be late, that would just make everything worse-

Huh. He’s pacing. Jon forces himself to stop and stands in the middle of his bedroom, wrapping his hands around his sides, thumbs digging into his back, feeling his diaphragm push his ribs out and in as he breathes, focusing on the solid movement of his body. Why am I so nervous? His therapist had talked to him, years back, about identifying sources of his anxiety. He hates that it works, hates that it means confronting his own brain and acknowledging his faults.

Is it the bar? No. This bar, The Addison, is one of the few pubs Jon actually enjoys. It’s always got a bit of a draft so even in the busiest nights it never feels like the heat of the room is inescapable. Jon’s not the biggest fan of beer, per se, but he can knock back a pint with the best of them, so long as he has something in his stomach first, and the pretzels and beer cheese The Addison makes are his favorite. The thought of them make his stomach growl.

Is it Georgie? No. He has a lot of strong feelings for Georgie, feels comfortable being himself around her. He drops his stuffy academic persona and can be his regular, less-stuffy-but-still-academic self, the one who speaks to her flatmate’s cat in a higher-pitched voice but still with proper Queen’s English, because “they deserve to be treated with respect, don’t you Madame?” She cares about him, too, he knows that, and he’s enjoyed their months as friends and the past few weeks they’ve been a couple.

As a couple…He feels a twinge of anxiety in his chest that makes him flap his hands instinctively, a quick stim to ward off the impending doom building in his belly. Ah. Found it. He and Georgie have only gone on a few dates: a coffeeshop on a Saturday morning, and a movie night in Georgie’s flat, an evening which had been planned to be a movie marathon of Georgie’s favorite bad horror movies, the B and C rated films that were truly just a vehicle for half-naked women sprinting down alleyways and gratuitous fake blood effects. Any excuse for them to laugh over popcorn and predict the plot points, except Jon had fallen asleep partway through the second movie and had woken up the next morning on Georgie’s couch, a worn fleece blanket over his slumped form. But this? This was a proper night-time date, involving alcohol and a walk home and, Jon was sure, a “mind if I come in?” and it would be different because it wasn’t a friend he was talking to, it was his girlfriend and there were expectations and he was a virgin and didn’t want to disappoint her because he knows Georgie is experienced and she deserves to have a good time and it’s his responsibility as a boyfriend to do that, even if he’s terrified because he hasn’t before—

Woah. Jon takes a deep breath. That was a lot. He did a full Sims, as Georgie would say, letting things snowball in his head until he explodes. He closes his eyes, wringing his hands again, just a gentle flutter at his sides. It’ll be fine. She’ll understand. She has up to now. Georgie has understood his weird studying habits, his deep aversion to spiders, his need to be early everywhere, his sudden shutdowns and stimming habits and how he loves to be held and touched. She can certainly handle him being a nervous virgin.

Jon slips a condom in his wallet and then, hesitating, tears off two more and throws them in. In case he messes up the first time. Checking his watch, he sees its quarter to eight. If he leaves now he’ll only be five minutes early. Perfect.

--

The Addison is a healthy dose of busy on a Thursday night in late autumn, the hum of conversation and music floating over Jon is just the right amount of chaos for him to reach equilibrium, feeling enthused by his nervous energy. He’s sitting at the bartop, spinning the cap to his beer bottle, watching it whirl, whirl, whirl, clattering on the stained wood and spinning all the while. It’s entrancing.

Georgie is speaking to him now. She smiles warmly at him and feels his stomach flip. God, she’s gorgeous when she smiles. Her hair’s in braids this month, pink and orange weaved tightly together, contrasting with the tight black turtleneck dress she wears. He catches himself staring at her profile, the planes of her face animated as she tells him a story about her professor and his alleged vow to fail her this semester. His face is warm. See, he soothes himself, you are attracted to her. You’re just nervous.

“Jon. Jon?” Georgie’s eyebrow is quirked up and she’s smirking at him, like she’s caught him in a lie. “Everything alright? You’re staring.” Jon feels another rush of blood to his cheeks, prickling at how exposed he feels to have been caught up in his thoughts about her.

“Oh-uh, yeah,” he nods, hesitating before reforming his own features into a smile. “I-I was just thinking. Well. How nice you look tonight.” Georgie isn’t immune to compliments, he knows this for certain, and its reaffirmed as she ducks her own head briefly, smile shifting from teasing to soft.

“O-Oh. Thank you, Jon.” She sips her drink, preferring something a little harder than Jon’s beer, usually a vodka cranberry she can nurse throughout a night or throw back when she needs a little something more in her bloodstream, fogging her mind. “You look really nice too, you know. Your green shirt is my favorite.” She gestures to the button up and he nods absently, glancing down at it. When he looks up, her face is close to his, hand weaving into the curls by his ear. He sighs and leans into the touch, feeling a shiver run through him when they kiss. He tastes the cranberry on her lips, vodka on her tongue, her liquid courage enthusing him as well as her (not that she needs any excuse to be bold, really), and makes a choice.

When they pull away for air, he grins wildly at her, the face he makes when he knows he’s about to a very Not-Sims thing. When the bartender makes his rounds again, a pale man in a black button-down, Jon orders his own ruby-red drink. Georgie’s eyebrows meet her hairline as he does so, folding her hands together. “Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan Sims?” The chuckle behind her voice balances the sternness of her words. He just grins at her and takes a sip of his newly-acquired vodka and cranberry juice, the dry flavors curling on his tongue and making his head feel light and warm after even half the glass.  

-

Jon is drunk. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. He knows he’s a lightweight and even the divine soft pretzels he’s been munching on since his arrival can only handle so much. He’s finished his second hard drink on top of the beer and is feeling properly light and airy. Like a cake, he giggles to himself. He’s having fun, chatting with Georgie about life and cats and uni and their plans for the future. Jon’s entertaining a couple of options, a few research jobs in London, and Georgie is poking his side, making him laugh as she teases him about his studying skills being useful for something more than exams.

“At least I have studying skills!” He says, pushing her off his side, linking their fingers together to inhibit her from poking him again. “You can’t ride my coattails forever, you know.”

“I won’t have to! It came in today.”

“What did?” His thoughts are clouded, edges of anxiety smoothed over into something more ignorable.

“My microphone! So I can start my podcast about spooky shit, remember?” Georgie squeezes his hand and finishes her own drink, far along as Jon in liquid consumed but not nearly as affected as he is. “I’m going to uncover the world’s mysteries and teach my faithful audience about the supernatural. I’ve got the title nailed down, too.” With her free hand she paints a banner in the air. “What the Ghost. ‘Cause it’s like ‘what the fuck’ and I can talk about all sorts of weird shit.” Georgie swears a lot, and more when she’s tipsy.

“Can I see it?” The words are out of his mouth before he can think them through. “The-the microphone, can I see it?”

Her eyes widen and she nods, “Oh, yeah of course! I haven’t been able to test it out yet, so maybe you can help me.”

Jon insists on paying. So does Georgie. They resign to splitting it, each vowing to pay next time and knowing they will never outsmart each other.

-

Jon doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he’s walking the five minutes to Georgie’s flat. Tucked into her side, the air is cool around his face, the wind an icy hand cupping his cheek. Everything feels smeary, liquid, warm. Hands in the pocket of the peacoat he knows he bought for the aesthetic and not to keep him warm, he fingers his wallet, feels the circular outline inside, and feels…nothing. Good. He can do this.

He’s always loved Georgie’s flat. It is warm, all orange and yellow lamplight, houseplants, and a cosy cluttered look. Her roommate exists only in residuals, the sneakers she leaves by the door and the dishes she does at odd hours more proof she exists than anything like conversation. Jon respects that. Georgie’s room is a lot like the rest of the flat, which means it’s a lot like Georgie herself. Warm, dark, soft, and scattered, with hidden elements of cat hair no matter how many times she cleans. Jon throws his coat over his desk chair and collapses onto her bed, reveling in how her pillows feel under his back. He takes a moment to greet the weird smile-faced stain on her ceiling before sitting up, watching Georgie fold herself next to him and open a carboard box, taking out a chunky black microphone with a USB cable. She brandishes it like a sword, before angling it to her face.

“This is BBC 4 with breaking news,” she intones into the microphone, putting on a crisp RP accent and lowering her voice an octave. “Ghosts and ghouls have been discovered at King’s College, Oxford, residing as university professors. News anchor Jonathan Sims has the story. Sims?”

Jon presses back his giggles and leans into the character, accent already pretty close to the posh voice she puts on. “There’s been an error, actually. They’ve been the students all along. Journalism student Porgie Parker has been found out to have been a ghost. These discoveries were made after her boyfriend, English Literature student…Bonathan Bims, realized she had never picked up a textbook because she couldn’t! Her hands went right through them!” By the time he’s gotten to the word textbook, Georgie has pounced on him, microphone forgotten as she wrestles him to the bed, alternating between poking and tickling him until he lets the bit trail off, voice a mix of giggles and pleas for her to stop.

When she lets off, Jon abruptly realizes the intimacy of their position. She’s straddling him, her hands pinning his wrists to the plush pillow behind his head. They’re both breathing hard, cheeks flushed, and smiling.

Jon isn’t sure who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. His arms are wrapped around Georgie’s neck and her hands are cupping his face, cool to the touch, nails lightly scratching his jawline. The bed is soft and Georgie is warm, pressing in from all sides, and it feels good. This he likes.

She kisses along his jawline and he feels heart rate pickup, flexing his hands (when did he curl them into fists?) as she presses against his neck. He wishes vaguely she’d put her hands back in his hair, he likes that soft feeling of pressure on his scalp. The smile on the ceiling is smirking at him now, the curve of the water stain looking more vicious than it had earlier.

Her hands are on his chest, she’s unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands feel too cold now, the shiver running through him one of anxiety, not desire, and Jon is sitting up before he knows what he’s doing. Fuck. Georgie, the saint, backs off him and kneels beside him on the bed. Jon’s hands flit to the undone buttons, fingertips circling them, suddenly unsure what to do.

“Are you okay, Jon?” Georgie’s voice is softer, eyes searching his face as she wedges her hands underneath her knees. He watches her wrists, the swing of her braids as she cocks her head, anything to avoid her eyes.

“I-” he gestures to her vaguely. “Y-You know I haven’t before, right?”

“Oh. Oh.” Georgie nods, understanding maybe a little better than he expected. “No offense, but I kinda figured, Jon. Not in a bad way!” She backpedals. “I just figured, you know, there’s no rush.”

“I mean, there’s a little of a rush,” he admonishes under his breath. At her hum of confusion: “You know, the whole-” he gestures again, as if he could pluck the word from the air. “-third date…thing.”

“Jon,” Georgie sighs his name, voice soft and so patient, a voice he doesn’t think he’s heard used anywhere else. “There’s no rule saying what we have to do when. Or how. Or ever, for that matter. It’s no one’s business what we do except ours.” She reaches out a hand, waiting for a slight nod, before taking his thin hands in her own. “Is that why you drank more than usual today?”

Jon nods, feeling a sag of relief spread throughout his body. “I just- I want to make you happy.”

“You do make me happy, you twit. That’s why we’re friends and it’s why I’m dating you.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t need sex to be happy. Is it fun? Yes. But not necessary.”

Jon frowns, chewing on his lip and eyeing the window of her bedroom, tracing the rectangle with his eyes over and over again. “I-hmm.” Georgie watches him search for words; she knows how he ticks well enough to know they’re coming if she waits. “What if, hypothetically, I never had sex with you? Ever.”

“Well,” she gave his hands a light squeeze. “Hypothetically, I’d be totally okay with it, though I’d ask if you were asexual and make sure we had appropriate boundaries.”

“Huh?” The word draws him back to her face, the deep brown eyes that search his own. “Asexual. Like, no sex?” She nods, again, ever-patient. “Huh. Asexual.” He drops the pretense. “Maybe.”

Asexual. The word felt good as he rolled it around in his mouth. He traced the letters with his fingertips in cursive against his thigh as Georgie let go of him, rolling off her bed to pull on sweatpants and a t shirt instead of the dress she was wearing 

“Let’s look into it, if you want. Together.” Georgie grins at him now, rye and warm. “I will have to ask you if want hypothetical crisps, because I’m hypothetically fucking starving.”

#aspec archive week #jonathan sims #Georgie barker #cw alcohol #cw internalized acephobia #/confusion #just some good confusing feelings #based on my own experiences? said who? #also! important note: Jon's stims are reflective of my own habits #just sayin #asexuality #ace #ace flavor: who knows? not even Jon

[orbitguideofficial]

Lviv national medical university Ukraine – Orbit Guide

ABOUT THE UNIVERSITY

Ukraine has a number of stunning urban areas, including Kyiv, Sumy, Lviv and the town. Lviv is among the top universities in the chronicled urban regions that are situated in the western part of. City focus has stunning historical buildings with all-around preserved structures that date back to the past 400 years. Because of the western large portion of the temperature remains moderate, making Lviv an extremely comfortable place for Indian students to experience MBBS on the ground.

The foundation was founded in 1784. Lviv National Medical University was established in 1784. It could be an open steerage foundation that is situated within the city of medium size Lviv (populace vary between up to 5,000-1,000,000 residents), Lviv Oblast. It is officially recognized, or at least considered to be recognized by authorities from the Ministry of Health of land, Lviv National Medical University (LNMU) is an unimportant (uni rank duty tour 5 to 999 students) co-ed foundation for steerage. Students studying MBBS at Lviv National Medical University (LNMU) provides courses and is with transferable steerage qualifications like four-year certificates across various areas of study.

Look up the degree levels of unit rank and study territories grid on a lower level to learn more about the details. This 234 years old advanced education foundation has the aforementioned confirmation arrangements that are backed by selection tests.

Indian students studying at Lviv National Medical University

DanyloHalytsky Lviv National Medical University (LNMU) is among everything that is related to the most experienced and biggest educational foundations for therapeutics in a country that has the dimension IV of liberation.

One of the simplest MBBS programs on the market that is also with MCI and the international workplace.

It's the primary developed physical foundation, with a hefty field with ethereal classification rooms fully equipped to investigate the center and distinct assistance administrations.

The categories outlined within this faculty unit are 100 100% and are in English medium.

It's one of the few in everything that concerns a few faculties that are in a country with the strict No Donation policy.

It has a smart structure of charges, specifically for students from all over the world who hope to be experts.

There are separate hostels for ladies and young men can be found there.

About Hostel

It is the Lviv National Medical University offers separate lodgings for young males and women. Inns. are located in the sphere near the most instructive structures. There are eight hostels, each of them are equipped with all the basic amenities such as a bed and AC, wi-fi access to, tables for judging and closets. There is also a heated structure that is situated in large accommodation facilities to provide the best comfort for the students. Web club, room food, bottle and an athletic workplace comprise several of the opposite workplaces at Lviv National Medical University. Lviv National Medical University lodgings.

The hostel at the college isn't exclusively for Indian students, but the students who attend from there are spread across the globe. The students are from the European nation, Arab, Germany. The school has provided an additional hostel for students from other countries.

The structure's fundamental features are in inverse relation to the school's construction the hostel, which houses an assortment of reasonably indoor work spaces. Our director has been to Lviv National Medical University commonly mostly to see whether the students are progressing well or not.

Eligibility Criteria

No entrance exam such as IELTS and GMAT will be required to gain admission to Lviv National Medical University for MBBS in the country. The admission procedure is amazingly simple and the World Medical Foundation will facilitate you enter the general strategy.

The total fees for personnel at Lviv National Medical University is affordable and suitable for Indian students.

The world and country ranking for Lviv National Medical University is inconceivably high.

Cost of living is also a wise decision in the country.

Nearly four thousand Indian students are enrolled through the discovery of MBBS in the nation.

The method of steerage is English to find MBBS located in Lviv.

Click here for more information about MBBS ABROAD.

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