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yanderechuu · 3 years

Text

Short-winded

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[3K]

Summary: You are being forced out of your shell by your classmates, but now it seems more for their on benefit than that of your own.

Warning: anxiety, stalking

│

For someone who resented public attention, it came with shock when you announced you had wanted to become a hero.

You were the definition of social anxiety, often finding solace within the four corners of your room, and if not, then the kitchen of your house would do. So the worst form of betrayal your guardian could ever do to you was to send you off to U.A. dorms, practically miles away from the comfort of your own home. In the worst attempt to guilt-trip them, you claimed they were disowning you; still, they were adamant of the opportunity that you’d ease on socializing.

What you didn’t know was that your guardian had warned your homeroom teacher of your current ‘predicament’ (they’d call it a predicament; you’d call it your own nature), and requested if possible that you’d be compelled to engage in social interaction until you were comfortable with it. Aizawa agreed, seeing to it that if your own guardian personally addressed it to him, then it must really be a matter not to be taken lightly of. He had seen your tendencies, too - like when you would be called out for recitation, always having the answer at the tip of your tongue, wanting to roll it out so you could sit down. In the end, you would never find the courage to respond, and your classmates would assume that you didn’t know the answer to the question, while only you and your teacher would know otherwise. You were silent about your opinions during group hero training, only ever abiding whatever your classmates’ plans were, despite the little hiccups and uncertainties you would recognize in secret (but they were rare, anyway, as most of the time you only heeded those of Bakugou’s or Midoriya’s or Yaoyorozu’s).

Only when your guardian had approached him did Aizawa come to realize that, oh, he had never really heard you speak. Now that he thought about it, what did your voice sound like? The last time he heard it was when you had asked an incoherent query after homeroom lessons regarding hero laws. He had asked you to repeat it again, and again, and again, until when he had said, “sorry?” you bore this flushed, troubled look, raising your hands in front of you and waving them, exclaiming, “n-nothing, never mind. Sorry.”

He never understood what you were supposed to say, that was until he rectified the short essay quizzes held by the end of the period, where you got less than half percent correct. You had a different perspective of the hero law discussed, and Aizawa was willing to bet that your attempted question was about the lesson prior. Ever since then he took it as a habit to ask if you - specifically - had any questions regarding homeroom discussions. You would cower in embarrassment, knowing that the root of his habit came from when you had asked him something he couldn’t even hear, nevertheless you found it in yourself to respond by nodding. At least now you didn’t have to muster up the courage to approach him since he would approach you instead.

Anyway, it was already much apparent to him that you had a dilemma with your social life (if you ever even had one), and so he addressed this to the class once when you were called to the faculty to ‘discuss’ things with Present Mic, your English teacher (Aizawa just told him to keep you busy as he spoke to his class).

Most expressed their concern, especially when he said that this could affect your hero affiliation in times of inevitable joint cooperation or recruiting of sidekicks and whatnot. It was not necessarily their responsibility, Aizawa expounded, but if possible, then they should get you to interact with them as much. Mina was most resolved in getting to befriend someone like you, a little bit ahead of Izuku, who wanted to befriend you partly due to his curiosity of your quirk. The rest thought of this as a casual ordeal, and a few saw to it as a bothersome matter that could be handled by the social butterflies of the class.

Well.

Being approached by Izuku and his friends was the least of your expectations when recess began. Usually, you’d prepare your own lunch to prevent having to go to the crowded place, and eat in peace inside the classroom with Aoyama who normally paid you no mind. He would give you a cheese or two, but it was nothing that you couldn’t deal with. Besides, the cheese actually tasted delicious.

Izuku insisted you come with them to the cafeteria, and when you gave him only an anxious and weirded-out look, Uraraka saved you both from awkwardness by pushing you out of the classroom door - to which her touch you quivered at. In the corridors, Iida gave a lecture about how being with friends helped with your general health - you didn’t know whatever the hell he meant by that, because you weren’t even friends with them. Shoto kept giving you glances from time to time, and when you both met eyes, you were the first to break contact; he found himself smiling lightly in amusement. You ransacked your brain for excuses to avoid being around them, but before you knew it, you were urged to sit down on their usual table, where also Jirou, Momo, and Hagakure sat. You were on the corner of the table - across Izuku and beside Uraraka - overwhelmed and irate by the abrupt proceeding of things. This was coercion - they didn’t even ask if you were okay with it - and, quite frankly, a burst of your own personal bubble. You wanted out, but how could you, when you couldn’t even find it in yourself to stand up?

Their conversations were sundry; in any of them, you engaged in none. Even Shoto was more participative than normal in attempts to get you along. It was then when they realized they had not a single information about you. Hagakure didn’t even know your first name, as Aizawa only ever called you by your last, and when the rest of your classmates clarified it was ‘(y/n),’ she complimented it, as if it would help you be at ease around them.

“Oh, what a pretty name!” She exclaimed. “It kind of fits well with... (n/n)[nickname]. Can I call you (n/n)-chan? Like Tsuyu-chan!”

“...well,” you voiced out in the most minimal volume, and their happiness upon hearing your voice was sickeningly evident. You sighed, “sure.”

Even Iida dedicated himself to calling you that. That was okay, you thought, because it wasn’t like you would be spending almost all the time with them. Right; this was a one time thing. Never gonna happen again. You’d commit unalive before it could.

But you didn’t commit fast enough.

By the time dismissal came you rushed out of the classroom and to the restroom to avoid meeting with Izuku and his friends just in case they also had plans on robbing you of your personal time in dismissal. You went to a restroom that was not on the floor level of class 1A - you were sure your female classmates would spend minutes upon minutes in there - and waited for thirty minutes. You literally counted 1,800 seconds in your mind as it was the only way to withhold the bubbling anxiety inside you without looking like an oddball, doing box-breathing techniques alone and all that - though some students from different classes were wondering why you remained on your spot in that restroom.

Upon mentally saying the last second, you dashed out of the restroom and to the school building entrance, passing by your homeroom teacher on the way but not bothering to spare him a greeting. You hoped he would assume you just did not see him as you were brisk-walking. He would later on probably ask why you were still in school thirty minutes past dismissal.

U.A. dorms came to view and never had a bigger wave of relief washed over you. Today had been a hectic day, and you congratulated yourself for enduring the school hours that included socializing; perhaps you deserved a reward after all this. There was a quaint café a couple of minutes away from U.A., beside a convenience store; maybe you should try the sweets there on the weekend. No one knew about it, as it did not look like one, but that was why you decided to try it out. Small, tranquil, and picturesque - exactly what you needed.

Quietly, you opened the entrance door, and slipped in headfirst to see if you could go inside undetected. Unfortunately for you, you came in unexpected eye contact with Denki.

“(Y/n), hey!” He called from the dining area, smiling brightly. That was weird; you didn’t remember being first-name bases with him, and were disarrayed with the fact that he just greeted you when he normally wouldn’t. “Where’d you come from that you returned this late?”

“U-um, uh,” you looked down, “I... walked slowly...”

“Well you sure took your time. C’mere, Bakugou’s cooking.”

“I’m only doing it ‘cause you won’t shut up unless I do it, damn Pikachu!” Yelled the cook.

This time, you just had to refuse. “N-no thanks, I’m... I’m busy.”

Just as you proceeded to stroll your way to your room, you came into an abrupt halt by Kirishima, who was sitting on the common room, waiting for Bakugou’s cooking.

“Busy with what?”

“Huh?”

“We have no homework given for the weekend.” He explained, looking at you from over the sofa. “So... what’s keeping you busy?”

At this point, not only was he the one to stare at you, but so were Denki and Bakugou, who skeptically raised a brow in anticipation of your answer; in anticipation of your presence in the common room, as if he was expecting that you’d try out his cooking, too. Shoto and Izuku ended their conversation at once upon seeing you by the dorm elevator, halted and wide-eyed, like a deer caught on headlights.

For your small, silent, anxiety-stricken self, this was too much.

“C-can you...” you pleaded, voice scarcely above a whisper, “can you not...”

You wanted to voice out if they could stop looking at you like that - surely they could, couldn’t they? You felt supremely inferior to their stares and it didn’t help that most of them were deemed a few of the strongest in the class. It felt like they were going to use their quirk on you and, against them, your quirk was rendered futile.

You ran to the opposite hallway, opting to walk the set of stairs to your dorm level in lieu of using the elevator. You heard Kirishima’s yell of your name - “(y/n), wait!” - but made no attempt to slow down for him to catch up to you. He didn’t follow you, anyway, only abruptly standing from the cushion when you made a run for it along the hall, then falling back down in defeat, with a sigh escaping his lips.

“Man, she’s like Amajiki-senpai but kind of worse.”

“Well?” Denki queried. “Aren’t you gonna go after her?”

“I want to, but I feel like she’ll just... ignore me.”

Denki sighed. “And you say you’re a man.”

“Hey, I am!” He slumped on the couch. “I just know the right timing, which isn’t now. Probably later, or when Mina’s around. Maybe she’s more comfortable with girls.”

That was a funny joke, because your anxiety doesn’t discriminate, and you were uncomfortable around boys and girls and nonbinaries and basically everyone and everything in and beyond the gender spectrum either way.

You didn’t think of going out to fill your stomach before going to sleep, fearing the tension between you and your classmates who had witness the small encounter prior. By the time evening came, though, a knock was heard on your room’s entrance. You opened it begrudgingly, and in front of you appeared the face of the pinkette. Beside her was Kirishima.

“Hi, (y/n)!” Mina exclaimed brightly, much like how Denki had a few hours ago. “I know you haven’t eaten dinner yet. Come on!”

You were about to decline such a generous offer, but just then, your stomach churned in agreement against your will.

“...fine.”

As you three walked the corridor towards the stairs, Kirishima sauntered beside your form.

“Hey, uh, sorry about a while ago. I knew you weren’t comfortable with us but I still persisted with asking.”

He appeared to be genuinely sincere with the apology, with his palm on the back of his neck and eyes averting to everywhere but you, and the faint red on his cheek made him look less intimidating.

“It’s... it’s fine, you know.” Again, your voice was practically just an exhale. You turned the other way. “I’m sorry for running away like that. It was rude.”

Because of your consideration to apologize on your behalf, he found the confidence to grin at you without guilt. “It’s completely fine! At least now we’re on good terms, yeah?”

“Mm.”

This interaction didn’t stop you from preferring to be alone in your room. But you were hungry, and your stomach wasn’t relenting. As you sat on the corner of the sofa in the common room, Sero, with a grin, handed you your plate of [favorite dish].

“It’s your favorite food, right? Bakugou insisted to make it just for you.”

You slightly smiled at the thoughtfulness.

Then your face dropped in shock.

And so did the others’.

You blinked once, twice, then slowly looked at him in unnerved suspicion. “How did you know?”

“You sound like a stalker, Sero!” Denki whined abhorrently. “Freaking creep. Trust me, (y/n), it’s just that we noticed you always pack that for lunch. I got to say, though, I don’t blame you for liking [favorite dish].” He took a piece from your plate.

Alright, that sounded reasonable. Anything to keep you from the aching paranoia that they were actually watching what you did.

“And here I was trying to start things pleasant with (y/n).” Sero dramatically heaved, though somehow he still exuded this chilling vibe. It barely helped you with having to be around all these social butterflies.

From the other side of the common room were Momo, Jirou, and Hagakure, who played with a bunny borrowed from Koda. It didn’t help you at all that they spotted you from your place in the sofa.

“(N/n)-chan!” Along with your gaze, the rest of your classmates with you looked at them. “Wanna hold Koda’s pet rabbit? Right here!”

“No!” Yelled Mina right beside you, bringing a faint ring to your ears. You weren’t used to noise, having been always keeping to yourself. She brought you into a tight side embrace, and although she felt you tense under her hold, she ignored it for the sake of saying, “(y/n)’s staying here.”

“Unfair! You’ve had your share of time with her,” what? There was a planned time of when you were supposed to hang out with one group and the other? “now it’s our turn!”

“Please, you’ve had your time during recess! The rest of the night, she spends it with us.” Mina explained, nodding in agreement to herself. Her friends within her clique seemed to like the idea. Oh no. You did not want to spend the rest of your night with people you barely even knew. What would they do to you? Why were they being so revoltingly clingy all of a sudden?

Again, you wanted out, pleading yourself to convene the courage to say that-

“No, I don’t want to hang out with you, I just want to go back to the solace of my own room, just watch or read or sleep or anything else that won’t have anything to do with socializing with you all!”

Unfortunately, that was all just in your head.

“I don’t mean to intervene personally, but,” Momo started, promptly leaving her cup of tea on the table, “during recess, she talked mostly to Midoriya and Uraraka. I think it’s about time I get to be with her.”

“But I didn’t get to be with her at all.” Sero counterargued. “Therefore, she’s staying right here.”

Jirou derided, “As if she wants to get along with you. (Y/n), you wanna pet this rabbit or not?”

“Don’t bribe her with something that isn’t even yours!” Exclaimed Kirishima.

“Well, is she yours?”

“N-not at all, but neither is she yours!”

“(N/n)-chan, come here, pretty please?”

“I’m telling you! She's already comfortable here. See? All snug and comfy in my arms.”

“You’re not giving her a chance to decide where she wants to be!”

“Shut the hell up, you damn extras.” Bakugou’s voice, albeit neither soft nor strong in volume, was the loudest of them all. His presence was also the strongest and most intimidating, and you were unable to suppress the reflex to recoil when he leaned on you from behind the sofa, breathing practically against your neck. “(Y/n) stays here.”

The decision was determined from then on. Frustration was prominent on Momo and Jirou’s countenances, and Hagakure was silent for the rest of the night, going back to Koda’s room in order to return his pet rabbit. Mina moved you to the center of the couch so Bakugou could sit on your other side, and when he did, you felt the strong radiance of heatwaves from his body. He would be a perfect cuddler for the winter season. It always felt too cold or too hot whenever you were with people, but you refused to make a personal heater out of him.

“Alright!” From beneath you where he sat, Denki exclaimed. “Who’s up for a horror movie?”

It was not like you had much of a choice, anyway. Whether you loved it or not, a horror movie was being played in the common room’s television, and you had to sit throughout the whole two hours of it with all of Bakugou’s squad hovering around you. You weren’t sure what was scarier; the film, or the fact that discourse broke just a few minutes ago regarding whom you were ending up with. But if anything, you’d rather watch this alone than with these outlandish people claiming to be your friends and acting as if they didn’t ignore you and tend to their own business just yesterday.

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4dtk · 3 years

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based on a lil discussion with me and @moonboohoo btw this is a little ooc since sukuna is a cat lol. enjoy!

[yuji is typing...]

oh my godddd you're ordering food? i want food too wtf

anyway. i hear u about your problem. why not just ask the first person you see when you get back home?

[(y/n) is typing...]

you want me to ask my cat??????

[yuji is typing...]

oh no not the cat, that feline is the devil himself im sure

the person delivering your food, ask them!!! maybe they'd be willing to give you a chance

[(y/n) is typing...]

hey!!!! :( dont be mean to sukuna :((

your maine coon curls up against you as you flop down on the couch with phone in hand, the other switching on the television with not much thought. your hand naturally strokes the cat's fur, jumping channels from one to the next in boredom as you wait for the delivery.

sukuna's purring carry on even when the doorbell is rung, accepting the food with a smile and careful hands. when you don't return, however, the cat perks up in curiosity, seeing the familiar twirl of your hair around your fingers as you engage in a conversation with the person at your door.

"so... is tomorrow okay?" you ask, tired of waiting for the perfect partner to come and sweep you off your feet. the other goes to answer, but sukuna interrupts before they can, hissing with the swishing of his bushy tail. it's as if he was a human himself, staring down at the delivery person despite the massive height difference.

"ah, s..sorry," you rush to place the food down, picking up the majestic cat into your arms to cradle him, "my cat's pretty aggressive to strangers."

"we could always reschedule it?" they say, shrugging their shoulders, "doesn't look like your cat wants me in the house if i were to come over tomorrow."

you smile apologetically, "'m sorry again."

they wave a hand, both in goodbye and dismissal of your apology for such a trivial thing.

the cat descends from your arms gracefully, walking off like he hadn't just cost you a future partner. as sukuna prances off, you roll your eyes at his dramatics, reaching for the food before finally settling down in front of the television again. at least now you had a purpose of going channel surfing.

it wasn't a very productive day, clocking out at an early 11pm to get ready for tomorrow. scrolling through social media was your favourite pastime, slotting in a bit of 'me' time before succumbing to sleep with sukuna snuggled up against your side.

the next morning wasn't merciful; with its bright rays shining through the window and the annoying construction going on from across the street, you could almost feel your annoyance levels rising before you got the morning routine.

"she wanted to invite them into the house? thank god i swooped in before they could agree. what right do they have to hang with (y/n)?"

what's worse is there was murmuring just at the foot of your bed, the pacing of their footsteps deemed too loud by your groggy, grumpy self.

wait.

"who's there?!" your shout catches the attention of the male, hand pointing at the owner of the noisy-ass footsteps with fear.

his messy pink hair was enough to catch your attention, but the tattoos littered across his arms and face was enough to make you gasp. you keep your mouth shut when he looks you over with red eyes, meeting yours with a tilt of his head. it's a sukuna habit, even when he's a human.

"who... are you?"

"seriously?" he asks unimpressed, crossing his arms over his exposed chest.

"sukuna!" you jolt in surprise at your missing cat, "sukuna?"

there's genuine concern and confusion when you repeat his name for the third time, coming to terms that he might really be in front of you.

"s...ukuna?" you whisper in caution, inching towards him as he keeps his eyebrow raised at your clueless state. tracing your hand across his carefully drawn tattoos was the first thing you did before moving on to his unkempt pink hair and mouth, where he still possessed his canine teeth.

he recoils as part of instinct, an uncharacteristic blush appearing on his face.

you overlook his behaviour but instead groan, falling back into the bed behind you in panic from the situation you've just encountered. your head comes up to gaze at the other, frustrated that he hasn't gone away after slapping your face, blinking your eyes or even falling off the bed.

"fuck. so you're real then."

"tch, then what am i? am i not matter, a material that constitutes the observable universe and, together with energy, forms the basis of all objective phenomena?"

you blow a raspberry, "did you get that from my science notes? god, whatever, let's get you some clothes."

luckily, with your wide array of oversized shirts, you were able to dress him decently. despite your confusion, you still were very interested to know how he came to be in your small apartment. with a skilled hand, you brew some coffee for the both of you, handing him a steaming hot cup after a few minutes.

"i change every night," sukuna says nonchalantly, immediately spitting out the bitter drink in repulsion.

he makes a disgusted face, “what the fuck is this?”

you deadpan, "really? all over my floor?"

getting up, your hands reach for the paper towels to clean up the mess that your cat-turned-human made, cringing at the way the paper towel turns brown with the immediate soak-up.

“but this is the first time i’ve struggled to change back. i’m not sure how i do it normally, but jeez, drinking your goddamn coffee makes me wish i was a cat again.”

with each passing minute, he gets on your nerves and by now, he’s shoved the drink back to you. standing up, he stretches his muscles like how he usually does in the mornings, allowing for every part of his toned body to show itself.

there goes the annoyance...

"well, i can't say i'm not attracted either..." you mutter to yourself, gulping down the extra cup before placing them in the sink. the laptop you frequent makes its way onto your lap not so long later, bringing up a essay due in the next week. you decided to start early this time and made sure to pace yourself, trying to rule out the last minute rushes you always settled for.

an arm encircles around your waist, taking you by surprise when you let out a squeak. sukuna is nuzzling himself into your arm while you try to frantically delete the out-of-topic sentence that was making its way onto the word doc.

"what are you doing?"

"morning routine," he simply says, laying his tongue on you without any warning.

"oh god, sukuna, no!" you groan, pushing him away from his tight grip on you like he usually does when his body is propped against your chest. you've woken up too many times, struggling to breathe because of his weight.

he retreats reluctantly, really wishing he was a cat again as he grunts at your behaviour.

"have it your way," sukuna mumbles, his naturally grumpy self amplified by your rejection. you thought back to the times your maine coon normally sat beside you quietly, basking in the way your fingers typed on the keyboard.

what could be any different? plus, you'd have a reciprocation of your head pats.

there's a tug on the other's wrist, "you can lay. just no- no licking, okay?"

you almost scoff at the sukuna rolls his eyes, but his actions betray him anyways because he's laid down beside you, curling into your side as he places his head into your stomach.

the desktop's illumination shines brighter than the morning's rays, hypnotising sukuna into a slumber as you play with his hair.

you wouldn't have noticed the male if he hadn't introduced himself, but his brash personality matched your cat too closely, knowing you were the only one he'd show affection to despite the constant hissing and glares he sent to your friends.

a gentle grasp of his hand snaps you out of your thoughts, bringing back memories of the way he'll lay his paw on you, even during the first time where you met him in the animal shelter.

sukuna stays peaceful throughout his sleep, pink hair slowly becoming messier the more he cuddled into your person. he was content now, at least, as you read over the essay to correct any mistakes.

it lulls him in and out of consciousness, stuck between wanting to hear your tender voice and relishing being embraced in his sleep.

either way, he was positive he wanted to spend the rest of his cat (or human) life with you.

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wolfsneedles · 3 years

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i like how prophetic dreams and prophecies in itself different from visions are interpreted in different ways and in diff directions but also by different people for eg stannis and Mel, Rhaegar and dany or other targaryen kings. Jojen and bran, Cersei and Maggy etc...

Melisandre usually tumbles and makes mistakes she sees what she sees but not exactly she wants to see what should be accurate considering how her major azhor ahai is stannis, was a mistake and an error. However recently we know she sees snow in flames. jon. but im skeptical about him being prince that was promised or AA, when you have....daenerys right here. But she still commits mistakes idk maybe rh'ollor is lil unhinged and is messing with her, but no. i think she is prone to change and her prophecies change too. Mel doesn't stick up to one interpretation and pretty sure will leave stannis in long run if she believes who is AA to her.

But stannis, is stubborn and crude. As a skeptic and well part atheist, he took her words and religious ventures too seriously and has attached with the prophecy too vehemently as if he has to be AA at any cost not knowing prophecy can't matter in the end even, but its so funny to me he risked most of the stuff for red priestess who just came to her and is like, "ight u be the king cuz u have targaryen blood"

Jojen reeds dreams are like mostly about starks and wolves and how they will come back again and when bran and others ask him if what he sees can be changed, he says no. which means him seeing something can be finalized testament or something that will happen one way or other since starks coming back or wolves coming back, is like obvious thing since they have their might broken. Bran is currently well being trained by bloodraven so his views weren't yet in first books but evolved with time.

And my fav part is cersei's prophecy of valonqar and maggy. She is destined or was to marry king not prince and she would have 3 children while robert 16 bastards, and we never knew and it was strange to me how lannisters never acquired or were even mildly amused by idea of magic all the way but cersei going to a witch when she was in casterly rock with her companions was like a major twist for me since i never assumed her to be like that, however she knows her fate will end by valonqar and a young more beautiful queen (def dany) will replace her and take what she holds dear. However cersei's reaction to this prophecy when she herself asks witch to tell her fortune is volatile. She takes to anger and resists it from coming true. She even shapes her life and everything according to not letting the prophecy come true but it follows her to in a way that she does marry robert and has 3 children by incestuous relationship. At the very best however, she avoids it because she hates the truth of it. She steers away from it.

Rhaegar is a different matter to me. I like how he was born as melancholic and amidst grief during tragedy of summerhal and well overall, for me had tragic demise but he took the prophecy too serious differently than stannis even. He made sure to follow and correct it and apply it aptly on his marital life and social life. He even kind of got too carried away and dreamy with it that he didn't himself realise the situation changing with Robert's rebellion and everything happening. Rhaegar however we knew was kind of intellectual and sensual personality so maybe he took the targaryen grief of years of no dragons too seriously too. And in the end well...prophecy really didn't work for him and most of his actions failed him and those around.

Dany is so different in this regards tbh. She is part of two prophecies for me the 'prince that was promised' and AZHOR AHAI. and the last 'younger more beautiful queen'. I mean it's startling. Unlike her brother and even old ancestors of her blood, she intrinsically is tied to so many of these prophetic verses and proves on so many occasions especially after birth of dragons that she indeed can be Azhor Ahai or maybe - the best candidates for her. She doesn't really is obsessed with it or neither is she forcing someone to tell her fate like cersei and then meet the rejection with rudeness infact she kind of subverts expectations one has of glaring prophecy which everyone imagines to be a prince...or a man. But dany really isn't a man lol and neither a prince. Aemon did say too the translated prophecy can have error too and it was not really prince who is promised but could be well...princess if that's even the correct term. Her birth of dragons explained in numerous posts and metas is so phenomenal and makes her ever so wonderful and magical than her all ancestors who died in all tragic ways because they made the prophecies too tied to their lives and were utterly obsessed with it. They were reminiscing over grief of dragons but daenerys bought dragons that to, three back to world after stepping into drogo's pyre and performing a ritual she herself only realised in the end what she was doing and thanks to well MMD. She realized later but still did she realise how the stone eggs did exudate warmth and called to her. Im pretty sure all other targayens and their expectations and experiences were all in vain or went down drain. Dany on the other hand independently alone and on her own without help of anyone but only subtly joining clues and hints, sorted out and stitched the importance and relevance of it. The dragons and ritual. It was anyways a one time magical event too, no wonder her bringing dragons to world is written as " music of dragons" and night came alive with it in AGOT. (interesting that grrm says music of dragons and well rhaegar also liked playing sad music at ruins of summerhall, an emo prince yea)

And Daenerys doesn't really is tied herself to prophecy but most of the prophecies are tied to her. The Younger More Beautiful Queen one indicates at her..tbh and really no one including cersei and her knows about it. The AzAhai one also points to her because she was born in salts of dragonstone and smoke refers to birth of dragons and cracking of sound and smoke during pyre. The sword forged from flame can obv be pointed to drogon whose birth is like fire made flesh of a dragon hence that, and also when Xaro X Daxos says, of her dragons 'as flaming sword'.

but not getting into details of AA as dany because again, there are a lot of essays to it.

I just pointed out how stannis makes prophecy his and forced a little on people, how jojen trains bran too in a way and he still takes time to learn this green visions thing, cersei staggers away from it and damages people to not fulfill it or prevent it from engulfing her...but dany has no idea yet as far of any prophecy only a dream, and house of undying visions which she herself doesnt yet believe all so much we rlly dont know, yet she fulfills def 2/3 prophecies.

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elftwink · 2 years

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Re: intentionally bad fics-- thoughts on "Starkit's Prophecy"? It does kinda fall into the overreliance on misspelled words trope you pointed out, but I always thought it managed to be pretty funny anyway... but it's been a while since I looked at it, so my opinions may be different if I revisited it now (and the plot is certainly outlandish enough that it could stand on its own without the spelling/grammar "errors")

i had actually never heard of this but ive done a quick google search and first of all thank u. will be reading this all day. but to answer your question after a quick skim although it's definitely bordering on that i think it's still got that plausible deniability of those being genuine mistakes. esp since warriors is a series for a younger audience, the typing and writing mistakes are things someone in that age bracket could conceivably do, if they're a little excessive

i think my thing is it's not excess alone but also type of error. because there are some errors that you almost certainly wouldn't do by accident. the best example i can think of is really excessive and random capital letters. typing a capital letter is an extra step, and a capital letters are a basic rule of writing taught really early on. likely if someone is fucking up their capitals, it's that they're not capitalizing things that should be capitalized (first letters of sentences, proper nouns, etc) or that they capitalized the first few letters of a word instead of the first letter only and didn't notice (THere instead of There is a mistake you could make and not catch if you weren't paying attention). but when you read a sentence like: "THEY weNt to The SToRE anD Got miLk and EGGS" im simply not buying it! why would someone be holding the shift button at all during some of those words? not a mistake. and then usually when people are doing it intentionally badly the sentence actually looks more like this: "THEe Y weNt 2 Tha SToER naD Gotted meLk and EAGGS". and every sentence is like that. and it's like. at a certain point you would notice that right. like if you have read any other thing in the english language you would go huh. this isn't really following any of the rules.

also i think this intentionally bad writing style tends to be way too focused on spelling and simple grammar when actual 'bad' writing (whether so bad it's good or just plain bad) has equally as much to do with structure and pacing. like starkits prophecy has a bunch of very short, simple sentences, and the occasional run on one, which is a hallmark of beginner writers who don't yet know how to vary sentence length. my immortal's use of speech tags (shouted/exclaimed/said/replied flirtily being used in immediate succession, for example) even when they're grammatically correct and spelled right also contribute to how 'bad' it is. these are genuine mistakes beginner writers make, but a lot of writers who are just fine don't yet have a grasp on how to do it well enough to accurately replicate someone fucking it up.

being bad in a way that is fun and genuine requires either unbelievable sincerity or a lot of skill. and people don't think that. they think it's easy being bad at something because, well, people who are genuinely bad don't know shit! but they forget that once you do know something, in order to actually mirror what it's like to know nothing, you have to understand it really well. well enough to GET where beginners are going wrong and where the usual pitfalls are. you want to be bad enough that no one takes you seriously... but also JUST good enough that they wonder if they should. just good enough that maybe some people do! making people ask "is this for real?" is THE ideal for so bad its good fic. and it is really hard. and you cannot do it with spelling mistakes alone.

anyway sorry for this essay i got excited i have a lot to say about this topic and got a bit distracted from your original question. i think so far my opinion of starkits prophecy is that it works. going 2 finish reading it now

#i think generally ppl who are doing it intentionally don't take into account qwerty keyboard placements enough #so they'll make 'mistakes' that you would never make bc they require you to go out of your way #on the keyboard. take my misspelling of 'eggs' as 'eaggs'#the a key is sort of close to the e and g keys but not really right? it's a bit out of the way #you're more likely to misspell it like 'egggs' or 'egga'#bc the a key is much closer to the s. and you're already hitting the g key twice #but if you're thinking too much you can be like oh they're both vowels and lots of english words have ea in them #nu-uh. not how people make mistakes while typing in general #and one of these is like. fine. it's when it's every single word and none of them make any since that it falls apart #*sense. good lord. shoutout 2 me for demonstrating the kinda mistake u make while not paying attention #anonymous #answered

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Text

No Shelf-Awareness

I’m just trying to work out these cards I’ve been dealt -Rumour, Chloe Howl

Bucky doesn’t necessarily like meetings. He views them as a waste of time, and they could just as easily give him a paper with all the information. Clint says it’s so if they have questions they ask them there instead of making a mistake on the field.

“They allow mistakes?” Bucky asks, as blandly as can be.

“You make me so sad on so many levels,” Clint says, clapping his shoulder. “Yes, you’re allowed to make mistakes. Why the hell do you think Steve is allowed on-field?”

Bucky laughs at that one.

The meeting in question is about Iron Man. The red and gold suit with a man inside of it, apparently. SHIELD wants his identity but more importantly, the technology.

“If you haven’t found anything else like it, what makes you think that he wants to share it?” Bucky asks. “Just let it happen.”

“We can’t just ‘let’ this happen, Barnes,” Fury says, voice steady and eye trained on him.

“Why not?” Bucky asks. “He’s taking care of criminals on a corporate level. We can’t touch that without bringing more attention to agents.”

“Which is why we’re integrating,” Fury says.

“Not fast enough,” Bucky says. “He doesn’t need to gain trust. With integrating, there’s possibility of a double agent. They get paid off and it’s more than what you promise for a salary.”

“I assure you our agents aren’t that low.”

“Oh and you kept them all from Hydra?” Bucky snaps. “Because as I recall, Rumlow was pretty damn happy to be one of Pierce’s lapdogs, so—”

“Enough,” Fury snaps. “Enough from you, Barnes.”

“We could be dealing more directly with the people we have that actually need to be stopped instead of a damned robot who happens to like taking down illegal corporations that were on our to-do list anyway,” Bucky snipes back. “I’m leaving.”

“Don’t bother expecting yourself on the next mission,” Fury calls after him.

He gets a nice and shiny metal finger in response.

Bucky then decides to treat himself to a trip to the bookstore. He’s already read the last book twice, and he needs a new one.

It’s a Friday, and kids are getting out of school. He pays them little mind as he walks with purpose, taking note of possible threats, a new donut shop

The bookstore smells nice, like coffee and sugar. Bucky wanders through it, keeping an eye out for the owner.

He finds him huddled at a table with a group of teenagers, explaining some sort of math problem, laughing at one’s joke. He has glasses perched on the end of his nose, giving him quite an amusing and cute appearance. Bucky smiles to himself a little as he disappears into the stacks, looking through the new arrivals. He finds two particularly interesting ones.

“That one is really good,” comes a voice from behind him. Bucky turns, seeing Tony. He looks nice today. He’s wearing bright yellow shoes. “I like it.”

Bucky takes another look at the cover.

“What else can you recommend? I’m kind of a fast reader.”

(He is not a fast reader. Well, not really. But if you stay up all night only reading because you have too many nightmares, then it counts. Technically.)

Tony puts about four or five books into his arms before he realizes that he hasn’t checked prices or anything.

“Trust me, this is fine,” Bucky says, grinning. “Thanks, Tony.”

“No problem…huh. I just realized I don’t actually know your name.”

Tony does, in fact, know James Buchanan Barnes’ name. Quite well, in fact. He’s the one who Hydra trained to kill people and attempt to kill Howard and Maria Stark, who are still living. They moved to Italy, by the way. No, Tony doesn’t care. Just makes it easier to break into the New York home on occasion, fix up the old workshop.

(He can’t use his own apartment as a base for Iron Man. That would be utterly ridiculous.)

But for this purpose, he does actually need to learn Bucky’s name.

“I’m Bucky,” he says.

“Parents hated you, did they?” Tony teases.

“Only slightly less than my idiot friend who gave it to me,” Bucky says, grinning.

“Idiot friends are like that,” Tony says, smiling. “Well, do you want to sit down and read for a bit? Chairs are open, if you’d like.”

“Sure. Mind if I order a coffee?”

“Of course,” Tony says. “What do you want?”

Bucky did not know that there was more coffee. Well…correction. He knew that there was more to coffee than black. There had to be, obviously. He just wasn’t expecting the menu to be so extensive. He looked at it for a few moments while Tony waited expectantly.

“Um, wow. I don’t drink a lot of coffee, but um, what would you recommend?”

“I personally love the lavender latte we’ve been trying out,” Tony says. “I’ll make you one and if you don’t like it, I’ll replace it free of charge.”

Bucky not drinking a lot of coffee is a lie. Steve joked that he needed a tank of coffee a day to even function. Bucky just usually took it with a bit of sugar and pronounced it good.

Now this was amazing. Bucky loved the drink, loved how different the flavor was. He could drink about twelve more of these if he really wanted to.

“Tony, this is amazing,” Bucky says, expressing pure delight over it. “How do you make coffee this good?”

“You act as if you’ve never had a latte,” Tony says, laughing. (It’s not acting.) “But here, let me explain…”

Bucky could hear Tony Jarvis explain things for ages. He’s really good at it, like he’s used to explaining how things go all the time. Bucky finds it relaxing.

It is at this point that a kid in a t-shirt comes up.

“Hey, Mr. Jarvis—”

“Call me Tony, Pete,” Tony responds. “What’s next on the homework agenda?”

“We have to write a persuasive essay and since you told us you took marketing, we figured you could help.”

“Not sure how much help I’ll be, but sure,” Tony says. “Bucky, I’ll talk to you later. Enjoy the books. If you finish any while you’re here, just put them back on the re-shelving cart by the door, okay?”

“Yes, Sir!” Bucky says, throwing a mock salute. Tony snorts, saluting lazily back.

Bucky gets sucked into the first book. He relates to how out-of-place the main character feels. He doesn’t notice the sky getting dark until he sips his coffee and it’s cold that he looks up.

Tony has been staring at him for the better part of an hour. Not that he knows that. He just knows that Tony has perhaps been gazing for a minute or two.

“Oh god, please tell me I’m not staying past close,” Bucky says.

“You’re not, don’t worry,” Tony says, laughing. “You would’ve known if you were. No, there’s thirty minutes more left, if you want to keep reading. No rush, sweetheart.”

Bucky goes back to his book with a nod, hoping that Tony doesn’t catch his cheeks going bright red. He remembers being called sweetheart before, but this is drastically different from 1934 for all the right and wrong reasons. (Right because finally he can tell a guy he’s cute without getting mauled or having to whisper it near-six-feet-under. Wrong because Tony is running a business and Bucky met him a day ago.)

Tony shifts nervously around the shop. He had planned on closing early, getting into the suit with Rhodey and doing some recon.

Judging from the texts from Rhodey, so was he:

Bitch where tf are you. Stoopid.

Well excuse me honeypie, but I got held up. A customer is still here!

Kick them out tf????? r u on crack?

No you stupid-ass—listen. I just can’t make it

Ohhhh this is your bucky-boy. This is hilarious. Yeah leave the store open until he leaves. Idk why he isn’t on the roster with the rest of the Avengers this week. Should be. Damned good guy. lmk if he’s a booty call

I won’t talk to you for a week.

Thank god!

Tony huffs, clicking his phone off and returning to wiping down the counters and rearranging the records. Bucky walks up, putting the books at the register.

“I didn’t realize people still played records,” Bucky says, looking at the room adjacent.

“I’ll make sure that you get to play some next time you’re here,” Tony says. “But let me ring you up, okay?”

Bucky hands out the amount owed and sticks three dollars in the tip jar. Tony thanks him and smiles, and Bucky thinks he’ll have to start separating his bills more so that he can see that smile more often.

And then, of course, he gets a call from his phone.

“You’re needed,” Natasha says. “Come over. Now.”

“What happened to me being banned?”

“You’re a sharpshooter and a good weapons analyst. Fury would be stupid to reject that. Get here. Now.”

She hangs up. Always keeps it short and sweet, that Romanov. Bucky sighs, figuring out if he has enough time to go to his apartment and stash the books, or if he’ll have to leave them at headquarters.

He has to leave them at headquarters. He gets a look from Steve and Clint.

“Find a new hobby?” Steve asks.

“Of a sort,” Bucky says. “Got interrupted. What’s the plan?”

“Both War Machine and Iron Man are attacking Hammer Industries. Again.” Clint says, rolling his eyes. “You know, just when you thought they would switch it up. This is the third time in a row. Third time’s the charm and all that…”

Bucky doesn’t trust this for a wide variety of reasons. 1.) Iron Man is smarter than all of them, as is War Machine. 2.) Three times? In a row? Something has to be going down.

“What has Hammer Industries been doing?”

“Other than building weapons and government contracts? Nothing out of the ordinary,” Natasha says.

“Government contract is a big deal ever since Stark Industries lost out,” Bruce adds. “CEO—Pepper Potts—decreed no more weapons. Not a very popular move on her part.” Yeah, Bucky could see that. His best is from Stark Industries, but he understands. Iron Man had released evidence about SI’s involvement in shady under-the-table deals, all at the direction of Obadiah Stane.

“So, why go after a government contract?” Bucky muses. “They know something we don’t.”

“That doesn’t matter right now, we’re getting both of them under custody,” Hill says from the cockpit.

It does matter, his conscious whispers, or else you’d still be staring at Tony from the bookstore. His focus returns to the books at his side. He didn’t notice it before, but the bookstore has its own stamp that it gives the inside covers. It’s cute. He must have stared too long, because Steve nudges his arm.

“I’m glad you found a place you like,” he says. “Where is it?”

For some unknown reason, Bucky doesn’t want to tell anybody.

“Just a bookshop,” he says, closing the cover. “Checked it out before coming here. Around the neighborhood.”

That’s all he says before the mission is engaged and he’s strapped with enough gear to kill a pack of bears. He would much rather be reading, but that’s not what he gets.

“Took you long enough,” Rhodey says over the mic. “You and Bucky have fun between the stacks?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Tony responds. “I cannot believe you would accuse me of impropriety, honey. Honestly.”

“I have literally seen you strip on a Tuesday morning because you had too many mimosas and Pepper wanted to see if you actually would.”

“Details darling, let’s focus on the now. What has our dear friend Justin been up to?”

“For one, his online security and the regular security absolutely suck. I already am printing out the evidence where I’m at. I think all we need is to destroy some stuff and then—”

Rhodey gets knocked aside by red, white, and blue.

Tony groans. Figures that they would catch onto the pattern. Tony knew he should’ve waited, but he didn’t want to get Hammer spooked and up and running again. They needed him out of the way, maybe introduce a better CEO or hell, a better company—

“Iron Man, stand down,” comes the loudspeaker of the jet.

“Fat chance,” he mutters, zooming away from one of Hawkeye’s projectile arrows. Seriously, they could have so much better range if he built them. Unfortunately for him, SHIELD apparently wants him on a silver platter, so that won’t be a nice future with the company.

War Machine is already leading the heavy hitters away. The hardest one to deal with is usually Thor, who doesn’t always have the most accurate shot but definitely doesn’t entirely miss. Especially with the hammer having some sort of recall, it’s difficult to avoid. Tony’s just happy that Winter Soldier is off the roster and away from—

Son of a bitch, no he’s not. He can see the arm from here, and curses.

“Platypus, we have a gleaming problem.”

“I thought he was off the roster!”

“Apparently Fury signed his permission slip for this field trip,” he replies. “What do we need to destroy? I have an idea.”

“A shipment of guns. I don’t recommend going anywhere near it, but of course you will not heed my advice.”

“Be a dear and lead the Widow in closer? I think I can do something.”

Winter Soldier is having a fun time. Usually the missions are a one-hit-wonder, so to speak. Iron Man and War Machine move and actually anticipate the shots, which is all sorts of fun. He just hopes that Steve can’t see his grin, or he’ll be in hot water for it. (Fun sucker.)

“Barnes do you have the shot!” Nat yells.

“I’ve had the damn shot, what the fuck do you want me to do against iron?” he yells back.

“It’s titanium-alloy, but I understand,” Iron Man says smoothly, touching down as lightly as a ballerina. “SHIELD not do the intelligence testing anymore? I understand. If they knew Hawkeye was on the team without it…”

Bucky wants to laugh. He really, really does. But he doesn’t. “Why are you at Hammer? What’s your game?”

“I’m surprised you ask,” Tony says, blinking. His helmet tilts to one side. Usually, no one at SHIELD asks any sort of question. This is…new. “Hammer’s selling under the table. War Machine and I are handling it.”

“You didn’t tell SHIELD about this, did you?”

“There’s a reason SHIELD wants me in handcuffs but the suit left to their own devices,” he says. “They’re not as trustworthy as you think, hot-shot.”

And then Iron Man dodges a blast, and the debris lands on the containers.

The company’s own fault. Clever. Bucky has to hand it to whoever is behind the mask, he’s smart.

Iron Man does a mock salute.

“Until next time, losers!” War Machine calls out.

“Do you think they know that War Machine has a tracking device?” Natasha asks. Clint shakes his head.

“Not sure. Probably not since we’ve been focusing on Iron Man. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Bucky turns, thinking. Iron Man had said that they’re not as trustworthy as they seem. What did he mean by that? How so?

Rhodey isn’t a fucking clown. Of course he knows they put a tracker somewhere on his suit. It’s recording audio, which Jarvis knows. Rhodey puts a finger to his lips as they touch down. Tony gets the hint immediately, taps out a message for Jarvis to scan and debug.

“Pest Control Initiative working now…” comes the smooth, lilting accent of Jarvis.

Once they’re out of harm’s way, Rhodey cracks a grin.

“Think they’ll like that?”

“Should fry the system for them for a little bit,” Tony says. “Which leads into me getting in. Thanks for putting up with that whole mess.”

“You owe me a century-old bottle of whiskey for Black Widow.”

“Get in line behind Pepper,” Tony says. “She’ll be at the cabinet on your left.” Rhodey snorts as they touch down at Stark Industries. Pepper is there with a raised eyebrow.

“Evening gentlemen,” she says. “Drinks are on the counter. Fruit juice, no alcohol. It’s a Thursday.”

“Thursday is Friday is Saturday,” Rhodey snarks, taking the glass anyway. “How was work today, Pep?”

“Horrible,” she groans, leaning back on her barstool. “Asshats keep trying to tell me what to do when it’s my company, technically speaking. Tony, how is your bookshop?”

“We’re getting more and more people in,” Tony says. “Record sales are nice, coffee is good too. I need to come up with a new idea for an iced coffee flavor. I’m coming up with nothing.”

“Hazelnut usually works well if you need something in a pinch,” she returns. “Did you manage to get into their system?”

“Success,” Jarvis cuts in smoothly. “I am well-integrated into their system; they have no idea I am there. Of course.”

Jarvis is a bit proud of that particular thing. Then again, he gets a big head when he’s successful.

“Good for you,” Rhodey says. “What can you tell us?”

“Employees have a shocking amount of free time and have made a donut tower.”

“The business, J,” Tony says.

“I am sorry, I was following your ever-amazing guidance for protocol,” Jarvis remarks. “SHIELD has an unprecedented number of holes in security. Files have gone missing. There are a few members that go on trips and check in at the ill-advised times.”

“What does that mean?” Pepper asks.

“When Peggy was running the show everyone had to check in at her time,” Tony says. “She also talked personally about it with everyone or assigned people to supervise if she couldn’t. It was more reliant on people and what you saw. With Fury, times became more technological. Not a bad thing, but not a fantastic thing either. With technology you could claim there was an issue checking in, or the computer lagged. It happens, and you can say that every once in a while unless if you’re me.”

“Because you built most of the systems,” Rhodey says. “So we know you’re at least decently smart.” Tony pokes his tongue out.

“Point is, a lot of the older members of SHIELD either say they didn’t get it, or get tech support to fix it later. Using their inability as an ability, most likely. Clever. I’m just wondering how far it goes.”

“We’ll find out in time,” Rhodey says. “Maybe when you take Bucky out for drinks, you can seduce him into giving you information.”

Pepper stills.

“Tony, you did what?!”

“Um…” Tony glares at Rhodey. “He kind of lives by my bookstore and doesn’t know I’m there? If that makes it better? I should go, I have inventory—”

“Stay,” Pepper says. “We are working on this and I am making sure that you don’t give away your secret because you fall in love.”

“I won’t fall in love!”

“Tall, dark, mysterious, and reads books? Please, I’m surprised I don’t see drool coming out of your mouth,” Pepper says. “Rhodey, did you know about this?”

“Yes. I didn’t tell you because it was funny.”

Pepper huffs. Tony sinks into a comfy lounge chair. It’s gonna be a long night.

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felixfeliciswriterblog · 4 years

Text

Snapetober 2020 - Day 5: Sick/Fever

This was inspired by my main Snape x OFC Severitus fic, but you don’t need to read it to understand it or enjoy it ;)

Warnings: Snape throws up? Idk if that can bother someone. I don’t really describe it in depth or anything XD

Length: 2053 words.

THE PERKS OF BEING CURSED

During Potions class, Professor Snape normally walked from desk to desk, sneered at some so-called dunderheads for being incapable of following the instructions in the blackboard, and generally made sure as few accidents as possible occurred, especially when Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan were involved. He had started off the Erumpent Potion class that way. Fifteen minutes later, he had begun to lean on the desks and walk too slowly. By mid-class, he had given up altogether and sat at his desk, pretending to correct essays even if his quill kept slipping through his trembling fingers. Draco had been stealing glances at his teacher through it all.

“Make sure Crabbe and Goyle don’t spoil the potion,” Draco whispered to Blaise, getting off his stool.

“Where are you going?” wondered Pansy, the one in charge of noting down all the changes the unfinished potion underwent.

“To the loo.”

Both Blaise and Pansy eyed him suspiciously but still gave him a nod. Without wasting time, Draco approached his professor.

“Sir?”

This close, Draco noticed two things. First, Snape’s forehead, usually knitted into a scowl, was now glinting with sweat. Second, Snape’s face was pallid, more so than usual.

“The instructions are clear, Mr. Malfoy. Read them carefully before interrupting me,” he advised, keeping his black eyes on the parchment with barely legible handwriting.

“I’m sorry, Sir. It isn’t about the potion. I need to go to the toilet. It’s an emergency.”

There was a brief pause in which Draco held his breath.

“You may go. Do be quick, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

Draco walked along the corridors, went past the boys’ toilets, climbed up the stairs, and reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The desks formed a U-shape inside of which the first-year students produced jets of red sparks from their wands, some more successful than others. As soon as he spotted Professor Skyrah, closely observing her students and taking notes to later grade their performance, Draco called her. That caught the attention not only of his teacher but also of a few students, now staring at him.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. Professor Snape’s got a message for you. A private one.”

Immediately, she beckoned Draco to approach her desk and cast a muffliato charm.

“Nobody can hear us now,” she assured him. “You may speak.”

“Did Professor Snape meet with the Dark Lord last night? He was crucioed, wasn’t he?”

With squinting eyes, she inquired, “Why are you asking?”

“Did he drink some potion against the cruciatus curse after-effects?” Her lips remained pursed. “I’ve been observing Professor Snape in class. He looks… dizzy. He can’t stand, is sweating, slightly shaking. I’m not a healer, but my father’s gone through that once or twice after drinking that potion. I’d say they’re side-effects.”

“Severus only had a bit of a headache this morning.”

“With all due respect, Professor, I didn’t risk lying to my Head of House just for his wife to think I’m making this up.”

“You lied to my husband?”

“I asked for permission to go to the toilet, but I came here instead.”

“You never go to the toilet mid-lesson… He must be truly sick if he didn’t catch that you were up to something.” She closed her eyes, took a big breath and smiled – it wasn’t the reaction Draco had expected from her. Everything fell into place when she drew circles with her wand and pronounced, “Expecto Patronum!”

The same crow he had met during his first Defence class with her flapped its wings in front of them. The students who had taken notice of Draco earlier were now gasping in awe. Draco couldn’t help but admire the crow with bitter jealousy; what he’d give to invoke a corporeal patronus someday, and maybe prove his aunt Bellatrix wrong and show her Malfoys were also capable of that.

“Argus, it’s Skyrah. Please, come to my classroom. I need you to watch over the students for me. It’s important.”

The crow flew away to deliver the message.

“I should get going, or Professor Snape will realize I’ve lied to him,” said Draco.

“He’ll realize anyway. There’s no other way I could have found out about his… state.”

“...Will you cover me up?”

“Should I?”

“I should receive House points. I may have just avoided a potions accident by telling you. The erumpent potion is quite dangerous.”

She smirked at his cheekiness. “Must I forget that you lied to your Potions teacher?”

“What was I supposed to do? Tell him that he looks like a ghost?”

“That wouldn’t have ended well,” she agreed, grinning lopsidedly. “Why didn’t you go to Poppy?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea if Madam Pomfrey knows anything about the cruciatus curse treatment. I figured that you, on the other hand…”

“Would have some experience,” she finished for him, not confirming it nor denying it.

With a swish of her wand, the muffliato charm was removed. She targeted a silver service bell on the teacher’s desk and pressed it with an uttered sonorus. The ringing noise was loud enough to command the attention of the entire class.

“Training time is over. I’m afraid my presence is required elsewhere,” she informed, standing up. A bunch of students made sounds of protest which became louder when they caught sight of the inseparable duo of Filch and Mrs. Norris. Skyrah gave the caretaker a thankful nod and addressed the students once again. “Next day we will discuss how to defend ourselves against gytrashes. For us to succeed, we first need to understand how the dark creature acts. Therefore, you ought to start reading on them right now, chapter five, and write down questions in case you have them. Argus will supervise the class. If you don't behave yourselves, I’ll know, and you won’t like the consequences.”

She shot a meaningful glance to the quartet of troublemakers of the class and left the classroom, Draco close behind her. He had to match his strides to her quick pace and fight the urge to roll his eyes at the portraits’ whines. Apparently, the click-clacking of her shoes had disrupted the sleep of those that were too lazy to do something other than napping. It was the same sound that alerted Draco’s classmates. When they saw it was Professor Skyrah, accompanied by Draco, whispers filled the potions classroom. Severus didn’t react until Skyrah and Draco were standing right in front of his desk. Even then, he raised his head slowly, grimacing.

“Mr. Malfoy, I see your supposedly short trip to the toilet has become an expedition of sorts. Ten points from Sl–”

“If you deduct points, I’ll give them back.” She paused to cast the muffliato charm again and have a private conversation, even if they were the center of attention. “You look horrible.”

“You’re the very definition of ‘flatterer’.”

“It isn’t the time to be sarcastic, Severus. You can’t teach in this state, much less a highly explosive potion. It is a matter of safety. Draco did well by telling me you’re sick.”

“I’ve kept the class safe. There haven’t been any incidents.”

“Pure luck.”

Sick as he felt, it didn’t escape his notice how Draco bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

“Did you come to scold me in front of our students?” asked Severus.

She gave him a mischievous smile and turned to face the class after canceling the effects of the muffliato charm.

“Class dismissed.”

“But we’ve almost fi–”

She cut Pansy off, “I won’t repeat it.”

Pansy and a few students – including Hermione – pouted and sighed. The majority were happy to tidy up and go, though. Draco was part of the latter group and left as soon as Skyrah thanked him. In contrast, Harry locked eyes with Skyrah, concerned, but did as the rest of his classmates after receiving a reassuring nod. The Snapes didn’t doubt that they’d be getting a visit from him after classes.

“I don’t think you have a fever,” she said, putting her hand on Severus’s forehead. He responded by leaning into her hand. Now that no students remained in the classroom, a moment of weakness was permitted, or so he told himself. “Draco mentioned you can't stand. I’ll levitate you and bring you to the Hospital Wing, all right?”

“Don’t. My stomach… I can’t handle it.”

She slithered her palm from his forehead to his cheek. The caresses were as gentle as her voice when she said, “Why did you tell me you only had a headache this morning?”

“I didn’t feel so unwell.”

“Yet when that changed, you continued with the class.”

“Interrupting it wasn’t wise. The ingredients are expensive. Now the money plus the potions the students were brewing have gone to waste. Albus won’t be pleased.”

“You’re right. He won’t be pleased to know you prioritize money over your health. You can resume the lesson another day, Severus. Lean on me now. I’ll take you to our chambers; they’re closer than the Hospital Wing.”

Along the way, he grunted and almost fell when he tried to prove he was fine enough to walk on his own. The only reason he didn’t was that he had miraculously grabbed the arm of one of the suits of armor that decorated the corridors. Thank Merlin no students were nearby... nor Minerva. His reputation as the bat of the dungeons would have suffered. Finally, she whispered the password and the door opened for them.

“Hang on, Severus. I’ll help you get into bed.”

“No. Not yet. I think I’m going to vomit.”

She would have kissed his temple if it weren’t for the urgency in his tone. Even if clumsily, they made it to the bathroom. She helped him kneel by the toilet and rubbed his back soothingly, holding his hair for him until his stomach was empty.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breathing harshly and refusing to look at her.

“For what?”

“This has been excruciatingly embarrassing and disgusting.”

“You’ve done this for me countless times, Severus. It’s okay for the roles to be reversed now and then.” By his tense shoulders, he was thinking about the miscarriage. So was she, for her voice had shaken and her hand had drifted to the place they used to feel their unborn daughter. “Can you brush your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“All right. I’ll send Poppy a message. She shouldn’t take long.”

“There’s nothing she can do. I’ve been through this before. It’ll go away after getting some sleep. The potion must have reacted poorly to my breakfast, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” she asked worriedly, her wand ready to invoke her patronus once more.

“Absolutely.”

“All right… Do you need anything?”

“Some water, perhaps.”

So while he brushed his teeth, she summoned a glass from their kitchen and filled it with a simple aguamenti. Severus drank its water and left the glass by the sink.

Soon, he was under the silky bedsheets, surrounded by the pillows she had adjusted for him after contacting the headmaster via the school floo network to explain the situation and advise him to seek a substitute for the upcoming lessons.

“How are you feeling?” she wondered, running her hands through his bare chest. She was lying by his side, with her head on his shoulder.

“Not fine yet, but better.” Skyrah nuzzled her head into him and hooked her leg around him. “You shouldn’t get comfortable. You’ve got a class to teach.”

“I’ve got a stubborn husband to take care of.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“Too bad. I won’t move until you start snoring.”

He groaned, exasperated, though his grip on her became just a tiny bit firmer. Skyrah missed his feeble grin, too busy playing with his chest hair and kissing his scarred skin.

“I may not need you to take care of me, but I don’t dislike it.”

“I know, my snarky Potions Master,” she said, chuckling softly. If he went as far as confessing that, it could only mean he was so exhausted he could no longer control what went past his lips. “Rest now.”

He complied, thinking he owed Draco. Vomiting in front of his students would have been a fate worse than cuddling with his wife. That was a fact.

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

A/N: I probably wouldn’t have been able to post this on time if it had been betaed, so I apologize for any possible mistakes you may have encountered. I did my best.

If you liked it, you can read the main fic here: AO3, FFN.

Have a nice day, y’all! And thanks for taking the time to read this little fic :) If you’re feeling sick, remember to take care of yourself <3

#snapetober #snapetober2020 #snape fanfiction #pro snape #severus snape x oc #severus snape #draco malfoy

16 notes · View notes

vin-taege · 5 years

Text

decaf (m)

summary: taehyung was the cute barista who hated caffeine, yet worked at a coffee shop. you’re a semi-organized college student who’s always late to lectures.

genre: smut, fluff, pwp

pairing: barista!Taehyung x reader

words: 8k+

warnings: baby boy!Taehyung, femdom, accidental nudes, mentioned masturbation, pain kink, grinding, dry humping, oral sex, thigh-riding, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, degradation, newly discovered mommy kink

note: now freshly edited

Mr. Min’s history class was supposed to be five minutes ago, and the twenty-six year old with the mindset of an eighty-year old hated tardy students. However, you figured you were already late, so why not stop over at the café to pick up your breakfast (which you would also serve as your lunch)? Late nights of completing last minute essays and studying for exams due in two weeks’ time brought you closer to the staff. They’d fix you a small sandwich and a cup of coffee with just one text from you the night before.

Usually, the person in-charge of “VIP” breakfast duty was Kim Taehyung, not that he complained.

It wasn’t like the staff assigned him the task on purpose. There was no way the whole staff knew of his huge, in-depth crush on you and used this as an opportunity to bring you close together.

The bell rang lightly, alerting the arrival of a new customer. Taehyung looked up from behind the counter, almost dropping the sugar packets Jimin had asked him to find. Half of your hair was tossed up in a messy bun, the other half in tangles around your face. One backpack strap was slung over your shoulder, your fluffy hoodie underneath.

Jungkook almost groaned at the heart-eyes his co-worker made for you if it wasn’t for the long line of business men and office workers getting more impatient by the second. Jimin rushed over to Taehyung, visibly distressed with his lack of sugar packets, when he saw who the younger boy was looking at. With a sigh, he grabbed the brown paper back containing your food for the day, and shoved it against the blue-haired boy.

You have been doing this exact routine for almost two years, steadily building up your relationship with the barista. It was so refreshing seeing a friendly face outside of your usual college peers. You friends are deeply loved and appreciated, but seeing them also reminds you of the copious amount of essays all due within the same week.

“Good morning!” You have Taehyung a close-lipped smile, still a bit groggy from your late-night study session.

“H-hey, beautiful! I just re-heated your food five minutes ago, so it should still be warm. Thought you would’ve been absent today,” he handed you the paper bag, boxy smile not leaving his face. “Overslept?”

You hummed, taking in the scent of toasted bread, gouda cheese, and bacon. “Unfortunately. Mr. Min would have to endure the catastrophe of my presence being unable to grace his lecture hall,” You threw a hand dramatically over your forehead, ignoring the looks you got from the other customers. After all, you didn’t have to wait in line.

A chuckle rumbled from his throat. “Don’t forget your coffee. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”

“That feeling is correct, my good friend. I wouldn’t hold you any longer- don’t want Namjoon scolding you about professionalism again,” you waved him goodbye, exiting the café with the same light bell ring behind you.

You debated running to catch up to at least the last bits of the lecture, but your rough morning rendered your body sluggish, and you ended up walking anyway. Even when you knocked on the door, your professor gave you a pointed glare, to which you returned a sheepish smile to. Fortunately, there was still a free seat near the middle.

Half of the lecture already passed by, but you knew Seulgi would be more than happy to lend you notes. Not that she could say no to you or avoid you, since you dormed with her.

Taking the sandwich out of the paper bag, you realized Taehyung must’ve mistakenly packed two. It was risky to spend excess money on an extra sandwich, especially with rent day coming up, but looking closely into the bag, you were relieved you didn’t have to.

“On me :)” was written on a yellow post-it note, neatly placed on top of the second sandwich. Subconsciously, you smiled, taking a mental note to thank Taehyung later. Min didn’t really mind students eating in class - he did it himself. So, unabashedly, you tucked into the bacon and gouda cheese, while taking notes.

Halfway through, you caught a glimpse of a string of black ink scrawled onto the side of your coffee cup. You put your pen down and turned the cup over, revealing a phone number and a small message under it. “Text me when you’re free, beautiful.”

“___, I would appreciate it if you found my class more interesting than your coffee cup. I already took marks off you for being tardy, don’t make me do it again,” you looked up to see Min staring straight at you. Blushing, you mumbled out a small apology, though it wasn’t your professor that got you flustered, but a certain blue-haired barista.

“You gave her what?!” Taehyung was ready to rip his hair out, or even fight Jimin at the café parking lot right there, right now, maybe even both. The older barista looked at him over his phone, lollipop still in-between his lips.

“I did you a favour,” he took the candy out with a pop. “I swear, if you silently pine over her for even one more minute, Jungkook will leap over that counter and punch the glass,” he punctuated, jabbing the lollipop at the wide, glass panes of the café.

“Oh my God, she’s going to think I’m some freaky weirdo,” Taehyung muttered, head still in his hands. “Even worse, a stalker.”

Jimin was drowning out the younger one’s ramblings, opting to check his watch instead. Fifteen minutes until break was over. He looked over to Taehyung again, sighing when he still heard his panicked mumbling.

“Tae, nothing bad’s going to happen. You could just tell her I was the one who wrote it, if you want to,” he rolled his tongue over the hardened sugar, artificial coffee flavour washing over his taste buds. “I don’t think you need to though. She definitely likes you back.”

Taehyung’s eyes lit up. He immediately stopped, standing straight. “You think so? I mean, I always knew she was nice to me, but I thought she was nice to everyone, so I didn’t assume-“

“Literally everyone in the café knows about your unspoken mutual pining for each other,” He offered the lollipop to Taehyung. The younger one grimaced at the spit-covered candy and shook his head. “Funny for a person who dislikes coffee to be working in a coffee shop.”

“It has your saliva on it.”

“If it had her saliva on it, you’d bite the whole thing off in a heartbeat,” Taehyung sputtered, making the older boy smirk. “Wow, you’re into that? Kinky boy.”

“Hyung!”

Before Taehyung could further protest, he felt his phone buzz. He shot Jimin a glare before holding a finger up. Confusion, excitement, then an arrow to the heart; Taehyung jolted up, even surprising Jimin himself. “What? What is it?” he moved to glance at the younger barista’s phone, lips curling into a pleased smirk when he saw what was on the screen.

[unknown]: hi it’s ___ :)

[unknown]: thanks for the extra sandwich btw, I really appreciate it

Jimin patted him on the back, words of congratulations flowing through one ear straight out the other. He couldn’t focus on anything else aside from the two texts – both of them already making his day better.

[cutie barista dude]: hey

[cutie barista dude]: it’s Tae from the café

[cutie barista dude]: u could call me café Tae lol

[cutie barista dude]: or not

[cutie barista dude]: are u busy?

Seulgi puckered her lips, smacking them before squinting harder at the lit screen. “Oh no, honey. He’s a multi-texter. Seems like the clingy type. And ‘café Tae’, really?”

Letting out a sigh, you rolled your eyes at her. “He’s nice. He makes me breakfast almost every day, and he’s actually pretty cute.” Stunning. Awe-striking. Breath-taking. Ethereal. ‘Cute’ was an understatement for this boy’s beauty.

“Just because a man makes you scrambled eggs, doesn’t mean you automatically jump on that dick and ride it into the sunset,” you almost spit your food out, hand thumping your chest to ease the chewed lump down. Seulgi didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“I don’t even like my eggs scrambled.”

“Oh, right. You like them fertilized,” In a blink of an eye, a notebook smacked her straight in the face. A scream of frustration left her, along with whines of how long it took her to do her makeup. Before she had a chance to pry your phone of your hands, you quickly replied.

To [cute barista dude]: nope. We’re on break :)

If you could only see Taehyung now, you’d realize how much of an impact you had on him. It was the café’s dead hours, or the short time frame where there were only one or two customers in the shop, giving the staff a breather. It was during this time almost the entirety of the staff were crammed inside the cleaning closet, circling around Taehyung, and egging him on to ask you out.

And if he only saw you right now, he’d realize how much of an impact he had on you.

It was Hyuna’s threat that got him to pressed send, “Kim Taehyung, if you won’t make a move on her, I will!”

[cute barista dude]: oh, in that case, do you want to maybe hang out tonight?

This time, Seulgi raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. She hummed, drumming her fingers on the social science notebook you threw on her. “I don’t know about you, but if this boy’s as pretty as you say he is, I wouldn’t pass the opportunity up.”

It was rare whenever you listened to Seulgi, since she’s the personification of bad advice. However, she had a point; you were in dire need of a break, maybe even a boyfriend.

You typed in a small text confirming you were available, before standing up to go to your next lecture. Though you were roommates, you only shared one lecture hall with Seulgi – history. She walked next you in the hallways, still gushing about your “mini impromptu date” tonight.

“Just know that I’ll be holed up in my room all night. We have a thesis defense in three days, so if you want to take him out for a ride, don’t do it in our dorm.” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, making you laugh.

Taehyung was a nervous wreck. Maybe Jimin was right about him turning into a walking nervous system whenever he was with you. He didn’t even know what got into him, or where he got the sudden burst of confidence from.

All he knew was that it worked; because somehow, you were in his house, pressed against him, eating pizza while some surprisingly well-produced horror movie played in the background. You munched contentedly on your slice, snuggling into the warmth radiating from the lean boy.

“You know, when you said ‘hang out’, I expected like a park, or a restaurant. What I got was way better,” you smiled up at him.

Taehyung had to pretend his heart didn’t just sink, then explode back to life in a matter of milliseconds. “I was a little stumped with what movie to pick. Couldn’t choose between,” he took a glance at the DVD cover. “- El Orfanato and Your Name.”

“Your Name? Didn’t take you for a romance-anime type of guy.”

“My co-worker is. I saw it once with him, and it was really good though,” He shuffled closer to you, pulling the blanket over your bodies. You shifted in your seat, turning your body so you laid on top of him.

It was silent for a while. The only sound was the occasional Spanish from the film and your soft breathing. The fact that it wasn’t the usual rom-com or shallow-plotted movie – the usual picks for Netflix and Chill – really shed a light on how Taehyung genuinely wanted you to unwind with him, and not just get into your pants.

The movie itself was actually interesting. Knowing Taehyung was someone who had a passion for arts and photography, you didn’t expect any less from his taste.

“How did you find this film?” you murmured into his t-shirt. He shrugged, trembling fingers tapping rhythmically on your back.

“Watch Mojo list,” you threw your head back in laughter, him giggling with you.

“Heathen,” you managed to say in between breaths. “And I thought you were a man of class.”

“God forbid I actually take you out based on a Watch Mojo video. I like underrated films, the type that isn’t easy to find. I thought you might’ve wanted to take a break from cheap jumpscares and slasher gore.”

You hummed, “This is a nice change. I could get used to you taking me out.”

Red blossomed from his cheeks, heart soaring at the implication. “Oh, how convenient. I could get used to that too.” He cleared his throat, trying to meet your sparkling eyes. “Maybe I should start making you lunch too, aside from breakfast.”

“Like a date?”

The cola burned his nasal cavities, some of it spewing out his nose and mouth when he quite literally choked on it. Hurriedly, you thumped his back, voicing out your concern as he coughed his lungs out. Taehyung wished the ground would just swallow him whole. There was cola over his shirt and hands. Not to mention, half of his face was a sticky mess. He groaned, covering his face in shame.

“I’m sorry. That was very disgusting, I’m so sorry,” he sounded like he was about to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, really. Are you okay now?”

He gave a half-hearted nod. “Can we just pretend that never happened?”

You took some tissue from your bag and started wiping his face. Although it was pretty funny, you gave into him – you will never speak of the incident.

“Were you serious about going on a date with me?” he asked bashfully after an awkward period of silence.

“Why not? You’re a great guy, and I’d love to know more about the cute barista making me breakfast each morning. You know, outside your pre-established, in-depth nerd persona,” His mood was quickly lifted, though his smile still didn’t reach his eyes. “I need you to smile for me though.”

“But I am,” he whined. Admittedly, he was still embarrassed by the previous stunt he pulled. Fortunately, you could see right through him. You pounced at his sides, fingers scrambling all over his tummy. Taehyung yelped, wriggling away from you. Even though he was half your size, and can easily push you off, he decided to let you have your fun.

In the midst of trying to tickle him, you pressed your palm into his crotch, the action going unnoticed as you straddled him. Taehyung however, noticed it all too well. His eyes widened, and he begged himself not to pop a boner with you sitting right on top of him.

He couldn’t forget it, even after you’ve gone home and it was just a black screen on the TV. He couldn’t forget it even as he was cleaning up, finding himself with warm water running down his back, phone placed by the sink, the echo of a slow saxophone beat filling the room.

The heat and thoughts of your hand wrapped around him, mouth taking in his length, sent blood rushing to his head. Your scent still lingered at the back of his mind, pretty eyes looking up at him through your lashes. Jimin would tease him for jacking off just after the first date. Was it even considered a date? After all, he said ‘hang out.’

Nevertheless, he grunted as he wrapped his hand around himself. Placing a steady hand on the shower wall, he shuddered, teasing himself with slow strokes before getting faster and faster. He closed his eyes and leaned into the wall, drowning himself in the thought of you.

Taehyung let out a groan, bucking into his hand. The warm water poured heavily on him as he slowly got closer to release. Chasing his high was an easy task; his mind was filled with thoughts of you moaning as he buried himself deep in you, the way you’d whimper under him, your breathy whines. Pre-cum was steadily flowing out his dick, his fingers getting sticky from it before the water would wash it away.

He let out low grunts, breaths getting heavier. Almost there. Just as he was about to release, the buzzing of his phone cut through the music. Huffing, he thought twice whether to continue or not, but decided against it. The text might’ve been important, especially since Namjoon hinted towards a promotion last week.

Head still reeling from his self-denied orgasm, he clumsily wiped his hands on the towel, hands still slightly wet. He trudged over to the sink, fumbling with his phone. The water dripping off his hands made it difficult to press the right buttons, and after two times of accidentally exiting to the home screen, he heard a camera snap, accompanied by a flash bouncing off the mirror.

“Shit.”

Taehyung put his phone down, thoroughly wiping his hands off this time. As soon as he deemed them dry enough, he checked his messages – only to come close to fainting.

To [Goddess]: photo sent

The picture was slightly blurry, but clear enough to make out what was going on in it. It was a mirror selfie. The flash did a good job of covering his face and most of his shoulders, but not too much of his lower body. His dick, still hard and even redder then before, stood against his stomach, water still dripping off his body.

To [Goddess]: I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do that I swear im not a creep please don’t hate me I fully understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore or if you want to break up with me im so sorry oh my god

To [Goddess]: I mean I assume we’re already together-together?? I don’t know, then again, im so sorry please ignore that picture forever

[Goddess]: seen

Fuck.

He really was the unluckiest guy in the world. The relationship started quickly and ended quickly, all because of a nude. He didn’t even know if he could face you tomorrow when you pick your breakfast up. Fuck indeed.

On your end, it was definitely a surprise. Shocking? Yes. Unexpected? Definitely – you never would’ve anticipated it from Taehyung. However, unwanted? No. Hard no. As hard as his dick.

He was mouth-watering, a true monster by the sheer size and girth. Your cheeks heated up, tongue flicking over your lips. You clenched your thighs together, trying to seek friction under your flimsy shorts.

You had been snuggled up in bed, a good night text just sent to your possible future boyfriend when he had sent you this gem. You would’ve felt bad for him, the frenzied texts sent immediately after making your heart melt, but you were way too turned on to reply.

The thoughts of his large hands roaming your body, cupping your breasts, distracted you. The thought of him being the dominant one was worth contemplating - if he was, then you’d have no problem switching from time to time. You wanted to ride him, slide down that enormous length. If it looked that big in picture, you couldn’t even imagine its size in the flesh.

You went to sleep that night tired from the pillow humping, but extremely satisfied with your orgasm. If you only knew Taehyung didn’t get to reach his own, you would’ve laughed; all good things are worth waiting for. You couldn’t wait to have your way with him – he was a strong baby boy, you could tell just from how pliant he was when it came to you.

The reply you typed out was forgotten and left unsent.

There was no trace of Taehyung the next day. Jungkook was the one to hand over your breakfast, much to your disappointment. No offense to him – you had a soft spot for the kid – but you really wnted to see your starry-eyed boy today.

“Hey where’s Tae?”

Jungkook gave you an uneasy look. Nervously, he glanced towards the back of the room, where the kitchen was. Through the large connecting window, you could see a mop of blue hair weaving in between the metal stands.

“He’s on kitchen duty,” he blurted out, snapping your attention back to him. “I mean, he’s not here. He’s sick. Ask Jimin!”

With that, he chucked the coffee stirrers under the counter and scrambled off. Just as he stepped foot into the kitchen, Jimin went out, mid-yawn in a flour-smeared apron. You smashed the service bell repeatedly. Thank God the café had less people in the morning on Saturdays.

Jimin shot you an exasperated look, begrudgingly trudging over to you. He gave you his best “Employee of the Month” smile. “How may I help you?”

“May I speak to one of your employees at the back?”

“Taehyung is on kitchen duty.”

“Jimin, we both know Taehyung can’t even boil an egg,” you hissed, leaning farther on the counter, your nose almost touching his. Jimin bit his lip – you were right. Why did they even come up with that stupid excuse?

“Okay, fine. As far as I know, he’s beyond humiliated. He thinks you hate him. Ever since this morning, the only thing he’s been talking about is how much he hates his dick.”

You didn’t know whether your heart melted or ached for him. Men, in one way or another, can be adorably stupid and naïve. You tongued your cheek, considering your options. There was the choice of storming in the kitchen right there, right now, to confront Taehyung personally; but you didn’t want that going down your student record, especially since vacation’s just a month away. You muttered a quick thank you, turning to walk back to your dorm.

To [baby boy]: Meet me after your shift. I’ll be staying at my usual spot. Don’t even think of avoiding me.

Five minutes until the end of his shift, and here Taehyung was; in the bathroom, washing his hands for what will be the fourth time. He was practicing what he was going to say to you, apart from giving himself a tiny pep talk in an attempt to boost his confidence.

Your last text glared at him from the screen. An overwhelming feeling of déjà vu hit him when he found himself in front of the bathroom sink, staring at the mirror again. Three loud knocks on the door made him flinch.

“Lover boy, your girl’s been waiting for you for about two hours now,” Jimin’s voice rang through the other side of the door.

“Just a minute,” The mere thought of him seeing you again just after he sent an unsolicited dick pic made him shiver. Lost in his cluttered thoughts, he didn’t even notice he left the door unlocked.

Jimin pushed open the door, letting out an exasperated sigh when he saw Taehyung looking blankly into the mirror. “For God’s sake, man up and just get it over with.”

When he saw the younger boy’s shoulders slump further, his gaze softened. He didn’t really take Taehyung’s situation seriously, not until he saw how much it upset him.

“Hey,” he walked closer, nudging the tan boy’s elbow. “If she really hated you, she would’ve left an hour ago.”

Taehyung scoffed, though a small smile played on his lips, encouraging Jimin to continue. “We both know ___. If anything, she might’ve thought it was a bit funny. Hell, she might’ve liked it.”

“Hyung!” he was flustered beyond relief, delivering hit upon hit to the older boy. “Don’t say that about her!”

“Just go out there, okay? Sort things out with her.”

He came out in a white undershirt he wore under the cafe’s light beige, long-sleeved uniform. You were down to your third croissant and fourth coffee when he spotted you. The nearer he got, the more he saw cluttered papers spread on he desk, the one you’re working on decorated with different highlighters. Blue for people, yellow for terms, green for dates - you had told him your color legends back then.

The chair was dragged back, making you flinch in surprise. Taehyung, despite his height, seemed to shrink in his seat. His hands were folded neatly on his lap; you didn’t have to peek under the table to know his legs were spread wide, thick things just barely fitting on the chair space.

You slid the pastry over to him, capped the highlighter, and melted back into your seat. Your bones let out a satisfying crack when you stretched; Taehyung was right about taking breaks in between study sessions.

“Hey,” he offered, picking up a fork to lightly stab at the croissant.

“Are you avoiding me?” His wide eyes met yours, eyebrows knit together. He resorted to lightly scraping at the side of the plate instead.

“Don’t you find it weird?”

“Find what weird?”

“I don’t know. Maybe how you saw my... thing just hours ago, and now we’re here, pretending everything’s perfectly normal. Don’t you hate me? I literally acted like a fuckboy.”

You snorted, throwing your head back in laughter. He just stared at you in confusion. “No, what the hell? You are the opposite of a fuck boy. And you sent about ten apology texts right after. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“So you’re not mad?” He leaned forward, mouth brought into a pout. Pinching his cheek lovingly, you chuckled.

“No. We can just pretend it never happened,” You winked, quoting his words from the cola incident. He quickly recognized them, groaning from more embarrassment.

“Why do you do this to me?” he moaned, but didn’t pull away from your touch. “Is this the karma I get because of that WatchMojo list?”

“You did get it from a WatchMojo list!” you gasped, chucking him a highlighter - which he caught with no problem. “Talk about top ten anime betrayals.”

The atmosphere seemed to relax after that. Taehyung finally began eating the croissant, much to your doting. He sat up straight in his chair, compelled by the need to impress you, while also giving out a “no big deal” attitude.

The conversation shifted to your current situation at university. You couldn’t resist telling him about your history professor - Mr. Min and his seemingly endless collection of ties, plus rumors of his friends-with-benefits relationship with Mr. Jung, the biology teacher in the next building.

“Wait but, oh my God, I think he’s actually cool? We were going to watch a film for the whole period, and he accidentally clicked on the wrong thing. And guess what?”

“What?” Taehyung’s eyes were wide like a kid’s in a toy shop.

“It was his mixtape! I swear it was! The guy rapping sounded exactly like him.”

“No way! Isn’t this guy, what, thirty?” He crinkled his nose in disbelief. You waved him to move closer. getting your phone out to show him the video evidence you secretly took. Even if you filmed the whole thing in plain sight, Mr. Min would’ve been too busy frantically pulling every extension cord to notice.

Scrolling through your gallery with Taehyung by your side, you froze, spotting a fresh, all too familiar picture just before the video. You skipped a beat, before swiftly tapping on the video, careful not to tap the nude you saved. Hopefully, Taehyung didn’t see it, the singular picture sitting among other pictures of lectures and notes.

You pretended to concentrate hard on the video, as if it was the most interesting thing you’ve ever watched. Taehyung leaned closer, his broad chest pressing against a part of your back. You could feel his breath fanning over your neck, the feeling doubling each time he laughed. In a way, it assured you he didn’t see anything. You sunk back into him, trying to get more comfortable.

“He isn’t bad,” he murmured. From the black spaces on the screen, you met his brown eyes, a sultry look hiding behind the mischievous crinkles. You gulped, nervousness starting to crawl its way back in.

As soon as the video stopped, you locked your phone and shoved it back in your bag. “I just remembered, we actually have a test tomorrow so I better go-”

“Can I come with you?” You stared at Taehyung, mouth hung open. He had a serious expression on, emotions unreadable behind his piercing gaze. “I could help you review.”

“That... wouldn’t be necessary. I could really do it myself. Plus, you look tired and I think you should re-”

“No. I insist,” His lips curled into a smile, almost daring. He leaned closer, lips just centimeters away from your ear. “I think we need to talk some more.”

The ding of the elevator signaled you it was already your floor. Thank God Seulgi was out for a group project tonight. The history test was partly a lie; you definitely remembered, but had already reviewed. Miraculously, you managed to get your sleep schedule under control, while also studying everything you needed to study. Taehyung would be proud.

Speaking of, he has now claimed his spot on your couch, less than gracefully plopping down. At least he had the decency to leave his shoes neatly by the coat rack.

“So, what’s your topic?” You laid your notebooks down on the table, the post-it notes wedged between the pages almost falling out. You set the table up first, Taehyung’s question dissolving into thin air. Instead, he resorted to flipping through some of the pages, gnawing on his lips with each bit of information he took in.

“That’s a lot,” His whisper didn’t leave unnoticed. You perked up, flashing him a mocking grin. “I thought you said you insisted?”

Immediately, his face burned red, resembling that of a child whenever he throws a tantrum. “I did! It’s just a lot, okay? Even I don’t take this much notes. How many pens do you go through in a day?”

You rolled your eyes, picked up your self-made flashcards - which really were just small, index cards scrawled on with gel pen - and handed them to Taehyung. “Quiz me with dates first, then we’ll work our way through important people and events.”

He fumbled with the cards for a while, taking a brief glance on each of them, before straightening them out and facing the “answer” sides of the cards away from you. “Great Depression?”

Your pace in answering was pretty quick, so in order to trick him into thinking you’ve just memorized it, you had to slow down, throw a few “uhm’s” and “hm’s”. There were times you’d get a question wrong on purpose to make the act more believable.

Slowing down the pace wasn’t too difficult too. He was so distracting, in a way. He couldn’t be doing anything and he’d still be the most attractive person in the room. His hair fell lightly by his brows, cheeks full and glowing like his sun-kissed skin. The shirt he wore was a size too large for him, the neckline dipping just above his chest, showing his parts of his collarbones.

The mass of index cards was thinning out when a particular question snapped you out of your daze.

“What was that picture in your gallery?” Taehyung’s eyes were trained on you, the flashcards still in his hand. You prayed you weren’t blushing right now.

“What picture?”

“The picture. You know what I’m talking about,” His serious expression slowly cracked, a smile coming through, along with a darkening gaze in his eyes. “You saved the picture I sent, didn’t you?”

Before you could think twice about it, you had chucked him a pillow, Taehyung effortlessly dodging it. “No! No, I didn’t! What the hell, Tae?”

Instead, his grin grew wider. He threw the cards on the table, and began crawling near you. You shuffled farther back into the couch, one of the armrests eventually hitting your back. He had you pinned down.

“I saw it, ___. Don’t even deny it,” He licked his lips, the stupid smirk still on his face. “You liked the picture, didn’t you, ___?”

His voice was low, eyes piercing into your very soul. Instead of replying, you slipped a hand around his nape, bringing him closer then smashing your lips together. His lips felt like cotton on yours, and you treated them as such, licking the soft flesh to ask for permission.

He parted his lips, granting you access. You let yourself explore the cavern of his mouth, engaging his tongue in a battle of dominance. Naturally, he let you win. You drew back for a split second, only to say, “Little brat.”

You heard him snicker, before connecting your lips once more. You wrapped a leg around his waist, bringing him closer to you. Your hands busied themselves by tangling them in his hair. In all the haze of the steamy kiss, you felt him growing under his pants.

You pressed your foot more forcefully against him, making his crotch press into yours. The uncomfortableness of his jeans could be felt by how hard his cock was straining against it. You wrapped your other leg around him, then brought your lower half up, grinding straight into his erection.

He groaned into the kiss, pulling away only to focus on your neck. He left a trail of love bites, hues of purple and blue, coming from your jawline to the base of your neck. You continued grinding into him, with slow, hard rolls of your hips. His head lolled downwards, slotting into the curve of your neck. His increasingly heavy pants could be heard, no matter how hard he tried to conceal them under the guise of nipping on your neck.

A light sheen of sweat was starting to cover you. The leather of the couch felt sticky on your skin, but it felt too good to pull away from. You allowed yourself to let out only a few long, groans, careful not to show him how much you’re loving this.

Your panties already felt soaked. The button of his jeans would get caught in the thin material of your shorts, rubbing against your clit. You jerked into him, borderline humping his boner.

Somehow, you still had your presence of mind, and you had to remind yourself to calm down. Shakily planting your feet on any flat surface you could feel, you pulled your hips away from him, eliciting a whine from the boy.

“You look uncomfortable there, sweetheart,” you said, hands working to unbuckle his belt. You took it off, unbuttoning his jeans too. Instead of releasing him already, you slid your hand in his boxers, squeezing the rock-hard length lightly. He screwed his eyes shut, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

Your other hand pushed at his chest, steering him into a new position. He sat on the couch, feet planted on the ground while your straddled him. You brought your hips down again, his boxers being the only material separating you from his cock.

“Help me get this off, baby,” You murmured, about to shrug your shirt off. He shed you off the material at once, flinging it to the side. Then, he started grabbing at your shorts, running his hands around your ass too. With two, swift tugs, your shorts were pooling at you knees.

As soon as he got them off, he grabbed at your hips, forcing you to grind on his clothed cock again. You slid one of your hands from his hair, touching the broad expanse of his chest, his toned stomach, until you reached his boxers. You slipped your hand, fingers wrapping around his cock, making him gasp into your mouth.

You gave him a couple light strokes, before pressing your hand flat against the head of his cock, then digging your palm into him. He threw his head back in a groan, grip getting looser on your hips until he was back in his original position, head buried in your neck.

The room felt hotter, more humid even. Taehyung’s hair began to stick to his forehead the more he leaned into your touch. The picture wasn’t lying to - even without seeing him yet, you already knew he was big. His girth alone made it difficult for you to wrap your fingers around the entirety of him.

Each jerk of his hips into your palm sent more pre-cum dripping out his cock. You angled your hand a little so that you could thumb lightly at his slit, spreading the pre-cum over the head. He was leaking so much that a wet patch started to form on his boxers. You knew the wet fabric sticking to his skin might make him uncomfortable, but you waited before making him take it off. You wanted him to suffer for a bit.

After letting him grind himself into your palm, you switched tactics and instead, gripped the base of his cock, jerking him off rapidly. His whines sent shivers down your spine, made you gush more into your already ruined panties.

More pre-cum dripped down his cock, coating his entire length. It was easy for you to tug on his cock, but you didn’t want to make him come yet. You retracted your hand, wiping off the slick on his sweat-covered chest. “Take it off.”

He almost fell off the couch in his eagerness to get the fabric off. By the time he did, the mess in his pants was on full display. His cock sprung into his stomach, twitching when air hit it. There was pre-cum reaching until the top of his thighs, smeared all over the area surrounding his dick.

“Do you want me to clean that up for you?” You purred into his ear. A choked sob made its way out of his abused lips while he profusely nodded. “Sit properly, my messy baby.”

Taehyung got off you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide. You placed yourself on the floor, kneeling before him. With one hand, you grasped his leaking cock, licking a strip from his balls up to the tip. He sighed out in relief when you licked the tip, before taking in the head of his cock.

You sucked hard on his cock, the bitter taste of pre-cum filling your taste buds. He shuddered at the feeling of your warm mouth around him, tongue pressing firmly against his cock. A sudden jerk of his hips sent his cock hitting the back of your throat.

Gagging, you slapped the inside of his thigh harshly. He whined, murmuring a quick apology. You rolled your eyes at him, sinking farther down his cock, until your nose nestled between his fine hairs.

You trailed your nails down his thighs, trying your best to relax your throat. Taehyung was taking in big gulps of breath, arousal flooding him when he saw you innocently looking back at him. “Baby, can I fuck your mouth?”

You hummed in approval, guiding his hands to your hair. With a tight grip, he pushed your head firmly against his pubic bone, before holding you in place and thrusting deep into your mouth.

He hit the back of your throat each time he bucked his hips towards you. His head was thrown back, swimming in pleasure. A wanton of moans filled the room, along with your lewd gagging. His fingertips burned at your scalp, grip so tight his knuckles turned white.

Desire coursed through your veins. You could faintly feel your essence dripping down your thighs, your fingers itching to insert themselves into your throbbing pussy. However, you wanted to focus on the writhing boy in front of you for now.

He felt so big - was so big. You could feel him down your throat, cock squeezing through the tight confines. Saliva trailed down your mouth as you dig your nails into the soft flesh of his thighs.

“Ah! A-ah fuck! You feel so good,” His thrusts were turning sloppy, the need to come burning at the pit of his stomach. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to hold his release, chest heaving slowly, a pleading look in his eyes once he stared down at you. “Can I, please?”

In response, you swallowed around him, sending him headfirst into his orgasm. Hot spurts of his cum shot down your throat, the rest falling on your lips when he pulled out. You coughed a little, before licking your lips and swallowing the remaining drops of his cum. Finally, you released your grip from his thighs, admiring the red marks left on the tan skin.

His thighs were still quivering, breath shaky. Taehyung was still reeling from his orgasm, giving you an opportunity to sit yourself on his thighs, hands placed on his chest. “Hm, this looks like a nice spot.”

Taehyung didn’t have time to respond before he felt your hot mouth on his chest, sucking and nibbling on the skin. He whined, but placed his hands on your ass nonetheless. Once you were satisfied, you pulled away to admire your work - a purplish mark sitting nicely above his collarbone.

“You didn’t get to cum,” He pouted almost cutely at you. Chuckling, you re-positioned yourself so you were sitting with his thigh between your legs. You brought your hips down, clit brushing against his thigh. “Don’t worry, I will.”

With his strength gradually coming back, he flexed his thigh, providing you a firmer surface to grind on. Your arousal coated his thigh, making it easier to buck your hips into him. His hands were still on your ass, helping you ride his thighs.

You brought your lips against his again, puling him in for an open-mouthed kiss. You moaned into his mouth, his tongue finding its way into yours.

Suddenly, you gasped; Taehyung slipped two fingers into your wet pussy, arching the long digits to rub against your g-spot. You groaned, increasing your pace and begun bouncing up and down his thigh.

He thrust his fingers in, reaching spots so deep inside you, shooting sparks through you. One of your legs brushed his already hardening cock, making him flinch in overstimulation. The action caused him to draw his thigh away, cutting you off from your pleasure.

Abruptly, you stopped. You tugged his head back and forced his jaw open, spitting inside his mouth. He swallowed it immediately, big eyes looking back at you in arousal and slight fear. “Stay still or else I’ll grind my foot into your pathetic little cocklet.”

The movement was fast, just from the corner of your eye, but you caught it. His dick had twitched. The moment you put two-on-two together, you smirked down at him. He bit hard down his bottom lip, relishing your words.

Of course you didn’t mean it. Obviously, he was nowhere near having a cocklet, but his reaction pushed you to kept going. If he wanted to feel small, you’ll make him feel small. “Dumb baby. The only thing you know is to fuck, right? Can’t even control your fucking cock. Much less stay still for me. You’re just such a needy bitch, huh?”

This time, he let out a long groan. Tears threatened to fall from the corners of his eyes. He was babbling, didn’t have enough presence of mind to form a coherent sentence. “Mouth... My mouth- baby- pl-please. C-Cum.”

“You have to use your big boy words, honey.”

He took a deep breath, mouth slack for a few moments. A strained moan made its way through his lips. “P-Please cum on my face?”

“You have to try better than that,” You sighed, feigning indifference. With another whine, he said, “Please, mommy, please cum on my face. I want mommy to feel good. I want to taste mommy please.”

“Lie on the floor.”

He scrambled on his feet, in a rush to lie down on the cold, hard surface. He grimaced at first when the cool marble hit his skin, but all discomfort he had melted off when you settled both knees on either side of his head. You knelt facing his cock. “Use your mouth.”

You lowered your hips, letting your pussy meet his lips. He lapped at your wetness, licking in between your labia, underneath your clit. He latched his lips onto the sensitive nub, sucking hard on it. His hands were wrapped around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

Your hands clutched at his hair. You could feel the coil in your stomach about to snap, with only one strong lick from his skillful mouth pushing you over the edge.

You cried out, thighs spasming, clenching his head against your pussy. You leaned over, grasping his cock and tugging on it harshly. He jerked away from your touch, but your grip was strong. He choked on his sobs as you milked his cock, a smaller amount of cum spurting out his dick.

You slumped down next to him, both of you panting hard. Taehyung’s tears were freely flowing, every part of him a mess. Some of your cum was still scattered over his face, his cum equally a mess on his thighs and on your hand. His hair was in tangles, lips red from how much you abused them.

“You’re very scary and mean during sex,” He said in a small voice, though his tone was teasing. You looked at him, a small smile on his face. “I liked it.”

You chuckled, gaining your breath back. “Hey,” you touched his forearm. “Let’s go to my room, okay? There’s a proper bed there you can lie down on.”

After you got him a glass of water, you ran a bath in the small tub you had. The bathroom that came with the dorm was small, but one of the only ones that had a tub in it. It was easy to say it was one of your most prized possessions. You mixed the last of your bubble bath formula in, and went back to fetch Taehyung.

When you got to him, he was huddled under the blankets. Light snores came from his still figure. You nudged him lightly, shaking him awake. “Baby? The bath’s ready.”

He looked groggily up you before nodding. You held his arm, supporting some of his weight.

He sighed in relief once the warm water touched his skin. You placed yourself in front of him, leaning onto his chest. You both closed your eyes, feeling yourself relax more in the bath, with each other. You were pressed closely to him, his arms around you.

“I didn’t go too far, or anything?” You murmured. You were honestly worried you did because he was in such a haze when you were walking him towards the bathroom.

He hummed, sending vibrations at the top of your head. “It was amazing, promise. You were amazing. And it felt really good.”

“Thank God. I thought I might’ve scared away my potential boyfriend,” He let out deep chuckle, chest rumbling.

“I’m not that easy to get rid off, baby. Wait- I’m your boyfriend now? Am I?” His face lit up, mouth in his signature boxy smile. You nodded your head, sporting a wide grin of your own. He did a little fist pump before taking your cheeks in his hands and peppering them with kisses. “I love you so much.”

The morning after, Jimin noticed an unusual glow emqanating from Taehyung. He had the same love-dovey look on his face, only amped up by a hundred. He left his things at the locker room, humming a small song as he smoothed out his uniform.

“You look especially... dreamy today,” Jimin said to him, two macchiatos in his hand. He shrugged, continuing to work the coffee machines. “I guess you worked things out with ___?”

“Things worked out very well for us,” He set the coffee cups on the tray, along with a some pasta and a sandwich. He picked the tray up, smiling back at Jimin. “You could say did she liked the picture.”

It was one of the rare days you didn’t wake up late. Taehyung had prepared you breakfast while you got ready, and you left for university and work together. Seulgi was, thankfully, still not at home, but she sent you text saying she spent the night over at her group mate’s house.

If Taehyung remembered it correctly, you were supposed to have History by now. He smiled, knowing you’ll effortlessly ace the exam - thanks to his help of course.

He finished drying the rest of the plates when his phone buzzed. He excused himself to the employee’s washroom before unlocking it to see a message from you.

It looked like you were in a bathroom stall. You were wearing your shirt, but your nipples were visibly peeking through the material, stretched ridiculously tight over your boobs. “Thinking of you. Finished the test early.” Your next messaged read.

He gulped. He may not be getting the Employee of the Month award after all, not with how much time he is about to spend in the washroom.

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bangtan smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung #kim taehyung #bts #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bangtan scenarios #bts imagines #bts au #bts v

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star-gaz3rs · 5 years

Text

Bookworm [Akira Kurusu x Tutor!Reader]

A/N: Why hello there! This is my first time ever writing an x reader, so I hope it isn’t too horrible. I’ve checked it over a few times for spelling and grammar errors, but there is always something that is going to get past me so I apologize in advance for that.

In a lot of x reader stories Akira/Ren is often the one helping reader-chan study, so I thought it would be rather interesting to see a story where the reader is the tutor for once. After all, it would make sense that Akira/Ren would be behind on lessons since he transferred to Shujin partway through the year.

I’ll be referring to Akira/Ren as Akira in this fic simply because I prefer that name.

also i headcanon that akira’s eyes are red just like in the all out attack so don’t @ me okay thanks enjoy

[Word Count: 1,256]

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

“Shut up.” That got their attention. “Some of us are actually trying to pay attention in class since exams are next week, so shut up and listen,” you seethed at your classmates, careful to whisper so your teacher didn’t hear. Truth be told, you couldn’t give a crap about your upcoming exam for this class, already having a near perfect grade. However, if you had to hear one more word about the transfer student sitting next to you, you were going to lose it. It’s not like he’s the only person to participate in shady behavior at this school, but you guess it only mattered to them if you got caught for it. Looking back to your notes, you sighed to yourself contentedly, not hearing the classmates to your right gossiping anymore. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched, however...

As the school bell rang and you gathered your belongings, you still felt eyes on you. Glancing around briefly, you only see a couple of your classmates grouping up together and the transfer student scribbling notes into a… diary? Journal? You weren’t really sure, but the feeling of uneasiness still came over you even after looking around for the source and finding nothing. Picking up your bag and swinging it around your shoulder, you began to head to your tutoring session in the library. After all, you needed the cash, and it was the best studying you were going to do for the exams anyway. And hey, maybe that feeling would go away.

It didn’t. You sat in the library with your tutee, who was furiously scribbling down the notes you had just given him about his essay performance. Even after moving locations, you still felt like you were being followed. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as you looked around however, except for… the transfer student? It seemed he was in the library as well, which was a bit of a shock to you. Still, it made sense, as many new faces showed up when exams loomed closely. Attempting to brush off the feeling, you looked back to your classmate and began to correct his work.

Before you knew it, it was already 5. ‘Time to head home,’ you thought to yourself with a quiet sigh. ‘Maybe I should play some video games tonight, or finish that book…’ you debated to yourself quietly when you felt the sensation of unease hit you again. There was no mistaking the feeling, you were definitely being followed. Picking up your pace slightly, you began to walk through the now empty hallways, attempting to find someone else so you wouldn’t feel so alone. You didn’t get too far in your search when suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder. You nearly screamed at the touch and whipped around, ready to sock someone in the face.

“Sorry. Did I scare you?” your “assailant” chuckled slightly as he removed his hand from your shoulder and adjusted his glasses. A slight smirk seemed to flash across his face for a moment at the thought, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed. Did he really feel that smug about startling you?

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous,” you retorted a bit harshly, holding your bag closer to you and looking the boy in front of you up and down. A tall stature, lanky frame, messy black hair, and round rimmed glasses that nearly hid his crimson eyes from view completely. He almost looked like a nerd. You mentally scoffed at that thought. Although he didn’t have the appearance of a delinquent, you had still heard the rumors and while you weren’t going to participate in their harassment, you weren’t really planning on speaking to him either. “Anyways, what do you want? I need to get home,” you replied a bit coldly, hoping to end this conversation quickly.

“Am I holding you up? Sorry,” he replied with what seemed to be a rather genuine tone. “I just didn’t think you’d want to be seen with me earlier.”

So he’s the one that was following you? That… was slightly unnerving. Maybe he really was a delinquent. Oh crap, was he a delinquent? You could die! ...well, maybe not that far, but still, he could be dangerous. Should you run for it? Yell for help?

“I just wanted to thank you.”

Your thoughts of panic shattered at that sentiment. “W-what?” you replied, cursing yourself for stuttering.

“You know, for saying something earlier.” He began to rub the back of his neck and he looked a bit flustered as well. He quickly gained his composure again, however, unlike you.

“O-oh, of course,” you managed to stutter out again, completely unsure of what to say to him. Sure, you wanted to help out a little bit, but you never expected him to take an apology this far. After all, he had waited hours after school had ended before even approaching you because of his concern for your reputation, and you didn’t even know his name. That was… surprisingly kind of him.

“Oh, and, it’s Akira,” he responded, seeming to notice the confusion in your eyes. You however, only continued to stare blankly at him. “My name? It’s Akira Kurusu,” he elaborated.

That made more sense. “I see. Well it’s… nice to finally talk to you, Kurusu,” you responded, attempting to calm your nerves with the casualness of the statement.

“Akira. You can call me Akira,” Akira gave you a small grin and pushed his glasses up his nose again.

“Oh, sorry, Akira,” you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed to be calling him by his first name so quickly. You had spoken one time and he already wanted you to be on a first name basis? What an interesting boy.

“You’re a tutor though, right?” Akira asked. His head tilted ever so slightly in order to get a better look at your face, as you were beginning to look away from him, having a hard time making eye contact.

“Y-yeah.” your usually calm and slightly snarky demeanour was beginning to fall apart after thinking more about his insistence for you to call him Akira.

“That’s cool. You must be pretty smart to be able to do that,” the compliments rolled off his tongue nonchalantly. “Mind teaching me sometime before exams? I haven’t caught up on this school’s lessons.”

“U-um, sure, I wouldn’t mind…” your voice was becoming quieter and quieter with every word, and you were really struggling keeping eye contact with him at this point. Most people thought you were quite pretentious to be offering tutoring, it wasn’t often you heard such a genuine compliment. In fact, you heard jabs at you so often you had developed quite the icy personality. So why was Akira being so nice?

Akira gave you a small nod at your agreement, looking quite pleased to have found someone willing to teach him. “Well, I don’t want to hold you up anymore. I’ll see you around, bookworm.” He smirked at your reaction to the nickname, noticing the way your hands began to fidget with the strap on your bag.

“Y-yeah, I’ll see you,” you replied, still contemplating what he had just said. Bookworm? The name itself wasn’t that nice, but the way he said it made you feel… dizzy. You didn’t even realize he had left the hallway, or wait, did he leave the hallway? You weren’t quite sure. One thing you were sure of though, was that the light blush on your cheeks wasn’t going away anytime soon.

#persona 5 #akira kurusu #akira x reader #p5 protagonist #p5 protagonist x reader #reader insert #fanfic

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nikatyler · 4 years

Photo

My evening just took an unexpected turn because the friend I crushed on in kindergarten and elementary school and briefly in high school (long story) just texted me and I’m freaking out and my best friend and I are trying to figure out if it’s destiny or just coincidence. I smell inspiration for a legacy storyline. Just saying. Lol anyway...

I just wanted to do replies again. And I know I might have said that I would reply directly under the posts like everyone else but to be fair, I really do like this format more.

fataleromeo replied to your photoset “Sunset: “So…are you sure they’ll keep quiet after this?” Dawn:...”

Lol she has a bit of her father in her after all ��

Yeahhh...just a little bit...nothing to worry about haha

dandylion240 replied to your photoset “I’m not mad at you for wanting to live forever. Everyone with a...”

I kind of like the idea ��

tiny-tany-thaanos replied to your photoset “I’m not mad at you for wanting to live forever. Everyone with a...”

they are... beautiful

I love them together ;-;

I keep playing with this idea. I love it, I actually developed it even further, deeper into Caleb’s past actually, but that’s a story for another day. At the same time, I’m asking myself if it isn’t too much. I don’t know. Not that I hate the idea of soulmates, but wouldn’t this be too cheesy?

elisabettasims replied to your post “hey there! how's life with new (okay maybe not that new) hairstyle is...”

I went super short for the first time in years earlier this year and LOVE it. It's shaved on the sides (but a longer shave, not bare skin) and a little longer on top. I also dye my hair fun colors. It's currently fall shades of reds, oranges and some yellow. The sides are not dyed.

Omg that sounds so fun! I would love to do that too. But with how things are developing, I’m most likely going to end up with badly bleached hair and/or badly cut bangs sooner or later...I’m fairly sure I’ll be THAT girl...

fataleromeo replied to your photoset “If you followed me on Twitter and remember my rants where I defended...”

Lol not gonna lie, i never liked caleb's original hair. �� He's been out of it a long time in my game lolol (but then, he's over 200 in the story he's in). Though I might have once said he was embarrassed by his old fashioned sense ��

la-simulacio replied to your photoset “If you followed me on Twitter and remember my rants where I defended...”

I love the thought you put into this! Change his hair if you like. You're allowed to change your mind!

autistichatkid replied to your photoset “If you followed me on Twitter and remember my rants where I defended...”

i like 4 and 5 the best!!!

Yeah I put WAY too much thought into this lol

Anyway, yeah, to be fair, I’ve never liked this hair either. I never put it on any sims. But I like it on him. It’s just...him. But now, with how far I am in the NSB, I think he has to be sick of it :D I mean, I let my hair grow long for like three years and I got sick of it, he’s had this for what, over a hundred years technically?? The change is inevitable.

And yes, I’ll probably be deciding between 4 and 5. They’re the best.

fataleromeo replied to your post “The sim I always think of when I think of you is Ross. Usually him and...”

Ahh the problems following up an iconic generation, how well I'm learning these struggles.....

It’s very hard to top it. It happened to me in both my big legacies. The yellow gen was fun, but when I look at it...it just won’t be as cool as the rose gen. I have hopes for the grey gen though. Things might be a little wilder here...which is exactly what I like. Chaos. Pure chaos. *evil laughter*

fataleromeo replied to your photoset “Dawn: “What do you think you’re doing?” Sunset: “I just went to space...”

Ok, stop doing this! You're making me very nervous!

Stop doing what? 😇

plushpixels replied to your post “List 5 facts about your most favorite Sim of yours and send this to 10...”

I really like your alien baby canon, it's an interesting view ��

Thanks! I tried to keep it short, so I hope it somewhat still makes sense.

tashsim replied to your post “Sure, breaking down to tears sucks, but I have the opposite problem...”

hey, so sorry u had a hard time. Know the feeling exactly, remember my classes during the first year at uni, cried during classes, exams, etc. And used to be overdramatic about it, when it's not. I mean, you feel things, and that's fine. ... forgot where I was going with this. just wanted to cheer you up and say that I feel u on that ��

Thank you...this week really was the worst so far. I’m starting to feel like I made a mistake and that I don’t belong here. It’s not so bad during the Czech classes (well...I do feel stupid after every Theory of Literature and I have no idea how to write the assigned essay but that’s the least of my problems), but the History ones...I love history, but I’m finding out that I don’t know that much about it and it makes me wonder how the hell did I get here. What happened that they accepted me. I thought I was a history nerd, but there are people who are SO into it, I’m nothing compared to them. They know so much, it almost makes you think they were there to live through those times they’re talking about. I thought that was the kind of knowledge we would get here. Clearly not. And now...idk. I’m kind of paralyzed now. I want to catch up, but I can’t. Yay.

Sorry to be so negative, I just need to vent. I’m not doing too great.

dandylion240 replied to your post “Which one of my legacies is your favourite?”

I love all your legacies but my heart belongs to the Roses. At least with Tyler and Caleb’s generation. I think that’s when I started following you. I fell in love with them��

Thank you ;-; ♥ This is so sweet. They have a special place in my heart too. (I mean, that’s already obvious.) I’m glad I’m not the only one. I can’t get over them and I don’t even want to.

fataleromeo replied to your photoset “Family goals: When your dad suddenly forms out of thin air in front of...”

Omg why is this just so him ��

Right? :D I know I just stared at him and thought the same thing.

dandylion240 replied to your photoset “Sunset: “I’d lie if I said I’m not happy to see you. What happened to...”

He can always go back to red

That is...correct. 👀

#replies #fataleromeo #dandylion240 #tiny-tany-thaanos #elisabettasims #la-simulacio #autistichatkid #plushpixels #tashsim

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jungkooksxo · 6 years

Text

caramel macchiato

pairing: namjoon x reader genre: fluff fluff fluff, and some angst, but mostly fluff words: 8k warnings: descriptions of anxiety and a panic attack. other than that it’s pretty clean. be careful if reading about having anxiety gives you anxiety! summary: you are a frequent guest at the cafe near your apartment, trying to get over your anxiety when it comes to ordering your drinks. the barista that works there helps you a lot, but then one day he attempts to get closer...

“I would like one iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel please.”

You felt the dread creeping under your skin, your heart pounding as the line moved, bringing you another inch closer to the register.

“I would like. One iced caramel macchiato. With extra caramel, please.”

The soft chime of the register made your heart race and your palms sweat, with your teeth firmly set to shredding your bottom lip. You continued to rehearse in your head.

“Hello! I am fine, thank you. I would like one iced caramel macchiato, with extra caramel please!”

“Next in line!”

You froze. Your eyes met the eyes of the boy behind the counter, and he gave you a soft smile, his dimples popping out.

“Hello, how are you?” he asked, and your heart climbed into your throat, making you swallow nervously.

“U-Um.” your voice shook, your head swimming as the panic began to creep up your spine. “F...Fine.”

“Glad to hear it! What can I get for you, miss?”

His voice was calm and even, just as smooth as the scent of the coffee that filled the air. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, your gaze fixed on his nametag as you screamed at yourself to stop having a panic attack over ordering a stupid cup of coffee.

“I-I want...C-Can I get one...c-caramel…” your voice drifted off and tears blurred your vision, your brain yelling at you to get a grip, to calm the fuck down, it’s just fucking coffee-!

“Caramel macchiato?” he asked, his voice quieter as he leaned over the counter slightly. You blinked at him, then nodded vigorously, and he smiled again. “Iced or hot?”

“I-Iced,” you supplied, and he smiled again, putting the order into the register and picking up a medium cup, and you realized you didn’t even tell him what size, he just somehow magically knew what size you wanted. Your heart skipped another few beats as you realized. “Um!” you said loudly, then covered your mouth in embarrassment. He looked back at you, blinking in confusion.

“Is there something else you’d like, miss?” he asked, and you swallowed before lowering your hand.

“Extra...extra caramel, please.” you murmured, and the boy smiled again, and you really could not get over those dimples, they were perfect.

“Sure! Your total is three fifteen.”

You blinked, then scrambled through your purse, and you swore you heard the man behind you huff out an irritated sigh, and you hunched your shoulders, quickly wrenching out a five dollar bill and handing it to the barista, then quickly moving away from the register and going to the other side where the drinks were served.

“Miss, your change!” the boy called, and you shook your head, keeping your gaze glued to the floor. “Oh. Thank you!” you nodded, hunching your shoulders and folding your arms, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

You hated doing things like this. You had tried to tell yourself that it would be fine, that you could go in, order your stupid drink, then leave. You had rehearsed in your head so many times, too, and you still fucked up.

It was made worse by the fact that the barista that worked here was ridiculously attractive. His dimples killed you every single time he smiled at you. He was always so patient, and he always helped you whenever you went to the register when he was working. His coworkers didn’t seem to have the same sort of patience as he did, always asking you to repeat yourself. They never did it in a mean way, but every time you walked out with your drink (that was usually wrong) while you furiously rubbed away embarrassed tears.

“Iced caramel macchiato, with extra caramel!” your head shot up and you skittered to the counter, and the other barista (Taehyung, his name tag read) gave you a boxy grin as he handed you your drink. “Have a good day!” you nodded, then skittered away, moving towards the free table in the back near the big window, and you sat down, looking at your correct drink. You felt a little wash of pride go down your spine, making you smile to yourself. You opened your straw, sticking it in your drink with an unpleasant plastic squeak, taking a sip.

It was perfect.

You sighed happily, then reached into your bag, pulling out your laptop and your headphones.

You always came at the end of the morning rush, when there were less customers so you could work on some homework and not have to worry too much if other people were staring at you. It also got super quiet and you were usually one of the few people who would sit inside the little cafe, when you did stay inside. When you stayed, it was the days that your drink had been made correctly.

You pulled up your essay you had been working on, and got to work. You spent about thirty minutes working, when it happened.

It, being the barista moving from the register, and making his way over to you.

You at first thought it was a mistake when you glanced up and saw him moving towards you. You looked behind you to see nobody sitting at any of the surrounding tables, and panic began to take over when you turned back to meet his gaze, his beautiful smiling popping back up on his beautiful face.

You were going to do something embarrassing.

He came to a stop at your table, his hands behind his back and his smile still in place. You ripped out your headphones, meeting his gaze then quickly dropping it back down to your drink, shrinking in on yourself.

“Hello,” he greeted sweetly, and you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, giving him a nervous smile back. “Um, sorry to bother you, and to be so forward. Um. Do you mind if I sit here for a moment?”

You looked over to the chair across from you, then realized that he didn’t want to sit with you. He wanted the table.

“O-Oh, I-I’m sorry!” you blurted, slamming your laptop shut, “I-I can find a different spot! A-Actually, I have class soon, I-I should go anyways! I-I’m sorry, sorry-!”

“Oh, no you don’t have to move!” The barista assured you, putting a hand on your laptop so you couldn’t pick it up. You looked back up at him, your heart skipping five more beats as you were met by that gorgeous smile. “I-I wanted...to sit with you. Just for a minute?” he paused, then added, “Please?”

You blinked, your lips parting in surprise. You quickly clamped your lips shut and nodded shakily, glancing at his nametag, reading the name, then just as quickly forgetting it.

“Thank you.” he pulled out the chair and sat across from you, and you stared down at his hands folded on the tabletop, curling up your body to make yourself as small as possible.

“Um…” you began softly, your hair falling over your face. “Th...Thank you…” you murmured, clutching the material of your hoodie tightly.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, leaning a little closer, and you cursed yourself for talking so softly.

“Th-Thank you,” you said, a little louder this time, “For...helping me. With my order.”

“Oh!” he giggled, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s nothing! You just...you seemed kinda nervous, so I wanted to help.”

You wanted to laugh bitterly at the comment, but instead you tuck your hair behind your ear again, biting your lip.

“You always help me, though…” you muttered, glancing back up at him. He was staring at you, his chin resting in one of his palms, and you were suddenly struck by him. You finally took his appearance in close up. You were realizing all sorts of new things now that you weren’t staring at the floor or at his name tag and never memorizing his name because your brain was screeching with anxiety. He had his hair dyed a lovely, deep purple, swept up and off to the side slightly. His nose was pierced, a little stud resting on his left nostril, and a lip ring nestled in the middle of his plush bottom lip. The black sleeves of his uniform were rolled up to his elbows, revealing tattoos. He had a lot of tattoos. You couldn’t even register what they were, because your brain went into overdrive.

Oh my God, he was really hot.

He was really hot, and sitting across from you, smiling at you, with dimples indenting his cheeks and his eyes sparkling and you were going to die! You were going to die in this cafe and your paper was due this Friday but you wouldn’t be able to turn it in because you were dying-!

“Do you like music?” his voice broke you out of your death spiral, making you jump slightly. “You wear your headphones a lot when you’re here, so I was just wondering…”

You stared at him, dumbstruck, then for a minute your brain fed you the idea that maybe he wasn’t really talking to you. There was no way someone like this was talking to you. You turned slightly, then chanced a glance behind you again, still finding no one else sitting in the area with you. It was just you and the cute barista. When you looked back at him, he had a bit of a confused look on his face, but tilted his head and waited for your answer.

“...Yeah…” you said, growing suspicious. “I...I like music.”

“Great! I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come to one of my shows?” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping a bit on his screen before turning and showing you the flyer. “My friends and I are in a band, and I would really love it if you could come and watch!”

You briefly skimmed over the flyer, knowing for a fact that you didn’t have shit to do that day, but your mouth was already speaking for you.

“S-Sorry...I have something going on that day…” you rubbed your arm, and his lower lip jutted out in a pout.

“Really? You wouldn’t be able to squeeze us in?” he tried again, tilting his head and giving you a kicked puppy look. You just knew your face was a bright red at this point, and you squeezed yourself a little smaller, biting at your lip again.

“I-I don’t think so...thank you...for the offer…” you mumbled, and the barista groaned in disappointment.

“Damn, I knew I should have asked you sooner!” he sighed, “Do you think I could send you the flyer? Just in case? You never know, you could become free and be able to come!” he smiled again, and you licked your lips nervously.

“Like...email?” you asked, and Namjoon hummed.

“I could just text it to you...If that’s okay?” he asked, and you looked up from the table, meeting his gaze again.

“You…” you furrowed your brow, “You’re asking for my number?”

“If that’s okay…” he said again, running a hand through his hair nervously and laughing. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to!”

You blinked again, looking down at your laptop. Your mind weighed the pros and cons, and the barista shifted nervously. You moved your hand slowly, reaching into your hoodie pocket and pulling out your phone. You unlocked it, then slowly handed him your phone, meeting his eyes again for a split second before looking back down at the table. He gently took your phone, tapping the screen a few times, then handing it back to you just as gently as he took it from you.

Your screen was opened on a new text message screen, the name “Namjoon” typed in the contact area with a purple heart emoji next to it, as well as the grape emoji. He had sent himself the purple heart emoji so he would have your number as well.

“Thanks! Um…what should I save you as in my phone?”

You softly told him your name, and he smiled again, typing in your name and showing you the chat he had open for you. He had typed your name and put a bear emoji next to your name, as well as the sparkle emoji.

“For your chain.” he explained, pointing to your tiny Rilakkuma phone strap dangling happily from your phone. You were suddenly embarrassed by how childish it seemed, and Namjoon smiled wider. “It’s cute! I think my little sister has one just like that.” He messed around on his phone again, and your phone buzzed in your hand, making you jump. You saw the flyer Namjoon had shown you before, and you looked back up at him. “If you can make it, just let me know! And if you ever need anything, I’m a text message away!” He looked at his phone again, then made a choked noise, “Oh shit, my break is over. I’ll see you around! Hope to see you at the show!”

Namjoon quickly stood from the table then made his way back behind the counter, and you stared down at your phone, the chat with Namjoon still open. You blinked, then carefully locked your phone, stuffing it back into your pocket. You quickly gathered your things, grabbing your drink, and rushing out of the cafe.

“What the fuck just happened?” you muttered to yourself, practically sprinting back to your apartment.

-x-

You avoided the cafe. There was no way you could go back after what had transpired. You had briefly debated on running away, transferring schools and changing your name, but you decided that was a little too dramatic.

So you just decided that you could never return to the cafe, no matter how delicious their drinks were.

You spent the morning brewing your own coffee and watering your plants, making a mental checklist of the things you needed to do on your day off. You needed to go grocery shopping, for one. While you were lost in your thoughts, stirring your coffee, your phone went off on the counter. You flipped it so the screen was facing up, freezing when you saw the notification.

Namjoon 💜🍇

hey!!! I was just texting to see if ur able to come tonight…?

You stared at your phone, your jaw dropped and your heart thudding in your chest.

“He probably just texted the wrong person!” you laughed, brushing it off, “I’ll just ignore it, it’s fine. This is fine.”

Your phone went off again.

Namjoon 💜🍇

please say yes!!! u haven’t been to the cafe in a while, so i wanted to see you again…

You let out a noise that vaguely resembled a dying seal, putting your phone down and crouching to the floor. He was going to kill you. He was actively attempting to end your life by embarrassing you. You jumped when your phone went off a third time, and you looked at the chat.

Namjoon 💜🍇

also, do u like dogs??? i wanna send u this cute pic of my dog rap mon!!! but if ur afraid of dogs, i won’t send it. rap mon is kind of a bitch but he’s rly cute and i think u would like him!!!

You felt overwhelmed. Who just sends three texts in a row? When someone doesn’t reply? Is this what people do when they don’t have crippling anxiety? You bit your lip and began texting your reply.

You

Hi! I don’t know if i can make it tonight. I’m sorry. Also, I love dogs!

You hit send. Talking was always a little easier for you via text. You had time to think about what you wanted to say, you could always edit yourself, and it took a little pressure off of you. You blinked when a picture of a tiny white dog appeared in your chat.

“Oooh, look at the babyyy,” you blubbered, opening the picture and staring at the little white dog, your heart melting. “He’s like a little baby polar bear. I love him so much...I would die for him!”

Namjoon 💜🍇

he’s the best!!! i gave him some bacon and he absolutely lost it. we usually go for walks in the park when it’s nice out!!! u should join us sometime!!! :)

You stared at the message, wondering if you had the courage to pick up a dog and steal it from someone. You shook your head, you couldn’t do that to someone as sweet as Namjoon. You also weren’t sure if you could go for a walk with someone as beautiful as he is. You were too shy, too anxious, even if you did want to pet and cuddle Rap Mon for a whole week without pause.

You

Maybe...I can’t make any promises though.

Namjoon💜🍇

ahhh ur killing me!!! do u ever have free time??? i wanna hang out with u!!! or at least come back to the cafe so i can make u a drink!!! and talk with u on my break. please??? :’(((

Your heart skipped another beat. There was no way you could misinterpret this. But there had to be some sort of gimmick, a loophole. There was no way that someone like Namjoon wanted to hang out with you.

You walked out of your apartment and went immediately to your neighbor, knocking on his door and waiting while clutching your phone.

“Good morning!” Jimin greeted, “You’re over earlier than usual. What happened?”

You shoved your phone to him, the chat with Namjoon open.

“Is he making fun of me?” you blurted, and Jimin scrunched his nose, looking over the text messages before giving you a playful grin.

“You gave a boy your number?” He asked, and you felt your cheeks heating up. “And he texted you? And you texted him back?”

“Jimin,” you whined, hiding your face in your hands, and Jimin shook you by your shoulders.

“This is amazing! This is such a big step, I’m so proud of you!” he grinned at you, his eyes sparkling, “The person I met a year ago would have never been able to do something like this! You’re doing amazing! And you’ve been going to the cafe and ordering drinks on your own?! That is so awesome and you should be so proud of yourself!” You felt your lips tug into a wobbly grin, and you looked down at the floor.

“I-It’s nothing…” you mumbled, and Jimin made a noise that sounded like the incorrect buzzer on a game show.

“BZZT! Nope! Wrong! Try again!” Jimin demanded, and you bit your lip.

“I...did a good job.” You said, and Jimin cheered, pulling you in for a hug.

“You did! You did an awesome job!” He reaffirmed, then pulled away, holding up your phone. “That being said, this dude is not making fun of you. He looks like he’s genuinely interested in you.”

“Um.” You frowned, “But that’s not...possible.”

“Why not? You’re a nice, cute, sweet girl. What’s not to like?” You glared at him, about to go down the list of what was not to like about you when your phone went off again.

You choked when it was a selfie of Namjoon with Rap Mon, Namjoon pouting sadly and Rap Mon’s eyes looking off somewhere else.

Namjoon💜🍇

pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease :’(((

“This is why this is not possible,” You hissed, showing Jimin the selfie, “He is ridiculously hot. Like, amazingly attractive. There is no way someone like this could be in any way interested in me.”

“Hey,” Jimin said softly, placing his hands on your shoulder, “Don’t ever say that. Nobody is ever out of your league, so don’t ever say that. Okay?” You swallowed, wanting to protest, to say it’s not that simple, but Jimin gently pushed your phone back into your hand with an encouraging smile. “Give him a chance. He’s really trying here! It’s almost a little sad how desperate he looks.”

You looked back down at the chat, Namjoon’s sad pout looking back at you. You looked back up at Jimin.

“Are you busy tonight?”

-x-

You had decided to leave your going to the show as a surprise. Jimin said he would be so pleased that you were able to show up even though you didn’t let him know. You spent the rest of the day panicking, Jimin helping you pick out an outfit to wear to the bar they were playing in, as well as helping you with your hair and makeup. You complained the whole time, not used to wearing makeup at all, and Jimin just smiled at you, pride bursting out of him like sunbeams.

You two were ready for the show, dressed in somewhat grungy clothes, Jimin opting for a leather jacket over a white shirt and ripped jeans. You had a similar look; ripped black skinny jeans, a My Chemical Romance t-shirt from your middle school days that somehow still fit, and a jean jacket put over top. You felt a little out of your element, trading outfits like this for comfortable leggings and giant hoodies that drowned your form. You wanted to be as invisible as possible, and this outfit, hair, and makeup were anything but.

“You look amazing! I guess I did learn a thing or two from the makeup artists for my shows.” Jimin gave himself a pat on the back, and you blushed, tempted to rub your eye, but you didn’t want to mess up your mascara.

“Thank you…” you muttered, and Jimin gave you an encouraging pat on the back, the two of you making sure you had your IDs and phones before leaving the apartment.

You desperately clutched onto Jimin’s arm, keeping your gaze down so nobody would bother the two of you while you made your way to the bar, which ended up being within walking distance.

“If it gets to be too much let me know, okay? We’ll leave as soon as you say the word.” Jimin reassured you when the bar came into view, and you nodded, your heart pounding. You felt faint as the bouncer checked your IDs, placing a blue star stamp on your right hands before gesturing you inside.

It was loud, and crowded, two of your least favorite things about being in public. You held onto Jimin’s arm as he made his way to a table towards the back, but close to the door in case you guys needed to escape. He asked you if you wanted a drink and you shook your head, scanning the crowd and finally looking towards the stage.

It was small, and you saw a short man with platinum blonde hair working with cords and wires, gesturing to another man with bright red hair and a 1000 kilowatt smile, who was laughing at something the other said. The blonde man grinned, his gums showing and the light bouncing off the septum piercing in his nose.

“Everyone here is attractive as fuck. What the hell.” You nodded at Jimin’s comment, glancing around at all the colorful hair and facial piercings. Jimin told you to hang onto the table and ran to the bar, buying himself a beer and getting you a water. While he was gone you tried to make yourself as small as you could, fiddling on your phone so nobody would bother you.

But, of course, someone bothered you.

“Hey babe, what’s going on?”

Your head shot up to see a big, burly dude grinning at you, his eyebrow pierced and his hair greased off to one side. You immediately looked down to the floor, your heart racing and a panic attack creeping up.

“Hey, don’t be shy. I don’t bite. Much.” He laughed loudly as you shrunk further in on yourself, the man moving closer, “What’s your name, babe?”

“Hello, sweetheart!” Jimin’s voice broke through your haze, and you immediately felt relief flood your system, Jimin smiling sweetly at the new comer, “I’m sorry, do you have business with my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” The man snorted, looking back at you and gesturing at Jimin with his thumb, “You’re dating this fairy?”

“This fairy has a black belt, so unless you want to get flipped onto your fat ass, I suggest you go back to whatever sewer you came from and fuck off.” Jimin said with a bright smile, and the dude held his hands up in defeat.

“I ain’t fucking with a black belt. My sister has one of those and she’s scary as fuck. Have a good night, enjoy the show.” He walked away and Jimin continued to smile.

“I don’t have a black belt.” He said with a shrug, sipping his beer and moving back to your side. You guys observed the rest of the crew getting ready, then you saw him.

Namjoon looked as radiant as ever, fiddling with an amp as he stuck his tongue out. He had ditched his barista uniform for a Iron Maiden muscle tank top, showing off his tattooed arms, and a pair of ripped black skinny jeans and combat boots.

“Oooh, I see him! Your boy toy. He looks good. Nice tattoos.” Jimin commented, throwing his arm around your shoulder and giving another dude walking up to you guys a pointed look. You bit your lip as you watched him continue to set up his guitar, testing the strings. Another man just as tall as Namjoon came on stage, shaggy brown hair and lips so plump they looked like pillows. He had his eyebrow pierced, and his neck was decorated with ornate flowers, wearing a jean vest and tight leather pants, his arms littered with different tattoos. The blonde man with the septum got behind the drum set, hitting a few of the snares to get a feel for the sound. The last member of the band hopped on stage, a younger man with shaggy black hair and a lip ring in the same place Namjoon had his. Jimin let out a low whistle when the man took the mic. “Who is he? And when is he gonna leak his leg routine? His thighs are huge.”

“You say this like your thighs aren’t huge.” You spoke up, and Jimin laughed, hiding his face in your neck. The band was finally ready, and with the counting of the blonde’s drum sticks, they began.

You were blown away by their music. The lead singer had amazing vocal range, and Namjoon was amazing on guitar. They were all having the time of their life on stage, bouncing around and making the crowd jump as well. You and Jimin opted to sway back and forth to the beat, your eyes glued to Namjoon.

He was grinning, mouthing along to the words of their song, which you would have to ask him about later, because it was really good. The song finished, and the lead singer took the mic again with a grin.

“How you guys doing out there tonight?” He asked, and the crowd cheered, making the man grin. “Good. We are The Bulletproof Boy Scouts! My name is Jungkook, I am your lead vocalist tonight.” The crowd cheered, and a girl shrieked that she wanted to suck his dick. Jungkook immediately floundered, his face turning bright red. Namjoon laughed, moving in to the mic and taking over.

“I am Namjoon, guitarist. Seokjin is on bass, and Yoongi is on drums. Once again, we are The Bulletproof Boy Scouts. Enjoy this cover of Sugar, We’re Going Down before we get into more original stuff!” He let the mic go and the crowd roared, you giving a little whoop of excitement.

They played it perfectly, the whole bar screaming along with Jungkook, including you and Jimin. The concert was fun, The Bulletproof Boy Scouts playing a few original songs and a few covers. You were so enamored with Namjoon’s playing and stage presence. He was having so much fun playing the guitar with his friends, grinning and laughing, and you wished you could be that carefree. Your body was filled with an extra energy you were too self conscious to let out, feeling a little jealous of Jimin, who was fist bumping and jumping along with the beat without a care in the world. You laughed, looking back to the stage to watch the boys finish off their set. They bid everyone good night, and the bar mostly cleared out, leaving behind a good handful of people to continue drinking and chatting. You stayed with Jimin to wait for Namjoon to notice you, grinning all the while.

Namjoon was cleaning up cords and putting away the bands stuff, still laughing and grinning with his bandmates. He was just about finished when it happened.

It, being a girl running up to him and throwing her arms around him.

You heart dropped, the grin falling from your face as Namjoon caught her, laughing all the while. You began to tune everything out, your vision blurring as tears filled your eyes.

“Hey,” Jimin began softly, and you grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket.

“I wanna go,” You whimpered, “I wanna go home.”

As soon as Jimin led you towards the exit, you heard an excited shout of your name, turning to see Namjoon pushing through the crowd to get to you.

“Home,” You choked out desperately, and Jimin wrapped a protective arm around you as the two of you exited the bar. You heard another shout of your name, but you ignored it, clenching your eyes shut and letting your tears fall.

-x-

Namjoon💜🍇

y did u leave??? was that ur boyfriend with u???

Namjoon💜🍇

i wanted to talk to you...are you coming to the cafe soon???

Namjoon💜🍇

why are you ignoring me???

Namjoon💜🍇

hello????????

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest, and you silently turned your phone over so you wouldn’t have to see the unread messages. You turned over in your bed, pulling the blanket over your head and closing your eyes.

It was pathetic, you knew. But it still hurt. You had taken Jimin’s advice to give Namjoon a chance, and he was with another girl. A part of you knew deep down that Namjoon would never go for someone like you.

“Who would like a girl who can’t even order a coffee?” You muttered to yourself.

You sighed, no tears left in your system to cry. You decided to get out of bed because your plants needed to be watered. You put on some comfy shorts and a big sweater, tugging your hair up into a messy bun. You rubbed your eye tiredly and made your way to the kitchen, getting your watering can filled up and making your way around your apartment, watering your various potted plants and flowers.

You finally made your way to your tiny balcony, smiling when you felt the sun shine down on you. It felt a little healing, like the sun giving you a pat on the back and telling you that you were going to be okay. You hummed quietly as you watered your beautiful foliage, gently petting their leaves and cooing encouraging words to them.

“You’ve grown so much!” you exclaimed to your fern plant, gently stroking its leaves, “You’re so beautiful. Keep up the good work.”

You stood up from your crouch, watering your geraniums, and you heard someone shout your name.

You jumped, water splashing out of your watering can as you saw him. Namjoon was on the sidewalk below your apartment, Rap Mon on a leash sniffing a tree. He waved at you, giving you a nervous smile, and you blinked.

Then you slowly crouched down, hiding behind your ridiculous amount of potted plants, ignoring Namjoon’s desperate call of your name. You quickly scuttled back into your apartment, closing the door to the balcony, tears you thought you were done crying coming back.

You choked out a sob, hiding your face in your hands. You wished you could tell him off. You wished you could turn around, open your door, and tell him that he was a jerk and how dare he string you along like that, and to never contact you again. You wanted to throw your watering can at him. You stood up, a sudden wash of anger going through you, making you see red. You stormed to your kitchen, grabbing a napkin and running it under some water, squeezing it into a ball. Your phone was ringing on your coffee table, but you ignored it, stomping back over to the balcony, slamming open the door.

Namjoon called your name in relief, putting his phone down.

“Please talk to me!” He said desperately, “What happened at the concert?! Did you like it?!”

You glowered at him, your limbs shaking in fear as you lifted the wet napkin, aiming before squeezing your eyes shut and chucking it at him.

You heard it make impact with a wet smack, peeking an eye open to see you missed your mark, Rap Mon sniffing at the napkin curiously and Namjoon pouting at you.

“So you didn’t like the concert?” He asked, and you tried desperately to chill the anxious shakes over your body, clutching at the balcony while your knees knocked together.

“Y-Y-You’re a j-jerk!” You choked out, and Namjoon made a noise of confusion.

“What did I do?! Can I please talk to you? Will you come down and let me talk to you?” He called up, and you shook your head vigorously.

“No!” You shouted, and you wanted to go back inside after that, but your limbs were shaking so bad and your anxiety peaked. You should have just stayed inside, this was a terrible idea, and now you were having a panic attack.

You stumbled back with all your willpower, Namjoon’s shouts of your names drowning out with the pounding in your ears. You slammed the door shut, taking deep shaky breaths to try and calm yourself down. You slid down to the floor, your heart pounding so fast you thought you were going to die. You glanced around, tears rushing from your eyes, and you finally found your phone, reaching for it with trembling hands. You ignored all the missed calls and texts from Namjoon, immediately calling Jimin.

“Hello?” He answered, and you made a garbled noise that sounded vaguely like his name. “I’m coming right now, just hang on.” He said firmly, and you immediately dropped the phone, your breathing still erratic and tears still falling.

You briefly wondered where Jimin was, until you heard loud arguing (and barking) outside your house.

“No, you don’t get to see her! Just get out! I don’t know who buzzed you in but you are not allowed in here!” You heard Jimin shout, and your heart clenched when you heard who was arguing with him.

“She was obviously having a panic attack!” Namjoon argued, Rap Mon barking in agreement, “My little sister has them, I know what to do to help-“

“You’re the one that caused it!” Jimin screeched, “Just leave! She’s probably getting worse and you keep standing here-!”

You heard lower tones, Rap Mon no longer barking. Then heard Jimin sigh, muttering something before he came into your apartment, quickly shutting the door and rushing over to you.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Jimin began, reaching for your hands for him to hold tightly. Your eavesdropping did manage to distract you for a minute, your heart rate slowing down a bit, and Jimin’s presence helped you calm down even more. You clutched his hands and let out a shaky breath. “There you go. Just like we always do, okay? Try to breathe for me.” And you did, just like always. Jimin’s presence in times like this alone was calming, soothing, and you let go of his hands to gently wrap your shaky arms around his neck, Jimin giving you a squeeze. “You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.” You let out a big sigh, your heart rate slowing down to a normal rate, the deep breaths you were taking bringing oxygen to clear your head.

“Thank you,” you whispered, still hugging him. “He’s outside, isn’t he?”

“He wants to talk to you.” Jimin said softly, “He said he wouldn’t leave until you let him. If you don’t want to talk to him I’ll make him leave, but either way I’m going to be here the whole time, okay?”

“I threw a wet napkin at him and called him a jerk,” You whined, hiding your face in Jimin’s neck. “I-I don’t know...maybe it’s not a good idea…”

“Do you want to talk to him?” Jimin asked, and you thought about it. A part of you did, just to hear him out, so you can let him know to never contact you again. The other, more embarrassed part of you, didn’t want to talk because for fuck’s sake you threw a balled up, wet napkin at him because you were mad at him. You felt childish, and like you needed to apologize. You found yourself nodding at Jimin, and he nodded as well. “Okay. I’m here for you. If you need me to take over, I will.” You nodded, and the two of you stood up, you wiping your face free of tears and snot.

You went to the door, taking a deep breath before opening your front door.

Rap Mon immediately waltzed in, pawing at your legs and yapping happily, demanding attention. You smiled, immediately kneeling down and giving him the attention he was seeking, forgetting about Namjoon.

“Hello!” You cooed, “Such a handsome boy. Hello, Rap Mon!” You presses a loud kiss to his forehead, scratching under his chin and giggling as his tail wagged excitedly. You were thrown out of your reverie by Namjoon’s chuckles, and you looked up at him. He was smiling fondly at you, his lip ring glinting in the light.

“Cute,” He mumbled, and you blushed, quickly standing up and hiding your hands behind your back. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yes,” You murmured, shifting to the side to let him inside, “I’m better now.” You closed the door as soon as Namjoon was inside. “I...Sorry I...threw…”

“Ah, no problem.” Namjoon ran his hand through his hair, giving you a nervous grin, “You gave me enough time to dodge, so it’s cool.”

You nodded, your cheeks heating up. You both stood in awkward silence for a moment before Namjoon finally spoke up again.

“So...is he, like...um. Your boyfriend?” he asked, gesturing to Jimin who you could see sitting on the couch, facing away from the two of you, but keeping his ears perked to your conversation. He looked over to you, giving you a nod to indicate that you could lie and say he was your boyfriend to protect yourself. You bit your lip, fiddling with the ends of your sleeves.

“He...Um.” you frowned, then turned the attention to him, “D-Do you have a g...girl...friend…?” you voice trailed off, and you stared down at Rap Mon, who was looking around curiously and panting happily, without a care in the world.

“What?” Namjoon seemed caught off guard, but laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, “No, I don’t have a girlfriend…” You furrowed your brow, looking at him with doubt. He raised an eyebrow, pursing his lips. “Why are you looking at me like I’m lying?”

“...At the concert…” you mumbled, looking back down at the ground, “You...w-with another...girl…” your voice got quieter, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. “I saw you…”

It was quiet for a moment, your heart picking up speed as Namjoon seemed to rack his brain for what exactly happened at the concert, scratching his head.

“I was with a girl?” he asked, and you felt yourself getting mad again, a hot wash of embarrassment going down your spine. You were getting ready to explode again, to kick him out of your apartment for making a fool of you, and Namjoon made a noise of realization, “Oh! Yes! Towards the end, I was with a girl!” You glared at him, and he held up his hands sheepishly, “The one I hugged, right? That was my sister!”

Your eyes widened, and you felt embarrassment wash down your spine again, your face flushing hotly. His sheepish smile suddenly went sly, and he leaned in a little closer to you, making you back up slightly, unable to meet his gaze.

“Were you, perhaps...jealous?” he said in a low voice, and you made a noise of mortification, hiding your face in your sweater sleeves. Namjoon laughed, gently touching your hands, and you allowed him to pull them down, showing your bright red face. You met his gaze, finally, and gave you one of his beautiful smiles, his dimples indenting his cheeks. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I would never ask a girl for her number if I was already seeing someone else.” You blinked, and Namjoon continued, “The reason I asked for your number was...well, I wanted...You always come into the cafe, and you always…” he seemed to be struggling to find the right words to say, and he gave your hands a squeeze, “You always struggle with your order. Every time. Sometimes if I’m not at the register, I’ve seen you leave near tears. Yet you still come back, and you still keep trying to order drinks.” he gave you another smile, “And I really admire that. Despite having anxiety, and having trouble ordering, you keep coming back, and you keep trying.”

You looked at him in awe, blinking rapidly. Your mouth open and closed like a fish, trying to find words to say.

“Because-!” you began, clenching your fists, Namjoon’s hands still gently wrapped around your wrists, “...I keep coming back...because…” You swallowed, “Because you would help me...you’re always s-so patient with me...it helped a lot…” you looked up at him shyly, seeing his cheeks take on a pink hue, “I thought that...maybe one day...I’d be able to order a drink...without stumbling o-or feeling like my heart was gonna beat out of my chest…” you smiled a little, “A-And I thought...maybe, with your help...it could happen...one day. Maybe.”

You two fell into silence again, and you glanced up at him again, his cheeks having gone from a light pink to a brilliant red, and he let one of your wrists go, the other hand still holding on. He covered his face shyly and let out a laugh.

“Cute,” he whined, laughing again, “You’re really, really cute.”

Your face heated up to match Namjoon’s bright red cheeks, and you two couldn’t look at each other for a minute. You used your hand that wasn’t being held by Namjoon to cover your own face, and jumped when you heard a loud sigh.

“Welp,” Jimin interrupted, standing up from the couch, “I suppose it is time for me to take my leave.” He walked towards the door, fixing Namjoon with a suspicious glare, “I’ve got my eye on you though. If you do anything to hurt her, I swear I will beat the shit out of you and steal your dog.” Namjoon nodded, and you gave Jimin a grateful smile. He returned your smile before moving in for a hug. “I’m proud of you.” He whispered, and pulled away with another smile. With one last wave to the both of you, Jimin exited your apartment, leaving you alone with Namjoon and Rap Mon.

“So...he’s not your boyfriend?” Namjoon asked, and you giggled, shaking your head.

“No. Jimin is just my best friend.” You explained, and Namjoon nodded in approval, a silly little smile on his face.

“Oh. Cool.” The two of you stood in silence again, before Namjoon broke it, “Sooo...like...are you gonna be coming back to the cafe any time soon?” You blinked, then shrugged, biting back the large grin that threatened to split your face.

“I mean...maybe...I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.” Namjoon groaned, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze.

“You’re killin’ me here!” He whined, “Please come back! Or at least let me take you on a date sometime. I’ve missed seeing you.” Your eyes widened, and you looked up at him, his hand running through his hair nervously. Your cheeks were still warm, and you glanced down at Rap Mon, who had taken to sniffing all your shoes near the front door. You tilted your head, then gave Namjoon a shy smile.

“Um...Are you free now?” you asked, and Namjoon looked at you with wide eyes.

“Uh? I mean! Yeah! Yeah, yeah, I’m...I’m totally free right now.” he stammered, and you giggled.

“Well...I mean. If you give me a couple minutes…to get ready.” You glanced down at your outfit, suddenly feeling embarrassed for being in your sloppy clothes, “Maybe...we could just go on a walk?” you rubbed your arm, looking back up at Namjoon, who was grinning excitedly.

“Totally! Yeah! That...yeah, that’s cool! We can wait for you. Take as long as you need.”

You nodded, grinning happily as you made your way to your room to get ready. You laughed to yourself when you heard Namjoon hissing ‘yes!’ in victory, and Rap Mon yapping in agreement.

-x-

“I would like one vanilla latte, please.”

Your heart was racing. You thought this would get easier with time, but you still felt anxious, your palms sweating as you got closer to the counter.

“One vanilla latte, please. Thank you.”

“Next in line!”

You grinned excitedly when you saw the familiar mop of purple hair, Namjoon looking from the register to you, his eyes brightening and a large grin splitting his face when he saw you.

“Hey!” he placed his elbows on the counter, putting his chin in his palms as he leaned towards you, staring at you like you put all the stars in the night sky, “What brings you here, beautiful?”

“Namjoon,” you giggled, your cheeks flushing hotter and your heart racing faster. “I came to get something.”

“What will you have?” Namjoon asked, tilting his head. You blinked, looking up at the menu.

“Um…” you looked back at Namjoon, who was still staring at you. “I...um. One…” your gaze flickered to his lips, and his tongue flicked out to wet them, his lip ring glinting in the light. “I-I…” you pouted, giving Namjoon a pleading look, “Can you stop?! I can’t order when you’re staring at me like that!”

“Like what?” Namjoon pouted back, and before you could answer, his coworker spoke up.

“Like a lovesick puppy. Seriously, hyung, it’s kind of gross.” Taehyung rolled his eyes. You blushed hotly, and Namjoon cooed at you, reaching out to poke your cheek.

“Cuuute,” he gushed, “Cute cute cute. You’re so cute.”

“Namjoon!” you whined, hiding your face in your hands, and Namjoon laughed.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What would you like, my darling?”

“Vanilla latte, please.” you mumbled, pulling out a five dollar bill. He put in the order, grabbing a cup and writing the order on it. You moved to the other counter, waiting patiently as Namjoon made your drink for you.

Taehyung had glanced over from where he was cleaning some equipment, but did a double take, giving Namjoon an unimpressed look.

“Really, hyung?” he asked, and Namjoon simply smiled, his dimples making your heart flutter. He brought you your drink a few seconds later, handing you the cup with pride.

“Vanilla latte!” he chirped, and you smiled, taking the cup. You paused, looking at the scribbles on the side of the cup.

‘Call me sometime! ;)’ Namjoon had written, followed by his phone number. You looked up at him, mortified, and Namjoon laughed, making your cheeks flush bright red once again.

“Namjoon!” you laughed, “I-I already have your number, you dork!”

“Does that mean you’ll call me, cutie?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, trying so hard to glare at him, but you couldn’t hold back your smile.

“You’re such a nerd,” you muttered, and Namjoon continued to grin, gesturing you closer to the counter. You moved in, looking up at him curiously. He leaned over the counter, taking your chin in his hand and pulling you in. He gently pressed his lips against yours, making your eyes widen and your heart skipping several beats. Before you could reciprocate, Namjoon pulled away, laughing at your stunned expression.

“I love you.” he murmured, and you looked down at the floor, smiling bashfully.

“I-I love you, too,” you replied softly, fiddling with the lid of your cup. “I’ll call you when I get out of class.”

“Good luck!” he pressed another kiss to your forehead and you giggled, waving goodbye to the two baristas and walking out with your vanilla latte, unable to stop smiling.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Namjoon💜🍇

U ORDERED UR DRINK WITHOUT STAMMERING OR PANICKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Your eyes widened as you realized, your smiling threatening to split your face in half.

Namjoon 💜🍇

I’M SO PROUD OF U BBY I LOVE U SO MUCH 😍💖😭💖

You muffled your laughter behind your sleeve, happily making your way to class.

You

I couldn’t have done it without your help. Thank you so much. For everything. 💕

notes: HELLO AGAIN!!! wowie i can’t believe i finished a whole fic again so soon. i wrote this bc i had been reading fics and all the time Namjoon was featured as the ex-boyfriend AND SOMETIMES HE WAS MEAN OR RUDE OR THE ANTAGONIST AND I WAS LIKE!!! THE NERVE!!! i know it’s to push the narrative or move the story along but. why everyone doin’ my baby boy Namjoon so dirty like that? :’( so i wrote him a fic where he is a big soft baby and he loves u a lot. also once again, much love to @seokjinsbodyharness for helping me again and suggesting that Namjoon have a nose ring. it spiraled from there. we love punk rock boys. also like, thank you to everyone for supporting my last fic!!! i was floored that it picked up so quickly and got so many notes...y’all are really sweet out there!! 💕 as for what i’m writing next, i dunno. when an idea hits me, i’ll start writing again haha. any questions or anything feel free to message me!!!

#my fic #namjoon x reader #bts fanfic #bts self insert #namjoon fluff #tagging is hard #so is naming fic jdkfjadsk

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kotosnoozy · 6 years

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I have trouble picking up on subtle things sometimes, but I'll try my best aaaa Maybe I just overthink it... If you could explain stuff afterward that might help!! But don't go out of your way, I know you've been working on this so much already and you need rest too! I appreciate all your hard work and hope you have a great day!!

aaaaa thank you anon!! ;u;💕it’s no trouble to explain stuff, really!! i just have to be careful i don’t give too much away hfjfhfjfgas a general rule of thumb, the stuff you should be looking out for is text that’s bolded or coloured. bolded text is stuff i want to put emphasis on for (usually) overarching plot reasons, and colour stuff usually relates to characters specifically OR the scene we’re in at the moment. sometimes i’m just also hoping that people know enough context from the anime or game routes that they can figure stuff out.with otoya, i didn’t use that many visual clues now that i think about it. but i think??? those i did do were effective. 65% of voters picked the “““correct””” choice anyway!!the main written clue i had was him specifically holding out the knife towards reiji i probably should’ve bolded that honestly while he asks him to teach him to smile. it’s kind of??? an indirect reference to the joker??? if that makes sense. there’s a quote in the dark knight where he says to a guy it’s been literal years since i’ve seen that film i don’t remember the guy’s name “let’s put a smile on that face!” and then slices the sides of his mouth open with a knife.

context wise, i have a whole essay on just how bad the events of next door were for otoya linked in my byf if you wanna go read it. the short version is otoya had all of his trauma outed, ended up dissociating and eiichi shouldn’t be allowed within 100 feet of him.but the resolution of that episode is all of starish telling otoya that he doesn’t need to be happy all the time. there’s a whole sequence in the middle where otoya truly believes they’ll leave him if he doesn’t smile permanently. so otoya’s arc in lullaby was a callback to that. even if you weren’t aware of the anime context though, i’d hope that people would know that it’s not healthy to try to be happy all the time!! but yeah, combining the anime context with lullaby context, you get otoya asking reiji to teach him how to smile permanently - aka carve him a smile. and that’s never gonna be a good way to solve your depression so GOOD JOB PICKING THE GOOD OPTION EVERYONE

#lullaby #trinity.txt #hope this helps anon!!#((eiichi apologists/non-critical eiichi fans don't interact lmao))#pip don't look #Anonymous

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 6 years

Text

Request: #19 for the Drarry drabble prompts, please! Draco speaking to Harry if possible, but either way is fine, thanks :) :) -- ( @restlessandordinary )

Prompt: “I want to take care of you”

Rated: T

Warnings: Cursing, Light angst, Mentions of nightmares, (my constant use of italics for emphasis)

Words: 4.3k

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I just wanna start off by saying yes I have a lot of other requests, and I’m getting to them! I promise! But my stupid brain said, “Hey let’s write something a few hundred words, maybe 1k words, just to have something to post to the blog so I stay active” before writing a 4k behemoth of a story. Hope you guys like it?

Draco Malfoy was not one easily surprised. Hosting a Dark Lord in your home for a year, being raised how he was to imitate polite social structures, to be ready for absolutely anything- most things he had been through helped Draco learn to expect the unexpected. So when something happened, not entirely unexpected- some would even say it was expected- Draco was confused as to his clear surprise on the matter. To be thoroughly clear, Draco was not surprised to be forced into attending his eighth year of Hogwarts by the Ministry. He was not surprised to be separated from the regular school into a 'fifth house,' if you will, made entirely of the eighth year students. He was still unsurprised when McGonagall practically forced him to room with his once-rival Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy was surprised that he had somehow developed feelings for the one and only Harry Potter. Some would say it was a long time coming, with emotions always rolling high between the two of them. Some would say it was to be expected when living in such close quarters to a guy you had expected to be completely different but was pleasantly surprised to find out he wasn't. Some would even say, "Draco, stop staring at him right now, you literally look like a creepy stalker." Draco Malfoy would ignore these said people. Draco was seated in the library, observing Harry with one of his trio members, Hermione, while they studied, laughing occasionally. He was happy seeing him with such a carefree expression, so different from his usual one nowadays where it so often looks like a combination of grief and self-loathing. He studied the way Harry's eyes lit up every time he laughed, or how he was only pretending to study, either never turning his page or turning them too often to be believable. Draco may have been staring for a tad too long. When Ron came to collect his girlfriend, Harry waved the two goodbye and glanced down toward his books as if he actually planned to study now that he was alone. This lasted about thirty seconds before he shook his head and started glancing around the library for something more interesting to focus on. Draco quickly dropped his head, propping his book slightly as if he wasn't spending his entire day staring at the golden boy. Though, he jumped once a book was dropped onto his table, glancing up to notice the very same boy standing in front of him. Draco just stared, his mouth parted slightly, refusing to believe that he was surprised yet again by this gorgeous boy. "Hey. Uhm, Hermione just left," Harry began sheepishly, sticking a thumb out and pointing behind himself, shrugging slightly, "I figured I could study with you? We're not- not enemies anymore, right? Like, we're friends? This is okay?" A slight blush rose on his cheeks and the boy looked downward, seeming smaller than he actually was. Draco quickly realized how self-conscious the boy was being, and sat up straight, reaching a hand out to pat on Harry's arm. "Yeah. Come, sit. Maybe you'll actually read something this time instead of just pretending to." He hadn't meant for the words to come out, to reveal the extent of his Potter-watching, but Draco rolled with it as if he didn't just reveal something horrifying. He watched Harry blush more, lowering his head as if attempting to hide a small smile that spread on his face, pulling on the seat across from Draco and slipping into it. "Yeah. That'd probably be a good idea if I plan to pass any of my classes." Harry replied sheepishly, and Draco couldn't be more glad the Gryffindor boy wasn't put in Slytherin at that moment or he would have held what he said over him constantly. Either that, or he just didn't realize what it meant that Draco had said that. Either way, Draco wasn't going to correct it.

Harry and Draco began studying then, Draco leaning over every once in awhile to help Harry, pushing him into studying after one uttered, "It's been five minutes and you're still on the same paragraph, Potter?" It seemed to spark something in Harry, to push and do as much as possible before Draco leaned over to check his progress again, correcting some things or sometimes just reading over his notes. Draco quickly realized Harry hadn't ever had a study partner that challenged him to work, to do so much in a certain amount of time. Hermione likely just sat near him and made sure he was working without actually giving him the incentive to work. "Draco," Harry cut off his inner monologue, and Draco glanced up, eyes slightly wide. "Uh- I just wanted to say thank you. I wasn't even thinking of how much work I was doing. I just finished this entire assignment and-" Harry paused to chuckle, running his hand through his hair, "That was the easiest Transfiguration essay I've ever written." Draco smirked, letting his eyes fall away from that gorgeous smile directed at him lest he fall apart right in front of the man. "You just need the right study partner, study techniques." Draco glanced up again, smirk growing as he adds, "In your own personal challenge to beat me, you were too distracted to notice how terribly boring the words you were writing were.” He watched as Harry flushed adorably once more, and Draco smirked slightly to himself, taking that as his own victory.

“You knew I was doing that then?” Harry mumbled toward his essay, and Draco was unsure whether or not Harry actually meant for him to hear it.

“It was easy to notice, you had the same spark in your eye that you usually did whenever we were about to duel in the schoolyard.” Draco winked toward Harry as he sat up straighter, beginning to pack his belongings. “Anyway, I’d say this was a successful day. We should head back to our room. Perhaps I’ll see you here tomorrow, after dinner? We could study some more.” He watched as Harry practically lit up, standing and shoving his own books and papers into his bag in no semblance of an order. Draco forced the smile that was threatening to emerge down, refusing to show his amusement toward the reaction.

---

Harry looked the worst he’s ever been. And that’s saying something considering he had previously died before. He was curled up in bed wearing only an overly large Harpies T-shirt and grey pants, his lightweight sheet curled and tangled around his feet, tissues surrounding him like a halo. His nose was bright red, eyes bloodshot, and was rubbing his face against his pillow as if it could end his suffering.

“Please,” Harry begged for the thousandth time this morning.

“Potter, I’m sorry. Madame Pomfrey said that you’ll have to pass this one through. It’s healthy to work through being sick once a year so that your immunity doesn’t turn to shit.” Draco reiterated once more, carrying over their trashcan and placing it next to his bed. Harry just groaned, shaking his head and glaring at Draco.

“Fine!” He spat angrily, and Draco took a deep breath, shaking his head. “At least bring me Herm- no, Ron! Bring me Ron, please please please!” Harry begged, sitting up on his elbow to look at Draco with puppy eyes. Draco was impressed by how much energy he had left still to beg.

“If I bring Ron in here you’ll guilt him into bringing you the flu-over potion. No.” Draco insisted, matter-of-factly, and Harry just fell backwards onto his bed with a groan, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands down his face. Draco let his guard fall slightly now that Harry wasn’t looking. It hurt him to see Harry in so much pain, to see him beg and plead for something that could help him feel better yet Draco denies it to him. He felt like such an evil person again.

“I need to get to class, Potter. I’ll bring you your work for the first half of the day around lunch, alright?” Draco reassured him, patting his leg before turning around and walking toward the door. Just as he opened it, he heard his name being called softly, and Draco turned slowly to glance toward Harry, who was sitting up slightly and looking a tad guilty toward him.

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t your fault. You’ve helped me a ton already, with the soup and tissues and everything. So, thanks.” Harry rubbed the back of his head, and looked the sight of the poor, sickly little boy that Draco just wanted to take care of.

“Of course, Harry,” Draco replied quietly, walking out the door quickly and closing it behind himself. Walking down the stairs to the common room, Draco grumbled and shook his head toward a waiting Hermione. “He’ll be okay. Just feels horrible.” He ran a hand through his hair and watched her track the movement with her eyes. “I don’t know how the muggles go through it every single time.”

“Well, they have medicine, of course.” She replies easily as they begin walking, exiting the common room on their way to their first shared class. Draco furrows his brow, tilting his head.

“What? They can’t have the flu-over potion. That’d go against every Statute.” Draco replied, glancing toward her with an overly confused expression. She just chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Of course not. They have muggle medicine. It definitely doesn’t work as quickly or as well as the flu-over, but it helps cover symptoms so that they’re not in constant pain while administering extra doses of antibiotics into their systems to help fight the sickness.” Hermione said quickly, turning a corner and glancing toward Draco’s focused face. “You know, Harry could probably use some of it.”

“But- Madam Pomfrey says he’s not allowed to have medicine lest his immunity become utter shite?”

“He’s not allowed to have magical medicines, the one that ends the flu completely and suddenly and gives his body no chance of a fight. Muggle medicines just help the body fight it.” She says quietly, glancing over and smirking before winking toward him and taking her seat in class.

Draco sat, thinking this over. Hermione was suggesting Harry receive some muggle medicine to help, but if she knew all of this already why hadn’t she done so in the first place? Why was she telling him? He glanced back toward her with a worried yet still confused look and she just sighed, rolling her eyes and withdrawing a piece of paper from her bag, shoving it toward him.

“Go order some medicine. I’ll grab yours and Harry’s work from this class. Hurry, before the teacher sees you!” She whispers quickly, practically shoving him out of his seat. He takes the note, rushing out of class, glancing down to notice an address and a list of medicine that would be best to order. Draco rolled his eyes but smiled softly as he began toward the owlery quickly.

Picking up his “express” shipped box from a large owl in the Great Hall, Draco immediately turned and began toward the kitchen to collect some hot soup for Harry that the elves hadn’t put on the actual tables for the school. Draco walked, if a bit fast, but kept his composure as he carried a medium sized box in his arms, glaring at anyone who happened to give him a side eye for his predicament. He finally reached the portrait of the fruit, glancing both ways before tickling the pear and slipping into the kitchen. Some elves noticed, but most were tending to their own work as Draco set the box down gently on a nearby table and asked, kindly, for a bowl of soup for someone who was sick.

As Draco waited he opened the box, glancing in to see several different rectangle boxes with the medicine stored inside them, reaching in to grab a few and read the ingredients, directions, and everything else the boxes mentioned. He sighed, dropping the two he held into the box as an elf appeared sometime later with a rather confused expression, levitating a platter of hot soup in a stasis charm and Draco’s own lunch tucked together, placing it on the table so that Draco is able to levitate it himself.

“Thank you very much,” Draco remembered to say, smiling down at the elf who was holding her ears against herself, looking very much awed at the sentiment. He picked up his box, glancing at the tray following him, and made his way through the castle toward the eighth year common room. He stepped inside, ducking slightly while stepping through the portrait since he happened to be taller than most around here and had seemed to grow even more than he had been when he attended previously, and glanced around the common room. He wasn’t surprised to spot Hermione sitting on the couch with a textbook on her lap, and he made his way over to her, sitting and placing the box on the couch between them.

“I was reading over a lot of these medicines, and I just wanted your opinion on which ones I should give to him? It seems I can’t give him doses of each one, but I don’t know which to pick?” He opened the box, revealing the twenty-three boxes and bottles of medicines, and watched as she leaned over to glance inside the box before her eyebrows shot up to her hairline, sucking in a breath.

“Okay, first of all, let’s not kill Harry with an overdose of cold medicines.” She said quietly, reaching in to shift through the medicines. “I’ll say- this one and a bit of this one, but that’s it.” She glanced up, her eyebrows still raised, as she takes in the sight of Draco. His hair might be a bit mussed from constantly running his hand through it in worry, with a tray floating behind him and a box full of medicines, and she sighed and settled down as if she was finally going to say something that she had been holding back for a long time.

“What is it,” Draco asked quietly, leaning forward and furrowing his own eyebrows. He watched her hesitate before she replied.

“You should tell him, you know.” She had whispered it so quietly that he had barely heard it, but his heart immediately dropped to his stomach and he had to remind himself to breathe.

“Tell who, what?” Draco asked slowly, keeping his eyes trained on Hermione as she fidgets slowly, her eyes downcast onto the brown carpet.

“Tell Harry. That you like him.” Again, it was said so quietly, but it felt like a punch to his gut. He immediately stood, reaching for his box, intending to just walk away and leave this conversation behind. Hermione reached out quickly, snagging his wrist, and he glanced back to her to see her pleading eyes. “Please, I won’t say anything to him, it’s not mine to tell. Don’t worry about that. If you don’t want to tell him it’s fine, it’s just-” She hesitated, biting her lip as she withdrew her hand, “I think it’d be better for everyone if you did tell him?” Draco shook his head, standing and situating the box in his hands.

“How could it be better for everyone? It would make things awkward, it would make Harry want to be around me less. I understand that hiding feelings aren’t exactly Gryffindor traits, but just because we’re all living together and sharing a common room does not mean that I am a Gryffindor by any means.” Draco began to walk away, ignoring the softly called, ‘That’s not what I meant!’ and walking upstairs toward his room in a bit of a huff.

Entering the room, he glanced toward Harry’s bed, spying him sleeping finally. He quietly set the box of medicine by his bed, levitating the tray to sit on a nearby table before studying Harry. Draco quickly waved his wand, nonverbally vanishing the tissues that had stockpiled since he left, and began a slow process of untangling the bed sheets from Harry’s legs before lifting it and pulling it up toward his chest. Draco studied the red-nosed face of sleeping Harry, and glanced away before standing again.

“Dra-co?” Harry murmured, his voice scratchy as he slowly opened his eyes, turning his head as if it hurt to wake up. Draco immediately Accioed over a glass, tapping his wand against the cup and filling it with water before helping Harry sit up, holding out the glass for him. Harry took a few big swigs, though stared at Draco over the top of the rim the whole time. Handing the glass back over, Draco began walking to place it on the nearby table with the food as Harry spoke up again. “Did you grab the homework? I don’t see it?”

Draco hesitated, blinking a few times. He had meant to ask Hermione for the homework as well as the advice on the medicine but he had gotten too distracted to ask. “Oh, no. Hermione has that, actually. I can go grab it in a second so you have something to work on when I’m gone.” He said it so matter-of-factly that he hoped Harry wouldn’t notice how he had forgotten the one thing he promised to bring. “But while I’m here,” He walked over to the box on the floor, withdrawing the two rectangular boxes that Hermione had picked out and brought them over toward Harry, whom he noticed now was wearing his glasses once again, “I have these medicines that will hopefully help you. It was Hermione’s idea, considering you’re not allowed any magical medicines, but muggle medicines should be okay. It won’t completely get rid of the problem immediately, but it’ll help you not feel like you’re dying.” He watched Harry’s face, a mixture of confusion and amazement, settle on Draco before looking back down to the boxes and grabbing them.

“You didn’t have to do this…” Harry trailed off, furrowing his brow and looking back up to Draco once more. Draco forced himself not to squirm, instead turning and levitating the bowl of soup over.

“I didn’t. Like I had said, it was Hermione’s idea.”

---

Draco shot awake, sitting up quickly in bed and breathing heavily. He didn’t know what exactly it was that woke him up in the dead of night- that was until he glanced over and noticed that a few pieces of glass had shattered from accidental magic on Harry’s side of the room. Draco slowly slid from his bed, placing his bare feet on the floor and wincing at the feel of the cold stone. “Harry?” He called quietly, though received no response. He waited a bit longer before standing and beginning a slow walk to his side of the room.

Vanishing glass pieces as he got near, he looked down to study Harry’s face, which was set in a grimace. Nightmares, it seems, again. Draco knelt beside Harry’s bed, reaching a hand out slowly to place his hand against Harry’s burning hot face, furrowing his brow in worry. After living with him most of the year, graduation coming soon, he was still unsure of what to do about the nightmares. He never woke Harry up, afraid that he wouldn’t exactly appreciate it, but more and more recently he had started sitting next to Harry’s bed while trying to soothe his unconscious body into better dreams whenever Draco woke up and realized what was happening. He began humming a small lullaby that his mother used to sing to him as a kid, brushing Harry’s hair back from his face and watching as Harry’s body slowly relaxed and his face took on a restful pose instead of the one scrunched in pain.

Draco, now almost nodding off himself, pushed against the bed to help himself stand, glancing at Harry once more before turning and beginning to walk back toward his bed.

“Draco?” Harry called softly, and Draco tensed up, hoping that he was just sleep talking. Turning slowly he eyed the form of Harry laying on the bed, though startled slightly once he noticed Harry’s eyes were open. “I hope it’s you, all I can see is a green blurry shape,” Harry joked, sleepily smirking as he propped himself up and reached for his glasses. Draco felt frozen on the spot, unsure of what was going to happen, if Harry was going to be mad or if he was going to figure out the extent of Draco’s feelings for catching him in this.

“So, it is you.” Harry joked again, pushing himself to sit up completely, looking at Draco with a smile for a few silent moments until it falls away and he sighs. “Look, I know it’s a bit awkward right now but I wanted to-” He hesitated, biting his lip and looking away, “I wanted to talk to you about something?” Draco stood there for another moment before sliding his mask back on and straightening up, smoothing his green silk pyjamas down and nodding toward Harry. “Look- no. That’s not what I want!” He began, grumbling angrily before running his hand through his hair. “I was hoping since it was late, since we both woke up, that you wouldn’t have that- that-” He hesitated, trying to find the word, clenching his fists around his bedsheets. “That mask on your face. That says you don’t care about anything, that shows nothing but contempt. That you hide behind! Because I’ve seen what is behind it, Draco. I love what’s behind that mask.” He sucked in a breath after finishing, closing his eyes and resigning himself to what he said. Draco startled, letting his shoulders sag slightly as he stood there for a bit longer before finally speaking up.

“You’re right, Harry,” Using his first name, which he doesn’t do too often, caused Harry to finally open his eyes and glance toward Draco. “I hide behind this mask because I’m afraid that no one will like who I am behind it. Or I’m scared because it’s too compromising for some people to know how I truly feel, since they can take advantage of that.” He watched Harry for a moment longer before taking a small step forward. “But I know you wouldn’t do that to me. I know you would never take advantage of me.” He finished in a whisper, watching a wide range of emotions flicker across Harry’s face.

“So if it’s not that, then is it the first one you said? You’re afraid that no one will like who you are behind it? You’re afraid that I won’t like the real you?” Draco shrugged, glancing toward the ground. “I have another question-” Harry started, biting his lip as Draco glanced back up and let his eyes rest on Harry, letting his mask fall slightly, as much as he was able to before being afraid. “You treat me so nice. Nicer than most of the others? At least, it feels like that. Hermione said something but- I don’t know.” He bit his lip again, glancing away. “I’m sorry, this is stupid.”

“No, you’re right,” Draco admitted quietly, closing his eyes and lifting his hand to rub his face. He remained quiet for a bit, then peeked through his fingers to see Harry staring at him as if waiting to elaborate. He sighed, shaking his head before continuing, dropping his hands. “I just want to take care of you.” He said finally, wincing slightly. Glancing away, he misses the look that passes over Harry’s face when he says this.

“Come here,” Harry responds quietly, opening his arms. Draco hesitates, but slowly moves over and sits on the bed, and Harry pulls him into a tight embrace. “You help me study so I don’t fail my classes, you brought me medicine and soup when I was sick- you help soothe me when I have nightmares. You do take care of me Draco.” Harry whispers against his ear, squeezing him a bit tighter. “And, through all of it, I’ve seen who you really are. Who you could be if you tried to be. And I’ve-” Harry hesitated, backing away but keeping his eyes off of Draco. “And I’ve fallen in love with you through it all. But I feel bad, because it’s one-sided, isn’t it? You’ve been taking care of me, but I’ve done nothing for you.”

Draco immediately started shaking his head, raising his hand to place on Harry’s cheek, letting his thumb rub against Harry’s cheek for a moment before raising Harry’s head so that his eyes fell onto Draco’s own. “You’re wrong. You’ve done so much for me Harry. Because of you, my bullying stopped. Because of you I’ve gained some amazing friends. Because of you, I feel love and compassion. Real love, not the fake kind that was force fed to me growing up.�� Draco leaned closer, looking deeper into Harry’s emerald eyes. “I want to take care of you, Harry. You deserve it, after everything you’ve been through. And it makes me feel good, knowing that I can help you during times like these. Even in small ways.”

He watched Harry tear up slightly before the boy rushed forward, crashing both of their lips against each other. Draco felt himself begin to drown in emotions, in the rolling waves of love and compassion and just pure want. They kissed like it would be their last, like they had been starving and this was the only way to survive. And once they finally parted, Draco opened his eyes to see the love he felt reflected in Harry, and whispered, “I love you too.”

#draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #hp universe #drarry #prompt #requested #writing:requested #light angst #fluff #hopefully

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livingbutamireally · 4 years

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AY2019/2020 Y1S2 Module Reviews

AY2019/2020 year 1 semester 2 review

Wew this semester was more of a honeymoon period for me still since I cant advance past CS1010S - this is only the first CS mod i have to take big oof. First half of the sem was spent mostly on (re)doing CS1010S AFAST and the rest went to catching up on other modules that are of relatively lower intensities compared to modules i imagine i will have to take next semester? The most challenging mods this sem goes to CS1010S, EC1301 and also.. ST2334? About half of the semester was done at home though due to the COVID-19 pandemic and so the never-ending heap of online lectures to review (for which i am always behind on unfortunately). I have no need to S/U any module this sem fortunately but that also means I might have effectively wasted my last COVID S/Us. I’m also the kind that is happy enough just to pass.

Modules taken this semester:

CS1010S (AFAST)

GEH1031

GES1041

EC1301

ST2334

MKT1705X

CS1010S Programming Methodology (Python) – AFAST

School of Computing

Prof: Ben Leong

Exam Dates: 16 Jan (Midterm Mock - not graded) / 24 Feb (Practical Exam) / 28 Feb (Finals)

Weightage:

Coursemology – 25%

Participation – 5%

Midterm test – NA

Practical exam – 20%

Final assessment – 50%

Since i took the alternative finals i have updated the final weightage for this module (last sems CS1010S had different weightages).

As we already know, this module (or any CS modules in general) easily has the highest workload compared to other modules, except this time without needing to complete missions every week? Also since its a re-module, there were no lectures/tutorials/recitations for this module and the prof spent lesser time than the first module with us. There is just one consultation slot per week that lasts about 1.5-2h, where the TAs/ prof Ben goes through exam questions over the past years and where students get to voice any doubts they might have. Hence, a lot of self-discipline is required on our part to grind past year papers consistently and drill our brains. Not sure if i’ve mentioned this before, but it’s nice of them to provide comprehensive worked solutions for about 50 exam papers (or maybe more) the profs claimed it was the only module in NUS to be doing this. Prof mentioned he was a bit disappointed in our batch as many werent putting in considerable effort right from the start aka ponning consultation slots arranged over the holidays (in December) - which is a lot of effort coming from the professor to arrange this just for our batch (first batch of CS1010S AFAST). Just name me any prof who does this for their students, coming back over the holidays to teach unpaid. Those who were not at level 50 in Coursemology had more time now to finish the missions/side-quests needed to achieve level 50 and get the full points for Coursemology (as we were expected to in Sem 1). Things were a bit rusty after the holidays at the start but it became better with practice. Was a bit disappointed at not being able to get question 2 right during the written paper (finals) it was a bit of an IQ-ish problem solving question. Anyways winged the 4m what-did-you-learn essay question (as usual) at the end as a saving grace and passed albeit by a very bit. I improved by 2 marks ?? compared to the last semester for finals, not the nicest thing to see after so much effort being put in but still. I think I’m just better at writing essays than coding....

Results for the PE

Mean is 14. Median is also 14. Standard Deviation is 7.6. Highest grades was 30/30 Question 1 turned out to be harder than we had intended, but Q2 was quite easy and most of Q3 was doable by most, as you can see in the results. Passing mark for PE is roughly 10/30.

Mean is 51/10, median is 53/100 and standard deviation is 14.4. Highest was 81/100. Generally, the performance was much worse than we had expected. Pass grade for Finals is roughly 40/100.

Basically, if got 10/30 for PE and 40/100 for Finals and you have done your Coursemology assignments you can expect a C grade. If not, then prepare to SU. CS1010S is not graded on a curve. We set question to test that you have mastered certain concepts and your final grade is a reflection of what you seem to have mastered as reflected by your exam performance.

This whole module was done by recess week so we have more time to focus on other mods. Honestly will be happy enough just to pass. Now, how do i survive CS23030 and CS2040 rip.

GEH1031 Understanding the Universe

Faculty of Science (Physics)

Prof: Cindy Ng

Weightage:

Term Test 1 (3 Mar) – 25%

Term Test 2 (16 Apr) – 25%

Video presentation 5 Apr – 25%

Video critiques 17 Apr – 10%

Astrophotograph 17 Apr – 10%

Quizzes – 10%

Ng is relatively a slower-paced lecturer, which is good for someone like me who cant keep up with faster-paced profs. 2x on her elearning lecture videos makes the best pace imo. Her lecture slides are concise and simple, and will suffice in revision. While she does explain more in depth especially for concepts that are harder to grasp (not many) during the lecture i love that she keeps her lecture slides straight forward to the point. Everything was in point form, short and sweet much appreciated. Also if you pay attention to her lectures, you will do well for the quizzes at the end of each chapter for sure. Though i think you get the marks for quizzes as long as you did them before each deadline like participation marks kinda (?) rather than being graded on whether you answered them correctly. I didn’t do too well for term test 2 unfortunately and I also only just found out you can display the statistics of where you place among the cohort in LUMINUS and needless to say I didn’t place too well. It’s a relatively manageable module though there’s still a lot of content. Term test 1 consisted of MCQs and about 3 2m questions which she call “essay questions” which can be misleading for some (like me!). The MCQs are very tricky and most come in the format of these options: is A/ is not A/ is B/ is not B and you have to pick the right combination (2) out of these 4 options to score 1 point, which of course means less chances of getting them correct compared to the usual 25% in a typical MCQ. Term test 2 was held on LUMINUS at home, and this time since its an e-exam there was only 10mins to do about 25 MCQ, leaving only 0.4 minutes = 24s for 1 MCQ, which proved to be really stressful for many as voiced out by other cohort mates in the forum section (so very valid). The e-exam also had an essay component, 2m per question with 4 questions under 10 minutes. The implementation of this time constraint was to prevent cheating but the duration given was (I feel) unreasonable. As for the video presentation, we had to come up with a 7 min (at most) video most of which lasts 5/6mins on a news article in 2020 regarding astronomy. We had to form groups of 3 at the start of the semester, and were told to look for members on the forums if we did not have enough members. It is not necessary to show your face so you can be creative! For my group, we had a Germany graduate exchange student to work with us which was really cool. Our group’s theme was NASA’s discovery of exoplanets with the use of TESS which was wrapped up in March, before the deadline in April. Really thankful for him to prompt us each week for progress and have it done and over with instead of rushing it last minute when things get busy during reading week. (I think the guy was really done with us im so sorry Philipp if you are reading this.) Also since term test 2 was done by mid-April we had more time allocated for other modules to prepare for finals (swee). Video critiques were supposedly 50 words long if i remembered correctly but i didnt find out until i hit the submit button and :_D i left 1/2-liners for each. One of the criteria of this video critique was showing that you have watched the videos of other groups well but i dont rmb my critiques proving that ive watched the videos carefully though i really did. I think our group did the best in our cluster though! (based on the critiques). For the astrophotograph, we could take part in the astronomy sessions held on a Friday of every month to use the telescopes but there wasn’t any this semester sadly due to the pandemic.

GES1041 Everyday Ethics in Singapore

Faculty of Arts and Sciences (Philosophy)

Prof: Chin Chuan Fei

Weightage:

4 Journal Entries – 20%

4 Reading Quizzes – 20%

Group Report – 10%

Group Presentation – 20%

Finals – 40%

Chin’s lectures are pretty enjoyable, his voice/tone really suits lectures. He is a very approachable person too and willing to share a lot of experiences relevant to the topic at hand. He includes snippets of related videos in his slides many of which are insightful that made me share with my friends too. There is a total of 4 main themes in the module which are namely inequality, meritocracy, multiculturalism and migration and he also introduced the use of an ethical toolbox to helps us reach a more definitive thought process especially for an abstract topic like philosophy. I didn’t realise this was a philo mod when bidding for it so I was really surprised when i went for the first lecture (like bro it clearly says ETHICS what was i thinking). I also thought it would be something similar to Social Studies but was proven wrong. There are compulsory readings to do each week, about 20 pages long usually per reading and they are all chapters from books written by other Singaporean philosophers regarding the themes gone through which helped to widen my perspectives and broadened my horizons, those were some really good selection of readings. I have learned more things than I previously knew about the foreign domestic workers, migrant workers, racism in Singapore among the many topics we have dealt with.

This module is for those who are :

Comfortable with reading a lot every week (i put a lot here because i dont usually read)

Comfortable with writing essays (journal entry) 500 words each

Proficient in English (some of the expressions used can be quite complex and may take you a much longer time to process and understand especially with the reading quizzes that tests your comprehension of the readings - really just comprehension in true GP fashion)

Have a lot of experience in this field, those under social work would have many and will be able to share relevant experiences in the journal entry

Interested about the aforementioned themes

Reading quizzes are like comprehension style questions: do your readings and the questions tests you on what you have read so you just have to look for evidence of each option, the questions will refer you to the specific page/reading that will guide you (nice of them to do so). Journal entries and reading quizzes occur on an alternative week basis so reading quizzes followed by journal then reading quiz again and so forth. Nearing the end, you will be grouped according to who you sit close with and you will work together with your group members to work on a project that will have 2 overlapping themes about any policies/ observations of Singapore. It is advisable for the scope to not be too broad. e.g. we chose to talk about offering Muslim food in school canteens vs non-Muslim food (fewer food options for Muslims) and this encompasses both the multiculturalism and inequality themes. The group report will be due before the presentation and it helps identify some main points you will then talk about later during the presentation. Because of the COVID-19 pandemic, the group presentation this semester was done on Microsoft Powerpoint through voice-over slides. God bless, and there goes the need to memorise scripts especially with the finals season so near. The professor was really accommodating and gave us more time to prepare the voice-over slides when he announced that it will be held on powerpoint too. Finals was 20 MCQs in 1 hour on LUMINUS, the questions were similar to the reading quizzes (5 MCQs per quiz).

EC1301 Principles of Economics

Faculty of Arts and Sciences (Economics)

Prof: Ong Ee Cheng

Tutor: Devika

Weightage:

Pre/post-lecture Quizzes

Class Participation

Midterms 7 Mar

Finals 29 Apr

Can’t find the actual breakdown of scores sorry!

Bell-curve is really really steep for this one since its purely MCQ. Divided into micro and macroeconomics so first half of the sem was micro then the other half was macro. Finals was about 70% macro and 30% micro since micro was already tested for midterms. Every week, there’s a pre-lecture quiz to be done before the lecture and a post-lecture quiz due before the next lecture to reinforce your learning. There’s also supplementary readings that were given but i gave up on it by the third week. The way it is taught is a bit different from what I was used to in JC the things they focus on is also a bit different. There’s more calculations than JC whereas JC economics was more conceptual? I took only H1 economics so a lot of concepts were fresh for me like monopolism, comparative/absolute advantages, income elasticity etc. Both midterms and finals was held on Examplify with a lockdown on everything including wifi. The lecturer also provides additional practice questions in the form of quizzes nearing the exams instead of exam papers. To be honest, I felt this module was hard?? Not sure if anyone else felt the same way, it was a struggle.. I thought it was a fluff mod and boy was i very wrong about this. Also important thing to note is though this mod has MCQ-only exam, the MCQs are not 4 options but 6 options long with many tricky options and of course time constraint. Finals was 70/80 questions long in 1h iirc. Midterms was 40 questions. After the 3rd (?) tutorial, there was no more physical tutorials held just zoom tutorial sessions which only 3 ppl in my slot regularly attended. Towards the finals, a lot more zoom sessions were opened up and we could attend other TA’s zoom sessions this was a godsend thank you. My tutor wasn’t really clear in her explanations or maybe it is just me her accent came off a bit strong. I emailed her some questions but even now I have not receive any answers from her, she told me next week, and the next week became next next week and so on. I guess she must have had a lot on her plate. I didn’t think she was a good tutor. I flunked my midterms (5% percentile) so I was a bit dejected.

ST2334 Probability and Statistics

Faculty of Science (Statistics and Applied Probability)

Prof: Chan Yiu Man

Tutor: Li Shang

Weightage:

1. Quiz 1,2,3 (CA1) – 30% (?)

2. Finals – 60% (?)

Prof was really funny and friendly. Although his tutorials left me confused (my friends would care to disagree), his lectures were still pretty good. He always emphasised knowing what we are doing rather than doing the math blindly. The tutor was fast in his replies whenever I asked him questions by email. This module is an extension of statistics in JC, probability and many more probability distribution (F, chi-square, t test, z test) with terms we have never encountered before too (unless you took BT1101 but this mod focuses more on deriving the values than having a program-R calculate it for you). Ever since the outbreak, the lectures were converted to e-lecture slide style but each lesson would take 4 lectures (4h), instead of the 2 lecture per week so we had to spend more time watching the videos than usual. It is easy to be behind on videos when there is only e-lecture videos so much discipline is required to stay on task.

Finals was proctored with zoom and held on Luminus in the form of a quiz. We were expected to scan and submit a pdf with our workings after the exam. I did not have time to finish about 8 questions (a lot of marks gone) there were a total of 30 questions, spent too much time in front on the easier questions. I did study for the later questions but had no chance to utilize what I have revised (sad). I am really dead for this module i hope i dont fail this.

Update. God bless, thought i was really doomed for because i lost so many marks from not being able to finish 8/30 questions that have the most marks rewarded. Guess i really took time to make less mistakes on the previous questions.

MKT1705X Principles of Marketing

Business School (Marketing)

Prof: Regina Yeo

Tutor: Ms Canley

Weightage:

Individual Assignment – 15%

Group Assignment – 25% due in tutorials 4/5

Subject Pool – 10% *

Class Participation – 10% *

Final Exam 30 Apr – 40% *

* not too sure, checked from other reviewers

Individual assignment questions (total of 5) for tutorials 1-3 are given at the start for which the tutor will go through in the allocated weeks. We get to choose the question we want to do and if that week, the question will be discussed that week will be the deadline for our IAs. The other questions in the IA do not have to be submitted but will be discussed in class. There’s class participation for this module so people were more eager than I was used to, to answer questions in class. I had no opportunity to though in this module (halfway into the semester it became elearning), the tutor had too many hands to pick. The tutor was very accommodating and knew our difficulties and was willing to work out compromise. However, her classes were centered mainly on her experiences (which can be a bit boring) it could have been better if she went through the content. Understand that it is a fluff module that requires many examples, but would be good to relate them back to the content we are expected to master. Tutorials are held every alternate week and we are expected to do the individual questions even if we do not need to submit so that we have something at least to share in class. Subject pool was giveaway marks basically do 6 research surveys and u will get the full marks for that. Final exam comprises of 3 essay questions (40m, 30m, 30m) that you have to submit in 1.5h (i thought it was 2h during the paper rip mad rush for the end), no references/research needed but there’s a plagiarism checker by TurnItIn on luminus basically testing the application of concepts to examples.

I got a B+ for group assignment, and A- for individual assignment. I think i can only do essay styled questions, is this a sign to do arts.....

Oh the presentation was changed to a one-shot video recording (no stitching of individual videos together) instead of an actual presentation in front of your tutorial mates. I think a lot of other groups also read off their scripts but ours was really obvious. The tutor grades (structures her own bell-curve) based on those who attempted the same question to be more fair rather than comparing among all the different questions so in a way, the difficulty of the questions won’t affect your grade.

Epilogue. this is probably the last and only time i could do this well.... even if it does not fit the conventional definition of doing well......

#y1s2

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toogay2care · 7 years

Text

Always: A Bechloe Fic

Shout-out to @chloebeale for the prompt. Thank you for reminding me how much I love to write.

It’s literally been years since I’ve written anything, so just keep the hate to yourself if it sucks.

Thanks for reading!

Prompt:

Fat Amy: “OK, maybe playing “whose family is most dysfunctional” wasn’t the best drunk idea we’ve had. Beca’s been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get her out.”

…

Always

…

Chloe draws the sleeves of her navy blue cardigan tighter around her arms as a gentle yet brisk breeze sweeps over her, dislodging the strands of fiery hair draped over her shoulders and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The redhead glances up at the near full moon hovering over the campus before tucking her hands under the folds of her arms and increasing her pace, and the sound of her boots clacking against the paved sidewalk echoes loudly across the deserted quad.

This particularly chilly November evening proudly announces the arrival of a daunting Winter for all nearby to hear; the impending snow storms can be felt nipping at the heels of the icy wind, and Chloe wants to kick herself for not thinking to bring a heavier jacket to class with her as she shuffles down the lantern-lit walkway.

This isn’t the first time Chloe has walked herself back to the Bella house after an evening class, but it is the first time she’s been so late, and thereby so ill-prepared for the sudden drop in temperature brought on by the setting of the sun. Curse her stupid Russian Lit. professor for holding her after class.

(Cranky, old man. Chloe grumbles to herself. Because of his monotonous combination of lecturing her about being a responsible adult and pleading with her to just pass the class and get out of his hair already, she left the classroom nearly half an hour later than usual.

It’s not like she honestly doesn’t know the material after having taken the class three times, and so what if she sleeps during class and doodles on the unit tests and turns in the sheet music of her favorite Mariah Carey chart-toppers instead of the assigned essays? How many times she fails the class is none of his business.)

She dispatches a hand from its spot of mediocre warmth to the back pocket of her skinny jeans and withdraws her phone before tucking her elbow into her abdomen and hunching over the small screen as if its LED display will provide her with the necessary amount of heat to banish the minute shivers that have begun to wrack her shoulders.

Her phone declares that the time is nearing ten o’clock, that the weather has dropped to a chilling forty-three degrees Fahrenheit, and that she has new, unread text messages from several of her fellow Bellas.

The redhead swipes through the first few messages, which turn out to be from Fat Amy, Stacie, and Jessica, wondering, with varying degrees of concern, where she is, why she’s late, and whether or not she’s willing to buy more booze to restock the impromptu party that’s apparently started up while she was gone. She taps out brief responses where necessary before honing in on the remaining message thread she has yet to open.

Beca – 6:11PM

Hey, if you need me to rescue you from class just say the word.

Beca – 6:17PM

Chlo?

Beca – 6:22PM

Dude.

…

Ok, I’ll admit that I’m bored and want your company.

Beca – 6:25M

Chloooooeeee

Beca – 6:28PM

Fine, I’m a strong independent bitch that don’t need no woman.

Beca – 7:34PM

So Fat Amy just chugged a bottle of vodka and declared that her life’s purpose is to teach Em mermaid dancing??

Anyway, apparently we’re having a party now.

Beca – 8:49PM

Chlo u there??? need 2 talk,, pleas

Chloe – 9:53PM

sorry!!! got out of class rlly late, i’ll b home in 2 :)

Chloe pockets her phone and rounds the corner that will lead her to the steps of the Bella household.

True to Beca’s word, the Bella party is in full swing when she pushes her way through the front door. The kitchen island is littered with half-full bottles of alcohol and plastic cups, and the latest and greatest of the pop industry is blasting from the living room as various people, some that she recognizes and some that she doesn’t, push past each other in the limited space provided by the hallway between the two hotspots.

Chloe drops the pink book bag that was slung over her shoulder at the door, content to leave it where it lands in favor of enjoying the unexpected yet enjoyable outing that has deposited itself upon her otherwise unoccupied Friday evening.

The redhead saunters into the kitchen and pulls the cabinet over the sink open, extracting her personal yellow solo cup. She turns and pauses, eyes roaming over the drink selection laid out on the counter, before shrugging to herself, selecting a bottle at random and pouring a healthy amount into her glass.

She pulls out her phone again with her free hand, frowning when she sees that Beca has yet to text her back.

Chloe – 9:57PM

i’m here, where r u?

Strolling into the living room to search for Beca amidst her fellow party goers, she smiles widely and raises her glass in acknowledgement when Flo, who’s seated next to a slightly cross-eyed Cynthia Rose, spots her from across the room and all but launches herself off of the couch to wave excitedly at her, nearly upending the table in front of her in the process.

Chloe giggles at the sight of the two Bellas, shaking her head at the sheer amount of alcohol she knows they must have ingested in the last several hours to appear this far gone already. She starts to make her way over to the duo, intent on asking if they’ve seen Beca recently, but she’s stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

“Chloe!” Stacie squeals excitedly and throws her arms around the redhead before she’s had the chance to completely turn around.

“Stace, hey!” Chloe stumbles slightly under the sudden weight that barrels into her from the side, but grins excitedly up at the brunette regardless. Her eyes slide to the unfamiliar blond guy lingering awkwardly several paces behind Stacie. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, this is Mark.”

“Mack.” Chloe catches his correction over the loud thumping of the music, though Stacie appears not to have heard. Mack doesn’t seem particularly bothered either way.

Chloe smiles at him in greeting just as Stacie pulls her into another hug. “Right, well, we’re going to go do some body shots! Wanna join?” Mack holds up the bottle of tequila, salt shaker, and baggie of lime slices clasped in his fingers at the mention of the shots and grins enthusiastically when Stacie turns around and winks at him.

“I’m good for now, thanks!” Is Chloe’s cheerful reply. “Have fun!”

Stacie simply throws her head back and laughs happily in reply before reaching behind her to fit a hand under Mack’s upper arm, pulling him past Chloe.

“Nice meeting you!” Mack shouts over the music, raising the tequila bottle in a farewell salute.

“Oh, wait!” Chloe tries to yell over the music to catch their attention as they move away from her, waving her untouched drink in the air like a beacon. “Have you guys…seen Beca?” She trails off and lowers her arm as she realizes the two can no longer hear her.

She makes a face, pulling her brows together as she glances around, contemplating whom to question about the tiny DJ’s whereabouts. Her eyes flit along the mass of bodies on the makeshift dance floor, searching for any familiar faces.

(At one point she spots Lilly dangling upside-down from the ceiling, but the redhead decides it would just be better not to interrupt… whatever it was that she was doing.)

Chloe walks around, pausing intermittently to mingle and sing along to the music, checking her phone for messages from a certain tiny brunette every thirty seconds.

When she eventually spots Jessica and Ashley curled into each other in the far corner of the room, she smiles triumphantly, allowing herself a gulp from her all but forgotten drink as a reward.

The redhead squeezes her eyes shut and twists her mouth as the bitter liquid slides down her throat. With a slight cough, she pushes herself forward and makes quick work of the walk around the dancers.

As she nears the duo, Chloe gets a better assessment of how much they’ve been drinking: the two are both cradling solo cups as well as each other, chatting and giggling about something that Chloe can’t yet hear, occasionally knocking their heads into one another as their laughter propels their alcohol-heavy bodies. Still, she figures, glancing around the room, there are people farther gone than either of them.

Neither Jessica nor Ashley notice her until she is crouched a foot away from them.

“Hey, Chlo!” Jessica sits up from where she had slouched against the wall, still tucked comfortably into Ashley’s left side. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if either of you have seen Beca recently? Do you know where I can find her?” Chloe enquires.

The easy smile on Ashley’s face drops a fraction and her eyes widen almost comically before darting from Chloe to Jessica, who has displayed a similar reaction. Chloe shifts a questioning gaze between the two, but they pay her no mind. The redhead tries her best to decipher the unspoken words that pass though each flicker of their eyes, to no avail.

After a moment of silent interaction, Ashley surges forward and cups a hand around Jessica’s ear, whispering something before pulling back with such an absurdly serious expression that Chloe almost laughs, certain that the two have had more to drink than she had initially thought.

Jessica nods in confirmation to whatever question Ashley had asked before turning to face Chloe once more.

“You need to talk to Fat Amy,” Jessica tells her with apologetic yet serious tilt of her lips, “She should be the one to tell you where Beca is.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows in anticipation of some sort of punchline, waiting for one of the two to burst out laughing. After a moment of silence and blank stares from the two, however, the slightest of twitches in her smile begins to betray her rapidly growing confusion.

“Wait,” The redhead starts, her smile falling as she glances back and forth between the two, “You’re being serious? Why can’t you just tell me where she is?”

“Chloe,” Jessica rolls her heavy-lidded eyes skyward and pats her on the hand with the exasperated sigh of one attempting to explain metaphysics to a child, “Just please go talk to Fat Amy.”

Ashley nods aggressively in agreement, her hair bouncing messily around her shoulders with the rapid movement.

“I think I saw her go outside a while ago,” Ashley tells her, head still bobbing mechanically.

“Umm, okay,” Chloe pushes off of her knees and stands with a final smile in their direction, “Thanks, I guess.”

“Welcome!” Jessica calls cheerfully to the redhead’s retreating form.

…

Chloe leans against the frame of the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard, peering out in search of Fat Amy. Sure enough, as Ashley had said, the Bella in question stumbles into view, waving the glass in her hand around in the air and causing the majority of the contents to slop onto the patio.

Fat Amy stares deeply into her empty cup for a moment before thrusting it into the hands of an unwitting passerby, demanding that he get her a refill immediately.

Chloe takes a sip of her own drink before nudging the door open with her hip and stepping outside.

The gust of wind that hits her as soon as the door opens is stronger than it had been when she was walking back from class, but it provides a pleasant contrast to the stifling heat that the mass of bodies inside the house has accumulated.

“Amy! Hey, Amy!” Chloe flags the Australian Bella down, approaching her with a bright smile. “Jessica and Ashley said that can tell me where Beca is?”

The drunken smile that Fat Amy had graced Chloe with upon sight disappears, and she makes a noise in the back of her throat that Chloe has come to associate with a sheepish, guilt-laden ‘yikes!’.

“Amy, where is Beca?”

(And, okay, Chloe isn’t exactly demanding that Fat Amy answer her, but the no nonsense severity leaking into her voice as a result of the steadily rising frustration of having spent the last twenty minutes on a wild-goose chase doesn’t exactly leave room for a refusal.)

“Oh, Beca! Well, why didn’t you just say so?” Fat Amy laughs nervously, finding herself ill-prepared to face the she-demon that she knows the redhead is more than capable of releasing.

“Y’know,” The blonde points a finger a Chloe, continuing her rambling, “Beca is, like, one of my favorite tiny DJ’s. Have I ever told you that? Like, maybe not number one or two, or three even…but she’s definitely top twenty material, at least, don’t you think? I mean, that’s just what I think, maybe you have a different opinion, but, uh…oooooohh.” She withers at the glare Chloe directs her way.

“Amy.”

“Yeah, right, so,” Fat Amy claps her hands together, “Here’s the thing about that.” She twists her fingers together. “You know how Beca gets when she’s drunk, and, um...okay, maybe playing “Who’s Family Is Most Dysfunctional” wasn’t the best drunk idea we’ve had. Beca’s been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get her out.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, she’s barricaded herself in the one upstairs. Legacy’s been trying to get through to her for the last forty-five minutes, but she hasn’t had any luck. Kind of a bummer too ‘cuz now we can only use the bathroom on this floor and there’s always a line. It’s pretty inconvenient for those of us that have to release the kraken on a regular basis, know what I mean?” Fat Amy jabs an elbow into Chloe’s side, laughing humorously.

Chloe draws her brows together, opening and closing her mouth in a gape not dissimilar to that of a fish out of water as she attempts to come up with an adequate response. In the end, she decides not to dignify the last several seconds of their conversation with a response, instead focusing on her immediate and overwhelming concern for Beca.

While Chloe had been meandering around, more or less enjoying the party, Beca had been a floor above her, alone, stewing in the muddled, painful memories drawn out from behind long-locked doors by the alcohol that had managed to entice its way under the spider-web encrusted seal.

She thinks back to the last text Beca had sent her, where the DJ had informed the redhead that she needed to talk to her; the brunette’s usual, pristine text had been replaced with what Chloe could now clearly see was the result of sporadic fingertips fueled solely by drunken distress.

Beca needed her, and Chloe can’t believe she missed the obvious signs.

The redhead swallows, trying to push away the hysterics that are threatening to creep up on her. Her voice is soft when she speaks again, carrying what feels like the weight of worlds as she asks, “Is she okay?” The syllables stick together as they pass through her lips, heavy with obvious concern, but she can’t bring herself to care.

Fat Amy makes a face, noticing Chloe’s sudden change in demeanor. “I mean, maybe? I dunno, honestly.”

“I need to—” Chloe takes a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair, “I’ve got to go. I need to see her. I need to know that she’s okay.”

She turns and starts for the backdoor, the fingers of her left hand still tangled loosely in her hair.

“Wait, Chloe,” The sincerity in Fat Amy’s voice is the only thing that convinces the redhead to turn around again.

The blonde meets her desperate eyes, staring into them for several moments, her hands gently rising to rest on top of the ones Chloe has curled into her chest protectively.

Chloe’s sky blue eyes flicker hesitantly between Amy’s own, and she has just opened her mouth to say something, to ask what the blonde needs, when Fat Amy withdraws her hands, snagging Chloe’s yellow cup as she does so.

Before Chloe can protest, Fat Amy tips the cup back, throwing the last of its contents down her throat. She smacks her lips and shoves the cup back into the redhead’s hand before winking and clapping her roughly on the shoulder.

“Go get your girl, Red.” The blonde calls over her shoulder as she saunters off further into the crowded backyard.

Chloe, for her part, remains frozen in place, mouth still open and brows drawn tightly together in confusion. She glances side to side at the people around her, still astonished, but nobody is paying her any attention.

Finally, she blinks and shakes herself, remembering her priority: Beca.

…

After pushing her way back inside and depositing her yellow cup in the kitchen sink on her way upstairs, Chloe finds herself staring at an exasperated Emily, who is sitting on the floor, leaning face first against the door to the bathroom.

As Chloe nears, she can hear the girl mumbling into the wood, and she’s sure she would find it rather humorous if she wasn’t aware of the state of the person on the other side.

“Come on, Beca, please? Just open the door –“

“Emily?” The freshman nearly jumps out of her skin despite Chloe’s best attempts not to startle her. “Sorry, I just…How’s Beca?” She crosses the remaining space to the door and kneels down beside Emily.

The lanky brunette lets out a heavy breath bordering on a sob and chokes out a response in a shaky, concern-laden voice, “She’s been in there for, like, an hour, a-and it’s been almost forty-five minutes since she’s even said anything, and I don’t know what to do, she just… I can hear her in there, but she won’t talk to me!”

“Okay,” Chloe shushes the distressed girl, pulling her into a hug from their position on the floor, “It’s going to be okay. Can you tell me what happened?”

Emily takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “I don’t know, really. It started when Fat Amy pulled out a bottle of alcohol, vodka, I think, from the cupboard and just starting drinking straight from it and yelling things, and the next thing I know, everyone is drinking, but Beca wouldn’t let me have any because I’m underage,” She pauses to breathe and swallow thickly, “So then there’s music and more people knocking on the door, and Beca’s dragging me around the house with the rest of the Bellas because she doesn’t want me to feel pressured into doing anything, which, I mean, I totally appreciated because parties aren’t really my thing.”

Chloe nods along despite the rapid rate at which Emily is talking, encouraging the freshman to continue.

“Everyone started talking about, like, family issues though? I don’t know why, really. Beca was drinking the whole time; she had so many shots, I lost count,” Chloe raises her eyebrows, concern shining through. Emily continues, “I know, but I’m being serious. She waved me off and said something about just having a long day when I asked about it.

“Anyway, I told her I was going to get a glass of water, but I got caught up for a while in the kitchen because, uh,” She stops, going pink in the cheeks, “Because I was talking Benji. Um, but anyway, um, the next thing I know, I see Beca go running up the stairs, and it kind of looks like she’s crying? So, I follow her because I’m worried about her, you know?”

Chloe nods again. She does know.

“By the time I get up the stairs, she’s already locked herself in,” Emily gestures to the door in front of them, “And I can hear her crying. I kept asking what was wrong, telling her that we could talk about it if she would just open the door. A-and…and then,” She stops again, choking down a bought of tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Chloe rubs her shoulders soothingly, “Just breathe. You’re okay.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily nods to herself, running a hand through her hair, “She said…she said that—” Emily takes a deep breath before spitting the rest out as quickly as possible, gesturing awkwardly with her hands, “She said that she would open the door if I got her another drink, so I went downstairs and realized that I forgot ask what she wanted, so I just grabbed a random bottle and when I knocked on the door again she said she would open the door a crack so I could pass the drink through and she’d know I wasn’t lying about it, and that she’d open the door the rest of the way when she had it, but she just grabbed the bottle through the gap in the door and then slammed it shut again, and now she won’t say anything else.”

“What?!” Chloe starts before Emily has finished talking, incredulity exploding out of her as the freshman heaves for air. “You gave her more alcohol despite the fact that she was already drunk and crying in the bathroom?!” In Chloe’s shock, she releases Emily, who lets out a wail of despair before curling in on herself guiltily and burying her face in her knees.

“I know, I know, I’m so stupid! I honestly thought she’d open the door! I’m an idiot, and I didn’t think it through. I didn’t know what else to do, and I’m sorry!” Emily’s woeful words are laced with tears and muffled by the fabric of her jeans.

Despite her initial astonishment, shock, and anger, the redhead tries to backtrack, knowing that despite Emily’s overeager tendency to act before thinking, the girl’s heart was truly in the right place and she hadn’t meant any harm.

“No, no, it’s not that,” Chloe balks, moving to pat Emily awkwardly on the back, trying to comfort the girl, “I mean,” The redhead blows out a breath, “You shouldn’t have given it to her, but it was an honest mistake.”

Emily peeks an eye out at her. “Really? You mean that?”

“Yes,” Chloe tells her, wanting to quell the situation before upsetting the girl further, “It could have happened to anyone.”

“Okay,” Emily replies quietly after a minute of silence. She unfolds herself, wiping at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. “Thanks, Chloe.”

“Of course,” The redhead smiles at her before glancing at the bathroom door as if she had suddenly gained the power to see through it. “Now, why don’t you go back downstairs and take a break? I’ll get through to Beca.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll take good care of her, I promise.” Chloe whispers sincerely.

Emily nods to herself, accentuating a quick, “Yeah, right, okay,” before wiping a hand over face and extracting herself from Chloe’s arms again.

“Thanks, Chloe,” She calls out reverently to the redhead a final time before making her way down the stairs.

Chloe lets her answering smile follow the freshman’s retreating form, but it disappears as soon as the younger girl is out of sight.

The redhead turns to face the bathroom door immediately. She raises a tentative hand to the wood, bumping her knuckles lightly against the smooth surface in a gentle knock after a moment’s hesitation.

“Beca?”

She’s met with a resonating silence.

“Becs? It’s me,” The redhead pauses, flattening her palm against the door and leaning to rest the crown of her head next to it, her eyelids sliding closed as she implores the girl on the other side to respond. “It’s Chloe.”

More silence.

“Amy told me what happened.”

She hears a sound beyond the door, a muffled ‘thump’ that’s gone as soon as it comes.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

Chloe knows that Beca had a rough relationship with her family; Beca herself was the one to tell her. It took time, of course, as those things tend to do, but between late night confessions and heart-bearing, tear-filled speeches that she knew Beca was terrified of sharing, she had finally gotten the whole story, and, in turn, she had told some, if not all, of her own.

Over the years, their friendship had blossomed and bloomed into a connection that was simply beyond words, and Beca and Chloe both knew that the other was, irrefutably, in their corner no matter what, which is why Chloe can’t stand the fact that she wasn’t here. She hates that Beca was hurting and she wasn’t there to help her through it. She should’ve been here to help.

In her mind, in a small corner in the back of her mind, Chloe knows that she shouldn’t feel guilty, that there wasn’t anything she could have done that would have brought her back to the Bella house in time to save Beca from the happenings of the last hour, but she does feel guilty.

Tears have begun to sting behind her closed eyelids, and Chloe is vaguely aware of more sounds coming from behind the door, increasing in volume, but she’s too caught up in her head to pay them any attention.

“I’m sorry, Becs. I should have been here for you.” Her throat is thick with emotion, and she can feel the tears begin to slide slowly down her cheeks. She whispers a delicate, “I should have been here,” that cracks and shatters into a sob on the last syllable into the door, and even though she knows Beca can’t possibly hear her when she’s speaking so quietly, she feels like she’s bearing her soul.

Chloe jumps, launching herself off of the door and further into the hallway, when, a moment later, she hears the unmistakable click of the lock on the door.

The redhead waits for the door to open, but it never does. She hears several more telltale sounds: ‘thunk’, ‘thunk’, ‘clang’, and then silence sets in once more. Chloe counts to sixty in her head after the last noise rings out before slowly rising to her feet and moving back toward the door.

She raises a hand to the door and sets it gently on the knob, turning it slowly. When the knob sticks and refuses to turn anymore, she pushes lightly, not fully expecting it to give beneath her weight.

She is happily surprised when it does.

The hinges creek as Chloe pushes the door open, and her heart breaks at the sight that greets her when she peeks around the wooden frame.

Beca is sitting at the foot of bathtub with her back to the door, curled into a ball that, Chloe thinks sadly, makes the brunette look smaller and more vulnerable than she ever has before.

Chloe takes a step into the room and closes the door behind her, hesitating a moment before sitting down on the white tile floor.

Neither of them say anything, and Chloe tries counting again to fill the silence, watching the steady, miserable shake of Beca’s shoulders with her own tear-filled eyes, not knowing if her desire to hold the DJ so tightly that her own teeth chatter with each heaving breath that enters the brunette’s lungs would help or hurt the situation.

(She makes it to twenty before she feels like her world is ready to implode.)

“Bec?”

The single syllable seems to shatter whatever resolve Beca had to keep her distance from Chloe because she turns and flings herself face first into Chloe’s lap with a gut-wrenching gasp, clinging to the fabric of her shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded in this moment.

Chloe’s arms move mechanically, operating on pure instinct, as she wraps Beca up in a bone-crushing hug, pressing herself into every available inch of the brunette and breathing her in.

They sit there like that, unmoving, save for the occasional heave of the brunette’s shoulders, and the responding tears that drip off of the tip of Chloe’s nose, until Chloe’s back aches from being hunched over and the smell of the bitter alcohol drifting off of Beca’s breath is overwhelming in every sense of the word, and yet, Chloe refuses to move. She will not pull away from the embrace first. The mere thought of letting go of Beca causes her to tighten her grip around the DJ’s lean frame.

The action serves to jolt Beca out of whatever place she had withdrawn to inside her head, however, and after a moment of restless shifting back and forth in the redhead’s embrace, she sits up completely. Chloe extracts her interlocked arms from around her when she feels the brunette push up against them.

Beca and Chloe stare at each other wordlessly, taking in one another’s puffy eyes and smeared mascara.

(The brunette’s heavy eyeliner is so smudged that the dark, ringed lines almost touch her cheekbone. Despite the situation, and even though the visible tear tracks on her face better resemble a child’s abstract watercolor painting than anything else, Chloe can’t help but marvel at Beca’s raw, breath-taking beauty.)

Beca is the one to break the silence.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one crying incessantly,” She drawls thickly, a slight slur topping the words.

“Couldn’t help it,” The redhead replies truthfully, lifting her lips in a lopsided smile that Beca manages to match.

“You messed up your makeup,” Beca tells her after a minute of staring, her smirk dropping. Her eyes well with tears again, “Your makeup always looks so good, I’m sorry I messed it up.” She plants her face in her palms as the tears start up again.

“No, no, no,” Chloe surges forward and presses herself into the DJ’s side, locking her arms around Beca like a security blanket again, resting her chin on the brunette’s shoulder, “That’s my fault. Don’t even worry about it.” After a minute, she tries to lighten the mood, “You should be less worried about my makeup, and more worried about your own.” She giggles quietly, “You look like a drowned raccoon.”

She’s worried when she feels Beca’s shoulders begin to shake more heavily, but then Beca’s sitting up and laughing like a toddler watching a puppet show. At the sound, Chloe lights up brighter than the Christmas tree that she’ll drag Beca with her to pick out in a month’s time.

(Beca will roll her eyes and complain just like she has for the last three Christmases because, “For real, Chlo, why do we have to freeze our butts off picking out a real tree when there’s a nice, warm department store a block away from campus that sells artificial ones for like thirty bucks?”, and Chloe will insist and remind her that it’s a Bella tradition, despite the fact that she made that up years ago just to get the brunette to go tree shopping with her, and Beca will roll her eyes again and call her a ‘weirdo’ but go along with it as if that wasn’t what she had been planning to do in the first place.)

When the duo’s collective laughter subsides and Beca turns in the redhead’s arms to look Chloe in the eye again, Chloe takes a chance, asking, “Really, though, Becs. Are you okay?”

Beca’s eyes slide to the floor and her wide, drunken smile drops a fraction, but, to her credit, she doesn’t tear up again.

“Yeah…I mean, I guess,” She blows out a breath that shoots a strand of her ruffled hair to the other side of her face. “I don’t really know why I reacted like that. It’s nothing I haven’t had to face before.”

“You know I’m always here, right? I’m here if you need to talk,” Chloe whispers seriously, trying to push down the voices in her head that are screaming “But you weren’t here this time, were you?”.

“I know.” Beca tells her. The DJ pulls her lips off to the side and raises her eyebrows, shifting her gaze back to Chloe’s baby blues and rubbing a hand under nose. “I think I’m just really drunk.”

The redhead hums. “Emily mentioned something about too many shots and too little time,” Chloe tells her, raising her own eyebrows.

Beca barks out another laugh, “Hell, if that’s not true, then my name’s not Beca Badass Mitchell.”

“Beca,” Chloe tries and fails to hold in a snicker, “Your middle name is not ‘badass’.”

“Since when?!”

Because Beca looks both deathly serious and on the verge of tears again, Chloe decides it’s time to change the subject. “Have you had anything nonalcoholic to drink tonight? Any water?” She adds when Beca looks confused.

“Oh. Nope.” Beca pops the ‘p’, smacking her lips together, flicking her lids to the ceiling in contemplation. “I am kind of thirsty, though. Oh, wait!” Her eyes light up and she crawls out of Chloe’s arms, reaching over the ceramic edge of the bathtub.

Chloe leans back onto her palms, watching curiously.

When the inebriated brunette pulls back, the redhead watching her from behind, Chloe figures out what Beca has cradled to her chest only when she tips her head back lifts it to her lips.

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Chloe launches herself forward, snagging the bottle before the liquid reaches Beca’s lips, cutting off the protest that leaps from the DJ’s throat immediately. “No, you need water, not more alcohol.” Chloe sets the bottle on the bathroom counter firmly.

“But, Chloeee,” Beca’s whine is high-pitched and toothy.

“No but’s. Now come on, let’s get you up.” Chloe stands before reaching down and hooking her hands around Beca’s elbow for support as the brunette struggles to follow.

“You said ‘butts’,” Beca snickers at herself, wobbling at the knees.

Chloe, who had previously been giving the brunette a playful glare as she helped her rise shakily to her feet, breaks out into laughter, doubling over when Beca’s subsequent cackles cause her to nearly face plant.

“Shit!” Beca exclaims, trying her best to brace herself as her legs buckle beneath her. “Dude?! What the hell?! I could have died!” She screeches when Chloe continues laughing.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Chloe tells her in between giggles, her grip on the brunette’s elbow being the only thing that had stopped her from getting a facefull of ceramic floor tiles.

With Chloe’s help, Beca manages to claw her way to her feet again, pouting at the redhead’s muffled snickering.

“Here, can you get up on the counter? This’ll all be a lot easier if we don’t have to worry about you falling over every other minute.” The glare Beca gives Chloe only serves to reignite the redhead’s giggles.

Once the brunette is settled on the counter, her back pressed against up against the mirror for support, and Chloe is sure she can let go without Beca falling over, she does, although somewhat begrudgingly.

She reaches for some makeup remover and soaks it into a tissue.

“Stay still, I’m going to help you take your makeup off.” Chloe tells her. Beca nods in response, and her eyelids slide shut.

Chloe rests a thumb on the brunette’s chin for support and dabs the tissue around Beca’s face, gently wiping the dark substance from her pale skin and erasing the physical evidence of the night’s tribulations.

It takes several minutes to clear the mess, and when she finishes, Chloe lowers the tissue, taking advantage of her close-proximity to the brunette, letting her eyes roam around Beca’s face for a little longer than is probably appropriate. She takes in the smoothness of her cheeks, the flawlessness of the skin around her lips, and the light, almost nonexistent splash of freckles across her nose, unwittingly trailing a finger across each area as her eyes move on, greedily taking in each breath-taking detail.

When Beca lets her eyes drift open and she catches Chloe’s own, the redhead tries not to feel like she just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

(She fails miserably.)

“All done,” Chloe whispers.

After another moment of silent staring between the two, the redhead clears her throat, averts her eyes, and gives Beca a small smile before turning to deposit the used tissue in the trashcan by the toilet.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

“Wow, already?” Chloe knows Beca is smirking before she turns around. “At least buy a girl dinner first, Chlo, geez.”

Chloe giggles out a, “Shut up,” that has absolutely no bite behind it, and Beca sticks her tongue out at the redhead in response.

“Here, let me help,” Chloe offers, reaching her hands out to grab onto Beca as she moves to get off of the counter.

Beca scoots to the very edge and jumps off before Chloe gets a solid grip.

“Wait, Beca–“

Despite the short distance, the DJ’s legs buckle upon impact with the floor, and she topples sideways into the wall, pulling Chloe with her. The redhead barely manages to throw an arm up against the wall before either of their heads slam into it.

Chloe looks down at Beca, fixing her with a faux-serious glare. Beca withers for only a minute before breaking down into a fit of giggles, and the redhead can’t help but join in.

Several minutes later, slightly breathless after their latest laughing fit, Chloe manages to drag Beca onto her feet again.

The redhead reaches behind her and pulls the bathroom door open, leading Beca slowly out of the bathroom and down the hall. “Come on, Becs, easy does it.”

...

“Chloe?”

The redhead hums questioningly.

“Will you make me a sandwich?”

Chloe is currently staring into the closet on Fat Amy’s side of the room because Beca, only moments before, in her drunken state, had decided that taking her shirt and pants off before locating her pajamas was the best possible decision she could have made.

Chloe, for her part, had whipped her attention to the other side of the room so fast that several of the vertebra in neck cracked.

(It’s nothing that she hasn’t seen before, really, but the redhead knows that Beca isn’t as blasé about nudity as she is and that she hadn’t been thinking properly in her alcohol-addled state, and she respects the DJ’s privacy enough to turn away when really she wants nothing more than to drink in every inch of exposed skin and trace her eyes over every curve until she has them all memorized.)

“A sandwich?” Chloe directs the question at a neon yellow t-shirt that burns her corneas.

“Yeah!” Beca chatters excitedly behind her, stumbling slightly as she attempts to pull an old pair of Barden sweatpants that she stole from Chloe over her legs. “Dude, you make, like, the best sandwiches! They’re almost as amazing as the prospective love child of unicorns and Beyoncé, and that’s, like, pretty damn amazing.”

Chloe giggles, and flinches when Beca pokes her in the stomach a moment later; she hadn’t heard the brunette cross the room. The redhead turns with a smile, a sarcastic reply nipping to be set free, stopping suddenly and rolling her eyes to the ceiling when she realizes Beca’s still not dressed.

“Seriously, Bec? It’s been, like, five minutes and you don’t even have your pants on all the way.” She waves a hand, gesturing at the single leg that Beca has managed to place in her sweatpants and acknowledging the fact that the brunette still has yet to don a shirt.

“I was distracted by sandwiches. That is a victimless crime, and you know it.” Beca pokes Chloe in the stomach again, laughing when Chloe jumps and curls in on herself, before sauntering back to her side of the room to finish dressing.

…

Fifteen minutes later, Chloe has Beca tucked into her bed, propped up onto her side with several pillows. A glass of water and bottle of Advil sit on the nearby table, an empty trashcan lies on the floor next to the bed just in case, and the brunette herself is half asleep and still asking for a sandwich.

“Okay, Becs,” Chloe gives in after the twentieth-something time Beca asks. “I’ll go make you a sandwich. You have to stay here though, okay?”

Beca blinks up at her through heavy lids and a small smile, nodding seriously. “‘Kay.”

Chloe leaves her with a smile of her own as she departs the bedside. Beca’s eyes bore into the redhead’s back from behind, her smile falling with each step Chloe takes away from her as she realizes that getting a sandwich means temporarily losing her own personal ball of sunshine.

(And drunk or not, that is not something that Beca is willing to give up. Ever.)

Chloe’s hand barely makes it to the doorknob before Beca is calling out again.

“Wait, Chloe,” Beca sounds panicked all of a sudden as she rolls onto her back, thrashing under the sheets in her struggle to sit up.

Chloe, who is back at Beca’s side immediately, puts a hand on her shoulder that stills the brunette’s wiggling frame. Beca’s stormy eyes meet Chloe’s, and the redhead is startled by how sober the brunette suddenly appears. “Don’t leave me.”

The redhead’s breath hitches when Beca reaches a hand toward her face, her fingers extending to stroke softly along her cheekbone. The brunette’s hands are cold, but Chloe doesn’t dare move.

(The truth is, she doesn’t ever want to move. She’d stay here, staring into Beca’s wide, vulnerable eyes, forever if she could.)

“I have to leave if you want that sandwich, silly.” Chloe eases out a breath, doing her best to appear unaffected by the delicate fingertips tracing and mapping her features.

(The fact that she is completely unsuccessful is not lost on her.)

“I don’t want a sandwich,” Beca mumbles, beginning to succumb to the alluring pull of sleep. “I want you.”

(And Chloe’s always been good with words, but, here, in this moment, the entirety of her vocabulary has vanished, and all that she can do is tangle her fingers with the ones resting on her chin and smile so widely it hurts.

Beca looks small surrounded by her cocoon of fluffy pillows and the many blankets that have pooled around the slope of her waist; she looks like a rejection would shatter her and send the ragged pieces spiraling off into oblivion, and Chloe has absolutely no intention of walking away from the brunette, now, or ever.)

“Okay,” The redhead whispers, powerless to deny such a genuine request, and all too happy to oblige, “I’ll stay.”

Beca’s smile blooms, rivaling her own in size and luminosity, and Chloe can’t help but compare it to the splatter of stars visible beyond the brunette’s window, as cliché as she knows that it is.

The DJ pulls back the covers, inviting Chloe join her, and the redhead does, gladly. She clambers over Beca as gently as she can, weaving an arm around her waist, tangling their legs together under the sheets, and settling into the brunette’s back.

Beca tangles her fingers around the arm wrapped around her waist, squeezing herself as far back into Chloe’s chest as physically possible. She sighs contently, her head sinking into her pillow.

Chloe nuzzles the tip of her nose into Beca’s hair, content to stay there until she’s forced from this bubble of happiness by the mediocre responsibilities that accompany their everyday reality.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chloe whispers the question into the brunette’s hair.

“I will be,” Beca tells her truthfully, her lids drooping. “Just…will you stay with me?”

Chloe tightens her hold around the brunette, and tells her, truthfully, “Always.”

#bechloe #fic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #pitch perfect 2 #god i love them so fucking much

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