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Does Ratio have snake eyes because of Delphi? 👀
#He's kind of charming but some of his gestures are the same as Jing Yuan's such as the hand movement and the head tilt#so maybe that's why?#Anyway... I guess being linked to snakes somewhat was more or less predictable given the overall apollonian air#Still 3/4 wondering 1/4 wishing he is related in some way to the Masked Fools or the Mourning Actors#Make this Nietzsch.e enjoyer happier (still) please#Also geometry is nice and pythagoreanism is among my favourite things#but if accompanying that and the platonism he had some mathematical analysis going on as well then it would all be perfect#Perfect for what? Well‚ my tastes and interests mainly haha#I talk too much
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get you alone | ljn ( m )
ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.
pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k
a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !!
if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!
there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway.
he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you.
the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable.
and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire.
he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more.
he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you.
“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”
“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”
“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.”
“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.”
“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”
“hm?”
“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.”
“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”
“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.”
even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.
“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.”
“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”
“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily.
he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at.
it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?
you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it.
sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!
it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together.
but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try.
your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features.
the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question.
by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors.
he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips.
“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”
“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.”
“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles.
“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.”
“thanks to me, you mean.”
“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”
“can you leave it as homework?”
“not a chance.”
you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.”
“what kind of rewards did she give you?”
“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”
“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused.
“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.”
“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is.
he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile.
“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”
“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly.
“you were serious about that?” he laughs.
“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”
jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next.
“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.”
he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so.
when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking.
“sunbae, wha—”
“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.”
he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that.
it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused.
he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours.
he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact.
still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you.
you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.
this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one.
“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features.
“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?”
“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins.
“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”
you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”
“you seem disappointed.”
“i’m not.”
“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.”
“it’s not that.”
“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”
you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading.
“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.
“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.”
“was that all?” you press.
“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”
“well — do you always like to play games?”
“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”
“you did that just because i did well last week?”
“of course.”
“well, i did well today, too.”
“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand.
“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words.
“tell me what you really want, then.”
you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert.
you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later.
“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.
you’d done really well today.
jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it.
in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders.
truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced.
“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”
“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.”
in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more.
and so, he decides.
his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth.
you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him.
“sunbae, please…”
with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it.
you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force.
“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”
jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt.
he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue.
you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you?
he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.
come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you.
you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis.
“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?”
“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”
“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”
“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.”
“proud enough to give me a reward?”
he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be.
“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?”
“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —”
“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”
“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.”
“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”
your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do.
“please, sunbae?”
how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.
jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.”
your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you.
“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.”
you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips.
you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.
and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come.
“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”
“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”
“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered.
“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?”
even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance.
“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”
“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”
jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit.
“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”
“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”
“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”
jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm.
“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”
you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.
“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”
“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.”
“but—”
“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.”
and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you.
“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.”
“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—”
“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.”
a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.
“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.”
“does that worry you?”
“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”
“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”
you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head.
“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”
with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly.
“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice.
“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”
and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.
“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.”
“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.”
“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”
but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can.
“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”
“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.”
your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume.
“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”
“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—”
he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you.
“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?”
“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”
“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.”
“m’close, so close —”
“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.”
you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out.
you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off.
“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”
“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”
he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down.
when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.
“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck.
“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”
#jeno x reader#jeno x you#jeno scenario#jeno scenarios#jeno imagines#jeno drabbles#jeno imagine#jeno drabble#jeno smut#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#nct dream x you#nct x you#nct drabbles#nct dream drabbles#nct dream imagines#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct dream scenarios#nct smut
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AN ECCENTRIC'S ENTROPY ୨♡୧
PAIRING: (Dr Ratio x Professor! Reader)
WARNINGS: Suggestive
SYNOPSIS: For people who get into each other's pants a lot, you sure do know how to piss each other off...
WORD COUNT: 1k
Divider by @/cafekitsune
Entropy: The measure of the degree of disorder within a substance
“Will you stop your incessant whining?” Dr. Veritas Ratio groans, “I’d have thought spending more time with me would have caused your IQ to surpass at least a vegetable.” You roll your eyes and slam your new research paper down on your colleague's desk.
“If you didn’t want to be surrounded by idiots, you shouldn’t have decided to teach at a university. Even if Stellaron University is prestigious, you’re still teaching barely adults.” You sigh with faux pity. “But I guess you didn’t think that far, poor Dr. Ratio.” Mockingly, you pet his head, the silky locks of violet slipping through your fingers as he grabs your wrist and forces it back on the desk.
“I’m not reading your paper.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed and a scoff leaves his lips. Even though he looks up at you from his desk, the way he reclines on his chair so casually makes you feel small. It has always been like this. Veritas and his obnoxious attitude driving you up the walls. A prodigy yourself, the pursuit of knowledge has never been a struggle to you. Yes, it was challenging, but that was part of the fun. The thrill of tearing apart a formula and sinking your teeth in until it churns out a set of numbers that you like. This allowed you to be the top professor at Stellaron for almost three years straight, until Veritas. Veritas, who opposes almost everything that you do, from the way you prefer to use a whiteboard and pen and him a blackboard and chalk. The way your coffee is dark and his is sweetened with milk and sugar to the point it doesn’t even look like coffee anymore. You didn’t have a problem with this until he published a scientific paper which had quoted your own paper published a month prior, and pointed out how it was not mathematically viable. You still remember the smirk he wore on his face when he emailed you the manuscript for peer review, the audacity of this man to ask you to proofread the very paper he dedicated hours to just to prove your own wrong!
Naturally, your response is to ask him to do the same. But not with one email, but with twenty scheduled emails every other day. Sometimes, you like to add little emojis to the subject of your emails, and other times you embed links into the email that isn’t your paper, but wikihow articles. This pettiness has caused many encounters with him, some ending rather… intimately.
Of course, Veritas has not proofread your paper, and you don’t expect him to, so he has no idea how much you’ve referenced his paper and disproved it. But you know how much it ticks him off regardless, the urge to tear through each of your arguments, even if logically speaking, arguing with you is a waste of time. This degree of disorder is what drives him crazy. You sew chaos into his life as he does to yours, and as the entropy of a heating substance increases the entropy of its surroundings, so too does the tension-filled competitiveness from one of you, causes the other to maniacally lust to overpower the other.
“Come on, read it. I know you want to.” You slide the paper closer to him, your hands sliding across the epoxy finish of the oak desk. “Unless… You’re scared I’m right.” He stares up at you with eyes the same hue of gold as the award trophies that line the shelves of his classroom, and cocks a brow. He stands up, leaning over the desk and moving his face closer to yours. His cologne almost overpowers your perfume, the musky scent of pinewood and berries he reserves for winter mixing with your vanilla scented perfume, and it sends you into overdrive.
“Oh? I think someone is too overconfident.” He remarks. You’ve noticed that there’s always something up his sleeve, something that he uses at the last minute to defeat you, but you’re getting better at recognising his patterns. And the way his deep voice becomes breathier, softer, akin to a snake’s sinister hiss, you understand that you’ve gotten under his skin.
“You don’t think enough, Veritas, that’s your writing skills are bare bones and your papers hard to understand.”
“Shut that mouth of yours.” He grits his teeth further, finally sitting on the edge of his desk and flipping over your paper. You let out a small laugh and sit at his chair. He looks down at you disapprovingly as you do so, but you pay no mind to the fact you’ve sat yourself down on his throne, because your paper will definitely take him down a peg or two.
“In your bibliography, you spelt ‘accessed’ on your third source wrong.” He points out, taking a red pen from his desk and removing the cap with his teeth, circling the typo as you burn with humiliation. “Oh my, your spacing for the first page and last page are different. How irritating it must be for your readers to be accustomed to one layout and then switch to another.”
“It is just spacing, Veritas.”
“It’s more than that, dear, people like some organisation in their scientific papers. And your way of writing is chaotic! I should have known just by your handwriting and layout in sums.” He tuts, petting your head in faux pity just as you did to him seconds ago.
“Read the damn paper, Dr. Ratio.” You grit your teeth, now irritated that you’ve dedicated hours and hours bashing him in the footnotes, researching just so he can get a taste of his own medicine, for you to be corrected on your formatting.
“Patience.” There is something downright Dionysean about his voice, if it were a colour, it would be the seductive shade of red wine, and just as addictive. Addictive like the many times where you two have come too close for comfort, like the one time you two were locked in the storage closet together, and you felt his strong arms encase your body as he helped you push the door open from behind. Or this one time at a work event where he made fun of your table manners and swiped ice cream off of your lips to prove his point. It made you feel red hot, just like the colour of his voice, and the way he acts too hot around you, too excitable. And you wanted more. To make a man who is cold and reserved morph into a competitive beast raring to go and one up you at every turn is no small feat. The dichotomy makes your head spin, and this side of him only you know wants to make you explore him more. And you know just from the way he cocks his head and slides off the desk, that he’s switching from sub-zero aloofness to scorching hot opposition.
He grabs the arms of the chair you sit in to push it so far it hits the wall so you are cornered against the blackboard.
“Actually.” He muses, tilting your head up and sliding your hair to one side. “I want you to read it.” He whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Read it, and I’ll give you,” he encircles your waist with one hand, “appropriate feedback.”
He hands you the manuscript, and kisses your neck softly. His other hand, now free, unzips your skirt and you gasp as his fingers venture between your legs.
“Start reading. You’re good at running your mouth, aren’t you? Let’s see how long that attitude lasts…”
#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#dr ratio#veritas ratio#hsr dr ratio#dr ratio x reader#dr ratio x you#hsr#hsr fluff#star rail#honkai star rail imagines
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𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒
Character(s). Xiao, Scaramouche, Kaedehara Kazuha, Venti, Aether, and Shikanoin Heizou
Synopsis. How I see the 6reeze as College Students (with a bit of reader)💖
Fluff
Kinda Xiao x Reader (NO ONE CAN STOP ME)
Includes other characters.
I’ll be graduating this June and I’ll forever be sad that I’m not in the same univ. as them 🥺 If someone writes a fic with this theme, please tag me 😭
Xiao, Kazuha, and Venti are roommates in the University Dorm house, Scaramouche lives with his aunt that lives near the univ, Aether with his sister, and Heizou alone.
Although, most of the time, they have a sleepover at the dorms because Heizou argues that “You guys will be the reason if we’re late for that 7 am class if you don’t let us sleep here.”
No, he just wanna spend time with his friends.
Xiao excelsin mathematics, Kazuha and Venti in literature and music, Aether’s an average in everything, Scaramouche doesn’t care but pass subjects anyways, and Heizou is good at everything.
Heizou and Aether makes sure that everyone in the circle is studying and listening while Kazuha is in charge of checking if everyone’s eating right. Xiao always gets an earful because the man lives in instants.
Scaramouche and Xiao are the reason no one dares to touch and taunt their group, but Scaramouche will falter at the gaze of her aunt, and Xiao is the most reserved in their circle.
Venti sings. He sings a low, gentle tone when everyone feels exhausted after a long day at the university, he hums softly when he feels like one of his friends are having an anxiety attack, but can’t talk about it (He always know, he’s the most observant) and he sings his heart out to cheer anyone.
Aether and Kazuha are the middleman. Scara’s being an asshole to one of their classmates? Kazuha will be shooting him a glare from across the room. Venti being the chaos himself? Aether will come and calm down the oh-so energetic lad.
And oh, they all know about Xiao’s little crush on you, with—again, as the calmest— Kazuha and Aether giving the best advice. Aether sometimesasking hissistertobring you to one of their friend dates so his friend can spend some time with you out of the campus.
Scaramouche will be throwing disgusting looks teasingly at Xiao when he notices that the latter is lovestruck, earning a glare with the same energy.
Venti, contrary to popular belief, is the most helpful. This is because he’s also your friend. He tells Xiao one dinner at the dormwhat or what not to do when it comes to you, with the said man giving him a “I don’t need that. I don’t like her” of which Kazuha sighed into.
“What was that for? I really don’t!” can be heard throughout the room.
And it was Scaramouche who had made him realized that he did like you.
“Well if you don’t like her, then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I pursue her?”
Cue the pissed off Xiao halfheartedly admitting he is head over heels for you.
Since their group is always the hot topic at school— please, they’re all good looking, academically good (somehow), kind of rich, etc., you’re genuinely surprised when one of them falls for you. And Venti will laugh it off because you are, if not better, as good as his friends.
They didn’t help Xiao in the confession part, though. They want their friend to do it himself because it will only be worth it by then.
But the pride and joy they’ve felt when he did? It’s comparable to yours.
“WE RAISED THAT BABY”
When you started dating, you find yourself always almost hanging around their friend group.
Scaramouche still throwing disgusted looks at the sight of you and Xiao, with your boyfriend returning a sharp stare.
Your kind of worried but Kazuha tells you that it’s affection and love between the two of them, earning a fit of chuckle from Heizhou who kind of became one of your best friend aside from Venti in the group. Dragging you here and there to play games.
No one can touch you under their watch. Much like Lumine, Aether’s sister. They’re so protective of you and Xiao is thankful for that.
And if they didn’t flinch at Heizhou and Venti’s sarcastic remarks, or Scaramouche’s glares, then they will surely run home crying when Xiao enters the picture.
Kazuha and Aether in the sidelines making sure no one will go to jail.
#adeptus xiao#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact xiao x reader#xiao x reader#xiao x you#xiao imagines#xiao genshin impact#scaramouche genshin impact#genshin impact kunikuzushi#scaramouche x you#kaedahara kazuha#genshin kaedahara kazuha#kaedehara kazuha x reader#kaedehara kazuha#heizou imagines#genshin impact college au#genshin impact xiao#genshin impact#6reeze#aether#genshin xiao#genshin impact imagines#genshin headcanons#genshin impact x reader#genshin fanfic#xiao#xiao fluff#genshin icons
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first of all CONGRATS ON YOUR AMAZING MILESTONE!!! Wowwwwwww I’m so happy for u 🥺💘💘💘 you deserve all the love and praise in the world!
𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 + 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞
plsss I beg 🥺 either for tasm!peter or miguel o’hara or even joel miller 😭😭😭 I’d think about idiots in love… both pinning for each other but too oblivious to the others feelings. everyone can see it but them. if you can make it super fluffy I’d dieeeeee. I’m obsessed with all 3 of them but tasm!peter will always have my heart <3
hope u have the loveliest of days sweet ! 💘💘💘
luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you so much baby!! have a good day too ♡ shy fat fem!reader
"I look weird," Peter says.
You bite your lip in surprise. Peter reaches for you like he might take your face into his hand, but you bow out of his touch. "No," you say, hissing at the sudden pain, "you look nice, you don't look weird."
"A haircut was a bad idea. Now you're injured," he says with a laugh.
You bring your hand away from your lip and find it unsullied. Peter wants to look anyhow, fighting you for a hand on your cheek. A couple of months ago you would've squirmed away from him, worried he'd feel the soft line of your jaw and drop his hand in disgust, but these days you let him do whatever he wants.
"Pout at me," he demands.
You, reluctant, poke your lip out. Peter has the gall to touch it with his thumb, seemingly unaware of the shiver it prompts. He smells like cherry gum today, a little wedge of it between his molars as he strokes your face and pushes you gently back into your chair. He's a sick individual, he doesn't even know what he's doing. Peter's joking and doting is done as your friend.
"What inspired the haircut?" you ask. He hasn't gone too short with it since his first year of college, but the cute little flicks under his ears have been chopped.
"Kept getting stuck in my hat."
"What hat?" you ask.
"My baseball cap."
"Since when do you wear a baseball cap?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," Peter croons, to the outrage of the women sitting across from you. They shush simultaneously, two pit vipers.
You put your head down, sheepish. Peter rolls his desk chair closer to yours as he chuckles under his breath, to copy your notes no doubt, which is ridiculous. He's the smarter of the two of you. He speaks in mathematics like it's English, chemistry something innate.
You knock your pencil into his hand, "Do your own work."
"But you've already done it for me." Peter moves your hand aside, his naked arm rubbing up against yours, rigid cord against softer fat. "Thanks, beautiful."
You roll your eyes at him but let him copy your work. After a few minutes you swear you can feel eyes on you, glancing up to find the pit vipers talking behind a laptop screen. They look at you at the same time and then quickly look away, spelling out for you what it is that's so interesting. People do this all the time, puzzling at you and Pete like it's insanity. The majority of people aren't as judgemental, but you can guess exactly what it is that they're thinking. Why is he spending his time with her? Handsome, muscled Peter and meek, chubby you.
It's not the most important thing in your life, but it is a constant. Some people think fat is unlovable, and the rest love without qualm. Peter hasn't ever once been mean to you since he met you; your weight can't bother him. If anything, you'd think he quite likes the way you look. Peter's always calling you beautiful, pretty girl, telling you to get changed before you put other girls out.
It's a shame he doesn't like you as anything more than a friend.
"I think those girls are looking at us," Peter whispers, pulling you toward him by the shoulder. It's not unlike him to touch you suddenly. "Is the haircut that bad?"
"It looks nice, Pete!" you insist.
He wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing his cheek against yours quickly. You choke through a laugh. "Daww," he says, "you're just saying that."
He giggles as you push him away, "Get off me, you loon," you say.
"You're the loon, loon," he says back. His cheeks are pinking. His sweater must be hotter than it looks.
"Can you just accept it, Peter? Your hair looks nice, you look great, stop worrying about what people think." You look away as you say it, startled by your own brazenness.
He gasps at you. "Hypocrite! You're the worst hypocrite ever, you're always worrying about what people think, and it's stupid because you're so pretty." He shakes his from side to side, eyes dramatically downcast. "Breaks my heart. A babe in denial."
"Stop kidding around, we have too many assignments for this," you beg, tapping your pencil under the remaining questions you've yet to answer.
"A babe in denial and distress."
You give up. He's overwhelmingly affectionate, homework sucks, and you're ashamed to know that if you flop down in defeat, he'll hug your arm. He always does. Diving into your space, Peter breathes cool cherry at your cheek as he says, "You know I'm gonna explain them to you until you get them, sweetheart. Don't stress."
You put yourself in this position, but his closeness has your heart skipping. "I'm not stressed."
"You're too cute to stress."
"Pete…"
"Sorry, I'll stop, I'm stopping. Pass your notebook, I'll fix your equation."
You pass him your notebook without looking up. You need a few seconds to collect yourself. "Thank you, Peter."
He sounds dangerously fond, the kind of tone that feeds your delusion, as though he could like you as you like him, "You're welcome."
#tasm peter parker#tasm peter x reader#tasm peter parker imagine#tasm peter parker x you#tasm peter parker x reader#tasm x reader#peter parker x reader#tasm!spiderman x reader#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter imagine#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm! peter parker x reader#spiderman x reader#peter parker oneshot#peter parker blurb#peter parker imagine#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#spiderman x you#spiderman fanfiction#luveline's 40k party
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ngl I always find it wild to see Star Wars stuff that's like "if you think about it in terms of realistic statistics/science then..." about almost any aspect of it.
I mean, what about the Star Wars films gives the impression that this universe abides by realistic statistics, or realistic anything else? SW is broadly a fantasy epic projected onto an IMAX screen with a space background painted on it. Yeah, the planets and moons in the films almost always have improbably limited biomes and two major locations max, because narratively these locations are usually just fantasy city-states with space aesthetics.
Starships travel at the speed of plot and we simply jump past the amount of time that presumably is passing, and sort of imply the passage of that time through shifts in the character dynamics. But this passage of time cannot be analyzed with any kind of consistency because the only logic governing it is the pace of the story.
Just how long did it take the Empire to send a full contingent of forces to Dantooine, search the entire planet, find the Rebel base, and then report back to Tarkin between one scene and another? No one says and no one appears to care. How long did it take Han and Leia to reach Bespin and what exactly went on between them while Luke was, in the same time frame, going through a protracted training over multiple days at an absolute minimum? ¯\_(ツ)_/��
How do giant space worms survive inside asteroids that somehow have an Earth-approximate gravitational field and I guess an atmosphere? Shhhh don't think about it. The point of the sequence is not "how does the giant space worm subsist off this random asteroid and how does it breathe and how does gravity work in this context, seriously" but that the giant worm sequence is fucking sick.
There's probably some after the fact EU justification invented by people who had nothing to do with the original writing of the space worm (or perhaps there are several mutually incompatible explanations) and I am profoundly disinterested in them. Nothing could make this even slightly realistic and it was never intended to be. Star Wars sings space shanties at scientific/mathematical realism as it sails past on a completely different ship going in the exact opposite direction.
And I do mean "sails" because while astronomy might tell us that space is unfamiliar and wild on a level we as Earthbound lifeforms can barely comprehend, Star Wars understands that space is basically an ocean, yet with stars and cool but survivable planets in it, or sometimes it's air but combined with a super cool space background so you can have early 20th century aerial combat that would make no sense in actual space conditions and doesn't need to.
"If you consider relativity, then just running the Empire would be..." General relativity does not govern the galaxy far, far away. Space magic does. I'm not sure there are even time zones.
#hard to overstate the degree to which every attempt to explain#the empire keeping a tentacle monster in a trash compactor for their moon-sized roving death ray murder fortress#just seems incredibly ill-considered. drawing our attention to how weird and improbable all this stuff is does not help#and most people have no trouble accepting bizarre star wars stuff as just part of the 'wacky space fairy tale' logic#there's this really bizarre viral post about how the sw universe actually isn't a fantastic universe bc most inhabitants#would probably never possess or interact with the literal magic imbuing it—but that's missing the basic structural underpinnings#of the story#it doesn't matter how many people can use the force (in the original trilogy very few!) or believe in it or ever see it or anything#the fabric of the story and its setting are governed by fantastic rationales and elements that don't work in rationalistic terms#anghraine babbles#long post#sw fanwank#star wars#sweu critical
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SWTD Theory
Still Wakes the Deep has been a huge brainworm for me the past few weeks, so I wanted to make a post with one of my takes. Someone’s probably thought of this already, but I can’t find anything about it, so here I go.
I’m gonna take this time to shout out a little sub theory of mine that plays a bit of a part in my main point.
For a little background, in populations of organisms, there are limiting factors on their growth and spread. Think of it as a series of funnels of different sizes: the rate of liquid that can flow through is going to be determined by the narrowest funnel. For example. if there’s a population that has ample food, space, and whatever else it needs, but has a restricted access to water, that water is going to limit how large that population could grow.
Before the Shape was dug up by the drill, it was probably dormant in the sea bed, doing its best to survive, the same as any other organism. Down where it was dark, wet, and cold, I think it had one main limiting factor: oxygen.
I don’t think the Shape can efficiently exchange gas underwater. Most of the untouched bodies Caz sees are only underwater, where an organism that thrives in air would struggle to access. Once it gets dug up and brought to air with plenty of organic matter to consume and grow with, its population explodes. When a limiting factor is removed, there’s nothing holding the population back any more until they hit a new limit. The Shape’s old limiting factor was removed, and it would only stop reproducing by running out of space to grow on the rig, running out of organic matter to use, or being killed (like, say, in a giant fiery explosion).
(I could go on and on about how the Shape potentially works, please feel free to ask me about it)
Now, I’ll get to my main theory:
I think Caz was dead the whole time.
Now, I don’t mean that in a “the whole game is in his head, none of it was real” way; I mean it in a “this man got Ethan Winters’ed” way.
So, I started to do a little research into how tall oil rigs are to know how far Caz would have fallen off the helipad. I quickly learned there are many types of oil rigs and not every oil rig of the same type is the same size. I’m studying marine biology, not petroleum engineering like my brother, so I got tired of trying to guesstimate how tall the Bierra D’s helipad would be and attacked the problem with some simple math.
Watching a video, I saw he fell for between 4-5 seconds; the acceleration due to gravity is 9.8m/s^2. Plugging that in a calculator while not accounting for air resistance to solve for distance gets me ~80-120m, depending on if I used the 4 or 5 second count, so I’ll guess around 100m. I’ve found many conflicting sources on what the tallest heights you can safely fall into water are, but I can safely tell you that 100m is much higher than any of them.
Now, maybe the devs weren’t going with the mathematical exact timing it would take for a guy to fall off an oil rig, and didn’t mean for it to be implied that he fell from THAT high. Still, we can agree he fell from very high up, high enough to have likely ended in injury. Maybe he’d just fall on and break a leg? Maybe an arm or some ribs?
After falling off the rig, the last frame before Caz blacks out shows the water at the top of the screen, meaning he hits the water head-first. He may be wearing a hard hat (that somehow stays on his head through the whole ordeal since he clips his flashlight to it), but he still should have cracked his skull open or broken his neck.
When they pull him out of the water, he’s cold and not breathing, which wouldn’t be unusual for a drowning victim in the North Sea in the dead of winter, but it would usually be a death sentence. They never explain how they dragged Caz out of the water, but it would presumably have taken a long time to get him out, and time is key when dealing with someone who isn’t breathing. The fact that he’s able to cough up water and start breathing on his own is a miracle, since it doesn’t sound like Brodie or Douglas do CPR when they bring him inside.
So, fall damage, head and/or spine injury, drowning, and hypothermia. By several different factors, Caz should be a very, very dead man. So why isn’t he?
My theory is that, somehow, somewhy, the infection from The Shape healed and brought him back to life. We know for a fact it has amazing generative properties, basically able to double, triple, quadruple the amount of tissue and organic matter in the crew’s bodies with no regard for conservation of mass, so what’s just a little regeneration of damaged tissues in a single body? Once Caz’s body gets someplace with better conditions suited to life (inside where it’s warm and there’s air), it just jumpstarts his body functions. The Shape’s presumably been dormant in the seafloor for a long time, so it could be able to go dormant and kinda “come back to life” as conditions change, similar to a tardigrade, and potentially pass this ability onto its hosts.
And Caz mentions how his head hurts a lot, especially when he gets close to the Shape.
Now, this might seem like baseless conjecture, and y’all might say “That’s a good headcanon, but there’s no evidence that The Shape could bring people back to life!” to which I would say “Oh, but there might be!"
After the helicopter on the starboard side, we get a call from Bruce, who is actively drowning. Through his gasps, he tells us that O’Connor hurt his leg and couldn’t swim, presumably drowning. And guess who we see still kicking as we’re passing through the pontoon? My thought is that O’Connor couldn’t swim, drowned, and drifted to the bottom, landing on a part of the shape. Once Caz and Brodie start working in the legs and they drain, it exposes him to air and allows the shape to start growing again, assimilating him and bringing him back to life.
Obviously, he’s not doing as well as Caz is. My thought was that, if Caz died as he was infected, the infection would’ve had to put a lot of its energy into bringing him back, not leaving much for itself to begin assimilating him into the Shape. Since O’Connor was in direct contact with the Shape, it could hook him up to its network to help supplement that loss. Caz, meanwhile, stays as far away from the stuff as he can and doesn’t even get anything to eat all day; guy's running on empty. He has small things where the Shape affects him, like the colors at the edge of his vision, but most of his hallucinations only happen after the Shape attacks him through O’Connor. Before, I’m pretty sure the largest incident (other than when he’s blacked out) is when we can barely hear Suze’s voice over the speakers when moving through the pontoon. It’s really only after getting attacked that he starts to hear her when he’s awake, near the Shape, or over phone calls. He only hears her clearly over the speakers in administration after he runs into the shape many times when he gets swept away in the flooding.
With my main evidence out of the way, I’ll also mention that Caz sees the “light at the end of the tunnel” from the end of the game in the oil flashes when he blacks out.
But hey, that’s just a theory.
A GAME TH- I have received a cease and desist.
Man, this became a long read. Thanks for getting this far, and I hope you enjoyed!
#still wakes the deep#swtd#cameron mcleary#caz mcleary#swtd spoilers#using my half a marine biology degree to do something (while avoiding doing work that'll get me my degree)#I even busted out high school physics for this#and my scuba classes
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I Hate You, I Love You.
-kang yeosang<3
○ pairing- yeosang x reader ○ genre- academic rivals to lovers! early relationship scenario, basically a snippet into the times when two rivals get into a romantic relationship after finally confessing their undying love to eo (ahem, they still hate eo too, though) ○ warnings- none? slight 18+ scenes but they don't actually do IT haha ○ synopsis- sooo this one is the epilogue for my rivals to lovers yeo fic (down bad, but at what cost?) . basically this one is a study session turned into a pillow fight turned into an intense makeout session ;) i've tried my best to write this one even better than the actual long fic so i really hope y'all enjoy reading this. likes, reblogs, comments and follows are always immensely appreciated <3
"Huh, to be honest, your room isn't half bad. Really." You admit, peering at every little thing your eyes land upon, in this giant, spacious room.
"If that was meant to be a compliment, thanks." Yeosang snorted, right behind you, watching you take everything in.
This was your very first time visiting your boyfriend's slash academic rival's room. Infact, it was your first time coming to his house itself. Saying that you were nervous was an understatement, but somehow you seemed to be relaxing in yeosang's presence by now.
The fact that no one except the both of you were present in his house right now, also relaxed you quite a lot. Yeosang's parents had gone shopping and his elder sister was hanging out with her friends. Yeosang, being the smartass he is, grabbed this perfect oppurtunity and ideal day to invite you over, to get your assignments done.
Yeah. to get those damn assignments done. nothing else, probably, right...? although you wished you were lying, as you thought about how amazing it would be, to make out with yeosang on his bed.....
It had been roughly a month since the both of you started dating now, and it seemed like neither of you wanted to rush things. But if either you or yeosang made the first move, the latter would passionately reciprocate it.
"I mean it, your room is much more spacious than i imagined it to be. And also, so clean.... bet it isn't normally this clean." You said, chuckling, as your hand gently patted and felt the soft matress bed sheets.
"Well, not gonna lie, i did clean it up cuz you were gonna come over, You should be grateful." He joked, carefully picking up your bag and placed it on one of the extra chairs around his study table.
"Should i touch your feet or something? Geez, thanks for cleaning your room, i guess." You let out, suddenly stopping in your tracks to stare at the mini posters stuck at the wall.
Yeosang noticed you staring at those posters at the wall and stood right besides you. Good thing it wasn't something embarassing- or else he would've torn all those posters than bear all the teasing from you.
"Seriously, yeo? Math symbols, geometry shapes, equations and formulas..... you know what, i am not even surprised, you math freak." You grinned, turning to look him directly in the eye.
"So what? I am working to be the best mathematician of the next century, Gotta make sure to look like one." He replied, sounding quite proud.
"Might as well wear printed t-shirts with mathematical formulas all over it, My anti-math ass could never. I might throw up if i stare at those posters again." You said, giving those posters one last glance.
"You and your dramatic ass, y/n.....well, take a seat, if you're done exploring, and lets get these assignments done." Yeosang murmured, taking hold of his own bag, as he bought it towards his huge study table.
You sat at the chair farthest to the window, where sunrays seemed to be shining beautifully at the ends of the study table. Yeosang sat right besides you, eliminating the third chair and reduced any distance present between the both of you.
You ignored your heart beating loudly in your chest, quietly placed your books and pens on the table, and peered at yeosang doing the same.
"Well then, lets get started? As we promised each other, you're gonna help me if i have any difficulty in maths and I'm gonna do the same for you in science. Hope that offer still stands." You said, not quite maintaining eye contact with him, choosing to stare at those books in front of you instead.
"Hmm, alright. Lets get this done as quickly as possible." Yeosang said, already getting started with his work.
Around 40 minutes passed, the both of you working in peaceful silence, and even if you asked each other about a certain question or concept, the atmosphere between the both of you was still, peaceful. calm. not chaotic- and that's where is started to feel slightly...wrong? This had to be the longest time you've both spent in each other's presence without teasing the hell out of each other or bickering.
You couldn't help but steal quick glances towards yeosang's direction, admiring his concentrated self, how unbelievably hot he looked even when he was literally just, studying. When he furrowed his eyebrows cuz he probably didn't understand something, or when he mindlessly spun his pen as he read content, you wondered how you even managed to have a boyfriend as attractive as him.
You stretched your arms quickly, leaning back toward the chair, stifling a yawn. You were quite tired now, but you still had one topic left. You glanced at yeosang, and he looked quite tired himself, too.
And besides, things felt too boring, between the both of you, right now. You wanted to spice things up a bit, get him to kiss you or something.... but how?
"I'm taking a quick break." You announced, getting up from your chair, heading towards the giant bed, sitting comfortably at the edge.
Yeosang spun his chair to face you, and just blankly stared at you as you scrolled through something on your phone.
"What, tired already?" He asked, having the audacity to ask you this while looking much more exhausted than you.
"You look like you're about to pass out, right now. Take a break along with me." This wasn't a request, it was an order. You wanted both of you to feel fresh and relaxed before you started working on the final topic to finish your assignments.
Yeosang didn't argue further, simply closed his books and joined you, on his bed. He mirrored your position, sitting quite distant from you, but you could still feel his feet brushing yours..
You sat there, feeling extra comfortable because of the giant, soft pillows behind you. Yeosang suddenly grabbed one of those pillows behind you and you glanced at him, quirking an eyebrow and met his gaze, which looked quite mischievous and playful...typical yeosang.
"Ever been in a pillow fight?" Yeosang asked, pulling the pillow close to his chest.
"Umm....no? I might have once, with Jia, though." You replied, registering the fact that he probably asked you out on a pillow fight. you, his girlfriend, into a pillow fight.
at such moments, you realised how yeosang was truly, yeosang. no one could ever be like him..
"Then accept this challenge. Whoever wins gets their favourite snack as a reward." Yeosang snickered, coming closer to you.
"Oh, ITS ON. Y-" You almost screamed, and you didn't even get to finish your sentence as Yeosang approached you and hit his pillow skillfully at your arm. You groaned, gaining your consciousness quickly and attacked him with another pillow, aimed right at his head.
Here you were, the both of you fighting each other in an impromptu pillow fight, laughing, giggling and screaming like little kids. Just when you thought you couldn't fall deeper for yeosang than you already were, you were proved wrong when you met his soft and playful gaze, him smiling at you, the reason for his laughter being you. You wished this moment could last forever..
Your bodies brushed again each other's quite often, but the both of you tried to ignore that fact, too caught up in adrenaline and playfully fighting each other.
With a well-aimed swing, you managed to knock the pillow out of Yeosang's hands, grinning proudly. "Gotcha!"
Before you even knew it, yeosang lunged forward and tackled you gently onto the bed. You both landed in a heap of tangled limbs and pillows, your breath hitching as you realised that you were pinned beneath him onto the bed...
For a moment, everything stilled. The air, filled with laughter and giggles and screams just a minute ago, was now intense, and all that could be heard was your breaths.
You gazed into each other's eyes, your faces mere inches apart, You could feel yeosang's warm breath forming goosebumps on your skin. Every single cell in your body seemed to be aware of your current position, you could feel yeosang's strong arms wrapped against your sides, as if you had no choice to run away,,,
Yeosang's eyes softened, his playful smirk replaced by something more tender. "Y/N...." He trailed off, not bothering to complete his sentence. Just hearing your name from his lips, him being so damn close to you, you could've sworn your heart was going to beat right out of your chest.
Your hand, which had been gripping a pillow, slowly lifted up to touch his shoulders, to touch those strong biceps... that got you thinking just how buff your boyfriend was.
He leaned down, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away, his eyes never leaving yours. But of course, you didn't. Why would you? You were waiting since ages for this to happen..
You lifted your head slightly, closing the distance between you. Your lips met in a kiss that was both familiar and electrifying, a perfect blend of softness and urgency.
Until, it was no longer soft, no longer sweet- just mere urgency, passion and roughness arising, as yeosang's palms reached forward to cup your face and your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you.
You pulled apart just for a second, you asking him hurridely if the door was locked (as much as you loved kissing yeosang, you were not prepared for the utter embarrasment if his parents walked in.) and he just hummed in reply, wasting no time and bought your lips to his again.
The makeout session seemed to be unending, and you weren't complaining in he slightest. The next second you broke the kiss to catch some freaking air, you could feel yeosang's gaze strongly fixated on you, and you couldn't quite comprehend what he was feeling.
"God, you're so hot." He said, in such a low voice, you would have almos missed it if you weren't so damn close to him.
"What?" You asked, blushing, although you had clearly heard him. You took in the sight of his cheeks heating up so furiously that your shyness was now replaced with a proud smirk.
"Say it again. I didn't quite hear you." You said, grinning.
"H-hell no. You didn't hear anything." He said, now tearing his gaze off you, just to be met by your smirk yet again as you grabbed his chin softly to make direct eye contact.
"What, THE kang yeosang getting all giddy and shy because of me? Yeo, if you don't say that again, i WILL tease you about it for the rest of your life-"
"I hate you. Y-you're so hot." He said, and before you could say anything, he quickly sealed his lips with yours, once again. You hummed in pleasure as his thumbs lightly massaged your cheeks, and you felt so damn good in this moment, you wouldn't dare to stop.
That was, unless you had to, to catch your breaths once again.
"Have you kissed someone before, um, me?" You asked, looking quite shy now. He blinked, not believing that this was the kind of question you'd ask him in the middle of a makeout session.
"I did. What about you?" He asked, shrugging, his eyes curious for your answer to the same.
Something familiar settled into your stomach. Bitterness. Jealousy. That would explain how yeosang kissed you so damn well. He was experienced, someone had already felt those wicked, soft, irrestible lips before. And of course, they did. Have you looked at the guy? It would be impossible to believe that he hadn't dated before.
"Y/N?" He asked softly, after noticing that you didn't reply quickly.
"Uhh...well, you're my first kiss." You said, not adding anything further. Yeosang seemed way too shocked at that, smirking soon after.
"Are you being serious? You're telling me, your arch nemesis, your rival, the person you quite literally hate, ME, i'm your first kiss? Insane, if you ask m-" He didn't get to complete his sentence this time, as you bought your lips to his, again. and again. and again- until the both of you were completely satisfied- which you weren't, not just yet. You kissed in perfect sync, perfect harmony- you tilting your head slightly to give him more access, your tongues hungrily meeting each others, the unending bites and teasing making you even more desperate for each other.
You opened your eyes to be met with a pleasant, calm, flushed yeosang. His plush lips were now red and glossy and slightly bruised because of you biting them so many times (he did too, so that was only fair) and he just, looked so fucking pretty, so handsome, so ethereal. and you were just so damn lucky.
"You are my first kiss too, by the way." He confessed, now looking quite serious. You nearly choked on air.
"WHAT?? You lied to me before...?" You asked in disbelief.
"Yea, i just wanted to witness you being jealous. You are so cute, the way you were pouting when i said that, i wanted to bite you." He said, caressing your cheek softly.
"Shut up. I hate you." You let out, pouting yet again and yeosang looked at you with such endearment and adoration, one would have never thought that you used to be at each others throats.
"Nah, you love me." He chuckled, intertwining his fingers with yours. You smiled softly.
"That, maybe i do."
#ateez#ateez imagines#ateez x reader#ateez reactions#ateez fanfic#ateez ff#ateez fic#ateez fluff#ateez recs#ateez x y/n#ateez angst#yeosang imagines#yeosang ateez#yeosang x reader#kang yeosang#yeosang#yeosang fic#yeosang fluff#yeosang angst#ateez kpop#kpop imagines#academic rivals#kpop fic#yeosang fanfic#yeosang x y/n#yeosang x you
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Okay, so I want some angst, so could you do something with Bruce and batbro where reader is the newest member of the batfamily and also a vigilante. His backstory is really sad and never had a parental figure. So when he does something stupid on a mission with no regard of his own health, Bruce scolds and lectures him about it, so reader snaps and says something like “I don’t know why you care so much!” And Bruce reply’s back with something like “because I am your father.” But the reader isn’t having it, overwhelmed with his feelings, he yells something like “you are NOT my father and I’m sure as hell not your son!” And runs away After that. Honestly I’m not sure how to end this so maybe you could think of something 😅😭
Oh anon, it's going to end with fluff. You are going to get angst, but the end will be fluffy. I can't handle pure angst.
Summary: (Y/N) has no regards to his own health and Bruce reprimands him. (Y/N) lets his feelings be known.
Warnings: Angst and fluff essentially, minor cursing, (Y/N) is confused, mentions of injuries.
(Y/N) struggled badly with fitting in. Getting adopted by Bruce Wayne wasn't in his life plans. (Y/N) was fine on the streets. He educated himself in the library and he didn't need to go to school. Well, prison according to (Y/N)'s words. He didn't see a point in sitting in a classroom for hours on end.
And what was he going to learn there? He knows the basics of mathematics and he knows how to read and how to write. What more do you need in life? Equations?
Not in (Y/N)'s eyes.
It happened by pure accident. He was looking for his friend, hearing that he might have been in danger. Local gang was working through their neighborhood and he didn't like it.
He made sure to stay out of their way and he has advised his friends to do the same. However, people are not known to listen to directions and advices are they? The friend went missing and (Y/N) had to find him.
He didn't have many friends on the streets. It wasn't a bad thing, but you need to have some acquaintances. (Y/N) tried to be nice to everyone he came across, of course, he can't make everyone like him, but he tries.
He doesn't want any trouble. He just wants to get on his life easily.
During that fateful night, Batman and (Y/N) met one another for the first time. (Y/N) was shocked to find him here, but has guessed that he was just investigating. Bruce observed the boy for a moment before starting his interrogation.
He saw (Y/N)'s fear. His eyes widened, hands trembling at the sides. Not to mention the fact that (Y/N) was high on adrenaline. Bruce saw that he wasn't an enemy, just a scared kid. Bruce relaxed and asked (Y/N) some questions.
(Y/N) was stuttering as he answered Batman's questions. It was scary to see the Dark Knight in such proximity. (Y/N) knew that one wrong more will cause him to be maimed.
Of course, Batman wouldn't harm kids, but he is not really known to be patient for information so there was this inate fear that Batman might beat him up. (Y/N) doesn't have any type of medical insurance and...
But Batman was nice to him ever so gently asking him questions about the local gang that's moving in the neighborhood. He offered (Y/N) a position on an informant, but (Y/N) had to decline. Snitches get stiches and (Y/N) didn't want to die.
Bruce nodded at that statement. He understood. Nobody wants to be put in that type of situation. The stress, pressure... Bruce went home that night and he couldn't stop thinking about (Y/N). There was something about the kid that Bruce couldn't stop thinking about.
Maybe he sensed a lack of parental, more so a fatherly figure. Afterall, Bruce has a problem with adopting children and more so, taking strays in.
One night, he was taken to CPS and from there to an orphanage. He was shocked at how fast it has happened. From the cold streets to at least warm bed.
The kids there are not really something that he... Liked per say. Growing up on the streets, he didn't trust anyone, except one person, from whom he was now far away from. Unfortunately, he had no way of getting out, even after observing the pattern of how things to work around here.
Their patrols were good and chances of him escaping are slim. No, not slim, they are non existent. So he gave up after a while. He sat on his bed, reading a book from the library. Somehow (Y/N) ended up in a Wayne Orphanage and it had a library. Bruce Wayne is posh as hell.
(Y/N) looked from his book when he heard a knock on his door. It was Lisa who entered. She is a nice lady and (Y/N) liked her a lot. She understood him and she was never pushy with him.
" Hey (Y/N). There is a man here who wants to talk to you. " She said, all smiles. (Y/N) raised his brow in curiosity. He closed the book and put it aside, standing from the bed.
" What for? " (Y/N) asked as he followed Lisa through the halls. He wondered what it was. If it was GCPD, he won't talk. Again, he isn't a snitch.
" Oh don't worry, it's nothing really serious. Well- You know, you will see. " Lisa said, all smiles still.
" Oh no. " (Y/N) said quietly as they stopped at the director's office. She knocked before entering, letting (Y/N) go to the chair first then closed the door before sitting down herself.
(Y/N) turned his head and it was Bruce Wayne himself. What the hell?
" (Y/N), I have some good news for you. " The director started and (Y/N) felt nervous beyond belief now. And it had to involve Bruce Wayne somehow? Oh dear God.
" Bruce Wayne wants to adopt you. " The director said, clapping his hands. (Y/N)'s mouth dropped a little bit.
" What? " (Y/N) asked quietly, wondering what was happening. His mind couldn't even wrap itself around the concept of adoption.
" I know, it seems like a lot, but you are going to be adopted. " Director smiled and (Y/N) tried to say something, but couldn't.
" Now, you can go back to your room to pack up. " Director said and (Y/N) stood up, feeling like he could keel over at any point. Lisa went with him, seeing that he is very shocked. She saw that he didn't want to talk, but she was worried about him passing out on the way.
" Are you happy? " Lisa asked as they walked into (Y/N)'s room.
" I mean... " (Y/N) started talking as he took a sports bag. " I'm shocked. " (Y/N) whispered, packing his clothes. He took his personal stuff and put them in the bag.
" I know. But you have a chance to have a great life. " Lisa said, trying to help him out. (Y/N) sighed quietly as he packed up. He didn't have a lot either.
" I know. But still. " (Y/N) said, putting the bag on his shoulder. He looked back once more to see if he missed anything.
" Hey, if you ever need to talk, you can always talk to me. " Lisa said, giving him a quick hug before stepping aside to walk (Y/N) back to the office.
(Y/N) has never felt so nervous in his life. He only had his mother, but when she passed away, he ended up on the streets. Having a father figure now is something new to him. He didn't really don't know how to feel.
" Hey, don't worry. " Lisa said, putting a hand on his shoulder to bring him back from his head. (Y/N) nodded, but Lisa still knows that he never had a father figure. And fathers and mothers are very different parent types.
" He is aware of what you have been through. " Lisa tried to console him, but he didn't find any comfort in her words. He didn't like it at all.
It has been a year since he started living with Bruce Wayne and (Y/N) felt like he was out of place. The other kids are okay and they actually like him, but (Y/N) feels like he doesn't belong here. He is only used to mother like figures and connecting to Bruce in general is hard. To (Y/N) he looks like he is allergic to emotions.
Not to mention the fact that he is Batman and the others are Robins. He fainted when he found out and he was offered training to become a vigilante himself. (Y/N) thought about it for a long time.
It's a big commitment to become a vigilante. You need to keep your head calm and you yourself need to have the nerves to be patient. (Y/N) didn't think he could do it because there was so much anger inside of him.
It wasn't loud anger, no. It was quiet anger. It's a more dangerous type of anger and it's the one that eats you from the inside out. Not to mention, you need to be talkative, you need to talk through the comms and what not.
But (Y/N) didn't really enjoy it. He is an introverted person and he didn't really like to talk or go out somewhere and fight crime. But in the end, he thought about making a difference.
Will he make it though?
(Y/N) remembered every time he was out on the street. He stayed out of every ones way. Even though he had a great friend on the streets, he still never opened up to him fully. He has never bared his soul open for anyone to see.
He probably never will bare it to anyone. And one thing that made him think against being a vigilante was the fact that he can't really follow direction and orders.
But then again, maybe he is could make a difference. Batman can't eradicate crime, but he can give the city a boost and he has already given the criminals the fear. (Y/N) knew the fear very well. There was often a thought on his mind, whether or not Batman was watching.
But in the end, he decided to join. Bruce trained him and it felt weird to have some sort of guidance. And to have a support from a male figure is something... Nice and yet confusing beyond belief.
But he still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the fact that he had a father figure. And he felt some of the quiet anger disappear. It felt nice.
All of (Y/N)'s feelings boiled over when patrol went wrong. He disobeyed Bruce's direct orders. (Y/N) knew that he was in so much trouble, but the night has been so tiring and so exhausting. He got hurt, his body bruised and everything in him ached. He just wanted to take a cold shower and go to bed.
But that won't happen ever so easily.
(Y/N) walked off, not in the mood to listen to Bruce's lecture. It was just the two of them, since the others were busy with their own things. He didn't want to prolong this shit.
" (Y/N)! Stop right there! " Bruce yelled and Alfred turned his head. He knew that (Y/N) has put himself in danger by disobeying an order, but he couldn't stop his worry from showing on his face.
Oh no.
(Y/N) listened to Bruce, refusing to turn himself to face Bruce. He could feel anger rolling off of him in waves. He had to think of something that wouldn't result in him further angering Bruce.
" Turn around. " Bruce said, ever so calmly. (Y/N) knew that this is anything but calm. (Y/N) listened to the order, slowly turning.
Bruce's face was neutral, but (Y/N) saw anger in his eyes. Oh, he was in for a treat.
" You disobeyed a direct order! You could have died! " Bruce started and (Y/N) felt his fists clench. There was something building in his chest, something hot and heavy, settling near the heart.
" I had a plan! When I tell you to do something in the field, you listen to me! " Bruce kept on yelling and (Y/N) felt like he was going to keel over. He tried to unclench his fists, but he couldn't.
The anger had kept growing and growing.
" Why do you even care?! " (Y/N) yelled back, allowing the anger to take over. Bruce didn't even flinch at the yelling and he seemingly got louder.
" Because I'm your FATHER! " Bruce said, making sure to put importance on the word father. Something got triggered in (Y/N) and the thing that has settled near the heart exploded.
" YOU AREN'T MY FATHER AND I'M NOT YOUR SON! " (Y/N) yelled back with so much ferocity and so much anger that Bruce had to rear back a little bit.
The words stung a little bit and Bruce saw tears falling down (Y/N)'s face. (Y/N) took a deep breath before walking off up the surface and out of the cave. Bruce stood still and Alfred looked at one another.
" Well, I think he finally let it out. " Alfred said, trying to light up the mood, but it didn't work.
" Should I let him be for now? " Bruce wondered rubbing his face.
" Yes. He is at the moment angry and he needs to let it out. " Alfred said, rubbing the back of his neck.
While the two are having a discussion on what to do and how to approach (Y/N), the said boy ran to his room breaking down in the hall, just before entering. He fell down on his knees, sobbing quietly. He wiped his face before entering his dark room.
He quickly removed his suit before stepping into the shower. He showered with ice cold water to ease the pain of some bruises. He tried to calm down, but nothing worked. He changed into his pajamas and just crawled into bed.
He had no interest in staying awake anymore. But he couldn't go to sleep. Did he have to yell like that? Probably not. But those feelings are something that have been bubbling for a little over a year and if he kept them in for a while longer, it would eat him up completely.
But Bruce was very nice to him for the time (Y/N) has been here. (Y/N) closed his eyes as he tried to sleep, but he couldn't. His mom once said to never go to bed angry, but he was to stubborn too look for Bruce.
But it seems that fate would have it that Bruce seeks (Y/N) out first. Bruce entered the room quietly and (Y/N) was just still, pretending to be asleep. Bruce knows this trick very well, but he played along for (Y/N)'s sake.
Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, near his back. (Y/N) felt the bed dip and he remained still as possible.
" I know you think I don't care, but I do. You are my son no matter what and seeing you hurt on patrol made me feel scared. I shouldn't have yelled at you, but I was scared and angry at myself. " Bruce said and (Y/N) moved closer to Bruce, trying to find some comfort in his arms.
Bruce didn't say anything else as he embraced his son, who sobbed quietly in his embrace. Bruce knew that (Y/N) has never had a father figure in his life, but he didn't realize it was that bad.
Bruce would try to be better for (Y/N), but for now, the night is too fragile for something bigger. It was just enough for tonight.
#x male reader#dc x male reader#dc comics#bruce wayne x male reader#batman x male reader#fluff#some angst#fluff and angst
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don't wanna ruin the moment
790 words, buddie, pre-relationship/gen, 4×12 Treasure Hunt missing scene
Just Eddie, next to Buck on the freeway, windows down to let the night in. Just Eddie with a lot to smile about.
read it on ao3.
the lovely @queerweewoo and @userbuddie had tagged me for snippets in the past couple weeks and I'd had nothing to show, so this one's for y'all.
"Five hundred fifty-five thousand, five hundred fifty-five point five," Eddie says as he climbs into the jeep.
"Hm?" Buck backs out of the dark road they parked on, hand rested on the familiar spot behind the neck of the passenger seat. Eddie leans into it out of habit.
"The treasure. Five million divided by nine; it's five hundred fifty-five thousand, five hundred fifty-five point five."
Buck whistles lowly. "Well, it's not a million something-something, but it's better than nothing." He pulls the jeep into line behind Athena's car, waving at Hen and Chimney in his rearview.
"Mm. If we find it," Eddie sighs.
"We'll find it," Buck grins, confident, bordering cocky. "With the 118 on the job? Better watch out, Hollis Harcourt."
Eddie laughs. He rolls the window down, letting the cool night air rush into the car. Things have been heavy, lately - good, but heavy: getting Chris on board with Ana, Chris chartering an Uber and running off, but at least it was to Buck. This feels like home, wind against his cheeks and Buck next to him, sandwiched in the middle of the rest of the 118. Whatever else they find tonight, God, he's grateful to have this.
They drive in silence for a while, until Eddie starts fiddling with the bluetooth and Buck busts into laughter when he plays the Mission: Impossible theme. It's so stupid. Eddie's cheeks kind of ache from smiling.
"How'd you know that?" Buck asks, once he's calmed down.
"Know what?"
"That math thing."
"I know math," Eddie defends.
"Yeah, but five million divided by nine?"
"Mm. There's, like, a rule," Eddie muses. "Something like, if the number is divisible by 10, then dividing it by 9 is the first digit of that number a bunch of times, with one less place value."
Buck furrows his brows, like he’s trying to do it in his head.
"300 divided by 9 is 33.3. 400 divided by 4 is 44.4," Eddie shrugs. "I don't know, it was in Chris's math homework."
What Eddie doesn't bring up is that it was Ana who taught him that. That he'd kissed her on her couch, in between fourth grade math problems and bites of the dinner she'd made, and it had felt...nice, he guesses. Good. It's been a while since he's kissed anyone, and Shannon was only his second or third kiss, and Ana tasted so different but felt just the same. Cherry lips instead of strawberry, but still soft and warm. He still resisted the teenage urge to wipe his mouth on his hand afterwards.
But he doesn't mention it, because Buck would ask, and then his stupid lie about construction on Sunset would fall apart and Buck would know he's kissed someone and God, wouldn't that be weird? And anyway, that's not who he wants to be right now.
Not Eddie, maybe betraying Shannon's memory and maybe hurting his son and maybe not being the greatest boyfriend, after all this time. Just Eddie, next to Buck on the freeway, windows down to let the night in. Just Eddie with a lot to smile about.
"Almost there," Buck says finally, pulling Eddie out of his thoughts. "I think we beat the others by a bit. See, aren't you glad I drove?"
"I'm always glad when you drive," Eddie grins. "Saves me so much gas."
Buck reaches over the dash and flicks his temple. "Just for that, I'm taking half your cut."
"You wouldn't," Eddie gasps, mocking.
"Oh, yeah, freeloader," Buck teases. "And I'll use it to bribe Chris into teaching me your secret, mathematical ways."
"They're really not a secret. I could teach you, if you really wanted."
"Ah, but if my calculations are correct, your numbers are wrong," Buck says, swinging the Jeep through a sharp left into Harcourt's quiet neighborhood. He taps his nose knowingly, looks at Eddie, and smirks. "Five and above, you gotta round up. It should be point six."
Eddie rolls his eyes. "Semantics."
"Details! They're important," Buck insists as they pull into the driveway. "Math teachers can't tell you everything, you know. You'll still need me around."
Buck doesn’t know about that night, but he knows about Ana. Of course he does.
"I'll always need you around," Eddie tells him, probably a little more honestly than warranted. But then Buck is smiling over the parking brake, and that makes it worth it. Eddie holds eye contact until Hen's headlights appear in the rearview, and then he hops out.
"I mean," he says, grinning over the hood. "Who else is gonna drive me to the treasure?"
Then Eddie's own laughter is drowning out Buck's groan, and he grabs his best friend’s hand and pulls him to Hollis Harcourt's gate.
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Inspired by this post by @traceyc-uk about the lack of beds in the Ravenclaw dorms.
There's simple (and odd) mathematics about HL dorms and beds under the cut.
_______________
So, Amit mentioned in his letter that he hadn't slept well recently because there weren't enough beds in his dorm. This matter requires an investigation! I will spare you details of how I managed to get into the Ravenclaw common room. We, Slytherins, have to be resourceful, right? So let's cut to the chase.
So far, I can see that the Ravenclaw boys' dormitory has only 3 (WTF?!) rooms: one labelled as '5th years' and two unlabelled rooms, each with four beds.
There are also two rooms labelled as '7th years'. For some reason, they are located between boys' and girls' dorms and are not separated by gender (boys have access to each of them).
The beds here look more comfortable than the bunk beds in the rest of the dorm, and there are only three of them in each room instead of four.
The first pic - a bed for 7th-years, the second one - for the rest.
Now, I need to check the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory. These metal dudes didn't let me in because I hadn't solved the problem of me being a boy yet.
Have I mentioned that Slytherins have to be resourceful? Apparently, now I look convincing because the guard doesn't mind me anymore. I only hope it's not permanent - it's very inconvenient to be THAT short.
The girls' dormitory is symmetrical to the boys' one (looking ahead, it is not so in the other houses' dorms) — one room for 5th-years and two unlabelled ones, with four beds each.
So, that's what we have for Ravenclaw dorms.
30 beds for all the Ravenclaws in Hogwarts. Apparently, the Ravenclaw dormitory doesn't just lack beds for 5th-year students; it also doesn't have enough dorms for the other year groups. I guess Ravenclaws were meant to sleep in the library after all.
Gryffindor has the same problem, but its dorms have even fewer beds (26 in total). They don't have special rooms for 7th-years, and only those for 5th-years are labelled.
The situation is much better in the Hufflepuffs' dorms, which seem to have the simplest logic — every year group has a labelled room, and all the rooms are separated by gender. Each room has either 3 or 4 beds. There are no special rooms for 7th-years.
Slytherin's dormitory is similar to Hufflepuff's in that regard, with one exception — 7th-years' dorms are just like in the Ravenclaw tower — they are posher than others and aren't separated by gender.
So, in total, Slytherin has 50 beds, Hufflepuff - 47, Ravenclaw - 30, and Gryffindor - 26.
The logic behind it? Well, it looks like the developers were limited by the castle's outer layout, so the Ravenclaw and Cryffindor dorms, located in towers, just didn't have enough space. However, I still can't understand why Ravenclaw and Slytherin 7th-years are so special. Anyway, I can't stop being amazed at the colossal job the developers did on the locations, they all look fantastic.
#amit thakkar#garreth weasley#leander prewett#ominis gaunt#sebastian sallow#poppy sweeting#hogwarts legacy#ravenclaw#hufflepuff#slytherin#gryffindor#chris mongrel#hogwarts legacy mc
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Hope you work day is going alright!💞
A drop-in visit from PhD!Candidate Curtis on his way back to his apartment from the university. He’s gotta run some data analysis for his thesis, but has no idea where to start. Someone said you could help him find a way?
Sincerest thanks for your patience, Essie! My muse did not want to work on this for the longest time!
A/N: Reader is gender neutral. No physical descriptors used.
Warnings: college/university stress. You don't know pain until you see university students begging the printer to work faster during finals week.
Today seemed to be regular day at the reference desk. You were answering emails from the mathematics faculty and students, assuring them about library holdings of their requested materials. Sometimes directing them to the LaTeX to TeX converter you'd had to make, silently cursing MathSciNet and zbMath for not converting yet. Thankfully, the library students you were monitoring at the reference desk were able to handle most of the questions that got directed at them.
At least until a tall, very handsome man with a buzzcut, wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket walks in. You keep an eye on him as he approaches the desk because he doesn't look happy and you're not about to let anyone yell at the students. Thankfully he seems polite enough, neither of the students look scared, but they do direct him to you.
Making eye contact, you motion him over and he's quick to obey.
"How can I help?"
"I'm, I'm Curtis and...my, my data is...I think it got corrupted," he removes his sunglasses and he looks completely devastated. "I can't lose this data. It's, it's my thesis."
You nod in what you hope is a reassuring manner, "do you have a copy of the data in the university servers?"
He holds out a flash drive and you grab the laptop that's never allowed to connect to the network and get it ready. When it is you hold your hand out and he gives you the drive. Plugging it in you take a few minutes to figure out what you're looking at. Some of the terminology is familiar, he's clearly not a mathematics PhD, based on the labels you're able to discern.
"Oh, I see the problem," you tell Curtis, who's looks keep distracting you from your work. "You were, understandably, trying to use data you'd picked up using our Statistica license on your home computer that has the public domain Dataplot software."
"And I'm guessing the two are not interchangeable," Curtis sighs in defeat.
"Unfortunately the metadata schemas they use for the data sets don't work well together," you nod. "The data isn't corrupted, it's just very, very messy and it would take you a lot of late nights to clean it all up again, even if you knew R."
He scratches the back of his neck, "so my data is useless?"
"You have backups, right? You didn't just keep all your data on this flash drive, right?"
"I have backups," he nods. "But it's still months of work down the drain." He raises his hands to his face, looking like he wants to cry. It's a look you're painfully familiar with given your line of work.
You unplug the drive and hand it to him, "hey, look at me." He lowers his hands a little and the pain in his beautiful blue eyes breaks your heart. "You're going to be okay. Yes, it's a lot of time you'll never get back, but it's not the end. You're going to be able to kick this data's ass and get it in line because you know what you're doing with it now. Your thesis hit a setback, it happens a lot more than people would like to admit. You're not alone and you will be able to get this done."
He seems to take your words to heart, taking a few breaths and standing up straight.
"And make sure to get yourself a treat," you add. "You're hurting and you need to take care of yourself."
He almost smiles as he nods and walks out.
🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣🔣
It's been a few months and you'd almost forgotten about the poor PhD student. You probably would have had his physique not stood out so much. The same physique you see walking towards the reference desk, but with a giant smile. You smile in return, he must've gotten his data sorted out.
He walks up to you, "I don't know if you remember me--"
"Statistical software mess, right?"
He lowers his head as his cheeks develop a pink tint, "yeah."
"I'm guessing it all worked out?"
"I'm officially Dr. Everett, now."
Your smile grows, "congratulations, Doctor!"
"Thanks, um," he rubs the back of his neck. "If, if it's not too forward, could I take you out to dinner? As a thank you?" Your eyes go wide. "It wasn't just the data, software stuff that you helped me with. I was genuinely considering just dropping out, giving up. But then you looked me in the eyes and told me I could do it and...and I want to thank you for that."
Smiling, you tell him, "I get off at 6."
Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly
#zombie asks#curtis everett#college au#college student!curtis everett#librarian!reader#curtis everett x librarian!reader#curtis everett x reader#curtis everett imagine
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I think this is a week or two late, but there was some fantastic discussion happening on TTRPG Tumblr earlier this month about incentive systems in rpgs - @thydungeongal, @imsobadatnicknames2, and @cavegirlpoems all have good posts that you should read. I’m here though to talk about incentive systems in games more generally. I’m seeing a lot of confusion in the notes of those posts about why they’re used in the first place (and also because I’m trying to articulate my own thoughts about them! I’m still a baby designer trying to figure out how all this works).
So real quick, let’s all get on the same page. Games are a voluntary limitation of agency, right? While playing the game, participants agree that certain arbitrary actions are off limits, while other actions are desirable. Which actions are off limits and which are desirable then create a certain experience. Go Fish and Texas Hold ‘em play fundamentally differently, and create a different emotional experience in their players, despite literally using the same components. The only difference is which actions are off limits, and which are desirable. We then play those games because the emotional space that play creates is... well fun. The whole point of rules in games is to put players in a specific emotional space.
This same idea can then be applied to more complex or thematic games. For example classic board game Clue loosely simulates the experience of being an old school mystery novel detective. It drip feeds you clues, and because the first player to correctly guess whodunit wins, players are encouraged to make their guess before they’ve mathematically “proven” the solution. Winning at Clue, then, requires some deductive reasoning skills, and when everything’s working it makes you feel like the hero in an Agatha Christie novel. That feeling is the goal of Clue’s design.
Okay, sweet, so we all agree that systems when voluntarily engaged with can create certain emotional states in the player - and those systems can be deliberately designed to invoke specific fantasies (this is what folks mean when they say “game design is real” btw!). Now I want to take a look at incentive systems specifically. So far the games I’ve used as examples all have the same, very simple incentive system: do a specific Thing and you win. Even with such a simple system, you can get a lot of mileage. Again, to win at Clue you have to name the murderer before anyone else. That “before anyone else” bit is key here. It encourages the player to be risky - to try and deduce what the other players know. That way they can make a call before anyone else has the chance to gather enough clues to solve the puzzle through process of elimination. That single incentive system contains most of the game’s fantasy. Change how you win a bit, and the game no longer fulfills its fantasy. If multiple players could win, you would no longer have incentive to make a call before you had literally all the information and therefore no deduction would be necessary.
Now obviously “winning” doesn’t have to be the only incentive, especially as your game gets more complex. Let's take a step out of the tabletop realm for a sec (there are other board games I could use here, but all that’s coming to mind are fucking Nerd Games™ and I want to keep my examples accessible) and take a look at the most recent Legend of Zelda games. Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom have incentive systems a lot closer to your typical TTRPG than something like Clue does. Sure, there’s the main quest to win the game (kill Matthew Mercer), but that’s really difficult to do at the start. And also like... not really the fun part of those games. The fun part is exploring Hyrule. And whether you realized it or not, the Zelda designers bribed you into engaging with the fun part of their game.
Imagine for a second if Breath of the Wild was missing its Shrines, Korok Seeds and sidequests. Literally the exact same game, same level geometry, same backstory, same enemy placement, just no rewards out in the wild. It would kind of suck yeah? You’d get tired of exploring right away, and just play it like an action game. Even if you added back in the parts of the game most of us consider fun (Shrines, Korok puzzles, actual content to find out in the wild) but withheld the rewards which make Link stronger (loot, Spirit Orbs, Korok seeds, etc), only completionists would bother doing any of that. The rewards are what lured us into the fun part of the game - without the rewards the game would have been less fun. Not only that, but it would have lost its core fantasy. It would have stopped being a game about exploring the wild, and turned into a game about killing an evil pig. All you had to change was the incentive system.
I think you're seeing how this applies to TTRPGs now. The things which make a player character stronger (that is to say, gives them more agency over the gameworld) are the things your players will gun for. A smart designer is going to make sure their incentive system rewards play which guides players to the game’s core fantasy. If your game is about being a badass monster hunter, XP for killing monsters is a fine reward structure. If the game is about making your and your friend’s OCs kiss, then you need a reward structure that incentivizes OC smooching.
Now some of you are protesting “but my friend’s OC and my OC smooch in D&D sometimes! What gives Lucy?” What you’re doing there is called playing pretend (a fantastic pastime, this is not meant as a knock on playing pretend. I do it all the time actually), but you shouldn’t give D&D or its designers credit for that. YOU AND YOUR FRIEND are responsible for that cool story - not WotC. Take credit for the cool shit you and your friends make, don’t give it to some corporation.
Idfk how to end this uhhhh.... Game design is really cool, and it can incentivize real neat stories when properly utilized. If you’re ignoring your game’s designed reward structure, then the cool stories that come out of it are a result of you and your friends being good at telling stories (seriously go give your GM a big ol’ hug if you haven’t already), not the game. If you are the GM and regularly ignore your game’s incentive systems, there are probably other games which better reward the style of play you want. Love yourself more than you love D&D and life is good. Or whatever
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[5]
I got a little carried away there But there are some more things I want to talk about.
(Let's not all act surprised at once)
Like, this is the first time THIS version of Watanuki (post Memory Loss) is seeing his (probable?) parents’ faces. He can’t remember what they looked like or much about them, so THIS will be his first formative moment actually ever seeing them.
I also quite like the look of shock on Lava Lamp’s face. UNDERSTANDABLE. He’s been going through quite a lot of Events all at once, and now suddenly time is collapsing, his (probable) parents are out of their jam jar prison looking the same age as him, and also his brother/twin/clone/other self has just shown up unannounced as they all hang out in the void. I would be shocked too!
Meanwhile, some other minor details! Their mother(?) looks at Watanuki with so much instant affection that I have no doubt that these probably are their parents, even if Clamp haven’t said the words “These are their parents” just yet. There’s such a gentle relief and unfiltered joy in her gaze as she looks to Watanuki - they had hoped for him to continue to exist, and here she can finally see that the wish came true.
Also. Complete side note, but the more I try to describe who I'm talking about the more I realise there is a hilarious number of Syaorans and Sakuras on this page.
Like, how many Syaorans are there? Two? NOPE sorry there are three Syaorans here, and maybe two Sakuras - but one of the Sakuras is actually the combination of two different Sakuras at once. And depending on Time shenanigans, the number of Sakuras is actually anywhere between 1 and 4 - but technically 2 for now!
But speaking of Syaoran mathematics let’s also look at the right-most Syaoran’s expression there. Would you say it’s mostly neutral? A little… emotionless?
An interesting detail wouldn’t you say?
I’ve lightly suggested it in passing before but now I’m mostly convinced that, actually, yes, Clamp probably would write a timeline where your clone is also your dad.
And there IS space in the timeline for it. Right after Nihon - Syaoran vanishes for an indeterminate amount of time. Enough time to make this all make sense? PERHAPS.
And if that was true then my other leading guess would be that the Super Sakura would be their mother…? Eventually? Which would mean that she’s in this picture twice here.
#WHICH LIKE#The Sakura mathematics on that are Incredible all on its own#INCLUDING THE FACT THAT IT WASN’T HER ORIGINAL NAME#Please let this be the answer it’s so funny to me#Not liveblogging the reservoir chronicle#xxxholic#xxxholic 92#Watanuki#Lava Lamp Guy#Sakura#Super Sakura#Mysterious Lava Lamp Family Figures#Jam Jar of Dreams#Like you make a friend one day#And then time gets reset and you get trapped in a bubble#And your clone falls in love with HIS clone#His second clone I mean#And then YOUR clone comes back in time and fuses with you#To become your friend’s mother all along#So like YOU aren’t his mother#But some part of you will be in like twenty years#Which is wild#But also maybe that future fusion of you is still in love with that clone of your friend#And so you marry the clone to give birth to your friend#And then hop in a jam jar to save the future
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With which hsr characters would you ship your mutuals with?
Hmmmmm, limiting this to just hsr characters makes it a bit difficult for me because I actually don't know all of the hsr characters as well as I do with the Genshin cast but I shall try :> Welcome to Harmony's matchmaking service I guess?
@teabutmakeitazure Ratio. I know who the love of your life is Zuri, but, the rivals to lovers potential of this pairing is astronomical in my brain. Not only can they bond over Mathematics but if things go south, they can establish dominance by seeing who can twirl a pen the best and for the longest :D
@navxry Navina, idk how you'll feel about this one but if I had one chance, I'd love to push you in the middle of Kafka and Himeko. Their ‘chemistry’ has always intrigued me and I just want to see them explode over the same person :>
@yandere-romanticaa Blade? Jing Yuan? Oh, who am I kidding, BOTH. I want to see Blade yearn and claw at the walls of the Luofu because Jing Yuan has what he wants. I want to see him to go through all of the five stages of grief and multiple existential crises until he finally decides to take action :3
@mochinon-yah I said this before once but Argenti! The duo is extremely comedic in my head for some reason. While Argenti goes about his tangents and monologues, Reli silently judges his whole existence while pining for Dan Heng. Unbeknownst to her, Dan Heng thinks she's into Argenti due to how ‘comfortable’ they appear so he chooses not to approach her and— yes, you can probably see where this is going.
@stickyspeckledlight Aventurine and Boothill. I think they should team up and destroy the capitalist empire of the Honkai-verse, IPC. But also because I think these two would appreciate their sense of humor :)
@vivalabunbun Pairing them with anyone other than Alhaitham feels kind of criminal but from my understanding, Viva is a very thoughtful individual and they also seem to value independence, so I think someone wise and understanding like Welt!
@iceunhie She gives off gentle sunshine vibes and I can't help but think of Blade in this case. But I think she can be protective of the people she loves as well, which is something he actually really needs. A very wholesome cycle of healing.
@beloved-blaiddyd Aside from their soulmate Gallagher, I had multiple random characters giving me ideas for some odd reason. First was Ruan Mei, idk how you feel about her Brynn, but I think a conversation between you two would be very interesting. Then I thought of Gepard with an unrequited love-esque storyline. Lastly, Sampo because I think you two would have great synergy. Hm. Maybe you should experiment with everyone until Gallagher himself yanks you away?
#there are others yes but i wrote for the ones who i had the most tangible ideas for :>#matchups#hsr matchups#honkai star rail#harmonysan.txt
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please please more 2019 quackity 🥲💞💞!! it was too adorable
Thank you! Thanks for the request!
Quackity Imagine: Jealous boy.
Of course Quackity was the best best friend you could ask for, but he's not perfect, he's a human being, he makes mistakes.
He made a mistake, he fell in love with you. His best friend. It was not his fault, you were beautiful, gorgeous, funny and cool and had the most beautiful smile of the world. How could he not fall in love with someone like you?!
Well, he'd be dead in a minute if you didn't stop talking to a random guy and laughing with him. He couldn't believe it. Who was him?! "Bye!" He hears you say to the boy as you approaches your best friend. "I'm ready to go, 'Lex." You say with a smile on your face. "Who was him?" He'd ask you.
"Why? Are you jealous?" You'd mock him, laughing. "I'm not, Y/N. Just tell me." He says seriously and you stop laughing, rolling your eyes with the sudden rudeness of your friend.
"He asked me out. I met him yesterday in that football game I told you I was going."
"Uhm." He whispers, feeling his heart hurt a little with your words. "Are you okay, Alex?"
"Sure." He answers as he starts to walk a little bit faster than usual. "Wait for me! Are you sure?" You'd say, approaching him. "Yes, Y/N. Stop asking."
"Jesus, Alex. What's wrong with you today?"
"Nothing."
You were going to his house so he'd help you with your homework and then you'd play a little together like you always do. The path that used to be full of conversations and laughter was silent today and you didn’t know why, asking in your mind if you said or did something wrong to your best friend.
As soon as you two arrived you went to his bedroom, Alex was so quiet you were worried, but you decide to talk with him later.
He helped you with your homework, you loved to see Alex talk about whatever, but your heart melted every time he was teaching you mathematics or geography. You knew you shouldn't feel what you felt for him, knowing he'd never feel the same for you. "Y/N, are you listening?!" He asks as he sees you were rambling while looking at him. "Yes, Alex. Of course I'm." You answered, smiling. "Then what I just said?" He asks and you laugh. "Uhm- Cosine is equal to adjacent side over hypotenuse...?" He laughs and rolls his eyes at the same time. "This is geometry, we are studying algebra, Y/N."
"Really? They're not all the same thing?" He looks at you with a shocked expression on his face. "I'm kidding, pendejo." You laugh as he gets out of bed. "You're a terrible person, Y/N."
"Thank you." You see Alex leave the room, he was probably going to the bathroom and you receive a message of the random guy, asking if you were free tomorrow. You sent him a "yess" and when Alex came back, you sat on his bed and smiled."Guess who has a date tomorrow afternoon?"
"What?" He asks. "What do you mean?"
"I'm going on a date with the guy I met at the football game, 'Lex!" You answer. "Yes, Y/N, but tomorrow you were going to stream with me." Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
"Sorry, can we remark the stream?"
"Really?!" Alex couldn't believe in you. Remark the fucking stream so you'd go on a date with an asshole?! Damn, it was better if you killed him with a knife.
"Yes. I just said I'd be free, 'Lex, please!" You say and he doesn't answer you, just looks at your face. "Alex."
"No, I'll do it by myself." He answers. "Can you leave?" What?! Was he asking you to leave? "What?! Why?" You get out of his bed and try to approach him. "Just go, Y/N."
"No, I won't. I'm sorry, Alex. I really forgot, I thought we'd stream only in the next week!" You say, Quackity rolls his eyes with your words."Yeah, sure." You feel the bitter irony in his voice and your heart hurts in your chest. "C'mon, I really want to stream with you, 'Lex."
"Yes, I see it." Alex starts to put away the books he was using with you. "I swear." You'd whisper.
"Whatever." God, you loved Alex with all your heart, but sometimes you'd hate him. "Go on your date."
"Stop acting like that!" You say. "You're being so mean to me the whole day."
"Uh, sorry? You're the one who left me so you can go on a fucking date with an asshole."
"You're jealous." You'd whisper."Why?"
"I'm not." He'd deny. "Be honest with me, Alex. C'mon, man, we're best friends."
"That's the problem." He says and you can hear the sadness in his voice. "We're best friends."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't make me explain, Y/N, please." His voice cracks a little and you approach him. Your heart were beating so fast, does the boy you were in love with loved you back?
"Do you like me?" You asked, staring at his face. "I'm in love with you. I know you don't feel the same, but..."
"Who said I don't?"
Alex was afraid of losing your friendship, but at the same time, he was relieved to have said what he really felt for you. When you cut him, he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. What? He thought, feeling his heart beating faster and gaining a little hope.
"Are you in love with me?" He asks, afraid of the answer, afraid of having misunderstood.
"Yes, dumbass." He smiles to you. "So there's no fucking way you're going to this fucking date tomorrow, Y/N."
"Fuck the date, Alex. I wanted to go when I didn't know my best friend was in love with me." You laugh.
"And you are in love with me." He says and you nod, with a smile on your face."Will you hit me if I kiss you?"
"Of course not, just do it." Alex smiles and leans in to kiss you, you feel his lips against yours and one of his hands on your cheeks, the other one on your waist. Kissing him was like an explosion of fireworks on New Year's Day, you both were in ecstasy as you experienced this kind of connection for the first time.
Alex break the kiss so you two can breath a little, he gives you a peck on the lips and holds your face with his both hands. "I love you so much, Y/N."
"I love you too, Alex, so much." You sit on his bed and grab your notebook with all those numbers and equations. "You have to finish helping me with my homework."
"Sure, but first we have more interesting things to do." He sits next to you, pulling your face close to his, you smile to him as he connects your lips.
Note: I'd do HC's but I dreamed with this one so I decided to write :D
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy the writing! :)
Requests are open!
#qsmp#quackity#quackity imagines#quackity imagine#quackity x reader#quackity x y/n#quackity x you#quackityhq#alex quackity#qsmp brazil#quackity qsmp#quackity scenario#qsmp brasil
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