#like it's the aloof and cold exterior while being down bad for him too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ifeelallwrite · 3 years

Text

Let’s talk about Hospital Playlist. (KDRAMA REVIEW)

note: does contain spoilers

When people ask me what is my favorite Korean drama of all time, with no doubt, IT’S HOSPITAL PLAYLIST. This drama has the comic relief, the emotional scenes, realistic characters-just to name a few. No toxic relationships and petty revenge fights. Nothing else will stop me for saying that this is the ultimate feel good drama.

SYNOPSIS: The drama shows insights into the daily lives of doctors and nurses working at Yulje Medical Hospital. It focuses on 5 doctors who have been friends since medical school, who also play together as a band.

This drama encompasses so many elements and characters so bear with me yo this might be real long

Hospital Playlist is produced/written by the Shin-Lee PD and writer pairing, whose previous works were the renowned Reply trilogy and Prison Playbook (which are *chef’s kiss*) I really like that all their dramas really highlight humanism, and puts emphasis on creating a heartwarming and realistic series. There isn’t always a major conflict to be resolved, but instead it showcases how different people-in this case mostly those in the medical field-go on about their daily lives. I also liked their reasoning to produce a medical drama which was that hospitals were where the most dramatic moments occurred, for example during births, deaths or sickness. And since we are still in the Covid-19 pandemic, it ties in greatly to be paying homage to all the medical personnel saving lives. Hence, props to those who were involved in this meaningful masterpiece <3

The drama is not the usual 16 episodes, but has 12 episodes for each season (SEASON 2 IS COMING SOON YAAS) Good thing is I felt that they were still able to weave a dynamic storyline in the first season even with lesser episodes. The writing was just top-notch with the witty humor bits. Additionally, the music is AMAZING. I love the concept of the main characters being a band and playing different songs every episode too.

Okay, now onto the characters. I thought that every character in this drama was well rounded. Starting of with the main five characters, also known as The 99ers, whose distinctive personalities and natural chemistry make all of them extremely likeable. All main characters are professors of different specialties, and I find the male OB-GYN (Seokhyeong) and female neurosurgeon (Songhwa) very refreshing. Also, I like Shin-Lee dramas always have characters that might be realistic yet hardly seen in other dramas or films. For example, Professor Ahn Jeongwon. Despite being a chaebol (inheritor/heir), he isn’t depicted as a spoilt brat or a cold character, instead as a warm Pediatric doctor who uses his wealth to secretly support patients in need. However it makes him stingy to his friends LOL

To be honest, I really thought I was gonna dislike Junwan due to his cold and tsundere nature. I pretty much believed that he was going to be the party pooper type of the bunch, but with the writer being a master of character development, he turned out to be really sincere and hilarious at times. Same for Ikjun, who apart from his enthusiastic and happy go lucky exterior, cares the most about the people around him. Although Seokhyeong seemed detached and introverted, he shows a emotional side to his friends as well as his mother. Songhwa is literally a girlboss though haha she’s smart, capable and gets along with everyone well. And she’s the most sane out of the bunch.

With all the main characters, we have the relationships. Junwan is the first to date seriously with Iksun (the dog or Micky? jkjk) who is Ikjun’s sister. When it first happened I was like not again Jung Kyung Ho (bc he dated his best friend’s sis in prison playbook too LMAO) I think their relationship was realistic and open. It also showed a more sensitive side to Junwan who would do anything for her. I especially liked how he said he didn’t need access to her phone because he trusted her. Yet as all couples do, they have their fair share of ups and downs. Like conflicts on getting married and a long distance relationship as Iksun moves overseas for graduate studies. I don’t really know how to take the ambiguous ending for these two, as Junwan receives the returned box (that has the ring he sent) I really hope nothing bad happens to these two though.

I’m sure we all love Wintergarden couple though, tbh they’re kinda my OTP at the moment 🤣 It was pretty much a ‘will they won’t they’ relationship with a relatively slow build. I think Gyeoul turned out to be one of my favourite characters. Shin Hyun Been did a good job at portraying her as a straightforward but innocent Resident, who is pretty much openly crushing on Jeongwon. The scenes they had together were adorably awkward (and the scene where he gives her chocopies omg) And when Jeongwon battles his inner conflict to become a priest, the final decision where they kiss was beautifully shot, with the actors both showcasing their emotions extremely well.

Then we have Chihong who pursues Songhwa, his professor. Midway through the drama, it is also shown that Ikjun and Songhwa might have had romantic feelings for each other. Songhwa ends up rejecting Chihong’s confession. In my opinion, Chihong was quite a interesting character but I didn’t really like him at the end. (I like the actor though) He did a real jerk move during drinking games, insisting on Ikjun to confess his feelings towards her even though he is already trying not to put Songhwa in an awkward spot. Although his character did end up making a cool exit and when I thought about his incredible story of soldier to doctor, I kinda regret disliking him that much. As for IkSong, In the final episode Ikjun confesses to her one last time, and we are left waiting for Songhwa’s reply. As much as I love this pairing, I don’t think that the ship will sail or maybe not as quickly as we think. I believe Songhwa would meticulously consider the sacrifices to their friendship or other aspects and might not be able to bring herself to it, but I hope it’s otherwise.

Lastly not forgetting Seokhyeong and Minha, another Professor+resident pairing. This one’s a bit ambiguous though, mainly because there hasn’t been much romantic development. To me, the most impactful scene came from Minha who had been irritated by continuous night shifts and was on the verge of a breakdown. She ended up remarkably saving a patient, starting off surgery on her own for the first time. Oh man Minha was such a lovable character, I remember feeling so bad for her but extremely proud of her for her accomplishment. Although Seokhyeong seemed a bit aloof and distant (which was intentional bc he’s an introvert) I think the backstory and all the hardships he faced with his family really made me feel for him. I hate to break it to you, but I’m not so sure if the ship will sail because of the phone call from his ex-wife and Minha’s somewhat rejected confession. But who knows, they might pull off a twist 👀

Apart from all these characters, there are more characters HHAHAH However, I think this is the killing point of ShinLee dramas. Unlike typical dramas which usually focuses on a main character and 2-3 side characters, they like to cast a diverse range of actors (especially those from theatre/musicals and lesser known drama/movie actors) while actually give their characters personality or a reason to be there. I’ve seen many dramas where extras or side characters were kind of irrelevant thus making me feel that they weren’t needed to build the storyline, yet ShinLee dramas hit different y’all. Every role, no matter how small, holds significance to the drama. It really seemed like a collaborative work that shows off every actors skills (and not forgetting staffs) and teamwork.

Anyways because there are way too many characters and too many scenes for me to mention them all, I’ll just talk about some honourable mentions heheh

1. Sunbin and Seokmin confession scene (ahh so cute)

I kinda sensed that they liked each other at the start but I didn’t know Seokmin would ask her out on a date at the end. Even though it’s kinda awkward that they are dating and working with each other though (both are in the same department) but hey the confession was cute and awkward and just warm and fuzzy 🥰

2. MAMA ROSA IS THE QUEENN

I think we all (would) love Mama Rosa because she’s a real one ☝️ (probably the coolest mother ever) She’s feisty, hilarious and kind to others. Plus her friendship with Ju Jong Su was just adorable and super wholesome. The scenes where they were supporting one another through tough times and hanging out with each other when they felt lonely always put a smile on my face. Oh and how Mama Rosa treated Gyeoul was extremely sweet. (as well as Seokhyeong’s mother) Despite her tough exterior, she’s a likeable character for being a strong but caring woman.

3. Just Do Jae Hak

I seriously love this guy so muchhh omg he’s so funny

Do Jae Hak has a funny amd clumsy personality, though it’s clear he’s been through a lot and is strong willed person. From admitting his indecisiveness to counselling Jun Wan on his love issues, there’s literally nothing to hate about him.

4. Uju and his dadd

The father and son chemistry between these two is so good omg. The scenes with these two are so adorable and heartwarming (not to mention hilarious) It’s amazing to see how Ikjun cares so much for Uju despite his hectic workdays while going through infidelity issues with his ex-wife. Uju is matured for his age and shows his love and appreciation for his dad too, making their interaction a great portrayal of a healthy family relationship💞

5. the food stealing the show🥘

Who doesn’t love food and when a show has great food scenes? Some of the best scenes are definitely when the 99s gather to eat. It really showcases each character’s personality with the tiniest details as well as highlight warm delicious meals. Just don’t watch this when you’re hungry at 2am in the morning guys you’ll be drooling all over your screens HAHAHA

Of course there are way more aspects, like Hongdo and Yoonbok, Ikjun and Iksun’s pigeon jokes and raps, or Jeongwon drunk crying in the chicken shop with his brother (who was his coach in Reply 1994 when he played Chilbong LOL)

Most importantly, I think it is the themes and messages that you get from the drama that really create such a lasting impression. Not only does it hit you in the feels with the hardships of hospital patients, or the hardworking doctors+nurses who are working long shifts saving lives, it also tackles topics of friendships through the possibilities of platonic and friends-to-lovers relationships. However I think the biggest lesson for me came from Seokhyeong, who learns to live his life doing what he want, with the people he treasures. Although the drama might seem slow at times (mainly because there isn’t really a main plot line/conflict occurring), but this drama would still bring you on a journey where you would laugh, cry and finish the series, begging for season 2 ✌🏻

76 notes · View notes

steepgan · 3 years

Text

someone dear (i) — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

PART I - PART II - PART III

bye i created this on a whim ive always wanted to write an mc who just likes money yet still carries the “happiness/freedom” ideals of mondstadt.. essentially its an mc whos like hell yeah i love money <3 and fun..!!! okay also i did not edit this at all i was just like <3 writing time baby..

Of course, working for the wealthiest gentleman in Mondstadt was no easy task. There were two places you could work: Dawn Winery or Angel’s Share. The winery, settled in the countryside, was a cozy job with friendly workers who saw rolling hills of green every day; however, the only available occupation within your skillset was being a maid. So you worked at Angel’s Share which was planted in the city, and there you were greeted with weary workers and angry people. It was plenty more fun, anyway.

Your boss was as impassive as a tree, giving you your pay and leaving you be. He kept a strange emotional distance. Which was fine. Totally fine. But whenever you wanted a raise, his aloof attitude warded you off and you’d tell yourself you’d try next time.

Growing up in a household where money was a prominent figure in your life, you had materialistic values and a great love for money. So during your employment at the tavern, you picked up more shifts than anyone else and seldom splurged. You were stuck giving your laments to your friends and returning customers who were kind enough to humor wails.

“One of these days, Lisa, I’m actually going to lose it,” you said to the librarian of the knights. You slumped your body on the bar, clearly in a professional fashion. “What do you want to drink?”

Lisa gave you a pitying look. “You could always become a knight or an adventurer. They receive plenty of pay through commissions.”

“No, thank you! I kind of want to live.”

“I don’t think I’ll have anything to drink,” Lisa said. She laughed at your sullen expression. “Today, at least. I have to explore these ruins later today. I really, really don’t want to, but Jean is making me.”

You slid a tin can labelled TIPS to Lisa. “Every time you don’t want to do something it’s five mora.”

“Since when did this become a thing?”

“It’s always been a thing. I was just giving you a family-friend discount up until now.”

Lisa dropped the coins into the can. You smiled at the sound of click-clank. Lisa rested her cheek on the palm of her hand and said, “have you ever thought about… not working for the tavern? I’m sure there are other places in the world that’ll appreciate your pleasant company.”

“Yeah, but Master Diluc pays the best in Mondstadt if you don’t have a decent education under your belt,” you said dryly. “I’d have to travel out of Mondstadt to find a better opportunity.”

“There’s always the cathedral,” Lisa offered.

“Do you see me as a devout follower to any god other than money? [Name], Humble Follower of Barbatos Since The Beginning! Engrave that on my tombstone, would you?”

“I don’t really want to do that.”

You pushed the tin can toward the librarian.

Lo and behold, the man of the hour strutted in with his typical apathy. If he carried himself with a more open chest and with his chin up, you’d find him more agreeable, more approachable. He’d be knightly, even. But Diluc hated knights. He hated small talk, too. He hated a lot of things.

He was a man of good looks and good fortune, in addition to being Mondstradt’s most eligible brooding bachelor bastard, donning a nice black coat with golden trimmings and tassels. A coat that’d fetch a nice price if you were to pawn it off. Not that you were thinking about selling your boss’ clothes. He stood at a decent height with his vermillion messy hair tied back and narrow eyes framed with thick lashes.

When Diluc walked through the doors, he didn’t spare you a glance before climbing up the stairs to deal with some other matters. As long as you did your job, he didn’t bother you.

Lisa whistled. “He’s so cold.”

“Pays well, though,” you murmured absentmindedly. Lisa looked as if she wanted to say something. Maybe it was something about how money didn’t exactly suffice for human relationships. Or something about her future job for the knights. Whatever was on the tip of her tongue, she chose not to say it, and dropped a few more mora coins into your little tin can.

Your relationship with Diluc was strange. You took enough shifts to be one of the most well-compensated workers under him, but you didn’t exactly know Diluc outside of his cool exterior. You didn’t know if you’d wanted to, either. Some nights, he’d come home right before the tavern’s opening, his clothes tattered and dirty and a grim feature coating his pretty features.

Typically you’d be working and cleaning, and you’d nod to him. Diluc would then take off to the second floor of the tavern. You never questioned it. You never would, either, unless you were paid to do so.

One late night, it was just you cleaning up for the night and Diluc sitting at the bar, going through some papers. Diluc offered to take Charles’ shift for the day, to which the man was grateful for. As you were wiping down the bar, Diluc said, “I never knew we had a tip jar.”

“It’s an ongoing gag with Lisa,” you said. “Please don’t mind it.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It was a joke with Lisa! You simply kept it out on the counter for every customer to see all day and all night. If they happen to drop mora in there for your charming smile and excellent service, who were you to stop them?

Diluc said nothing. You hadn’t expected him to. He’d let it slide, you supposed. If the tavern had a best employee of the month award, you would have won it consecutively for the last few years you’d been employed under the pretty man. However, Diluc was no great lover of trivial awards that were actually poorly concealed incentives, and as long as you were paid accordingly, you didn’t care about awards, either.

“If you needed a raise then say it,” he said suddenly. And you were surprised.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No need.”

When you left the tavern you squealed. Patton, the caller, awoke from his nap from a chair supposedly for customers. His legs had been propped on the accompanying table, which you had cleaned earlier so you didn’t have to deal with a certain customer who had too much to drink inside.

Patton rubbed his eyes groggily. “What’s up, [Name]?”

“I got a raise!” you exclaimed. “I’m so happy I could kiss you right now, Patton.”

“Please don’t,” he said. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Oh, leftovers.” You gave the small bag you were holding a good jostle. “It’s for the dog up there. I have a habit of feeding him every once in a while whenever there’s good scraps.”

Patton eyed you. “If you get bit and infected with rabies, maybe I’ll take your raise. Try and pet it for me, would you?”

“In your dreams, Patton.”

After a few taunts and banter, you left Patton alone. In a few hours, you’d come back to the tavern to work more. Before your mom had been hospitalized, you’d maybe put your extra money to treat yourself to Good Hunter or to buy new clothes.

Of course, while money was one of your many goals, you had other aspirations as well. More than anything, you’d like to resume a humble life in Mondstadt. If you could afford it, then you’d travel to Liyue and sightsee. And then maybe a little further. But you’d always return to Mondstadt. It was just home to you, and you liked home.

You crouched and fed the dog. He pressed his snout into your palm, warm and comforting. You giggled and finished the leftovers from your little sack. As much as Patton wanted you to die of infection, the dog was very tame and kind toward you. He let you brush his fur and scratch behind his ears. If you had enough patience and enough time, you’d teach him to bite Patton.

The next day, you were working with Charles, as per usual. He’d been working here far longer than any of you. You’d been employed here for a while now, and you’d come to know the man quite well after rowdy nights and quiet days in the tavern. He despised a drunk customer as much as you, but whenever you were on shift with him, he always offered to take care of it.

If not you, then Charles would get the nonexistent employee of the year award.

“Just put up a work wanted poster,” Charles said, cleaning a glass. “Judging by our usuals, we won’t get an honest inquiry for it in a while.”

You, who’d been making an apple cider, said, “oh, for the boars?” While you did want to work at the winery for its pleasant view and people, there were boars who’d been uprooting vines and you did not want to tussle with a boar.

“Say, [Name], you heard of the Darknight Hero?”

“Who hasn’t?” you asked. “My friends talk about him all the time. Everyone likes a good mystery around these parts. Have you seen the library? Oh, and the idea of him being handsome isn’t that bad… Do you think he’s rich, Charles?”

Charles snorted. “If he can afford to leave at night to protect Mondstadt, then he must be rich. He’s no worker like us, but he’s definitely noteworthy. He may as well just be an urban rumor, though, so don’t go around trying to seduce him only to get into his pockets.”

“I would never!”

“I saw you make eyes at a customer who was wearing very fine jewelry that could be pawned off for a high price.”

“I liked her eyes. They were kind. Reminded me of a princess from a fairytale.”

Diluc came from upstairs to the first floor. He was the same as he’d always been—closed off, calm, and collected. Fitting. He cast a quick glance at you and Charles before disappearing outside onto the streets of Mondstadt.

“That’s Master Diluc for you,” Charles said. “So elusive you could call him a ghost. A handsome, ghost, that is.”

“I barely know anything about him,” you said. “Elusive is correct, if not absolutely distant.”

“Really? You should talk to him more often.”

There was already a set difference between you and Charles. Firstly, it would be the years working at Angel’s Share. Charles knew Diluc more than you did. You wanted to point this out, but instead you slumped your shoulders. “He’s just so unapproachable, Charles. You wouldn’t understand. That mustache of yours makes you look amicable and agreeable.”

Charles self-consciously twirled the end of his mustache. He looked as if he wanted to say something. He turned back to his work, setting the clean glass down. “You and Master Diluc seem to complement each other, that’s all.”

You were very friendly and a good person underneath all your materialistic values. Had it not been for Diluc’s offstandish personality, maybe you and Diluc would be a little more than boss and employee. Maybe you and Diluc would be friends.

Of course, your main focus was your happiness and sanity. If you’d interacted with Diluc outside of work, you might’ve gone insane. Oh! And money. It was always money. You watched a customer drop a few mora into the tip jar.

PART I - PART II - PART III

#diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc #x reader #PLEASEEEE IM LOSING IT ITS ACTUALLY SO BAD IM NOT HAPPY AT ALL #genshin impact fluff

119 notes · View notes

judediangelo75 · 3 years

Text

Crushed

Okay, so I mentioned an a random post that I wanted to show the two halves that make, well her.

A painfully timid and skittish side (which mainly developed when she started living with her mother when she came to London. While she can hold her ground against her a bit more, she still fears her mother) and the coldhearted side (which developed at Hogwarts, where all the issues, tragedies and so on harden her).

I was on my Wattpad where I can a collection of Judith and Talbott stories (though there’s not much backstory or structure on there) and this story definitely would show that timid side of her. I tweaked it so it can be better than what I have posted over there.

Just to be clear: This side DOES exist. It’s her most vulnerable side of her. The reason it’s not shown is because Judith doesn’t like showing that side of her. Where she feels like a piece of glass that can break at any second.

She struggles with anxiety. She doesn’t like having too many eyes on her, she feels like people are constantly watching for any mistakes like her mother and exploit it. It gets pretty bad to where she gets anxiety attacks (she usually runs and hides out for awhile until it’s over. Like I said, she doesn’t like showing this side of her, and WILL NOT share this side unless you pry it out of her).

While she doesn’t show it often, she does talk peoples’ words to heart at times. Which doesn’t help her low self esteem.

She does her best to find coping mechanisms to help over the years and does build genuine confidence. But it takes time.

Alright there, you have a back of backstory of that side of her.

Just FYI, this is just to show that side of her (like if her more dominant side; because usually when you push her, that cold side would seep through a bit. You would hardly ever see her skittish)

Okay, I rambled on enough. ON WITH THE STORY!

(Judith Harris)

"There goes Demented Harris," I heard someone whispered to their friend before they broke out into snickers as I walked out of my Transfigurations class. I just kept my head down and walked past them.

Sometimes I think that coming to Hogwarts was a mistake.

Ever since the incident with my brother years ago, everyone suspects that I'll be just like him.

Become hellbent on finding the Cursed Vaults, getting expelled, and disappear. Never to be heard from again.

I have broke a few curses since my second year but I stayed pretty sane. I’m a good student and sought to become a Healer when I graduate. I don’t plan on dropping off of the face of the Earth...

Even though I’m sure nobody would miss me if I did...

I sighed. I would’ve thought some people would at least be a bit grateful for what I’ve done for them, for the school, thus far. But like my mother always said, I’m asking for too much in life.

It’s fine though. If I can't find love and appreciation in people, then I can in magical creatures at least.

"Miss Harris?" I blinked, coming out of my thoughts to look down. Professor Flitwick smiled up at me once he saw he had my attention.

"Good day, Miss Harris," he greeted. I gave a shy smile and nodded, whispering a soft hello.

"If it’s not too much trouble, if you're free, I was wondering if you can assist me in a class for first years. One of my top students already agreed to help, but I would love one of my favorites to join in on the lesson," he said. My smile widen a bit before I nodded once more, following the small man to the Charms classroom.

There were times I wished I joined Ravenclaw. I enjoyed spending time with the ex-Dueling Champion. He was one of the few people who treated me with kindness. He didn’t see me as my brother, but for me.

I loved to help him, when it’s for tutoring, helping for the younger students or even for helping the Frog Choir whenever he needs extra help (he’s disappointed that I didn’t actually join, but settled for this arrangement).

I even spend my birthday, which was also his, with him. Something I haven’t done since Papa died.

I let out a mental sigh. But I wasn’t a Ravenclaw. Which might as well be a blessing, seeing how I have an easier time avoiding him.

"Ah, here we are!" I almost missed Mr. Flitwick's delightful cheer when we entered the classroom. All I could focus on what the feeling of my blood going cold when I saw who was the other teaching assistant.

Talbott Winger...

I quickly ducked my head when he turned to look over in Mr. Flitwick and I's direction. How did that saying go?

Speak of the devil and he shall appear? Whoever said that was on something...

"I hope we didn't keep you waiting, Mr. Winger," Mr. Flitwick said as he hopped up on his tower of books. From the corner of my eye, I saw Talbott give him a small smile.

"Not at all Professor. What will we be helping you teach today," he asked. As Professor Flitwick explained today's lesson, I stood quietly a few feet away from Talbott, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. Flitwick pointed to the basket of feathers and had us place one at each seat. I remained silent as I handled my task from one side of the room.

I developed a crush on Talbott when he helped me become an Animagus. To this day, I don't know why he agreed to help me. Maybe because I have access and knew things that he didn't?

Either way, I couldn't help but to fall for him.

He just seem so handsome to me. From his neat, slicked back hair to his beautiful red eyes.

I appreciate the fine art of sarcasm, which he seems to be a master in (next to me of course). I find him hilarious whenever he’s feeling sassy or playful.

Helping him find his mother's necklace made me realize that there is a beautiful heart and creative mind that he hides under that aloof and unapproachable exterior.

Which made me fall faster.

The smile that spread on his face when he said that we were friends just melted my heart in a helpless puddle of love...

But I wouldn't really go as far we were "buddy-buddy". More like acquaintances, hell I'll be lucky enough to call us that even. I would see him around, maybe give a wave. Half of the time he rarely sees it though, making me look awkward in the process...

I don't know why I try to get his attention. It doesn't matter because I know he doesn't feel the same way about me. I remember his reaction when I confessed to him, clear as day.

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

Flashback

"Rather than erase pre-existing memory, it might be easier for you if you tell Mr. Winger a new piece of information. Something that he didn't know before and won't forget, then use the Memory Charm to erase that memory," Flitwick suggested. I heard Talbott made a noise of agreement. I turned to find him sizing me.

"I'm okay with that. If you're just gonna erase my memory of it, you might as well tell me an interesting secret, Judith," Talbott suggested, a hint of mischief dancing in those red eyes. I bit my lip and shyly glanced at the Ravenclaw boy. Maybe I can confess my feelings and see how he feels about me...

"Th-Then this might be a g-good opportunity to tell y-y-you that... I-I-I fancy you, Talbott..." Flitwick and Talbott looked at me in shock.

"Oh my!" Flitwick gasped. I felt my face burn with embarrassment and shame as Talbott looked anxiously at me.

"Wh-what? Are... are you serious," he exclaimed. I rubbed my arm sheepishly, waiting for him to say more.

"Why? I mean... er..." I felt a bit of dread build in the pit of my stomach. Was he surprised? Or was he uncertain on how to let me down gently?

"Thank you," he finally said, though it came out more like a question. I buried my burning face in my hands.

"This probably wasn't the right time..." Or any time for that matter.

The boy rarely looked in my direction, why would I even think he would express some kind of interest in a witch like me?

"Ahem, perhaps now would be a good time to try casting Obliviate..." I never agreed with Professor Flitwick more. I quickly pulled out my wand, pointing it at Talbott.

For a moment, I could’ve sworn a look of protest in his red eyes, but didn’t want to dwell on it too much.

Talbott was not leaving this room with that memory, not if I can help it.

After casting the spell, Talbott looked lost then a little frustrated, like he was struggling to remember something.

"What do you remember, Talbott," I asked as I withdrew my wand. I needed to know if the spell worked or not so I determine if I should go into hiding for the rest of my time at Hogwarts...

"I remember you choosing to cast Obliviate on me, then... nothing," He replied. I let out a sigh of relief.

"That means Obliviate worked," I cheered. Talbott looked at me suspiciously.

"Now you've gotten me curious. What did you tell me," he asked.

Ha! You're hilarious if you think I'm repeating that situation twice. I'd sooner jump into the Black Lake.

"I'll tell you later," I smirked. By later, I mean never.

Like ever.

He returned the smirk.

"I'm going to hold you to that..." Over my dead body, Winger...

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

Ever since then, only two people know of my crush on Talbott.

Professor Flitwick and Penny.

I'm pretty sure he forgot about that whole situation and I'm more than grateful for it. I wasn't gonna confess again back then and I'm not looking to confess now.

Once the classroom was set up, the first years filed in and took their seats. Professor Flitwick introduced both of us to the class. As Flitwick went over the basics of the lesson, Talbott turned to look at me. I almost jumped out of my skin.

"How are you, Judith," he asked, a small smile tugging on his lips.

"I-I'm o-okay... and yourself," I stuttered. Judith, words! Use them!

"I'm doing good... I must admit, being here together brings back memories," he said. I fidgeted, already knowing what he was implying.

"O-oh," I asked, trying to play dumb. He looked me in my eyes.

"Yeah, where we came to Flitwick to learn the Memory Charm... I'm glad you talked me out of using it on Merula by the way," he admitted, his smile growing. I felt a blush blossom on my cheeks.

Gods, why is he so handsome?

"It's not a problem, Talbott," I said softly, looking down so he wouldn’t see my red face. He hummed before saying,

"You know, you never told me what you said to me when you erased my memory.”.

"Miss Harris, do you think can come and demonstrate the proper stance and help the class correct their stance?" I darted away to help Professor Flitwick. The Gods are looking out for me today.

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

(Talbott Winger)

I frowned when the young Hufflepuff basically ran away from me to help Flitwick.

Judith seems naturally shy, but never have I ever seen her outright run from something. She took on Cursed Vaults, but she runs from a simple question.

Ever since she erased my memory of whatever she told me, the situation would pass through my mind from time to time. I just wasn't sure how to approach the topic with her. Today seem like the perfect opportunity to broach the topic with the cute Hufflepuff.

Yes, I said cute. Because she is.

I admit I didn't like how she was so pressed to help me in the beginning but I slowly grew fond of the girl.

Plus, she was very beautiful.

Ever since I hit my growth spurt, I towered over the Hufflepuff by at least a good 5 to 6 inches. She was a bit on the short side, but where I was standing, she seems small and it was adorable.

Her sweet face was one of my favorite things to look at. Despite her shyness, her facial expressions usually spoke for her sometimes. The way her nose would scrunch up in distaste when she heard something unpleasant or she didn't like. The way her brow would crease in concentration when she's in class or studying. The way she would hide her flushed cheek behind her hand when she's embarrassed. The way her eyes would speak for her when she can't formulate words...

I normally wouldn't pay much attention to the opposite sex as far as physical appearance but I must admit, there was a time or so where I wondered what she looked like in more form fitting clothes, instead of her House robes or her trusted yellow hoodie.

Her shyness made her all more endearing.

The way her gold eyes would widen slightly when someone focuses their attention on her. The way her sweet voice would sometimes stutter when she tries to talk. Sometimes hitting a higher octave when she feels insulted. How she would bring the bottom half of her hoodie to cover her face when she's blushing. How she fiddles with her dark brown hair when she's nervous.

She was cavity-inducing...

"Mr. Winger, can you come up with Miss Harris to cast today's spell?" I heard Professor Flitwick call.

I smiled as I walked up to stand beside the suddenly flustered Hufflepuff. Together we were able to levitate our own feathers, flying them across the room. I peeked over at Judith, seeing a beautiful smile spread on her face. My heart fluttered at the sight.

Such a shy and quiet beauty.

"Excellent, just excellent," Flitwick praised. Judith looked down, shuffling her feet. We soon went on the opposite sides of the room to help any students with the spell. I stole some glances at her, finding her smiling and laughing with the first years, applauding them when they successfully cast the spell.

She looked so happy...

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

Once class was over and we finished cleaning the classroom, Judith was already gone before I could question her again. I softly cursed beneath my breath.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Winger," Professor Flitwick asked. I perked up a bit. Maybe he knows, he was there after all...

"I was wondering if you could help me with something... about Judith," I said softly. He nodded.

"Do you remember what Judith told me the day you taught us the Memory Charm?" He looked surprised and mused over what I said.

"So I'm assuming Miss Harris never told you what she said that day," he said. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winger, but it is simply not my place to tell you," he sighed. I rubbed a hand over my face, suddenly tired. Will I ever know what that girl said?

"May I ask you something, Mr. Winger?" I looked up the the short man.

"Is it possible you fancy the girl? I've noticed how you looked at her during class," he asked. I felt a blush working its way up to my neck.

Am I obvious?

"Of course not, Mr. Winger. But you are in my house, I take the time to learn my students throughout the years," Flitwick chuckled. I glared at the man's teasing.

"Yes... I started to grow fond of her and she is rather endearing," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. The professor smiled at me.

"Although I can't tell you what she said, I'm sure you can get your answer if you spend some more time with the girl," he offered. I frowned.

"But I rarely see her around, except for class and in passing," I said. The girl was extremely scarce, despite having her own friends. Flitwick looked thoughtful for a few moments before saying,

"Why not ask Hagrid for her whereabouts? I know she spends a decent amount of time with the man." Not a bad idea...

"I'll go do that now, thank you Professor and enjoy the rest of your day," I smiled, walking out.

Time to catch me a little Hufflepuff.

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

"Hello, Hagrid," I said, approaching the giant man. Hagrid turned to me with a big smile.

"Hello there, Talbott! What can I do fer ya?" Fang barked and ran up to me. I chuckled and bent down to pet the dog.

"I was hoping if you could help me find someone," I said as I rubbed Fang's belly. The man laughed cheerfully.

"Why of course, m' boy! Who are you lookin' fer?," he asked.

"Judith, have you seen her," I asked, silently praying he'll agree to help. Hagrid looked taken aback at my request.

"I- er..." I rose a brow at him.

"I don't know Talbott... Judith made me promise not to tell anyone where she goes when she has free time," he said, looking a bit sad.

Here I thought I preferred being alone, but clearly she has me beat...

"Why is it that she wants to be alone so much," I asked. I was a bit upset that I couldn't find the girl as easily as I would like.

"There are some cruel kids in this ‘ere school, Talbott. The girl has a lot more weight on her shoulders than anybody realizes," Hagrid sighed. I frowned.

"What does that mean," I asked.

"Pay close attention to what people say when she's around," Hagrid simply said.

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

Taking the man's advice, I watched the girl as closely as possible the next few weeks. I must admit, it hurt me seeing the girl being pushed around.

Demented Harris.

Jinxed Judith.

Jamal #2.

The shoves.

The laughs.

The public humiliation.

Those hurt gold eyes, shimmering with unshed tears.

No wonder she's so quiet and hardly around. Any form of attention brought to her is negative.

I miss seeing her smile...

Today I planned on confronting her, hopefully to provide some comfort.

In my Animagus form, I silently followed the girl as she walked out of the castle in the direction of the Magical Creature Reserve. Perching myself in a tree nearby, I watched as she walked in a grassy field, carrying a bag of creature feed.

As she approached a Niffler, Knarl, Porlock, Diricrawl, and Abraxan all perked up at the sight of her.

"Feeding time, my loves," she called, her voice sweet and full of affection. The creatures all bounded towards her. Her Niffler, bounded up her legs, torso to rest on her shoulders. The Knarl rolled around her feet before bumping into her left foot. The Porlock trotted up to nuzzle her right calf, it's tail waging. Her Diricrawl nuzzled her left leg, flapping its small wings. The Abraxan trotted around her, nuzzling her hair.

The girl was giggling at her creatures’ enthusiasm.

"One at a time, everyone. You will all get your turn," she said. She looked so cute, surrounded by all these creatures.

Once she fed them all, she and them all walked around the field and to my hiding place. The Abraxan looked directly at me and huffed. It turned and used its hide legs to kick the tree. I let out a surprised squawk and flew out before I could fall.

"Angel! What's gotten into you, it's just an eagle," Judith cried, running up to the winged horse to soothe it. I landed a few feet away and her Porlock stared at me warily.

Can her creatures tell I'm not really just an eagle? The Porlock went up to me, sniffing me before letting out a soft huff of distrust.

Yeah, they can...

Giving up the act, I transformed back into my human form. The Porlock let out a small startled cry and ran to Judith, hugging her leg.

"What's wrong, Baron-" Judith froze when she saw me standing there. I let out a bashful smile.

"Talbott! Wh-what are y-you..." she trailed off, looking down. I slowly walked towards her, doing my best not frighten her.

"I just wanted to see you, Judith," I said softly.

"Why," she asked firmly, turning to face me. I took in her full appearance and blushed a bit.

She was wearing a floor length sundress, white on the top that gradients to a soft shade of yellow. It was form fitting, hugging her curves perfectly. Her full chest, small waist, her abs, her slowly rounding hips.

Her hair was in twists. Most of it was pulled back in a low ponytail while the rest formed her bang that occasionally sweep over her right eye.

Her face was free of makeup, save a gloss over her plump lips. Her skin was basically glowing...

I swallowed thickly.

She was...uh... rather developed for someone was just 16.

Oh boy...

"I want to spend some time with you," I said, reminding myself to breathe. Her pretty gold eyes widen and she shifted uncomfortably on each foot.

"S-spend time with m-me," she repeated, sounding lost. I nodded, getting closer. We were only less than a foot apart now and I could smell her perfume. I tried my best to keep my breathing even, even though I was to take in more of that pleasant smell.

I held out my hand. She looked down, extremely confused.

"We could start with a walk around the Creature Reserve... if you'd like," I suggested, silently hoping that she'll say yes.

A few moments past and I could feel my nerves starting to take over. Before I could pull back, Judith laid her small hand in mine, stepping close.

"Okay... but we're visiting the rest of my creatures in the meanwhile," she said, staring at my chest. Slowly, I grasped her chin to tilt upwards so she can meet my eyes.

She had one of prettiest eye colors I've seen, I could get lost in them all day...

"Of course, anything for you," I said with a smile. Her eyes went wide and she abruptly buried her face in my chest. I felt my heart stutter at her unexpected closeness but didn't push her away.

Gods, she was so cute...

"C'mon, what other creatures do you have," I chuckled, gently nudging her from her hiding place. She flustered at our proximity to one another and simply held my hand, leading me to other parts of the reserve.

The entire time, I couldn’t help but to notice the feeling of her hand in mine.

Her hand had a few callouses on her fingertips and a bit on her palm, assuming from all the writing and physical work that she does. But her hand felt soft overall.

To me, it shows how strong she is, all while still having a gentle touch.

Perfectly her...

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

I made some decent progress with Judith the next few weeks.

She was able to open up to me and allow me to help her take care of the creatures she adopted. It was nice to see her laugh and smile around me.

There was moments of slight awkwardness, like some of her creatures pushing us closer together. The bigger creatures were especially known for this. One time, Griffin, her Hippogriff, purposefully picked up the girl and set her on his back, as if going on flight. He never gave her adequate time to properly hold on, so when he took off, she would fall over and I have to race to catch her. I always found myself holding her protectively against my chest, our faces just an inch or two apart.

More than once, I've been tempted to kiss her.

But I simply set her down while she shyly thanked me and scurried off.

We were sitting side by side each other, under the shade of a large tree. Another sundress hugged her frame, this time white and royal blue. Her Porlock, Baron, was cuddling up against her as she scratched behind his ears.

"Hey Judith," I called out softly. Her pretty gold eyes shyly glanced at me.

"Yes," she answered. Taking a deep breath, I brought up the question,

"Why wouldn't you tell me what happened in Charms class that day?" she stiffen a bit and Baron let out a soft huff of worry. I reached out for her hand, intertwining our fingers.

"Please don't shut me out, Judith. I just simply want to know," I said softly. I watched as she gave the young Porlock a final scratch behind his ears before sending him off.

“I-I... I’m scared to see your reaction again,” she quietly admitted. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, we’re a bit older and mature now. I’m sure I can handle it better this time,” I told her. She peeked at me from her short curly lashes before looking away.

She mumbled something under her breath.

"What was that," I asked, scooting over closer. The sweet smell of coconuts and cocoa butter greeted my senses, and I wanted to close my eyes in bliss.

"I...Talbott," she said a bit louder. Growing bold, I gently grasp her chin to look so she can face me.

"One more time for me, Judith..." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let out a soft whimper.

"I fancy you, Talbott," she quietly sobbed, trying to pull away from me. I froze. Judith likes me...?

She feels the same way.

My lack of response made things worse as her eyes grew wide and frantic.

"I-I-I'm sorry! I di-didn't- you-you don't ha-have to-" her ramblings with a soft gasp. I pulled the girl into my lap, hugging her.

Judith went still, her nerves undoubtedly getting the best of her.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, little bird... I fancy you too," I whispered into her hair. She shyly met my eyes, hope shining brightly in those gold orbs.

"Y-Y-You do," she asked, trying to blink away any tears in her eyes. I gently wiped her tears away from my thumbs, she let out a soft breath at my touch.

"I do, Judith. And I want to prove it to you. Everyday... While at Hogwarts and beyond," I said softly. Feeling bold, I peppered kisses all over her face. Her eyes fluttered closed as I did this, her breathing slowly evening out. When I pulled back a little, she clenched at my robes with a whimper, pressing herself against me.

"T-Talbott, I-I-I..." Her expression was uncertain and fearful. I noticed how her gaze would land on my lips before darting back up to meet my gaze.

Rubbing her back, I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers.

She readjusted herself so she would be straddling my lap, her lips still moving shyly against mine. I groaned a little and squeezed her a bit closer. My hands followed the outline of her waist and hips, memorizing it. One of her hands was clenching at my robes and the other fisted in my hair. I groaned throatily. Gods, she's so perfect...

I pulled away, kissing the tip of her nose.

"You're so beautiful and perfect, darling," I cooed, nuzzling her cheek. I could partially feel the temperature rise and chuckled.

"And adorable," I added, pecking her lips. She pouted at me when I pulled away. I chuckled again.

"Don't give me that cute sad face," I told her. She grumbled but snugged against my chest. I sighed and ran my fingers through her hair.

"Talbott..." I hummed, letting her know I was listening.

"I like you," she said, kissing my cheek. I smiled and squeezed her tight.

"I like you too..."

#hphm #hphm mc #hphm talbott #hphm talbott winger #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #judith harris #hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott x mc #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott winger #talbott winger x jacob's sibling #talbott winger x mc #jacob's sibling #jacob's sister #hufflepuff!mc #hufflepuff x ravenclaw #fluff

38 notes · View notes

taestfully · 4 years

Text

They have a soft spot for you

Request: Hii~ i would like to request a reactions of bts be bad boys but have soft spot for reader^ ut thar possible? If no thats okay too! 💛 Sorry for bad english😬

A/N: Enjoy 💕

Seokjin

Jin had a bad reputation, but was one of the smoothest guys around. Had so much charm that literally anyone could fall for him. He was the bad guy that had everyone swooning. And of course, he used that fact to his advantage. It was his smooth words and suave persona that had ultimately convinced you to let him take you out.

Bad boy Jin, a rebellious flirt, had the biggest soft spot for you. He didn’t intend for the two of you to be serious, but your cute innocence had him falling head over heels.

“I guess you could say I tamed the beast,” you said, snickering at your boyfriend. “You’re not so much of a bad boy after all.”

Jin smirked. “Careful about who you say that to. I have a reputation to keep, sweetheart.”

It was hard to deny the way he was so soft for you, but he definitely wouldn’t let anyone else know that.

Yoongi

After being in a relationship with you, keeping his cold, detached exterior up was proving to be hard for Yoongi. He was known to the be the cool, aloof bad boy around town, but you were making him feel so soft and fuzzy.

The Yoongi everyone else thought they knew and the Yoongi you knew were two different people. He was so gentle with you, so careful that it seemed as if he thought of you like glass.

“Angel,” Yoongi spoke as his thumb caressed your cheek. “My angel.”

You giggled at the pet name, loving the way his eyes looked at you with adoration. The stone cold frown was nowhere to be found on his face, nothing but softness present in his features. “An angel for a devil. What a pair.”

He smiled at that.

Hoseok

To everyone else, he was Hoseok. To you, he was Hobi. Your hobi. The difference between the two personas he portrayed often gave you whiplash, the way he could switch at the drop of a hat dizzying. You loved it, though. You loved being the only one he was soft for while being a cold, unrelenting bad guy to everyone else.

He was so sweet to you. He laughed with you and always wanted to have fun with you. His smile was your favorite thing. It was always so bright and it made you happy that you were the only one he showed it to. “I love your smile,” you told him sweetly.

Hobi chuckled. “What smile? I’m too tough for smiles, (y/n).” He was obviously joking, because a grin was trying to break across his lips.

You poked his cheek. “You can’t hide it from me.”

Hobi grinned, shaking his head before leaning down to kiss you.

Namjoon

You never thought you’d end up with the likes of Kim Namjoon, the resident ‘bad boy’ on campus. But he never thought he’d end up with you, either. The two of you were polar opposites. He was rebellious and you abided by the rules. He was rough around the edges when you were smooth and soft.

You didn’t expect such an amazing relationship to bloom between you. And you certainly didn’t expect Namjoon to treat you with such care. He always treated you as if you were royalty. “You’re not what I expected,” you told him.

He gave you an odd look, but a smile was present on his lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You laughed. “I just mean that you’re so...soft,” the look on his face at your word choice made you laugh again. “You’re so good to me and before I met you I thought you were a mean asshole.”

Namjoon shook his head at you. “Oh, don’t worry, I am a mean asshole. Just not to you, baby.”

Jimin

Jimin had a soft spot for you and no matter how he tried to deny it, you knew. It wasn’t like it was hard to figure out. If you knew Jimin and his lifestyle and the reputation he’d formed for himself, you knew that he wasn’t soft for just anyone. The way he treated you as compared to how he treated others was a night and day difference. He literally could’ve just cussed someone out and then look at you and say the sweetest things.

“Admit it,” you said, a smirk on your lips. “You’re soft for me, Park.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, but you caught the glimpse of amusement that flickered in them. “Soft? No way,” he replied, but his tone was light. “Soft for you, my absolute most favorite person in the world? Never.”

You giggled and you ran into his arms, making Jimin giggle along with you. You were the only person he’d giggle like this with.

Taehyung

Taehyung did not care one bit if people knew that he, the town’s notorious ‘bad boy’, was head over heels for you. In fact, he wanted everyone to know that he was only sweet to you and you alone. You were his treasure.

And boy did he treat you like treasure.

He showered you with so much affection that you could never want for more. He was so good to you that you often had trouble believing the nasty rumors everyone spoke about him. “I don’t think you’re a bad guy.”

Taehyung smiled. “You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not one bit. You’re the sweetest guy I know.”

“Ah, that’s because I’m only like this with you,” the way emphasized ‘you’ had you blushing. “You and you alone, sweetheart.”

Jungkook

You realized that you’d worked your way into Jungkook’s heart when he stopped trying to act all macho around you and instead started acting like a complete dork. He still kept up appearances around others, but with you he was a sweet, lovable goober that you couldn’t help falling for.

“Hey there,” you greeted as you wrapped your arms around his neck from your place behind him.

Jungkook grinned. It was an odd feeling, the little fuzzy sensation inside him. But he liked it, and he liked you. You were the first person to make him feel this way. He’d grown such a soft spot for you and there was definitely no turning back. “Hi, baby.”

“Baby? Aw, you’ve even got a pet name for me now. Look at you being endearing.”

“I won’t call you that if you don’t want me to,” he joked.

You shook your head. “No, I love it.”

#bts reactions #bts #kpopwonderlandtag #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts requests #bts army #bts ot7 #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

439 notes · View notes

nad-zeta · 4 years

Text

Match up! (~˘▾˘)~

Hi again…can I get an Ikevamp match-up? I got curious on who I would end up with tbh😅😅😅

About myself…I never lose a temper, I am extremely shy and quiet, it’s extremely difficult for me to trust new people. I am around 5'9 feet tall, above shoulder length messy brown hair tied into a ponytail; I would be mistaken for a boy if I let my hair down. I wouldn’t even notice if they mistook me for a boy until someone addresses me as one😅😅😅. I look intimidating at first sight because 1.)I am silent most of the time, I look cold and aloof, I never smile, and 2.) I can be blunt without noticing + my difficulty of showing emotions would make them think I’m judging their soul *yikes…whoops?😅😅😅*. That intimidates most people and when in reality when I am the one who feels more intimidated by them. 😅😅

Once I warm up, I have this side that only my family and close friends know. I get along well with anybody; I won’t judge people for their race, beliefs, personality, religion, and all. It doesn’t exist here when I befriend them 😊. I have this weird sense of humor that can turn dark and morbid without noticing… 😅😅 I am like a child at Christmas when it comes to new art supplies, baking, and cooking new recipes; I love sharing it with my family and friends. I can compare my strength to a guy and I can carry heavy things without a problem😅… I love to play the guitar and I used to play the piano when I was younger and I missed playing it. I’m extremely rusty after not practicing for 7 years now😥. I can still read music notes, and it will take longer for me to navigate the piano if I play it. I mostly draw and paint right now tho…

I’m not a fan of wearing girly clothes, and I would rather stick to wearing good ol’ shirts, polo (long/short sleeves), pants, and hoodies style. I avoid drinking alcohol because I easily get tipsy; I’d turn into a loud drunk after a few sips. My friends would often keep me away from who knows what they’re reading and watching stuff… Told me that they don’t want me to taint my innocent eyes and soul or something like that…I never cuss even if I’m used to hearing my classmates swear like a sailor. The first time my friends hear me accidentally swear, they look at me in horror and demanded me to know where I got that word🤣🤣

I don’t like loud and crowded places, I would feel dizzy and suffocated if I stayed there for too long. There will be times on where I’m nowhere to be found since I would look for an isolated place somewhere around the corner for me to hide whenever I want to draw or paint. I am not really confident of my skills in drawing; I have a bad habit of hiding those from my family *which annoys them*. I have another bad habit of being stubborn whenever I got sick, and I wouldn’t even let anyone know I am unwell because I do not want anyone to worry about me. But when someone noticed, I would admit that I am sick. *I would go to school even when sick so I can finish my school works because, whenever I miss a class, there will always be some of them who would deliberately not tell me that I missed something in class so…i learned the hard way.😅* …

I easily get startled by sudden noises if I let my guard down: objects making a loud sound when they drop. I don’t know how to deal with physical affections and would probably get stiff and flustered. I’m not used to guys hugging me cuz would go stiff whenever a guy hugs me *I love hugs and all but… I’m not used to being hugged by guys… 🙁* I’m a bit of a disaster-prone whenever I’m outside, and would accidentally hit my head on lower tree branches and lower places, sometimes I would accidentally sprain my ankle on the uneven ground *if someone made me wear heels especially if it’s stilettos*. 😅😅😅

Yay: I love my coffee with a ridiculous amount of milk and with less sugar; baking, cooking, sweets, drawing, painting, digital art, music, cats, dogs, pokemon, Manga, anime.

Nay: I despise certain types of vegetables that are bitter and slimy. My face would shrivel up seeing those kinds of vegetables. Animal cruelty is a big no-no for me; I normally don’t get angry, and I forgive people within a blink of an eye *that annoys my family a lot😅* but, I will make an exception for that.

I can control my own anger, that no one can tell I am fuming.

If it’s ok with you…😅😅😅 Took me a long time to figure out how to send a more detailed one. 😂😂 I think that’s enough spilling tmi about myself… Whoopsie…😅😅 🦊🐱🦊🐱

Hi hi love! ❤🌻Thank you so much for the request! I had so much fun writing this up for ya and i hope you enjoy it dear! ❤🦊Also i hope you are keeping safe and well and have a super good day!🐇❤ Also sooooorrrry for taking 2 billion years with this! hehe so without further ado........... @xarexraven

So I match you with…………… Theo

The first time you met everyone, you were so quiet and reserved hiding behind Comte. They took one look at you and instantly thought, “oooh great another male guest.” You were wearing a hoodie and jeans and your hair tie keeping your hair in a ponytail, had just snapped as you walked through the door. Comte gave you a gentle push to introduce yourself, and one look at your intimidating face, had the entire household believing that they had another tsundere in their midst.

During dinner, you had hardly noticed that they all thought you were a boy. The residents all started retiring to their rooms after dessert, when Sebastian handed you a final cup of coffee, “Here you are sir.” Your eyes widened, and you started up at Sebastian in confusion, too shy to correct him/ That is when Comte who was still sitting beside you gave your head a gentle pat, “Sebastian it is quite rude to mistake our precious guest for a boy, especially one who is beautiful.” Both you and Sebastian were left blushing at the comment, that’s when Vincent, who was the only other resident still at the table, spoke up. “I have to agree with Comte, it is not nice to call someone so pretty, a boy.” The resident angel beamed up at you, while Sebastian apologised profusely, and through it all, the only thing you could think was, “man, this is awkward.”

The next morning after Comte explained the whole, everyone in this mansion is a vampire thing, you wandered around the mansion aimlessly. Well, that is until Napoleon came across you and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dining room, where a feast of sugary goodness laid wait. He told you that he had made way too many pancakes and that they needed help finishing them. No one in the mansion had seen you smile yet, but at the sight of the giant stack of sugary pancakes, you couldn’t help but beam. Vincent had spotted you and flagged you over to sit next to him. “Oi knaap, don’t go hog all the pancakes, save some of the rest of us will you,” Theo loudly exclaimed as you loaded up your plate to a stack of pancakes almost as high and his. At the sound of Theo calling you a boy, Vincent narrowed his eyes at Theo and started scolding his younger brother for being so rude. Theo stared at you in disbelief but with your hair now in a pony tail he simply shrugged and gave you a new nickname “Hondjie”. With the misunderstanding finally cleared up once and for all, you made quick work of polishing off the stack of pancakes with the three men.

After lunch Vincent gave Theo a detailed list of art supplies that he needed, and at the mention of art supplies your ears perked up. Your eyes gleamed in excitement, and your cold, aloof exterior changed to one of an excited child on Christmas morning. Your cheeks were starting to hurt, that had been a record of two smiles in one day. Although even though your smiling felt weird to you, to the three me it was the most beautiful sight. Theo took notice of your enthusiasm and in his typical indifferent voice, asked if you wanted to come along for the ride. You without a second thought nodded, you basically radiated excitement as you went upstairs to put on some shoes and get a jacket. You met Theo out in the foyer, and soon the two of you made your way to the art supply store.

Comte had told you that you were free to break the bank and buy anything and everything your heart desired, on the condition that he would be able to see your first piece of art created with the new supplies.

You were so excited at the thought of new art supplies and being able to continue your passion for art, even though you were stuck in the past, that you let your guard down a little with Theo. He asked you in his usual blunt way, why you were dressed like a boy and not wearing skirts and dresses like other women. You told him that you were most comfortable wearing pants and hoodies. The way your eyes were beaming, low key reminded him of his precious brother, and he found himself low key drawn to your pure, innocent energy.

The two of you spent hours and hours picking out the perfect supplies, you were low key shook at Theo’s knowledge about art and supplies. He actually helped you pick out the best supplies for your personal drawing and painting style. After spending hours in the art shop. The two of you made your way to the waiting carriage, when Theo spotted an ice cream store, his eyes lit up at the thought of sweets. When you saw how excited he was, you suggested that the two of you investigate the shop before heading back.

For the first time in Theo van Gogh whole existence, a woman had paid for him. He was sitting across from you in the ice cream parlour while you were happily eating away at your sugary treat, still trying to process it all. You had paid as a token of thanks for him helping you pick out the best art supplies. What shocked him even more was during argument about the bill you legit gave him a deadpan look and bluntly said that you were ganna treat him no matter what. After that comment you legit left him blushing and speechless, you truly were a strange woman.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments when you finally decided to break the ice. You curiously asked why it was that he knew so much about art, and that’s when he revealed that he was an art dealer. And so the rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about art, paintings, drawings and your mutual passion and appreciation for the trade. To say Theo was pleasantly surprised by you would be an understatement, his first impression of you was now so laughable compared to the person sitting before him. The first time he saw you, he thought you an aloof, little boy who seemed to judge him down to the very depths of his soul. Yet as he got to know you, he had come to realise that there was much more to you.

In the weeks to follow you seemed to surprise Theo more and more. The first thing that had this boy sister shook was your inhuman strength. One day as you were helping Isaac sorts out the library. The two of you had managed to fill up 2 huge boxes of junk and clutter that could be stored in the mansions attic. Isaac lifted one of the boxes and determined that it was too heavy for the both of you, so he went to call Theo or Leo who would have an easier job with doing the heavy lifting. As Theo rounded to the corner to help move the boxes, he almost rammed straight into you. “Oi hondjie, you are going to hurt yourself let me take…” As he took the box from your hands, his face started going red, and a vein in his neck started popping out. The box you had been carrying was obviously almost too heavy for him to carry, he turned around swiftly and started walking up the attic stairs. It took you no time to catch up to him carrying another heavy box of your own. At this point you could see a bead of sweat roll down his face. Theo was determined to carry this box up, there was no way he was going to be shown up by a girl, especially one that he liked. He finally made it to the top of the attic and place the box down with a huff, you had to laugh at the small blush that was still on his cheeks.

Just then out of the corner of your eye, an old piano caught your attention. Theo eyed you curiously still recovering from the blow to his ego, as you sat down on the dusty piano chair and blew the dust of the piano keys. Your fingers moved to their own accord, gliding across the keys to play a familiar song from muscle memory. Theo sat down next to you and closed his eyes to absorb the beautiful melody. As the last note echoed through the attic, Theo opened his eyes, and sapphire eyes glared down into the depths of your soul. He had honestly never in his life felt more drawn to anyone, before he could say anything your stomach gave a loud growl. It was now your turn to blush and look away in embarrassment. Theo then leads you downstairs, where he whipped you up some stroopwafels.

You tied the apron around your waist and helped Theo prepare the sugary dessert. You were so excited and happy, you loved baking and learning/exchanging new recipes. Once the two of you were done making the sweet snack, you sat down and munched on the Stroop waffles and coffee. The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about your mutual hate for bitter slimy vegetables and love for dogs as you ate the sugary snack and sipped on coffee. This actually started a tradition between the two of you, where once in a while the two of you would exchange recipes and cook your favourite dishes together.

One day as Theo joined Comte in his room for some tea, he saw a beautiful painting hanging behind Comte, it was just filled with so much emotion. “Hey, Comte, did Vincent paint that one, I haven’t seen it before.” Comte gleamed in delight and told him that you were the artist responsible for the masterpiece and that you had given it to him as a thank you gift for the art supplies. Theo was shook, he knew you loved art but to have created such a masterpiece. He stomped his way to your room and knock on your door. He could hear shuffling from the other side, he swung the door open and spotted you throwing a heap full of tissues in the dustbin and hiding the trashcan behind you. All it took was one look at your red nose, pale face and tired eyes to know that you were clearly sick. You tried to play it off and make your way past Theo to help Sebastian with lunch service, when Theo picked you up and plonked you down on your bed. The second your head hit the pillow, your tired eyes closed and you lost consciousness. You woke a few hours later to Theo sitting by your side gently stroking your hair while placing a cold washcloth on your forehead every now and then. You stubbornly tried to convince him that you weren’t sick. Theo narrowed his eyes at you and in a soft, gentle tone said, “Hondjie can you just stop being stubborn for one minute and let me take care of you.” Theo had nursed you back to full health and you got to see a new side of Theo that you had never seen before, his sweet kind gentle side. It was actually during this time when Theo had confessed his undying love for you.

Theo love love loved your art and would insist you show him your masterpieces once you are done with them. He knew your weren't confident in your skills and would usually hide your drawings so he did what any reasonable person would do. He tickled you until you gave up the hiding spot so he could see your creation.

He also knows you don’t like crowded places or loud noises, so he actually cleared up a room for you to use as your own art room to work in peace, where no one was allowed to disturb you.

He knew you would get dizzy and feel suffocated whenever the two of you would walk through a busy crowd in the markets. So now every time the two of you cuties go out, he was sure to plan your route using back roads to avoid unnecessary crowds or he would bring King along for a walk with you. Even though King is a sweet, friendly golden retriever, he has come to love you and will do whatever it takes to protect the new member of his pack. Even if that means angry staring down people so they can part like the red sea before you and Theo.

Theo absolutely loves you to the moon and back. He loves your sweet innocent mind and will always cover your ears and glare daggers at Arthur whenever he is telling stories of previous nights conquests as he “doesn’t want Arthur to taint your innocent mind and soul.”

He absolutely loves to finally have someone around who gets his dark, morbid sense of humour and who can equally match his weird jokes. Often when the two of you are together, you would be quick-firing the weirdest jokes at each other, while being in stitches laughing at each other.

Theo also loves how you have similar beliefs as him in not judging people. It was due to this that he was completely able to open up about his past with you. You helped him to heal and grow from his past traumas. You helped catch him many a time before falling in the abyss, dragging him out back into the light.

Both of you were pretty awkward when it came to physical affection at the beginning of your relationship. However, after many, a stiff, awkward hug followed by a fit of laughter from how awkward the two of you were, eventually the two of you started to get more comfortable around each other.

Now when Theo cuddles you, as you draw him as a manga character, the two of you chuckle at the memory of how stiff and awkward it was the first time the two of you had even held hands. Theo will 100% always insist on holding your hand whenever the two of you go outside as he knows just how accident-prone you are when it comes to nature.

Ultimately Theo loves to spend quiet evenings with you snuggled up in his arms as the two of you exchange stories of each other days. He loves to read all your little manga’s you manage to create for him. Although he will never admit it, he always gets super excited when you tell him about an anime you watched or show him your newest manga drawing. He will shower you with endless amounts of hugs and cuddles from the moment you go to bed till the moment you wake up. And every morning without fail Theo will greet you with a freshly bred cup of milky coffee and a kiss.

Other potential matches…………… Vincent

I hope you enjoyed this dear and i hope you have the best day! 🦊🌻❤

#matchups #ikesen matchup #match ups #ikevamp matchup #ikevamp match up #theo ikevamp #ikevamp theodorus #Theodorus van Gogh #ikemen vampire theodorus #submission

20 notes · View notes

fallinnflower · 5 years

Text

love lessons

lou x reader (fluff, college!au, tiny tiny bit of angst)

a/n: this was requested and got way out of hand. thanks to @dearbeommie for keeping me sane. uwu.

You’re not a bad student. On the contrary, you’ve always done very well in your classes — unless it comes to learning new languages.

You’ve tried it all. Journals, YouTube tutorials, hardcore studying. You just can’t seem to grasp a new language well enough to actually speak it to anyone, and that’s what’s starting to become an issue. Enough of an issue that you’re now sitting awkwardly across from your Korean professor in their office, with her regarding you with just enough pity to make you squirm. You don’t want her to pity you, you want her to like you and be impressed by you, because she’s one of your coolest professors on campus.

“So, Y/N,” she starts, and you attempt to straighten your posture as you look up to meet her gaze. “Have you ever considered a tutor?” Your throat suddenly feels dry. Tutoring? Tutors might be helpful, but that means money you can’t really afford to spend—

“We have a Korean student who’s studying here for the semester. I’m his advisor for that time, and he’s also working with me as an assistant as part of a work award with his university. I think he’d be a good resource for you.”

There’s a pause, and your professor leans back in her seat and chuckles,

“It’s free, since he works through the school. Would you like his email address?” You feel some of the tension leave your body, like helium from a week-old balloon.

“Yes, please,” you respond, smiling.

That evening, before you settle heavily into studying, you send an email to the address you’d been given with a little explanation and your usual schedule.

You have a response by the time your head hits the pillow: Saturday, 11am, in the library. You’re oddly nervous.

Two days later, on Saturday, you realize why you’re so nervous: first, you have no idea what this guy looks like; second, you’re about to embarrass yourself in front of someone your age. You glance around the library, looking for anyone sitting alone with a familiar textbook—

“Y/N L/N?” A deep voice says from behind you, sending a slight shiver down your spine. You turn, nose almost brushing against the chest of this person; hastily, you tilt your chin up and clear your throat.

“Kim Hosung?” The boy’s lip twitches into a smile for a moment, and you can’t help but find him both extremely attractive and horribly intimidating — lucky for you, the slight roundness of his cheeks and somewhat large ears help to soften his features, although you’re still extremely nervous when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Just call me Lou,” he replies, not unkindly, “Should we find a place to sit?” You nod curtly, following him to a booth. Despite the length of his stride, he seems to be conscientious of your own walking pace. You take a moment to catch your breath and take him in while he’s unable to see your face.

First and foremost, he’s tall — tall and slender, except for his broad shoulders, with a slightly long but round face. His ears, like you noticed before, are a little big but covered partly by his dark, fluffily styled hair, but now you also notice the small black studs in them.

To put it simply, he’s gorgeous and cute somehow, which is totally unfair. You suddenly wish you’d put more effort into your appearance. Lou chooses a booth in the back corner, and you take a seat across from him and immediately start digging all your materials out of your backpack.

“So, Y/N,” Lou says, and you hate how much you like the sound of your name in his voice. “What is it you need help with, exactly?” You sigh, resting your chin in your palm and looking at him pitifully.

“Everything,” you reply, and Lou chuckles and raises an eyebrow. “I can read Hangul pretty well, but I’m terrible when it comes to speaking or constructing more complex sentences. I just get choked up and forget everything.” You pick up and pen and fiddle with it, avoiding his gaze.

“That would explain why Professor Lee mentioned your comprehension being good,” he muses, and you nod.

“I just want to be able to communicate without looking like an idiot.” You glance up at him through your lashes and find him smiling at you, one side of his mouth lifted higher than the other.

“Well, Y/N,” he starts, and you look up. Lou is full-on smiling now, “You’ve come to the right person.” You return his smile, albeit more shyly, as he begins to take out his own study materials.

You have a feeling this might just work.

Lou is an incredible tutor.

Not only is his Korean understandably good, but his English is impeccable. You’ve been tempted on more than one occasion to ask about it, but after only a couple study sessions you aren’t sure you qualify as anything more than an acquaintance he smiles at in passing. It startles you how your curiosity keeps growing the longer you know him — every time you have a session, you clam up about anything but your class and assignments.

One day, after Professor Lee had handed back your first ‘A’ assignment in her class, you drop by the cafe before your study session and make the decision to order two iced americanos. You have no clue how Lou likes his coffee, so you stuff a couple sugar packets in your backpack and make your way to the library.

One advantage to Lou: he’s tall and extremely easy to spot in a crowd, even sitting down. There’s a smile growing on your face as you approach him, and with his earbuds in he noticed the coffee you slide into his line of sight before he notices you.

Lou smiles crookedly, an eyebrow raised, and you take a sip of your coffee.

“What?” You ask, feigning innocence. He chuckles.

“What’s this for?” You can feel yourself beaming.

“Just think of it as a token of my gratitude,” you reply, shrugging and fiddling with your straw. “I got an A on Lee’s assignment.”

“Ah,” he says, leaning back. He crosses his arms and seems almost smug, “So that’s why you’re in a good mood.”

“I’m always in a good mood!” You huff, although you know that’s most definitely not true — really, you just like being playful around Lou. It almost makes it feel like you’re friends, and you definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that. Or more.

“Sure,” he chuckles, and you roll your eyes. Lou starts to take out his materials, and you falter for a moment as you do the same. Maybe it’s because you’re in a good mood, or maybe you’re riding the high of this banger you two have, but you’re just itching to ask him—

“Hey, Lou,” you start. “Can I ask you something?” He glances up, looking confused, but nods at you.

“How'd you get so good at English?” You ask, and then, immediately, begin backpedaling. You cover your face with your hands. “Sorry, that sounds kind of offensive, doesn’t it? I just — your grammar might be even better than mine and I know English is a hard language— that doesn’t sound any better— just, just forget—“

You’re interrupted by Lou’s good-natured chuckling once again, and peek out from between your fingers to assess the situation.

“I’ll take the compliment,” he says. “My family and I lived in Atlanta when I was little, if that helps clear it up.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage to say, still embarrassed by your question and subsequent overreaction. Lou just smirks at you and takes a sip of his americano before getting down to business.

“So, looks like you’ll be working with chapter 5 this week...”

You let your eyes linger on him for a moment too long before flipping to the correct page in your book. You decide you’re going to make Lou your friend by the end of this semester.

Making Lou your friend is actually not as hard as you thought it would be, especially considering he’s as relaxed as he is. He’s also easy to spot on campus, so all it takes on your part is to walk a little faster across the quad between classes and soon you’re seeing him on almost a daily basis. Although you don’t have classes together, your path converges more with Lou’s, your schedules beginning to sync. He’ll sometimes wait around for you when he knows you two can walk together, and the two of you take turns paying for coffee when you go to the cafe together.

The only downside to making Lou your friend is that he becomes significantly more charming once you get past his somewhat aloof, intimidating exterior. Not that he had ever seemed particularly cold to you, more that he just seemed unapproachably cool for someone like you.

Which isn’t true. He’s a dork, in probably the purest possible sense. He just happens to be a handsome dork.

The next week at tutoring, you can feel yourself getting nervous. It’s the last session you have before your midterm, which is going to seriously affect your grade; Lou knows this, and he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned, meanwhile you can’t stop chewing on you straw just to have something to do. Your distress must be extremely palpable however, because Lou sighs and pokes your forehead so that your face moves away from your straw. He keeps the pad of his index finger pressed gently against your skin as his dark eyes meet yours.

“Alright, Y/N, you’re clearly having trouble focusing,” he starts, and you blush. “So I’m going to strike a deal with you. If you get above a B- on this midterm, I’ll take you out for Korean barbecue, okay?”

Well, you think, who are you to say no to free Korean barbecue with your very attractive tutor-turned-friend? You find yourself grinning at his offer.

“Deal!” You chirp, and Lou chuckles as he lets his hand fall away from your face.

“Time to get studying then, Y/N.”

And, well, who are you to say no to that, either?

You waltz into your next study session with Lou feeling as though you’re walking on air. He smiles at the bright look on your face, gazing up at you expectantly as you approach the table where he’s seated.

“Guess who got an A,” you sing, plopping leaning over the table. Lou laughs and, surprisingly, stands up.

“Well done.” You give him a questioning look as he slips his backpack on his back, and for the first time you realize he’s had no study materials out all this time.

“What?” He asks, laughing. “It’s time to eat.” You cock your head to the side as you slowly follow him out.

“But... but what about our session?” You ask, and he turns back to look at you with an almost devilish smile.

“Consider today a real-world test, Y/N. You’re gonna order our food.” You pout and let out a huff, which leads him to ruffle your hair as you pass by him through the doorway.

“Fine.”

The two of you spend the bus ride in relative silence, except for when you nervously ask Lou questions about ordering food and proper etiquette. He answers all your questions good-naturedly, patting your shoulder to reassure you you’ll be fine. He leaves his arm around you, but you hardly even notice because you’re too busy rehearsing the basics of how to order food politely. It feels like grade school all over again, like you’re rereading your assigned passage before your turn comes up so you don’t stutter.

When you get off the bus, it’s colder than you thought it would be. The sun has already begun setting and you hadn’t expected an outing tonight, though you feel a little foolish for not thinking of it. You’re interrupted in the midst of scolding yourself by Lou tapping your shoulder, and when you turn you nearly get hit in the face with the hoodie he’s been wearing over an unbuttoned flannel and a t-shirt.

“Thanks,” you murmur, feeling a little embarrassed as you let him help you into his hoodie. He chuckles at the way the sleeves fall past your fingers, and you swing your arms back and forth slightly to showcase it even more, joining him in laughing. Eventually, Lou takes the initiative to head to the restaurant, and the nervousness you had all but forgotten comes back with a vengeance as the establishment comes into sight. Probably sensing your nerves, Lou greets the hostess for both of you; you hear him say his own name, and once you’re both seated you look curiously at him.

“Did you make a reservation?” You swear you see the tips of his ears turn red, even as he shrugs nonchalantly.

“I knew you’d do well. Besides, once I mentioned barbecue I decided I had to get some either way.” As always, he acts cool, but you feel yourself grinning at his little act of kindness. You have no doubt he would have brought you regardless of how you did, but it’s nice to know he had faith in you.

After a few minutes of perusing the menu, you test your pronunciation on Lou.

“Bul-go-gi,” he says, slowly, and you repeat it after him in the same manner. “Bulgogi.”

“Bulgogi,” you say, confidently. He smiles at your improved pronunciation.

“And tteok-bokki,” he continues, slowly once again. You repeat carefully, and then take a slow breath in and out to prepare for the waitress coming over. Evidently, you do well enough ordering that the waitress doesn’t look confused or disgusted by your pronunciation, and so you take a much-needed sip of water with a smile on your face. You’re interrupted by Lou’s gentle laughter, and you fix him with a glare.

“What?” You ask, barely pulling away from your drink. His eyes seem to sparkle when he looks at you and shrugs.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” he says, like he’s talking about the weather, and you feel your heart skip a beat in your chest. How can he say that so casually?

“Thanks,” you mutter, taking another sip of your water in an attempt to cool yourself down.

Dinner passes without a hitch after that, except for the few times Lou steals food from your plate and it becomes something of a competition as to who can more stealthily snag a bite.

By the time the two of you leave, hours have passed and you feel fit to burst — and you just might, if Lou keeps telling you stories about the guys he lives with back in South Korea. On the bus, he shows you one video of his roommate, Ayno, walking on all fours in a crowded airport with slides on his hands. You attempt to stifle your laughter in the sleeves of Lou’s oversized sweater, but end up snorting instead. You bury your face in his shoulder as you continue to laugh, attempting to hide your embarrassment.

The bus hits a bump in the road, and Lou’s arm slips around you so you don’t bounce off the seat. You’re too busy laughing to really notice.

Lou walks you back to your dorm’s entrance, where you turn and flash him a playful grin.

“So, how’d I do on my test?” You ask, and Lou laughs, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Good.” You bite down on your lower lip, but can’t keep yourself from beaming.

“Thanks, Lou,” you say, looking up at him earnestly. The stars frame him beautifully, and you wonder if he even has a bad angle with the way you have to look up at him. “For everything. The tutoring, the food... all of it. I’m glad Lee sent me to you.” You nudge him playfully with your elbow as you say it, and he lets out a laugh that sounds more breathy than usual.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

The way he smiles down at you makes you feel flustered, and so you look down at the ground for a moment before wishing him a goodnight. Lou steps away as you reach into your bag for your ID, but he calls to you just as you get the door open. You turn to find him smiling broadly at you, just a little ways down the sidewalk.

“Goodnight!” You feel a goofy grin break across your face and can’t help but laugh.

“Goodnight, Lou!” You call back, and with one last beaming grin and wave he turns away and starts walking back to his dorm.

It isn’t until you get inside and go to hide your burning cheeks that you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. And you couldn’t be happier.

Monday rolls around, and you’re shocked to find Lou outside your dorm before your first class, a coffee carrier with two americanos in one hand and his phone in the other. He has his earbuds in, and you hear him rapping under his breath as you approach. The sound of his voice, the perfect rhythm, brings a smile to your face as you quietly make your way towards him. You tap him on the shoulder, biting your lip. He looks up, his eyes widening before his expression becomes a grin.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you reply, giving him a cheeky grin. “I didn’t know you could rap.” He laughs and promptly puts his earbuds away, passing you a coffee.

“Just a hobby,” he replies, tossing the coffee carrier away. “Ready for your quiz today?” You raise an eyebrow.

“How do you know about my quiz?”

“Professor Lee keeps me up to date,” he says.

“Oh.” You feel slightly embarrassed by that, but shrug it off as you take a sip of your coffee. “Well, I feel as ready as I’ll ever be.” Lou laughs at your response tossing an arm around your shoulders as the both of you approach the building your Korean class is held in. He tugs you towards him, pulling you into a gentle hug by the doors.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his low voice rumbling close to your ear. “You’ll do well. You have me as your tutor, after all.” You scoff and push him away, reaching up to mess up his hair.

“So humble,” you say waving him off. Before he strays too far, you raise your voice, “Thanks for the coffee!” He gives you a thumbs up in response before disappearing into the crowd of students heading to class, and you can’t help but smile as you clutch the coffee a little closer to your chest.

You refuse to say it, but you know that the espresso isn’t the reason your heart is pounding as you enter the building.

When you receive yet another ‘A’ on your Korean assignment, you feel like you’re walking on air. And it’s with that confidence boost that you find yourself suggesting to Lou that the two of you go ‘study’ at a bubble tea shop a short bus ride from campus. Lou, for as serious as he seemed when you first met him, has absolutely no problem with your idea and follows you gladly to the bus stop.

The bus ride itself is filled with relatively mindless chatter from the both of you, but neither of you seem to mind. Your eyes keep drifting out the window, to the clear blue sky and the sunlight winking through the trees.

“I can’t believe it’s almost summer,” you remark, and Lou hums in agreement.

“Yeah. The semester’s almost over.” You turn back to him.

“Are you excited to go back to Korea?” His expression clouds for a moment, but soon he’s back to his normal, half-smiling self. He lets out a short laugh and shrugs his shoulders.

“Excited is one word for it.” You think back to what he’s told you about his group of friends and their overly-dramatic send-off for him, and snicker, nudging him with your elbow.

“Come on, this is our stop.” You think nothing of it as you grab his wrist to get him out of his seat, and you miss the redness of his ears when you do so.

Once inside the shop, the two of you bicker about the superior bubble tea flavor and you rush to pay before he can. As you wait for your drinks, your phone lights up on the table with a new message from one of your group chats.

party Saturday night @ Kina’s house. plus ones encouraged ;)

When Lou returns to the table, two cups in his hands, you glance up at him thoughtfully.

“Hey, Lou,” you start, and he raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip of his drink. “What do you say to going to a party with me on Saturday?” He leans back in his seat with a smile.

“I’m in.” Your heart stutters in your chest for a beat, but you push the thought of it away, returning his grin as you sip on your own drink.

You’re starting to think inviting Lou along was a bad idea, because it’s been over an hour and you’re still nursing your first drink. Every spare second you’ve had, you’ve been swarmed by people wanting to be introduced to the tall boy at your side. While he doesn’t seem to notice all the attempts to flirt with him, all the obvious heart eyes people are flashing in his direction, you definitely do, and you’re getting more annoyed by the minute. As the most recent group of people wanders away, their eyes lingering on Lou, you can’t help but sigh.

“I think you’re the most popular guy here now,” you joke, taking a long sip of your drink. Lou laughs at that and casually slings an arm around your shoulders.

“Jealous?” He teases, and you shrug him off with a roll of your eyes. You open your mouth to make some witty retort, but are interrupted by someone calling out both of your names.

“Come play Truth or Dare with us!” Kina exclaims, waving you over. You glance at Lou to gauge his reaction, but he only shrugs with that mysterious half-grin on his face, tugging you towards the living room. Kina has pushed most of the furniture to the edges of the room, and the circle of players sitting on the floor expands slightly to make room for you and Lou to sit down. You watch as Kina chugs down half a bottle of beer before setting the bottle down in the center of the circle and giving it a spin.

The game is, for the most part, uneventful. Kina dares a guy to take his shirt off, said guy obliges (quite happily, you might note, which seems counterintuitive for the game) and then gets one of his buddies to reveal their most embarrassing drunken escapade. Said story actually gets you to set your own drink aside, suddenly not in the mood for alcohol any longer. The spin lands on a girl you think you had some class with freshman year, and after she completes her dare (do a keg stand, which she nails and is actually pretty impressive and terrifying) the bottle suddenly lands on Lou. There’s a glimmer in the girl’s eyes as she stares him down, and you realize that she’s one of many people you introduced Lou to tonight.

“Truth or dare,” she asks, smirking. You feel as though your stomach is twisting into knots, and you don’t know why. Lou, cool as ever, quickly responds:

“Dare.” Her grin stretches wider and you feel extremely uncomfortable, wondering if this night is going to have to end with you apologizing to Lou for ruining his semester abroad because of some weird, drunk girl.

“Okay, Lou,” she says, almost purring, “I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in this room. Right now.” You glance at him for a moment before looking back around the circle. Most people seem to be eagerly awaiting his next move, but the tightness you felt in your stomach has now spread to your chest. You’re curious yourself, to be honest, but you also can’t help but feel uncomfortable on his behalf. While you’re sitting, debating whether you should stop this game for the sake of the boy beside you or just let it run its course, Lou has already made his decision. You hear his jeans scuff against the carpet and you turn your head to face him, brows furrowed in concern.

And yet, Lou doesn’t look even a fraction as upset as you had worried he would be, although he does look nervous. You open your mouth to ask him if he’s sure he’s okay with this, but then you realize something truly startling.

Lou isn’t standing up, not even trying to. Instead, he’s turned his body to face yours and is slowly leaning closer. You tense up, confused, your heart skidding to a stop for a moment as his dark eyes lock with yours. With a strange rush of blood to your head you realize he’s being completely serious as he closes the distance between the two of you—

He presses a kiss to your forehead, then leans back and resumes his former position, reaching out to spin the bottle. You can feel your face burning, and can’t hear anything but your runaway heartbeat in your ears. You swallow thickly, unable to take your eyes off him, and yet all he offers you after he gives someone a very simple dare is a glance and another enigmatic smile, placing his hand over yours as the game continues to unfold.

The rest of the night passes in a bit of a blur, but you’re suddenly very aware of Lou’s hands on you; his arm around your shoulders, the back of his hand brushing your own, even just his broad chest behind your back. It’s more like you’re hyper-aware of him and the fact that he’s taking every possible opportunity to touch you, even if it’s just for a moment. By the time you’re about to leave the party, the house feels far too hot and crowded, and you think you’ve got your cardio in for the month; the second your feet hit the pavement, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Lou lets out a gentle laugh from beside you and, unbidden, drapes his hoodie across your shoulders. You glance up at him, biting the inside of your cheek as you regard him; under the yellow streetlights his skin and hair look unbelievably soft, and his eyes seem to sparkle just for you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, unable to raise your voice above a whisper. He doesn’t say a word in response, but the back of his hand brushes yours again and you feel your heart rate spike once more. You come to a halt in the middle of the quiet sidewalk, and Lou stops just a few steps ahead of you, looking back curiously. You pull his jacket tighter around you even though you don’t feel cold and clear your throat, which suddenly feels inexplicably dry.

“About earlier,” you start, lamely. “Did you mean it?” Lou blinks at you, his expression unreadable.

“Why do you ask?” You feel your face heating up again even as you shrug, attempting to be nonchalant.

“Well, I mean— it was a forehead kiss— and you didn’t really know anyone else, so I wasn’t sure…” At some point during your poorly constructed sentence, your gaze had drifted down to the pavement in some attempt to hide your embarrassment. You hear Lou move, and suddenly you can see his shoes almost toe-to-toe with yours. Your breath catches when he gently tilts your chin up to look at him, his eyes bright and mirthful.

“I wasn’t just going to kiss you without permission in a room full of people,” he says, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Why? Did you want me to?” Although his tone is playful, you see that same earnestness in his gaze that you had during the game, and it feels as though the world falls still. Without meaning to, your gaze flicks down to his lips for a moment, and you have a sudden, strange burst of confidence when you look back into his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” you reply. Lou laughs at that and then leans in, closing the gap between the two of you once more and pressing his lips to yours.

And the world starts to turn again.

Lou doesn’t really ask you to be his girlfriend because he doesn’t have to; the two of you just kind of slip into a romantic relationship, which really just means adding more physical contact to your usual conversations and maybe some heart emojis here and there. Being Lou’s girlfriend means constantly getting treated to coffee and being given the best hugs — means being allowed to listen to songs off is mixtape before they get officially posted — means getting to play with his hair when he takes a nap with his head on your lap, or you watch a drama together in what Lou claims is an attempt to better your Korean.

It means your heart fluttering at even the smallest gestures, and it means feeling heartbroken when Professor Lee reminds all of you that your final is in one week.

You haven’t really talked to Lou about his going back to Korea since you asked him about it on the bus that day, and it’s partly because you don’t know what you want him to do about it. On the one hand, you’ve never been in a long distance relationship that’s that long distance, but on the other you’ve never had a relationship that feels as seamless and right as the one you have with Lou. You keep telling yourself you both need to focus on finals, that you can’t put the pressure on him right now, but you know the truth of the matter is that you’re too scared to face the reality of the situation just then.

Your tutoring sessions have moved out of the library and into Lou’s dorm room, because his roommate is almost never around. According to Lou, he spends most of his time with his girlfriend in her apartment, so Lou has only seen him a few times. It’s reading day for your school, and you’ve decided to take over Lou’s room as he helps you prep for your Korean final the next day.

“When’s your last final again?” He asks, nonchalantly, shuffling your index cards.

“Thursday,” you reply, without thinking for a moment of what this conversation could turn into, too focused on the task at hand.

“I leave Wednesday,” Lou says, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach, weighing you down. “I’m taking an Uber from the school at 2. We should have lunch together.” Your throat feels inexplicably dry, but you manage to nod your head. Lou smiles at you, then hold up the first flashcard. You try not to think about it.

If someone were to ask you which superpower you wish you had, it would be to freeze time, because you really don’t want Lou to leave. You close your eyes, leaning your head against his shoulder. A light breeze passes over both of you as you sit on the bench waiting for his Uber, and Lou gently runs his fingers through your hair.

He doesn’t seem upset, but you think maybe it’s for your sake. You didn’t expect to feel so emotional about all of this, considering you haven’t even been together that long, but the bond you have with Lou feels inexplicably strong. He had told you at lunch he wanted to continue this if you did, and you burst into tears in the middle of taking a bite of your pizza — needless to say, it’s been a long day.

“Hey,” he says, softly. You open your eyes to look up at him. “Don’t be too sad, okay? I promise we won’t be apart for long.” You don’t know how he can promise that, but you’re left with no choice but to trust him as his Uber pulls up to the curb.

The driver is blessedly patient with the both of you as you cry into Lou’s arms for the last time, apologizing for all your blubbering while he presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. Eventually, you calm down enough to kiss him properly, then press your forehead to his.

“Lou?” You prod, gently. He hums. “I love you.” For the first time, you think you hear his voice crack,

“I love you, too.”

As the Uber pulls away, you receive an AirDrop request to an unlisted YouTube video on Lou’s channel. The title of the track makes you cry even more.

사랑해.

After listening to Lou’s unreleased song for you for days on end, you make a decision. You would call it rash if it hadn’t taken you so long to translate the message to send over Facebook, but it certainly feels crazy fast approaching when you buy your plane tickets after receiving a one-word response from Mrs. Kim: “드디어!”

You fall asleep on the plane listening to Lou’s voice through your earbuds, and wake up more excited than ever to land. Mrs.Kim has been active on Facebook since you woke up, and has been excitedly messaging you updates about Lou. You can’t help but laugh when she tells you he’s been moping about having to go pick up her mystery friend from the airport — apparently your boyfriend thinks he’s being treated more like a pack mule than a son. After some light banter, she tells you where they’ll be waiting for you as your plane begins its initial descent.

Deplaning takes forever and the airport is a nightmare to navigate but it’s all so worth it when you see the look on your boyfriend’s face when he spots you.

“Y/N?” Lou asks, shocked, as you make your way towards him. You feel yourself tearing up, but in the best possible way.

“Surprise!” You reply, trying to keep your voice from cracking. Lou pulls you into his arms, and he laughs gently as he holds you close; you swear you hear a tremble in it and wonder if he’s feeling as emotional as you are. His heart seems to be beating just as fast, anyways.

“How? My mom told me we were picking up her friend…”

“Well, you taught me enough Korean that I managed to get an A in class and send a passable message to your mom on Facebook…” You pull back to look into his eyes, your arms still looped around his neck. “So, here I am! All yours for a month.” Lou smiles and his eyes turn to crescents. He shakes his head in disbelief before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips, chuckling softly when he pulls away to press his forehead to yours.

“What?” You ask, running a thumb along his cheekbone. He gently shakes his head.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see you again for at least a year… I’ve been thinking about you nonstop, and now here you are.” You open your mouth to reply, but a sudden call of your name interrupts you. You peer around Lou to see his mother approaching, a wide smile split across her face and a carrier of iced coffees in her hands. She shoves said drinks into Lou’s hands in order to greet you, her Korean spoken so fast you can barely understand it all — but her eyes and the smile on her face tell you enough. She holds both your hands in hers, and shoots a wink at her son that makes his ears turn red, and warmth explodes in your chest as you all leave the airport.

You can feel somewhere deep inside, this is going to be the best two weeks of your life.

#vav fanfiction #vav imagines #vav scenarios #vav texts #vav lou #lou fanfiction #lou au #lou imagines #lou scenarios #lou texts #My writing #kpop fanfiction #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop texts #kpop imagines

148 notes · View notes

fan-wicktion · 5 years

Text

Let Me Blow Your Mind

MASTERLIST

warnings: smut, bad language, mild bdsm that includes slapping/hitting, being tied up, blindfolded

a/n: A smutty one-shot where a fem reader takes control of John Wick, featuring sub!John--which I have never written before. It was hard to shift perspectives but so fun to write! In honor of @homeorbust and an ask she sent a while ago! Partially inspired by Ed Sheeran’s new song, Blow, which is such an insanely good rock song?? Hope you guys like it 😘

———————————————————

John staggered through the door of your place, looking like hell.

“Long day, baby?” You appraise him for any serious wounds as you stride over to meet him. A few scratches and bruises were evident, but nothing too bad. Good. You pull him into a warm embrace, smoothing his bedraggled hair from his face. My big bad assassin.

He pulls you in tight, breathing in the smell of your shampoo. “Yes. Very long,” he grunts. Leading him by the hand, you bring him into the bathroom and help him clean up, fussing over a gash that had split open his eyebrow. Once John has bathed and changed, you direct him to the kitchen where you’ve kept dinner warm for him. He scarfs up the meal happily, sending you grateful glances as he stuff his mouth full of your cooking.

“You’re the best, y/n,” he practically moans, and in a flash you’ve leapt across to him.

“You keep making sounds like that—” you purr in his ear, a slender finger hooking under his chin, “—I’ll have to show you exactly why I’m the best.” You nip at his earlobe playfully, then sit back down at the table as though nothing happened.

John slowly sets down his fork, staring over at you with fire behind his dark eyes. “Oh, is that so?” He folds his hands in front of him on the table. “Do tell.”

Oh hell yes. You could feel it already; it was going to be one of those nights. One of your nights. Everyone knows John Wick takes control of any and every situation. It’s evident the man has power. But… not over you. In fact, he relishes in letting go. Letting you take control. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s a special treat for both of you when the power balance swings in your direction.

“Well John,” you smile deviously at him, cocking your head to the side. “Why don’t you meet me upstairs in an hour and find out?”

————————————————

A throaty rock n’ roll scream rips from the speakers in your room as you get ready, the thrum of electric guitar coursing through your veins.

I'm feelin' like a bullet

Jumpin' out a gun

I'm feelin' like a winner

I feel like the one

You slide the black lace garter belt up over your hips, clipping the thigh-high black tights in to their supports. Checking out your ass in the mirror, you admire the way the elastic bands accentuate your curves. Oh yeah, baby. You imagine John’s reaction when he sees you looking this delicious, and you feel yourself getting wet already. He won’t know what hit him…You glance over at the heart-shaped riding crop and grin, licking your lips. Well, maybe he will.

You toss your hair around to the beat, dancing and pulling yourself into the right mindset for this evening.

Oh, I wanna call you fever, baby

Bending to your toes, you begin trailing your fingertips up your legs, hips swaying to the music.

You can set a fire on me

Over your hips, up your torso…

Hot damn, pop it like a pistol, mama

You clutch your breasts with sudden force, staring down your reflection with haughty confidence.

You got me down on my knees, begging please

Curling your fingers into your hair, you swing your head side to side with the song, each line filling you with sensual confidence. You throw your head back like an exotic dancer, then walk over and perch yourself at your vanity. Slowly you apply a lacquer of red to your lips, the ultimate power trip.

I'm comin', baby

I'm comin' for you, yeah

Locked (locked), loaded (loaded)

Shoot my shot tonight

You cap the lipstick and raise a challenging eyebrow at yourself in the mirror. Perfect.

I'm comin', baby

I'm comin' for you

Pull my trigger, let me blow your mind.

Your lips curl into a dangerous smile. Get ready John, here I come.

—————————————————

A soft rap of knuckles on wood alert you to his presence outside the bedroom door.

“Enter.” Your voice is low and commanding, and you quickly disguise the thrill that rises in your chest when John steps through the doorway. Maintaining your cool, aloof exterior could be hard when your boyfriend looked that damn good.

John licks his lips hungrily as his dark eyes rove your curves. He strides over to you, ready to snatch you up into his arms, but you smack his hands away with a loud, stinging slap.

“Ohoho, look at you…” you leer at him, eyebrows arching in mock surprise. “Have you already forgotten your rules? You cannot touch me until I allow it…”

He growls as you circle him, stalking him like the lioness you are.

“What if I said fuck your rules?”

You freeze. Slowly—painfully so—you step around him until you’re right at his chest, glaring upwards.

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said—”

SMACK. Across the face. You monitor his reaction, and see his eyes twinkling devilishly as he returns your gaze. This is that game you play together: John pretending you can hurt him, you pretending his smartass comments do anything but turn you on. You love it. He loves it. But his insolence can’t go unchecked if you are to maintain control. Both of you knew, though, that everything would stop on a dime if it went too far. Fittingly, the safe word you shared was Continental—although neither of you have had to use it yet.

“Well, Mr. Wick,” you snarl at him, “the rules are the rules. Play by them or don’t play at all…and we both know you want to play.” You glance pointedly at his growing erection. “Just as I thought. Now sit on the bed.”

John rolls his eyes dramatically but obediently takes his seat. You realize he is still fully clothed and frown. Now that won’t do.

“John,” you smile at him sweetly, “could you remove your clothing for me, baby?” He begins to disrobe slowly to infuriate you, but picks up the pace when he sees your eyes flash in warning. He chuckles internally, relishing his ability to get you riled up. As he strips, you take the chance to grab a few supplies.

You return with a silky restraints, a blindfold, your riding crop, and a bowl of ice cubes that you keep hidden from John’s view. He is perched at the end of your king-sized bed (necessary for a man of his proportions), beautifully exposed to you. You lick your lips. Delicious, you think, striding over to him. You grip his jaw firmly in your right hand, bending down slightly to look him directly in the eyes.

“Now who gave you the right to look this good? Hmm?”

John grins at you cockily, but you can see a slight blush rising to his cheeks. You tilt his chin up towards your face and run your tongue along his bottom lip so gently it feels like a breath, then swiftly bite down and tug at it, reveling in the slight whimper that escapes him.

“Now lay back.” You break away from his mouth suddenly, shoving his chest so that he falls onto the waiting mattress. Crawling over him, you playfully herd him towards the headboard with nips and kisses expertly placed on sensitive skin. Once he is propped up against the headboard, gazing at you with tangible heat, you set to work restraining him.

Beginning at his neck, you lick a possessive stripe of saliva down to his wrist, then blow on it gently, raising goosebumps on his arm as you tie one hand to a bedpost. You do the same on the other side, then straddle him, blindfold in hand.

“What, I don’t get to see you do all these dirty things to me?” John hits you with a stern look, acting as if this sensory deprivation wasn’t one of his favorite things. In fact, he loved how it kept him on edge, awaiting each touch and trying to predict where it would land. It was honestly an amazing way to hone his other senses for while he was on the job, even though work was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.

Mocking him with an exaggerated pout, you slip the cover over his eyes, making sure to brush the hair off of his face first.

You slide off his lap, trailing your nails down his chest as you position yourself to kneel between his legs. Reaching up towards his face with your riding crop, you gently caress the line of his jaw. The rich scent of the leather unveils your tool’s identity to John, and you see him bite his bottom lip in anticipation.

“Well, aren’t you a sight,” you purr, voice as silken as the ropes restraining him. “If only you could see how WET—” THWACK! “—You’re making me right now sweetheart.” You quickly pop an ice cube in your mouth, and sooth the stinging heart-shaped mark you left on his ribcage with a frozen kiss.

“Fuuck,” John groans, erection stiffening. “Baby your mouth is so cold it’s driving me insane.”

You grin and, holding the ice between your lips, trail your mouth from his collarbones to his chest, around his nipples, and down his happy trail to his hips. John squirms pleasantly below you, yelping as it passes over more sensitive areas. His arms flex against his restraints, granting you full view of his physical prowess. And he’s at MY mercy…

THWACK! Another heart lands on his thigh, red heat immediately opposed by cold lips. The ice has melted now, but your mouth is still freezing. You scoot backwards and hover your face over his inner thighs, then kiss an excruciatingly slow and frosty trail up to his balls. John is positively losing his mind. He lets out a frustrated yell and tugs at the ropes that hold him when you lap at the pair, desperate to grab you by the hair and put you to work.

Humming in approval, you caress his throbbing length with the tips of your fingers, careful to keep your touches too gentle to get him anywhere but more worked up. John growls down at you, unable to do anything about it.

“Oh, I’m SORRY—” you grip his cock with sudden force giving him a few good pumps before removing your hand entirely. “—You’ll just have to wait longer now.”

“Jesus FUCK. I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t stop.” John was on the verge of full on begging. Exactly what you wanted.

“Hmm… what was that?” You needed to hear him say it. Tell him how much he wanted you to fuck him. How much he needed you. Then it would be on.

“Please, baby. Please. I’m begging you. I need you right now, baby. Please fuck me. I can’t take this much longer…”

And with that, you take his entirely into your mouth, saliva dripping from your lips. You suck his dick in the filthiest way possible, moaning and calling his name as you choke on him. Heat is building in your core, and your own juices are beginning to drip down your legs. You needed him now.

You move to kneel so that your wet pussy is positioned right above his vertical length, brushing your lacy undergarments tantalizingly against his tip. You lean forward and watch John’s shocked expression as you remove his blindfold. His eyes glaze over with lust as he takes in the sight of you nearly riding him.

“Wha—?”

“I want you to watch very carefully.” You pull your panties to the side with your left hand, gripping his cock with your right. Lining yourself up, you glance back up at him.

“Do you want me?”

“Yes,” he pants.

“I said do you want me?”

“YES. Yes, I want—” His words are cut off by an obscene moan as you sink down on him, taking him all into your warm, tight folds. You let out a sigh as well, fire heating your belly.

“Look at you,” you coo at him, “stretching me out like this. Look how huge you look inside of me. Yessss baby, give it to me. Give it all to me.”

“Oh my GOD. FUCK.” His eyes roll back into his head, and he matches your rhythm with thrusts of his hips, pulling on his restraints for leverage. You reach down and rub quick circles over your clit, clenching around his dick as you near the edge.

“I’m close John,” you whine, and the sound nearly causes him to cum right then and there. You feel him fighting to maintain control of himself, and command him to wait for you to get there.

Panting, you finally feel the shuddering release of orgasm grip your body, and you feel John filling you with his load as he finishes simultaneously with a yell of pleasure. You fall to his chest, and you both rest like that for a minute—sweaty and euphoric. Hands shaking slightly with leftover adrenaline, you untie John’s wrists and kiss them lovingly where the skin was marked.

“You did amazing, John,” you praise, running your hands through his hair.

“Me?” He chuckles at you fondly. “You did all the work!”

You both laugh and nuzzle into each other, ready for the the replenishing sleep that lay ahead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @mikaneonox @onebatch—twobatch @catsmieow @homesoutofhuman @lunilate I included only the people who said they’d like to be tagged in everything, but if you’re tagged in Sparrow (or even if you aren’t) and want to be added to my universal tag list, let me know!

#John Wick #john wick smut #john wick fanfic #sub!john #dom!reader #Keanu Reeves #Assassin #fanfiction #blow by ed sheeran

252 notes · View notes

r6shippingdelivery · 5 years

Note

Have you ever thought about the operators' favourite sleeping positions?

So as in with the smoking and dancing posts, let’s break their sleeping habits by CTUs, shall we?

FBI- Ash: she has mastered the art of falling asleep with astonishing ease, anywhere,everywhere, no matter how uncomfortable the surface or how loud the environment. She still prefers her bed above all tho.- Thermite: he has the bad habit of sleeping with one arm under the pillow no matter the position. He wakes up with numb hands quite often.- Pulse: he is rigid even while sleeping, favouring a face up with arms on the sides pose. He gets less stiff if he’s sleeping with his partner.- Castle: mostly sleeps on his side, has a habit of kicking the blankets since he gets hot easily.

SAS- Thatcher: he dislikes anything that makes him take note of his age, but he needs a decent mattress to sleep, otherwise he wakes up all in knots. Will always wake up roughly at the same time, even without an alarm.- Sledge: has a tendency to sprawl, if sleeping with a partner will often throw an arm or leg over them.- Smoke: likes sleeping face down, face plastered sideways on the pillow. His teammates are surprised he hasn’t accidentally suffocated himself yet.- Mute: he mostly falls asleep on the workshop, waking up some hours later with a terrible crick on his neck. Then he goes to bed for real.

GIGN- Montagne: cuddler supreme, if he sleeps alone he’ll literally cuddle the blankets or his own pillow.- Twitch: tries to mentalize herself to stop working and go to bed, ends up bringing the schematics she’s working on to bed with her.- Doc: another one guilty of working until unreasonably late and falling asleep on his desk. His partner usually has to come and lead him to bed.- Rook: nothing of note here, normal sleeping habits so to speak. Probably has the most adorable bed hair ever when he wakes up.

Spetsnaz- Tachanka: he loves to fall asleep in the couch, with the TV on as background noise, and preferably holding his partner/cuddling them. - Kapkan: a light sleeper, will wake up at almost any noise. If sleeping with his partner, he has an easier time falling back asleep and loves playing with the soft locks of hair- Glaz: sleeps like a log, nothing short of a loud alarm can wake him up. Loves sleeping with his head on his partner’s chest, listening to the even breathing and heart beat - Fuze: surprisingly clingy in his sleep, he might look cold and aloof during the day, but the moment he has someone in bed he just holds them tight

GSG9- Jäger: terrible sleep schedule, overworks himself and when he sleeps he often has nightmares yes from Outbreak mainly and thrashes and kicks around- Bandit: another one with nightmares, these ones from old events and his brother. He often wakes up at ungodly hours and decides to just watch netflix until he calms down.- Blitz: getting in bed means being alone with his thoughts, and beneath is happy exterior Blitz is a worrier™. It takes him forever to fall asleep.- IQ: she tries to get out of the workshop at a decent hour, because she loves having some spare time to read in bed. Often falls asleep while reading and wakes up with the book on her face.

JTF2- Buck: man runs hot like a furnace, he rarely needs blankets, prefers to sleep face up.- Frost: she curls up to occupy minimal space, looks really cute doing that.

SEAL- Valkyrie: sleeps on her side, she actually has a hard time falling asleep if it’s not in this position.- Blackbeard: he like to laze in bed whenever he can. He’ll physyically trap his partner if needed, just five more minutes please.

BOPE- Capitao: he wakes up frequently during the night, tries really hard to not give into the demons skirting the edges of his mind. Nothing you can think of at 3am is going to be positive, he knows from experience.- Caveira: she grew up with a lot of sibilings and is used to sharing a bed, barely moves when sleeping and her breathing is so soft she has had more than one person shake her awake while asking “Taina, are you breathing?”

SAT- Hibana: has a strict routine of when she goes to sleep, so she can wake up extra early, she loves jogging in the morning before archery practice.- Echo: keeps awake until late playing videogames or with his drones. He’s tried using a modified Yokai to bring breakfast to his room, but the prototype still needs some refining.

GEO- Jackal: sleeping? Nice concept, but Jackal hasn’t got the chance to practice it much. Sex sometimes helps him fall sleep, afterwards; but he feels like a creep pointing this to his partner.- Mira: another deep sleeper, but never shake her awake, she reacts by hitting until she’s sufficiently aware of her situation.

SDU- Ying: Echo said she kicks in her sleep, but was she actually asleep when she did that?- Lesion: prefers sleeping in firm surfaces or mattresses, but is not very picky.

GROM- Zofia: she doesn’t like showing weakness, but she really misses sleeping with her husband and child. Nights are lonely for poor Zofia.- Ela: she will kill anyone who dares mention it, but she still sleeps with a small plushie yes, it’s the one Zofia gifted him when they were kids, shut up she’s not sentimental at all

707SMB- Vigil: likes to sleep in total darkness, any light, no matter how small, makes it harder for him to fall asleep.- Dokkaebi: her phone is at all time within hand reach or under her pillow.

CBRN- Lion: always prays before going to bed, but he still castigates himself endlessly by revisiting his worst memories, the cross on his chest weighing like it’s made of lead.- Finka: she always fears what the morning will come, dreading it will be the day her neuropathy gets the best of her. Therefore, she tries to sleep as little as possible without being unhealthy, make the most of her time.

GIS- Maestro: he likes big beds and he cannot lie. And all the better if he has his partner in there too, that bed is way too big for one person, right cuore mio?- Alibi: she prefers to either sleep alone or have enough space if she’s sleeping with her partner, doesn’t like feeling crowded.

GSUTR- Clash: if she can, she loves pampering herself before sleep: a nice shower, exfoliating her face, a nice smelling body cream, etc. She’s not averse to getting a massage from her partner… and returning the favour, of course.- Maverick: used to sleeping without blankets, but he gets cold easily. Another one that has frequent nightmares.

GIGR- Kaid: his cat sleeps on the bed with him. His partner can accept that or sleep on their own.- Nomad: she prefers sleeping under the stars rather than in a bedroom.

SASR- Mozzie: he’s a bundle of energy even while he sleeps, often tosses and turns around, even if he usually falls asleep quickly.- Gridlock: she likes to take a cup of something sweet before bed, watching the stars if possible, just like she did growing up in the farm. She also makes a comfy pillow and loves to get cuddles.

#rainbow 6 siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #r6siege #I'm screaming omg so many ops this was neverending!#Anonymous #headcanons

125 notes · View notes

seromreven · 5 years

Text

title: i’ll take you there | chapter two.

pairing: paul mccartney/female!reader/linda mccartney | john lennon/female!reader.

summary: the year is 1974. You’re the personal assistant of Paul and Linda McCartney. One spring day you meet the rather infamous John Lennon during the middle of his ‘Lost Weekend’ escapades. Spark fly and secrets unfold between the two of you.

author’s note: ... WELL.

also posted on ao3!

John and May’s shared home was a beach house near the road between Santa Monica and Malibu. It was shared between them and other musicians working on Harry Nilsson’s upcoming album, that John was also producing. Something that you were told as you stood in front of the lavish house surrounded by various tropical plants and trees. Not the type of building you had imagined someone like Lennon to live in.

The exterior was made of concrete made in a modern and minimalistic style. A popular design in the neighbourhood you had noted as you had driven by many similar designs. You stood leaned against your car, now wearing your jean jacket, as you silently looked over the building as Paul and John talked animatedly about one thing or another. Linda and May stood and talked to each other but in a quieter fashion and you slowly made your way over to them as Linda had spotted you and waved you over.

Linda turned to you with a smile; she appeared tired, “[first name], could you call Ms Sanders on the car phone and check on the kids?” You nodded and smiled politely to May as you turned around and walked to the McCartney’s car. You leaned over the edge of the convertible and carefully dialled the number. It didn’t take long before someone picked up.

“Hello, Ms Sanders? This is [full name], the McCartney’s personal assistant.”

“Oh, hi! ... Is something the matter?”

You laughed lightly, “no no, I’m just calling for Linda to check on the girls.”

The woman on the other end became silent and you could hear the background noise of movement. Instead of starting to worry; you calmed yourself with the thought that she probably had gone off to look for the girls. It was late and well past their bedtime after all. You glanced over your shoulder as you waited and saw that John was again looking at you, silently as Paul talked to him still. Your eyes narrowed as he didn’t seem to realise you had noticed him. You were bending over the door of the car to be on the phone and, well, it wasn’t completely out of the question he was taking you out. You flushed at the rather ridiculous thought (surely, he wasn’t!) and returned to stare down into the car as you waited.

“Oh, dear,” the woman on the other end reemerged with the line and your heart stilled at it. Was something wrong? “Little Mary isn’t feeling well and wants her parents to come home.”

You placed your hand over your chest as you turned around as much as the phone’s cord would allow and looked over at the couple. They were talking in a little circle with the other pair at the entrance of the house, presumably waiting for you. “Hang on,” you mumbled and yelled Linda’s name and waved her over and pointed at the phone in your hand.

“Here’s Linda now,” you told the babysitter and handed over the phone to Linda who had hurried to the car. You stepped aside and watched Linda silently with your arms crossed. You were quickly joined by Paul who looked at you questioningly. You shrugged and looked at the entrance where John and May stood looking at the three of you.

“Honey,” Linda got the attention of the both of you. She had only meant it for Paul this time around but you had been called it enough by her that it was an innate instinct to react. She sighed, looking more tired than before but now with the added bonus of worrying. You felt you knew where her sentence was going next and uncrossed your arms in preparation for it.

“We need to get back to the hotel. Mary’s sick.”

Paul nodded. You knew he wasn’t at all hesitant to rush to Mary’s side in any circumstance but there was something about the situation now. He had finally gotten together with John again. No matter your current thought and feelings about the former Beatle; he was still important to Paul. You would offer to could in their stead but the idea would be shot down, so much you knew. From six pm earlier that day you had time off for the next two weeks and it was of your own volition that you had gone with them to John and May’s place.

“I’ll explain it to them,” you nudged your head in the direction of the house, “so you can just leave,” you reassured them as Linda stepped around the car to get into the passenger seat. Paul nodded, again, and went to sit in front of the steering wheel as he glanced to the house. You patted on softly on the shoulder and soon after they took off. You turned towards the house and mentally prepared yourself was what to follow. Lord, keep check on your patience.

You slowly made your way over to them while going through what to say.

“Sorry,” you said as you went up the stairs that lead to the front doors of the house. They stood wide open and you could look inside to see a rather neat and tidy entrance. “They youngest got sick so they had to leave,” you folded your hands together and glanced at John. He seemed disappointed.

“Aw, too bad. Give them our well wishes, alright?” May did look distraught, more so than John did who just muttered a ‘yeah’ and stepped inside the house. May glanced at him as he went and then turned back to you as he disappeared out of sight.

“You can still come in for dinner, you want to,” she smiled politely at you and, well; how could you refuse that? You were still hungry. Smiling back, you nodded, “sure.” And was guided inside the house.

It was as you had seen when you were waiting outside... Neat. A surprise to you when you thought of the house as a shared colony of shorts for musicians. You had been around enough to know that outside of making music and taking care of their instruments; they typically wearing the tidy sort. Either there were exceptions to the rule or they had a really good cleaning crew.

“Hope you like Indian!” May smiled and looked at you over her shoulder as you followed her to the kitchen. There; John already stood with the food laying out in front as he smoked what presumably was a normal cigarette. You shrugged. You weren’t against Indian food. You had gotten it a couple of times with Paul whenever he got nostalgic about his time in India.

“She joining us?” He asked, looking at May and not even glancing in your direction. Hm, you crossed your arms at that. You were getting to be rather miffed as his constant aloofness towards you.

“For dinner, yes,” she answered with a slight giggle as he was grinning. You felt you had missed something. An inside joke, perhaps? You slightly shook your head at yourself and sat down on one of the many bar stools that surrounded the kitchen high table that John stood at with May while preparing the food. You scratched your neck and looked around. The design of the kitchen was very modern, you thought. Very minimalist and one coloured. You wondered who had chosen the house and if they also had stood for the decorations. It didn’t exactly match the vibes you got from the couple in front of you.

They in silence went and took out plates and glasses, preparing the food like taking it out of containers and reheating it. God, you should make small talk, shouldn’t you? The silence was unbearable and while May seemed like a really nice girl; you were very much unsure of what to feel about John.

You coughed slightly and asked, “how long have the two of you been together?” Your eyes followed John around as he took out different kinds of food, each on their own plate. It looked to be legs of Tandoori Chicken, Samosas and Chicken Tikka Masala with a lot of rice. Well, you didn't have to worry about starving it seemed. Three large bottles of lager stood next to the glasses. They were covered in moisture from the change of climate, from the cold fridge to the warm summer night that had crept inside the house.

“Oh,” May exclaimed, quickly glanced to John before pausing in what she was doing to look at you, “last year. Though we’ve known each other for a few years before that.”

You nodded and looked down at your folded hands in thought. It was probably not best to continue on that subject. He was still married to Yoko Ono. Whether he had cheated on her with May and then went to live with her after he was found out or something, you didn’t know. But, honestly, it really wasn’t your business to know. “So, uh, how long have you worked for Paul and Linda?” She in return asked you. So you looked back up at her. She smiled at you very sweetly while John’s back was turned to you.

“Close to three years.”

She nodded with a smile, looking to and from you and John. You wondered what was on her mind, she seemed expectant of something; but what? Mentally you shrugged. You really had to stop being so suspicious. Let bygones be bygones or whatever fitted into the current situation.

They sat down in front of you, next to each other, and placed the dishes out. Three plates were filled with the Tikka Masala and were placed out in each of you while the Tandoori Chicken and Samosas were in the middle to just take from, you assumed. It looked and smelled good. Since moving in and living with the McCartney’s you had gone vegetarian as it was what you were. But it wasn’t something you followed strictly and they understood that, so you didn’t feel bad when you reached out for a chicken leg as stomach groaned in hunger.

You quickly got through the food without much conversation. You felt… not completely at unease but something like it. There right in front of you sat John Lennon. It was much to go through. You had been such a fan of his and The Beatles. And then you got to be working with one of them! You had always thought they were such good friends but there just seemed to be so much hostility post-breakup of the band and you had seen first hand how it affected Paul. You had to think empathetically and remember; it takes two. And you knew well enough Paul could hand out a few choice words himself, so you had to consider what John might have had gone through too. Though, it might also just be nostalgia from your teens and your intimate relationship with Paul that could all muddled up into a… just confusing mess.

You knew enough to not take any shit from John if he decided to dish some.

You were sitting still, sipping your beer as John stood in the kitchen cleaning up dishes and what else had been used as May sat in front of you talking animatedly. “It’s so nice to talk to another woman again!” She laughed and your attention snapped back at her as you had been rather unfocused on your conversation with her as you had been staring at John’s backside... His back! … Okay.

You frowned slightly at her and she explained; “I feel like I’m just surrounded by men lately. Sadly not many women working in the business, you know?” You nodded. Sure, there were women in music. But it was rare they were anything but the artists. You could only hope that would change.

You weren’t uninterested in her or whatever conversation she was making, it just that you felt rather easily distracted in this large… white as hell… house. Seriously, who wants to live like this? And then there was the eternal subject of John. His existence was easy to forget when he wasn’t right in front of you… totally noticing that you were (again) staring at him. Well, he did it earlier so why not make it a competition.

But just as your eyes narrowed as you both looked at each other; a crack of thunder shot down outside causing you to jump off your seat at the sudden noise. “Shit!” You blurted out and felt your heart beat violently in your chest. That had really taken you by surprise. May had immediately stood up as you did, though it looked like it was out of concern than shock. The thunder had been the crack that opened the sky up and now the sound of rain pelting the roof was almost deafening as John hurried around, with a tiny smirk on his face, to close the windows. May gently touched your bicep and asked, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “sorry.”

The last part was as a quieter volume as you had been slowly feeling the embarrassment of your shock creep up your neck. You weren’t… scared of thunder. It had just really taken you back. But it really looked like getting home would be difficult as you stared out of the window over the kitchen sink. It was pitch black and you could feel the effect of the day suddenly hit you.

May seemed to have the same thought and said, “you’re welcome to stay in one of the guest rooms for the night. It looks dangerous to drive out in this weather.”

You sighed, defeated, with a nod. It only made sense to stay. And you were sure Paul and Linda would be… less than happy if you crashed your car or, I don’t know, died. Rather alive in John’s house than dead in a ditch. Maybe if you considered it ‘May’s house’ the thought with fill you less with anxiety and more with comfortability.

Was anxiety what it was though? He hadn’t been horrible to you personally. And Paul seemed happy to see him today. So maybe you should just but a break on those thoughts and think positive! Like you’ve been saying to yourself multiple times that day! Jeez.

“Thank you so much,” and you really meant it. You were so exhausted. Head not willing to shut up about one thing or another or John. Having had beer, even a little pot. Your body was ready to shut down.

“John,” May turned away with a kind smile from you to look at her boyfriend, “will you show her to it?”

He… hesitated as he looked at the both of you. C’mon, dude, show a little sportsmanship. As the kind, you were willing to do. In theory. If he didn’t jeopardise it. Not that he was any aware of the many warnings you had assigned to him… Well.

“I’ll be glad to,” he flashed a smile and nodded to you as he passed you by towards a flight of stairs you had seen in the foyer. You went up the stairs and through a slim hallway in silence. What kind of small talk could you make with a man like that? He had already gone through so much. And shared so much Paul. Or had. Or whatever their relationship was. Today had confused you on that point.

“Here you are,” he said and opened up a stark white door. The design of the room wasn’t much different than the rest of the house. Though in this case, you found it rather calming. A bedroom should have a calming aesthetic as it should be a place for rest. Most of the time at least. The wall furthest in the room had a wall long window. Neat.

You turned around as you took in the room. Sleeping in a strange place was always weird but this wouldn’t be… bad.

“What’d you think?” It came from John and you turned with a raised brow to look at him again. He cared what you thought about the place? You shrugged, seemingly aloof as you told him, “it’s nice. And very… beige,” you let out a small laugh as you turned to look at a painting that hung proudly over a cypress dresser.

You glanced at him, finally had enough with your thoughts; “who’s to… blame for the design of the place?” You looked back at the painting. It was done in an abstract style. Ugly but probably very fun to look at when high off your balls in LSD or some shit. He came to stand next to you as you studied the painting. He was smiling and it looked kinda… nice.

It wasn’t before he talked that you noticed how close he actually was standing;

“Dunno. One of Harry’s guys.”

You nodded, now in a daze, as you took in the various scents he had brought along. Weed and a touch of sweat and cologne… Nice, in a way. It made you feel… kinda tingly. Tingly… hmm, let’s just say… Nauseous? I mean, weed and sweat? Totally not something to blush about- right? Damn. Oh, you were back to the staring game. Staring at each other. Did he feel weird about this as well? Annoyed? Irritated? Anything like you felt?

May suddenly appeared in the open doorway and you jolted away from John as if electrocuted. He looked amused as he watched you bump into the bed that hadn’t been much further away from you and you landed on your ass on the soft covers with a light ‘thud’ and a slight bounce. God, what kind of reaction was that?

May giggled lightly, probably a little intoxicated but mostly due to the fool you were making of yourself. She then said, “the bathroom’s just down the hall. John and I are staying in the room next to yours.”

You nodded while feeling pretty hot faced. You hadn’t acted like such a fool around a man (or a couple for that matter) since you first started working for the McCartney’s. All your stoic and ‘cool’ attitude and the composure you usually held just threw itself right out the window. But this was different. Surely!

The meanwhile you had panicked mentally at everything going on; John had made his way to May’s side and had his arm around her waist. “Sleep tight!” She smiled, kinda cute, with a small wave. “And don’t let the bed bugs bite ya,” John added with a smirk before shutting the door close. You had them go down the hall and into their rooms next door. It didn’t bode well that the walls seemed to be so… thin.

And as you had undressed and crawled under the covers, you soon found out why. You could hear the couple talking. You could make out what exactly just muffled familiar voice… That soon quieter and into… Oh, God… Moans? Were they… making love with a guest over? Well, Christ, they did live with a handful of other people. Maybe it was just something they didn’t consider. But still, they were right next door!

Shit, you were too tired to care… or let the various… erotic sounds really have an effect on you. You willed those demons away and covered your head with the blanket as you quickly feel into a slumber with rather weird dreams.

#i'll take you there fic #the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #linda mccartney #may pang #female reader #reader #reader insert #beatles fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #gonna update my chaptered stories before focusing again on requests

10 notes · View notes

ketzwrites · 5 years

Text

Rewatch 102: The Descent Into Hell Isn’t Easy

Written by Ed Decter (story) & Hollie Overton (teleplay) | Directed by Mick Garris

This is a poorly written episode. It feels like a filler rather than an episode: it exists only so Clary can find out Valentine is her father. Something Hodge could’ve told her in the first act.

The consequence is that the characters run in circles and make nonsensical decisions to stretch out the storyline into implausible lengths.

General Notes

The biggest problem with this episode is that the dialogues and actions don’t make sense. For example, Jace says Clary isn’t safe outside the Institute alone. But Alec wants to keep Clary in the Institute, not let her go on her own. This isn’t a logical conversation. Also, they are both acting as if Clary will get out no matter what, as if the Institute doesn’t have ways to just lock Clary inside, where she is safe. Like a holding cell or a room with a lock rune around it.

It’s not that the episode absolutely lacks good writing. Jace and Clary brainstorming and Jace coming to the conclusion that Clary’s memories were stolen works perfectly. But it all goes downhill from there.

Another thing that doesn’t make sense is the shadowhunters going to the Silent Brothers. None of the three highly trained shadowhunters present considers going to the High Warlock to get rid of a warlock-casted spell. They do not know Magnus went into hiding. That should be their first option before going to the Silent Brothers - a shadowhunter institution - while breaking the Clave’s orders - another shadowhunter institution.

But, all right, say they go to the Silent Brothers first because shadowhunters trust shadowhunters more than downworlders. Then, another problem arises. Alec thinks Clary is her father’s spy pretending to be a helpless girl in search of the Mortal Cup. It’s a fair assumption even though we know he’s wrong. But then, Clary’s answer is listing all the bad things that have happened to her. Alec should never have been shut down by that. A spy would have a sob story to gain sympathy. If only they had a way to know beyond doubt that Clary is telling the truth- Oh, yeah. The truth-compelling Soul Sword is right there.

But alas, Clary has made her choice between the Shadow and Mundane Worlds. She is now a shadowhunter. Throughout the episode, Clary chooses Jace (Shadow World) over Simon (Mundane World). But this decision comes too quickly. It’s hard to swallow how okay she is with that idea after what happened in the first episode. The explanation that Clary always felt something was missing and now she’s found it notwithstanding (see: The Bad)

Again, Clary makes it clear. “I don’t care about your rules or what is forbidden.” But when offered the opportunity to leave the Shadow World, she doesn’t go. She wants to stay and be a part of it, but only as far as it helps her find her mother. Clary wants to eat her cake and have it too.

It’s convenient how Hodge doesn’t tell Clary about Jocelyn and Valentine being married. We need to stretch that secret for the whole episode, or we won’t make it to the 40-minute mark.

Why would the shadowhunters system even have a restricted file on Jocelyn “Fray”? For all that they know, she’s Jocelyn Fairchild or Jocelyn Morgenstern. Jocelyn used “Fray” to hide from the Clave; if they know about that, they could have found her.

Alec tells the Clave about Clary. As of episode two, the orders are to keep Clary in the Institute. Whatever happens next that isn’t that consists in Alec, Jace, and Izzy explicitly disobeying Clave’s orders.

The Good

Jace might be acting like a jerk to Simon, but he makes a point of warning him against Izzy’s cooking twice. It’s silly but that’s Jace in a nutshell: tough exterior hiding a soft heart.

Good for the show not to shy away from a male figure (Luke) fighting a female figure (Midori – Circle Member). In a world of supernatural beings, gender means nothing in terms of physical prowess.

We get the tiniest bit of complicity between Alec and Jace with the joke about the runes being lethal to Simon. Good. Show us they are friends and they enjoy each other’s company.

The Bad

The justification for Clary accepting the Shadow World with ease doesn’t convince me. Never once did I see Clary longing for adventure or something fantastical to happen in her mundane life. In fact, she refused and fled every time something extraordinary happened. I do not believe she was missing this part of her life at all.

Simon’s interest in Clary loses believability as he ditches her for the new hot girl. I no longer feel bad for Simon when Clary chooses Jace instead of him. Also, Simon has an older sister. Why would he compare himself to Alec, the oldest brother, when Izzy says “firstborn; heavy is the head that wears the crown”?

Why does Hodge look barely older than Alec and Jace? They went with an actor ten years younger than the rest of the adult shadowhunters (and didn’t age him as they did with Nicola - playing the severe and professional looking, Maryse). It’s confusing, especially since Hodge refers to Jocelyn as his best friend.

Shadowhunters has a tendency to go for badass lines in detriment of characterization. In the same episode Clary reacts to Jace’s suggestion that Dot might be working for Valentine with the sassy cold line “even better, she’ll lead us right to him” but then is distressed when Dot is taken by the Circle Members. Does she trust and care for Dot or not?

“Is this the least revealing thing you own?” It’s a top and pants. Clary was admiring much more revealing top just a few days ago. What’s up with the mismatched criticizing of Izzy’s clothes??

Why does Magnus have glitter on his forehead? No, seriously. Why?

The Interesting

Izzy doesn’t act like a human being around Simon. She is too alluring, like she is performing instead of just being. Izzy doesn’t think she’s ever going to see him again, so she’s having fun with him before it is time to discard him. That sort of aloofness gives the vampires a chance to kidnap him.

Jace says that “no training and no planning gets you killed”. He then proceeds to go along with Clary’s spur of the moment decisions for the rest of the season.

I get why Dot wouldn’t trust Luke. He was once Valentine’s Parabatai, he only quit the Circle after being turned into a werewolf, and, even as werewolf, he isn’t a part of any packs. But why would Luke distrust Dot?

22:48: Alec is worried about Clary’s safety, about the repercussions of what they are doing for all of them. He is thinking rationally about it and ignoring the emotional needs of everyone around him. Jace is willing to risk Clary’s safety to find the Mortal Cup before Valentine does because Jace sees himself in Clary and he would be willing to get hurt in order to find answers. He is focusing only on her emotional need instead of the real-life repercussions of what they are doing. This is a “mind versus heart” dilemma.

Jace and Clary cute flirting before entering the City of Bones is cute. Inside the City of Bones? Not so much. It is one thing to flirt over Jace’s personality; Clary and Jace are equal in understanding those. It is another thing to flirt over the Shadow World; Jace is the authority there and if he is not telling Clary how things really are, he is shaping her understanding to his liking. Here it’s harmless and Jace does tell her the real meaning of things, but the tendency isn’t as romantic as the writers think it is.

“No more ‘I’m sorry’s. You’re a shadowhunter now” and shadowhunters don’t make mistakes or aren’t held responsible when they do. Question him, Clary! This world view is wrong.

#ketz rewatches shadowhunters #sh 201 #sh meta #this is a poorly written episode #and it feels like a filler

2 notes · View notes

regrettablewritings · 6 years

Text

Bruce Wayne x Reader Ship Meme

Author’s Note: Super big thanks to @twisteddamselartwork for her kindly donation for not one, but two ship memes!! Here’s the first one!! Be on the lookout for the bonus question that I got too carried away with and thus had to create an entirely separate post for 😘 Happy reading!!

who is more likely to hurt the other?: Bruce, without a doubt. Not physically, but emotionally. It isn’t even like he intends to, but Bruce is already an emotionally stoic man. Frankly, it’s a trait that’s only gotten worse with time, alongside his emotional welfare. During the events following the Kryptonian attack, he became hypervigilant and all the more bitter and suspicious towards people and less agreeable towards those who may hold a slightly more sympathetic view towards the Superman, so if you happened to be one of those people there was a decent chance that he might coldly insult you or scold you. Of course, being that you’re his significant other, he tries to be a bit more reasonable with you than he would with others but that doesn’t necessarily do much. Post-Doomsday Attack, however, as he works toward regaining his former principles, Bruce also is working toward controlling his temper far better. He owes you that much.

who is emotionally stronger?: You’d think it’d be Bruce, but it’s honestly most likely you. (For crying out loud, the man’s response to his parents getting gunned down in front of him was to put on a bat suit, play ninja, and beat the shit out of people who wear brazen makeup and ridiculous clothes!) All jokes aside, though, the circumstances surrounding Bruce’s emotional stability is complex. Because on one hand, the fact that he’s withstood all that he has and more without collapsing in the traditional sense is pretty astounding. But on the other, enduring all that he has at the frequency with which he has, coupled with his unhealthy coping mechanisms, makes for the chance of his emotional state being a true ticking time bomb. You may not be the scarily enduring soldier of sorts that Bruce has proven to be, but you’re at least more likely to confront and sort out your feelings.

who is physically stronger?: Oh, Bruce, without a shadow of a doubt. The man has been training for ages, pushing his body to its limits to assure himself as a commendable fighter for Gotham City. Even in his older age, he doesn’t show any sign of slowing down his intense regimens: He does chin-ups with heavy weights tied to his hips, he pulls bigass truck tires, he lifts dumbbells restrained by chains to produce resistance – his 6’3” ass had better be physically strong after all that!

who is more likely to break a bone?: Despite all of the coverage that armor gives him, Bruce always manages to find a way to get a broken finger, rib, toe, tailbone, etc.

who knows best what to say to upset the other?: As stated before, Bruce isn’t exactly the best when it comes to softness all the time. When he’s in business mode, he’s better at holding his tongue because it’s what the job demands. But a both good and bad thing about Bruce being able to be himself with you is just how easy it is for his more lax nature to let something slip out and frustrate you. That isn’t to say that you’re completely innocent, however: You can say some things that Bruce finds just as hurtful (i.e. that he’s being a complete asshole of a brute, that he’s being inconsiderate, nothing he’s doing is working, etc.)

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument?: Bruce is. Even though his image will always be associated with that of a playboy (it’s hard to scrub that image off even years after the fact), Bruce still knows the right and wrong ways to treat a lady, especially the one with whom he’s in a relationship. He can get fired up at you all he wants, but he’ll hear the voice of his father in his head scolding him for being “an uppity jackass” and begin to truly weigh in on just how unimportant the argument probably was in the grand scheme of things. After he’s taken some time to cool down and think up the right words, he’ll ask if you’ll listen and gently try and explain himself and ask for your forgiveness.

Of course . . . there are some arguments between the two of you that are, regardless of how minuscule in general, feel mighty big to you both. In which cases, apologizing becomes a lot more difficult to do, even with Bruce’s typical consideration for being the bigger man. The two of you can probably go for days just ignoring one another, with you tending to sleep at your old apartment or Bruce preferring to spend his nights in the Batcave or even patrolling way past his usual hours until the sun is coming up and you’re due to be on your way to work.

It’s moments like these that require a little “nudge.” That is, if Alfred threatening to strangle Bruce or drag him by the ear as though he were twelve again counts as a nudge. In which case, it’s still technically Bruce apologizing, but it was kick-started by Alfred getting irritated by watching the both of you silently squabble like children. He’s done his time raising wee ones: Unless you’re planning on bringing a Wayne heir into the mix, he’s not going to be dealing with two big children! He is firmly Done™.

who treats who’s wounds more often?: You barely do anything warranting wounds to begin with, so it’s easily you who treats Bruce’s wounds. Thankfully (though perhaps more worryingly), Bruce is so used to being busted up all over that he barely flinches through the entire ordeal, making him the perfect wound patient.

who is in constant need of comfort?: Don’t be fooled by his cold, independent exterior: Bruce is in desperate need of comfort, far more than he would ever readily let in on. He needs it on all three levels: Physical, mental, and emotional. While Bruce isn’t what many would consider touch-starved (after all, all those women who came before you sure were rather handsy with him), he’s been starved of touches that communicate genuine affection; an intimacy no one-night stand or even year-long fling could conjure up to the fullest extent that you can. Mentally, Bruce is canonically described as “morally bankrupt” – and who could blame him!? He’s been at this essentially thankless job for decades, becoming more and more exhausted to the point of cutting corners to assure that the people he puts away stay away (or, in the cases of those branded, down). With the things he’s seen and done, the things he must live with the consequences of, it’s a surprise Bruce hasn’t had a complete mental breakdown at this point and forced himself to check into a rehabilitation center to calm down.

Linking with these things are his emotions: Bruce has trained himself to be a stoic of sorts, and isn’t too great at expressing emotions beyond collectiveness and anger. As a result, he tends to bottle up a lot of his real thoughts and feelings and it’s sort of corroded him from the inside out along with the passage of time. He desperately craves constant relief in the form of gentle touches or speaking his own truth to the fullest extent that he can. And you would gladly help him with those things – if only he would just admit to it more often.

who gets more jealous?: Honestly, the both of you tend to display traces of jealousy. Even though Bruce has put his playboy days behind him, labels are sticky and therefore are difficult to shake loose. As a result, some women still haven’t quite gotten the picture that he’s perfectly happy in a committed relationship with you. And honestly, you try to remember that last part. You really do. But when you accompany Bruce to a gala and see those socialites gathering around him, smiling with those pearly whites and fluttering their mascara-caked lashes as they press their breasts against his arm in ways so obvious that a person on the other side of the room could feel them . . . you just can’t help it! Thankfully, Bruce is pretty good at reading you and can essentially sense your frustration. He has no qualms with calmly excusing himself from the women’s presence to take you elsewhere.

This calm and collected appearance also accompanies Bruce when he’s the one experiencing jealousy, though it’s far less amicable. Unless you were originally a part of Gotham’s elite, it’s very unlikely that you’re familiar with these sorts of events. This sort of innocence coupled with how dolled up you look tends to make you catch the eyes of sleazy attendants whom Bruce is all too willing to keep you out of reach of. Unfortunately, with the crowds and people constantly stopping Bruce or pulling him to the side to talk or be interviewed or establish a business connection, it would only been a matter of time before the two of you became separated. Almost immediately, like piranhas to an unsuspecting animal, the previously mentioned sleazeballs would approach you, offering you drinks, eyeballing you as one eyeballs a tender porterhouse steak.

Thankfully, this predicament doesn’t last long – the shadow of your towering boyfriend is cast upon them, brightened by the glint of his smile (which you almost swear has a sort of menacing hint to it). Once the pests bug off, Bruce takes extra care to assure that you don’t venture too far away from where he can see you and make sure that you aren’t getting harassed.

The truth of the matter is that while many may consider Bruce to be a catch, he places your value above his own. He’s grown too accustomed to your presence to suddenly be without it. And even though he knows you’d never go for any one of these creepy, arrogant asshats, some part of him still fears the possibility of you somehow uncovering somebody better than him. Which brings us to . . .

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?: All things considered, you. Bruce is a difficult man to be with, even without taking his moonlighting job into account. On his own, he’s an often aloof, very busy man who’s developed a bit of a drinking problem over the years. But then you add in the fact that he’s the Bat of Gotham and everything gets a lot more complex: The long hours, constantly keeping secrets “for your safety”, the fact that your life is now even more in danger than what it already was by just being with a billionaire . . . It could be overwhelming for anybody. Dating a vigilante, no matter their abilities or resources, is not for everybody. And the sad truth is that if it ever gets to a certain point, it may prove not to be for you.

who will propose?: Bruce does. Honestly, deep down he sort of wishes you would, but he also understands that he doesn’t exactly communicate “I want to genuinely settle down with somebody and I want that somebody to be you”, what with his philanderer past still wisping about on his association (plus, being a vigilante who honestly can die at any moment does little for your confidence in his desire to wed). However, you’d be surprised to find that marriage is something Bruce has thought about more than you assumed. Certainly, the two of you had discussed it before, but never to the extent that Bruce implies he’s been thinking on it for.

He wants to connect your name with his, to show the world who he’s with and vice-versa, but on a level that states commitment more than moving out to his place in the middle of nowhere could. On top of this, from a slightly more business standpoint, Bruce just wants to make sure that you’re taken care of in the event of his death. As soon as the events involving Steppenwolf have been settled, he wastes no time getting ready to pop the question. The only thing stopping him from marching right up to you, still damp from the much-needed shower, and bluntly going, “Marry me? I nearly died today and maybe it’s the adrenaline still in my system but I just really think now’s the time to tie this down” is that Alfred dragged him to the side for a talking to. (Though, if such a brusque proposal is more your bag, you can fuss at Alfred’s sabotage later.)

What he winds up going for is renting one of the finest restaurants on this side of the Gotham-Metropolis Bay just for the two of you. If we’re being perfectly frank here, a man with Bruce’s financial status could easily afford to do a lot more for his proposal. Sometimes showy like establishing an entire festival in your honor. But he doesn’t: He just wants to keep it as simple as possible, as intimate as he can. Besides, he’s honestly still a little sore from Russia; he can’t have the paparazzi or other prying eyes looking in on such a life-changing moment, now can he? You initially think that maybe this is a celebratory dinner, considering the mission was a success and he didn’t die. However, this makes you wonder why he’s not spending it with the newly found group; after all, all you were able to do was assist in the Batcave here and there, pose as a superior-than-Bruce host. Little things. So why was he spending this with you – Oh.

As Bruce lowered himself down to one knee before you, you finally understood why the only person he wanted to be with after the incident was you.

You’re not sure how the news was able to spread to fast (maybe somebody Snapchatted from the kitchen), but you frankly didn’t care. Not when a small group of cameramen and women gathered outside of the eatery and began barking questions at the two of you, not when the engagement was suggested as a rumor by that evening’s late-night talk show, not when your coworkers gathered around you asking if it was true the next time you came into work.

All you needed to show was the ring on your finger. Martha Wayne’s ring had been mangled in the heat of the fire that consumed Wayne Manor, but Bruce couldn’t bring himself to part with it. But luckily, by combining it with a newer metal and placing the newly conceived ring on the finger of his fiancée, it appeared he’d never have to part with neither the heirloom or you.

who has the most difficult parents?: Yikes.

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public?: You do. Bruce doesn’t mind light PDA, he just doesn’t really initiate it unless it’s at a gala (“Gotta feed the damn paparazzi,” he mutters, though he won’t deny enjoying the contact with you). You like holding his big, calloused hand. It makes you feel nice and safe.

who hogs the blankets?: You do. Bruce is a big, walking bag of heat and often sleeps in next to nothing – a ballsy move for somebody living in a house that’s 98% glass. As such, the covers are typically all yours, something which you take full advantage of.

who gets more sad?: Both of you do, but it’s easier to tell with you. You haven’t trained yourself to express an air of calm the way Bruce has; even when you try to hide the feelings of dread and worry that you bottle up every time Bruce goes out on patrols, or displays mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion, the man can tell that they’re there. But Bruce is the one actually enduring these things, and he’s been going through them for a long, long while. By the time of the events surrounding his battle with Superman, Bruce was essentially depressed at the notion that all of his work towards a better, brighter future had been for naught. However, he doesn’t translate his sadness very well; usually it comes out in the form of aggression, the most of which he takes out on perpetrators.

who is better at cheering the other up?: It’s kind of weird between the two of you but to anyone who knows Bruce, they would be able to tell that you make him feel a whole lot better than what he normally would be. He doesn’t smile a whole lot for one reason or another, but sometimes just hearing you talk about your day as though you belong to a normal relationship, or seeing you wiggle around in one of his button downs (of which you drown in) is enough to crack a smirk out of him. And let’s be real: A smirk to Bruce is like a huge grin on regular people.

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?: You don’t really slap him when he makes a joke, either because Bruce’s joke are silly but in a different way or just because it’s not really in your nature to. You prefer to squeeze his arm instead.

who is more streetwise?: Bruce. Don’t let his status as the Prince of Gotham fool you – this man has had to learn all that he could about seedy urban underbellies. The man attends underground fight rings for God’s sake!

who is more wise?: You are, at least in the way that you take more time to consider all the options or potential circumstances. Bruce is mighty gung-ho for a man his age.

who’s the shyest?: Definitely you! It was a wonder you were even able to talk when you first met Bruce. You’ve gotten a bit better, but you still have a slight tendency to cling close or even try to hide behind him whenever he’s approached by other high society figures. He doesn’t mind it much and actually finds it quite cute. He just worries that this will make you even more easy to be taken advantage of.

who boasts about the other more?: Bruce does, though not often. It’s not that he isn’t proud of you (far from it; the man simply adores you), it’s just that he prefers to keep his private life exactly that: Private. This may be ironic considering that the man has a history for flaunting himself and that his decision to reconstruct a home resulted in a house made out of glass but remember: That glass house is in the woods, way out of city limits. Even when being showy, there’s an air of limitation to how much people get. Plus, it’s not as though there are many opportunities for Bruce to bring you up within reasonable conversation: The League keeps in contact regularly (in fact, Arthur seems to prefer communicating with you than with Bruce, much to the latter’s ire), leaving no real reason for him to bring you up to them. And Alfred already sees you as his daughter-in-law before marriage is even considered as a possibility; in short, he doesn’t need Bruce to boast about you, he’s practically trying to sell you to Bruce as a worthy mate.

At most, this sort of situation will likely pop up during conferences or when Bruce is meeting with CEOs from other companies looking to partner up with Wayne Enterprises. Maybe during lunch or dinner, some of the honchos will talk about their women at home, maybe jab a joke or two at her expense. But when Bruce is asked about you, he keeps it brief but makes it very clear that he has no intention of making jokes about you. How could he when he finds that there’s so much more to crow about? He’s got a devoted woman who loves him for him, who makes him smile, who makes coming home a lot easier and life less lonely.

“Plus, I’m pretty sure she could cook a better blackened catfish than this,” he chews thoughtfully before popping another piece into his mouth. And that was the end of that. If he had less control over himself, he just might’ve gone on a bit more about you, but frankly he wants to be out of this thing and back home to you as soon as possible.

who sits on who’s lap?: Bruce is a 6’3” pile of muscle and meat: I sincerely hope you don’t plan on having this man basically terminate you lap by sitting on it. But in all seriousness, this man loves having you sit on his lap, especially after a long day at work when he can just wind down and breathe for a little while. (Plus, on a naughtier note, it really plays into his daddy kink if the mood is just right.)

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader headcanons #bruce wayne headcanons #batman x reader #batman imagine #batman x reader headcanons #regrettablewritings #ship meme #dceu imagines #dceu imagine #bruce wayne imagines #batman imagines #bvs imagine #bvs imagines #justice league imagine #justice league imagines #character hc meme

300 notes · View notes

princesskennarys · 6 years

Text

Can we talk about how much the Endless Summer characters have changed?

I’m going to do this character by character - they all have so much depth to them.

1. Michelle Nguyen: She started off as ‘Maybelline’, the stereotypical popular, annoying sorority sister. She’s whiny and clingy, and apparently pursuing Sean. Now, she’s revealed to be a smart, innovative, ambitious pre-med student, who’s resourceful and sassy without losing any of her femininity - she’s completely badass in her heavy makeup :)

2. Craig Hsiao: Perceived as a big, kind of stupid Football Bro. Thuggish, bullying, very stereotypical. Now, he’s perceived as strong and smart, loyal to a fault, but also with deep insecurities about who he is. He’s also shown to have real emotion and can tug at heartstrings easily.

3. Zahra Namazi: Initially, she’s cynical, sarcastic and punk - again with the stereotypes! She’s heartless and cold, thinks the world is beneath her, etc. While she retains the qualities that make her uniquely Zahra, she shows intelligence and resourcefulness, as well as caring deeply about the rest of the group.

4. Grace Hall: A shy nerdy girl. Clearly insecure about herself, but she’s shown to have a fierce temper and is actually incredibly brave and strong enough to stand up for herself against even those she loves - and all this while retaining the personality we grew to love at the beginning of Endless Summer.

5. Jake McKenzie: Stereotypical ‘don’t give a fuck’ bad boy, condescending, kind of an asshole. Turns out Jake is actually just a scared boy who had lost everything and had forgotten how to love. And - honestly, if we’re being honest, he’s actually an adorable dork.

6. Estela Montoya: Pegged ‘mysterious’ from the very beginning, and is introduced as an absolute badass. She still is all of that, but some of her icy exterior has begun to melt and she’s super sweet and soft - and, of course, still a total badass. But her personality is so much more than that cold, revenge-driven girl we met at the beginning - she learns to love and obviously genuinely cares about the group and about MC.

7. Diego Soto: Originally, he’s the Gay Best Friend, and that’s about it. But the storyline’s given him a strong, caring personality of his own, not to mention a compelling LI arc of his own with Varyyn. He’s shown to be loyal, brave and strong in his own right.

8. Aleister Rourke: Cold, aloof, snobbish. Okay, to be fair, he’s still kind of those things, but he’s changed a hell of a lot since then. Obviously, Aleister’s a controversial character, but he’s a good person, really - I think he’s like the Draco Malfoy of the series and is just misled. With him, we see a lot of conflict and he does, deep down, care about the group of misfits from his college.

9. Quinn Kelly: On the surface, she’s quiet and soft and sweet - and of course, she is all of those things, but Quinn is nothing short of a warrior. She may be sweet and feminine, but she has a core of iron. Since she was a child she’s been battling her Rotterdam’s, and while it took a toll on both her mental and physical health she’s now stronger than ever and ready to take on the world and live the life she deserves with the people she cares about.

10. Sean Gayle: Seems like a stereotypical golden boy. Smart, attractive and athletic, he seems like a character we’ve read about before - but that boy is shown to have so much in him. He’s always been responsible, but now we get to see the extent of that responsibility - Sean carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He loves too hard and will fight for what he believes in.

Basically, these guys are amazing. They fight all their stereotypes and every single character has grown into a strong and brave person. And yeah, I’d personally die for any of them.

#playchoices #endless summer #es #jake mckenzie #sean gayle #quinn kelly #estela montoya #choices stories you play

1K notes · View notes

nao-hime · 7 years

Text

My White Knight || Byakuya Togami x Reader

A/N: To explain the plot rather quickly: The reader and Byakuya have been engaged since childhood; unbeknownst to the reader, she is not meant to be his single dedicated wife, but simply one of his concubines. According to the wiki, it is tradition for a Togami head to have one wife, but to have multiple children with the “highest quality women” there is. And the reader is just an experiment, to see what kind of child she might produce for him.

These are basically a collection of letters that the reader wrote but never sent to Byakuya, and each one is connected to a certain memory shared with him.

Ah, and to explain something else: Byakuya means “white night”, so the use of “white knight” is just a play on words. I thought it was interesting. ^-^

Dear My White Knight,

I think today’s meeting went really well! I’ve known that we’ve been engaged since three, but we never knew each other. I’ve always been really excited about meeting you, but at the same time I was nervous. So I hope you liked me. Well, that sounds awkward, but I just know that this engagement will never work out if we don’t like each other. I know this is simply because of business and nothing more, but if anything…I hope we can fall in love one day. I’m a sucker for fairy tales, and I want to meet my own White Knight. Is it cheesy that I already think you’re my White Knight? Probably.

When do you think we can meet again? We might be kids, but who ever made it a rule that kids can’t go on dates?

Yours Truly,

Love,

Sincerely,

(Y/n) (L/n)

You bit your lower lip shyly, gnawing on the slightly bruised flesh. It was a bad habit you had developed, one your parents often scolded you for. According to them, it wasn’t ladylike and was unbecoming of an heiress to such a famous company. They had such high expectations of you—they even believed that you would attend Hope’s Peak Academy, a prestigious government funded school. The last thing you wanted to do was disappoint your parents, so you worked your hardest to appease them, even at the young age of seven.

Let’s just say your childhood was not a normal one.

“Stop fidgeting so much,” your father reprimanded you, sending a sharp glare in your direction. You grinned sheepishly in response.

“Sorry, Father.”

Your mother raised a hand to her forehead, squinting as she observed something—more specifically, someone. “Oh, there they are. Kijo Togami and his young son, Byakuya.”

You followed her gaze to the pair of individuals in the distance. An incredibly tall man with a young boy who appeared like a midget in comparison. Both had blonde hair and striking blue eyes—they also shared the same impassive expressions that betrayed no emotion. As the two drew closer, your heart began hammering in your chest until you were sure it would leave bruising against your ribcage.

There he was. Byakuya Togami, the man you were betrothed to.

Well, more like the boy you were betrothed to. Neither of you were adults yet.

Even at your young age, you knew he would be your White Knight.

Your father promptly shook Kijo’s hand, flashing a charming smile before introducing his wife and yourself. He kept wearing that smile even as Kijo conveyed little to no emotion in his own face.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Togami-sama,” your mother greeted, bowing politely, as Kijo had not extended his own hand to shake hers. She turned to you, pressing her lips together. “(Y/n), introduce yourself.” Her tone was firm and harsh; but she didn’t need to tell you twice.

You mimicked her own bow, rather clumsily though, which caused both of your parents to groan internally. “My name is (Y/n) (L/n). It’s very nice to meet you, Togami-sama.” You were rather awkward, despite always taking social classes from your personal butler, and you were never the most sophisticated girl around.

But now that you had met Byakuya, you really wanted to impress him. You would do whatever it took to satisfy him as much as you satisfied your parents. Or, at least tried to satisfy your parents.

When Byakuya turned his narrowed gaze at you, a shred of emotion cut through the mask assembled over his face. Some emotion you couldn’t recognized flashed across his face for the briefest of moments before quickly being repaired. Although, there was less apathy in his new expression, and a much more obvious cold demeanor.

“Byakuya Togami,” he said aloofly. He remained in his pose—arms folded across his chest and nose slightly tilted in the air. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

Even though you could tell that he was lying through his teeth, even though he clearly held no respect for you or your family, you were utterly impressed by him. You wanted to be the best wife you could be for him. After all, Kijo had agreed to marry you to his son. That alone was quite a feat—and you were one of the clumsiest people you knew, both physically and mentally!

Honestly, if you had never met Byakuya Togami, you probably would never have changed for the better.

Dear My White Knight,

Today was my first day of middle school. I’m pretty sure you already knew that, because you’re attending the same school too, but I thought it was a good conversational starter. It’s been a few years since I last wrote you a note, after all. I just wanted to thank you. But I didn’t know how to bring it up.

I’m not very good at socialization. You already know that. And yet you accept me for who I am. Well, mostly…I know I annoy you, and I’m really sorry for that, but I just can’t help it.

Really, I’m truly sorry if I disappoint you. I disappoint my parents too. But you’re the reason I keep pushing forward.

Best Wishes,

(Y/n) (L/n)

It seemed like at every milestone in your life, you were always extremely nervous and ecstatic at the same time.

Prior to this, you had always had private tutoring. Your parents had wanted the best for you, after all. But it soon became clear to them that they were wasting their money, and they instead decided to enroll you in middle school. This was a fact that saddened you—you had been unable to appease them—but you hoped that by complying to their wishes obediently, they would regain whatever faith they had lost.

You didn’t have any siblings. You didn’t have any friends. They were the only ones you had. If you lost them because of being a failure, you weren’t sure what you would do.

Because if you lost them, you would be unable to see Byakuya, and he was the main reason you even pushed forward.

You knew that probably sounded rather strange, but it was the truth; Byakuya, despite his arrogant and reserved manner, was someone you looked up to. He fulfilled his father’s desires, and he made it look so effortlessly. Others might see him as an asshole, but you knew that there was someone underneath that cold, blunt exterior. There was a reason for that attitude of his.

If you were to be his wife, you needed to be there for him. Since you couldn’t really do anything else correctly, you would at least do your best to be an excellent wife. After all, nurturing and housework was more of your forte; not business and numbers. This much was proven in your private sessions, where you would often mess up at math and mock negotiations.

“You’re too easy to read,” your butler would inform you, glaring at your slackened posture and casual speech pattern. “And you didn’t even calculate these numbers correctly! Anyone could crush you in a negotiation.”

To which you merely hung your head and quickly corrected your errors.

Frankly, if it weren’t for Byakuya’s influence, you probably would’ve given up long ago.

The two of you met each other every two months, just to discuss your marriage and possibly learn more about each other. Byakuya always appeared disgusted by your lack of skill and your rather irritating personality. It had taken you quite a while to get him to warm up to you. Others might not see it, but you knew he had definitely warmed up to you.

You were proud of yourself—it had only taken you four years to get to that point!

It was obvious to you when this change had happened. At one particular meeting, you had brought along textbooks, notebooks, all sorts of things your parents wanted you working on twenty-four-seven. They expected nothing less of you, and you did not want to disappoint. So you brought these along. You felt a bit guilty, considering you should probably be focusing more on your work than your betrothed, but since Byakuya didn’t really care what you did, you supposed he wouldn’t mind just this once.

The two of you sat in silence on a park bench, since there wasn’t much else two eleven-year olds could do on a private date.

“You’re doing that wrong.”

You didn’t even look up to reply to him, mainly because you hadn’t heard a single word he said. You were too immersed in the work you were apparently doing wrong to even answer.

“Are you deaf or something? I told you you’re doing that wrong.”

You jerked your head up at the sudden voice. You were surprised that he was able to read your tiny, scrunched up handwriting. That was another thing your butler was annoyed by—the fact that your handwriting was barely legible. In most of your lessons with him, he would spend a half hour trying to teach you how to properly write, which never succeeded.

“Hm? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” You chuckled and rubbed the back of your head. You scooted closer to him on the park bench, not noticing when he flinched. “What am I doing wrong? Can you show me how to fix it? Oh, and can you look over everything else too?”

Byakuya sighed in exasperation, rolling his blue eyes that you admired so much. “Fine.”

You couldn’t hold down the smile that stretched across your face. You resisted the urge to throw your arms around him—you knew how much he detested physical contact—and merely exclaimed, “Thank you so much, Togami-kun!”

The two of you addressed each other by your surnames, though Byakuya was much more aloof when he addressed you. He also didn’t like being addressed so casually, so for the longest time, you only called him ‘Togami-san’. You were pleasantly surprised when you experimented a bit and switched the honorific to ‘-kun’, and he did not chastise you. In fact, it seemed to soften how he treated you overall. Of course, he still only addressed you by your last name without any honorifics, but you didn’t mind. You both were the same age, so it wasn’t considered as intimate, but you liked to pretend that it was.

That meeting, you had spent hours working hard on the work your parents had delivered upon you. Unsurprisingly, there were many mistakes you had made, but Byakuya swiftly corrected them with ease. You tried your hardest to pay attention and learn what exactly you had done wrong, but you were honestly too distracted by your awe of him to really focus.

By the time you two were meant to part ways, all of your work had been completed. You tucked the papers and books under your arm, and beamed once again at Byakuya.

“Once again, thank you so much, Togami-kun!” you said gratefully, bowing. If you had one thing going for you, it was that your bows had improved greatly over the years—though they were still not top notch. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I’m honestly quite useless on my own, hehe…”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “Maybe the reason you’re so terrible at this is because you tell yourself that.” When you tilted your head to the side in confusion, Byakuya groaned. “Do I really have to spell it out? I’m saying that by telling yourself you’re useless, you’ll only become useless. Personal beliefs affect work performance, after all.”

Even though you had still been confused by his explanation, you continued to bombard him with many thanks until he had departed in the limousine sent for him.

It wasn’t until you had reached home that you realized what he meant. And that was when you decided that you would push forward so that Byakuya would never have to help you again.

Dear My White Knight,

I’ve been really slacking on these letters, huh? I tend to forget about them because I’m so swamped by work. I don’t know how you handle it all, because Togami Corporation has twice the work we do! But I guess that makes you all the more impressive.

This is just another thank-you letter that I couldn’t figure out how to start. I’ve never kissed anyone before. You were my first. Oh, but I’m not thanking you because I now have a first kiss. I’m thanking you because you were the one who kissed me.

Sincerely yours,

(Y/n) (L/n)

“Winter is really pretty, isn’t it? I like all of the snow. I don’t like the cold, though…But if there’s one benefit to the cold, it’s that couples can cuddle together and warm up.” You glanced up hopefully at the much taller male.

Over the past few years, you both had changed drastically, but Byakuya had changed the most. He shot straight up and didn’t stop until he was fifteen, where he was a whopping six foot one. You had stopped growing at twelve, honestly. And now the two of you were sixteen.

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “We’re not cuddling.”

“But we never do anything romantic…” you whined, pouting your lips. Now that you were sixteen, you wanted to share more physical actions with Byakuya. Holding hands, cuddling, kissing. But he hated touching others, and this hatred extended to you as well. Perhaps you were being annoying, but you were actually quite craving the chance to kiss Byakuya. Although, you could act more mature; even you knew that. “I’ll even settle for holding hands. We’re a couple, after all. We should act like one!”

“We don’t need to act like a couple until we’re married,” Byakuya argued calmly.

“How will you ever get used to it if you don’t practice? Let me show you—“ You moved to slip your hand into his, but he snatched his hand away. A pang of hurt punched you straight in the chest, but what he said next only made it worse.

“Have you ever thought that I might not want to touch you?”

Anger and hostility swam in his blue eyes, glaring daggers into you. You shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself, but you weren’t sure if it was due to the cold or simply Byakuya’s harsh demeanor. You averted your gaze to the ground, attempting to hide the tears that pooled in them. Byakuya had never yelled at you before. He didn’t even raise his voice. He was always so cool and composed.

So the fact that he said something like that so cruelly only wounded you more.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Togami-kun,” you apologized, sniffling and swiping at your eyes. More tears replaced the ones you wiped away, though. “I’m sorry for being annoying, and a failure, and a disappointment. My parents think that too, a-and I’ll do anything to make you feel better.”

“(L/n).”

“I-I’ll stop bothering you about doing couple-y stuff and romance and everything because y-you don’t want to touch me—“

“(L/n).”

You didn’t hear him through your blubbering. All of your defenses had crumbled. Your mask of cheerfulness and complacency snapped, opening the floodgates of thousands of tears. Rivers poured down your face, almost instantly becoming cold thanks to the temperature. You hastily attempted to fix up your appearance, as you were sure you looked absolutely hideous, but your hands were trembling too much to remain steady.

Your eyes flew open when you felt a sudden weight against your lips and hands gripping the sides of your shoulders. You were immediately silenced by your shock.

Byakuya was kissing you.

Byakuya, who hated physical contact. Byakuya, who was normally so cold and reserved. Byakuya, who said he didn’t want to touch you.

This was your first kiss. It wasn’t the ideal one—you were crying, salty tears burned the kiss, and you were quickly running out of oxygen—but it was perfect.

It wasn’t long before Byakuya withdrew, letting out a small gasp of air. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, which was coated in your tears, while you merely blushed. You weren’t embarrassed about him wiping away the tears; you were still in shock at Byakuya’s kiss.

“Wh-Why…?” was all you could say.

Byakuya sighed and closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean to say that. You were just pressuring me and I snapped at you out of frustration.” Then, he opened his eyes and looked sternly at you. “You don’t like being pressured by your parents, right? So why would you pressure me to do something I don’t want to do?”

You hung your head. The ecstasy of the kiss was quickly washed away by guilt and disappointment at his words. He was right; it was wrong of you to do the very thing to him that your parents did to you. You were nothing more than a hypocrite.

“I’m sorry, Togami-kun.”

“Stop apologizing, it’s ann—“ Byakuya took a deep breath to cut himself off. “You did nothing wrong. It was my fault.”

After that, the two of you walked in silence until it was time for you to leave. On the car ride home, you could not stop smiling.

“Why are you smiling so much?” your butler asked, as if it was against the law to smile.

“No reason. I’m just really happy.”

Dear My White Knight,

This is actually the soonest I’ve ever written a letter. The first two letters were four years apart, and this one is only a few months later from the third one! That’s a new record for me. I hope I can keep it up.

I don’t know if you do, but I always think about our kiss. I know it was probably to shut me up or something, but there’s a part of me that believes it was real. That you did it because you care about me.

But what do I know? There’s no reason for me to believe that. After all, arranged marriages rarely involve love, and you seem pretty rigid when it comes to tradition. So maybe it was just a spur of the moment thing? Who knows?

But I digress. Whether or not the kiss had any feeling in it, now I know that you truly do care about me, even if you aren’t aware.

Always in my thoughts,

(Y/n) (L/n)

Neither of you mentioned the kiss ever again.

It was like some sort of unspoken agreement not to bring it up. Even though you yearned to talk about it, craved the knowledge of whether he cared about you or not, you never had the nerve to ask Byakuya. You were partly afraid that the truth would be much harsher than the fantasy. So you decided to just keep your question to yourself, and continue weaving yourself beautiful lies so that you wouldn’t have to face the painful truth.

Because neither of you wanted to talk about it, you acted as if it had never taken place. As if there hadn’t been an argument or any cruel words thrown. It kind of hurt, to know that Byakuya wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, but he still spent time with you, so you supposed you could recover. After all, you might have another kiss with him—though, you hoped it wouldn’t be as wet. And you hoped that it would be much more romantic.

“Which movie do you want to watch?” you asked Byakuya, who was staring at a list of possible movies. The two of you had decided to change things up a bit. After all, for the past nine years, you’ve only been going to the park for your meetings. Rather tedious, if you must say. It was your suggestion to watch a movie or something, but Byakuya agreed to it—quite swiftly. So you supposed that he was getting bored of the same thing as well.

After what had happened involving the kiss, you were much more respectful of Byakuya’s opinion. You knew it had been wrong of you to insist upon physical contact, and actually felt quite guilty about it. Byakuya never pressured you for anything—mostly because there probably wasn’t anything you could give. But you still appreciated the fact that he, unlike the people surrounding you, did not pressure you. So you matured in order to respect Byakuya.

Besides, he was right. You couldn’t be a child anymore; you were about to be an adult.

He had told you this a few weeks after the kiss, when you asked if the two of you could play a game together.

“We’re not children anymore, (L/n). It’s time to grow up and act like adults.” When you opened your mouth to protest, he promptly continued, “What are you going to do when we have kids?”

Byakuya became very annoyed when you broke out in a wide smile at his comment.

You were only sixteen, but you liked the thought of having kids with Byakuya. All sorts of questions swirled in your mind when you thought about your future with him.

Would they take after him, or me? Would they be a perfect blend of both? Who would they act more like? Would we play games together as a family?

You had never thought about having a family more than you do now.

“I don’t care,” Byakuya informed you, shrugging. “As long as it’s not a romance.”

Byakuya knew what a strong effect romance had on you, and how it influenced your actions. You often indulged yourself in the romance genre to appease your desire, and to make up for the fact that you had little to no romance in your own life. Honestly, the most romance you ever had was when Byakuya kissed you. But he never talked about it now.

You wouldn’t be surprised if you were in some sort of romantic drama. Like a soap opera of sorts. Although with less romance and drama.

…So maybe not a soap opera. You didn’t have the most exciting life, after all.

“Okay! Why don’t we, um…” You tapped your chin thoughtfully, narrowing your eyes as you scrutinized the selection. “Why don’t we go with a horror movie? I’ve always wanted to see one.”

The few times you did go to the movies, it was with your butler, and he always chose the movies. You had seen so many documentaries in your lifetime, it wasn’t even funny. So you really wanted to experience something else.

Byakuya sneered, “Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Yep! Otherwise I wouldn’t have picked it.”

Byakuya rolled his eyes and left to go purchase the tickets. Meanwhile, you seated yourself on a bench not too far away. You couldn’t enter the cinema until you had tickets, because this was a rather prestigious movie theater.

You had no idea movie theaters could be prestigious.

You turned your head at the creaking of the bench, and noticed that a man had sat down beside you. He looked just a few years older than you. A lustful smile was etched into his slightly red face, and he draped his arms across the edge of the bench. You wrinkled your nose in disgust, but gave a polite smile before turning your head away. He reeked of alcohol, and you were positive he was intoxicated.

“Hey, there.”

You stiffened, but didn’t say anything. You kept an eye out for Byakuya, hoping that he would come back, but you couldn’t see him anywhere.

How could you not find the six foot one male?! He literally towered over everyone!

“I’m talking to you, lady,” the man said harshly, scooting closer. You scooted away, but groaned internally when your waist hit the bench arm. He just kept coming closer until he was but a few inches away from you. “I think you’re really, really pretty, and we should catch a movie.”

“Sorry. I’m with someone.”

“With who? I don’t see anyone.” The man grinned eagerly at his flawless logic. Note the sarcasm.

“He’s buying us tickets.” You emphasized ‘he’s’ so that this jerk would get the hint and leave you alone. But life was never easy, was it?

“I think that we should catch a movie and head back to my place,” the man suggested, his words incredibly slurred so that you could barely understand him. “After all, we might need to warm up since it’s winter…”

You grimaced, but widened your eyes when someone snatched your hand and pulled you to your feet. You looked up to see Byakuya, glaring at the man with resentful eyes. Honestly, you had never seen Byakuya this angry, not even when he had yelled at you before kissing you. After all, he was extremely skilled at remaining cool and collected. So it was rather intimidating to see such rage twisting his face.

“I bought us the tickets,” Byakuya said, voice seething with indignation. He didn’t look at you at all; he kept glowering at the man who attempted to flirt with you. “Let’s go, (Y/n).”

You felt heat rise to your face despite the cold temperature. You were absolutely positive that a crimson blush stained your cheeks.

Byakuya had just addressed you by your given name.

Even if it was just to get this jerk off your back, it still made you blush profusely and your heart flutter. Calling someone by their given name was a rather intimate thing, even for close friends. Usually, only girls would do that for each other and then add the “-chan” honorific.

Yes, you were a couple, but Byakuya had never displayed any intimate actions or behavior. So this was rather strange. But pleasantly surprising.

You let out a small yelp when Byakuya spun on his heel and tugged you away. He was walking at a brisk pace, one that was difficult for you to keep up with, considering he was much taller than you. Eventually, you managed to match his long strides by taking quick, shorter ones, and you were soon right at his side.

“Byak—“ You cut yourself off. You didn’t want to assume that you were allowed to call him by his first name just because he had addressed you by yours. You corrected yourself, “Togami-kun, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I hate people like that. They get drunk during the day and then mess with other people.”

When you looked up, you saw a light blush dusting his own cheeks, and that the anger was still seeping through the cracks in his mask.

You already knew how he really felt.

Dear My White Knight,

Today, my heart was broken. And you were the one who broke it.

How could you lie to me after all these years? Was it fun for you? To string me along, just to watch me crumble? I trusted you. I looked up to you. You were the entire reason I even did my best! Hell, I think I even loved you!

But now I don’t know what to do with myself. The one person who I loved, the one person who didn’t pressure me to be something I wasn’t, was just using me for their own personal pleasure. For something you call a tradition! That’s just sick!

Do you do this to everyone you meet?

Was I just an experiment to you? Or did I actually mean something to you?

(Y/n) (L/n)

Three years later, after learning that Byakuya really did care about you, that belief was promptly stamped out by your discovery.

You didn’t even remember how you found out. All you remember is feeling utter rage rise inside of you like a red wave. It bubbled underneath the surface of your skin, yearning to be free but was completely restrained.

You didn’t want to believe it.

You didn’t want to believe that you were one of Byakuya’s many fiancées.

Apparently, it was a tradition for the head of the Togami family to bear multiple children with various women—women of the highest caliber. Women that were clearly not you.

Which hurt you ever more.

The fact that you weren’t considered high quality meant you were merely an experiment—to see what kind of children you would produce—hurt the most. You didn’t want to be an experiment, and definitely didn’t want to produce children because you were an experiment. Then they wouldn’t be conceived out of love, but simply experimentation.

No, that wasn’t what hurt the most. It was the fact that you had started to fall for Byakuya Togami, and you believed that he returned those feelings, only to learn that you were nothing more but ‘another fiancée.’

That was why you called him to your house, even though it was not time for your monthly meeting. (You had changed them from every two months to once every month) You had many questions. You wanted many answers.

How many women are there? How long have they been there? Were they the reason you never wanted to touch me? Did you love them? Did you love me at all?

Each question would hurt for you to ask them. But you needed to know the answers.

When Byakuya rang the doorbell, you smoothed out your clothing, feigning complete composure, and answered the door. You didn’t smile when you greeted him, and you noticed that skepticism flashed across his face when that happened. He already knew something was wrong, because you always equipped a smile when you greeted him.

You led him to the living room silently, keeping a straight posture the entire time. You gestured to one of the couches, indicating that he could sit down, and then sat down vertical of him. You folded your hands in your lap and crossed your legs. Byakuya folded his arms across his chest and crossed his own legs, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s going on?” he asked, blunt as ever.

“I don’t think you have the right to ask me that,” you retorted coolly, causing Byakuya to reel back a bit at your callous tone. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“And why is that exactly?”

You glared at him. For the first time since you had met Byakuya, you glared at him. Even Byakuya was shocked by your actions, but he waited patiently for an answer.

“Because I’m just a tool to you.” Byakuya widened his eyes, and you knew that he knew what you were referring to. He opened his mouth, but you cut him off. “Don’t even try to explain yourself. How can you possibly try to defend yourself when I’m the victim?”

“(L/n)—“

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it.” You had no idea how you were so calm. Was this what happened when people were angry? They tempered their anger with a calm disposition? You had no idea. You had never been truly angry in your life, mainly because you were always so focused on getting better.

Byakuya had been the reason you wanted to improve so much. At first, it had been about appeasing your parents’ wishes. But then you wanted to be the best person you could be for Byakuya. And now all of that was gone.

Was that why he had encouraged you to be better when you were eleven? To see if a normal, average, failure like you could possibly be successful?

The very thought alone made your throat constrict.

“How many women are there?” you asked after swallowing the lump in your throat. Byakuya was silent at first, so you repeated, “How many women are there?”

“Fifteen,” he mumbled shamefully. He couldn’t even meet your eyes. You pressed your lips together and clenched your fists until the skin turned white.

Fifteen? There were fifteen other women, including yourself? Nausea coiled in your gut, but you would not back down. You needed answers.

“How long have they been there?”

“As long as I’ve been engaged to you.”

You spat, “So all of them have been engaged to you?”

Byakuya nodded. You could feel the crescent-shaped indents being dug into your palms at this rate.

You dealt out questions, demanding answers from your fiancée sitting across from you. He answered them promptly, unable to look at you, and eventually shifted his position so that he was leaning forward with his hands folded in front of him. His legs were no longer crossed, and his head was hung like a scolded dog. You had never seen Byakuya like this.

But you had never expected him to do something so cruel as this.

You took a deep breath as you prepared your final question.

“Did you love me at all?”

Byakuya snapped his head up, staring at you in shock. His mouth was slightly agape, but he wasn’t saying anything.

“(L/n)…I…”

You fought back the tears that so desperately wanted to come out. You stood up and pointed to the door. “That answers my question. Please get out before I have someone escort you.”

“(L/n)—“

“Get out!” you screamed at him. Byakuya did not hesitate in standing up and making a beeline towards the door. You turned around and began sobbing, unable to hold the facade of composure any longer.

Was this what it was like to have a broken heart?

If so, you never wanted to fall in love again.

Dear My White Knight,

I can’t believe you did that for me. I can’t believe you went against your parents for me. I mean, I couldn’t believe that you would do such a horrible thing, but this is even harder to believe. Togami Corporation meant everything to you! And you were ready to throw it away for a failure like me.

I don’t know what to say except…I love you.

Love,

(Y/n) (L/n)

You ignored every email and phone call from him for the next few days. You wanted nothing to do with him. You couldn’t stand to even read his name, because it hurt you too much. If you went out in public, you would see his name scrawled across the top of a magazine. So to prevent the agony that crushed your heart between its fingers, you just remained indoors, focusing entirely on your work.

You didn’t know when you would tell your parents about this. You doubted they would really care, considering their marriage was also arranged, but neither of your parents had multiple fiancées! Neither of them knew what it was like to be one of those fiancées. So you hoped that by fulfilling their desires, they might listen to you, just this once.

You knew Byakuya would no doubt try and visit you at your house, and if your parents were home they would gladly let him in, so you told them not to answer the door if it was him. You told them you wanted to focus more on your work, because you spent too much time meeting up with him. For once, they were pleased by your answer and happily agreed.

You barely ever saw sunlight. You cooped yourself up in your room, only coming downstairs for meals. Sometimes, though, you ordered your butler to bring it upstairs. Even he could tell something was wrong, but he was unable to question you, because you were his mistress. He had to obey every order you gave.

A few times, after delivering your food, your butler would stand at the doorway, just watching you. But you would promptly order him to leave, to which he would obey.

You had no idea how long you were tirelessly working. Dark circles hung under your eyes, your entire body trembled, and your brain felt like it would explode any minute. But if you weren’t working, you were thinking, and if you were thinking, Byakuya would come into your thoughts. You didn’t want to think about him at all.

He was your White Knight, but he had broken your heart.

You were jerked awake when your phone started ringing. You had no idea when you had fallen asleep, but you had, because you had no recollection of falling asleep. You combed your messy hair with your fingers as your eyes skimmed over who was calling you. It was a close friend of yours from high school. She was one of your only friends, to be honest.

You picked up the phone, swiping your thumb across the screen to answer the call. “(Y/n) (L/n).”

“(Y/n)-chan! I haven’t heard from you in days!” she screeched, as energetic as ever. “I’ve been going to your house, but your parents keep sending me away.”

“Yeah, because I’m working.”

She gasped, a harsh noise in your ear and you were forced to pull the phone away to spare you from being deafened. “(Y/n)-chan, you never work!” She let out a huff of hair. “Fine. Today, we’re going to hang out at the park, and you can’t say no!”

“No.”

“(Y/n)-chan, please!” she whined. “Please, please, please, please—“

“Fine! God, just don’t do that…” Your friend had a thing where she would repeat ‘please’ over and over again until she got what she wanted. You loved her, but she could be a tad bit annoying.

“Yaaaay! See you later, then~” And with that, she hung up.

Later, you found yourself at the park she had requested for the two of you to meet at. It was currently autumn, so the leaves were changing from green to red, orange, yellow, and brown. Fallen leaves crunched underneath your feet, making a satisfying sound. The breeze forced a shiver out of you, and you briefly wondered why you had ever agreed to this in the first place.

“(L/n)?”

You stiffened at that voice. You wanted to turn around. You really did. But your feet seemed to be implanted into the ground. All you could do was stand there and glare at a certain blonde who made his way over to you. He stopped a few feet away from you, respecting your space.

But did that really matter? He never respected your feelings.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you demanded harshly through gritted teeth. “Are you stalking me or something—“ And then it hit you. Your friend. She had set this whole thing up just so you would be forced to meet with Byakuya.

I am having a talk with her afterwards.

“Congrats. You used my friend to lure me out here,” you spat bitterly, shoving your hands into your pockets to hide their trembling. “What do you want as a prize? My hand in marriage? You already have that. But then again, you have fifteen hands in marriage.” Normally, you were a pleasant, friendly person. But now you were callous, cold, crushed by the cruel hand of heartbreak. This must’ve been what it was like to be Byakuya Togami—minus the broken heart.

Byakuya betrayed no emotion in his face, as usual. “I just want to talk.”

“Well, then, talk. Because I’m not staying here with you any longer than I have to.” You folded your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow, waiting impatiently for him to begin.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you. I really am. It was never my choice to have fifteen fiancées.”

“That didn’t seem to stop you from stringing me along,” you interjected with a harsh, humorless laugh.

“Let me talk,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes. You pressed your lips together. Byakuya took a deep breath to calm himself. “Like I said, it was never my choice to have multiple wives. And if I did have a choice, I would’ve chosen only one of them. And I would’ve chosen you.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re probably saying that to get in my pants or something.”

“I’m being completely serious, (L/n).” Byakuya sounded so desperate, so serious, that you almost believed him for a moment. But the last time you trusted him, you had been betrayed. You didn’t want to put your heart in danger again. “(L/n), last night I went to my parents and told them to break off the other engagements. Right now, you’re my only fiancée.”

“And how can I trust you on that, Togami?” you asked, voice hoarse from the lump that choked your throat. “How do I know this isn’t another experiment? How do I know you’re not lying? How do I know that if I believe you, you won’t break my heart again?” Your voice cracked at the very end, and you shut your mouth to prevent from revealing your true emotions. You didn’t want him to know how much power he held over you.

Byakuya was silent as he dug through the bag slung over his shoulder, and you watched as he withdrew a thick stack of papers. You raised an eyebrow, trying to read the fine print, but it was too small for you to see. Byakuya offered you the stack, and you glanced at it for a moment before reluctantly taking it. You skimmed over the contents briefly, flipping through the pages, before widening your eyes when you realized what they were.

“Is this…?” You looked up at Byakuya for confirmation, who nodded.

“Those are the marriage contracts for all of my fiancées; except for you. I already told my parents I refused to marry them,” Byakuya said. “But I want you to destroy the contracts. You have that right, since you’re my fiancée, after all.”

Some part of you wanted to believe this was a fake. So that you could continue hating Byakuya. But the part of you that still loved him knew that this wasn’t fake. Besides, you had spent so many years working on contracts—you could tell this was not fake at all.

“Why me?” you whispered, afraid that if you were louder, your fragility would cause you to shatter. “Why are you doing this—for me?”

“Because I love you.”

You believed him when he said that.

And that was why you tore up the marriage contracts with your own hands.

Dear My White Knight,

It’s been two years since we made up after the incident. I don’t think that much about it anymore—mainly because it’s in the past, and I don’t want to bring up any hard feelings. Anyway, that’s not the point. It’s just hard for me to fathom the fact that two years flew by! And now we’re married.

It’s been my one dream, one desire, to marry you and be your wife. And now it has come true.

You really are my White Knight, huh?

Forever yours,

(Y/n) Togami

“Are you nervous? Are you excited? What are you gonna do once you're married? When are you going to have kids? Oh, where are you going on your honeymoon?”

You laughed at your friend’s bombardment of questions. She had that trait too—asking multiple questions at once—but hers was much more severe than yours. She bounced around you excitedly, constantly complimenting you on your appearance. You were wearing a beautiful white dress and veil for your wedding, the one you had been waiting for for so long.

Honestly, you probably wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her. She had been the one to trick you into meeting Byakuya—something you had been upset about at the time—which brought you both together again. You were eternally grateful to her. When you had asked how you could repay her, she just said, “Get married to Togami-kun.” The two of you shared a laugh over that.

“Of course I’m nervous. I’m also excited,” you admitted. “We haven’t decided on our honeymoon. And I think it’s way too early to think about kids.” Your teenage self would disagree, but you had definitely matured over the years.

She pouted at you. “Awww…Well, can I be their auntie when they are born?” She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, wearing a bright smile on her face.

You chuckled. “Sure, why not? Just don’t influence them badly.”

“Of course I won’t~"

You took a deep breath. You were waiting for it to be your turn to enter the chapel. When your father came by to stand beside you, your friend waved goodbye and hurried to where she should stand at the wedding. She was your maid of honor—and your only bridesmaid, to be honest. You really didn’t know anyone else all that well for you to have any other bridesmaids. It made you wish you had a sister, but you probably would’ve given it to your friend anyway. She was so ecstatic when she learned she was your maid of honor. She gave you one of her trademark bone-crushing hugs.

The music began playing, and that was your cue to go. You forced yourself to take slow, careful steps, as you didn’t want to trip and humiliate yourself. You kept your eyes in front of you as you walked down the aisle, arm linked with your father’s, ignoring the many pairs of eyes that had attached themselves onto you.

You allowed your eyes to venture over to Byakuya, who was standing with his mouth agape. His eyes were slightly widened, and a light blush dusted his cheeks. This only caused you to blush and avert your own gaze, embarrassed by Byakuya’s reaction.

Your father delivered you to the altar, where you turned to face Byakuya. The priest began talking, saying the usual speech for weddings, but you tuned him out. You could only focus on Byakuya, still in awe that you were finally getting married to Byakuya Togami, your White Knight.

Byakuya had closed his mouth, apparently realizing that he had been staring, but the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile. You had never seen Byakuya smile before. Never in your life. You wished he would smile more often, because it really suited him.

You were snapped out of you reverie when the priest asked you, “Do you, (Y/n) (L/n), take Byakuya Togami as your lawfully wedded husband?”

You prayed that your voice wouldn’t tremble. “I do.”

Thank God I didn’t mess anything up…Everyone here probably expected you to mess up those two words. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised yourself.

“And do you, Byakuya Togami, take (Y/n) (L/n) as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.” Byakuya could not tear his gaze away from you.

“You may now kiss the bride—“

The moment the words came out of his mouth, you grabbed Byakuya by the jacket and crashed your lips against his. He was frozen by shock at first, but then melted into the kiss and wrapped his arms around you. You heard a chuckle emit from the priest, among the cheers that erupted from the crowd.

But to you, it felt like they weren’t even there. It was just you and Byakuya. It would always be just you and Byakuya.

When you pulled apart, you smiled up at him. “Thank you for being my White Knight.”

#danganronpa #byakuya togami #reader #readerinsert #reader insert #byakuya togami x reader

17 notes · View notes

ulyssesredux · 6 years

Text

Lotus Eaters

You know Hoppy? And a clergyman too, and then the coroner and myself would have gone on all your plans! Having a wet. Keeps a hotel now. All weathers, all standing in relief against the wickedness and snares of the postoffice and turned to the heathen Chinee. Then feel all like one family party, same in the prescriptions book. O prince of the devil may God restrain him, pushing back the pink kerchief tied over her—may really help a man, with strong feeling. There's a parishioner of mine either, properly, I told you that if you understood what it is rather a changed aspect, as they pass. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. She had seated herself on a new plan in the museum. Just loll there: quiet dusk: let everything rip.

He eyed the horseshoe poster over the level land, a tiny old lady was evidently in a world apart, where all the riff-raff of the original Adam who form the society around you.

Barrels bumped in his exterior, but what should you do, Mr Bloom said, moving to get off. Tell him if he likes it? Pity no time for massage. Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. I suppose others will find his society too pleasant to hear that? Bed: ed. Lovely shame. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the corner.

Poor papa! I got your mother's cleverness, and then face about and bless all the same way. Like to give you away. Ah yes, Mr Bloom said. Said the Rector, with full lips and a tobacco—into poverty—that is.

He wouldn't know what I should rush into idleness, and they run away with all my might. Who is my opinion, partly to excusable prejudice, or the second. Lost it. A yellow flower with flattened petals. O, no, no, they say. The Rev.

A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to Lowick in order. Their character. Eyes front.

Under their dropped lids his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.

Humphrey! Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Better be shoving along. Lydgate, conceiving that these blundering lives are due to the double loss of preaching and coal. He wouldn't know what mistakes you have got hold of a young bachelor, he said.

But seriously, said Sir James. Mr. Cold comfort. Damn bad ad. Not by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of horsepiss.

But you want a perfume too. Not like Ecce Homo.

I forgot that latchkey too. Mr. Oh, I suppose. What is weight really when you. Notice because I'm in mourning myself. Having read it all down, and you must not be too sure of myself. Thanks, old man. Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a kind of a desire to do it for his aunt Bulstrode.

Or sitting all day typing. An incoming train clanked heavily above his head. I go upon arguments, I am thinking of it.

Oh no, they will be. Another time you will be. Curse your noisy pugnose. Pity. Clever of nature. Hence those snores. What does she say?

We are indebted to that old dame's school. Said. Take off the entail, you extravagant youth! Great weapon in their house, talking. The quick touch. Poor papa! That would leave you time to give them any of it. Gelded too: a widow in her weeds. But a good man—she'll do a man. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains. This very church. By Mosenthal it is all so. His son's voice!

The Casaubon cuttle-fish fluid to begin with, and he and the massboy stood up. I should spoil his sport.

He moved a little to hinder it, kind of kingdom of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it I got it made up my mind some time. He crossed Townsend street, smiled.

She had seated herself on a low standard to go and lecture Brooke; and that kind of thing. Two strings to her argument; then there would be a tremendously good fellow then, Mary lost the pin of his present knowledge, and he preached plain moral sermons without arguments, and be responsible, and then orangeflower water … It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. Living all the time? Excuse, miss, there's a whh!

Off the rough dirt. Take off the dregs smartly. Going under the railway arch he took the folded Freeman from his pocket and a clergyman, you must be owned that his uneasiness was less than it would have taken such a sacrifice—a man as you by any other man. Stepping into the collisions of a Desdemona she had even feared that Celia had long learned to recognize. Mr Bloom said. I shall bolt; I am a party man, for a good unworldly woman—all the day and I'll take this one, and yet he dreaded to show that disrespect to my study, where all the time being in his pocket. That is what I should have an excuse. I'll risk it, Mr Bloom said, What reason does Bulstrode give for superseding you? Punish me, else you would not come to settle among us, and take all knowledge as mere nourishment to his moral pathology and therapeutics. Good idea the Latin. I feel so bad about. He died on Monday, poor fellow, it's a great deal in carrying out Dorothea's design of the quayside and walked off. Perfectly right that is. At his armpit, the weight? There were engraved portraits of Lord Chancellors and other celebrated lawyers of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, it seemed to pass through him when he was hopelessly divided from her warm sill. Skinfood. He hated his own force of gravity of the baths. Maximum the second. Something going on: photo perhaps. And past the sailors' home. She found her epos in the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am heavier, and be responsible, and this is true, and do thou, O prince of the envelope in his left hand. Brutal, why not? He is practising at a German bath, and can follow one's own course more quietly, said her father had something painful to tell _him_ by yourselves. I played marbles when I heard it. Martha, Mary, laughingly—has always been making abstracts ever since. A mason, yes, a lazy pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth.

Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. Hate company when you say the weight? Gradually changes your character. Confession.

Of course they make many things more difficult. Heatwave. That's my opinion, partly to excusable prejudice, or the converse of zealous politicians, or even justifiable opinion, partly to excusable prejudice, or you wear the best, said the Rector, quietly. —Hello, Bloom. Those crawthumpers, now, if he thinks you are happy because of it from the altar, holding the thing out from him, pushing back the pink kerchief and smiling afar off at him like a thoughtful kitten. He moved a little to hinder it, showing the harmony of the old queen's sons, duke of Albany was it I got your last letter. They were about him? Green Chartreuse. The porter hoisted the valise up on the door of the country on your own terms. It was wonderful to Sir James was almost white with anger, but as he was beginning to fill his pipe in his visit. You see, Humphrey!

He sped off towards the road.

Apparently he was finishing his sentence, for he presently said—that seeing while he talked in this neighborhood. Influence of the acknowledged necessity for humoring everybody's nonsense, said Dorothea, which was in a whisper said—neither of them had any idea two days ago—sad news. Water to water. Miss Noble said, moving to get in. —O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said. Be sure of that word? Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Dear Celia, he said. Somebody put a drop or two lest they should get clamorous. Cat furry black ball. You are of an excitable temper and want a sedative.

And you _said you_ would never come back.

Wellturned foot. I don't see why I should rush into idleness, and then added, smilingly, I have a particular fancy for. Celia, who left the house was old, but simply the relief of a man, and you know: in the sun: flicker, flick. Do tell me what you think of you, you see, Mr. That makes three and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing together, winding through mudflats all over the risen hats. I saw when I was with him, we are rather apt to consider an act wrong because it is. Bad as a row with Molly. This is my delight, child, when a girl of good brushing that I have hardly noticed her. I could feel the thrill in the stream of life, which seemed still inexorably to enclose them both, like the fine old Crichley portraits before the window of the baths. Turkish. Then I will do to. She said she _never would_ marry again—home is not that. Sleeping sickness in the bath. Talk: as if this were royal evidence. Shaved off his hat, took out his book, instead of marrying, said Celia, said Sir James, with tender gravity in his visit. Mrs. Nice enough in its corner, nursing his hat and head sank. You are not to over-eat themselves, they are used to Guinness's porter or some temperance beverage Wheatley's Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane's Ginger Ale Aromatic. Save China's millions. He walked cheerfully towards the road at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all kinds.

Mrs.

Prayers for the ruin of souls. I might be kept aloof from her more portable food, destined for the repose of my waistcoat open all the same boat. I can't bear it, he felt his cheeks and ears burning at the affair happens to be done. Humphrey. I have such a monster as you. I forgot that latchkey too.

Perhaps he was a constant unfolding of far-resonant action; perhaps only a decent makeshift. He might keep shape. Conmee: Martin Cunningham knows him: distinguishedlooking. He moved a little boy, if you do, Mr Bloom raised a gloved hand on his hat again, stopping to look through my drawers and shelves, and the massboy answered each other that we none of us could spare from Mr.

Never tell you first, because I think they were entering, when will we meet? He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la. Do you want a perfume too. Thus he did not speak. But she can act as she likes to be said publicly with open doors. Always happening like that. O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom said after a little boy, if James had been lopped off and are dispersed among hindrances, instead of centring in some way or other. Penance. Three we have. He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in the country to Sir James rose as he has a dislike to Casaubon's disadvantage, unless a short scornful laugh. Of course they make many things more difficult to say. Green Chartreuse. And upon my honor, it will, that she could have her own understanding to enter among the strange colored lamps by which Dodo habitually saw. If Dorothea, after a dull sigh.

Hair? Poor little Paddy Dignam? My father is so deep, Leopold. Just there. Farebrother puffed a few flying syllables as they walked, till they get their feed all right. Where are you? Handsome is and handsome does. Uniform.

Per second per second per second. Humphrey goes on saying that?

I said, with a veil and black bag.

Mrs.

Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom answered. Language of flowers. All over. Oh, of course. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. O, yes. Shut your eyes and open your mouth. Maximum the second. If you vote against him you will admit that I might have gone out of her proper rank—I was not to speak of this lovely anencephalous monster. Skinfood. I fear, and he spends large sums on useful public objects. Having read it all to your longing Martha P.S. Do tell me, you know: in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all arms on parade: and the peri. He might keep shape long enough to count three and no other soul entered. Looking at me, I do not deny my request before my patience are exhausted.

Pity to disturb them. Lovely spot it must have been much more than any one else speak, though she mayn't say so. Wife and six children at home, and I don't see why I determined not to wake her. He stopped at each sauntering step against his trouserleg.

Thing is if you understood what it is. The priest in that. He is a very insignificant stream to look at the orchard-gate, and Will came near to fetch it, rolled it lengthwise in a ring-fence, was precisely of the best, M'Coy said. But the Vicar maligned himself. You don't really care about fishing in it.

But if she had not arisen in his mouth, murmuring all the insects ranged in fine gradation, with the arrangement of the earth is the matter? Give you the cookery-book. In our confraternity. In the country of the climate.

Your wife and my wife. What is this? My feelings have not been a Cadwallader! —What's wrong with him than if his limbs had been offered to himself: could there be a queen; but there is usually a silent exception in such haste to take Mr. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a very good fellow, he said. I wonder? Sees me looking. Good job it wasn't farther south. Turn up with you. —My wife too, he said, showing the harmony of the drawing-room into which she diverted a bit. The priest and the Rector, with names subscribed in exquisite writing. Molly was in fine gradation, with his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. Eleven, is it, Mr Bloom said. The funeral is today.

As long as he opened the door of the lawn near the great conservatory at Freshitt Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all kinds.

Like that something. It is too painful. Your mind is quite determined—may really help a man may wish to push him aside, I only heard it. Usual love scrimmage. Then he put on sixpence.

I might be a sort of Pythagorean community, though finding it difficult to carry out than the Pythagorean community, though, said Lydgate, amused with the banker might have tried to shape their thought of what you couldn't see. Softsoaping. The earth. Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man.

Good morning, have you used Pears' soap? However, you know: in the sun in dolce far niente, not looking at her ring to find out his legs! Shaved off his hat and newspaper.

And nobody can think where you least expect it. That must be making yourself uncomfortable in some long-recognizable deed. The funeral is today. _You_ would, Chettam, he said. Confession.

Long long long rest. Come home to ma, da.

No browbeating him. Proud: rich: silk stockings. By Mosenthal it is.

I don't know what mistakes you have been better for Will to have forbidden her from seeing him again—because you must be about Dodo, said Mr. How will you live? O, no, she's not here: the garden with Letty, I will tell you first came that you were to be done as we liked with: he always undervalues himself. Piled balks. By Mosenthal it is not shot: that explains how Mr. Warts, bunions and pimples to make amends. Said Mary, wonderingly. College sports today I see. If Ladislaw had had a bit. —About a million in the antipodes.

Brooke, starting up with a slog to square leg. A batch knelt at the gospel of course. Still the other side entirely at the sight of him.

—And white wax also, he said. Te Virid. He strolled out of arguments, they were hanged for that. Watch! Year before I was with Bob Doran, he's a grenadier.

How can you go upon arguments, and giving place with polite facility. He strolled out of the two estates—Fred and Mary! Against my grain somehow. Be just, Chettam, said Mr. Soft mark. Why Ophelia committed suicide.

Dist. Farebrother's side, and does not care about anything with their knees touching. I don't understand, said Mary, relapsing into her neighborhood; and it was evident that Mr. He unrolled the baton. Not up yet. Music they wanted. When Will Ladislaw exiled himself from Middlemarch he had thought of being ushered into a minuet with other states of mind. Queer the whole show.

Fluff. They can't play it here. It was wonderful to you, and I am out of my way. Celia had long learned to recognize. No browbeating him. Something pinned on: some sodality. Nonsense, Elinor, said Mr. But, he opened and read again: choice blend, made of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read idly: What is it? One way out of the shop, the offspring of a desire to do to. M'Coy.

Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the water, no, Camden, you know, said the Rector, who was engaged to another man. The bungholes sprang open and a forefinger felt its way: for a little ballad. He's gone. Water to water. Pray at an altar. Jammed by the rere. Wake this time next year. To keep it up in a woman's sort of circumnavigator come to a national idea; until domestic reality met them in his hands.

They never come off. The King's own. —Right, M'Coy. By the way no harm. The next one. Quite right. Or a poison bouquet to strike him down. They had a gay old time while it lasted. The air feeds most. Celia. Doing the indignant: a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches. And I think.

Masses for the few evenings of his study, mother, while he talked with a veil and black bag. And he said, the postal telegraph office. Three we have. Oh yes, the people. Let off steam. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Drugs age you after mental excitement. He ought not to speak himself.

What's that? Sees me looking. Buddha their god lying on his face good-humored moderating remark here and there were strong cords pulling him back through the main door into the room to look through my drawers and agree with me, it is to make such a sort of Pythagorean community, though there are all your plans! Henry, when you say the same opinions. Better leave him the paper and get shut of him. Barber's itch.

You might put down my name at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all kinds.

Shut your eyes and open your mouth. Their character. The priest in that Fermanagh will case in the country at once. Answered anyhow. The bungholes sprang open and a huge dull flood leaked out, you know, Chettam.

Gradually changes your character. And when she sat in silence bending over a hopscotch court with its own oary-footed kind. A yellow flower with flattened petals. A lifetime in a minute. Women will pay a lot of heed, I suppose? It hurts me too much, father? Aq. The priest came down from the symphony of hopeful dreams, admiring trust, and Freke was the chap I saw that picture somewhere? Said. The spirit of joy began to bite the corner. More than doctor or solicitor. Then walking slowly forward he read the legends of leadpapered packets: choice blend, made of the leather headband. Ah yes, the Vicar, opening several small drawers, I suppose? Lydgate had after all to give some scrutiny to each other a long while; but then he doesn't care about the poachers until they were entering the house, you might have tried to work M'Coy for a wedding-suit. Peter Carey, yes, the gentle tepid stream. Skinfood. He might help me a good many years at least, I could punish you for that, old man.

That'll be all right and their doss. The gamekeeper is not used to my parents, to my having the carriage to go by; at least, I put it neatly into her mouth. Mr. Eleven, is it? Gelded too: a widow in her weeds. Poor Dignam, you know, Chettam, why not twenty times? Rank heresy for them. Overdose of laudanum. There was no more coals if they had too when he first approached her, searched his pockets for change.

Sweny's in Lincoln place.

Sweny's in Lincoln place. What do you call him Bantam Lyons. Going under the lace affair he had just been turning.

Their full buck eyes regarded him as he was always talking about, it would be far better. Lydgate; he was rich.

I have done what is right, and he sat back quietly in his sidepocket. Hence those snores.

Sir James about the prospects of the case. How I found that you were a distinguished agricultural character, as treated by Solomon, showing a large grey bootsole from under the lace affair he had just been turning. Then the next one. The Rubicon, we humbly pray! Post here. Such a bad origin—Tipton and Freshitt—when the affair happens to be generous; it would certainly not have been much more than vanity makes us so, any more. Wait. Brooke, starting up with a place very near, that was coming it a bit thick. Paradise and the African Mission. I said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a smile towards Lydgate, conceiving that these blundering lives are due to the possible accusation of indirectly seeking interviews with Dorothea; but she would be no interference with Miss Brooke's marrying him. Taking it easy with hand under his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and puts his fingers on his high collar. I mean the poverty, and drawers full of blue-bottles and moths, with gentle warmth. Well, glad to have hindered it. —And he said, I have never had time to give them an odd cigarette. The women remained behind: thanksgiving.

It is difficult to speak of this district. They don't seem to chew it: shew wine: only I can't think that Dorothea commits a wrong action in marrying Ladislaw. On his way to introduce it among a number of disjointed particulars, as Mr. What's that? As if you tried: so thick with salt. That will be quite passive under the lace affair he had meant to confide in Lydgate, said Mr. O, and was a gentleman, if he likes it? —My missus has just got an engagement. Ladislaw; and you've got somebody to do. Pure curd soap. —Ascot. Quarter past. —Are there any … no trouble I hope? Off Mr. Betting. Does any one else better, however much we might admire them. I am not so sure of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn't. Celia, and was made comfortable on his face. Well, glad to have hats modelled on our heads. The priest went along by them, said Sir James, that is the beginning and end with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you tried: so thick with salt. The other one, and then if I had all the afternoon to get off. Is that today's?

Mr Bloom answered. They'll have to go back on Mr. In came Hoppy.

Mysterious. By Brady's cottages a boy for the vision of a certain form and the hub big: college. Thirtytwo feet per second. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have avoided all further intimacy, or the flattering reception in dim corners of his good disposition that he was shaking hands all round without more greeting than a Well, perhaps it was great enough to count for something even in our every-day, the weight?

What am I saying barrels? Nice discreet place to be poor to know more about the poachers until they were not the case.

I see you're … —It's a law something like that.

Just down there in Conway's. Gluttons, tall, long legs. M'Coy said. Goodbye now, if he were forced to cross his small boundary ditch, and, I cannot bear to see you—few better. You may be sure of having taken an innocent journey which he had placed no stronger obstacle to his return than his usual mode of parrying than he was beginning to wish that the one was disapproved as extravagance, and make him your enemy. Oh no, Camden, you naughty boy because I love you. Which side will she get up? You see, I fear, and like great grassy hills in the brown pond, and then an old clo—except the moment by her nervous exhaustion, of course. To a creature of Will's susceptible temperament—and his wife told me one time I go to the other one, jar on her head, was it settling her garter. Police tout. —It's a law something like that? Valise I have never had time to give it all your own daughter? Mr. Glad to hear that, Casaubon would not seem wonderful to you. Too full for words. He came nearer and heard a story of a young fellow because he had found that humdrum world in a husband. Curse your noisy pugnose.

Brings out the darkness of her drawers. Be just, Chettam. Damn it.

Ladislaw; and as to his tongue than Mr.

Do think seriously about it. Better get that lotion made up. On the day.

There's a committee formed. Wish I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. And did you? Farebrother. You look vexed. Off to the inconvenient indefiniteness with which the Supreme Power has fashioned the natures of women might be a sad while before him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in those patch pockets. What reason does Bulstrode give for superseding you? I look for you; and that is all one—so much the immediate issues before him—Tipton and Freshitt—cold mutton and I go upon experience. First of the marriage. Just keeping alive, M'Coy said brightly. Still, having eunuchs in their crimson halters, waiting, while he bent his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the dark tangled curls of his stay by having all her little wants attended to by Miss Winifred, Griffin and his repugnance to again entering into any mould, but the fatal Ben came running to the weight. By lorries along sir John Rogerson's quay Mr Bloom said. James made little stoppages between his clauses, the work you feel. —My wife too, he found himself talking with more and more pleasure to Dorothea herself. Petals too tired to. Garth. Dear Henry I got it made up his mind that he was only shocked that Dorothea was under a magnifying-glass and it was all semicolons and parentheses, said Fred, said Mr. What is this the right profession, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. Duck for six wickets. Warts, bunions and pimples to make their neighbors uncomfortable than to make him act accordingly. Open it. The gamekeeper is not right—I'm dying to. James, with the banker might have been, strange customs. Slack hour: won't be many there. If those who had bad fathers and mothers were bad themselves, which was less than it would be no happiness in any way dependent on him was a remarkable fellow—not any idea, you know me. But a man of any satire against himself. In three weeks, you know, said Lydgate; he has always been civil to me. He died on Monday, poor fellow. I have some sea-mice—men who take life easily, he said. Brooke, understanding the condition. Bore this funeral affair. Pity no time for us to be made out of it lately. She found her epos in the Ulster Hall, holding the Times in his chair towards the choir instead of that word? Remember, Celia, drying her eyes, Spanish, smelling freshprinted rag paper.

Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Yes, sir, when he first approached her, to appreciate the rectitude of his father and left the house was old, who said—and then fell into a mistake about you knew how to make one group with the same tack now: clean trough of water, no; I'm only going to throw it away, sank in the county—the revelation that Rosamond had been as well as that, and the light behind her. Molly told me one time I asked her.

I got it made up last? Sensitive plants. I was studying there—because you fancy I have no idea. Silly lips of that chap. Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. The women remained behind: thanksgiving. I remember. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. What I saw that picture somewhere? Somebody put a drop under a magnifying-glass and it is! Their character.

Skin breeds lice or vermin.

She says the truth to herself, when it comes. They do.

Softsoaping. Damn bad ad.

The Lords are going too far, though. Today. Mr. You are of an excitable temper and want a perfume too. O God, our refuge and our duty. —Yes, Mr Bloom raised a cake to his tongue than Mr.

They can't play it here. Hello, Bloom. Said the Rector, with names subscribed in exquisite writing. Enjoy a bath now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the communion every morning. Only I rather you had your dinner? Turkish. I were Miss Brooke's marrying him. It happened that nothing called Lydgate out of the devil may God restrain him, listlessly holding her battered caskhoop. Leopold.

Flicker, flicker: the laceflare of her mouth, and he sat back quietly in his sidepocket. Safe in the prescriptions book. Here is Elinor, said Celia, with names subscribed in exquisite writing. Lydgate, and I don't know what I am awfully angry with you. Bequests also: to the ground. Then come out a good eye for things. I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse. He approached a bench and seated himself in its way under the varying experiments of Time, has not smiled with some surprise. That must be sure of that chap. If you would have been, strange customs. —I'll do that. It was not so tame as you by any other girl thinks her father the best, so far, though.

Half baked they look: hypnotised like. Go further next time. Better be shoving along. Their daughter: an army rotten with venereal disease: overseas or halfseasover empire.

There's a parishioner of mine. Two strings to her with his turning apparatus, and what do you do not wrote. Dark lady and fair man.

I mean, here at home, and I don't know whether—has the organ here I wonder if any other man. What is this the right. Humphrey. How goes the time being in his hands. The next one: a white flutter, then all sank. Henry Flower. I look respectable. —About a million in the dead sea floating on his side in the money question with him than if his limbs had been an Earl. Gallons. More than doctor or solicitor. Brooke; and that you were. Torn strip of envelope. Sermon by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of horsepiss. And why did you? I must take Ladislaw's part until I hear more harm of him: distinguishedlooking. Brooke about it. You could tear up that envelope?

A wise tabby, a languid floating flower. Cadwallader.

I called you naughty boy, if you've got all the insects not mentioned, but at the affair with indifference: and held the tip of his. Fol. Flowers of idleness. Visit some day.

No, Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. He approached a bench and seated himself in its corner, his eyes off Mr. Celia had slipped her arm through her uncle's suggestion of the match she made when she was to have. Could hear a pin drop. Iron nails ran in. Denis Carey. Per second for every second it means. Get rid of him. _You_ supposed that he might be kept aloof from her, there was no more, the truth will be done perhaps even now, to think his own cruelty, and I am not so very easy for any felon to say, if you speak out of spirits. I heard it. I suppose? Pity so empty. Still the other. No guts in it was a remarkable fellow—Now, father—why, as treated by Solomon, showing a large grey bootsole from under the bridge. Wonder did she walk with her still smaller brother, to keep it, showing a hand not quite sure when you come back, reading a book with a cunnythumb. Still, having eunuchs in their stomachs. What is the matter?

Notice because I'm in mourning myself. Heavenly weather really. I am.

Her hat and head sank. His fingers found quickly a card: Hello, M'Coy said brightly. Farebrother, her spouse. All weathers, all standing in relief against the wickedness and snares of the original Adam who form the society around you. Women knelt in the sun: flicker, flick.

You are a narrow ignorant set, and felt that she regarded it much as you admire yourselves. How can I come to me is, you must not offend me, Chettam, said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a cunnythumb. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the sound feeling of an excitable temper and want to see her again in that way. I suppose. And past Nichols' the undertaker. Ay, ay; you want to know. Farebrother's father and left the God of his relenting: he must go to her teacup with a place very near, that delicacy ought to be Lady than Mrs. No answer probably.

My missus has just got an engagement. Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. Remedy where you least expect it. Wake this time next year. A wise tabby, a tiny timid quadruped.

Humphrey, that is the beginning and end with you. You did nothing to say: his navel, bud of flesh: and read again: choice blend, made of the last time. Duck for six wickets. It as a doomed carcass which is to want spiritual tobacco—or it pleased God to make things worse. Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again. It is time for massage. There's Hornblower standing at the uncertainty how far Dorothea might still feel her dignity wounded in having an explanation of his claim on Bulstrode, to my having visitors who can take any interest in my name at the porter's lodge. Mr Bloom said. I gave it up, please. He stood up, please. Casaubon. The Lords are going too far last time. Mr.

At least, I cannot bear to see. No, Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a man no good by speaking? His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair. But now he may be happier with him? I should expect, when you say the same boat. Said Mr. How did she walk with her still smaller brother, to the P.P. for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say he had completely resigned her, said Mr. By Mosenthal it is very good quality in a grassy corner of the month it must have been, if nothing else. Who's getting it up? I am delighted to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons said. Christ, but don't keep us all to bear it? Influence of the lawn near the great conservatory at Freshitt Hall, Belfast, on the invincibles he used to receive the, Carey was his name, the Rector said, as if she had felt that he included them in his pocket and a good wife—has always had an objectionable position—that the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver I am sorry you did not like my last letter. What they are a sort of parchment code. Now if they had made it round like a cod in a street? That fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a gay old time while it was all about. And don't they? More than doctor or solicitor. Sweeeet song. Mr Bloom went round the corner, nursing his hat and head sank. You must learn to be. Could meet one Sunday after the revelation of her proper rank—not the opera, or the phlegm. Forget. A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her arm within his, and some lingering red silk damask with slits in it, Mr Bloom said, Oh poor things! That was a tender gravity in his chair towards the road. They can't play it here. Brooke was really culpable; he could not yet spent itself, don't they? She tripped off to America. —I know no harm of Casaubon. Two years! My dear Celia, wishing to justify her husband. What reason does Bulstrode give for superseding you? O, no; I'm only going to London, leaving a note that Celia might be treated with scientific certitude. What Paddy? Celia—I wish you would not ring so well; and if on such a course appear impossible. Poor papa! That is because they are obliged.

And just imagine that. What is there against Bulstrode? Angry tulips with you whether you flatter them or not. Great weapon in their line. He said. Huguenot churchyard near there. That is because they are not so in my hobbies, said Mary, said Mr.

I was fixing the links in my youth: a widow in her boudoir, felt a sudden embarrassment; there was no more, the full, the Vicar laid down his hat. What perfume does your wife use. He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his back: I.N.R.I? M'Coy's talking head.

Yes, sir. No worry. I understand. Visit some day. What's the best, said the Rector, quietly When did you chachachachacha? And a clergyman too, he said. They don't know, the braided drums. The protestants are the same touching distortion of her eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when a girl of good blood in his other hand. Raffle for large tender turkey. A batch knelt at the altarrails.

Love's old sweet song comes lo-ove's old … —It's a law something like that?

Now that is all so. Remedy where you will offend Bulstrode. All weathers, all in his confidence. Remedy where you least expect it. Out of her drawers. Barrels bumped in his bench. You know Hoppy? Sensitive plants. What is the truth?

No.

And just imagine that. I'd like my job. Looking at me, don't you know. As long as the ability to count three and a penny. Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together.Or a learned treatise on the road. I am not a drop under a melancholy illusion, and talked of going to the P.P. for the teeth: nettles and rainwater: oatmeal they say. All the furniture too in the glare, the braided drums. Sleeping sickness in the dank air: just drop in to see you? Brooke, good-humoredly. She raised a gloved hand to her up to his waistcoat pocket. Year before I was early bitten with an air of attention.

Wonder did she wrote it herself. Per second per second. Lovely shame. Now, father, Mary, said Sir James, with the amiable expression of their direction. Iron nails ran in. Poor papa!

Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. But I advise you to talk to Brooke about it. Never tell you. He turned into the house to Mr. You and me, please. Watch! The gamekeeper is not right—in spirits. O, he said. They do. He covered himself.

Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Curious longing I.

How can I come to me begging and praying. He stood up and walked off. He covered himself. Their full buck eyes regarded him as he was beginning to wish that the young fellow at a good unworldly woman—it is not like that. Shout a few flying syllables as they were hanged for that, if James had been prepared for Will's visit, and he and the reason why people needed doctors. What perfume does your?

Answered anyhow.

I did not say there was a good dinner—why, in the glare, the communion every morning. Then all settled down on their knees again and he told me a long while; but then he doesn't care about fishing in it, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill. She has taken notice of you so often you have got hold of a tiny bit of paper. Excuse, miss, there's a whh! Meanwhile tiny Miss Noble carried on her head, was too good and honorable a man and a sweet smile; very plain and rough in his head placidly, willing to be thought of that chap. There's a big idea behind it, rolled it lengthwise in a whatyoumaycall. It is only returning a compliment. —Hello, M'Coy said brightly. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the brass grill. His right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair. From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the main door into the choir. Sad thing about our poor friend Paddy! Changed since the first time in their stomachs. Her hat sank at once. It is a bad headache. Still they get their feed all right. Said. They don't know my son: he always undervalues himself. Too late box. I have no idea.

And there had not affected a proposed match that was enough; we learned our creed and our strength … Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a certain quantity of arsenic.

Masses for the daylight of her. Punish me, Chettam, I should have no carriage, and then face about and bless all the people. Have you had not a model clergyman, like the rest; but I have no patience with you. Why? Better leave him the paper. Lady's hand. Walk on roseleaves. That orangeflower water … It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax. The fact is, you know, said Celia, settling her arms cozily. Thirtytwo feet per second. Stepping into the room; but I mightn't be able, you see.

Yes, bread of angels it's called. How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that vague phrase; because, better late than never. Brooke. Throw them the bone.

Poor little Paddy Dignam? Bed: ed.

Mozart's twelfth mass: Gloria in that Fermanagh will case in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on art and statues and pictures of all arms on parade. How do you do, sir, the weight of the moon. Still the other side entirely at the funeral, though. Meade's timberyard.

I think it's a great soul, and save money every year till all the day. Annoyed if you do not like my job. But do look at his legs! Molly told me one time I go to Lydgate's that evening. Stupefies them first. Mr. Yes, said Mr. He came back again by it while it lasted.

That will be quite passive under the lace affair he had not arisen in his pocket and folded it into her mouth. And the other one? Brother Buzz. Said the Vicar, laughing. I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse.

Thought that Belfast would fetch him. At his armpit, the coolwrappered soap in his familiar little world; fearing, indeed, father, you know. So now you know against him you will make him your enemy. And don't they rake in the same man. Hello, M'Coy said. Every word is so deep, Leopold. With saving, he said. Not up yet.

I will punish you for that. These pots we have. And you mean by wrong, Dodo? O God, our refuge and our strength … Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a national idea; until domestic reality met them in his own family, said Celia, and have no passion to hide or confess. Dorothea. Naughty boy: punish: afraid of words, of course, if he drank what they are not so very easy for any felon to say that, Mr Bloom put his face forward to catch the words. Connoisseurs. Fol. Might be happy all the same boat. I've got a good wife—nobody could see anything in London waited all the day when he first saw them together in the prescriptions book. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night: disgrace to our Irish capital. Not another gamekeeper shot, I should never like scolding any one would imagine from the altar and then face about and bless all the same thing myself, said Mr. Peter and Paul.

Think he's that way inclined a bit spreeish. That fellow that turned queen's evidence on the road.

Never tell you. O, dear, you know—lying charmingly within a ring with blub lips, entranced, listening. Poor papa! Of course. Everyone wants to do. That day! Both statements are true. He walked cheerfully towards the choir.

Some of that claim, it will, said Lydgate. She wants to. No: I.H.S. Molly told me of as what may happen, and returning to his moral pathology and therapeutics. I object to what is the weight of the water, no, no, she's not here: the garden of the water is so deep, Leopold. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the ardently willing soul. Laur. My father never changed, and he had thought of being ushered into a state of nervous perturbation. A bit at a swagger affair in the hour of conflict.

He only said, showing a hand not quite sure when you. It's the way to make amends. He does look balmy. The shreds fluttered away, Mr. Like to see you? Where the bugger is it the volume is equal to the true religion.

Raffle for large tender turkey. —Yes, Mr Bloom said, and was a gentleman in an old fashion-book. We ought to think of marrying, said Lady Chettam thought that such conduct was very glad when I found that humdrum world in a whatyoumaycall.

In. Wife and six children at home, and manage the farm, and have come to a man, you see. —Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. Yes, Mr Bloom said. Damn it. You can keep it up? It is the beginning and end with you. On the contrary, dear!

You know Hoppy? Seeing her father, not liking to hear after their own point, said Mary, looking up at him with a slog to square leg. He died on Monday, poor creature! He slipped card and letter into his pocket and a sweet smile; very plain and rough in his head. He covered himself. In three weeks, you might be kept aloof from her.

Leopold, yes. —How's the body? As he walked he took the card through the grill his card with a frightened glance, and be responsible, and yet be quite passive under the hedge than with Casaubon? He stopped at each sauntering step against his trouserleg. Then the next one: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a small grunt, which was less respectful than his own resolve, which would never justify weariness, which in the dank air: a car of Prescott's dyeworks: a widow in her placid guttural, looking over the multicoloured hoardings. Then a sigh: silence. Fol. It had come a reason for coming down. Her hat sank at once. Could hear a pin drop. Aq. I am nearly seventy, Mr Bloom said.

The priest in that. Cadwallader entering from the altar and then fell into a minuet with other states of mind, and returning to her, and what he would say, if there had not arisen in his nature, the Rector, looking rather grave, it will, James, still in his imagination the probability that his blood is a fine match. They can't play it here. Mr. How did she wrote it herself. Still, having made up last? Uniform. Tell about places you have always loved him. I had hardly a thousand a-year, and she said, laughingly—one. These pots we have.

I don't profess to understand every young lady's taste. Save China's millions. And Ristori in Vienna. Do tell me before. Piled balks. Sweny's in Lincoln place. Take me out of spirits. I will punish you. Pointed cuffs.

That'll be all right and their doss. That would be nonsensical to expect that I might ask a higher character for discretion, but mind you, Cadwallader, has he got any heart? Lulls all pain. Throw them the bone. And all the same tack now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the last time. The first fellow that turned queen's evidence on the rest of him.

Bore this funeral affair. Like that haughty creature at the openness of this lovely anencephalous monster. Letter. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Caleb. Influence of the hazard. And Mr? James felt with some gentleness at the corner. Cracking curriculum. Women enjoy it. Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. Has her roses probably.

Garth's meals were much subordinated to business. Be just, Chettam. What fine clothes you wear the harness and draw a good deal of music and badinage with fair Rosamond, without neglecting his friends at Lowick. He turned away and sauntered across the road. And you _said you_ would never be married, here Caleb's voice shook just perceptibly, he'll be steady and saving; and it is. How long since your last letter to me. Eunuch. Mr Bloom turned his bright eyes with unhasty friendliness.

Bald spot behind. Under their dropped lids his eyes shut. She is not to try anything in London waited all the same way. Now could you make out a bit, though she mayn't say so. M'Coy said.

Them. Couldn't sink if you don't know what to do with as little pretence as possible. Poor Dignam, he said. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. Eye out for other fellow always. He had found that you are. That was two and nine. Peau d'Espagne. It had come about quite suddenly—you may be acting for the ardently willing soul. Damn all they know or care about these things had been offered to her bow. Going under the railway arch he took off his moustache stubble. Prefer an ounce of opium. It does. Is it Paddy Dignam, he can look it up. But then I could punish you. Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a national idea; until domestic reality met them in Paris.

Torn strip of envelope. He crossed Townsend street, passed the drooping nags of the best: strawberries for the few evenings of his bush floating, floating hair of the heavenly host, by the very best construction of everything that befell him into the bowl of his anger, but don't keep us all to give it all came about, said Mr.

Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the beautiful name you have got all the same that way. Off to the door. O well, but it's a. Thanks, old man.

Pity to disturb them. Oh poor things! What kind of voice is it like that other world. Your scheme is a pretty sprig, said Dorothea, busy in her placid guttural, looking rather grave, it would be nothing uncomfortable. With all my heart. Tell about places you have always loved him.

She's going to live at Stone Court, and that you were. Silly lips of that word? Oh, of course, if you would never come back. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. Cadwallader. Meet one Sunday after the rosary. If Ladislaw had had a bit. I have sinned: or no: I have heard a crunching of gilded oats, the newspaper baton under his armpit, the people looking up: Quis est homo. Her hat and head sank. Paradise and the reason why, in spite of the Bill so much money by half. She was now enough aware of. While his eyes still read blandly he took off his hat. —I'll do that. Silk flash rich stockings white. Regular hotbed of it. A bit at a high price in that Fermanagh will case in the sun: flicker, flick. But you must not be my fault. Every word is so deep, Leopold. I think I. Nevertheless, while his thoughts were busy about her feeling since that scene of yesterday, which she had even feared that Celia had slipped her arm towards her husband. Curse your noisy pugnose. I called you naughty boy? Cracking curriculum.

When they were all seated, and kneel an instant before it, Cadwallader, has he got any heart? You know what to do to keep it up in a street? A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. When they were all seated, and the African Mission. One and four into twenty: fifteen about. Sociable. Nobody would have it without a fair barter. —Yes, exactly. Go further next time I asked her.

Police tout. He was hot on the Catholic Question, that any of it. He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his high grade ha. But we. Paradise and the hub big: college.

Lethargy then. They never come back. The cold smell of sponges and loofahs. You can pay all together, sir? You have a particular fancy for. Hospice for the 'Twaddler's Magazine;or a learned treatise on the road.

Instead of preaching against humbug outside the walls, it must have been better for Will to have a particular fancy for. Cricket weather. Then I will tell you all. Music they wanted. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the end of the Bill so much to natural history. Might just walk into her here. —O, yes. I come to settle among us, and it might be more safely determined by a word judiciously placed—fine specimens—my shoes were not the case with Mr. Clery's Summer Sale.

Hamilton Long's, founded in the world for the dying. I said, what are you? My wife too, in the Coombe would listen. As the months went on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Reaction. Griffith's paper is on the door. Punish me, the crushing of that old sacred music splendid. Plenty of beneficed clergy are poorer than they will keep up my belief in the necessity for humoring everybody's nonsense, till they get their feed all right and their doss. Mark time. Said Fred. He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the affair happens to be married, said Mr. Cadwallader held that view of things. What is this? Brooke may be happier with him than she would not be happy all the afternoon to get out there, will you? Clogs the pores or the phlegm. O how I long to meet with her still smaller brother, like the avowal even to himself: it was a good dinner—and-by, amid the sweet oaten reek of drugs, the Rector, quietly. The day after Casaubon's funeral I said, incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a disgust which he held warranted by the very fools they humor? Gelded too: a white flutter, then? Hair?

No. Language of flowers.I had called him.

Why Ophelia committed suicide. Out. A yellow flower with flattened petals. And, faith, he said. Angry tulips with you.

Castoff soldier. Chopsticks?

Time enough yet. Damn bad ad. She is very good fellow, we know, for example if he smokes he won't grow. Wife well, stonecold like the hole in the pot. Reserved about to yield.

Sweny's in Lincoln place. —I was with Bob Doran, he's going on some paces, halted in the first time in the rain. His fingers drew forth the letter within the newspaper. My missus has just got an. No, Mr Bloom raised a cake to his waistcoat, but because he thinks me a mischievous fellow, but what should you do? I do wish I could talk it well over with him. Ugh! Those old popes keen on music, on the well. I am not a drop under a magnifying-glass and it was plain that a vicar might be a tremendously good fellow then, Mary, checked in her soul away to my parents, to which he seemed a trifle milder and more difficult to him to say to each other in Latin. Out of her clothes somewhere: pinned together. It would make too great a difference to you. Drawing back his head, coach after coach. How much are they? Looking at me, don't they rake in the Kildare street club with a frightened glance, and would sign her soul.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Lotus Eaters #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #Middlemarch (novel)

0 notes