#happy graduation Ace <3

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Hey @arecaceae175 have a graduation snippet gift <3

(@hermitdrabbles56)

This hadn't exactly been what he'd expected.

Surgery was precise and generally straightforward. If there was a problem that needed fixing, one simply addressed it. Medicine was much messier, ruling out issues and treating symptoms rather than addressing the issue at hand.

Emergency medicine was a chaotic mix of both. Link hadn't exactly known what he was getting himself into when he'd signed up for a trauma surgery and emergency medicine fellowship.

As if residency hadn't been grueling enough, what with up to 100 hour work weeks, this fellowship finally brought him back to the action in a way he'd never experienced. His past was... checkered, for sure, but it had always been solo missions, not an all out war zone.

He also hadn't been on the front lines for the injuries up to this point.

Five years into being a doctor and he could still have his breath stolen away by feeling so utterly clueless.

Shaking his head, Link centered himself. Sure, this was less controlled than an operating room, but he could still fix wounds. This wasn't entirely new to him, just a different environment.

"I need a doctor over here!"

The call was commanding and urgent, and Link immediately went to it. A blonde nurse with a confidence that filled the room was holding pressure on a wound, hands preoccupied with preventing the soldier from bleeding to death.

"You want to put in a order for fast blood?" he said in a terse tone that, despite the phrasing used, wasn't a question.

Link nodded, going to the nearby computer to put in the order.

"You'll have to call for the blood, too," the nurse continued. "And I'm going to need a hemostatic agent for this."

The doctor paused a moment, simultaneously grateful and mildly annoyed at all the orders. He wasn't against nurses knowing what they needed and ordering for it, and he was completely out of his element, but the fiercely independent side of him was not a fan of having orders barked at him. Nevertheless, he did as instructed and watched the nurse quickly use the specailized gauze on the wound and wrap it tightly as best he could. Despite his efforts, specks of crimson began to ooze through.

"His BP is 72/41, tachycardic in the 120s, O2 saturation is dropping despite being on nonrebreather at 15L," the nurse reported, changing his gloves and immediately grabbing the first cooler of blood that arrived. He called for another nurse to check the blood with him and then looked at Link sharply. "I can send labs for you. What else would you like?"

This person was in shock. They needed to know what products the patient needed. Labs were absolutely necessary. Link slipped back into routine knowledge, blocking out the chaotic backdrop of the constant chatter and movement around him, and got to work.

Four units of red blood cells, two units of fresh frozen plasma, two liters of fluids, blood pressure intravenous drips, and a quick arterial line placement later, they made a hasty trip to surgery to repair a damaged artery.

When it was all finished, Link wandered back into the ER and saw the room where the patient had previously been bleeding all over the floor was already clean and filled with another whose leg had been blasted off.

"So you surgical or ER doc?" the nurse from before asked as he gave the new patient a fluid bolus and pain medication.

"Surgery," Link answered. "But I'm doing a rotation in the ER."

The nurse paused and smirked. "Bit different from your tidy little OR, right?"

Link huffed and smiled in return. "I've seen chaos before, but yes, it is different."

"Name's Link," the nurse said, catching the surgical fellow off guard. "You?"

"Well... it'll be easy to remember, because my name is Link as well," he answered.

The nurse frowned. "What, really?"

"Really."

The nurse laughed at that. "You'll need a nickname. That'll get confusing."

"And you?"

"I'm Link. You need a nickname."

Link raised an eyebrow. "What's your rank?"

"Captain."

"Then that's your nickname."

The captain's face soured in mild annoyance before he shrugged and waved a hand with enough lighthearted energy to diminish his grumpiness. "Fine. But you get one too. If I'm not Link, the no one is."

That finally pulled a laugh out of the physician. The young man was cheeky despite his earlier serious demeanor. His codename came to mind and he immediately dismissed it. Then he remembered his reputation in his previous OR, and he smirked.

"Timekeeper."

"Too many syllables. The patient will have bled to death by the time I call for you. Time."

Time laughed again. "Very well."

[shellshocklove]

wet nights | joel miller

pairing/AU: bfd!joel miller x female!reader – no outbreak

summary: getting beer spilled down your dress at your best friend sarah’s birthday party might not have been so bad– not when her dad can help you clean up.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 25 and joel is 47, reader is described as wearing a dress, swearing, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, exhibitionism, praise with a dash of degradation kink, one small touch of your clit, soft dom!joel, use of sir, cum play, no use of y/n

a/n: mom said it was my turn to write bfd!joel lol. basically this is just me wanting to write joel getting his cock and balls sucked bc it's what he deserves 😌 as always thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this for me! and happy reading <3

main masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Nodding your head to the beat of the music you gulped down a cooling sip of beer. The bar was stuffed to the brim tonight for Sarah’s birthday. Every chair and booth occupied, large groups huddled together against the walls, and a growing crowd of brave, seemingly deep enough down their drinks, dancers moved across the makeshift dance floor. Leaning against the bar right at the end, you were shielded from the continuous line of people looking for a drink to sate their thirst on this hot summer night.

You’d missed Sarah since graduation. She’d moved back to Austin to be closer to her father – a man you had still to meet even after all these years of knowing Sarah. You’d met in undergrad where you’d had a couple of overlapping classes the first year. She’d been one of those people where you’d just clicked, like a hand in a glove, you two just fit together.

Now you had moved to Austin. It wasn’t exactly planned, but you’d applied to a postgraduate program at the University of Texas, not necessarily thinking you’d get in– but then you had. Sarah had been ecstatic when you’d told her. You hadn’t seen her in person in over a year, but you couldn’t wait to live in the same city as your best friend again.

But first, her 25th birthday party.

Tonight would be your first night out as a new Austinite. Sarah had invited all her closest friends and family to her favorite bar to celebrate. You’d dreaded it a little, you weren’t gonna lie. That nagging anxiety had bubbled under your skin all week at the prospect of being the only one at the party who didn’t know anyone already. Sarah had told you not to worry though when you’d voiced your concern to her a few days ago – she’d introduce you to everyone – nothing to worry about, and she’d been right.

All Sarah’s friends had been extremely friendly and nice, and you’d been taken under their wing immediately. Quickly, your anxiety had melted away, condensing into nothing as you’d started to have a good time.

It was deep into the summer, and Austin had shown itself from its hotter side the last few days. Inside the bar everything ran hot, even with the AC on blast and with the amount of people who’d made their way inside in the last hour, looking for a good time on a Saturday night, it never stood a chance.

Trying to cool off you’d excused yourself from your new group of friends to order yourself a cold beer. One of the ACs blew cold air directly towards the bar, keeping the frantic bartenders cool as they pushed out order after order of drinks. You watched them from where you stood perfectly in the wind of the AC, glass raised to your lips when you felt a hard bump against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” you cursed as your full glass of beer spilled all down your front, staining your white summer dress.

“Shit– sorry, sweetheart.” You didn’t have time to react as your beer was lifted out of your wet hand and placed on the rough wood of the bar.

Looking up from your ruined dress you took in your beer thief as he reached across the bar for some napkins. He was older, forties maybe, maybe older if you were to take the sprinkle of salt and pepper in his hair into consideration, but he was gorgeous. A strong jaw and sculptured nose. Clad in a t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, you thought he looked casual– not like he belonged to the rest of the birthday party. The material of his t-shirt strained against his bicep as he leaned back from over the bar – a stack of napkins now in his hand. Standing to his full height before you, you noticed just how broad he was, and it made a drop of desire pool in your core. 

The man’s previous frantic movements came to a halt as he took you in for the first time; his dark brown eyes rolling down your body and leaving a trail of heat. His fist full of napkins stalled when his eyes landed on your dress, quickly diverting them with a loud clearing of his throat.

“Um– here,” he said, voice strained as he handed you the napkins.

Pulling your eyebrows together in a frown, you looked down at yourself again. The fabric was completely soaked through, and you felt a prickling heat tickle your cheeks as you realized you now looked like a walking ad for a wet t-shirt competition.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, taking the napkins from the man as you tried your best to cover yourself.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart– bumpin’ into ya like that.”

Pressing the napkins to your dress you shook your head at him, “It’s fine– eh,” you looked up from your body.

“Joel,” he introduced himself.

“It’s fine, Joel. It was an accident. I’ll just go to the restroom and try to get the stain out,” you said with a grimace, and reached for more napkins.

“Let me help ya,” he offered as he placed a friendly hand on your elbow.

As Joel guided you through the crowd towards the toilets, hand hovering at a polite distance behind your back, he continued to apologize.

“I feel terrible– let me at least pay for it if it ends up needin’ replacin’.”

Inside the bar’s toilets, you jumped up on the stone countertop lining the wall, turning the closest sink on.

“It’s okay,” you repeated as you busied yourself with trying to clean yourself up, “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten beer spilled all over me,” you said with a teasing laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Standing beside you with his hip leaning against the stone and a knee popped, Joel huffed out a strained laugh, a laugh somewhere between embarrassment and relief.

“Yeah?” He questioned, eyes falling to your working hands.

“Tell you this much– I’ve had plenty of wet nights.”

A sound escaped Joel at your words, one he quickly tried to cover up with a cough, and you realize your innuendo a second too late. When you looked up from your hands, eyes wide, you noticed that Joel’s cheeks had flushed slightly, like he was embarrassed that he’d even caught onto the innuendo you hadn’t meant to make. 

“Oh! No, not like that–” you rushed, tone slightly mortified as your eyes met his, trying very hard not to stutter through the rest of your sentence, “I–uh... I only meant that I uh–... I‘ve had plenty of situations in which I’ve gotten wet–” 

At this sentence, Joel raised his eyebrows in a look that seemed half-surprised, half-amused, and your stomach dropped even further into your ass in embarrassment. 

“–with water!” you clarified quickly, before you scrunched up your nose in embarrassment, closing your eyes as you huffed out a laughing sigh, “There’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully, is there?” 

You heard Joel’s chuckle to your side, deep and syrupy, like the stuff you’d liked to pour over your pancakes in buckets when you were a kid.

“You’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t started explainin’, I think,” Joel told you, his tone joking, and you chuckled bashfully, nodding before you looked up at him. 

There was a moment in which you exchanged a look, before you felt the smile break over your face and you dissolved into embarrassed laughter, shaking your head as Joel laughed, too. 

“Off to a great start,” you muttered in between chuckles, “First week in Austin and I’m already making passes at handsome strangers in bar bathrooms.” 

“I never said I was complainin’,” Joel said jokingly, and you let out a chuckle, “First week in Austin, hm?” 

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “Here for a postgrad.” 

“Smart and beautiful,” he mused, “Reckon I should spill beers more often if this is what I get in return.” 

Delicate wings fluttered in your tummy at his words as a feeling of excitement filled your chest. Looking up at him with a raised teasing eyebrow you said, “Not sure spilling beer on someone is the tried and tested formula.”  

“Well, that depends, really,” Joel answered back in a teasingly contemplating voice, “‘s it workin’ on you?” 

Your stomach dropped slightly at his words, and when your eyes moved to meet his, he was looking at you with a look that made your insides burn. 

“Maybe,” you told him with a teasing smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. 

You were never usually this bold, but there was something in the way he was looking at you and the syrup-y tone of his voice. You could tell he knew what he was doing, knew exactly what to say, and you wanted more. Biting down on your bottom lip coquettishly, you leaned backwards on your arms, giving Joel a full view of the soaked front of your dress, and more specifically, everything he could see underneath. 

“And what works on you, Joel?” 

You watched with some satisfaction as Joel's eyes ran over the length of your chest, before he quickly redirected them to your eyes.

“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman here, sweetheart,” he almost whispered, his eyes as dark as the Austin summer night sky. You gave a noncommitted shrug as a teasing smile tugged at your lips. Then, you leaned forward so that you were closer to him, feet dangling slightly.

“I never asked you to be,” you told him, your voice low but not quite a whisper as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

Behind your rib cage your heart quickened with excitement as Joel’s darkening gaze bored into yours, and you knew you him right where you wanted him. His eyes danced over your face for a moment, before they flickered down to your lips. It almost made you stop breathing for a second, the tension in the air between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was just something about this man, something about Joel – and in this moment you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone before. 

Maybe it should’ve scared you, the speed at which you’d fallen under his spell (or was it the other way around?), but right now, with Joel’s darkening eyes staring into yours, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any fear. You could only look at him, could only feel his breath fanning over your lips and the intensity of his gaze on your face.

“You’re trouble, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice was low, not quite a whisper, but full of deep bass. 

You felt the expanse of his hand fall on your bare knee, rough and calloused over where your sundress had ridden up. 

“Nothing you can’t handle.” You batted your eyelashes semi-innocently, spreading your thighs slightly, which made Joel’s mouth twitch in amusement. 

“’s that so, darlin’?” He asked, taking his place between your legs, your face now only inches from his as he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, your hand falling over his to guide it slowly up your thigh, “Don’t you wanna find out?”

As Joel’s index finger made contact with the side seam of your underwear, he closed the space between you and pressed his lips against yours. The hairs of his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow as he dove deeper, lips rolling over yours. You sat up slightly when his other hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your core rubbing up against his growing bulge. You whimpered against his lips at the contact, and Joel inhaled it, consuming every breathy moan and whimper.

His hand slid slowly downwards to your ass where he gave it a nice squeeze, pulling you even closer when your legs came up to wrap around his waist. He licked at your lower lip hungrily, and you opened yourself up to him to allow him to deepen the kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. He was a great kisser, probably the best you’d kissed. His lips moved expertly over yours, soft and firm at the same time as he guided you through it.

The grip on your ass tightened again and soon you were half-way to hanging off the counter as he rocked his front steadily against your core, where your arousal had started to pool. The kisses turned needier then, shorter and desperate between quiet whines. You could feel the shape of him against you, hard and thick, and big. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you as you imagined yourself on your knees before him, the weight and taste of him on your tongue. He was so fucking hot, and you wanted him so fucking badly.

“Can I suck your cock?” you panted through frantic kisses.

Joel pulled back slightly, head tipped back to find your eyes. 

“You wanna suck my cock?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. You only nodded, head tipping slowly with the bite of your lip.

Joel tsk-ed, “Dirty girl,” he said and rocked his hard bulge against your core, which earned him a moan. It made a wicked grin spread across his face, like he’d just proved a point.

His hands left your body as he slowly stepped backwards – that same cocky grin adorning his features as he nodded towards one of the stalls. Jumping off the countertop, you almost tripped over your feet to follow him inside.

“Relax, baby– ain’t no need to get on your knees until after we’re inside,” he teased, holding the door open for you, bicep bulging against the fabric of his t-shirt. Fuck, he looked so hot.

“Ha-ha,” you fake-laughed at him with a teasing roll of your eyes as you stepped past him and into the bathroom stall. When the door clicked behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning, you felt a pair of strong hands land on your hips as he pressed his body against your back.

“I’m only teasin’,” he reassured you in your ear, his breath fanning over the shell and sending a tingle down your spine. Turning around in his hold, your own teasing smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah?” you queried with the raise of an eyebrow, “Well two can play that game, sir” you teased as you slowly sunk to your knees, missing the way Joel reacted to the title you’d assigned him.

From above Joel watched you, body relaxed and composed like he wasn’t about to get his dick sucked, but the lust in his eyes gave him away. Your teeth caught on your bottom lip as you fumbled with his belt, the sound of metal clinking bouncing off the tiles as you focused on popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. You couldn’t take your eyes off the shape of him hidden behind the denim, and it made your mouth water, your thighs squeezing together. You were mesmerized as you let your pointer finger run over the covered length of him, the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs soft under your fingertips.

For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do – suck a man you’d just met less than an hour ago off in the bathroom stall of some dingy bar? But then again, something excited you about it. 

Maybe it was Joel? Or maybe it was the thrill of it all– of maybe getting caught?

“Go on, darlin’, it’s okay– be a good girl n’ take it out f’me,” Joel ordered from above, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, caught the way he studied you, gauging your every move and reaction.

Then something shifted in his eyes, a flash of insecurity making its presence known, “Or don’t– we can stop f’you want– if you ain’t feelin’ it anymore.”

You shook your head before he’d even finished his sentence. God, no! You sure as hell didn’t want to stop.

“I wanna keep going, Joel,” you smiled, your fingers hooking into the elastic band of his boxer briefs.

A genuine smile bloomed across his face then, his rough hand coming down to cup your chin, “That’s good, baby,” he said, swiping his thumb slowly over your skin, before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Know you’ll be good f’me, won’t you?” he whispered against your lips, drawing a breathy whine from you at the praise.

“Yes,” you sighed, almost breathless as he kissed you again quickly before he murmured against your lips, “Yes, you will, darlin’– you’re gonna choke on my cock ‘n thank me for it, won’t ya?”

He was driving you mad with all these questions. In just a few minutes, this man had turned you inside out, pushed every button to turn you on– you were practically swimming in your panties, your mind clouded in hazy arousal. 

You didn’t know what to do, and not thinking clearly, you chased his lips.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chuckled, pulling away slightly, “lemme hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you sighed again, “thank you for giving me your cock.”

“Thank you for giving me your cock, what?”

This manwas relentless.

“Thank you for giving me your cock, sir?” you tried, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

Pleased, a satisfied grin pulled at Joel’s lips. He rewarded you with a quick kiss before he pulled away, standing to his full height again.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to touch him. Hooking your fingers into the elastic band of his boxer briefs again, you slowly pulled them down, revealing inch by inch of the base of his fat cock.

He was big, and the sight made your mouth water, but what excited you the most was the weight of his heavy balls.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide with fascination.

His hand found the back of your neck in a grounding hold as he guided you closer, your lips bumping against his tip. “Give it a kiss, baby… just like that,” he praised as you did exactly what he wanted, placing a kiss to his cock the same way you’d kissed his lips.

Over you, you could hear Joel release a content breathy chuckle, “That’s so good, baby, such a good girl.”

Egged on by his praises, you shifted a little on your knees, steadying your hands on his thighs as you pooled a blob of spit in your mouth that you let drip down the head. Joel watched you intensely as you used your dominant hand to slowly work the spit over his length, earning yourself a strained grunt. He grew even harder in your hand as you familiarized yourself with the weight and size of him in your hand. 

“Wanna taste it, sir,” you said and placed another soft kiss to the head, swiping your tongue over the slit to taste the precum that had started to pearl.

“Yeah?” he taunted, almost degrading, “You wanna taste my cock that badly?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, looking up at him through your lashes.

Joel watched you for a beat before he tapped at the hand wrapped around him, shooing it away as he fisted himself. “Open wide then, honey, ‘f you want it that bad,” he said, slapping his cock against the side of your face.

Your mouth dropped open in an instance as Joel stuffed his cock inside your mouth slowly. You opened up as wide as you possibly could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate the size of him in your mouth. It was a wide stretch, and the tip touched the back of your throat far too soon, making you gag around the head.

He pulled back to let you breathe for a moment, before he sunk back down your throat again, a large and grounding hand resting at the back of your head. The second time you were more prepared to take him, holding him in your throat for a few moments longer before you started to gag. Over you, Joel let out a strained grunt; the noise sending a bolt of arousal straight to your core.

After that, Joel let you take the lead.

You started out slow, taking the head into your mouth as you let your spit-covered fingers glide over his shaft in an experimental tug. Under your fist, a slick sound echoed off the tiles with every jerk of his cock. You made sure his cock was thoroughly coated in your spit as you set a steady rhythm. You let your tongue glide over the underside of his tip, his hips bucking when you dipped your tongue into the slit.

It was sloppy, and wet, and the noises coming from your throat were entirely too obscene as you started bobbing your head, taking him down your throat.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel praised you, helping guide his cock down your throat with the hand resting at the back of your head. “You love suckin’ cock, don’t you? Love havin’ a big cock fill up that tight throat?”

Suddenly, you heard the muted music coming from the bar grow louder before dying again at the sound of the door slamming shut. You stilled your movements in panic as you heard someone slip into the stall to your right. Your eyes met Joel as you slipped his cock out your mouth, but to your surprise he looked far from concerned about the new audience. 

Stretching his neck he turned his head in the direction of the occupied stall, while he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. Even in his hands it looked big, and you started to wonder how you’d ever managed to fit it down your throat. A beat passed before he turned his head to look at you again, a wicked grin coating his lips as he bobbed his cock in your face, rubbing the head over your closed lips before he slapped it lightly against your cheek.

“Open up,” he mouthed with another light slap to your cheek. His actions made a tingle of arousal spread throughout your body, and you realized in shock how much the thought of getting caught turned you on.

You did as Joel said and opened your mouth for him to feed you his cock again. He watched you very closely this time, letting you ease yourself down his cock at your own pace, trying your best to be quiet. When the very tip of your nose made contact with the thatch of coarse dark hair at the base and your lips were snug around his cock, Joel couldn’t help himself. The grounding hand at the back of your head held you down as he shoved himself as deep as he possibly could down your throat, his balls bouncing against your chin at the movement.

To your right you heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet being flushed and a lock being twisted. Your eyes welled up with tears, your vision fogging over as you tried your best to fight against your gag reflex. Over you, Joel watched you with a proud smirk on his lips. When the sound of the sink turning on echoed through the restroom, you allowed a whimpering gag to escape you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but the thrill of getting caught choking on an older man’s cock, a man who was essentially a stranger, made you wonder if you could come untouched. You were so close already, just a flick of your clit would send you off the edge of bliss.

Your eyes were about to roll back into your head when Joel finally pulled back. You gasped violently for air at the exact moment the door opened, filling the toilets with loud music for a moment before you and Joel were locked away again in your own little world. Like you were on autopilot, your hand slipped between your thighs to find your clit, and soon you were withering with your orgasm.

“Oh, there you go, honey, come all over those fingers f’me, just like that,” you heard Joel say, though the force of your orgasm made it seem like he was far away, like your ears were filled with cotton.

When you finally calmed down, you steadied yourself with a tug at Joel’s jeans – the fabric rough under your fingertips. Over you Joel fisted his cock as he watched you with a wild look in his eyes.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that just from gettin’ your throat fucked.”

“Thank you, sir,” you managed to let out, your voice strained and hoarse.

Realizing he must’ve been close, you sat up straighter on your knees, ready to pull him off the edge too. Leaning forward, you stuck out your tongue, licking a fat strip up the seam of his balls to the underside of his shaft. His cock jumped in his hand as Joel let out a breathy laugh.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, “Look me in the eyes honey– look me in the eyes when you lick my balls.” Joel jerked his cock above your face as you continued to lick at his heavy balls – your eyes locked with his.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he choked out through groans, “Suck on ‘em, baby, suck on my balls.”

Blinking up at him you tried your best to fit one of them in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking greedily and lapping at the skin, before you moved on to treat the other with the same amount of love.

Joel’s mouth dropped open in a gape, his breath coming out quicker and more staggered. He squeezed himself harder at the base with each jerk before skating his thumb over the swollen head, massaging it. 

“Fuck,” he panted, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

Popping his balls from your mouth you hurriedly sat up in front of him, the tip off his cock brushing over the plump of your bottom lip with every thug of his cock.

“Please, sir,” you begged, “Please, come in my mouth.”

Joel wasn’t one to deny your request, especially not when you were sat so pretty in front of him with your tongue sticking out.

A second later, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth and came – balls drawn tight as he shot his load down your throat. The force of it made you gag a little at first, the restriction around his sensitive cock only making him come harder. He groaned above you as you sucked him dry, before he pulled back when it was too much, and caught his breath.

“Say Ah,” he said, a gentle but firm hand cupping your jaw. The squeeze of his fingers made your mouth drop open to reveal the cum coated on your tongue and where it pooled at the back of your throat. “Don’t swallow– Let me see, darlin’.”

Your smile fought against his grip. Sticking your tongue out the best you could, you let him see the state he’d left you in; chin coated in saliva, tears starting to dry on your cheeks, mouth puffy and fucked, and marked in this stranger’s cum.

“Pretty as a picture,” he tutted before he let go of your jaw, and with a pat to your cheek finally gave you permission to swallow.

After that it was like the spell had broken between you. Joel helped you to your feet, both of you giggling when your legs wobbled like a foal unsteady on its feet. He held you upright with a strong hand to your waist, while the other one traveled up the length of your body to cup your face, and bring it closer to place a slow and sensual kiss to your lips.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’d never done anything like that before?” You asked him a moment later as he helped you clean your face by the sink.

Joel gave you a look in the mirror.

“You don’t?” you exclaimed.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly casual shrug, “It ain’t your first time suckin’ dick that’s for sure,” he teased with a pinch to your side which made you jump.

Giving him a playful shove, you said, “I’m not lying! I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

“Well, the night’s still young,” Joel joked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and dipping his head to place a soft kiss to the column of your neck.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the soft grip of his hands on your body, and the soft presses of his kisses as you watched the two of you in the mirror. You found that you liked the reflection looking back at you, and if you were lucky, you hoped he liked it too; maybe enough to want to see you again.

“I can’t go back out there like this,” you said after a moment.

Your dress had finally dried, but so had the beer – staining it yellow.

Joel lifted his head from your neck to rest his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scanned your body in the mirror. 

“I have a flannel in my truck I can borrow you?”

“More layers in this heat?” you questioned, already sweating at the thought.

A wide grin spread across Joel’s face, full of mischief, “I guess I’ll just have to take ‘em off of you later, then.”

Turning around in his hold, you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair curling at his neck as you met his eyes. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you whispered, painfully aware of the wet stain of arousal soiling your panties and sticking to your cunt.

“No, it doesn’t,” Joel hummed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. 

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked and brushed your lips over his.

A moment later Joel guided you out the restrooms with a protective hand resting at the small of your back. Weaving through the crowd, you’d made your way almost to the exit when you heard a shout of your name over the music.

“There you are!” Sarah shouted again as she moved through the crowd towards you and Joel, arms reached out to the sky.

“Oh! And you’ve finally met my dad!”

i hope this was okay and that someone liked this? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[asapeveryday]

EXPERIENCE - S.HINATA ♥︎☀︎

PAIRING: Shoyo Hinata x Reader

WARNINGS: smut :)

SUMMARY: seeing Shoyo after some time spent in Brazil shocks you. He’s stronger, tanner, and most of all more experienced.

A/N: summer themed fics are where I thrive. Enjoy <3

“I’M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU!” He smiles, muscles rippling as his arms stretch wide to engulf you in his grasp. He looks different, feels different, but comfortingly smells the same. Citrusy deodorant and sunscreen; summer. It sends waves of nostalgia throughout your body,

“Hinata!” You exclaim, surprised at his contact. It had been a year since you last saw him at Karasuno’s graduation, staying in touch while being abroad had proven to be hard for both of you. You hadn’t heard from him in what felt like forever.

“Hinata?” He frowns, pulling away. “I wasn’t just ‘Hinata’ back at school, was I?”

“No, you weren’t.” You rub your head, embarrassed at the reminder of how close you once were. “Sorry, Shoyo.”

“Better!” He smiles. It’s the same smile from a year ago, just on tanner, rio-kissed skin and a more built, distracting body.

It’s then that you figure you want much more of him than when you’re getting. During the day he raves on about Brazil’s amazing night-life, and in the evening when he suggests going out for drinks you put it in your head at that moment that you’d make a move on him. If all fails, blame it on the alcohol.

And it didn’t fail.

Tumbling into his tiny apartment at 3 am after a couple hours of dancing pressed against his athletic body and downing drink after drink was exhilarating. All it took was the roll of your hip onto his groin, music pumping and a perfectly timed glance and Shoyo was yours.

The door shuts behind you and he presses you against the cold wall. You’re sticky from tropical humidity and his hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat. Though the AC is eternally on in his little place, you’ve never felt hotter.

His flexed thigh between your legs and calloused hands gripping your waist under your top may be contributing to this, or maybe it’s the way his tongue dances with yours in a way you’ve never quite experienced. Obviously living in Brazil has helped Shoyo experience a lot.

You part from the kisses to gingerly flip your top over your head. This is met with an eager smile from Shoyo, who almost beams as he takes off his own shirt. It takes everything in you to not let your jaw drop to the floor.

He’s ripped. Insanely ripped. Far more muscular than you ever remember him being, even in his third year of high school. What once was a faintly toned abdomen have been replaced with abs that you’d eat a meal off of with no complaints. You stare for a bit too long, because Shoyo’s face grows red and he starts to huff impatiently.

“Is something on me?” He asks innocently, and you laugh. “No, I’m just surprised.” You say, eyeing the way his biceps look as his arms cage you against the wall. You can only imagine how strong his thighs are under his shorts.

“Surprised?” He asks, leaning against your neck and pressing sweet kisses onto your skin. You take the chance to let your hands graze his upper body, starting from his collarbones. He leans into your touch as you feel his pecs, his honed core, before settling your hands on his obliques.

“Yes Sho, I’m surprised,” you murmur. “You just look so strong.”

Those words seem to flip a switch in him, because he abruptly picks you up. His hands support your ass as your legs instinctively wrap around his body, and grins at your gasp. “I am.” He says proudly. “I’ve been busy.”

Your lips crash into his once again as he maneuvers himself around his small apartment before finally making it to his bedroom. The bed is small but you couldn’t care less as he gently tosses you onto it and climbs on top of you. His hands toy with your breasts over your bra before popping one out and sucking.

You let your fingers run through his hair as he nips at your chest, enjoying the way your breathing hitches. Eventually his lips trail from your tits to your stomach, and finally just above your shorts. His hands timidly grasp the denim before he pauses and looks up at you, once again eager. “Can I take these off?” He asks. “And…you know.”

You laugh at his awkward question, but your stomach is lurching at the thought. You can almost feel his excited tongue lapping at your folds with no holding back, you can feel his breath on your sensitive skin, you can feel his eyes staring at you wide with anticipation.

“Yes, take them off Shoyo. N’show me what you’ve learnt.”

[midnightmah07]

Daiggie's adult/married designs are here 🥺🥺 took me a while but!! This was fun!! I'm literally having such a big brainrot over their future so imma dump some stuff under the cut 😭😭

Oh also!!! I drew little Maggie here<3 I'm still unsure about the colors of her design but for now this is her official (child version) design!

Daisy decided to work as a pre school teacher when Deuce and Ace told her how good she was at handling children, she also liked the idea of being a teacher because she really admires Trein's job!

Trein unofficially adopted Daisy after she graduated NRC, he let her stay at his house with him in the Shaftlands because she had nowhere else to go, and she only moved once she managed to find a job at Sunset Savannah and find a place to move in with Ruggie after their marriage.

Daisy's documents were arranged right after she graduated. She made sure to get everything she needed, including registering as a citizen with the name "Daisy" instead of "Eléa", but stayed without a surname until she married Ruggie, then she took his surname as hers.

Ruggie has the habit of showing up to Daisy's work with a few flowers (daisies and dandelions) to gift to her whenever he can. Daisy's students didn't know she was married to Ruggie once they saw him at first, but they always tried playing cupid for the both of them, since they thought Ruggie was merely trying to hit on their teacher. Ruggie told Daisy to not tell them for a while because he thought it was cute how the kiddos tried to set them up. When they found out they went crazy.

Ruggie got offered a job as a Spelldrive player after a match in his third year of NRC. He has been working as a pro for a while and is able to support himself and his granny, but Leona still offered a job in the palace and said the position was always open if he changed his mind.

The school Daisy teaches at has different cutesy names for each class, and Daisy's classroom is named "pumpkin".

Daisy's pregnancy was 100% accidental and it happened on their 3rd year of marriage. They weren't thinking about kids still since they wanted to enjoy each other for a few more years, but were overjoyed with the idea, Ruggie was so shocked by the news his coach had to send him home for the day bc he kept messing up during practice.

Ruggie is extremely beloved by Daisy's students and they're always happy whenever he arrives. He's always willing to play with them and act as a big brother figure, which makes Daisy super happy and charmed.

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — EPILOGUE 3, begin again

jo yuri and choi yena's wedding.

WARNINGS ; implied depression, mentions of overworking, slightly suggestive, mentions of broken homes (2.4k)

y/n wished that it was her up on that altar with wonyoung.

the hues of white and gold twinkled against the sunlight, the heat of the californian sun blinding everyone in the venue. yuri's dress, a hanbok beautifully accentuated with gold, ruffled in the wind, yena standing across from her soon-to-be wife with tears in her eyes.

y/n couldn't focus as they began to open their letters, the couple's vows written in great length (and the last time y/n asked yuri, she had almost two pages).

all she saw was jang wonyoung, standing across from her with a soft smile, watching the couple exchange their speeches.

the wonyoung she knew was still there, bits and pieces of the shy, caring girl she fell in love with years ago making herself known through each smile and laugh. her smile was still angelic, but gone was the burden of her last name. she walked lighter, the shackles of expectations now released from her .

she wasn't jang wonyoung, the daughter of a politician. she wasn't jang wonyoung, the promising volleyball player and the hope of suma, nor was she 'victory' jang, yoo 'the ace of korea' jimin's shadow.

she was wonyoung, just wonyoung.

and somehow, despite the years apart, wonyoung looked as beautiful as ever. she seemed much older, wiser, yet it was all the same. with her hair slightly shorter, y/n could tell she had gained some weight in her cheeks. her eyes, still doe-like, never seemed brighter, and from where she stood, y/n could see someone familiar.

she didn't know why, but y/n wanted to fall in love with this wonyoung, just like she she fell in love with her wonyoung.

y/n's eyes tore away from her ex, the entirety of the venue cheering as yena and yuri kissed.

she clapped half-heartedly, her mind and eyes wandering to the tall girl standing on the other side.

she was happy for the two, knowing how hard it must've been for them. y/n knew about their rough patch and the long-distance relationship they had during yena's overseas training. she admired them honestly, the way they pushed through it.

y/n wanted to be like them, so sure they'd be better for the other person.

she glanced at wonyoung, their eyes meeting.

it was pathetic, honestly. she was still hung up on her ex from college despite graduating so long ago. even through her multiple counselling and therapy sessions, she couldn't let go of it.

she did all the steps. she explored her options, dating around but nothing truly sticking. she took care of herself, both mentally and physically. she focused on her career, finally a well known actress.

but it always ended with wonyoung in her heart, no matter how much her mind wanted it to stop.

yuri and yena walked down the aisle, and beside her, jiwon and minju had already begun to cry.

(she was sure after their toasts later, jiwon would sob a river.)

it was bittersweet, knowing that when she was young, she had always dreamed that she and her wonyoung would be walking down in a similar fashion, somewhere in france.

wiping a stray tear on her cheek, y/n smiled. they followed suit with the now-wedded couple, cheers erupting as flowers littered the hot air.

y/n looked forward at the couple.

wonyoung didn't.

the after-party started right after aeri's toast.

they had moved to a much bigger, more ambient venue once the ceremony had ended. it was a couple minutes away from the vineyard, yet it was enough to fill the entirety of the one hundred guests and the couple's requests.

wonyoung knew coming in that there would be a huge bar with a plethora of fine wines and liquor. yena had asked her months ago about the most expensive services money could buy. beside it, a photo booth with yena and yuri's cardboard cutouts stood. tables littered the floor, the front designated for the two brides. in the center was the dance floor, a huge, rave-like stage sat in the middle.

she was surprised that the two didn't bother to buy a disco ball while they were at it.

"yeah," yujin hiccuped, raising a glass of champagne in her hand. she watched as yena messily made out with her now-wife in the middle of the dance floor. "that's my friend!"

wonyoung smiled. part of her wished rei could've come to humble yujin a tad, but things were already hard on her with the mention of jiwon. if she were to see the kim, fully dressed up, she was sure to have a mental breakdown.

gaeul sat yujin down, the taller girl leaning on her fiancée.

"is yujin-unnie drunk already?"

her eyes wandered for a moment, settling on the actress who constantly invaded her mind.

unlike wonyoung who was mostly known for her brand, l/n y/n was a name you heard everywhere. her face was on billboards, her smile on screens. everywhere she looked, everything she heard was y/n, or at least adjacent to her.

it hurt for a while, seeing the girl you loved everywhere but not hearing from her. wonyoung had waited months for a text back, for a call.

nothing came, and it was enough for wonyoung to know that y/n was done with her.

but the years of drowning herself in horrible music, expensive wine, and using work as a distraction paid off. VKY took off, and the bigger it got, the worse and worse her mind became.

the first few months of success felt like a failure.

"she was drunk during the ceremony, actually." gaeul clarified, ignoring the sulking girl beside her.

wonyoung was thankful for them, dragging her away from her desk and forcing her to face everything she worked so hard to push away. gaeul, rei and yujin urged her to go get help, and despite her parents raising hell to prevent wonyoung, she did.

she hated taking those stupid pills though.

"i was not!" yujin sulked, clinging onto gaeul like saran wrap. "i was tipsy."

wonyoung glanced once more at her ex, y/n smiling at some joke yuri had made.

she got over it, the ghosting. it took a year or two (or three), but she did. she cried, she drank, she tried to forget. wonyoung even journaled, her baby blue leather book filled with tears and pain.

still, she could never get over y/n.

it was by accident. wonyoung had found out when she was going through her contacts with yujin, the two talking about other notable people to model for her newest collection. yujin, always making sure never forgot, mentioned the actress. out of curiosity, she checked, only to realize that her number was wrong.

and then she panicked even further.

('wrong number.' she had double-checked with jiwon.)

"baby," yujin whined, her eyes watery. "i wanna dance."

the olympian tugged on her fiancée, huffing at gaeul's sluggish movements. yujin's emotions always got amplified tenfold when she drank, and years later, it was still the same.

"i'm gonna go with her." gaeul grinned, gathering her purse as yujin tugged harder. "she'll start telling people we're married if i don't."

"we are!"

"we are not." gaeul's voice blended into the background, finally giving into yujin's request. "our wedding is next year, yujinnie."

the music continued to blast around them, wonyoung watching as they walked into the surprisingly active crowd (but what did she expect from yena and yuri's friends?). their figures blurred into the horde, leaving wonyoung alone at the table.

she looked at her glass, dripping as the cold mingled with the hotter air.

it was lonely, being twenty-six years old and watching your friends get married. she achieved success, all the things her father was sure she would never reach. but not once was she date. she didn't want to date anyone, and when she did, it wasn't her.

it wasn't y/n.

wonyoung felt like she was back in that stupid bathtub, drinking some wine she grabbed from the dollar store, and playing some music that someone probably dedicated to their ex. her eighteen-year-old self would probably sit beside her, crying in her arms. she'd probably even throw up on the ta-

"hey."

l/n y/n.

familiar yet different, everything and nothing, hers but no ones.

"hi." wonyoung smiled, her grin soft but her heart hammering.

y/n's nerves crackled in the dim light, the sun setting behind her. for years, she had dreamt about this, pathetically so.

"can i sit here?"

the designer nodded. "go ahead."

the decorated chair scraped the floor lightly, y/n taking place on it. she was close enough to feel, the heat of her skin permeating onto wonyoung's, their knees nearly touching. wonyoung strained her ears, hyper-aware of every move, every breath, everything that was y/n.

she was over the hurt, but wonyoung would never be over y/n.

"congrats, by the way."

wonyoung glanced at the shorter girl's hands, watching as she rubbed her knuckles. "on what?"

"on your brand." y/n whispered, her words coming out slightly forced and awkward. "i remember you always liked stuff like that."

she always tried to hide it, but y/n remembered freshman year, and the little pastel blue notebook wonyoung would hide in her nightstand.

"i did." wonyoung fought the urge to look up, to steal a glance, afraid that this was just another dream. "i just never had the time to."

fear always ruled jang wonyoung.

the fear of imperfection, of loss and pain. it lingered in the halls of the jang household, long before wonyoung was born. it was a birthright that she had no say in, one acquired through her father's actions and her mother's words.

wonyoung wasn't scared anymore.

the taller girl's eyes met with y/n's, a soft sigh escaping her mouth. y/n was way more beautiful than she remembered, her cat-like eyes and her mole pairing with her smile.

"how's hyunseo?"

"she's good." wonyoung closed her eyes, letting out another breath as she relaxed. "we visited hannah's grave a couple weeks back."

y/n had never heard of hannah, her name a foreign word to the actress. she tried to wrack her mind for any memories, but every single one came out empty.

"hannah?" y/n sighed softly. "who's hannah?"

wonyoung stared at her, her eyes softening. it felt so freeing, finally being able to say her name. "hannah was someone who meant a lot to me."

even after years, a near decade, y/n could still read the bits and pieces of wonyoung. how she'd look away, contemplating on telling more. how the girl take a sip of water, trying her best to calm down.

wonyoung was still so similar to the girl she met, the girl she loved, and the girl she let go.

"why didn't you tell me that you were the deleted number?" her mouth moved before she could process her words.

"huh?" wonyoung froze, and from the corner of her eye, she could see the crowd getting larger and larger. "oh, um, i didn't think it mattered anymore."

if wonyoung was eighty percent sure she let go, then she was sure y/n definitely did.

and before, as soon as those words left wonyoung's mouth, y/n would already be in hysterics. her heart would be ripped in two, and she'd go silent, trying her best to figure out what she did wrong.

"it mattered to me." it felt like the world lifted off her shoulders. "you should've said something."

their eyes met once more.

"i panicked." wonyoung's voice was sheepish, a small dust of red coating her face. "it was stupid of me, i know. i just..."

y/n's fingers twitched, her mind itching to touch her wonyoung again, to figure out who was in there.

"an old habit, i'm guessing?"

she'd love any version of wonyoung, whether it was hers or not.

"a very old habit."

the air danced around them as the night continued, the smell of booze multiplying with each minute. neither moved from their spot, worried that this was the last time - the last chance - they'd get to see each other. so the two sat, stealing glances and people-watching, content with whatever was going to happen next, whether it be good or bad.

a soft whisper traveled into wonyoung's ears, and if she hadn't spent the past eight years yearning for the sound, she might have missed it.

"i'm better now, wonnie."

wonyoung loved that nickname more than life itself. "sorry?"

"my promise." a smile flickered onto the actress's face, and wonyoung found herself afraid of losing her again. "i'm better now."

old habits die hard, but time marched forward. wonyoung knew that they changed, for better or for worse. she knew that no matter what, in sickness and in health, she'd love y/n. they weren't the same two naive girls who were hurting, and even though glimpses of them flashed through, wonyoung was willing.

y/n held her hand, and everything fell into place.

"thank you..." wonyoung could barely hold her tears back. "for keeping your promise."

"anything for you, wonnie."

y/n squeezed her hand, and the room fell silent. wonyoung felt like she was floating. she wasn't sure where she was gonna land, if it was gonna hurt her or anyone else. all she knew was that somewhere, y/n was waiting for her, just like wonyoung had been too.

to love someone was to do the right thing.

"are you seeing anyone?"

"no." a grin splayed across y/n's face, one that was only ever reserved for wonyoung. "i'm not."

jang wonyoung would wait forever. she would wait for the perfect time, sitting idly in the corner of the room. she'd count the seconds as they go by, watching as each hand moved at a snail's pace, but a pace nonetheless.

"good."

l/n y/n couldn't wait. she couldn't sit by and let nature take its course. she could prevent earthquakes and hurricanes if it meant protecting wonyoung. she'd move planets, shapeshift, become someone new... someone better.

"good?"

wonyoung stood up, her hand trembling. she reached out to her y/n, offering a hand. she couldn't keep waiting forever, and she knew y/n couldn't be the only one changing for rest of eternity.

(wonyoung was too grown to keep being an idiot, anyway.)

"dance with me, y/nnie?"

love.

it was still there.

"gladly."

THE END.

masterlist

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@moontealemonpie @rikisgeef @cutieseo @limbforalimb @ahnneyong @yumtooki @lcv3lies @sserajeans @jiwoneiric @blue4hour @trsrina @xyxlyn @misumiausworld @awkwardtoafault @d7dream @slowlyturninggay291 @perfectsunlight @juhyunsthirdwife @uzumakioden @txtbrainrot @rosiehrs @wlwgirlsworld @skisk1 @bzeus28 @deeznutzryu @jisooftme @jihyostolemyheart @li0ilthecxnt @eggomi @ddoxhan @zhivaxo @sweet-dhrafts @bearseulgs @marimo-anura @wonyoluvr @serenitygrace24 @ddeonutz @noiacha @livelaughchoerry @yunnybunnyy @ivy-aurora

[gluion]

first to know you, first to love you ➵ eric sohn

all you should care about is graduating with flying colors, so why are you starting to care about your seatmate?

requested by @mosviqu @sohnric for the song "valentine" by laufey

general genre/warnings ➵ strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, afab reader (they/them pronouns), reader is a psychology student who has so much aspirations (and also believes love and studies cannot be balanced), eric is your seatmate-turned-friend-turned-lover, library dates reading dates study dates you name it!, eric is the most supportive guy out here, he annotates a book for you..., references to books and poetry, he buys you stuff, and he reads a book for you!!, slight hurt/comfort, kissing, also unedited IM SORRY!!!

word count ➵ 10k words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel

a/n ➵ okay i am WITHIN the word limit!! but i know i went over the limit of scenarios (this may be the last time this happens... i don't know yet... help?) but i hope you enjoy this bar!! i am not too happy about my writing style for this one :') and i know reader may not be very "black cat" as i know you but i hope you'll still enjoy it to the fullest </3 also i made sure to not mention anything related to height LMFAO for the other readers: if you enjoyed this, always make sure to reblog (even if it’s on your tbr)!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! want to request? check out my guidelines! masterlist

The years spent in university may be defined differently by everyone. Some may live out these years to enjoy the supposed independence they craved in high school. Others may spend those years exploring their interests and hobbies as they figure out what their future may have in store for them.

You, however, were a different case—head in scientific journals and coursework with a plan to graduate summa cum laude. As you study in a quota course, you’re determined to come out of university with flying colors. In a sea of students who are of similar (or even better) skill sets as you, the desire to be recognized as one of the top students is what you long for.

And for you, that means you were set on not entertaining ideas that may divide your attention from your studies—you were not going to allow yourself to fall in love in your years of university.

That is until a certain boy who goes by Eric Sohn came into your life.

CHAPTER ONE: LOVE LABORS LOST

The season of summer still lingers in the air; birds chipper as they sit on the tree branches; the sun glows yellow in the sea of blue; people point their fans at themselves as they are forced to bask in the heat.

But the new academic year has commenced, and you are determined to ace your classes once more. You’ve read the syllabi of all the classes you were going to take, even ones for your general subjects. Many people believe that general subjects are a waste of their time. You, however, thought differently, especially since one of the subjects you’re taking this semester is English Literature.

Coming from a STEM-oriented course, you may not seem like the type to enjoy literature. But the reality is that you love to learn about poets and writers—ones who seemed to craft worlds and dynamics that you could never translate into words. This misconception of those who enjoy science being unable to appreciate written bodies of art is one you face. But at least this course is a general subject, leaving you on equal footing with individuals from different courses.

You sit by the window as you wait for your professor to finish setting up his laptop. It’s syllabus week, so there wasn’t much to be worried about. Once he clears his throat, he shows the class a smile.

“Good morning, class. I’m Mr. Hwang Taejoon, and I am your professor for Introduction to English Literature.” He takes a moment to look down at his clipboard which you can only assume holds a list of his students’ names. “If this isn’t your class, you may take this opportunity to leave.” Some students get off their seats and make their way outside the classroom.

As soon as they left, your professor smiled before clapping his hands. “I’m excited to go through this semester with you. I know this is only an introductory course for you, so I will make sure to guide you all throughout. Now, will–”

The door of the classroom slams open. Your eyes snap to where the sound comes from, showing a boy whose black hair is all tousled up as he pants. He’s all dressed up in a varsity jacket over his hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. You notice how his hand quickly reaches out to his head, fixing his hair. 

The boy then immediately bows down to the class (mostly to your professor) as he says, “Sorry about being late!” Your eyes drift back to Mr. Hwang whose face now holds a frown in contrast to the smile he once showed to you. “I promise, I won’t be late for any other session!”

Mr. Hwang grumbles before he takes another look back down to his clipboard. “Go take a seat.”

The boy stands up straight before flashing your professor an apologetic smile. He quickly makes his way to find a seat. Despite the vacant seats that are located throughout the class, his eyes quickly skimmed through them. That is until his eyes land on you. You notice how his eyes flicker to the empty seat beside you. And the next thing you know, you find him situated to your right.

You try to keep your eyes on your laptop, looking at the text on the syllabus. You didn’t want to stare at him—the boy who took the vacant seat beside you out of all the ones situated around the classroom.

The noise he creates as he brings out his laptop is not loud enough to interrupt the discussion but can drown out your professor’s words. But as soon as he settles down, you notice that he sets his hand down on the space between the two laptops. You cannot help but let your eyes flicker to it, and you notice his wrist is littered with beaded bracelets.

“Now, I’ll be discussing the outputs you are expected to deliver within the semester.” Your eyes snap up to where your professor is, standing right behind the table as he looks through his laptop.

You were ready to focus for today’s session until you felt someone tap your shoulder. As you look to your side, you are met with a boy who shows you a smile—one that is enough to almost have you smiling back, just almost.

“Hi, can I ask if there was anything I missed?” It’s a simple question, but you find yourself unable to formulate an answer. His voice is enough to send you into a lullaby; he could have his own podcast and you’d listen only to hear him speak nonstop, whether it would be of logical discussions or nonsensical chatter.

Without any idea of how to voice your thoughts, you only shake your head. He nods and shoots you a wink before looking back to the professor.

You should’ve been thrown off by his sudden action. If anything, you have every right to roll your eyes at him. But you do nothing of the sort, only looking back at your professor who demands your attention while your mind remains preoccupied with the boy beside you.

This could be due to all the years focused on your studies. You could care less about all the people who tried to earn your affection, from your classmates in your majors to even those part of the same club as you. But the boy emits an aura that has you only thinking of him. How can you ace this class if you’re turning putty at the first meeting? You need to get a better grip on yourself.

“Now, I want you to answer these,” Mr. Hwang says as he flashes a question on the screen: What role does literature play in your life? “And talk about it with your seatmates. Now would be a good time to get to know your classmates with the upcoming paired assessment around the corner.”

As you read out the words on the screen, you are not given enough time to think as the boy beside you clears his throat. You look back at him, met with the same smile he flashed at you then. Does he do this with every person he first meets?

“I think I should introduce myself. I’m Eric Sohn, majoring in Hotel Culinary Arts,” he says with his hand out toward you. You take a glance at his hand before letting yourself hold it, shaking it firmly.

“I’m Y/N, majoring in Psychology.”

You notice the way his eyes widen as you mention your course. “Do you perhaps know someone named Kevin Moon?”

The mention of your friend’s name has you smiling. “Yeah, I do. We’ve worked together since we’re part of our home org. How do you know him?” Your hand drifts away from his, crossing your arms as you listen intently to what he has to say.

“Mutual friends,” he reveals as he lets one of his arms rest on the back of your chair. With one hand tucked under his chin, he rests his arm on the table. He takes a glance at the screen shown in the front to refresh his memory on the question. “Would you like to go first? Or do you want me to start?”

You nod your head, signaling for him to start. He takes a deep breath as he looks up to the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. “Well, I’ve read a few books then and there, but I think it was only when I entered uni that I started really reading more books if that makes sense.”

As his eyes meet yours, you nod as a way to show you understand him. “Yeah, I hate to admit this at first meeting but I’m a very romantic person.” You cannot help but raise your eyebrows at his words, earning a chuckle from him.

“I swear, I am! That’s why I started reading because my sister got me hooked on some romance books, so I’d like to think that literature helps me imagine scenarios I would love to see play out.” You notice the way he starts to scratch the back of his neck. “It doesn’t have to be me as the protagonist, but I’d like it,” he shyly admits, making you smile unconsciously.

God, you were not the type to just smile at some random boy. So why did Eric seem to have this effect on you?

Your thoughts snap you back into reality; the smile is now replaced by your calm demeanor. “I guess I can start.” As you see him signal for you to continue, you bite the inside of your cheek as you let your eyes drift to the screen.

“Well, I’ve been reading my whole life, actually,” you look back at Eric who seems to show genuine interest in what you have to say. Oddly enough, you feel as if you can tell him more than just the typical story you tell people.

“I know people don’t expect me to be this type because I major in Psychology, and I have this tendency to read a lot of scientific journals and textbooks for my classes but that’s because I enjoy learning about the human condition.” You let your eyes drift off to nowhere as you reveal a part of you to a stranger. Maybe it’s because he’s a stranger that makes it easier for you to admit details you wouldn’t normally admit to someone whom you’ve met under a different circumstance.

“But I’ve always had an affinity for reading. Books can be a form of escapism through fictional stories, but they can also be a way to encapsulate memories of someone,” you continue with a small sigh. “I have been quite behind with my reading schedule though, so I’m hoping this class may propel me back to getting back to reading.”

He hums as he nods before saying, “No, I get it. I like that answer.” You look back at the boy who only smiles at you. “It’s nice to know that you still want to go back to reading despite how much your other classes demand it. I know many people who’ve lost that love and don’t see themselves going back to it, you know?” You nod at his words.

You were no stranger to the love-hate relationship when it comes to reading. If anything, that is how you’d describe your relationship when it comes to the hobby. But you were hoping that the upcoming years would treat you right and that your love for said hobby may not dissipate. 

“Yeah, I would hate to lose that form of escapism from my studies.”

He nods with a small chuckle following. “I get it, I would hate to lose it, too.”

With no idea how to respond, you expect silence to follow. But Eric quickly fills it as he asks you a question. “Do you know anyone in this class?” As you shake your head, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, same.”

You cannot help but giggle. “I mean, if I knew someone, then I would be sitting with them,” you point out.

You want to ask him why he chose to take a seat beside you, but he beats you to it by asking you another question. “Do you have a class before this?”

“Uh, no,” you say as you quickly take a glance at your laptop, moving the windows away to show your schedule. Since the semester just started, you didn’t memorize your schedule. “It’s my first class of the day, but my next class is around 3.” You look back at the boy who cannot hide the way he reels at your schedule.

“You have such a long break. But me too,” he says as he pulls out his phone. As he shows you his schedule, you notice how big of a gap he has for today, where his next class is happening around 6 p.m. “But at least the other days are back-to-back. I just didn’t get lucky with my Mondays and Thursdays. I tried to change it but all the professors denied my request.”

You cannot help but sigh at the sight of his schedule as you remember yours. “Same. Well, I guess we’re stuck with our shitty schedules.”

Then, he asks, “Do you want to exchange schedules and numbers, perhaps?” Your eyebrows shoot up at his question. “I mean, I just don’t know anyone here, so I’d love to at least have a familiar face I can go to, especially for this class.”

You know you’re about to enter dangerous territories. With the numerous books you’ve read, you were sure this is what books typically started their stories with—a meeting between the two protagonists whose relationship will only have room to blossom.

And you should have kept him at arm's length. You didn’t want to risk getting friendly with someone like Eric because even at the first meeting, you couldn’t help but feel yourself drawn to him. But he’s nothing but kind and there should be no problem with allotting him space to take up in your life. All you need to do is stick to your plan—no idea of pursuing romance shall be entertained until you graduate. You can only hope that your interest in him is just a happy crush, one that will never flourish further. 

So you find yourself nodding to his request to which he grins. But before he can say anything, the light comes through the window. He squints as it hits his face, raising his hand to shield his eyes.

“Here, you can put your number and social media then I’ll send you my schedule.” The boyish grin on his face alongside the sunlight that makes him glow is a sight the universe has gifted to you.

You’ve read all about protagonists being bewitched by the presence of another, but works of literature have not prepared you to experience the same. For once, you wish you could find the right words to describe the sight but all you can think of is what a pleasure it is to be seeing this at the start of your day—you can only hope that your happy crush remains that way.

CHAPTER TWO: LITTLE WOMEN

The later hours of the day dawned upon you. The fluorescent overhead lights are dim as only the lamps situated at every table shine bright; you enjoy them for they never make the library bleak. The wooden interior found in every corner of this library reminds you of your own back in your childhood home. But the main act of the show is the books; the wide selection they offer has you always here at every possible hour, whether it may be to study or to possibly read for leisure.

You usually find yourself alone on most occasions spent here. If you found yourself working on a group project, you would usually opt to have such meetings at the study hall situated a few buildings away. It made sense to have those in a place where you could freely talk versus a library where it would be limited to occasional chatter or whispers. Today, however, is an exception, for you now sit across from your partner for your first paired work for Mr. Hwang’s class.

“I don’t usually spend my time here, but it’s nice,” Eric voices out as he looks around, taking in the sight of his surroundings. There were barely any students in the library around these hours. Usually, it would be you and some familiar faces you recognized because of the numerous instances you stayed here.

You’re not sure why you didn’t push for the study hall, but Eric’s explanation for choosing this place made sense. If you were going to study literature, why not do it in a place that is filled to the brim with it? It’s convenient if you need to quickly pull out a book because you’re already there. But the reality is that you liked this space as your own—somewhat like a part of the university that you believe to reflect the intimate parts of you.

You hum while you look down at your iPad where your notes are all scribbled down. “I’m always here. I spend most of my time studying or reading here.” You look up to Eric whose gaze is trained on you. Oddly enough, it feels like his eyes sparkle despite how dim the environment may be.

With that, you break eye contact with him as you look over a few tables away where you notice students who you knew only by their faces. “Yeah, like I know some of the people there just because we always seem to stay in the library until the closing hours.”

He hums before asking, “Do you know their names?” You shake your head before looking back at him.

“I only know the names of the librarians and staff. I’ve never been bothered to know the names of the other students, but we still say hi whenever we pass by each other.”

He can only nod at your words. “Sorry about interrupting the discussion, we can go back to it.”

“It’s fine.” You cannot help but smile as you shake your head. “It was a break we needed to take.”

He shoots you that boyish grin—one you’ve grown fond of after seeing him every week for class—before he continues, “So, we were talking about the confession scene of Laurie.”

“Ah, that one,” you cut him off as you lean back in your chair.

He chuckles for a moment. “So, what are your thoughts on the scene?”

You let out a sigh before saying, “Well, I am 100% on Jo’s side. I mean, she has every right to decline a man’s confession, especially if she has all these aspirations she wants to achieve.” You bite on the inside of your cheek as you recall the passages in your head. “And the audacity for Laurie to be, I guess, “jealous” of Professor Bhaer is unreasonable. I mean, it’s clear she doesn’t have room for anything romantic in her life, and I think that should be respected.”

“But,” Eric quickly scrolls through his notes found on his laptop. “Don’t we learn later on that Jo ends up longing for love in the end? Doesn’t she end up wanting both—a chance to pursue her dreams while also longing to be in love?”

You cannot help but chuckle at his counterargument. “Yes, but I think that this book was written poorly. I mean, we learned in the earlier chapters that Jo did not want to marry, and didn’t we also learn that Alcott only wrote Jo and Bhaer marrying each other because her publishers forced her?”

Eric hums for a moment. “I mean, we do learn that. But I think another way to look at it is that Jo was not ready to let someone take up such an important space at that period of her life. And I think it’s perfectly fine for her to realize later on that what she thought then is not what she wants after all.” With pursed lips, he lets his gaze flicker away from the laptop and back to you. “I know we put relevance to the context of the author, but I think it’s fine to derive our own interpretations of the text despite what the author intended, you know? That’s at least what I learned in my Art Appreciation class.”

Your partner for this assignment brought up valid points. It’s not like he was telling you to agree entirely with his interpretation of the later sequence of Little Women. Instead, he was engaging in discourse with you, sharing what he thought of the scene to provide a different perspective.

“I just,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I just think Jo’s character was so revolutionary in the field of classics. I’ve read so much about women being viewed as individuals who are only meant to marry, but authors never put importance into their aspirations. I think that’s why I loved Jo’s character.” When you notice that Eric keeps his gaze on you without any sign that he’ll interrupt, you decide to continue. “She clearly had her priorities and wasn’t willing to let the idea of romance get in the way.”

Eric’s expression slowly starts to shift into confusion. Despite your words speaking on Jo’s character, it was starting to make sense to both of you that these sentiments came from a personal standpoint.

“Is this you speaking from experience?”

For a moment, you think of lying to the boy who sits across from you. You didn’t want to hear whatever comments he would make of your own choice to keep your love life as lackluster as possible. Yet, his eyes speak thousands of words—all revolving around curiosity. And you realize that maybe Eric won’t judge you. After all, when has he ever shown you that he would criticize you?

You sigh as you let your eyes look down at your notes. “I’m not looking for a relationship, or love, in general. I don’t think I have the time to even sustain one, and I care too much about my studies to even consider it.” You look back at Eric whose doe eyes still seem to shine.

He nods, letting silence take over. Your answer hangs in the air, almost as if you two needed it to marinate further. That is until Eric decides to break the silence.

“Do you ever get jealous of what you read?” You cannot help but tilt your head at his question. He shakes his head, trying to gather the right words to say. “I mean, you’ve read so many books, and I’m sure many of them have revolved around the theme of love and romance, especially the classics. Do you not want to experience that for yourself?”

Eric’s question seemed to be rooted in genuine curiosity. And you cannot help but ponder over his words.

It’s true that you would find yourself longing to experience the wonders of love that writers seem to talk about. It would be untrue if you said you didn’t give the idea a second thought—what would it be like to allow yourself to enjoy romance all while you study for your degree? But then you remember that there wasn’t anyone, really, to have you consider such. It was only an idea you would think about but never proceed with—there was no one to take up that space in your life to begin with.

So you sigh, shaking your head as you look back down at your notes, and say, “It’s not like anyone has given me a reason to reconsider.” You leave it at that, deciding not to indulge in the topic any further. And Eric only hums, looking back at his notes.

You take this opportunity to review your notes, recollecting every detail that is worth discussing with Eric for the upcoming presentation. Unbeknownst to you, however, your partner has his mind preoccupied with another matter—what can he do to become the reason you consider?

CHAPTER THREE: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

The moon may be shining brightly tonight, but you’ll never know. All huddled up in the library, the lamp on your table shines over your laptop and sprawled-out notes. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this library. All you know is that you still have papers to accomplish and exams to study for.

But at least you were going through this in the comfort of your favorite spot in the university for they seemed to keep the library open all day during midterm season. And at least you had someone there to keep you company during this mess.

“This paper is impossible,” Eric complains as he rubs his eyes from exhaustion. You’re sure it’s past midnight. “What did you write your paper on?”

You cannot help but yawn. “Uh, I wrote it on Still I Rise just because it answers the prompt pretty well.” With droopy eyes, you look at your friend who now leans his head on his arm that is propped up on the table.

“Man, that’s good.” You cannot help but chuckle at his reaction. “I’m hesitant about using a poem just because I’m scared I won’t be able to share my thoughts well. Like, I know I talked about how we interpret the text as something that matters, but sometimes I cannot make sense of what these poets are saying.” His tired expression shows how long he’s been pondering on what to write.

With the paper due a few days from now, you were sure Eric was pressured to think of anything to write about. So you decide to lean back in your chair, brainstorming for anything to help him. Yet, you only draw a blank, clearly exhausted from all the studying and writing you’ve been doing.

His cackle comes out of the blue. Your eyes snap to his face, seeing that his crinkled eyes are set on you. You don’t miss how the students around your area shush him. Eric is suddenly aware of how loud he is as he cannot help but sink into his chair out of embarrassment.

“Sorry, the expression you had on your face made me laugh,” he shyly admits.

You frown at him before saying, “Fine, you’re on your own now.” Your eyes dart back to your laptop.

“Okay, wait!” He quietly exclaims as he grabs onto your forearm. Your eyes drift to his hand that rests on your arm, slowly drifting away from exhaustion. Before you can comment, he retracts his hand. “I would love your help.”

As your eyes settle on him, you notice the pout that rests on his lips. His doe eyes still manage to sparkle in the dimly lit room. The sight warms your heart—you almost let your calm demeanor falter.

“I wish I could help but for once, I can’t think of anything.” As you say those words, the cold air hits your skin. You cross your arms as a shiver runs down your spine.

Somehow, Eric is quick to catch on to your behavior. You watch how he pulls off his hoodie, hair ruffled from the action. And before you know it, he hands it to you.

“Here,” he says as he drops it right beside your laptop, covering your notes. Although you shake your head, he can only roll his eyes. “You clearly need it more than I do.”

With no sign that he’ll back down, you cannot help but sigh. You grab onto the piece of clothing and slip it on you, getting a whiff of a fruity and spicy scent that clings onto it. With how big the hoodie is, it almost acts like a blanket. And when you look back at Eric, you notice the soft expression that takes over his face—a smile that is enough to warm your heart.

“I think you should take a nap.” His suggestion has you shaking your head. “You’re clearly tired.”

You roll your eyes before going back to your laptop. “I can’t or else I’ll be behind on my tasks.”

“Okay, but if you only take an hour to nap, I’m sure you’ll feel well-rested enough to work better.”

Your friend made a valid point. At the rate you were going, you were barely absorbing anything. But you didn’t want to slack off nor did you want to fall behind on your studies.

And as if he notices your worries, he says, “I’ll make sure to wake you up an hour from now.”

You cannot hold back the smile that appears on your face. Somehow, Eric knew all the right words to say in the short span of time he has gotten to know you. And before you know it, your arms settle on the table as you find your chin settling on them. Whether it would be from pure exhaustion or Eric’s persuasion, you found yourself settling in a position good enough to allow yourself to nap.

The victory smile that takes over Eric’s features is one you wish you could smack off his face for you know it’s because you ended up listening to him, but it’s also one you want to store in your memories. His grin is enough to have you smiling back, though you bury the bottom half of your face into the sleeves of his hoodie, getting another whiff of his perfume.

He then goes back to his laptop, scrolling away at what you can assume to be the instructions for the essay required by Mr. Hwang. As you watch him ponder, you cannot help but take in his features; from his strong jaw all the way to his eyes that manage to easily shift between a strong glare to a soft gaze. He is someone sculpted by the deities—you weren’t sure why the universe chose you to be graced by his presence.

In your time knowing him, you knew that he presented himself as a goofball to many. He became the life of the party, per se, for he managed to create a comfortable atmosphere for everyone.

And yet, you knew that it’s only a mask he chooses to wear for the sake of others. In these moments, you learn that he is more than just a childish guy. Past all the layers, he is profound—you first learned that when he shared his interpretation of Jo’s character. You hope that he can find more moments where he’ll expose that side to you.

You move your chin to rest on your arms. “Can I ask what’s your favorite book?” Your sudden question has his eyes snapping at you. “I just realized that we’ve known each other for half a semester because of an English Literature class, but I never bothered to ask about your favorite book.”

He cannot help but chuckle before saying, “It’s The Notebook.” His answer has your face contorting into disappointment. “Hey, what’s wrong with that?” The way he gets defensive has you erupting into a giggle.

“It’s just okay for me. I didn’t enjoy it that much when I read it.”

He furrows his eyebrows not due to disapproval but genuine curiosity. “Okay, so what’s your favorite book then?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” The answer leaves your mouth quickly, almost like it’s second nature to answer the question with that title.

He hums before admitting, “I’ve never read it.”

“Yeah, it shows.” The remark leaves your mouth without letting a second thought come. You notice the way Eric’s expression shifts into a scornful one, and you cannot help but giggle. “I just think that you might reconsider what your favorite book is after reading Pride and Prejudice, you know?” He only nods at your words.

You let out a sigh. “I actually want to reread that book after midterms are done.” Your blinks are slow, exhaustion taking over your body.

Eric is quick to notice how sleepy you’re getting. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you up an hour from now.” All you do is hum before snuggling the lower half of your face into the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes now closed.

A few minutes pass, and you hear a chair screech softly. You can only assume that Eric had to use the washroom. But when you heard the chair move once more only a few minutes later, you were sure that he only had to get something.

As you hear him clear his throat for a moment, you keep your eyes closed. You try your best to not show you’re awake. And once more minutes have passed, you decide that the coast is clear.

Once you open one eye, you notice that Eric is leaning back in his chair with a book in his hand. He reads it intently, unaware of your gaze on him. You let your gaze drift to the cover of the book, and it takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. In his hands is a copy of Pride and Prejudice, the same one you found yourself revisiting just to read your favorite passages.

As you let your eyes close, a smile shows on your lips. Thankfully, it is hidden by the sleeves your face is snuggled into. With the sight replaying in your head accompanied by his perfume, your heart warms at the thought of him. You can only hope that he’ll love that book as much as you do—you can only hope that this infatuation will pass.

CHAPTER FOUR: EMMA

The season of fall has come; the sky is a patchwork of hues of orange; the leaves have turned to shades of brown; the wind has gotten cooler. Long gone was the heat that summer brought—you were dying to experience the joys of autumn.

Thankfully, you finished your last class for the day. As students piled out of the classroom, you were taking your time tidying your things. For once, you didn’t have any tasks to accomplish within the day which meant tonight would be time for you to enjoy, all snuggled up in bed as you finally reread Pride and Prejudice.

You were satisfied with the grades you received from your midterm assessments. Somehow, your efforts spent studying reflected well in the feedback your professors provided. Now, you can reward yourself with reading your favorite book.

When you exit the classroom, you expect yourself to go straight back to your dorm. However, the sight of Eric Sohn standing outside with his back leaning on the wall is what disrupts your plans.

“Eric? How did you know I was here?” Your shocked expression has him chuckling.

“We exchanged schedules, remember?” He says as he stands up straight, walking closer to you. You two stood in the middle of the hallway with little to no students in sight. “I kind of got lost, if I’m going to be honest.”

As he admits that information, you cannot help but giggle. “I mean, this is where most of my major classes are. That’s why I’m surprised to see a Hotel Culinary Arts student like you here.” He shoots you that boyish grin which has you smiling back. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure? Do you perhaps need help with the upcoming assessment for Mr. Hwang’s class?” You attempt to joke as you remain unaware of the reason behind Eric’s visit.

But when he pulls out a book from behind his back, your smile shifts into a shocked expression. In his hands is a new copy of Pride and Prejudice, one different from the one that he was reading in the library that one night. As your eyes zero on the book he holds, you do not pay attention to whatever expression Eric may have.

“I finally got around to reading your favorite book, and I have to admit that you’re right. I think this might be my new favorite book,” he hands the book to you. Your hands trail over the cover, still shocked that he ended up finishing it. “And I wanted to finish it before you reread it.”

You were expecting him to only read a few chapters, but for him to find enough time to finish it before you could pick it up? You realized you were screwed.

Your hands find themselves flipping through the pages—and holy shit, there are notes and scribbles all over the pages. “I wanted to annotate it just so you can also read my reactions and interpretations as you reread it.” Your mouth parts open at his words, clearly in awe of the action.

The pages are littered with underlines and circles, highlighting passages and quotes that seem to resonate with Eric. On the margins, you notice notes that are simple one-liners and others that are long enough to fill up the pages’ spaces.

“I–I don’t,” you look up to the boy in front of you. With his smile still plastered on his face, you do everything in you to find the right words to say. Yet, it’s impossible—this is the first time someone has done this for you.

He chuckles at your lack of words and says, “I would love to stay and hear how much you enjoy this, but I unfortunately have a class to get to all the way in the Culinary Arts building.” He lets his hand rest on your shoulder, squeezing it as if it’s his way to snap you out of your trance.

But the thing is you are not in any way out of touch with reality. Not only did he give you an annotated copy of your favorite book but he waited until your last class in a building that is all the way on the opposite side of where he needs to be. And at this moment you knew you were doomed—that this budding infatuation is turning into something more.

“I’ll see you next week in class, okay?” He says with a smile. You can only nod, still unable to speak. “Or tomorrow, if you’d like.” And before you can question him, he quickly makes his way out of the building. You let your eyes watch his figure that continues to sprint away.

As soon as he’s gone, you look back down at the book in your hands. You flip through the pages as you still remain in shock at what he gifted you. That is until you notice a post-it note stuck on the last page. When you open it to the page, you expect it to be an index of what his annotations mean. Instead, it is a message directed towards you, and you cannot help but feel your heartstrings tug at his words.

would you be interested in going on a reading date with me?

❑ yes ❑ no </3

p.s. you can just text me your answer :) maybe we can plan something tomorrow (that is if you see it by the time i give this to you)

And you tell yourself that this is wrong—that you should not be considering his offer no matter how friendly it may be. But with how he’s been treating you, you almost hope that this isn’t just him being friendly. You want to be on the receiving end of his affection—of his love.

It seems stupid to go back on your word of refusing to entertain love. Your plans are focused on graduating summa cum laude without ever allocating space for someone to take up your time. But is it wrong that someone has you reconsidering what you originally thought? Is it a sin for you to want to experience the joys of love despite your past reluctance?

So for once, you fully understand Jo’s character—you want to achieve in your endeavors all while experiencing the joys of love. And there’s nothing wrong with having that mindset after all.

The season of autumn is your favorite; the sight of leaves falling is a sight you cannot help but enjoy watching. In the same way leaves fall from the tree to the ground, you have fallen for Eric Sohn.

CHAPTER FIVE: SONNET 18

“So, what’s your favorite scene from Pride and Prejudice?” You decide to ask Eric as you two pass through shelves filled to the brim with antique books.

He hums as he follows closely behind you. “I think it was the first time Lizzie and Mr. Darcy danced together.”

You glance at the boy behind you, humming along with his answer. “Yeah, I really like Austen’s use of the motif of dance.” You come to a halt as you stand in front of a shelf full of classics. “I mean, she uses dance to show attraction between Mr. Darcy and Lizzie without them even realizing it.” Once you turn your head to face Eric, you notice a smile on his lips.

“Yeah, they’re remarkable,” he mutters as his eyes remain on you.

Under his gaze, your knees start to get weak. You cannot help but gulp as you look back to the shelves with cheeks dusted red.

Today, you and Eric were in the middle of a date—not a reading one, but an actual date. At first, you were nervous about having lunch with him mainly because you weren’t sure what to talk about. But he found a way to lead the conversation, making sure to build an environment where you two could talk about anything and everything.

Eric decided to bring you to an antique bookstore near campus considering that you two share an affinity for reading—though you were more interested compared to him. The selection they have covers fictional classics all the way to nonfiction recipe books. It’s definitely smaller than what the library offers but bigger than another bookstore you tend to frequent.

As your eyes scan through the collection, your eyes catch onto a copy of Sense and Sensibility, another book by Jane Austen that you’ve been meaning to pick up. “Ah! I’ve been meaning to read this,” you exclaim as you pull it out. With your eyes still looking through the selection, you spot another book you’ve wanted to read for a while. “Oh, they also have Wuthering Heights!” As you grab onto the other book, you look down to admire the covers. 

While you’re entranced by all the antique books standing in front of you, Eric cannot help but chuckle at your reaction. You whip your head only to see that god-forbidden boyish grin on his face—the same one that got you hooked onto him at the first meeting. He leans his side on the bookshelf all while he stares at you.

With that, you frown as you tilt your head. “Why are you laughing?” The question that leaves your mouth is out of genuine curiosity.

“No reason,” he starts off. “You’re pretty, especially when you talk about books.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock, thrown off by the sudden compliment. Eric has never been the type to tell you such during your time knowing him but hearing him say it now has your knees weak. Suddenly, all resolve was gone and you had no idea how to respond. 

And before you know it, you say, “You’re pretty, too.”

The words come out quickly without a second thought, and only when they leave your mouth do you realize how weird you are for saying such. But you notice the way his smile gets bigger, and you cannot help but feel your cheeks warm up once more out of flusters and embarrassment.

“Are you done picking out the books you want?”

“Uh, yeah,” you start off as you glance at your books. “What are you going to get?”

He hums as he stands up straight, looking at the shelf in front of you two. “Do you have another book recommendation for me?” He looks back at you.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you hum, thinking of a book. “Maybe Jane Eyre? By Charlotte Brontë?” You’re ready to tell him the synopsis of the book, but he doesn’t spare you another second for he grabs the book.

“Okay,” he smiles as he raises the book up. “I’ll pay for your books while I’m at it.”

You immediately shake your head at his words. “Huh? No, you don’t need to.” You hold the books close to your chest. “You paid for lunch already.”

He rolls his eyes before extending his free hand out to you. “It’s fine. I want to buy these books for you.” Your eyes are wide as you slowly feel yourself moving the stack of books away from your chest. “So long as we get to have that reading date, I’m happy to buy them for you.”

You would deny his offer, but you hate to admit that the idea of having someone you like buy the books you’ve been wanting to read has your heart warming. Buying you books, reading your recommendations, and annotating a book just for you—they’re the easiest ways to your heart, and he figured them out.

With that, you find yourself handing the two books to him. He smiles as he glances at the three books in his hands. And before you know it, he quickly links his arm with you as he drags you to the cashier. You don’t know how you got lucky to know a guy like him. 

CHAPTER SIX: SO TIRED BLUES

Usually, the hours of the night are the ones you find most comfort in. It’s the illusion of being away from the hours that demanded you to interact with others. You love spending your time alone doing whatever, whether it may be your own hobbies or the coursework you need to accomplish. This time of day had you in a state of tranquility, at most, for you were comforted with the idea that nothing can disturb you.

But for once, you weren’t calm during these hours. As you stare at your shared document that barely had any input from your groupmates, you feel your sanity slipping away. This assessment is due two days from now—what can your groupmates offer during this time crunch?

You lean your head in your hands as your eyes rest on your keyboard. As you let out a groan, you cannot help but grip your hair out of frustration. 

“What’s wrong?”

As you look at your friend who sits beside you, you cannot help but pout. “Eric, I can’t do this.”

Despite these hours being reserved for your alone time, you chose to spend these with him. The date was a success—you two were practically inseparable at this point. But you two were still going on dates without any expectation, still exploring whatever you two truly felt towards each other.

To be fair, you were still hesitant about jumping into a relationship with him. You still weren’t sure how possible it was for you to handle your studies along with being in a relationship. And you hate to admit it but you’re terrified—what if the love you read about is nothing like what you’ll experience with Eric?

So for now, you’ll only allow yourself to enjoy what you have now. It is only when the universe forces you to confront these sentiments that you’ll figure out the answer.

He crosses his arm as he leans back in the booth you two sat on. “You want to tell me about it?” And for a moment, you consider not doing such. You didn’t want to waste both yours and Eric’s time complaining about shitty and unresponsive groupmates.

But he doesn’t give you a moment to indulge any further in those worries, for he says, “We have enough time for you to talk about it.” He shows you a smile, one that is enough to bring you comfort. “Let me become someone you can lean on.”

And with that, you find yourself spilling out your frustrations. “I’ve just been so stressed, you know? My group mates are so shit, I’m not sure how good of an output we’ll be able to submit on time,” you start off. “I’ve been reminding them nonstop to do their work, and they just keep ignoring me. And it doesn’t help that my professor doesn’t give a fuck.”

Eric cannot help but let out a hiss of annoyance at your situation. “That’s terrible.”

“I know, right? And this assessment is at least 30% of my grade. How am I going to get an A in this class if my groupmates refuse to help?” You cannot help but groan as you lean back.

As you stare up at the ceiling, you tongue the inside of your cheek as you ponder over the situation you’re in. And you’re not sure what takes over you when you share your next set of thoughts. “I just–I want to achieve so many things, but it’s so hard when you’re not supported.”

Despite your eyes staring up at the ceiling, you can feel Eric’s gaze on you as you reveal a part you’ve never shared with him. So you let out a sigh before saying, “I know I talk so much about wanting to ace all my subjects and graduate with flying colors, but some days it’s hard to keep up with that type of mentality.” You let your eyes close for a moment. “It’s hard to aspire for so many things when you don’t have someone to fall back on.”

Although you have the passion to achieve the different goals you set for yourself, it becomes impossible to keep that fire going on most days. Sure, you had friends from your course and extracurriculars, but they were never ones you could find yourself going to easily. In most instances, you would be by yourself as you were scared to insert yourself into people’s circles.

With that lack of a support system, it became difficult to attain your goal. Although you try your hardest to keep your mind set on the prize, you cannot deny that you find yourself slipping into burnout in most instances.

“I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of burnout, you know? And I know most people would say to take a break or to indulge in a hobby, but,” you look at the boy beside you whose face is full of concern. “I’m exhausted from reading.”

It’s something you didn’t like to admit out loud. Eric knew you as the person who would read at any hour if they could—the one who wishes they could consume books even while asleep. So it hurts to say that you were growing tired of the hobby—the one thing that provided you escapism.

You let out a bitter chuckle as your tired eyes drifted away from him, staring off into the distance. “It gets hard to read when all you do in a course is read. It requires so much energy, and most days I just don’t have that.” As you say those words, you let out a sigh. “And even when I forced myself to read, whether it would be for my own pleasure or a requirement for school, I could never digest the passages.”

Eric hums at your reveal. And when he reaches out for your hand, it feels as if all your worries are lifted off your shoulders. “Is there any way that I can help?”

You cannot help but chuckle as your eyes rest back on him. With his worried expression, you only show him a small smile. “No,” you shake your head. “But it’s fine. I’m glad that someone listened to me.”

It’s not like you were aiming to have your problems solved by him. If anything, you realize how much weight was lifted off of you after admitting these to a friend.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m sorry I can’t do much to help you, especially with your group work.”

You can only hum as you take a deep breath. “Yeah. I just need to take over their parts and remove their names, I guess.” As you say that, Eric cannot help but nod along with a chuckle leaving his mouth.

You’re about to get back to the work you were dreading until he asks you something. “Hey, I don’t know how much this would help, but maybe I can read you some passages of where I am in The Awakening if you’d like.” Your eyes widen at his suggestion. “I’m sure you’re way ahead of me but this could be a refresher, you know? While you take a break, I can be your audiobook.”

And you cannot hold back the smile that shows on your lips. Somehow, Eric is always looking out for you, whether it be through keeping your love for literature going or making sure you are well-rested on most occasions.

With that, you find yourself leaning your head on his shoulder. As you let your eyes close, you mutter, “Yes, please.”

He chuckles at the way you seem to melt on his shoulder. And just like that, he starts to recite the words of Chopin.

As his voice fills your ears, you’re reminded of the first time you first met Eric. Something about his voice is enough to ease your worries—to bring you into a state of tranquility. And somehow, he became the late hours of the day for you—you’ve managed to find peace through his presence for all he did is support you. 

CHAPTER SEVEN: HOW DO I LOVE THEE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS

It seems like the season of fall is about to end. It’s getting colder than usual and you cannot help but wear more layers than you typically would during autumn. Although winter is about to come, however, you were seated on a picnic blanket with your back leaning against a tree trunk. And on your lap is where Eric’s head lays as he continues to read Jane Eyre.

While you were trying to read your copy of Wuthering Heights, you couldn’t help but glance at Eric every once in a while. After going on multiple dates with him throughout the semester, you weren’t sure exactly where you two were in your relationship. And you know you should take the initiative to ask, but you didn’t want to say the wrong words.

“Eric,” you call out his name as your voice quivers. He looks away from his book to stare right back at you. As he hums in curiosity, you cannot help but bite the inside of your cheek. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you sit beside me?” You notice his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “During the first meeting, I mean. Why did you choose to sit beside me when there were other vacant spots?” As you say those words, you spot how his mouth parts open in realization. However, it shifts into a smug grin.

“Cause I thought you were cute.” His reply has your eyes widening in shock. You knew Eric tends to be straightforward, but you weren’t expecting that to be his answer. You were sure that your cheeks were warm at his reasoning.

He then sits up, now face-to-face with you. “Well, that’s what I thought at first. But I got to know you more through the times we studied together, you know?” With his eyes staring intently back at yours, you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I mean, the first time I got to know you, you were talking about how you wouldn’t entertain the idea of romance, so I couldn’t help but become interested in you.” His hand reaches out for yours that rests on your lap. “And throughout our time together, I learned about all your hopes and dreams and your love for literature.”

You notice the way he takes a deep breath in as his eyes close momentarily. “I couldn’t help but like you,” he admits. As soon as he opens his eyes, he is met by yours that are wide as they stare back at him.

“I’m sure it wasn’t a secret with how we were going on dates, but I thought I should vocalize it now,” he starts off as he looks down at your interlocked hands. “I was starting to wish that these dates would give you enough of a reason to reconsider what you first thought—that maybe I could become a reason for you to reconsider after all.”

But as soon as he looks back at you, you feel your heartstrings tug as he draws circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. And the next thing he says is enough to warm your heart. “But I would never push you into a relationship with me. I know you care about your studies, and you worry too much about your grades. Sometimes, I wish I could tell you to take it easy.” He cannot help but giggle as he says those words, causing you to laugh along with him.

“But I hope you know that I’ll be here to support you, whether as a friend or as your boyfriend if you’ll have me.”

And you realize that you’ve been wrong all this time. You’ve fallen under this idea that the road to success means to get rid of all distractions—that love is nothing but a hindrance to the path you want to take. But it’s not that you can only have one or the other—you could choose to have both if you made the effort to do so.

In your time knowing Eric Sohn, you learned the joys of love even if you weren’t signing up for such joys came in the form of him. To you, he is what the poets describe as love embodied. From the first time you two worked together all the way to midterm season until your breakdown, you realize that he is the support you were seeking out all this time. And so you wonder to yourself how lucky you can be to receive something you weren’t seeking but still desperately craved.

So you let yourself lean forward, your face inching closer to his. His breath hitches at your action. As your eyes flicker down to his lips for a second, you cannot help but hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your eyes meet his, and you notice the way he holds his breath. So you cannot help but let yourself smile for a moment.

And before he knows it, your lips crash into his. Your hand reaches out to the side of his face while your arm wraps around the back of his neck, holding him close. His hand holds onto your waist, drawing shapes on it with his thumb.

As your noses bump against each other, Eric cannot help but giggle in the middle of the kiss. You two part away as you continue to look at each other. “So, will you let me be yours?” And his question is enough to pull on your heartstrings.

It’s the phrasing that gets to you—his choice of words to let him be yours versus you being his is what has you realizing just how much he likes you. It’s this whole idea that you didn’t have to surrender anything to him for he is willing to build around you.

But the reality is you would do the same for him—you’re willing to make space for him to take up in your life the same way he already has done for you.

And so you say, “You can be mine if you let me be yours.”

The boyish grin you first found yourself falling in love with appears on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You wish you could tell your past self that nothing goes according to plan. What you may have first thought is not what may push through in the end. While you were never signing up to find love in your years in university, the universe decided to give you a reason to reconsider. And now you know that you can have both—that you can achieve your aspirations while still being in love. All it took was time, effort, support, and a boy named Eric Sohn to have you believe that.

if you enjoyed reading this, consider reblogging and leaving some feedback!

[prince-liest]

I got a government grant from a clean air project for turning in my '97 Corolla for a very hefty chunk of money off of a new (or new-ish) hybrid vehicle from an approved dealership, finally went to purchase my new car today with my dad, and ended up getting a 2025 Toyota Camry SE.

Sorry, Alastor, I think I'm with Vox on the front of technological advancement, ahaha. It's almost a 30 year jump in car technologies and I damn well feel like I've upgraded into the new century (or, well - millennium, technically)! This car does so many things and they all manage to feel like they are actually convenient rather than useless technology bloat. I think this is technically what Nietzsche meant when he said that to live is to suffer, LOL. Can't appreciate the good stuff if you haven't experienced the alternative! Also, y'know. My breaks lost pressure on me in the middle of a winding mountain road with no cell service last month, so. That was the sign to move on.

It's so wild to go from a car that's got a plain metal key, a phone charger operated through the cigarette lighter that only succeeds in making my phone lose charge more slowly, an AC system that would vibrate the whole dashboard alarmingly if it had to work too hard, and music that I played through a casette tape with bluetooth connectivity...to a car where I get in, put my phone down on the wireless charging pad, and watch the touchscreen automatically turn on with my Spotify and Google maps. Never again am I going to accidentally leave my headlights on and drain my car battery, LOL. Thanks, battery-attached jumper cables, you served me well. The car is so damn quiet and smooth, too.

Also, it's a very pretty car! I got it in white. Sorry, "windchill pearl."

Anyway, I'm just experiencing a delightful bit of awe and joy. Happy graduation and early birthday to me! <3

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 11

The Second Doctor traveled with Jamie again after his departure while working for the Time Lords. The reason he doesn't remember this is because the Time Lords regularly erased his memory.

The Ice Warriors were originally created as a slave race to serve the Gandorans.

Strax carries dehydrated water in his first aid kit.

Homunculette and Marie are a Time Lord/TARDIS duo who consider each other "companions" and have incredibly intense feelings about one another.

The sexual attraction to humans by non-humans is called humanophilia.

On four separate known occasions, the Doctor has been to the Frost Fair. He took Vicki and Steven, River, Clara, and Bill.

When Missy broke into the Black Archive, she "liberated" a good portion of their inventory, including her "good friend" TOMTIT.

Turlough's great-great-great-great grandfather was part of Trion's royal court.

James Lethbridge-Stewart was the Brigadier's older brother. At a young age, he was forced by the Great Intelligence in an act of revenge against the Brigadier's future self to jump to his death over Golitha Falls. The young Brigadier was too short to retrieve his body. Their memories of James were later removed by the Great Intelligence.

After the year 12,000,000, some humans evolved into Homo solarians and lived inside the sun.

Oswin "Winnie" Clarence, a splinter of Clara Oswald, was a research graduate at Snowcap University in Antarctica. She saved the Twelfth Doctor and Clara Oswald.

There have been many other splinters of Clara. A Constable Oswald filed a missing person's report on Susan Foreman in the 60s. Another was a member of the Happiness Patrol. Another was a Morestran. Etc, etc....

During an adventure with the Seventh Doctor, Chris Cwej had sex with a man named David Daniels. In doing so, he accidentally gave him a metagenic compound from the 30th century that acted as an HIV anti-virus. Harry Sullivan would later discover this compound in 2015 as a potential cure.

The Dragonhunters have a saying that "no Time Lord could be trusted."

The Doctor considered his cousin Arkhew to be inoffensive, gentle, and an unassuming. He said that such traits were "unusual for this family."

Arkhew had a pet scrubber, but his pet was eaten by another cousin named Owis. This made Arkhew hate Owis. Owis later killed Arkhew.

The Kithriarch is another important figure to a Great House. Unlike the Housekeeper, who is a medium between the sentient House and the family and responsible for the House's wellbeing, the Kithriarch is responsible for the social wellbeing of all family members.

The First, Sixth, Eleventh, and Thirteenth Doctors all meddled in the Gunpowder Plot.

Magnus Greel told the Fourth Doctor that he had encountered a Time Agent in the 51st century. Unbeknownst to the Fourth, Greel was referring to the Fifth Doctor, who had posed as a Time Agent.

The Doctor studied under Hippocrates.

The Chancellery Guard is issued a Gallifreyan Army knife. The Doctor had one, but it is marked as property of Castellan Spandrell. He eventually returned it to Spandrell.

The Eighth Doctor once ran into the Seventh Doctor and Ace at the Festival of Britain in 1951 but did not recognize them because he had amnesia at the time.

The Fourth Doctor once became a taxi driver in order to learn about history first-hand.

Raine Creevey was a companion of the Seventh Doctor, who actually assisted in her birth by midwife-ing her mother.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

[earthtooz]

𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗚𝗜𝗙𝗧 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥

in which: oikawa surprises you with the best christmas present you could ask for.

warnings: 2.1k words, fluff !!!, reader is called 'beautiful', gn!reader, established relationship, lmk if there are other warnings!

a/n: i had a lot of fun writing this one <3 by far the cutest i've written :(

˗ˏˋ XMAS MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

When Iwaizumi invited you to a Christmas party with fellow Aoba Johsai graduates, you thought nothing of it. It was going to be on two nights before Christmas, just a small thing amongst your closest friends and an invite that you accepted pretty readily. 

It would be a good distraction from missing Oikawa too much considering how four days after would mark six years of dating since third year. Although you wish he could be in Japan to celebrate the holidays with you as he’s done every year since leaving, he seems to be busier this time around because he’s got a match to play on Christmas to celebrate some sort of ‘tradition’. At least he’s given you the livestream link to watch, promising to wink at the camera with each service ace he gets.

“Hi, pretty,” Oikawa’s voice rings out from your phone which was currently propped up against the wall of your kitchen. You’re scrambling around, trying to find the appropriate ingredients needed to make dinner.

“Hey, handsome,” you reply, not paying much attention to your phone screen that your boyfriend was currently dominating in all of his drowsy glory, having just woken up from a good night’s rest.

“What are you doing?”

“Making dinner.”

“Without me?” You can hear the pout in his voice as he peers at you with his tired eyes that were still slightly swollen.

Brushing aside the obvious that he was in another country, you place your chopping board in front of your phone so he can hear your response clearly. “Yes because you should be asleep instead of waking up to call me at 6:50am.”

That earns you a whine. “But I love spending time with you! I can’t do that whilst asleep.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you don’t dream of me,” you set out to cutting up some carrots, decidedly making a curry for tonight’s dinner.

“I do! But when I’m not dreaming of you I wake up so I can spend some time with actual you,” Oikawa points out, his confession making your insides gush with adoration and warmth. You wish he was here so you could actually kiss him for it. “Don’t you dream of me too?”

“All the time. Even when I’m not asleep, you’re always on my mind, Tooru.”

His lips become wobbly and a sudden shine glosses over his eyes, was he about to cry from that small of a comment? A sniffle that he let escape answers the question for you. “You’re so perfect, I love you so much,” he mumbles, slightly muffled when he wipes his eyes. There’s urgency in his next demand, instructing you to ‘tell me you love me too.’

“I love you too, Tooru,” you reassure. “I really hate that you’re not coming home these holidays.”

“I know, love, I hate it too, I even tried crying in front of my manager but she wouldn’t budge!”

“Good. Someone has to keep you in check when I’m not there. Send her my best wishes.”

“Not you too! Even the love of my life is cruel to me.”

“Only when you deserve it.”

He humphs, watching you work in silence. No matter how much you berate him for waking early, you will always appreciate his company, even if it’s over a phone screen that leaves you constantly yearning for a physical version of him, but at least the emptiness can be mended with video calls, messages that update you about his day, and selfies to match.

Although the feeling of an empty bed, unused mugs, and untouched books that weren’t yours will always haunt you, no matter how hard Oikawa can try to mend it, it just isn’t the same without your other half by your side. You could be selfish- well, you already are, it’s just that you’re not inclined to act on your selfishness because watching him soar and flourish in Argentina was a real blessing. If he’s happy, then you are too.

“You’re not mad that I’m not coming back, are you?” He asked, voice suddenly a lot softer and timid.

Pouring some water into a pot, you huff with contempt. “I’m not, I promise, it’s just- I really miss you. It’s been a while since your last visit to Japan as well and it feels a little empty in our apartment without you. My life feels a little empty, too.”

“You’re gonna make me actually cry, I hate it when you’re sad,” he mutters, hugging his pillow tighter to his chest as his frown deepens. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault at all, Tooru. I don’t want you apologising for things like this because I’ll support you no matter what, you know that.”

“I’m apologising because you’re too good for me. You could’ve left me whenever you wanted to find a ‘better’ man- if he exists, but he doesn’t because I’m already the best! Yet you’ve decided to stay with me only for me to put you through all this.”

You scoff. “You also could’ve left me to find a ‘better’ partner-” 

“-no such thing,” he says with a wink, but the mischief doesn’t really reach his eyes.

“Yet you’ve decided to stay with me as well, Tooru. You put so much into our relationship that I don’t have anything to complain about, which is good because otherwise Iwaizumi would throttle you on my behalf.”

“Of course I’m gonna stay with you, you’re the one for me. I figured that out before I even left for Argentina.”

“You’re the one for me too, Tooru,” you confess timidly, making a ‘heart’ shape for him with your hands. Although this is far from your first time being vulnerable with one another, it’s always going to be a little cringey expressing your feelings for one another, no matter how comfortable Oikawa may get with you.

The conversation dwindles a little as you transfer your phone near the stovetop, waiting for the vegetables to boil whilst preparing the curry roux you purchased earlier. Under the kitchen lights with the sound of appliances in the background, you’re content to just exist with your lover through the familiarity of your device. 

As the vegetables soften and the rice cooker is operating the background, Tooru has gotten up and done his morning routine- shirtless because he was generous enough to keep you in mind, before showing you the beautiful landscape of Argentina from his apartment. It’s outside on his balcony that you continue the conversation.

“Iwaizumi actually invited me to a Christmas party with our Seijoh friends,” you tell him once you leave the pot to boil.

His eyes widen a little in curiosity, leaning closer to the phone in interest. “Are you going?” 

“Yeah, I am. I thought it might be fun.” Tapping your fingers on the kitchen bench, you raise your phone closer to your face so you can see his pretty face clearer. “I’m excited to catch up with the friends I haven’t seen in a while which is easier because I won’t have your annoying ass around me all the time.”

Putting his hand over his chest and clenching it, he acts as though he’s been fatally wounded and you can’t help but roll your eyes at how dramatic he is.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” you relent.

Oh what a miracle, Oikawa has been healed. “Can I help you find an outfit?” He asks, a sheepish smile on his face. When you nod in agreement, he continues. “You should wear that one outfit you love that I got for you. You haven’t worn it at all and I think you’d look really nice in it,” he mutters with a small pout, putting his chin on his hand.

“You’re not even gonna be there to see it!” 

He raises his hands in defence. “You can always send photos! It’ll be like I’m with you through the dress because I bought it and so technically, that’s me showing off how beautiful my partner is.”

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand, denying his compliment with a shy expression. Your humbleness pisses Oikawa off.

“Don’t be like that. You know how pretty you are,” he reaffirms. “I hate that I’m not there in person to remind you.”

You soften a little, trying not to let sadness plague your expression again. You truly are miserable without Oikawa, feeling incomplete unless he’s here with you but that’s how you know you’re soulmates, you suppose. Such a painful way of realising something so beautiful. 

The call ends twenty or so minutes later because he needed to go on his morning run, but this routine is performed daily. He calls, asks you about your day, you tell him then ask him about how he is, and what he has to do later. It’s a nice routine and one you’ve been sticking to very frequently, a balm to the burn of longing.

But when you’re preparing for the Seijoh Christmas party, you’re about to call Oikawa to show him how you look, only for him to not answer your call which was very unusual. Maybe he was still asleep? He did mention how training was draining him and that it hurt to walk so you chalk it to that explanation and let him rest for a little longer. He deserves it for how much he gives towards being a volleyball player.

Leaving the house at exactly 7:30, the address to the place you were told is only twenty-five minutes away. Although you find it weird that even though it’s a friend-organised party, the venue was a professional and proper hall for celebrations. Looking on the website, there were even full-length windows acting as walls that gazed at the scenery outside but you brushed it off, thinking nothing of it before going on with your day.

But now that you’ve arrived, managing to find a spot in the relatively filled parking lot, you can feel your gut brewing in scepticism and uncertainty. Were you at the right place? Surely, the fairy lights are on and beautiful, there’s cars so there must be people, but why was there no music? No Mariah Carey to tell you that you were in the right place?

Then, the familiar face of Iwaizumi stepping outside calms the turbulence of anxiety you previously drowned under. He waves at you with an excited grin, helping you up the small stairs with a gentle hand.

“You look nice,” he compliments upon exchanging greetings. You smile gratefully at him, thanking him for his company and for his compliment. 

“Thank you, Oikawa actually picked this out for me, it suits me quite well!” You gushed. “You look nice tonight as well, Iwa.”

“Thank you. Should we go inside? A few people are already here.”

Nodding, the dark-haired quickly leads the way, ushering you inside through the halls which were much nicer than you expected. The reception is beautiful, there is so much art decorating the walls but it gave a refined and sophisticated vibe, and the gentle lighting only pulled it all together. 

Whoever is hosting this party must have gotten a raise. No, maybe a promotion instead.

As your shoes clink against the marble floor, Iwaizumi opens the door for you and you thank him with a grateful nod before abruptly stopping.

The room is enchanting. The decor is beyond comprehension, the lighting is subtle but glamorous, and the windows indeed gave a beautiful view of snow coated trees, gently lit up by fairy lights.

But, the most marvellous sight of all was Oikawa Tooru himself, looking as dashing as ever whilst standing in the midst of an empty room.

Your feet take you to him without thinking and you don’t have time to think before you’re embracing him in a bone crushing hug, a gesture he returns with just as much fervour and passion as he places a lingering kiss on your temple. Melting into each other’s embrace, there’s a shared feeling of relief, warmth, and content as you breathe him in.

“My love,” you whisper into the crisp fabric of his button-down. You’re too overwhelmed with happiness to be confused on the logistics of how and why he was in Japan. “You’re here.”

“I am,” he responds, separating from you to cup your cheeks, looking at you with so much love and adoration, eyes going down to admire the outfit you’re wearing. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, my beautiful, beautiful Y/N.” 

You hide away from him slightly, shying away at his boldness.

“I’m finally home. But, there’s something I need to do first.” Oikawa then sinks to the floor on one knee, pulling out a velvet box with a stunning ring as he looks up at you with doe eyes that brim with hope.

[justcallmehappy]

I have to say, I love what you wrote for Qiu. It tugs on my heart so much.

I was wondering if you could wrote some hurt/comfort for Cove. Or maybe just angst, whatever you're in the mood for really.

-Ghost

thank you and of course, Ghost!! i hope you enjoy and i'm so sorry it took so long <3

"Time Apart"

(Step 3) Cove x gn!reader synopsis: On a particularly windy day, you can't help but feel that your longtime best friend and boyfriend, Cove Holden, is a bit off. Ever since graduation, things have been weird between you two. What's wrong with him?

warnings: established relationship, unedited

word count: 1.7k a/n: finals are finally over (see what i did there), so i can get back to writing! yay!!!

Your eyes sting as the wind relentlessly pelts your face. It takes your whole being just not to cry out in annoyance.

You're just trying to get to your car after a day of hanging out with Terri and Miranda. Cove couldn't hang out with the three of you because he had work all day, but that was okay.

It's been a week since your graduation, and your last day of high school was just two days ago.

Of course, you weren't expecting Cove to be a happy ball of sunshine, as he's always been extremely sentimental, but you can't help feeling like he's been distant the past few days.

As you finally make it to your car, you let out a soft sigh as you slip into the driver's seat and turn up the AC.

"Terri said I shouldn't worry so much, but..."

You mutter, fishing for the keys in your pocket.

You can't help the sigh that slips past your lips as you turn your car on and drive out of Terri's driveway.

Your drive home is as uneventful as always, speeding past the familiar scenery of the beach that you and of course, Cove, have always adored.

You can't help the small smile from growing on your face at how beautifully it worked out that a boy named after the sea fell in love with it.

Did Cliff and Kyra know it would happen?

You blink when your phone starts going off, and you can't help from glancing at it briefly to check the caller.

Your Mom's familiar contact shows up on your screen, sporting that picture you took of her when she dressed up to match your Halloween costume.

Propping it up on your dashboard, you accept the call and set it to speaker.

"Hey Mom, what's up?"

"Hey, not-so-kiddo. Me and your mom were talking about scheduling for touring your colleges this summer. Can you remind me when you want to be back?"

And so, for the rest of your drive home, you end up talking to your moms about college and your plans for touring various colleges and universities.

When you pull into your driveway and get out of your car, you all but stumble into the house. You love Terri and Miranda, but it's always taken a toll hanging out with them the whole day.

You remember your moms mentioning that Liz had gone out to eat dinner with some old friends of hers and Mom left to go pick up some things from the supermarket shortly after you finished the call, so it was just you and Ma.

Ma greets you with a hug when you make it inside before letting you stumble into your room.

Cove is planning to leave to visit Kyra tomorrow, so you're hoping he'd come by to visit before driving down to her. He has to leave early in the morning.

You collapse onto your bed, the familiar comforter hugging your body as you bury your face into your favorite pillow, letting out a satisfied sigh.

The constant hum of the fan on your desk only relaxes your body more, making you practically melt into the bed.

Eventually, the fan lulls you to sleep, and you slip into a dreamless slumber.

...ap tap!

A sleepy frown makes its way onto your face at the rather annoying sound. You groan and bury your face deeper into your pillow.

...

You let out a content hum.

...Tap tap tap!

You let out a harsh sigh and reluctantly open your eyes, sitting up. You groggily rub your eyes, looking towards the window.

There, perched on the windowsill, is a familiar head of green hair and a boy with an awkward smile.

Cove Holden.

You stare blankly at him for a few moments, your mind still waking up.

As soon as you notice Cove's hair constantly getting into his face from the harsh wind outside, you shuffle to the window and wordlessly let him into your bedroom.

As soon as he makes his way into your room, he almost urgently wraps you in his arms, and you can practically feel him shaking.

"Cove...?"

If there was anything that woke you up more than being dunked in ice cold water, it would be your boyfriend upset.

The man in question says nothing in response to you, and if anything his grip only tightens.

Slowly, you start to rub comforting circles in his back, gently holding him as well.

You two just stand there, the moonlight illuminating you two in your room at who knows when.

Eventually, you can hear a soft sigh and he unwraps his arms around you, instead resting his hands on your shoulders.

You stare up at him, concerned, but let him take the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

However, when Cove opens your mouth, you can't help but frown in confusion at his words.

"You... you didn't answer my calls."

You stare at him, gauging his reaction to see if he was being serious. Confusingly, he was.

Cove has never been the type to get all scared just because you missed a few calls of his, so there was definitely something making his blue irises to practically shake in anxiety.

You glance over to your phone which was carelessly thrown on your bedside table. Removing his hands from your shoulders, you go over to check if you really missed his calls.

Just like he said, there were about 6 missed calls under the name "Cove 💙."

"I... I guess I did. I'm sorry, Cove, I just fell asleep." You glance up at him apologetically. He nods briefly.

"Yeah, that's what I guessed."

You stare down at your phone again, only to see that your phone says it's 1:16am. You blink, surprised that you slept for so long because you fell asleep at probably around 5pm.

"Uh... Cove?"

You glance at him, only to see he's moving to sit down next to you on your bed.

"Yes?"

"Why did you come here at 1am if you called at, like, 7?"

Cue his cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

Cove looks away, fidgeting with his pants. You frown in concern, gently reaching over to rest your hand on his leg.

"Cove?"

After a few tense moments of silence, he lets out a soft sigh.

"I just... wanted to say bye before I go visit Mom."

You stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

However, when he says nothing else, your face morphs into another confused and concerned frown for what feels like the 100th time in just 10 minutes.

"Cove, I always get up to see you off."

He nods.

"...So you didn't need to come here in the middle of the night."

He nods again, causing your frown to deepen.

"...Cove, what's the real reason you came?"

Then, to your surprise, he lets out a frustrated groan and buries his head in his hands.

Your eyes widen and you gently rest your hand on his hunched over back.

He sighs and shakes his head.

"...It's not your fault, I just..."

He lets out another tired sigh, but you guess it isn't because of the time.

"...What if we don't see each other this summer?"

...Oh.

Oh.

You slump over as well, matching Cove almost perfectly.

However, you turn so you face Cove. Gently, you prod his hand hiding his face from you.

"...Cove, look at me." You murmur softly.

At first, you think he didn't hear you, but after a few moments his hands move and he shifts slightly so his bright blue eyes are looking into yours.

"What makes you think that?"

Even though you can't see his mouth, you can imagine his lips pursing at your question.

"I just... I'll be gone for a while."

"It's no longer than every other year."

Cove sighs again.

"But... but what if when I'm here, you're not? What if- what if you're touring colleges when I'm finally back?"

You immediately soften, eyes growing wide in surprise and sadness.

Slowly, you sit up and pull him into a gentle embrace. Though, it's more one sided, as he just lifelessly leans against you as you rub his arm.

"Cove, we're going to see each other this summer, okay?"

He sniffles.

"Oh, Cove," You coo softly, moving one hand up to his hair to run your fingers through it. He's always found comfort in your touch, but he especially likes it when you play with his hair. It's like magic, he instantly relaxes whenever you do it. So, of course, the same happens now. "Me and my moms are going off in two days. We'll be back a few days before you, don't worry."

You can feel him hide his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the small tears wet your shirt.

You let out a soft breath and gently smile, stroking his hair comfortingly. You stay quiet, letting Cove calm himself down.

Eventually, he pulls back. You can feel the wet spot on your shirt but you don't mind, gently smiling at your boyfriend who's still teary-eyed.

"Really?"

You nod, laughing softly. Gently taking his hand and squeezing it, you offer him a small smile. "I made sure to tour colleges out of state when you weren't here so we could spend as much time together as possible."

You've gotten the feeling for a while that Cove was worried you two wouldn't be able to spend as much time together this summer as the past ten years, but this was the first time he outright told you his worries.

Cove has always been extremely considerate, so you assume he didn't want to upset you by asking this.

When he lets out a sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing, you can tell just how tired he is.

"...Cove, do you want to spend the night here?"

His eyes find yours, and his cheeks warming.

"Would that be okay?"

You let out a soft laugh, squeezing his hand. "Cove, you've spent the night here so many times you shouldn't even ask that."

At your words, he lets out an embarrassed laugh. "...Okay. Yeah, I'd like that."

You nod, smiling adoringly at your green-haired boyfriend.

And so, because both of you were too bashful to share a bed, you end up laying in your bed with Cove laying on the floor.

"...Goodnight, Cove." You murmur softly, the hum of the fan still going strong.

"See you tomorrow, (Name)."

[flyingwargle]

no matter how many years have passed, suga will never tire of entering the sendai city gymnasium.

he still remembers the first time he stood beneath the lights, on the court with his teammates, faced against their opponents. he was overcome with nerves in that match, which affected his tosses and made them lose the first set. although they managed to turn it around and win, that match was a wake-up call that yes, he is the team’s setter, he is the conductor of their offense, and whether they win or lose depends on how effectively he utilizes his hitters.

it was a burden that he was happy to carry, as he did not stand alone on the court. even when he was relegated to the sidelines in his third year, he still held that burden as vice-captain, as a mentor for his underclassmen, as a role model for his teammates to follow.

even though he left the court for good after graduation, he still carries that responsibility, honored to do so for the rest of his life, because he knows that his underclassmen are destined for greatness in a way that he never will be.

the first day of the inter-high preliminaries falls on his birthday. last year, it coincided with the third day, where he watched his underclassmen lose to datekou after a long and hard match. his tears were not out of pity but pride, proud of how tanaka filled asahi’s role as the ace, how ennoshita became the new defense specialist after daichi, how kinoshita improved significantly as a pinch server. the dinner afterwards was not mired with frustration but determination, as the team promised him to bring home victory at the spring tournament as a belated birthday present.

this year, he enters the stands with daichi and tanaka. asahi has a major project due after the weekend, ennoshita is knees-deep in research for his kinesiology paper, and neither kinoshita nor narita could get away, either. and last suga heard of noya, he’d taken off to his first adventure in mexico.

tanaka greets his underclassmen that comprise of karasuno’s cheering squad. he introduces them to daichi and suga, their juniors bowing in respect. suga gives a wave and turns to the glance down at the court, where the referees are talking on the sidelines, few members of the press snapping photos on the side. team banners are tied along the railings, their teams huddled on the stands as they wait for their match to begin.

“who’s the new captain?” daichi asks after tanaka joins them. “yamaguchi, right?”

“i wouldn’t be surprised if he made tsukishima vice-captain,” suga adds.

“nah, it’s actually kageyama,” tanaka says. “yamaguchi texts me sometimes for advice, and whenever i about kageyama, he says that he helps with strategies and formations.”

“that’s more than my vice-captain did,” daichi drawls, shooting a look at suga. “i remember entrusting the team to a certain second-year more than my vice.”

suga huffs with a roll of his eyes. “it’s my birthday, you know. let’s save the slander for another day.” he is about to say more when the gym doors open and the first competing teams step onto the court upon a shower of applause. they’re quick to join in, breaking off to point when karasuno enters. “there they are!”

“tsukishima looks even taller,” daichi remarks. “yamaguchi looks more muscular, too.”

“hinata’s still the shortest!” suga laughs. “even though he grew so much!”

tanaka cackles. “he still looks like a first-year compared to everyone else.” were it not for his aura of a veteran emanating around him, he could still be easily mistaken as a rookie at his first official high school match.

suga watches them take their team jackets off and step onto the court to warm up, his eyes roaming their backs. yamaguchi wears the #1 jersey proudly, tall and strong. tsukishima took #3, off to the side to talk with an underclassman. hinata wears #5, standing at the end line as he waits for his turn. when the net is clear, he makes his approach, pulls his arms behind him, and jumps.

kageyama, clad in the #2 jersey, tosses the ball with lightning speed, and hinata spikes it in the blink of an eye. behind him, the cheering squad shouts, “nice kill!” and “nice toss!” daichi whistles. “their quick is as fast as ever, right, suga?”

he doesn’t reply, transfixed on kageyama. as a third-year, he exudes a much more refined aura, someone more confident in himself, his tosses, his teammates. everything about him promises that he’ll get the ball to where it needs to go, that he’ll bring his team to victory. it’s confidence that suga wishes he had in the past, in himself and his skills.

it’s not just that. kageyama leaves the net as the next team warms up, and although hinata flanks him, their juniors talk to them, anxious and nervous. he watches him comfort the one wearing the #9 jersey, and although he can’t hear what he says, it has to be reassuring. or, maybe not, because hinata’s laugh reaches him from the stands, along with, “kageyama, you never know what to say!”

soon, the teams line up to greet each other. kageyama stands beside yamaguchi, followed by tsukishima, their libero, and then hinata. suga still remembers when they first joined the team, their round faces and eyes bright with possibility, their animosity and rivalry, their teamwork and synergy. to think that he taught hinata how to receive, watching him slide across the court flawlessly after a pass. to think that he taught kageyama about teamwork, watching him high-five his hitter after he scores. to think that all his underclassmen were weak and inexperienced, to standing tall in their team jerseys.

he might not get a car for his birthday, or world peace, or anything extravagant, but to see how far his juniors have come is the best present he could ever ask for.

[allastoredeer]

I just read your entire Just Kiss Already series up to the latest one with the huge fight between the two and ARGH you write them both so well!! Especially Lucifer, his anxiety and stumbling-through-his-words dialogue that makes him oh so relatable to me are perfect. And as an English Language and Literature graduate who's not a native English speaker, your writing has some GREAT vocabulary and phrases I absolutely love.

As someone aroaceage myself (on all 3 spectrums not 100% completely aromantic, asexual, or agender, just FYI since people forget it's a spectrum and then attack me way too often and now I'm wary) it's so refreshing to see another aroace person writing Alastor with his "I hate personal space invasion" attitude that I share. I strictly hate giving up my privacy and your explanation for how Al feels makes so much sense (and also makes me feel like I won't be friendless my whole life, so thanks :') if Alastor can end up with someone despite hating intimacy and if Lucifer can despite being awkward and desperate then damn. Maybe so can I). Oh, and Vox being the pathetic desperate wet tissue he is is soo entertaining. I don't babygirl-ise characters often but he's just so. Fun to watch embarass himself. I can't help it.

I came to your blog just to say this but got a lot of RadioApple discourse that I'm honestly a bit intimidated by since I wasn't aware of all this happening at all, I just follow a very select few creators and now I don't know whether I'm doing something wrong. Personally I don't care much about top/bottom dynamics (except in certain situations) so I'm just confused and worried lol. And what's with the outfits and likes??? I'm out of the entire loop. But I'm glad conversations are happening when they should!

Anyway, I canNOT wait for more from your series, wherever it goes. I'd draw fanart or write fics in your AU with your permission but I'm currently having every creative block known to humanity for several years. Somehow.

I usually comment on AO3 itself but you connected your Tumblr after every chapter so it felt right to come here, even tho I'm not too active on social media sites. I hope you don't mind my mostly-unrelated rambles. All the kudos to your fics!

First and foremost: You aren't doing anything wrong.

It's fine if you're out of the loop. There's really no loop to begin with. It's just some fandom tropes and characterizations a handful of us don't enjoy seeing and we're ranting about it LOL If you like any of those tropes or characterizations, or follow people who make art/fics with them, there's nothing wrong with that either. There's no need to be worried, you're doing just fine 😊

Secondly, THANK YOU!!!

I don't think anyone is 100% ace, aro, or agender, it's a spectrum, afterall. There's no meter you have to reach to be considered 100% a sexuality, you just are :) If you say you're ace, aro, or agender, that's what you are, and anyone who wants to argue about it can go kick rocks.

I base a lot of how I write Alastor's aceness on myself, so hearing people say they feel the same is just (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) It's so amazing to hear. I'm a very private person and I like my personal space; I'm not a very physically touchy person, and thankfully, I have an amazing friend (who's love language is physical touch and affection) who knows and understands this and doesn't touch or hug me without permission - I love her so much T.T

Vox is such a pathetic wet tissue and that's what I love about him

(づ￣ ³￣)づ I wanna give him a little kiss on his big, flat forehead.

I'm so happy you're enjoying my fics and relating to them so much. I don't think there's a higher compliment an author can get than their readers saying that they saw themselves in the story and characters. It's such an amazing feeling, it makes me all warm and tingly inside.

Once your creative block lets up - whenever that may be - you have my full permission to draw and write as much as you want in my AU.

Thanks for visiting my tumblr!! Sorry you felt intimidated by the discourse, that's not fun. Just know that you're not doing anything wrong, and whatever fandom content you engage with is perfectly fine and you shouldn't feel bad about enjoying it ^.^ Fandom is escapism and we're all here to have a good time.

Thank you for your rambles!! I enjoyed reading them!!

[thecreaturecodex]

Ranna

"Slaadi" © Wizards of the Coast, by Sam Wood

[New Year, New Monsters! I am feeling much less burnt out than I was for the back half of 2023, and have built up a small backlog of new writing. I'm going to keep monsters I post to 2/week for now, to give myself time to go through said backlog in case the burnout rears up again when I'm back to work.

So for my first trick, is a monster NPC I actually wrote back in like September, but didn't post. Consider her an epilogue to the whole "Monster Girl Summer" thing. Ranna is @strawberry-crocodile's character, and fits with some of my other monstrous NPCs. She's Doctor Shiny's main minion, and their relationship serves as sort of a nasty counterpart to Gigi and Priscilla's. Of course, if you just want to use the stat block as a particularly burly slaad enforcer type, that works just as well as Ranna's baroque and macabre backstory.]

Ranna CR 18 CE Aberration This blue, frog-like humanoid has a triangular fanged snout, warty skin and enormous claws growing from the backs of their hands. A red gemstone is embedded in their skull, right between the eyes.

Marina Rhynne was an alchemy student at Endirion School in Absalom, prone to anxiety and to thinking with her stomach. She caught the eye of Doctor Agatha Shiny, who used the pretext of a dinner invitation and offer of a graduate program to abduct her and implant her with an alchemically treated red slaad egg. Doctor Shiny succeeded in one of her goals, which was to cause memories to be passed from the host to the parasite, but failed in that the resultant blue slaad did not maintain the intelligence of her progenitor. The resultant slaad, named Ranna, could recall her previous life in a hazy, dream-like way, but the predominant personality trait that was carried over was hunger.

Ranna is now Doctor Shiny’s Number One Minion, her assassin, procurer and lover. If Doctor Shiny needs someone eliminated or an unusual creature captured and brought to her, Ranna is the one to do it. She usually tracks her targets as an unassuming humanoid until she can set up an ambush and remove her greater hat of disguise. Ranna fights with her natural weapons almost exclusively, although she does occasionally toy with targets by battering them with heavy objects hurled by telekinesis. Although she is lapdog-loyal to Doctor Shiny and always follows her instructions for her specified victims, Ranna enjoys collateral damage, which usually involves biting bystanders. She views any red slaadi that are created through chaos phagethe way a proud parent views their children, and is happy to hear of any death and destruction they create.

Ranna’s personality is playful in a cruel way. She sees her progenitor, Marina Rhinne, as a pathetic figure, and has an air of contempt towards academic pursuits in general. She still appears as Rhynne when abroad in Absalom, and is the terror of Endirion School’s faculty, staff and students as Doctor Shiny’s personal assistant. Ranna is happy to play the bad guy so that Doctor Shiny can maintain her impeccable public reputation, and takes matters into her own claws if anyone gets too close to the truth about Doctor Shiny’s goals and activities. Ranna tends to dispose of the evidence of her murders by eating the corpses of her victims. She is also an excellent chef. Doctor Shiny does not eat food that Ranna prepares unless she is very sure of where the meat came from.

Ranna  CR 18 XP 153,600 Blue slaad slayer 9 (cutthroat) CE Large aberration (chaotic, slaadi) Init +8; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +19

Defense AC 33, touch 20, flat-footed 24 (-1 size, +8 Dex, +1 dodge, +9 natural, +4 armor, +2 deflection) hp 303 (11d8+9d10+200); fast healing 6 Fort +22, Ref +20, Will +15 Immune mind reading, sonic; Resist acid 10, cold 10, electricity 10, fire 10; SR 19

Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee +3 bite +32 (2d6+16 plus disease), 2 +3 claws +32 (2d6+16/19-20x3) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks augmented critical, opportune target, rend (2 claws, 2d6+22), sneak attack +3d6, stab and grab, studied target (swift or move action, +2) Spell-like Abilities CL 8th, concentration +11 3/day—hold person (DC 15), passwall, telekinesis (DC 18) 1/day—chaos hammer (DC 17)

Statistics Str 36, Dex 26, Con 30, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 16 Base Atk +17; CMB +31 (+33 bull rush); CMD 52 Feats Alertness,Awesome Blow, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Critical (claw), Improved Natural Attack (bite), Intimidating Prowess, Killing Flourish, Power Attack Skills Acrobatics +20 (+24 in urban environments), Bluff +16, Climb +20, Disable Device +25, Disguise +16, Intimidate +34, Linguistics +4, Perception +19 (+23 vs. traps), Profession (chef) +14, Sense Motive +19, Stealth +21, Survival +15 Languages Common, Slaadi SQ legendary, slayer talents (surprise attack, trapfinding [trap sense +3], stalker, street stalker (Acrobatics) Gear manual of gainful exercise +4 (expended), manual of quickness of action +2 (expended), manual of bodily health +4 (expended), belt of physical perfection +4, bloodstained gloves, greater hat of disguise, soulbound eye, amulet of mighty fists +3, bracers of armor +4, boots of teleportation, cloak of resistance +3, ring of mind shielding, ring of protection +2, potion of fly (x2), potion of displacement, potion of haste, potion of lesser restoration (x2), potion of cure light wounds (x4), masterwork cooking tools, 150 gp

Special Abilities Augmented Critical (Ex) A blue slaad’s claws deal x3 damage on a successful critical hit. Disease (Su) Chaos phage; bite—injury; save Fort DC 25; onset 1 minute; frequency 1/day; effect 1d6 Con damage and 1d6 Cha damage; cure 2 consecutive saves. A creature that is reduced to 0 Con or Cha by chaos phage is immediately transformed into a red slaad. This transformation can only be reversed by a miracle or wish. A Small or Medium humanoid with levels in an arcane spellcasting class instead transforms into a green slaad. The save DC is Constitution based. Legendary (Ex) Ranna’s statistics are built with 25 point buy, and she has the equipment of an 18th level PC. These advantages increase her CR by +1. Opportune Target (Ex) If Ranna can act in the surprise round, she can study a foe as a free action and select them as her studied target. Stab and Grab (Ex) As a swift action, Ranna can attempt a steal combat maneuver against a dead or unconscious foe, or against a studied target that she has successfully confirmed a critical hit against. A dead or unconscious opponent takes a -10 penalty against this maneuver. Street Stalker (Ex) Ranna adds ½ her slayer level to Acrobatics checks made in urban environments.

[anime-rambles]

As It Should Have Been *RETIRED*

Pairing: Alpha!Bakugou x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of grape, omegaverse

Word Count: 2200+

A/N: Okay so, I got a bunch of great ideas that I was going to merge with the request I received from the prompt lists, but I wanted to make them longer than 500+ words. So the prompts are still open, and I have around 3/4 and for my own fics that I recently thought of the list is about 20+ now, a big mix of characters, ones that I haven't done yet like Denki, and Aizawa... I also started an Erwin fic today and it's a spicy one, the first of its kind.

On a side note, This fic I had released a snippet before but I am going to retire this fic, I don't really know where to go with it, as I had written like 2000 words, and I feel like it would be a waste not to release what I have as it kinda has an ending to it.

Summary: Bakugou didn't deserve to be where he was, he didn't deserve his number 1 spot as a pro-hero, he ruined your life and in turn, you will ruin his by taking everything he wanted in his life, a family, a happy omega and a successful rut.

*RETIRED, NO MORE PARTS OR UPDATES*

Permanent Taglist: @jasmine2042003 @jazzylove @amypop122 @misssugarless @plutounderbridges @butterscotch-babie @backoftheletter @gojosslvt @himi-yuu @ebiharachan @black-rose-29 @kenzi-woycehoski @ally-glow @tati-the-fangirl @theobsessedreader @ebiharachan

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TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

Fury, fury was all you could feel as you used your quirk to save not only yourself, your family but the civilians around you. The shining stars of UA had taken to charts as soon as they graduated, most of your friends were already in the top 10 and you couldn’t be prouder to have trained with them until now. 

Now you were angry, the villains had attacked and the heroes rushed straight into attack, ignoring the building crumbling around them. Typical. You stalked towards the graduates, shoving reporters out of the way, trying to get to them. You could see his blonde hair already and you knew deep down that today would be the day you might possibly kill someone. 

“BAKUGOU KATSUKI” You screamed as you got closer, shoving your hand forward and throwing an air current towards him. Bakugou dodge it just in time and all reporters around him stopped. His eyes met yours and you stood strong staring back at him. 

“Well, well, well, look who appears once again, tck” 

“I would happily never look at your face again Bakugou but somebody had their eye on the fucking top again and neglected to look around at what was happening.” you step closer to him, not backing down. You could feel your quirk under your skin begging to be released. 

“You're just jealous y/n, some wanna be hero drop out just tryna get their 5 minutes of fame.” Bakugou stood forward. 

“As if I would be jealous of the mighty dynamite, who would let civilians die around him.”

“Watch how you speak to me, omega, you have no right.” 

“oh i have every right, as you almost got me and my family killed.” you stepped towards him again, the air around your hands starting to solidify. You could hear little pops coming from Bakugou’s hands. 

“I might be a drop out of UA, an omega but I'll always have one thing you will never have Bakugou.”

“Tck, as if i need to hear this, you're dead to me y/n, live with that.” Bakguou said and stepped away from you. 

“Don't you dare turn your back on me.” You shout and throw your quirk towards him, throwing him forward from the force. 

“Don't make me put you in your place omega.” Bakugou got off the floor, and stalked towards you, releasing his pheromones  in an attempt to break you into submission.

“How dare you use your pheromones against me” You scream, throwing yourself at him, clawing at him. 

“I MAY BE AN OMEGA, BUT I’LL STILL KICK YOUR ASS” You added, Bakugou and you fought without quirks until you could feel yourself being dragged from him by a blur of red. You didn’t even have to look at the person to know who it was. 

“Kirishima let me go, LET ME GO” You shout, trying to wriggle your way out of his arms. 

“Calm down y/n, please this isn't the time or place for this.” He places you away from Bakugou and makes you look in his eyes. You nod and look around him, seeing all of your friends from UA, standing around. 

“What's going on y/n, please tell us.” Mina says as she takes a step forward. You look at Bakugou and see Deku trying to calm him down. 

“Well, it's a funny story actually, here i was just enjoying my day when a villain attacked the street, a lovely hero flew overhead attacking this villains and ignore the space they were in, now this hero had an explosion quirk and next thing you know the building I was under exploded and I had to activate my quirk, saving the civilians.” you say calmly and gesture to the area you came from. All heads turned to look, your quirk of air manipulation - force fields were currently holding massive boulders of concrete in the air and other heroes were pulling civilians from the broken building. 

“Holy shit y/n, are you still holding that up? Always knew you were a badass” Denki asks looking at you. 

“Yes Denki, I am, I had to train my hardest to keep up with you all this time” you smile at him.

“Too bad, you were good enough to stick around, tck” Bakugou says under his breath.

“Kacchen, that is so uncalled for.” Deku says, hitting him in the arm.

“You wanna say that louder” You take a step away from Kirishima and try to square up to Bakugou. 

“Mom, can I come out of the bubble now?” a little voice could be heard. You instantly switch to parent mode and turn to look at your son. 

“Of course, buddy I was just making sure it was safe, hence why I'm talking to these lovely heroes” you flick your hand and the protective bubble around your son disappears and he runs towards you. You pick him up, throw him in the air and catch him, causing him to giggle. 

“Hold on a minute, there's a little y/n, walking around and I didn’t know” Kirishima asks grinning at the child in your arms. 

“Hey baby look around you, look who's here” you whisper to your son, pointing around you. Your son gasps and points to each of the heroes. 

“Red Rite…..pinky……dekuuuu…..chargy…BOOMBOOM….and SHOTOOOOOO” Your son wriggles out of your arms and runs towards Shoto, who instantly bends down to pick him up. 

“Hey little man, you being good for mommy.” He asks, putting his full attention to your son. You smile looking at the two interacting. 

“WAIT, YOU AND ICYHOT” Bakugou shouts, making his way towards you. 

“IS THAT WHY YOU LEFT, YOU HAD A KID WITH ICYHOT, YOU CHEATED ON ME WITH HIM” He grabs your arms, forcing you to look at him.” 

“Hey Shoto, can you take Akaashi for me for the moment?” you turn your head to look at Shoto who had your son turned away from you with Kirishima distracting him. 

“Of course y/n” 

As Shoto left with your son you turned to look at Bakugou once more. You took a breath and stared into his eyes. 

“No Bakugou, I didn't not have a son with Shoto, if you stopped for a moment and actually looked at the kid you would notice some similarities with someone else present. Or if you used your head for a moment you would observe things around you.” you say calming, shoving his arms off you. 

“What are you talking about?” he asks, looking at you. Not once breaking eye contact. 

“Okay, let's try this again shall we, what age does my son look?” you ask him.

“I don't know, 6 maybe.”

“You haven't seen me in 4 years, how could he be 6?, no hes 3.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. 

“We were meant to go to the dance, but you never showed up and you disappeared y/n, I can't remember what happened the last i saw you.” he said, taking a step back. 

“Okay, next question, what happened when you last saw me?”

“Well, why don't I tell the brilliant Bakugou, you came to me before the dance but not as my caring boyfriend, the love of my life no? What I got when I opened my door was a disgusting alpha full of rut pheromones, and used them against me, forcing me into heat, marking me and making me pregnant.”

“What” was all Bakugou could say and he tried to wrap his head around this new information. 

“Look at him Katsuki, look at my son. Blonde hair and red eyes, sound familiar to you” you shout, tears leaving your eyes. Tears start to fill him also. 

“Kacchan, please say you didn't,” Deku says quietly behind. 

“He did Izuku, he did and left straight afterwards, when I confronted him later that night, he called me liar and claimed i cheated on him, stupid alpha didnt even know his own scent. Shortly afterwards I dropped out and Shoto saw me one day pregnant and has been taking care of us all this time. So although I can never have another alpha in my life, their is a plus, I know you can never have an omega in your life or have a successful rut ever again,” You stand tall as you look at Bakugou who was trying to rack his mind with the truth you had told him. 

In a flash, Bakugou launched for you, grabbing you by the neck. Shoving his mouth onto his mark and bit down. You screamed out, trying to break away. Deku tried his hardest to pull him off you. Bakugou pumped out pheromones to calm you down or throw you into heat you weren't sure. You screamed out again as he bit harder, and a blur of red tackled you both to the ground. Kirishima pulled Bakugou off you, you could hear your son screaming in the background scared that his mother was hurted but you could also hear Shoto calming him down. 

“What the hell Bakugou?” Kirishima shouted as he moved to look at your neck. Blood pooled around your collarbone as you tried to hold the bite tight. 

“I HAD TO, I HAD TO MAKE SURE” He barked as he stood up again, looking at you with teary eyes. 

“My words weren't enough?” You asked as Kirishima pulled you to your feet. 

“Of course they are, I would never doubt you, I was a stupid kid back then so ashamed of what i done I-” Bakugou paused and looked around at all his friends, “..y-You could’ve been a shifter, you could’ve been a phony. No one here can smell you bar me, I had to know y/n it was you,” Bakugou brings his hands to his face and cries. Your friends stand around and watch him, no words are exchanged. 

Paparazzi and news reporters had been cleared out from the area by your friends, giving you all some privacy. As Bakugou cried, you could feel your heart breaking. Yes you were mad and hurt by what had happened but Akaashi was the best thing that ever happened in your life. Yes you would’ve loved to have been a hero but being Akasshi’s mother was a dream come true. Yes there was still time to become a hero as you still had your hero license but right now your life was Akaashi. Tears formed in your eyes and you slowly stepped towards Bakugou. You reached for his arm to try and soothe him but he turned his body from yours. You reach forward again gripping his face and making him look at you. 

“Even though you ruined my life for a time, I have to thank you” you stare into his eyes. He stares right back at you. 

“You gave me two things that day, the most amazing child I will ever have and a glimpse of what my life would’ve been like shackled to your side and you know what I saw?” you ask him, not letting him look away from you. 

“I saw a shitty excuse of an Alpha who has no right to be where he is today” You push his face away from yours and take a deep breath before turning your full attention to your son who was happily giggling in Shoto’s arms. You could hear Deku trying to comfort Bakugou  but he simply shoves him off. 

“Y/n PLEASE, let me know my son, let me make it up to you, let me explain everything” Bakugou runs to you and holds your arm, you refuse to turn and look at him. 

“He is not your son, he will never be your son, you gave up that right all those years ago when you turned on me. Forget about him, he’ll never be yours” You reef your arm out of his hold and make your way towards Shoto and Akashi.  

Once you reach them, Akashi holds out his arms for you to pick him up from Shoto’s arms. “Sho-to prowmised ic- crem” you son says to you. You giggle and reply, “Oh did he now, hmmm-” you look at Shoto who is pretending to look into the sky. “-well you have been a good boy today so okay, just this once” You kiss your son on the head and begin to walk away. 

“Hey I’ve been a good boy too, can I get ice-cream” Denki asks as you begin to walk away, Mina wacks him on the arm and everyone begins to laugh and filter off except Bakugou, he can't move. His eyes are locked on you and his son, walking happily with Shoto. Fuming is brimming and taking over his entire soul. How can this be happening, his whole life and future is walking away from him. The future he gave up, the one he always wanted with you, the one he messed up all because he was a jealous kid who expected greatness without earning it first. There was one thing on Bakugou’s mind, he will get his family, he will get you back, and the truth he’s been hiding from since that night will be revealed. Damn his career, his friend's opinion, there's only one thing now he wants most in his life. That is to have you and Akaashi safe in his arms.

[lolitakirstein]

Hey Neighbor PT 13

I hope you enjoy this chapter! IDK I know toji isn't a big character in the franchise but I think that makes him so much fun to write.

AO3 link

Previous chapter

WC: ~2.5k

CW: Mentions of death violence and weapons

You pace the floors of your house to the point you're surprised there isn’t a groove left in your wake. It had been half an hour since leaving your message for Shiu. Now, you waited. For what? You didn’t know. A callback? A call saying you have the wrong number? Or do you call back, hoping for him to answer?

Your fingers bitten to nubs and legs exhausted, you slump down at the kitchen table. The letter is still where you left it. Face down, you couldn’t bother looking at the familiar handwriting that once crafted such lovely notes. Happy birthdays; Congrats on graduation; Just because I love you letter. Now she had spun a nightmare for you to read. The pages fluttered as the AC kicked on. It skidded an inch toward you. You watched it, glad you couldn’t read the blank page—

At that moment, you caught a faint line on the back of the letter. You hadn’t noticed it, more than ready to set it down and forget it. Or burn it. Your fingertips pull the letter closer to you. No, not a line. The script is small, only an inch across. And it wasn’t a word, it was numbers. 4 numbers.

Brows furrowing, you try to think what these numbers could mean. These numbers didn’t represent anything in your present knowledge. They weren’t a birthday of anyone in your immediate circle. Or their death days. Or phone number. It must be a code of some sort.

Audibly, you gasp and shoot up from your chair so fast you have to cling to the table until your vision clears. Once, the dizzy spell passes, you rush up the stairs 2 at a time and jerk the attic cord down. It lands with a loud clunk and you climb up, heart thundering in your chest, your head, your ear. 

Once in the attic, you find the metal safe. The blink of the keypad luring you. Again, you didn’t know if you wanted it to work or not. 

Your fingers tremble as you enter 3 of the numbers. Pausing to take a breath. This was it. You jab the last number, pressing the open button. 

Nothing happens for a moment. Maybe it wasn’t a code to this after all. Oh, well I tried—-

Beep.

The safelock clicks, barely opening the thick metal door. You creep closer as if what lies inside is a snake about to strike. The air suddenly became too thick. Suffocating as you slowly open the door. 

Nothing jumped out at you, both literally and figurately thank god. You take your phone from your back pocket and turn on the flashlight, shining it into the mouth of the safe. Lined with black cloth, the inside contains a neat file of folders, each with a date and a series of numbers written on the tabs. Beside those is a sheathed knife. Clearly not a cooking knife, you concluded. The handle was etched with a symbol you couldn’t identify. 

A small black bag was in the corner of the case, knotted with a drawstring like one of your small shoulder purses. You untie the knot and reach inside, thinking it empty since there is no weight it. 

Fuck! 

You pull your hand back out of the bag quickly. The palm of your hand is slit and already starting to leak blood. Whatever you had grabbed had been sharp. Like small teeth had bit.

Gently, you upend the bag and dump the object onto the floor of the safe. A wire slips out, the ends of which have a wooden handle attached. Not just an ordinary wire. This was a garrote. 

And not just a simple garrote. This one seemed to be made with a wire consisting of sharp barbs on it. 

This was a weapon of torture. And it wasn’t just enough that this garrote was to be used to strangle its victims. With enough strength and tightening this wire could easily slit someone’s throat. 

The thought makes your stomach churn. Had this very one been used before? On who? And by whom? Your grandmother. Bile rises into your mouth and you quickly swallow while pushing the garrote back into the bag and sliding it over. 

The phone light again bounces off a metal object. No surprise, a gun lay in the back of the case. You use the tip of your finger to pull it towards you. Remembering the adage to treat every gun as if it was loaded. You take it a step further and treat it as an explosive. 

Being sure it was aiming away from you, you hold the gun in your hand. The weight is foreign, you had never held anything more than a Nerf gun. Your heart rate quickens as you think about the damage this small object could do. The lives it could end. Had this too been used along with the garrote? 

You remember the way Toji had handled his weapon with such abandon. Did he not know how dangerous these were? Or was he already so skilled at wielding a gun that the motion was like breathing to him.

Skilled Marksmen

That’s what the letter said. But you knew that was a more formal term for what you had teased Toji about being. 

Assassin. 

You mentally slap yourself on the forehead at the memory of it. It all seems so easy to piece together now. Leaving Megumi with your grandmother to ‘keep him safe.’ The child referring to people as ‘bad guys.’ 

It also explains the essence that is Toji. Big, brutish with his looming form. You imagine the fear his ‘enemies’ must have when they come face to face with him. And yet.

Yet, you also knew that though he had a threatening presence you never once felt afraid. Intimidated? yes. Flustered? absolutely. He was protective of Megumi, of course. And although he technically stalked you while on a date. He did seem to want to protect you as well from a dangerous man. But was that only because he was obligated— Contracted? Forced? – to protect you? 

The doorbell quickly knocks you out of your daydream, almost dropping the gun still clutched in your hand. You shove it back to the far corner of the safe, shut the door, and head downstair. 

A small part of you hopes it’s Toji. Coming back to explain more. But what if it’s someone else? You slow your steps to the front door. Now you were wishing you had brought the gun along with you. 

The doorbell rings again, followed by a knock. By the front door table is a vase, you grab it intending to use it if it comes down to it. You take a steadying breath and unlock the door, cracking it ever so slightly while keeping your weight shifted forward in case you need to slam it. 

A familiar voice greets you. “There you are.”

Connor stands on the other side of the door. You huff out the breath you were holding, relieved. But that relief is short-lived as you remember the files lying behind you in your kitchen. Now you are racked with fear.

“Can I come in?” Connor asks, subtly trying to push the door open. “I wanna talk”

You swallow, trying to clear the lump in your throat. “Uhm, I’m sick. I don’t want you to catch it.”

“Please,” he rolls his eyes. “If you're sick so soon after seeing me then I’ve already got it too.”

“Well—”

Before you can reply he shoves his way in, rocking you backwards. 

“Gonna wack me over the head with that,” he laughs, gesturing towards the vase in your hands. He says it so coyly as though he knows you are no match for him. You scan his body, trying to notice any odd bulges in his pocket that would indicate he has a weapon. 

“I just didn’t know who it was.” you stammer as you place the vase back on the table. 

“You don’t have a security system? A camera?” he asks nonchalantly. 

“No.” In that moment you knew you had fucked up. Knew you basically announced you were unprotected. An easy target.

“Hmmph,” Connor looks around. Is he casing the place? So unabashedly? “Should get one.”

“My neighbor—Toji. He has cameras outside his house and usually warns me of anything suspicious.” you try to correct your mistake. It wasn’t a lie. You had seen the cameras before, one points from the corner of his house and one near the back door. 

“Hmm, good neighbor.” The sarcasm can be felt. “Still should get your own. Who knows? He could be the one to hurt you.”

“I trust him.” 

“Yeah?” He cocks a brow. “And whys that, y/n”

“I just–do.” Is he trying to turn you against toji? Why?

Connor stands in front of you with his arms crossed and legs apart. The intention was clear. He wants you to feel small. 

He tsks. “You women are so naive and so confusing.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. Connor stalks towards you, closing the gap. “Thinking men are going to protect you. One day you're shouting you hate all men, then you’re wanting them to save you.” He grasps a lock of your hair between his fingers. His touch sends chills down your spine.

“I think you should leave.”

“Why? Am I the big scary guy now? Do you hate me now?” he grips your chin, forcing you to look into his menacing eyes. “Who’s coming to help little old you?”

“I’ll scream, Toji will hear–”

“Nice try, darling.” he cuts you off, tapping the side of your cheek. “Mr. Fushiguro is out of town.”

How did he know?

“Don’t do this?” you plea. What you’re not wanting him to do you aren’t sure. Hurt you? Rape you? Kill you? You remember the long list of crimes you had read and a wave of nausea hits you. 

“Begging suits you,” he says darkly. 

“A bullet in your head would suit you.” a voice says from behind Connor, followed by a click of a gun. “I think it’s best you leave the woman alone.”

Your eyes widen as you stare around him. The man with Toji–Shiu–stands behind Connor, a gun pressed to the back of his head. Instead of flinching like a regular, sane person, Connor simply laughs. As if the whole ordeal is a joke. 

He gives a hmph before turning to face Shiu, saying, “Well played.”

Shiu still has the gun raised. “The lady asked you to leave. I think it wise that you do.”

Connor glances at you sidelong, a sly smile on his face. After another look around the space, he slinks to the open door. At the threshold, he turns. “Forget what I said about security systems. Looks like an exterminator is what you need. Get rid of the varmints.”

You look from Connor to Shiu, the three of you standing in a triangle formation—Shiu beside you now, gun lowered, but finger still on the trigger. Connor by the door, now realizing no more words are going to be exchanged. With a crooked grin and a shrug, he turns to leave finally. Throwing a hand lazily over his shoulder as a goodbye. “Trusting the wrong people, y/n”

Shiu quickly rushes to the door, closing it before turning to you. His eyes are now soft. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah?” you whisper.

Before collapsing on the floor. 

~Toji.~

Toji is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, sleep clouding his brain from a long week away. The haze quickly evaporates as he sees 2 forms in the kitchen. Both with their backs to him. One in a soft cotton dress, hair in a messy bun. The other is in an oversized shirt, standing on a stool, with familiar black hair poking in all directions. Both with their hands in the sink. Soft giggles coming from both mouths as they wash dishes. Toji steps forward, his footsteps announcing his arrival.

“Daddy!” Megumi squeals, stepping off the stool and rushing towards him. Toji bends and scoops him into his arms. The dense weight of his small child instantly comforting. He kisses his soft cheek. “Miss me?”

Megumi nestles into the crook of Toji’s neck, nodding. “We felt her!”

“Megumi that was going to be a surprise!” the other figure at the sink turns. Toji still swoons at the sound of that sweet voice. 

“What surprise, y/n?” he asks as he drinks you in. The way you brush the stray hairs from your face, the softness of your barefoot steps across the tile. The small and growing bump around your middle and the way your hand delicately touches it. You are more than glowing, you are radiant. Breast heavy with nourishment, prepared to feed his child. Our child. 

“We felt Little Bean kick earlier,” you beam. Reaching for Toji’s hand and placing it on your swollen belly. 

Toji moves his hand around your stomach, trying to feel what position the baby could be in. Suddenly, he feels it. A kick. Hard. So hard it knocks you forward. 

“Wow! That was—”

Megumi screams, his body scrambling in Toji’s arms. Toji looks up from your stomach, you are staring right at him with a glazed look. 

“Baby?” he trembles. 

Blood starts dribbling from your mouth, landing on the floor, on his hand, on top of your pregnant belly. Another kick—no a shot—jerks your body, a stain of red blossoming on your chest. 

Toji’s vision blurs at the edges. He looks around, trying to find the shooter, but he’s glued to the spot. Forced to watch as blood continues to run out of you. “No, No, NO!”

He grips Megumi tighter, so tight that the boy's body disintegrates, collapsing into ash in his arms. Toji's blood-curdling yell shakes the very foundation of the world, the house,  causing the ceiling to begin crumbling. His arms reach to touch you, to save you. But as soon as his fingertips touch your cheek, you crumble into dust like a statue. He bellows your name once again as the roof falls on all of you.

Toji jolts and gulps a deep breath of air. No house, or remains of a house surround him, just the bright lights of the inside of the private jet. The tires hitting the tarmac send vibrations up his back as the jet lands. He takes a few more steadying breaths. A dream. A sick dream. That’s all it was. 

But Toji knows sometimes dreams can be omens. He has always relied on his intuition. It’s part of what made him such a skilled killer after all. He mulls over the dream and the details of it, storing it away in his memory to sort out later. Right now, he has a job to do and can’t be distracted with dreams of Megumi. Of you. Of you carrying his child. Of you being harmed…

This dream was a warning. Everything Toji loved and the life he longed for could go up in flames and collapse around him in an instant. 

[lingy910y]

Joy List/Things I'm Excited About Today

aka current life events that make me happy, tagged by @iansw0rld and @heymrspatel

getting my cap and gown 😌😌 had to wait in line for an hour but getting them, a tassel and an envelope of an invitation, index card, and tickets was like getting christmas gifts

speaking of which - winning the lottery for an extra ticket. they only had 3 for guests bc there's so many ppl but i had to get an extra one for my family

tomorrow!!!!! i've hyped it up for 4 and a half years idc abt the heat wave

and getting enough motivation to finish the hw that i need to graduate 💀

my yearbook messages, i didn't know ppl i haven't talked to in a long time still think abt the time we spent together 🥺

playing jeopardy with my true crime class

all the junk food i ate at my spanish class' party

matching with a roomie and choosing our room (we saved 1k in exchange for no AC 💀)

i picked my classes for college already, i didn't know i could have only 5 classes??

playing games with my sister

meeting up with my friend who i haven't seen since elementary school and falling back into comfortableness so easily

songs that make me emotional and think abt life <3 ttpd, kevin atwater, and yorushika...

trash taste for making me laugh while i draw

writing an self-indulgent multi-chap fic (hopefully finished by gallavich week)

i finally did something for gallacrafts even tho idk if i'm satisfied

making art that will specifically make a moot crazy when they come back

all the gifsets that make me crazy and crazy shit ppl say in the tags of my art and drabbles (hi julissa specifically)

one of my best friends who lives all the way in malaysia, her boarding school takes everyone's phones so she can only come online for a week every two to four weeks so i miss her. but she is very sweet

tagging and sending love to @deedala, @energievie, @blue-disco-lights, @burninface, @vintagelacerosette, and anyone else who sees this