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sapphire-writes · 2 years

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an ego thing ~ modern!Aemond x Reader

previous part 1 // next part 3 // series masterlist

summary: part 2 of An Ego Thing; one-bed trope, but it's a study room 😏 I hope this brightens your Friday night loves! warnings: language, 18+ NSFW (oral & spicy times) word count: 2k note: I am working on requests but this got so much love and once I thought of the scenario I had to write it immediately! read more of my work here! 💚

“You sure you don’t want to bounce?” Baela asks, shoving her laptop into her bag.

You had been working with Baela on a project for another class for the past couple of hours. Confined to a study room off the main open space of your university’s library, where you could talk and explore different topics without being disruptive.

You sigh, looking at the time on your phone.

“ I shouldn’t,” you tell her reluctantly, “I have to get this paper for history in before 11:59.”

“Slacker,” Baela teases, heading for the door.

“Night! Good luck,” she calls, in a hushed whisper as she enters the main room of the library shutting the door behind her.

You groan, wanting nothing more than to crawl into your bed. You rub your eyes, opening your document for history. Fucking Aemond Targaryen. Can’t have a simple discussion with you and now you have another pointless assignment to finish.

You type away, eager to finish when the door to the study room opens.

“What’re you doing?” you ask, frowning at the tall man before you.

Aemond smirks.

“I reserved this room.”

“No, I had it reserved,” you argue.

Aemond raises a brow at your tone.

“Yeah, your time is up. Two-hour booking window, remember?”

He holds his phone toward you, noting the calendar used to reserve the study spaces. Fucker.

“Fine.”

You pack your stuff, eager to leave the space now that Aemond appeared. You scout throughout the library but no other rooms are available. You could just sit at a table, but you much prefer the seclusion a study room brings you.

“There are no other rooms.”

Aemond stares at you, his expression blank.

“How is that my problem?”

The sound of someone clearing their throat hits you and you turn your head. The librarian motions for you to shut the door. She presses a finger to her lips signaling you are being disruptive.

You check your phone again, the time slowly creeping closer to midnight.

“Aemond c’mon,” you say, exasperated.

He growls, looking away, flexing his fingers before continuing to type. You take that as an okay, shutting the door behind you and plopping yourself back into the seat across from him, taking out your computer.

You sit in silence, the sound of you both typing furiously in the space. Aemond closes his laptop as you begin to cite your references.

You glance up at him, finding him watching you. You scowl, already annoyed though he has yet to speak.

“Finished?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.

“Nearly.”

“Library closes soon.”

You look up at him again, nearly rolling your eyes.

“Then you should stop distracting me.”

He smirks then, perfect lips curling in malcontent.

“I’m distracting you?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

You can feel his stare burning into your face as you continue to type before he begins to gather his things. You look up, watching as he packs his stuff. You can’t help but think of what Luke Velaryon said after class. He catches your eye once more, and you look away quickly resuming your typing, cheeks flushing.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“My references,” you answer, not daring to look up.

“Surprised you found any,” he quips.

You meet his eyes once more.

“My points are extremely valid,” you argue.

Aemond tilts his head to the side. You feel an argument brewing.

“You know what? I don’t have time for this,” you tell him, closing your laptop.

You’re nearly finished, you just wanted to look over it once more before submitting it to your professor, but you could do that somewhere else. You shove a notebook into your bag, standing. Aemond follows suit.

“Whatever,” Aemond says, moving toward the door, backpack slung over his shoulder.

His hand is on the handle of the door, just opening it as you speak. Truly, you can’t seem to help yourself. You antagonize each other.

“Jerk,” you mutter.

Aemond freezes, the door open half an inch, just allowing you a view of the main room where few students remain. You watch a muscle in Aemond’s jaw twitch before he closes the door, dropping his bag to the ground. His eyes meet yours, a snarl on his face as he grabs your backpack from your hands, tossing it to the floor.

“Hey!” you tell him, eyes wide before he connects his lips to yours.

You’re too shocked at first, freezing as his hands find your waist, thumbs caressing the skin of your hips. Your eyelashes flutter as you give into the kiss, bringing your fingers to tangle in his silky hair. It's just as soft as it looks-not like you’ve imagined how it feels between your fingers or anything. You suppress a whimper as Aemond deepens the kiss, tilting his head to the side and exploring your mouth with his tongue. You allow it, shivering with the feeling of his hands on you, at the way he squeezes your hips, pushing you back against the table.

The table bites into the back of your thighs, and you gasp into Aemond’s mouth before he pulls away slightly. His eyes open, half-lidded as you meet his gaze.

“You’re infuriating,” he says, in a hoarse whisper.

It’s becoming difficult to breathe like the room lacks air.

“And you’re a pain in the ass,” you snarl in response, trying to keep your voice low.

Aemond kisses you again, harder this time. He brings a hand to hold your jaw and you can’t help a pathetic whine from escaping your lips. He is a good kisser, a great kisser actually. The pouty shape of his mouth fits against your lips perfectly.

You keep kissing for a moment, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment.

Shit, your paper.

You pull away, hands on his chest.

“Maybe we should take Velaryon’s advice then,” Aemond says suddenly before you can catch your bearings.

You blink in surprise, cheeks flushing. Your eyes drop to his lips as he speaks, nearly bruised from kissing. He takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, as though savoring the taste of yours.

“You’re serious?” you ask, not believing the words.

This has to be a trick of some kind. Aemond watches you carefully, with violet and blue eyes, before giving you a curt nod. Your lips part and Aemond’s eyes are drawn to the action.

“Okay,” you agree, and Aemond pulls you from the table, turning you around.

Your heart beats wildly.

“Here?” you hiss, back pressed against his chest.

You feel his lips press against your neck, nearly melting all the resistance from your muscles. He trails kisses down your neck, onto your shoulder nipping at your collarbone.

“Mhmm,” Aemond answers.

You can feel his hands on your leggings, pulling them down toward the floor. Your face is burning, but you’re too excited to feel self-conscious. The anticipation of what is to come, from who you’re doing it with, and from potentially being caught are making your head spin.

Aemond loops his long fingers through your underwear, pulling them down as well, leaving your bottom half bare.

“You’ll just have to be quiet,” he tells you, “wouldn’t want the librarian to come snooping.”

You scoff, feeling his hand on your back, bending you over the table.

“I highly doubt they’ll be anything to be noisy about,” you challenge, preparing to feel him pressing himself into you.

You’re wet from anticipation, and a quickie with Aemond Targaryen is bound to ease the unfiltered tension between you two. You wait for him, wait to hear the unbuckle of his belt but it doesn’t come.

You turn your head, looking behind you, and spot Aemond kneeling behind you.

“What are-” you are cut off by the feel of Aemond licking a stripe up your soaking slit.

You slam a hand over your mouth as his tongue continues its exploration. You can feel his sharp nose pressing into you, feel his tongue curling into your clenching hole. He moans against you, the vibrations causing a whimper to break through your hand.

Aemond chuckles against you, pulling away slightly.

“You’re all talk,” he whispers, flicking his tongue against your sensitive clit.

Your eyes roll back in your head at the attention he gives it, thighs trembling. For someone who knows how to talk, you’re now at a loss for words as Aemond continues slurping on your sensitive pussy. You feel your orgasm creeping up on you, a coil winding tighter within your stomach.

“Fuck I’m going to-” you whisper.

“Cum?” Aemond asks, and you can feel his smirk against your pussy, before he continues to lavish your clit with licks.

“Yes,” you answer, before reaching your peak, finishing on Aemond’s tongue.

Your cheek rests against the table as you catch your breath as Aemond rises to his feet.

“Shit,” you whisper, mind hazy.

“Mhmm,” Aemond answers.

You hear something tear and look behind you, as Aemond holds a condom in his hands. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You brought a condom to the library?” you ask.

“I always keep some on me,” he answers, unbuckling his belt.

You roll your eyes, as you watch him take out his cock. Your eyebrows raise at the sight, long and pale, the tip flushed red and already weeping with precum. You watch as he rolls the condom on, unable to stop your mouth from watering.

“Any other questions?” Aemond asks, bringing your attention back to his face.

You hate the smug look he wears.

“Just fuck me, Targaryen,” you growl.

“Will do,” Aemond says, guiding his cock into your center.

You feel his hand on your waist, as his cock splits into you, stretching you out. You bite into your hand trying to stop your moans. Your heart beats erratically, fearful of any noise that comes from the study room.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Shhh,” Aemond says, pulling back and thrusting into you, “you’ve got to be quiet.”

A wave of pleasure washes over you as Aemond continues to roll his hips into yours. Lewd, wet noises fill the space as Aemond fucks you. You can’t believe this is happening, you can’t believe Aemond Targaryen has you bent over a table fucking you. Fucking you as you’ve never been fucked before.

Small noises escape your mouth, and suddenly your hand is no longer good enough. Aemond brings his hand to your mouth instead, muffling the noises of pleasure that escape.

“I thought you were a good girl?” he purrs in your ear, continuing his thrusts.

I am, you think as your thighs clench, the table below you squeaking with the movements.

“No,” Aemond answers in a growl as if reading your mind, “good girls listen. Good girls don’t get bent over and fucked in the library. I think you’re a bad, bad girl.”

Warmth spreads through you at his dirty talk.

“Is that true?” he asks, “are you a bad girl, (Y/N)?”

You whimper against his palm, as he continues to pound into you.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckles.

You wish you had enough energy to snap back at him, but his cock has you basically drooling into his hand, so any chance of being witty needs to be saved for a different time. Aemond angles his hips, and suddenly the head of his cock is pressing against the spongy part inside of you that makes you see stars. Your legs tremble and you arch yourself flatter onto the table, pushing your ass into him.

“Fuck, that's good,” he breathes, releasing your mouth, using both hands to hold onto your hips as he jackhammers into you.

You bite into your wrist, hard enough to draw blood as your second orgasm crashes over you. Tears slide down your cheeks as Aemond chases his release, stifling his groan of pleasure not a moment later.

You stay conjoined, feeling his cock soften inside of you before he unsheaths himself, discarding the condom into a trashcan. You stay flat, trying to regulate your breathing.

“Shit!” you hiss suddenly, opening your computer.

“What?” he softly groans.

You open your pdf before attaching the file to an email, pressing send to your professor just as the clock hits 11:59. You smile triumphantly, causing Aemond to chuckle.

“Smart ass.”

taglist: @ephemeralninon, @aemonds-wifey, @haydee5010, @schniiipsel, @sweetsweetpsyche, @letmeloveyouuuu

HOTD taglist: @zillahvathek @tempt-ress

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gluion · 1 year

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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!

#zzoguri works #deoboyznet #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #eric sohn #the boyz #the boyz x reader #eric sohn x reader #the boyz imagines #sohn youngjae #sohn youngjae x reader #eric sohn imagines #sohn youngjae imagines #eric sohn fluff #sohn youngjae fluff

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yuusishi · 10 months

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Hello, can i ask for Idia or Ace (I can't choose between the two the one I want, so you can choose it), Lilia and Ruggie (my man need more love) hc with a reader that adopt legally Grim ? Like, now Grim have the last name of reader, and he call reader his dad/parent, and they have to be approved by Grim to date the reader ?

(separate please)

Have a good day/night (sorry for my bad english)

-Anon

. . . INTRO TO NON-HUMAN PARENTHOOD

pairings : Ace Trappola , Lilia Vanrouge , Ruggie Bucchi x gn!reader

genre : fluff , written with graduated!reader + characters in mind , established relationship

cws/tws : very tiny book 7 spoilers…like rlly small

a/n : it feels so weird not having any work done since my teachers assigned all our work before christmas break so we’d be able to rest

ACE TRAPPOLA !!

If he has to be honest, he doesn't know how to feel, not in a bad way tho!! He's so used to teasing Grim as a part of the first years friend group, but now that he's legally your child (and by extension his son), it just feels weird sometimes.

But in the end their relationship doesn't change one bit, this also means there's endless bickering whenever Ace comes by your place.

The one thing he can't get used to is though is Grim referring to you as his parent. I mean, c'mon, if you've been hearing "henchmen", "my human" for years it's bound to be quite the change.

During the legal adoption process, he's the type to be beside you searching on his cheap little laptop the meaning of so many words on the documents you're meant to sign (this is his way of helping you).

It doesn't sink in for a while that the three of you are technically a family, you occasionally joke about getting married in the (probably near) future and making Grim be the ringbearer or flowerboy.

One night when Ace crashed at your place, you came home to see him and Grim passed out on the couch next to each other, even seeing two slices of pizza purposefully left for you and hints of the tomato sauce stuck on the edges of the two's lips. You smile, nothing truly changes with these two.

Lilia Vanrouge !!

He's SO excited.

Silver's getting a new stepbrother once the legal process is done.

He's slightly disappointed though that, since Grim is already grown at this point, he won't be able to raise him like he did with Malleus and Silver but he'll still consider him a son either way.

I don't think unwanted fatherhood included brushing up on law and the adoption process so your guess on what terms on the documents mean is as good as his.

But we have the internet! Like Ace he's searching the meanings and making sure you understand the depth of every word printed onto the documents. Although he's hasn't formally adopted a child, he at least knows the legal repercussions that could happen should anything happen to Grim.

Overall, he's happy to have a new addition to his family :) First it was Malleus, then Silver came by, then Sebek, then now you and Grim.

When he first heard Grim refer to you as his parent, he can’t help imagining if Grim would call him “dad” or “father” like Silver does [cue heart attack].

He thinks about his general days occasionally, especially when he gazes on as you and Grim play around the field near the house he found after leaving NRC. He did not enjoy the war, not in the slightest, but maybe fighting in it was worth it if this was the type of future he's able to enjoy.

Ruggie Bucchi !!

He was really surprised, as in super surprised.

The entire concept of parenthood didn’t interest Ruggie in the slightest since it just meant more money to spend, even if it meant you had a little bundle of joy, but when you said that you were legally adopting Grim…

He looked at you like you set off a bomb in front of him 😭.

But after calming down a bit, he realized that Grim wouldn’t be even more of a handful than he already is since it’s not like he’s a baby that needs 24/7 caring.

Ruggie’s worked a ton of part time jobs just to earn some extra cash while on Sage’s Island, so he’s definitely dabbled in the law in one way or another.

He’s also just generally smart so he was your go-to man in asking the meaning of some legal jargon and he was happy to help you free of charge.

Hearing Grim call you his parent for the first time and even refer to you as that when you’re all at home surprised him a lot.

You’re telling him the little brat that always called you “human” and “henchman” in NRC calls you his parent now?? He can’t believe it.

After finally being able to adopt Grim, he didn’t feel the need to act “fatherly” since he’s known you both for years ever since NRC. Sure, he might be more open to going on midnight snack runs, but that’s it!

When reality sets down on him that he actually has his own ‘family’ now, it was a strange feeling. A sort of bittersweet happiness. It was a dream to him that he wishes would never go away, and you were there to remind him that this was his reality.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie x reader

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carleighalpha · 2 years

Text

SweetWater Nights

It’s late at night, {Y/N} has nothing better to do, so she calls the serpent king to tend to her desires.

Rating: M.

Word Count: 800

Imagine: Smut.

Warning: Nothing I can think of.

“ God, I’m bored.” {Y/N} said as she was typing away on her laptop. She pushed away a lock of her {H/L} {H/C} hair that got in her way. Being a 25 year old erotic writer, she did promise to submit a chapter for her book by the end of the month. She had ten days to submit the ten pages for the newest chapter. She looked in the mirror to see she wore her {F/C} zipper skull crop top, her cut up {S/F/C} jeans and her {T/F/C} converse shoes.

“ Let's see if the king is ready to sneak away.” {Y/N} said with a grin. The king she was referring to was the one and only Serpent King, FP Jones, who was just released from prison. She pulled out her phone and began to text him.

Kind of stuck ;). {Y/N} texted the king. The three little dots came up as it revealed a message.

Does the angel need a filling of inspiration? FP. The message read. He knew what {Y/N} wrote to keep her alive, but never said who it was in her novels. {Y/N} texted him back.

Sweetwater River. Look for my car. Same Spot. XOXO. {Y/N} texted and quickly grabbed a leather jacket. She quickly went to her car, a 1970 {C/C} Chevy Chevelle she called {C/N}. Starting the engine, she drove through the night till she reached SweetWater River. She drove into a small cluster of trees that hid her car. The sound of a motorcycle roared close as {Y/N} saw FP get off his bike and get close to the woman he loved to have these sexual windows with.

“ Been too long, sweet face.” {Y/N} said as FP took a long sniff of her hair, her smell made his pants a bit tight.

“ Way too long.” He said before kissing her. The kiss was hot as their emotions began to flourish. {Y/N} quickly opened the back door and the two went inside. FP was over his prize that he loved to comfort and loved to fill.

“ My beautiful angel.” FP said as he placed kisses against her neck after moving her locks. He moved one hand to unzip her crop top and take it off of her. Her breast came free as he played with one as his mouth kept attacking her neck.

“ Feels so good!” {Y/N} moaned out as FP moved up so he could take his shirt off. His tattoos were a major turn on for {Y/N}. The two then took their pants and shoes off before FP then sank his member into {Y/N}, causing her to moan loud. The car’s windows were getting fogged up. As FP began to thrust deep into {Y/N}. She wraps her legs around his waist as he began to go even deeper as the tip of his delicious member was practically pounding her cervix giving a delicious rubbing of {Y/N}’s inner walls causing all sorts of pleasure to make {Y/N} orgasm and cry out only for FP to kiss her to swallow her cries of pleasure. His hand sliding down the fogged window as {Y/N}’s walls began to contract around his member. The smell of her orgasm was almost too much, but FP stopped thrusting.

“ What? FP? What are you?” {Y/N} said breathlessly as FP smirked at her. He began to thrust quicker than before, which caused FP to smirk down at her before kissing her neck again. This time, FP doesn’t stop as he feels himself going over the edge as he bites on her neck and orgasms deep within her. He growls slowly before he stills. He lets go of her neck and kisses her before withdrawing himself from her. The two get out of the car after {Y/N} has her pants on and her shirt zipping up. FP has his shoes on with his pants and is now pulling his shirt on.

“ Thank you for the inspiration.” {Y/N} said with a grin. FP smiled at this.

“ It’s no problem. Just ring the next time you need more.” FP said before kissing the bite mark he left on her neck.

“ Of course.” {Y/N} said with a smirk. FP heads out on his bike as {Y/N} gets in her car. When she returns to her place, she walks in and quickly gets the chapter done. Smiling at the work as she recalls what transpired only an hour ago.

“ This is life. A serpent king being all kind to an angel for a sweet release.” {Y/N} said as she drank from her favorite mug with tea inside.

“ The angel with a sexual desire.” She said seductively.

#riverdale #riverdale smut #fp jones #fp jones smut

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freakingholland · 27 days

Text

"Law of attraction" – Asher Millstone x gn!reader

A/N: There aren’t enough HTGAWM fics here on tumblr so here I am with this little something for Asher! If you want to talk about the show or if you have ideas for some imagines feel free to slide into my asks 😊

Warnings: swearing, mentions of exam-related stress

Summary: The Keating 5 and reader are preparing for exams. Who would have thought that exam anxiety could give somebody enough courage to express their romantic feelings?

Set around season 3, post vacation but pre-jail era.

Word count: 1K +

If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist (needs a proper update)

my wattpad archive is here

my AO3 archive is here

September meant no more partying, but more preparations for the fall exams. You were stuck in the evening-lit library alongside Laurel, Asher, Michaela, and Connor. Wes did not take part in the study session since he was stolen by Annalise. They were preparing for a particular case with the help of Bonnie at Annalise’s place.

You could feel your eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. It was an nth hour of staring at your books, scrolling through documents and researching papers. The palms of your hands were stained with yellow and pink highlighters. You were sat between Laurel and Asher.

You glanced up from your notes to visually check on your friends, not wanting to disrupt them. Laurel’s eyes met yours and she smiled slightly. Tiredness was visible on her face as smudged mascara created a shadow underneath her eyes.

You looked to your right, heart skipping a beat as you caught sight of Asher, hunched over his notes, his posture sagged from exhaustion. The gentle blue light from his laptop’s screen reflected in his pretty brown eyes, giving them a shimmering hue that accentuated his warmth. His usually well-groomed hair was tousled and slightly disheveled.

His presence had a soothing effect on you, managing to lift your spirits even though he looked visibly tired. You couldn’t help but wish you could retreat to the comfort of your apartment with him. Yet, despite the butterflies in your stomach, you couldn’t muster the courage to admit your true feelings for Asher, leaving you trapped in longing for something more.

What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if saying something changes everything between you two? The thought of losing the closeness you have—of turning something so natural and easy into something complicated—keeps you quiet, even as your feelings for him grow stronger.

“So… I’m trying to remember this definition of Res Ipsa Loquitur and I keep messing it up. It’s so fucking long. Mind if I recite it to you and see if it sounds right?” Ash asked whispering, leaning into your ear.

“Go ahead.” you responded.

“Okay, here it goes: the thing speaks for itself, it refers to situations where the nature of an accident-- implies negligence due to the mere occurrence of the event.” he paused for a second.

“The doctrine—umm… allows a plaintiff to establish a presumption of negligence without direct evidence… provided the event is of a type that does not normally happen without negligence, and the instrumentality causing harm was under the-- defendant's control.”

You nodded with a grin.

“That sounds pretty solid.”

“Thanks.”

He exhaled heavily and leaned back in his chair crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

He shook his head no.

“Dude I’m so tired.” He murmured.

“I can tell. Me too. I could really use a nap.” You also leaned back in your chair.

“Mmm… a nap.” Asher reached out to grab his cup of now cold coffee. After taking a sip or two he turned back to you.

He laughed at his own thought.

“Remember that damned Civ Pro final?” He said.

“Oh yeah, you came out looking pale as fuck.”

“Seriously, I thought I was about to pass out right there in the exam room…”

“I’m starting to freak the fuck out if I’m being honest.” He exclaimed.

Michaela overheard the conversation and chuckled slightly.

“And what is that supposed to mean!”

“I told you to start reading that a week ago. But you guys were too busy with Annalise’s cases.”

“Aaaas alwaaays.” She added mockingly.

Ash only rolled his eyes in response to her remark.

“You’re not the only one who’s stressed out, but we got this.” You tried to reassure him.

He spaced out for a couple of seconds.

“You are right angel. We got this.”

He stood up abruptly and reached out to grab both your mugs.

“Anyone else wants some more coffee?”

You could feel your cheeks burning up. You eyed Ash up and down as he was making his way out of the room when your eyes met with Michaela’s. She gave you a wink and smiled.

The hours ticked by, and the evening grew darker.

The silence was suddenly interrupted when Oliver burst into the library, a cheerful grin spreading across his face as he carried a plastic container full of freshly baked cookies.

“There is absolutely nooooo way in hell that you made those!” Laurel said jumping up from her seat and walking towards Oli.

Oliver tilted his head pretending to be offended and smiled at her.

“It’s good to see you too! I did. You all look like you could use some glucose.” he said with sympathy in his tone.

She quickly took one of the cookies and bit into it.

Everyone stopped in their tracks and locked their gazes on Laurel to see her reaction.

“Okaaay these are… not too bad actually.”

“Gimme one I got to try!”

Michaela reluctantly bit into a cookie. She started nodding after taking two more bites.

“Not too bad huh?”

“Okay alright… pretty good Oli. Good job hun.”

He walked towards her and embraced her in a hug, making sure not to spill the cookies.

As the study session wrapped up and everyone started packing their bags, Asher turned to you, his eyes a mix of exhaustion and excitement.

"You know," he began, his voice softer now.

"Once we get through these exams, I think we deserve a break." You looked up, curious, as Asher continued.

"How about we celebrate with dinner? Just the two of us?"

The sudden invitation made your tiredness fade slightly as you quickly considered the offer.

"Dinner sounds nice. "

Asher's grin widened, clearly pleased with your response.

"Great, it’s a date then” he said, his tone playful yet sincere.

The others exchanged quick glances but pretended not to hear, letting the moment pass without interruption. With that, you headed out of the library, finally chatting about other, less boring matters.

You delicately poked Ash’s side. He looked down at you and hummed.

“Sooo do we have a plan for the dinner or-?”

“Mmm… I was thinking of something low-key, maybe just some good food at my place and no textbooks in sight?”

“That would be perfect.”

A/N 2: Part 2 soon? Yes? No? :)

#htgawm #asher millstone x reader #asher millstone imagine #asher millstone one shot #how to get away with murder #how to get away with murder imagine #how to get away with murder one shot #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #htgawm fanfic #gn reader #m #matt mcgorry #matt mcgorry x reader

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 2 months

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Rachel Connolly:

Earlier this year, I had a bout of what my friends and I term “mental health”. I was always tired. I couldn’t concentrate. I felt burnt out by the volume of communication that social media facilitates. I am 31 and, like many people my age, I’m in multiple group chats on WhatsApp and often find myself added to new ones. I use Instagram to post work and selfies, and to chat with people via the DM function. I use X similarly. (I’m too old for TikTok.) I enjoy some of this. I like talking nonsense with my friends. But I’d started to question how deliberate much of it was. I’d find myself posting a picture of a book I was reading and think, why do I need an audience to read? I began to wonder if, in the cycle of curating, recording and publicising our lives on social media, the things we do that are not seen and affirmed by people online feel somehow less “real”. My work as a writer means I probably get more online communication than the average person. Last year I published my first novel, and I have since noticed the slightly strange way that novels are discussed online. I get tagged in Instagram posts saying that my book is about a messy girl, a sad girl, a distant girl or a cold girl. There is an algorithmic basis to this. The easiest way to attract attention on social media is to talk about a trend everyone else is talking about, or to slot whatever you’re talking about into one of these trends.

So everywhere you look it is Brat summers or trad wives, cottage-core or bloke-core, high-functioning anxiety, parentified children or whatever happens to be the latest term for pathologising your life experience. Everything is flattened, simplified. I worried that being immersed in it was making me think this way too. A friend recently got a “dumb” phone, a Nokia 3210, to use when she’s out of the house. She leaves her smartphone at home like a landline. It has made her happier, she says. I needed a break too, but I was drawn to the idea of spending some time cut off from all communication. A reset, of sorts. I found a weekend-long silent retreat, no phones allowed, and booked myself in. My craving for a break is not uncommon. Social media is such a constant background presence in our lives that it’s easy to forget how recent it is. Facebook, which feels impossibly passé, is only 20. Instagram is not yet 15. Researchers first used the term “digital detox”, to refer to a period of abstention from phones and laptops, in 2012, around the same time that social media was really taking off (chat rooms had been around since the turn of the 1990s without the concept surfacing).

Digital detoxes remained unusual for a time. In 2015, Essena O’Neill, an Australian influencer with 612,000 Instagram followers, made news around the world when she released a statement about quitting the platform. Today, similar moves by celebrities are so common they barely make headlines. Billie Eilish deleted all social media apps from her phone. Actress Tavi Gevinson wrote about using an assistant to manage her Instagram. It has been hard to keep track of the number of times Stephen Fry has quit and rejoined Twitter over the years. These dramatic exits can seem amusing, especially when they’re followed by sheepish returns, but mostly they underscore how addictive and overwhelming social media can be. My silent retreat took place in a large house in rural Devon. I arrived on Friday, one of a group of about 50. We were allowed to speak during registration and, because I had gone there determined not to use reductive labels, I could already sense myself reaching for them. A young man told me he had done several silent retreats before. Ah, I thought, so you’re the type of person who does these often. Then I caught myself. What type would that be?

During the first meditation session, our instructors explained that we would sit and try to embody, rather than think about, the question “What is this?” This distinction struck me as confusing to the point of meaninglessness. But they explained that one way of attempting “not to think” about the question was to resist the urge to answer it. They encouraged us to focus instead on how we felt, on the physical sensations in our bodies. If you have never tried this, I will say that it is extremely difficult. We sat cross-legged for 30 minutes. I stared at a wall. Then we walked in a circle for 10 minutes. Then we sat down again, and so on, for about two hours. Then it was bedtime. I enjoyed the communality of me and the other girls silently working through our evening routines together. I realised that I had never decided to bring my phone everywhere, like an appendage to my body

The next two days were structured around meditation and chores. At 6.30am we were woken by a bell. We did two hours of meditation, after which we had breakfast. Then a break, followed by another two hours of meditation and lunch. My chore was washing up after we ate. Then more meditation, dinner, another break, meditation, bed. If sitting in an uncomfortable position and staring at a wall while trying not to think sounds impossibly boring, I would say it is not so different from the way my days would unfold when I worked in offices, traipsing from my desk to the tea station and back. More earnestly, I would say I could not have imagined how much I would enjoy the retreat, or how much I’d get out of it. Over the weekend, one of the instructors spoke about trying to be more conscious of the labels we put on our experiences and interactions. It struck me that a similar fatigue with the overload of digital communication is probably what draws a lot of people to try a silent retreat. We were all the type of person who is fed up with “types of people”.

On my first morning after breakfast, I went outside. The countryside seemed fantastically vivid. The blackbirds looked as beautiful as anything I had seen before. I watched one, like a dash of ink, flickering against the mottled grey sky, then two sailing as a pair, in tune with each other. I watched a cloud of them, pulsing. It reminded me of a jellyfish. Back inside, from my seat in the meditation room, I could see a tree that the birds would visit. When I was frustrated with the way my thoughts rattled around my head, reviewing unsaid rebuttals to months-old arguments, I watched the birds and imagined the paths they were taking in the world. One of my issues with the task “embody but try not to think” is that the semantic distinction between thinking and feeling is hard to grasp. If you notice that you feel happy or sad, is that a thought? Or a feeling? I found animals a useful framework to try to understand the distinction, as they negotiate the world using senses. A bird might fly north because of an environmental cue, but it does not say to itself in words, “I want to fly north.” I came to understand the task not as emptying your head of thoughts, but rather resisting the tendency to narrate things to yourself in words. I noticed that this interior monologuing would lead me along familiar, superficial trains of thought, to recent memories associated with certain feelings, say, and soon enough back to mundane anxieties.

At night, I would sit outside and look at the stars. The clouds, invisible in the darkness, shifted to expose one patch of stars, then another, making it look like the sky itself was swelling and shrinking. Memories and ideas still came to me, but deeper, more interesting ones than before. It was as if I had cleared the way for them. I remembered that I used to look at the stars when I was a teenager. I used to read about how they’re born, how they sustain themselves, why we see only some of them, how they die. On Monday morning at breakfast, we were allowed to speak again. Some participants had found the weekend hard, they said. One person had cried repeatedly. Others said that eating in silence had made them feel as though everyone was being cold towards them. As they talked, I remembered old corporate jobs where I was always the office loser. People could sense the aura of failure emanating from me, so I would eat lunch by myself, in silence. I got used to it. I didn’t feel I was learning anything valuable at the time, but life can surprise you. Sticking out is not so bad, I realised. This is the message of most children’s books, but one it’s easy to lose sight of as an adult. Other people’s perceptions of you, real or imagined, don’t have to influence how you see yourself. Social media is designed to erase this perspective. Much of the anxiety it fosters comes from forcing you to see yourself, constantly, as relative to others.

#meditation #contemplation #silence #silent retreat #scrolling #the internet #quotes #articles #Rachel Connolly

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drstonetrivia · 11 months

Text

Chapter 204 Trivia

What we thought may be a politics arc may in fact become a brotherly feud…

Galileo's quote is taken from his book "The Assayer", considered to be one of the pioneering works of the scientific method. At the time, most science was done by philosophical arguments rather than observation and trying to understand the mathematics behind them.

Math is the universal language because the symbols may change, but the meanings/axioms cannot. Because of this, the cover of the Golden Record placed on Voyager 1 (the probe leaving our solar system) has instructions written in math in the hopes some future beings can understand.

Ryusui wasn't wearing two swords last chapter, I wonder where they came from and why he's wearing them now…

(Maybe this is why Sai was running from him haha!)

Mathematical errors have ruined a lot of space missions: the Mariner 1 was destroyed because of a missing hyphen, and the Mars Climate Orbiter was destroyed on landing because of a failure to convert units.

Avoiding these errors was very difficult when it was all done by hand.

This seems to be at least partially true, however the practice has lessened over the decades. Indian-educated parents and grandparents may remember, but students these days probably only need to learn up to 19x19!

The HR industry in India is incredibly large, and are a very useful resource to have for any business looking to scale up. It's not surprising that the Nanami Corporation set up a university there!

Sai appears to be the 554th most popular name in India and can be used for both genders, but it's generally a male name.

The equations in the background here I haven't identified yet, but the gamma (γ) thrust here may be alluding to the thrust equation used with rocket engines in space. The gamma is the specific heat ratio of the gas.

The day is October 1st, so the team likely left Spain sometime between September 15th-20th if it did in fact take them 10 days to travel the distance (with some delays because of the Suez situation).

The food here may be a somewhat generic curry as the sound effect seems to indicate, or it could also be lamb gosht based on the color, region, and spices used.

Technically we don't know that Ruri specifically called for the defensive positions, but we do know everyone in Japan is probably in them.

I think this is the same sky image as the one Tsukasa saw in chapter 188, but with a different star pattern.

The Fellenius method and what Senku is actually doing here is dividing the slopes into segments and calculating how stable each one is using the properties of the dirt and rock. Putting the segments together should give you how likely a rock slide is. Strata are layers of rock.

The many-armed pose Sai is found in is a reference to Durga, a major Hindu deity. She is associated with protection, strength, motherhood, destruction and wars.

This comment I believe is Chelsea's from the "I'm not a fan" part, with the "baaad" learnt from Chrome's habit.

The meaning of her comment is confusing, but it might be because the last pretty-boy character introduced was a villain (Stanley), however shes also a fan of Hyoga…?

Sai's outfit is very simple and rather lacking compared to Ryusui's, however they share elements such as the collar type and addition of a belt.

The belt buckle is very interesting, it doesn't follow Ryusui's nor Nanami Corp.'s branding and looks like a C+.

My guesses for the meaning: -C+, the programming language, based off the fact he was petrified on his laptop presumably. -C, the Roman numeral, indicating 100+ because of the million-times brainpower comment (million in Japanese is 百万, 百=100). -C, from E=mc^2, for light speed.

Sai's odd yell ("peegyaaaah!") may be a computer joke, as the sound effect "ピ" (pi) tends to be used for computer beeps, like pressing a button.

A similar sound has been used in the past for Xeno's encryption device.

Sai's character could go a lot of directions since he's unlikely to be one of the traditional nerds they described, nor one like Joel since Joel exists. What Ryusui did to scare off his older brother though, I'm very curious about…

#trivia #dr stone #chapters #sai nanami #204 #bit of me-trivia here: i got spoiled from the leaks from someone updating ryusui's wiki page to include sai and i assumed it was a joke #until i read the chapter and was like “ah.”#i still wish there were more hints to sai's existence before he suddenly appeared out of nowhere

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thatgirliehan · 5 months

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reflection: Her

Description: An idol who loves art and a museum curator who makes art. With their slightly crazy friends, a 9-week deadline , a world tour, and a big secret, what could possibly go wrong?

NOTE: This is a fanfiction. Any resemblance to actual people is a coincidence. This story is from my brain and not real life.

My phone dinged right as I got off the bus. I glanced down as I start walking, it was a calendar alert "BTS concert TOMORROW". My heart skipped a beat and I couldnt help but do a quick happy dance. It's finaly happening, the thing I had been waiting on for MONTHS was finally tomorrow! With that happy reminder in the back of my head I waltzed through the doors of the museum where I worked, ready to start another day, a little happier than normal. "Good morning y/n", said Bill the front door guard "you seem a lot more awake today than normal, finally get coffee before work?" "Ha. Ha. Ha Bill, you're hilarious! The concert I've been waiting absolute months for is finally tomorrow, I'm just super excited!" "Oh, those pretty boys you constantly listen to, right?" said Bill. "Theyre called BTS Bill" I mumbled under my breath. Bill is about 70 years old and is like my work Grandpa. I love him to death, but he doesnt really get the whole kpop thing, he's more of a Willy Nelson type.

"Well, I need to go!" I said as I started walking away. "With the head curator and the other junior curator off at a conference for the rest of the week, I was the one basically running the museum. I was freaking out at first when they told me that they were BOTH going, I mean, I've only been working here 2 years, and I am the junior, JUNIOR curator. That means I get the fun jobs of writing up the placks for the art, or at most dusting the art. I'm not even allowed to touch the art by myself yet, you have to be a junior curator for that.

I get to my desk, because junior JUNIOR curators dont have an office, just a desk in the supply room (closet) and set my purse down on my desk. It was 30 minutes to 10, which was when we opened. I still had time to dust the main exhibit and turn on all the lights before I had to open the doors. My art museum was a small one, but we had a few really good pieces from some very famous artists, so we drew a modest crowd every day. Honestly, I was really lucky to have this job. Not many people get their dream job right out of college. I popped in an airpod and turned on my favorite cleaning playlist. Mic drop shuffled on first so of course I danced the chorus as I dusted, dropping my duster at the end of the song like Suga.

I finish up all of my opening tasks and head back to the front desk, as I'm straightening some pamphlets in the front desk, I hear my phone chime. I look down at the screen and see an alert that says "Sorry y/n, I'm throwing up everywhere, I'm not gonna make it to work today. Xoxo Minha" "Greaaaatttttttttttttttttttttttt", I think, my good mood vanishing in a flash, I'm completely alone today. Minha is my friend and a year younger than me, she works the front desk. With her gone, I'm going to have to do her job...and then it hits me. I'm ALONE. And I'm supposed to be researching and writing the placks for the new exhibit thats coming next week. Greattttttttttttt. I check the time, 5 minutes before opening. "Shiitttttttttttttrake mushrooms" I mutter under my breath as I run to my office...ok desk....and frantically grab my laptop, planner, 3 enormous reference books and my pouch and run back to the front desk. Looks like I'm going to be doing both today. "Curse you Minha", I think to myself as I drop everything on the front desk. I check my phone and I still have 3 and a half minutes till opening. Which is good, because since I hadn't expected to be at the front desk, I had only done minimal makeups....and in my personal experience, people were nicer when I had a more girly makeup style. I grabbed my pouch and got out my favorite (fine, only) yves saint laurent lip tint, it was a beautiful shiny coral pink color and it made me feel like I was a member of twice. I popped it on my lips and went to unlock the door. If I was lucky, maybe it would be an extra slow day and I would be able to get the rest of the placks done.

I....was not lucky. It was a very busy morning. So busy that I didn't have a single minute to even look at my reference books until 12:30. There was finally a lull as the morning crowd left so I grabbed my reference books and laptop and got to work typing up those placks. I was so engrossed in my research that I didnt notice someone had walked up to the front desk until I heard "uh, excuse me". I was so startled that I let out a high pitched yelp, jumping out of my chair, knocking it over.

Standing at the front desk was a boy. Man? He was very tall, wearing fashionable street wear, a baseball cap that shieled his eyes and a mask covering the lower half of his face.

"Ohmygoodness, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize anyone was there!" I said quickly, closing my laptop and picking my chair up from the ground.

"Uh...sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you" the man said in a low, soft voice.

#kim namjoon #bts #bts rm #fanfic #bangtan #art #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts rm fanfic #fluff #bts fluff #rm scenarios #bts x you #bts scenarios

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lemoncrushh · 11 days

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Out of Bounds - Chapter 16

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 2676

Despite getting up early, Harry and I were late arriving to History class. I'd made the mistake of mentioning a chai latte I was craving, so Harry insisted on stopping at Starbucks on the way. Unfortunately, the line was very long and very slow.

Professor Jacobson eyed us over the top of his spectacles when we walked in, sheepishly taking our seats. He continued his lecture without a word to us as we opened our laptops. After class Harry and I separated, but instead of making my usual trip to the snack bar since I'd just finished my chai latte, I made why way toward the library again.

"Hey, Tisa," I heard from a familiar voice. I turned to see Zack waving at me.

"Hi, Zack," I greeted warmly, giving him a quick hug.

"Everything alright?" he asked. I knew he was referring to the last time we'd seen each other.

"Great," I nodded.

"I'm glad," smiled Zack. "Listen, I know it's none of my business, but for what it's worth, I think you and Harry belong together. I've never seen him as happy as he is when he's with you or talking about you. I really hope things work out for you two."

"Thank you, Zack," I said, my hand over my heart. "That really means a lot to me."

"You're welcome. And hey, we need to get together sometime. Penny adores you; she told me."

I grinned. "I adore her too."

"We'll go see her band or just hang out or something, it'll be fun."

"Okay, yeah, sounds great!" I exclaimed.

"Alright then, talk to you later, Tisa."

I waved goodbye and walked up the steps to the library, feeling happy and excited. The feeling was short-lived however, when I unpacked my belongings and realized I had a voicemail from James.

"Hi, baby, it's me," he said. "I'm headed back a little earlier than I'd anticipated. I'm trying to get a flight back tonight, but everything seems booked up. But if I can get something, I'll be home tonight, otherwise first thing in the morning. I'll call you later and let you know."

Damn. Harry didn't have to work tonight, and I had been looking forward to spending the evening with him. I guess all I could do now was wait for James's next call to know for sure.

I opened my computer, but instead of working on the Sociology report like I'd originally planned, I began typing a letter to James. I had no idea if I would ever give it to him. In a way, it was a letter to myself. I expressed all of my feelings, wants, desires. I never once mentioned Harry, or even implied I was having an affair. Because although ultimately I wanted to be with Harry, it wasn't really about him.

I typed and typed, spilling my guts until tears were streaming down my face. I told him how I cared about him, but was no longer in love with him, if I ever was in love. I told him how I didn't like being treated like a child, and how I felt like one sometimes in our home. I told him how it bothered me that we slept in separate rooms and never had sex. I told him I wanted out, and that I planned to leave.

Looking at the clock in the corner of the screen, I realized I had ten minutes to get to English. I quickly closed my laptop and shoved it in my backpack. I jogged to the English building, arriving just in time. Wiping my eyes, I walked in and took my seat. I tried hard to pay attention to Professor Lloyd, but my mind inevitably wandered. I wanted to talk to Harry. And I knew I needed to talk to James. The hour ticked by slowly, but I also still had another hour to wait for Harry.

This time I did walk to the snack bar to grab a bottle of water. Then I sat in the corner pretending to read. I kept checking my phone for any new messages from James, but there came none. Instead, I decided to text Justine. I knew she'd be at work, but she had texted me on Monday and I'd never gotten back to her. I tried to sound chipper.

T: Hey! Sorry I didn't text or call. Been busy. Party was great. Tell me about your date!

I went back to reading my book, not expecting her to reply right away. But a few minutes later she did.

J: Hey girl! Glad the party went well. You'll have to tell me all about it when we can chat. At work now. Date was fantastic!!! Again, I'll tell you more later! ;)

I set my phone down, concluding that I would call her later, and picked up my book again. Deep into the story, the sudden vibration of a text alert startled me. I looked at my phone expecting a text from either Justine or James, but it was Harry.

H: Where are you?

T: Snack bar

H: ok

A few minutes later, he walked in. Just seeing his face never ceased to give me chills or make my heart flutter. I watched him as another guy greeted him and he stopped for a second to chat.

I heard a girl at the table in front of mine mutter, "Damn, hottie alert."

She poked her friend whose eyes followed him as he came towards me. I smiled and pushed out the chair next to mine so he could sit down.

"Hi, love," he said, leaning over to kiss me. I could feel the girls' glares and admittedly it made me proud.

"Did you get out of class early?" I asked.

"Yeah, teacher had to go to a meeting or something."

"Good, then we can go."

I grabbed my things and followed Harry out to the parking lot. Once in the car, I told him about James coming home.

"Then I should probably go on home too," he declared.

"Why? I haven't heard from him yet. He's supposed to let me know if he's gotten a flight for tonight or tomorrow."

"But what if he gets a flight at the last minute and doesn't call?"

Exasperated, I made a compromise. "I have an idea. Why don't I just come to your place? If he calls and says he's coming today, then I'll just go home."

"Yeah?"

"I'm determined to be with you, Harry."

He reached over and grabbed my hand, knowing I didn't just mean today.

Four hours later, I still hadn't heard from James. Harry and I sat on the couch watching Dazed and Confused, my legs sprawled out across his. Joey and Zack had been there earlier playing Xbox, shouting at the TV screen while Harry and I ate lunch at the table. Then Zack had to start getting ready for work, and Joey got the hint and left.

Harry absent-mindedly began picking at the hole in the knee of my jeans. I watched his face glued to the television, though I knew his mind was on something else other than Ben Affleck being a dickhead.

"I love you," I whispered.

He turned his head swiftly and grinned. "I love you, too."

Taking my face in his hands, he kissed me tenderly. I scooted my body closer to him, so that my rear was barely touching his hip, my legs still across his lap. I put my arms around his waist and kissed him some more until I heard a faint sound behind me.

"Have a good night, mate," Harry said above my head.

I turned slightly to see Zack with his keys in his hand.

"Take care, you two," he said with a wink before shutting the door behind him.

"Alone at last," I exhaled.

I sat up and straddled Harry, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of his face to his neck. He moved his hands down my back, cupping my butt cheeks. I had just finished unbuttoning his shirt and was about to kiss his chest when I heard my phone vibrate on the coffee table.

"Now?" I exclaimed. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

I reached behind me to retrieve my cell which indeed displayed James's name. It was a short text that said to call him.

"Sorry," I whispered to Harry. He just shrugged.

I climbed off of him and walked into the bedroom to call James.

"Hi, baby, sorry I didn't call, but I'm at the airport now. I got an earlier flight."

"What? You're here?" I felt like I would throw up.

"Yeah, Ginger couldn't get me a later flight so I took an earlier one. I should be home soon."

"Oh," I said, hoping he couldn't hear the cry in my voice. "Okay."

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too." I could taste the bile in my throat.

I hung up and slowly walked back into the living room. Harry looked up to see my distraught face. Without a word, he stood and took me into his arms. I cried into his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, my shoulders shaking.

"I don't want this anymore, Harry," I mumbled.

"Shhh," he soothed, rubbing my back. "It's gonna be okay."

"I have to go."

I grabbed my purse and keys and Harry walked me out to my car which I'd taken separately after we'd gotten home from school. He kissed me as I leaned against it.

"I wish we could have spent more time together," I said.

"We will," he assured me. "And it's alright. I love every moment I can get with you."

"You're so wonderful," I sighed.

He kissed me once more before I got in the car. I tried my best not to cry on the way home. I knew there were things I needed to tell James. Perhaps it wouldn't be tonight, perhaps it would. I was nervous, but I felt like I needed to play it by ear. I knew Harry and I would be together, no matter what.

"I'm home!" I heard James call from the kitchen.

Normally, I would greet him at the door with kisses and I love yous when he came home from business trips. This time it just wasn't in me. I'd come back from Harry's and thrown on some flannel pajamas, not the little shorts that Harry thought were sexy, and was on my computer, checking my emails.

"Hi," I said when I walked into the kitchen. James was sorting through the mail I had left on the counter.

"What's this?" he asked when he noticed my attire. "I thought maybe we could go out to dinner."

"Oh," I mouthed. "I'm not really up for going out."

"Are you sick?"

I shrugged. "Not really. Just tired. It's been a long day."

"It's not even six yet," he countered.

"I know...I..."

James rolled his eyes at me and leaned against the counter. "I just got home, baby. I got home early because I wanted to spend time with you before I have to get up and go to work again. Can't you just put on some clothes so we can go eat?"

Feeling guilty I nodded and walked back to my room to change. When we got in the car, I asked James where he wanted to go.

"How about Mikado's?" he suggested.

My eyes about popped out of my head. "What?"

"I go there sometimes for lunch with clients and colleagues, but I realized I never take you. You'd like it. They gave great nachos."

"Um...okay..." I swallowed hard and bit my lip.

I looked out the window for the entire ride, my stomach in knots. Of course I knew Harry wasn't working, but the idea of going to Mikado's with James was harrowing.

Because it was only a Wednesday, the restaurant wasn't crowded, and we got seated right away. My heart just about beat out of my chest when our waiter came to greet us.

"Hi!" Zack said a little too emphatically before he realized the situation.

Making it a little easier on him, I smiled. "Hi, Zack."

James looked from me to Zack and back to me. "You know each other from school?"

"Uh...yeah," muttered Zack.

"Actually," I explained, "he's Harry's roommate."

"Ah the infamous Harry," James mused. "Does he work here too? I'd like to meet him."

I clinched my teeth, eyeing Zack.

"Yeah, but he's off tonight."

"Oh, well, next time then."

Zack saved us from more distress by taking our drink orders. When he left the table, I could feel the heat rising to my face, but I didn't want James to suspect anything.

"So tell me about your trip," I said.

James put his elbows on the table and sighed. "Not much to tell, really. Meetings with clients. Meetings with the boss."

"Well, I guess it was successful," I noted.

"What do you mean?"

"You came back early. Doesn't that mean you got done what you went out there to do?"

Zack returned then with our drinks and took our food order.

"Tisa, this is an ongoing process," James continued when he left. "One trip doesn't set everything in stone."

"Oh."

"Besides, I wanted to come home and see my wife."

"Oh." I didn't really appreciate his condescending tone.

"But you act like you didn't miss me at all."

He furrowed his brows and looked very angry. Not necessarily hurt, more like pissed off.

"I'm sorry, James," I insisted. "I didn't mean —"

"I don't know what's going on with you lately, but I don't like it."

"Really," I said, taken aback.

"Yeah you hardly kiss me anymore, if I kiss you it's like you're doing me a favor. I called you and you didn't sound excited to hear from me..."

"I'm sorry," I lied. "I hadn't realized."

"Ugh, it's okay, Tisa," he waved me off. "I guess I was just disappointed that you were in your pajamas when I got home instead of at the door, ready to hug me."

"I'm sorry," I said for the third time.

We sat in silence except for James softly humming to the music playing overhead. I sipped my water, looking around the room at the art and decor. Finally, Zack brought us our meals, giving us a valid excuse not to talk. As he laid my plate down in front of me, I gave him a look, hoping he would interpret it as a combination of I'm so sorry and help.

James and I made it through dinner, and on the ride home he finally asked me about school. I told him it was going well and that so far, I was making all A's. He said that made him happy.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" he asked when we arrived home.

"No," I shook my head. "I have some homework and then I'm going to bed. I really am tired."

"Oh, okay," he sighed, defeated.

I went to my room and shut the door. I changed back into my pajamas and texted Harry.

T: I'm so sorry. James took me to Mikado's for dinner. Zack was our waiter. I was so embarrassed.

H: Why are you sorry?

T: Because it was humiliating. I felt bad for Zack.

H: Don't. Are you ok?

T: Not really. It's just becoming more and more apparent that I need out of this marriage.

H: Do you need to talk? Can you call me?

T: Not right now. I'll probably be going to bed soon, so I'll see you in the morning.

H: Ok. I love you.

T: I love you too.

I placed my phone on my nightstand and pulled down the covers on my bed. Then I opened my laptop and read over the letter I had typed for James earlier. I was considering giving it to him. But not tonight. It would only start a fight, and I was too tired. One more day wouldn't hurt.

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