#<- it was just three of us last semester so I developed a way to help myself lead the group

[riddled-forensic]

planning out my cooking lab tomorrow, let’s see if I can make this work with 4 people…. it’s pan cakes so hopefully everyone has experience but I never know with these girls 🙂‍↕️

[lonely-ey3s]

The Chemistry Between Us | part 1

reedrichards!professor x f!reader (teachers aid)

chapter summary: you are taking Reed Richards physics class this semester after taking two prior classes the last two semesters. you have developed somewhat of a crush on your handsome professor. when he asked you to be his student aid, you can't refuse. after some time together alone after class, you two start to realize that perhaps the feelings for each other are mutual.

chapter warnings: fluff, talks of smut, reed is not married to sue, small age gap, (student is finishing degree, maybe 8-10 year gap), mutual pining.

word count: 3k

a/n: after the trailer release my mind went buzzing and i was clawing at the bars of my enclosure - i cannot emphasize how this man will ruin my life when we see this come out in july. ruin my life.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics 

Masterlist

Professor Reed Richards has been your teacher for 3 classes now, chemistry, biochemistry, and now for this semester, physics. 

Now one could say you were super smart and taking all his classes was just your way of staying on track for your degree- which you were. But a part of you also was in it for reasons that wouldn’t be deemed appropriate according to the school’s code of conduct. 

On the first day of class, he went over the syllabus, explained what was expected of everyone, and showed a few examples of what you’d be learning, which was something he did for the other few classes you had attended. He was a very visual and hands-on teacher, always showing what could come out of something if the right rules, concepts, and procedures were applied.  

You noticed as he was introducing himself in the beginning, he looked around the group of students, and his eyes fell on you. He smiled and nodded your way as he continued to speak as if he was nonverbally saying, ‘I remember you’, which earned a blush and a small smile from you before you stuck your head down shyly to note what he was saying. 

You barely looked up after that reaction, too embarrassed to blush if he were to look your way again so you wrote notes on everything he mentioned as well as doodled when he began to go over the normal rules and expectations of his lecture, things you had already heard in the last two classes. 

Right on time, he dismissed the class after instructing that chapters one through four would need to be read before the next class but before you could make it out of the auditorium he cleared his throat and called your first name from his desk. 

You had gathered your books in your arms and were three steps away from the door when you stopped and looked back, “Yes, Professor?” you said softly. 

He used his hand that was holding a stick of chalk to beckon you to him, “Could I have a word with you?” 

You all of a sudden felt a little nervous and shy by this sudden request. 

You’d had this man’s classes for a little over a year now and not once had you two exchanged conversation privately. The only ‘interaction’ apart from today’s- if you can call it that was glances here and there while in lecture or the lab, and of course when you’d raise your hand to ask a question, but nothing more than that. However, not once did he call you by your name, always ‘Miss’ or your last name as he did with everyone else. 

You felt a warmth as your name rolled off his tongue, going down, betraying you between your thighs. 

You cleared your throat and made your way down the stairs towards him and the blackboard he had been scribbling on during class to show some examples of what you’d be learning. 

“Yes, Mr. Richards?” you said softly. 

He ran his hand through his hair, making a few curls fall forward, furthering the dampness in your panties by the downright sin that he was committing right now with how good he looked.

He looked down as he shuffled through some papers, “It seems that the university is advising for this semester I take on a teacher's aid...” he said as he focused on reading some papers in front of him, “It seems they think my work and study aren’t mixing well as I’ve been known to be a few moments late to a few lectures the last couple weeks…” he softly cleared his throat. 

“Well… if you were to ask me, everyone here knows how important and impactful your work is, Professor. To my knowledge, no one complains when those late moments do arise…” you softly said, “I think they may be a little dramatic to make you take on a student aide, sir.” you shrugged nonchalantly. 

He looked up and chuckled softly, finding your eyes, “So does that mean you wouldn’t want the job?” a small smile that could be mistaken for a smirk etched across his lips. 

Your cheeks betrayed you and turned pink, “I… I’m sorry you’d want me to be your aid?” 

He nodded and leaned his hands against the desk, making the veins in his hands and forearms pop as his sleeves were rolled up halfway up his forearm, “Should something disqualify you from being my choice?” he looked at you from your head slowly down to your feet then back up, checking you out from the way that small smile grew just a little wider before he continued. 

“You would sit in on my chemistry class which you’ve already done and passed with flying colors - but mainly it would be after lecture, helping grade papers, keeping things organized in the gradebook… no more than a couple hours every few days…” he trailed off as he looked at your book you were holding against your chest, and for a split second found his eyes wondering to your cleavage accentuated by the book being pressed against you. 

He quickly snapped out of it cleared his throat, getting too cocky with his gaze, and looked back down at the papers before he turned towards the chalkboard to continue scribbling calculations. Attempting to ignore the sudden and strong blood flow traveling down to his cock, “What do you say?” he asked softly. 

You thought for a moment then nodded, clearing your throat, “When do we start?” 

A couple of weeks had gone by since Reed had asked you to be his TA, and after that, he insisted you call him by his first name as now you were technically partners in the classroom. He insisted giving you some weight and respect when introducing you to his classes, especially when students that would come in and sometimes ignore you, not thinking of you as “good enough”-which bothered him.

You were smarter than most of the people that come through this school and to see you blown off mostly because you were a woman rubbed him the wrong way. 

One student called you a no more than just a secretary under his breath to his friends as you were grading papers as Reed lectured. Unfortunately, it loud enough that Reed heard.

Reed cleared his throat and turned around mid sentence, “Do we have a volunteer to finish this” within a second, not giving anyone the chance to raise a hand he called on the student to the front, humiliating and embarrassing him as he fumbled to guess a correct result, being caught off guard as he was one to rarely pay attention in class.

You had to put your hand over your mouth to hide the smile splayed across your face at the obvious act of protection for your respect Reed was currently displaying.

Once he looked at Reed to signal he was finished, Reed looked over the work and tsked, shook his head, then hummed disappointedly before he cleared his throat and called your name softly and holding out the chalk for you to take, “Could you please show us the correct way of solving this?”

You stood and brushed your fingers against his as you took the chalk from him then erased the young man’s work before writing and explaining the correct way to the class. When finished you placed the chalk down and turning around and walking past the student dusting off your hands, whispering as you passed him, “Not bad for ‘just the secretary’, right?” then winked and sat back down, catching Reeds eyes for a moment to give him a small smile.

After that, when you’d meet up after hours, he’d bring coffee and you’d pack the two of you something to eat as you both discovered that empty bellies and coffee don’t mix well. 

There were stolen glances here and there, especially when you’d sit in on his chemistry class. Small moments where he’d wink at you after saying a specific term as the two of you had come up with small inside jokes about specific topics when the hours got late and you both were running on fumes. 

Not only that- but there was a fog that settled over the two of you after the first two meetings called sexual tension. A fog that was heavy and in some ways smothering, as both of you clearly knew the other one felt the same way. However, something in you both held each other back from making any rushed decisions, both were too stubborn to act. 

You came into the auditorium where he was working through the same calculation for days now, damp from the rain that caught you on your way in on the one day you didn’t carry an umbrella. 

“Sorry I’m late, got stuck in the rain for a moment.” you chuckled lightly and said as you sat down into one of the front row seats, pulling out papers from your bag to start grading. 

Reed turned slightly to acknowledge your presence but eyes fixed on the chalkboard, “You know being late is ok, it’s not like I’m taking attendance with these meetings we have...” he chuckled under his breath. 

You smiled and looked up, “I know, but still, I’d like you to know that I do respect your time after all, Reed.” you said before pulling a hair clip out of your bag to tie your hair from being now damp and ruined from the rain. 

He didn’t hear his name come off your tongue very often as you still mostly referred to him as Mr. Richards or sir due to habit— but when his name does leave your lips, it commands his full attention. 

He turned his head around and saw you were damp, registering what you had said earlier, “Oh, you’re soaked! You must be freezing…” he grabbed his suit jacket from off the back of his chair and rushed over before putting it around your shoulders, attempting to warm you up. 

He could smell the shampoo from your hair when he put the jacket over your shoulders causing his feet to cement to the ground momentarily. 

You looked up at him, blushing at the immediate action to care for you was with him, “Reed…” you softly chuckled, “I’m damp, not soaked, but thank you, that’s very kind…” you smiled softly.

He lingered close to you for a moment, softly smiling and nodding as he never allowed himself to get too physically close, in fear he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back. 

You looked down and bit your bottom lip feeling the tension at an all-time high, your heart racing as you could smell the faint smell of his cologne from his jacket around your shoulders and then his aftershave due to the proximity.  

You slowly rose from the seat and brushed past him, walking towards the chalkboard, causing his knees to buckle as he got a small whiff of your perfume. 

“What’s this?” you tilted your head, attempting to decipher the calculations as you leaned up against the long desk that went from one end of the board to the other, crossing one leg over the other as you put most of your weight on that one foot and your hands planted to the desk. 

Reed had his hand against the desk you came from as he caught himself when his knees gave. He swallowed and cleared his throat, looking down at the ground trying to compose himself, “I’m attempting to prove the existence that there are multiple branches of the universe.” 

You pursed your lips and bit the inside of your cheek, “You mean like a… multiverse?” you questioned. 

He cleared his throat and tucked his hands in his pockets to keep himself at bay, “Exactly.” he began to walk towards where you were standing and stood next to you, “This has only been theorized but there’s math to support it… and to support a kind of… time travel which is what I’m trying to prove alongside its existence.” 

He turned around and saw the way you were standing against the desk and if it wasn’t for his stubbornness not to make the first move with a student, he would have taken you from behind right then and there. 

You turned and sat on the desk, slowly sliding yourself back as you looked up at him through your big eyelashes, humming somewhat sadly, “Trying to go elsewhere… different timeline, sir?�� you lightly ran your tongue between your lips, feeling them a bit chapped. 

He let out a shaky breath, watching your tongue dart between your lips, and then swallowed, looking down for a moment as he thought, ‘I am a man after all… and men can be weak, right? They can fall to their knees… fall to their knees and in between her thighs and be weak, yes?’ 

But then he snapped out of that thought when you called his name softly, he looked up and a small genuine chuckle came from him and made him smile to where his dimples showed and the small crow's feet near his eyes softly appeared. 

He shyly pushed some of his curls that had fallen on his forehead back, “No.. no, I wouldn’t dream of it…” and then turned his head back towards you and watched as your lips curled into a satisfied smile. 

“Good.” you softly nudge his arm with yours, “Can’t have you leavin’ me all alone to teach your classes, can we?” you joked. 

You chuckled with him and blushed when his hand accidentally brushed against yours after taking his other hand out of his pocket to lean against the desk as he chuckled. 

You both slowly stopped the chuckling and somewhat froze from the jolt of electricity that went up your hands throughout your body by the contact. 

Reed took one glance at your lips and you did the same to his before you breathlessly whispered, “Reed…I…”

Without a second thought, he was a moth to a flame, nodding, “I know…” before stepping closer to you, cupping your cheek with one hand, and pulling you towards him by grabbing your waist with the other, then connecting his lips with yours. 

He kissed you deeply and slowly, drinking you in like you were the last drop of water in a baron desert. 

Your hands came out from his suit jacket that you had over your shoulder to reach for him. One went for his chest while the other grabbed onto his tie and gently tugged him towards you as you continued to kiss him for what seemed like hours as it felt like time stopped the moment your lips connected. 

He pulled back from your lips and nudged your nose with his, softly panting, eyes closed, hoarsely whispering, "I... I wanna take you out for dinner before we..." he was stopped by your lips reconnecting with his, earning a soft groan from him and a soft moan from you. It also was followed by you spreading your legs for him to settle between which he quickly adjusted to. 

He could feel his heart beating quickly against his ribs, mind going a million miles a minute, and now that he was between your legs, blood was rushing to places he was trying to keep at bay. 

His hand moved down from your cheek to your thigh, which your skirt was now riding up due to your legs spreading, earning a groan from him against your lips. 

You pulled back and began kissing down his jaw and starting to lightly suck on his neck just above the collar of his button-down.  

He grunted and shut his eyes, whispering hoarsely, “F-fuck…” he swallowed as you moved your hand to tug at his trousers. 

However, before you could continue, you both pulled away in seconds as you heard footsteps and voices from outside of the auditorium signaling someone was coming in. You both were out of breath, lips were swollen, and obviously disheveled.  

You quickly got off his desk and went to sit in the seat you were at, keeping your head down as a small group of students walked down the steps toward Reed, who was now scribbling on the chalkboard, attempting to get rid of the obvious bulge in his pants before they made it to him, his chest heaving in panic. 

"Sorry to intrude on your evening, Professor, we just couldn't figure out this equation and needed some clarification." a young man said as he and a group of 3 other students came down to his desk, all from his chemistry class. 

You looked up to find him clearing his throat, “Yes, one moment…” he said softly, but his back still to the students. You could tell he wasn't able to turn around due to what had just transpired between you two, knowing what you briefly felt against your hand before you had to pull away. 

You stood and cleared your throat, tucking your hair behind your ears, "I think Professor Richards may have hit a groove in his calculations, why don't I take a look?" you smiled softly at the group. 

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief hearing you save his ass. He continued to softly scribble while listening to what you were telling them, enjoying whenever he could hear your voice, now dizzy on it.

They smiled knowing you were the teacher's aide and came over, showing you the paper which had an equation written out that Reed had assigned out yesterday at the end of the lecture. Below are their notes on how they calculated the result so far. 

They explained where they were having trouble, and you kindly had them all stand around you as you sat back in your seat and wrote out some examples of how to solve the problem without giving them the answer to Reed's assigned question. 

They all nodded, understanding where they were going wrong and how to proceed from there, and thanked you before taking their papers and walking back up the stairs, shutting the door behind them. 

You kept your eyes down but as soon as you heard the door latch closed you looked up to find Reed leaning against the desk, arms spread wide, eyes locked on you, grinning like a schoolboy, a curl falling onto his forehead, "Thank you for that..." he nodded his head up the stairs. 

You blushed and nodded, "Of course..." You cleared your throat softly and looked down at the paper you were grading shyly, "After all, it is my job to help out when those things happen, right?" you began marking up the paper with notes. 

He nodded, “Right.” 

He took a moment then looked down shyly, before he bit his bottom lip, stood up straight, and walked over to you, "I uh..." he cleared his throat and bit the inside of his cheek, "Dinner, you and me, tomorrow, I'll pick you up at 6." he stated, hands in his pockets. 

You continued writing on the paper, purposely avoiding eye contact, smirking to yourself, "Are you asking me to dinner or telling me, Professor?" 

He clenched his jaw and brushed his hand through his hair, smirking before crowding your space and putting his index finger and thumb on your chin to pull your gaze up to meet his. He cocked his eyebrow and licked his bottom lip, "If I'm going to continue what almost happened on that desk earlier… which I very much would enjoy doing to be very clear..." he leaned down slowly, lips inches away from yours, brushing his nose against yours softly, glancing down at your lips hungrily, then looked up into your eyes, "I'm going to take you out to a dinner on a proper date, first." 

You nodded, and your breathing became quick but quiet, that warmth between your thighs coming back again, your core clenching around nothing by the confidence he was exuding right now. 

You pursed your lips together for a moment and then repeated, "Dinner. Tomorrow. You and I. You'll pick me up at 6 pm..." you blushed and said barely above a whisper under his gaze.

“Good girl…” he gently kissed your nose then walked away, back to the chalkboard- leaving you speechless and blushing the deepest shade of red.

Next Chapter

taglist:  @sarahhxx03, @blahkateisdone, @sunnytuliptime, @pedroscurls, @docharleythegeekqueen @pedritosgirl2000 @fancyyoouu @greendudenumber7

[bouncybongfairy]

Hellooo Could I request for Felix Catton please? Where’s maybe Oliver is so obsessed with Felix’s girlfriend, the reader to the point where he killed her because “if I can’t have you, no one can” troupe and all and like then Felix witnessed it and all angsty sad thingy so sorry if’s dark but thank youu so muchh 🥰🥰✨💖

Till Death

Oliver Quick x Fem Reader

Summary: After you and Felix starting going out, Oliver began developing an unhealthy infatuation with you. Anytime someone laid their eyes or hands on you, it made him feral. One night at a party he finally caves in to his depraved urges.

Word Count: 3.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Stalking Kink, Blood Kink, Knife Kink, CNC Kink, Nasty Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was the beginning of the spring semester at Oxford University. Everyone seemed to be in a joyous mood, coming back from Christmas break completely decked out in mommy and daddy’s money. Grades are reset and all your friends are saying “I think a 7am lecture every Wednesday and Friday will be refreshing” or “I'm actually going to keep up with my canvas discussion questions this time around.” The best parties of the year are during spring semester, because everyone's stress levels are relatively low. Oliver was planning on heading to a house party with you and Felix. Both of you were friends before Felix and you got together so you two always invited him out when partying. Oliver always obliged in these invites but not for the sake of friendship. He liked keeping tabs on you, watching you get drunker and drunker. You were such a know it all in class, always raising your hand. Yearning to be a teacher's pet, going the extra mile to be the perfect student. Seeing you at night gave Oliver a high stronger than any bump he could take. Watching that innocent good girl facade fade away with the more wild you became after getting intoxicated drove him crazy. 

It made him furious when he saw the way Felix handled you, he was so sweet and gentle. It was so obvious that you craved a stronger hand. Wanting so badly for anyone to dominate and to remind you of your purpose. The way you flaunt your body around, practically begging to be shoved to the ground and taught how to act properly. Currently all three of you are getting ready in the dorm Felix and Oliver shared. You were in the bathroom leaning over the sink, your hips pressed against the edge. Your mouth was hanging open while applying mascara, Oliver was watching while making small talk with Felix. Who had his face buried deep in his closet looking for something to wear. Everytime you leaned closer to the mirror the oversize shirt you wore rose up, revealing your panty line. 

“Maybe just a polo, nothing too crazy,” he said, pulling out two options. 

“How much time before we go!” you called out from the bathroom.

“10 minutes!” Oliver replied. 

“Shit!” you gasped, rushing to finish. Felix was completely distracted, putting his shoes on and getting his things together. His phone went off every five seconds, after a while he finally went to see what all the buzz was about. 

“Fuck, Mason asked me to pick up a few bottles. Oliver, will you stay and walk with her and I'll meet the two of you there?” he asked. 

“Of course, see you there mate,” Oliver held back a scoff, Felix was such an idiot. Leaving you there for him to do… well, whatever he felt like. 

You kissed Felix goodbye and unraveled the hot rollers out of your hair. Fluffing it out before circling hairspray around it. Applying the last few touches like lip gloss and perfume. It was around 11pm and the weather outside was nippy. You being half dressed were feeling the effects of this quite viciously. The two of you were making small talk, mostly about the weather or school. Oliver didn’t give a fuck about what you were going on about. He was using it as an excuse to watch you, shiver and shake. The way your teeth were chattering together was driving him insane. The house wasn’t even a mile from campus but your heels were slowing the both of you down a bit. Like a wounded little animal hobbled by the wolf chasing it. This hummored him, thinking about how this would look if you were alone. The street lamps shining down, the light reflecting off your tan moisturized legs. Your lustrous jewelry also catches some of that light, practically calling wandering eyes to your body. Speaking of, your body was barely covered. Wearing a tube dress that barely covered your upper thighs. The material was cotton which meant it hugged you tightly. Fuck, he felt like he could see your goosebumps through it when he looked hard enough. He hated that Felix didn’t correct any of this. If you were his, he’d never let you walk about like that, any guy they passed had his eyes on you. Focusing in like you were their prey, it made his heart race. Bubbling with anger and jealousy, wanting to rip their throats out because he knew what they were thinking. Finally getting to the party, Felix was already a couple shots in, obviously his side quest went a bit off  the rails. Giving you a quick kiss before going back to entertaining ‘the boys’ who were quite sweet on him. Annoyed by the lack of attention, you poured an overly generous amount of liquor into your cup and headed into the living room. Where the speakers were blaring and a large group of people were dancing all together. 

Oliver sat on the couch, plastic cup in hand watching you. At first, your moves were more reserved. Keeping to yourself, dancing next to people rather than on them. As you suck down your liquor, your moves are becoming less modest. Now dancing against your friend, her manicured fingers gripping your hips. Oliver didn’t drink anything from his cup yet, he didn’t want to lose too much control over himself. Nor did he want anything to impair the focus he had on you. Sweat was starting to bead on your body and your dress was riding up. He liked noticing all these little things about you, the shift in your demeanor and attitude once you were drunk. Normally you were sweet-mannered and shy but when you were fucked up, you were more bratty and vulgar. Not afraid of acting out, practically screaming for someone to put you in check. He ripped his eyes off you and looked over into the kitchen. Seeing Felix down another shot, eyes practically drifted in two different directions. His girl who was way out of his league is half naked and drunk surrounded by wandering hands. He was so oblivious and stupid. Looking back your direction and his jaw dropped. You were standing right above him, hovering over where he was sitting on the couch. 

“Why don’t you ever dance?” you ask him. 

“Hmmm?” he asked, as if he didn’t hear you.

“Any time you come with us to a party, you never get like -hiccup- get crazy,” you say, sinking down to sit next to him. Now whispering in his ear whenever you spoke. 

“I do, I just pace myself,” he leaned in. 

“Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night,” you giggled, pulling a joint out from behind your ear. 

“You’re sparking up here?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow. 

“You gonna stop me?” you asked, smirking and lighting it. 

He felt all the blood in his brain rush down towards his dick. Almost lunging at you, like it was the perfect invitation to finally break you down. Your charm bracelet jingling everytime you bring it to your mouth for a drag. He chuckled to himself, remembering how just hours earlier you were eagerly raising your hand, hogging the attention from the teacher. Beaming every time she reaffirmed your answers, ‘amazingly accurate’ or ‘well done’ things like that that made you practically jump with joy. Now you were double fisting and practically sitting in your boyfriend’s mate’s lap. He was at his breaking point, feeling like his entire body was on fire. Like every atom and cell in his body was pushing him to take you. 

“Maybe we can get out of here? The air is starting to feel sticky,” Oliver says, standing up. 

“Oh of course! I was starting to feel the same way, especially after dancing,” you said, standing up and following him. Holding on to his belt loop, letting him lead you out of the house. 

Once the two of you finally got outside, your body was having a sublime reaction. Due to you being hot and sweaty, the cold weather outside was causing water vapor to come off your body. Oliver could feel his mouth salivating, watching you hands shake and you brought the joint to your mouth. You offered him a hit several times but he declined, enjoying watching you become high out of your mind. Making drunken conversation as you walked, digging into your purse and looking for your pen after the joint was smoked down to the crutch. It wasn’t until you started walking that you realized how fucked up you were. Even when you really try to keep your balance, you’d sway and wobble from time to time. Looking at your phone, checking the stats on your recent post. So preoccupied in your own little world that you didn’t notice Oliver was no longer with you. Dropping your phone into your purse and looking around, calling out to him. The street no longer looked safe and quaint. After standing there doing circles trying to locate him, you gave up and started the walk home. Or at least back to their dorm room. Clutching your purse and trying to fight through the pain your heels were giving you. 

Oliver was watching from about fifteen or twenty feet behind you. Seeing you look around with that unsure and scared expression on your face. Eyebrows furrowed and your eyes wide and glossy. Stumbling over your own feet as you walked around in circles looking for him: completely defenseless. You dropped your pen and bent down to get it, unknowingly exposing your backside to him. As you walked you kept pulling your dress down, the cold starting to get to you. He continued to follow, hiding in plain sight like in front of a parked car or mailbox. You were beginning to feel paranoid, hearing leafs crunching or being spooked by dogs barking. Pulling out your phone and ringing Oliver, frustration and uncertainty written all over your face. Amused and aroused by your fear, he would throw a pebble in your direction. It hit your heel and made you jump and fall onto the ground. The road did a number on your knees, both of them now bloody and dripping down your shin. Now crying, feeling overwhelmed and frightened. Oliver had to hide his smirk as he came over to ‘rescue’ you.

“Where did you go! I literally fell!” You cried, reaching out for him to help you up. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how we got separated- here let me carry you back yeah?” he asks with a sickeningly patronizing tone. 

“Really?” you asked even though he was already picking you up. His cock was throbbing while looking down on you. Mascara running down your face, teeth chattering and bleeding like a hurt little bunny. He carried you the rest of the way bridal style. Resting your head on his shoulder, complaining about your knees everyone in a while. It wasn’t long until the two of you finally made it back. He lets you stand up but once you put your weight on your legs you start wobbling, using him to support yourself. He grabs your forearm quite roughly and pulls you inside. You were confused as to why he was being a little aggressive but brush it off. Walking over to Felix’s bed and plopping down, finally taking your heels off. Oliver locked the door and jammed a chair underneath the doorknob. Taking notice of this, you start to question him, 

“How will Felix let himself in?” you ask. 

“Enough of that. Pretending you care about him,” he said, turning to face you. 

“I don’t- I care about him,” you say with a mix of defensiveness and disbelief.

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you’re in denial or just too prideful to accept it but you don’t care about him. You think he’s stupid and want more. It’s okay, just admit it,” he says, walking slowly towards you. 

“Why are you acting like this?” you asked, confused to where this was coming from. 

“Me acting like what? Calling you out on a fact? You’re one of those girls who likes to think she’s confident and calling the shots at all times. In reality all you really want is someone to turn your brain off. Take complete control over you and fuck you until you fall apart. Completely brain dead, only worry being when a cock is shoved in your stupid fucking throat,” he said. Tears stinging your eyes, and insecurity flooding your mind as he continued, 

“Would a girlfriend who cares about her boyfriend leave him at the party without even checking on him? Simply to go home early with his best friend to get fucked into the matress,” you said, now hovering above where you were sitting on the bed. 

“Not. True.” You said, crossing your arms. 

“No? So you wouldn’t mind if I see how wet you are? I have a feeling you’re soaking through your panties as we speak,” he said, getting on his knees. In your head you wanted to immediately reject him, but in your gut you didn’t want to stop him. It was true, you did want someone who was rougher with you. That’s not only aroused but not scared by the concept of hurting you. 

“I mean if you don’t want me to please, feel free to stop me,” he said, resting one hand on your knee and the other slowly sliding down your thigh towards your pussy. 

You felt like a whore, knowing that you should be stopping him. Shamefully justifying this betrayal with the fact that you haven’t had gratifying sex for a while. Felix was of course dominant and it wasn’t that he sucked at fucking or anything. It was just that he didn’t really understand the whole mental side of it. Also he didn’t want to hurt you. Whenever you made the suggestion of slapping you in the face or choking you a little past your limit, he got nervous. Never really doing these actions with full commitment. The tips of his fingers began to trace your slit, as predicted you’d completely soaked the lace material. Finding a weak spot in the lace material, he uses his fingers and rips a hole. You gasp and go to press your legs together; he moves his hands to your knees, stopping you from closing your legs. His hands were stinging the scraps, you grip onto his hair from both pain and pleasure. Ripping and pulling at the strands as hard as you can. Oliver kept looking up, watching your mouth hang open and the most pornographic moans slipping out. Pulling out the whore he knew you were deep down inside, feeling powerful knowing he was doing what Felix could never. Pulling his hair so damn hard was only building onto the pent up anger and jealousy he had over you. He pulled back, saliva and wetness dripping down his chin. Looking down at you, completely deranged and desperate.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. As you went to respond, he shoved his bloodied fingers into your mouth. Pressing your tongue down, pushing his digits down your throat. You gagged which caused him to laugh before continuing. 

“What was that?” he teased, becoming more aggressive. His index and pinky finger were pressed against your cheeks, his nails scratching you. 

Finally pulling out and smacking you with the same hand. Even though you were drunk and high off weed and adrenaline, that took you off guard. It burned and the fact that his hand was soaked in your saliva and blood felt embarrassing or humiliating; maybe a bit of both. It made you overwhelmed with turmoil. Something that should be so shameful left you wanting more. Longing for something more painful and intense. The rush and exhilaration of pushing the limits of your emotional and physical boundaries was like a drug you never had before. He grabbed your hair and forced you to the ground, onto your knees. You winced as you fell to the ground, eyebrows furrowing and a moan coming out of your mouth. 

“Aww does that hurt?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. Smacking his cock against your lips, smearing pre-cum over your mouth for a while.

“You deaf? Answer the fucking question,” he said, grabbing onto your hair with both hands. 

Feeling like this was a trick question, your instinct was to stay quiet. He yanked your hair, showing that he was becoming impatient with your stubbornness. When you open your mouth to answer, he shoves his cock down your throat. Being merciless with his pace, pounding into your mouth, having no regard for your feelings; and you were loving every second of it. Oliver was noticing you were finding a bit too much pleasure in this. Arching your back and rocking your head back and forth. Looking down he sees your hands on the floor supporting yourself. He steps on them, slowly putting more and more weight down and trapping you to the floor. Panic started to set in once you tried pulling your hands away and couldn't. He gathered most of your hair into one hand and used his other to cover your nose. Completely blocking your airway. Oliver watched your eyes widen and your face become beat red from a lack of oxygen. Every time you pulled at your hands or gagged around his cock he would twitch and moan. 

“Don’t pass out on me yet, be the good little slut you are and hold on a little longer,” he said, shaking your head by the nose when he noticed your eyes getting glossy and foggy. He finally pulled away, you were sucking in deep breaths. Slowly coming to and he picks you up and lets you fall on the bed. 

“Sorry love, I just needed you more pliable for what’s next,” he said, pulling out his pocket knife. 

He flips you over onto your knees, shoulders pressed against the mattress. Again, not having any regard for you, he shoves himself into your dripping cunt. Fucking into you slowly, you thought he was being gentle after how aggressive he was being. In reality he is scoping out a good place to carve his initials onto your ass. Using the tip of the blade to make the first mark, you screamed. Not expecting the sudden sting. The entire time he was creating a slit in your skin he would degrade and tease you. Acting sympathetic but really just getting off on owning and marking your body as his. Making you fear and worship him in the sickest way possible. The panic and fear in your scream going straight to his dick, not being able to control the erratic rhythm of his thrusts. He admired his initials becoming less legible due to the blood starting to cover it. He added a few random slash marks on the other ass check, just so the other cuts wouldn’t get lonely. Dropping the knife onto the floor and playing with your ass as he fucked into you. Spanking you causing the blood to fly around, onto your lower back and his face. Once he was done playing, he flipped you around onto your back. You looked smashed, like a hot fucking mess. Seeing how brain dead and broken you were was sending him off the edge. Wrapping his bloody hands around your neck as he came in you. Finally claiming your body, showing you the true purpose of your mouth and pussy. He got up and went to the bathroom to wash up. Smirking as he washed the blood off his face and body. Felix walked in, completely drunk and high out of his mind. On top of that, in shock from seeing your body on the bed, bruised and covered in blood. Screaming and crying attempting to wake you. In so much shock he didn’t even notice Oliver walk out, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Fucking idiot,” he scoffed.

[daisynik7]

you’re killing me with all this angst!! 😭 any possible unrequited but happy ending with Eren when you have the time and will? Or just anything fluffy really, just to put a dinosaur print bandaid on all the broken hearts 😭

🎶 You've got my heart bursting at the seams, maybe you're the boy of my dreams. 🎶

Title: Dream Boy

Pairing: jock!Eren x shy!reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

cw: unrequited crush, fluff, college au

Summary: You’ve had a crush on Eren Jaeger for a while now. He’s the captain of your university’s swim team who also happens to be a fellow engineering major, like you. For months, you’ve admired from afar, letting yourself daydream about being his girlfriend. But that’s all it is: fantasy. Until one day, when you’re invited to a beach outing with friends, and he happens to be there too. 

Author’s Notes: Thanks for the request, anon! Going with a common trope here, hope you don’t mind! I’ve always been a sucker for popular jock x shy nerd, so I hope you like this one! Also, fair warning, I have never surfed in my life, and I had to do some research on this, so major apologies if I got any of these details wrong, please don’t be mean to me LOL. Title is inspired by the song "Dream Boy" by Beach Bunny! Listen if you want to set the mood right. Divider credit to @/saradika.

With the weather getting warmer and the sun shining brighter, a trip to the beach sounds like the perfect idea to get away. Midterms just ended and finals are fast approaching in a few weeks. This is the only weekend when it makes sense to relax before you have to start the grind once more.  

It’s your roommate, Sasha, who originally plans this little weekend getaway. When you’re not too busy studying, you’re hanging out with her. She’s become your closest friend since you first lived with her freshman year, always friendly and making the effort to include you in all her social affairs, even when you decline so often. Through her, you met Mikasa and Annie, who have been nothing but kind to you, despite having strong personalities. You’re excited to get to know them even better by going on this trip with them.

With Annie’s car packed with all of your belongings, the four of you set out on the hour-long journey. Mikasa offered her parent’s beach house to stay at which works out perfectly for broke college students. Using your meal plans, you collectively purchased enough snacks and beverages to last the next two nights. So far, everything is working out swimmingly. 

You arrive to your destination, stoked to be spending the weekend with the beach as your backyard. Mikasa points out the other car parked in the driveway, groaning. “Oh no. Eren’s here. And he probably brought the rest of the boys.”

Sasha turns to face her. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“That’s his car. And those are their surfboards on the rack. They’re definitely here.”

Your roommate directs her question at you. “Are you okay with this?”

You smile, a little taken aback that you’ll be sharing a home with a few strangers, but fine overall. “Yeah, should be fun. By the way, who’s Eren?”

“Eren Jaeger, my brother.”

Upon hearing his full name, you do your best to swallow the strangled noise in your throat, playing it cool. Eren Jaeger? Captain of the school’s swim team? Fellow engineering student and your classmate for two of your current courses, three last semester? The guy you’ve had the hugest crush on since you first laid eyes on him freshmen year, when you used to live a floor above him? That Eren Jaeger? 

“Oh, cool,” you say, totally not meaning it. Still, you have to keep your composure. Knowing this information has you feeling self-conscious. You didn’t pack your best clothes, under the impression this was just a girl’s trip. And you realize that he might see you in your swimsuit, which you’re horrified about. Internally, you’re freaking out, unprepared for this recent development. You contemplate calling a taxi, faking an illness to avoid any possible embarrassment you’ll display in front of him. Before you can, Sasha drags you into the house, both your bags in hand, announcing your arrival. “Eren! We know you’re in here!”

Mikasa and Annie follow, carrying the rest of the luggage with them, inspecting the house. “Hey, Jaeger. Get out here,” Annie demands.

He strolls in from one of the hallways, hair down, in a white t-shirt and basketball shorts, slides on his feet. Looking as cool and attractive as ever. You hide behind Sasha, cheeks already hot. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks Mikasa, placing a hair tie between his lips, fingers running through his hair to put it up in a ponytail. 

“Carla and Grisha said I could use the house for the weekend. What are you doing here?”

“Brought the boys to surf and chill. I guess I should have asked Mom and Dad first.” He shrugs, unfazed.

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “You should have told me you were coming. I have guests.”

He glances at the rest of you. “So? It’s just Sasha and Annie. What’s the big deal?”

“My roommate’s here too!” Sasha mentions, stepping aside to reveal you. “And it’s weird sharing a house with boys!” 

You give him a small wave, a weak grin on your face. “Hello.”

He steps towards you, squinting as if he’s studying you carefully. “Hey! It’s you!”

You blurt out a confused, “Huh?”

He says your full name, shocking you further, before he continues. “You’re in my class. Physics and Materials Science, right?”

You’re surprised that he recognizes you, that he even knows your name. Up until this point, you were convinced that you were invisible to him. You nod, momentarily speechless when he smiles at you. “I’m sorry for showing up like this. We can leave if you want us to.”

“Yeah, maybe you should,” Annie comments, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Before anyone else can speak, you say, “It’s okay. You don’t have to leave.” If you’re going to grow up and move on from this crush, you can’t chicken out on things like this. And besides, you don’t want to be the one person who ruins all the fun. 

“Are you sure? It’s not a big deal. It’s just an hour drive. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. The more the merrier, right?”

He grins. “As long as you’re okay with this.”

Mikasa, on the other hand, says, “Well, what if I’m not okay with this.”

“Fine. Then you be the one to kick out Jean. He was really looking forward to surfing today.” At the mention of that name, Mikasa blushes, not responding. The rest of you girls have an idea about Mikasa’s crush on Jean, so it’s not surprising when she doesn’t pester Eren anymore. Even Annie’s eyes light up when Armin comes out of one of the rooms, greeting you. 

After settling in, everyone gathers in the living room, planning what to do next. Collectively, you agree to head outside to relax on the beach while the boys surf. You try to contain your excitement at seeing Eren in a skin-tight body suit, holding onto the giant board, hair tied in a messy bun like a male model for Billabong. 

You lay towels and blankets all around the sand, setting up umbrellas to block out the blistering sun. Annie dumps all the snacks in the middle, while the four of you stretch out comfortably. You hide yourself under a towel, self-conscious about in a bathing suit in front of Eren, who probably doesn’t notice anyways. 

Sasha plays music on her Bluetooth speaker while you and Mikasa open your books, reading. Annie watches a movie on her phone, headphones plugged in. An hour later, Eren comes running up from the shore, dripping with ocean water, hair matted, still gorgeous. He glances at you first, flashing his brilliant smile. “Hey, do you want to try?” He knocks his fist against the surfboard, waiting for your answer.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll be good at it. In fact, I think I’ll be very, very bad at it,” you admit.

“It’s okay. I can just show you how to sit on it. We won’t actually ride the big waves. You know how to swim, right?”

You nod, placing your book in your bag. This is too good of an opportunity to pass up, especially since it means quality time with him. However, you can’t help but feel nervous, expecting to make a fool of yourself. Sasha encourages you. “You should go try it! It’ll be fun.”

Mikasa adds, “Yeah, Eren is surprisingly a good teacher.”

Convinced, you stand up, hesitantly letting the towel fall to expose yourself in your swimsuit. You avoid his gaze, too flustered worrying about what he thinks of you. He leads the way to the shore, you following close behind him. The rest of the guys sit on the sand next to their boards, chatting. When they see you, they wave, giving you some motivating thumbs up. 

Eren turns to face you, pausing. “First, you have to attach the leash.” He squats down, hands near your foot, peering up at you. “Do you mind?”

Unaware of what the leash even is, you remain calm, trying to ignore your excitement with him this close to your bare skin. “Go ahead.”

He wraps the Velcro around your ankle, fingers brushing against you delicately. He readjusts it three times, asking on the third, “Is this too tight?���

“No,” you answer, still staring out towards the sea, unable to meet his gaze.

He stands back up to explain the basics of surfing. It’s all too much to retain in a short amount of time, but you listen and appreciate how well he describes each step, memorizing the most important details. 

“We should practice getting on the board first before we enter,” he suggests, placing it flat on the sand, beckoning you to get on it. “Just lay on it, face down, and get used to how it feels against your body.” You get down, pressing your stomach to the deck, gripping to the sides. 

“Good job.” He squats again, level with you. “Once we’re in the water, you’re gonna want to move fast. You have to push the board forward against the force of the waves, then quickly hop on. It might be a little tough, but I know you can do it. The waves are strong, so if you can’t get the timing right, make sure you lift your board up with the peak and hold on tight, so that you don’t get dragged with it.”

You nod, getting increasingly anxious. With the information locked in your brain, you follow Eren into the ocean, board floating steadily on the surface, your hand on the center. He isn’t exaggerating; the waves are intense, even the tiny ones close to shore. Once you are waist deep, Eren, who’s farther away from you now, turns up the volume of his voice louder, cupping one hand around his mouth, the other pointing to the incoming wave. “It’s coming!”

It approaches fast, almost too quickly. Before you know it, the force drags you backwards, falling in. Wet from head to toe now, you resurface, grabbing the board to reposition yourself, grasping both the tail and the deck, remembering his instructions from earlier. 

“Are you okay?” he yells out, concerned.

“Yeah!” you respond, preparing for the next one. With more determination and confidence, you push forward, hopping on successfully when the wave rushes in. 

“Great job!” he exclaims from behind you. Your chest swells with adrenaline and pride. There’s no time to waste as the next wave approaches. The next task is to straddle. You get in a push-up pose, grasping the side rails. It’s not enough though; it slides out from under you, knocking you back, a stream of salty water flushing your nose causing you to choke momentarily. Eren ruses over as fast as he can, waddling in the water, worried. “Are you okay?”

You laugh, an electrifying buzz coursing through your body. “Yeah! Let me try again.”

He smiles brightly, amused by your resolve. “Okay. Hold on really tight and make sure to slide the board slightly forward as you sit up.”

It takes you a couple more tries, salt water now burning your nose and throat, until you finally manage to straddle the board. You raise your fists in the air, turning your neck to face him. “I did it!”

Beaming, mimicking your celebratory gesture, he happily yells, “You did!” When the waves come, you and the board flow with it, bobbing up and down on the water. After minutes of struggling, covered in sweat, dripping with ocean water, you finally feel at peace. You enjoy riding a few more waves, dehydration slowly sinking in, surely from all the salt you’ve unintentionally swallowed. You glance at Eren, who’s watching you from a short distance away. “I think I’m good for the day! I need some water.”

He walks over, standing next to you. “Oh yeah, definitely. Great job, by the way. That was awesome seeing you like that.” He pats you gently on your knee, grinning. 

You giggle. “Thank you. So, uh, how do I get off this thing?”

“Well, this is going to the last thing I teach you, okay? You’re going to paddle out and towards the shore. Think you can do it?”

With whatever leftover determination you have, you nod, leaning your chest down to the board. He helps you readjust yourself so that you’re facing the sands. “The wave is coming! Get ready to paddle!”

Like a dog trying to swim, you flail your arms as if your life depends on it, successfully riding the wave until it comes to a stop on the shore. Armin, Connie, and Jean, witnessing this still sat in the same spot, cheer. When you stand up, your equilibrium is all off, losing balance. Luckily, Eren runs up to catch you, steadying you. “That was awesome. You did so good!”

Catching your breath, tired from all the physical exertion and adrenaline, you breathe out, “Thank you,” giving him a weak smile. The two of you walk to the rest of your friends, Eren’s hand on your back, in case you lose balance again. As you approach the girls, they applaud, beaming with joy. 

“That was epic!” Sasha exclaims, handing you a water bottle. 

Suddenly, he’s gripping your shoulders, squeezing affectionately. “She’s the best. Never gave up, totally committed.” He turns his head to look at you, voice lower, speaking directly to you. “You were really great out there. I mean it. I never doubted you for a second. You’re the smartest person in class, so I knew this would be a piece of cake for you.”  

His last statement almost leaves you speechless. Voice trembling from exhaustion and his kind words, you reply, “Thank you. You’re a really great teacher.”

He gazes at you, seemingly forever, sliding his hands down to your elbows, lingering for just a moment longer until he lets you go. Clearing his throat, he announces, “I’m going to catch a few more waves with the guys. I’ll see y’all later.” Is it your imagination or is there a slight blush on his cheeks? It’s most likely from the sun, so you disregard it, not wanting to get your hopes up. 

You spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing beside your friends, like you had originally planned. The novel you started earlier is open in your hands, your mind definitely not focused on the words. Instead, you daydream about Eren, relishing what just occurred. All those times in class, fantasizing about different scenarios with him, always convinced that nothing would ever happen. Now, you can’t help letting your imagination run rampant. Still, when you all pack up to take the short trip back to the house, you let those fantasies disappear. There’s no way he feels anything for you beyond friendship. And you’ll just have to live with that. 

Later in the night, with everyone sun-kissed and clean from beach residue, you collectively decide to get cozy in your pajamas. Mikasa ignites the fire pit out on the balcony, perfect for the cool breeze. When four boxes of pizza are delivered, the eight of you huddle around the flames, enjoying the meal as you laugh at the stories being shared. Connie tells a hilarious tale about him and Jean streaking in the dead of night for a dare that resulting in almost exposing themselves to the university’s president. Annie mentions her roommate, Hitch, and how she slapped a creeper at a frat party, who wouldn’t stop annoying her. Sasha asks for advice on how to approach her crush, Nicolo, the young chef at the campus cafeteria who makes her breakfast burritos especially tasty. 

After a while, Eren suggests, “How about some s’mores? I brought the ingredients to make them. What do you say?”

Everyone hums in agreement. He directs his attention to you. “Can you help me in the kitchen?”

You obliged, surprised that he chose you specifically. Following him, you slide the door closed, quiet inside the house except for the muffled voices of your friends outside. In the kitchen, he reaches up for one of the cabinets, grabbing two bags of marshmallows, two big bricks of chocolate, and a box of graham crackers. In another drawer, he retrieves metal sticks to roast the marshmallows. In the meantime, you search for a large baking tray, eventually retrieving it from the oven. “Maybe we can set everything up on here so that It’s easier.”

He smiles at you. “Good idea.”

At the counter, you start unwrapping the chocolate, breaking them into sectioned pieces. Eren does the same with the graham crackers, the two of you working beside each other in a comfortable silence. Halfway through, he asks, “Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun! Thank you again. I really had a blast.”

“I did too. It was a lot of fun hanging out with you today.”

“Maybe next time, I can actually learn how to surf for real,” you say, not thinking anything of it. 

He leans closer to you, arm brushing yours as you lay out the chocolate on the pan. “Yeah, next time.”

It’s silent again. You finish the chocolate, washing your hands clean to move on to the marshmallows. One bag in your hand, the other in Eren��s. “So, um, do you have a boyfriend or something?”

This catches you off guard. “No, I don’t.”

“Cool, cool, cool. I’m single too. In case you were wondering.” You’ve never heard this type of nervous energy in his voice before. It’s unusual to hear him like this. You’re unsure how to respond, unprepared for where this conversation is possibly heading. 

“Well, if you ever need someone to study with, I’m always available. The season is over, and I get tired of my teammates sometimes,” he says with a laugh.

“Do you want to study with me?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“I’d like to do a lot of things with you, actually.” There’s an undeniable blush on his cheeks as he pours the remaining marshmallows onto the tray. This can’t be just a sunburn, can it? 

Butterflies flutter in your belly. You look at him, smiling. You can’t chicken out now. Not when he’s giving you this chance, this opportunity. You need to go for it. “Can I be honest with you?”

He faces you, eager. “Of course.”

Sucking in a deep breath for this leap of faith, you confess. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you ever since freshman year.”

His smile widens, brilliant teeth on display. “What? When we used to live at Reiss?”

“You remember?” Your mouth hangs open, shocked that he recalls living in the same dorm as you. 

“Yeah, I do,” he answers. “You’re a hard one to forget.”

“I thought I was invisible.”

He shifts closer, tipping his head to meet your eyes. “Not to me.”

You face him, understanding that he’s always noticed you. He leans forward, lips inches from yours. “Can I be honest with you, too?” You nod, desperate to hear what he has to say.

Even closer now, lips grazing your ear, breath ticklish on your skin, he whispers, “I really like you. I’ve always been too nervous to do anything. I thought you’d only see me as a dumb jock.”

Immediately, you pull back, replying, “Never! I never thought that of you! I think you’re so smart.”

He laughs, eyes crinkled with admiration. “I think you’re so smart, too. And really, really cute.” 

You stare at each other for a moment, wishing this would last forever. Wanting to pinch yourself to confirm this is real. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” The pink hue on his cheeks gradually turns into a red.

A little too eager, you respond, “Yes!”, resulting in him giggling again, pressing his forehead to yours. The contact sets your skin on fire, body tingling with a different type of adrenaline than from earlier. With your eyes shut, you close the gap, lips brushing seamlessly into a delicate kiss. His hand slides behind your neck, sending you shivers as he pulls you in closer.

Suddenly, there’s loud banging on the sliding door, startling you two apart. Mikasa and Annie have their fists on the glass, yelling out something incoherent, Armin tugging on their sleeves in an attempt to stop them. Connie, Jean, and Sasha holler with huge grins on their faces. 

Eren laughs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you respond, smiling at him. 

You gaze at each other for another couple of seconds, cherishing this special moment before returning outside to your friends, carrying the goods. They all talk at once, hyped about what they just witnessed, berating you with loads of questions and advice. You and Eren sit beside each other, politely redirecting each inquiry and comment until your friends get tired of non-answers, eventually changing the subject. He lays out a warm blanket for the both of you, legs covered, knees touching while everyone begins to roast their marshmallows.

By the time the s’mores are completely assembled, mouths sticky and full of ooey-gooey sweetness, you and Eren munch on your treats happily, holding hands beneath the blanket. 

[therogueflame]

omg, what happened? :( if you're willing to share, we care about you!

it’s a little complicated, anon, so sit down and buckle up.

i graduated from college in december 2024, and from about march-october 2024 I had a crush on this guy. Let’s call him L.

Now, I’ve always been a bigger girl, and always had a hard time with romance. I started developing a light crush on him, no big deal. I didn’t see him a lot, and fast forward and summer rolls around and I essentially forget about him.

Then the fall semester starts (my last semester). Everything is going well, whatever, uneventful. A club i’m in hosts a fundraiser at a local brewery. I put on my LBD to host and whatever else.

The beer is flowing, I had some sips here and there, but I’m truly not a beer girly. L doesn’t know I have a crush on him at this point, but we’re talking more and I text him to ask him when he’s gonna be here.

He eventually shows up, and so do some of my other friends. Him and I get flirty, he stands really close to me, like if you saw us (which my other friends did), you’d think “yeah there’s definitely something there”, which my friends literally did.

Him and I make semi drunk plans to go see a movie, because at the time I hadn’t seen Deadpool and Wolverine yet.

We end up going, and he INVITES SOMEONE ELSE WITH US. Which is fine, bc I dearly love this person and they are amazing. Now during the time we are together (a couple of hours), hes kind of flirting with me, kind of not. I’m confused. Everyone’s confused. I ask our mutual friend after what they thought and they were like yeah he’s definitely flirting with you and they say they thought we had something going on.

So then, I end up confessing to him. He doesn’t feel the same way, fine okay whatever I’m an adult I can handle it. We keep being friends, he tells me about this other girl he likes, I DO A FUCKING TAROT READING FOR HIM ABOUT HER.

The rest of the semester goes on uneventful, we talk here and there, we’re both busy, again, whatever.

Fast forward to idk late Jan early Feb of this year, we match on tinder. My profile is hot okay, I’m just gonna say it. I immediately start bullying him (as friends do) and he’s like yeah let’s get together sometime i’ll let you know.

He never lets me know. He gets even busier, I get it, that’s how he’s always been.

On MONDAY, yes, this past Monday, I buy a bottle of tequila. Now i can’t fucking open this thing. I’m using towels, i’m using oven mitts, i’m using knives. I mean this thing is NOT budging. I consider going across the hall and asking my neighbor, but instead I call L. He texts back IMMEDIATELY. let me mention it’s like 10/1030 at night. He’s like yeah i’ll come over and i’m like okay cool great. Now i do put on nicer clothes, perfume, I haven’t seen him in maybe three months at this point.

He comes over, we talk. I do another tarot reading for him that starts out rough as fuck w the Tower. I can tell he’s sad, he’s so quiet. I’m sitting on the floor while he sits on the couch while I do this reading. He asks how I’ve been, and i joke that “i have no job and no boyfriend,” and he says “i wish i could do something to help, i can’t help with the job part,” and i don’t register it at the time.

We kind of argue jokingly about the fact that he only flirts with me when there’s alcohol involved, he said he’s thought about it sober too. He wasn’t drunk this night or at the movies like he was the night at the brewery.

He says he thought I called him for a booty call, and i’m confused bc like…we never talked about that. He insists he’s said yes at least once. Then he apologizes if i feel like he’s pressuring me. (I don’t feel like that at all)

The night goes on, and here’s an entire list of what happened.

searched for my hands & held them

• kept looking at my lips but didn’t kiss me

• touched me in non-sexual ways while cuddling

• I gave him a blowjob

• started a show with me

• let me look through his camera roll

• asked me, “what do you expect from me in this?”

• said “kinda” when I asked if he has a fear of being known

• said “well, I can’t help with the job part” after I joked about not having a job or boyfriend

• noticed the snake tattoo on my collarbone and asked, “you have another snake tattoo, right?”

• remembered that I have another snake tattoo, even though it’s on the lower part of my leg and not very obvious

• said “tattoos are always hot” after I confirmed I had another snake tattoo

• said “the thighs help”

• said “your boobs might win me over” when I showed him a past video of myself

• remembered multiple small things I’ve said before

• mentioned that he’s been sleeping on the couch instead of setting up his mattress

• offered to let me meet his dog

we talk about how we both want but don’t want relationships

he tells me everything that’s been going on

• liked my GroupMe message—the first message he’s interacted with in at least 6 months

• did not text me directly the next day but still engaged through GroupMe

He says he’ll come over again, it’s a good night. He leaves around 1.

The next two days, RADIO FUCKING SILENCE.

So i text him today. My birthday is on monday, he wants casual sex, i text him “birthday sex sunday? 🤭”

Hours later. Nothing. Then, finally.

“I’m unavailable, very busy next couple of weeks.”

and I just say “okay. i’ll be here if anything changes. :)”

and so now i’m just kinda ???

like did he lie? is he avoiding me? is he genuinely busy? why was he so cold?

I did reading after reading trying to gain some clarity, but it just made things more confusing.

So that’s what happened anon, and I am not sure what to make of this entire thing, though I unfortunately most likely already know the answer.

If anyone has any advice, that would be phenomenal.

[oceannote]

EMPIRE WAR - Introduction

Note from author: Hello my lovelies, hope you will enjoy this new and first series that I am writing. To give you a bit of an insight this is a story that plays mostly in the business corporate environment, but besides being a love story it is a friendship story and represents how we sometimes navigate life when we feel overwhelmed in our 20's. A lot will be going on and all I can say it is to grab your snacks and drinks and get ready because it will be a turmoil of a storyline. Warnings: Characthers are fake and are a result of fiction, mentions of bullying and lack of self confindence. ______________________________________________________________

Imagine this: You’re 18, fresh out of an elite Swiss boarding school, where even the vending machines probably have a wine list. You’re the only child of the Richardsons—a family so wealthy that saying your last name out loud is basically a cheat code for life. VIP access? Check. Designer bags? All of them. Your biggest stressor? Deciding whether to party in Paris or Milan this weekend.

But there’s one tiny problem.

You’ve been lying to your father—the Thomas Richardson—about getting into Harvard Business School. Yes, the Harvard. And with your imaginary first semester creeping up, reality slaps you harder than a Korean skincare routine: You’re not even on the waitlist.

Cue the most apocalyptic father-daughter showdown in history. I’m sobbing, mascara smudged like a raccoon, while my father’s voice reaches decibel levels that could shatter glass. He says I’m a disappointment, a spoiled brat, proof that giving a kid everything means they’ll appreciate nothing. And here’s the kicker: He wasn’t wrong.

Thomas Richardson wasn’t just born with a silver spoon—he probably had a platinum bib. At ten, he had a personal driver for his Bentley and went to school with royal heirs. But while teenage me was dodging responsibilities, 18-year-old Thomas was begging to work at Wonder Technologies, our family’s tech empire. And now? He’s punishing me for being… well, me.

His master plan? Uprooting us to my mom’s home country: South Korea.

For me, it was hell. For him, it was genius.

My mom, Soonja, is a powerhouse—a full-Korean queen who clawed her way from a humble farm to a prestigious UK scholarship, despite speaking about as much English as a K-pop song’s random rap verse. She raised me on two ironclad rules:

Invest in yourself. Find a man who worships the ground you walk on. Easier said than done, Mom.

So, there I was, 19 years old, tossed into the Business Strategy program at Seoul National University. My dad thought Korean culture’s discipline might break my wild spirit. Instead, I made friends, survived university, and, of course, developed a crush that turned my life into a K-drama gone wrong. Enter my bestie, Aurora Sinclair—a tall, blonde, blue-eyed German adopted by a Korean family at age three. She was the human equivalent of a confetti cannon, pulling together our girl squad: Me, Aurora, Han Nori, Jung Yuna, and Lee Hayeon.

We were a sight—two tall foreigners and three petite Korean girls, strutting through campus like the world’s most confusing girl group. The beauty standards were brutal. I spent four years battling my skin, my weight, and my inability to match Korean fashion’s “effortless” perfection.

And as if the universe needed a good laugh, I fell hard for him.

Jeon Jungkook.

The heir to KK Electronics, son of Soun Jeon, and a man so stunning he could make a mannequin self-conscious. His father had already announced Jungkook as the future CEO before the guy even set foot in his first lecture.

What started as a harmless crush turned into a full-blown, soul-destroying infatuation. I built our imaginary love story in my head, from meet-cute to “I do,” until reality decided to hit me with a plot twist.

At our end-of-year party, after downing more soju than legally advisable, I confessed my feelings. And Jungkook? He laughed.

Like, full-on, belly laugh. In front of his entire friend group.

And just in case I still had a shred of dignity left, he publicly friend-zoned me so hard that even Google Maps couldn’t find a way out.

And now? Well, I’m 26 years old, and—plot twist—I’m the CFO of Wonder Technologies.

Yeah, I gag a little every time I see my name on my office wall:

"Amelia Richardson, CFO."

The irony is delicious, isn’t it? The girl who couldn’t spell “business strategy” is now running a tech empire.

But here’s where things get even juicier. It’s not just that I work here—it’s who I work with.

After my confession disaster, our university friend groups split like a bad boy band breakup. Now, my company is a circus featuring:

Park Jimin: One of Jungkook’s besties, now an executive director at Wonder Technologies. He practically lives in my office, gossiping about celebrity scandals. He’s also dating my best friend, Yuna—our marketing director.

Min Yoongi: Another of Jungkook’s crew, head of sales, and my personal workplace menace. He’s secretly dating Aurora, but if you ask him, we all somehow have the IQ of a potato for not figuring it out.

And then, of course, there’s him.

Jeon Jungkook.

Now ruling his empire with his remaining Musketeers:

Kim Taehyung: CFO at KK Electronics, dating my friend Han Nori. At least her love story had a happy ending.

Kim Seokjin: Jungkook’s cousin and executive director.

Kim Namjoon: A board member who looks like he stepped out of a James Bond movie.

Jung Hoseok: The main glue of the group that keeps us from jumping at each other's throats 24/7.

Because this isn’t just a story about a boy who made me question my entire existence.

This is a saga of boardroom battles, high-stakes drama, broken hearts, and maybe—just maybe—some ridiculously romantic moments.

So grab your popcorn, hold onto your wine glass, and get ready.

Welcome to the Empire War.

[puppy-t337h]

EXULANSIS - I

GHOST X READER X SOAP (COLLEGE AU)

AO3 LINK - OTHER CHAPTERS

CW: DEPPRESSION, PTSD, RECREATIONAL DRUG USE, ALCOHOL, COLLEGE PARTIES, ONE NIGHT STAND, MAKING OUT, READER USES SHE/HER PRONOUNS, JEALOUSY, (ACCIDENTAL) HOMIE HOPPING

~~~

Douche.

Would be the word you would use to describe your next door neighbor.

You aren't one to hate people—not without first being provoked, at least. In fact, you usually actively went out of your way not to…hating people for things they said and did before their brain was even fully developed was always such a strange concept to you.

You had better things to do, anyway, than to spend time out of your day thinking about other people, most importantly unpleasant ones. Avoiding conflict like the plague got you through highschool and now—mostly—university. You were very protective of your quiet.

Moving day was the day you first met one of them. You didn't live in the dorms, instead opting for an apartment complex close by inhabited by many other senior students. It was quieter, and the rooms were bigger—the only downsides to it being rent and the commute you had to make back to campus for classes. They moved in the day after you did—and you only noticed after bringing home yet another box of belongings you had neglected in your car. It was late. You had procrastinated long enough.

Of course, he was in the hallway, moving his things into his apartment exactly twenty-three minutes before the semester began.

He was a brawny guy, slightly taller with a tasteful mohawk and kind eyes. Scottish. He was polite enough face-to-face; the kind of guy who was sensible on his own but seemed to lose ten I.Q. points whenever he was under the influence of his friends—carrying on in the hallway and moving four to five boxes like it was nothing. Broad arms corded with veins and littered with little scars…not that you were looking.

“Dropped this,” were the first two words he said to you, waving—to your complete horror—the bluejay stuffed animal you’ve had since you were ten. He had the biggest grin on his face, like he had just caught wind of one of his friends’ deepest, darkest secrets—and in some ways he had. A few other people on the floor turned to look at his declaration over their boxes as they navigated through the narrow hallway, drawn by his foreign accent. You were mortified for more reasons than one.

Immediately, his energy strikes a cord within you.  Something about his smile, his face, brings back memories that sting like hell.  Maybe that's why you hate him---because he reminds you of a past you can't go back to.  A person you can't go back to.

You swiped the stuffed animal from his grasp and stuffed it back into the massive box you balanced on your knee, muttering a strangled: “thanks.”

“Sure you don’t need any help?” Mohawk continues, padding after you a few steps. The request is genuine—you think—but it has that mocking undertone to it that sets off all the alarms in your brain that said he was, in fact, a total douche.

“No, thank you,” your back hits your apartment door and you kick it open with your foot, shuffling inside. “This is the last box.”

He stares after you for a moment, then shrugs and waves you off—opening the door across from you. He has something in his hand—a dog bowl, maybe—but not once does he shed that smug smile.

“Suit yourself, Birdie.” He says.

Birdie. The audacity of this guy.

For the first week or so, nights were peaceful. Or…close enough to it. School starts up as usual and, just like normal, you find yourself holed up in your apartment catching up on assignments you neglected to do until the last minute. The first month or so of school gets to you in that regard---too used to hearing voices of anothers in your space; a facet running, laptop typing, voices speaking. The lonliness is the worst part, you think, but the easiest to adjust to. Whatever angry God above must have heard your anxious thoughts about the quiet because, low and behold, that peace doesn't last long.

Your neighbors like to blast music. Loud. Why nobody else on the floor seems to complain about it is beyond you, but you can hear it loud and clear through the thin walls of your enclosure—shitty metal ringing muffled through the drywall.

Annoying, but not particularly malicious.

Since then, you've only caught glimpses of Mohawk and his roommate after the incident in the hallway; across the dining hall, carrying on at welcome week parties, and only occasionally in classes. Exchange students from Europe, some people say. Others say they're narcs of some kind. More say they don't even attend classes here at all and just show up for the frat scene every now and again which—honestly, would be believable. They’ve managed to wrack up quite the reputation across campus despite it only being a few weeks into the semester. Or, at least, Mohawk has...with blurry fights recorded on Snapchat and tales of hook-ups, flirting, and hilarious drunken rants from your more outgoing friends.

You’d pass Mohawk—or, more commonly known as Soap, for some reason—in the hallways sometimes or catch him in the elevator—occasionally with his roommate, who was an enigma. He stood a little taller than his Scottish friend with sandy hair, a stubble, and dark, concealing clothes. A hood was pulled over his head as he scrolled through his phone—a stark constrast to Soap who stuck to his usual t-shirt and shorts combo. You didn't realize the stranger caught you staring until your gaze raked up to meet his cold eyes already looking at you; piercing straight through your heart like a particularly sharp piece of ice. You immediately avert your gaze.

Fucking weirdo.

Halloween was the next time you had a substantial conversation with either of them—not that that day in the hallway or in the elevator could be considered substantial at all. You didn't initially plan on going out, but after a long-winded argument with a couple of your friends insisting that you take a break and live a little, finally, you cave. You need to let loose, anyway—feeling far too confined within your small apartment and seemingly endless statistics assignments. Maybe social interaction would help you get out of your funk.

Iota-omega-gamma something or other, the three symbols atop the giant house you're dragged to stare back at you as you clamber to the entrance. The inside is bustling with energy, Halloween costumes from niche internet references to the classic witch, vampire, and zombie catching your sight everywhere you look. You've gone a bit over the top—you will admit—with intricate skeleton makeup painted across your face and a tight black dress to boot.

You're a few drinks in whenever your friend group starts mingling with others, laughing and disappearing into the lights and the music and the people. The air stinks of today's beer and tomorrow's regret mixed with a tinge of marijuana that has long since made its home in the drywall; and you're tipsy and staggering to the backdoor. It's exaggerated, of course, all elbows and hands as you bump into your friends, laughing and talking over the noise as you look for somewhere quiet to regroup.

That's when you bump into him—quite literally. Chest to chest, your head hits the bottom of his chin, sending you reeling before his large, gloved hand grabs your wrist; steadying you. His drink spills, watered-down beer splashing against the floor.

"Sorry, sorry," you pull your hand free. Your gaze meets a shitty skull, painted over a balaclava. Grinning, you point to your own face. "Skeleton, right?"

He blinks—eyes piercing, familiar. His hand slides from your arm, noticeably shaky as he shoves it back into his pocket. His face is hidden, but the rest of him is ripped; in a tight black T-shirt and dark jeans, one arm blackened with a faded sleeve of tattoos.

"Ghost, actually," he corrects.

"But that's a skull."

"What about it?"

"Damn, sensitive," you huff, tilting your head at him as if that would help you see him better. Fidgeting, brow furrowed, eyes averting–-he's tense, for some reason, and with your latest psych assignment still fresh on your mind you recognize small signs of distress immediately. "You good?"

"Peachy," he mutters. His voice is gravelly and foreign—almost a growl—sticking out like a sore thumb against the music and the dancing and the laughing of your peers. He goes to shrug past with some lame excuse of: "just here for some friends."

You raise an eyebrow. "Some friends you got…ditching you at a party."

He sighs long and heavy, simply nodding before going to walk off towards the front door of the frat.

You don't know why, but you stop him.

"Wait," you grab his arm. "Let me buy you a drink."

He blinks, eyes narrowing.

"Why?" He draws out the word, his tone almost sounding suspicious of you—like he suspects you have ulterior motives.

"'Cause I spilled yours and bumped into you and I'll feel like shit if I don't replace it," you ramble, tugging him along before he has the chance to say otherwise. "C'mon. We'll find your friends."

Easily two-hundred pounds of muscle, he could pull free and you almost expect to lose him in the crowd—but he doesn't, letting you tug him along through the lights and the people for reasons unknown to you. He seems hesitant at first, resisting a little at before stumbling behind you; sticking out like a fish out of water in the sea of college students that surrounded you. The kitchen, thank God, is devoid of people other than the occasional student drifting in for another drink. For now, it's quiet, the sound of music and people slightly muffled from around the corner—and you swear your new acquaintance visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping and breath slowing, proving your theory right.

"Not a party person, Ghost?" You observe, plucking his cup from his hands again and turning to the counter. "People don't generally come to frats just to linger in corners."

He scoffs, "'Just got somewhere I'd rather be."

You hum, nodding. "Homework?"

He shrugs and crosses his arms indifferently as he leans back against the door. You feel his gaze on you as you turn away, and you don't think it's left once since you’ve met. You don’t think he realizes you can see his eyes through the skull mask and eyeblack. "Something like that."

You hum in acknowledgement, handing him his drink. "I was dragged here, too, if it's any consultation."

He hesitates, but takes it. "You don't seem too upset about that."

"I'm not. I needed a break," now it's your turn to shrug. You look away. "But, y'know, school comes first."

He huffs, loosening up more little by little as he lifts his mask up past his nose to take a long drink. You smile as he loosens up a bit.

"School comes first," he repeats, without an ounce of genuinity. It has you chuckling a little and, friends forgotten—you take to talking to the strange, gruff man you've encountered.

You learn a little about him. Like how he hates beer, and hates parties; but he believes they make eachother bearable. He’s from England; Manchester, to be more specific. An exchange student who needed a “change in scenery” and decided to travel abroad with a few buddies.

“So you came here?” You chuckle, “the middle of nowhere?”

“Wanted to be somewhere quiet.”

“Well, sure, but I highly doubt this school is on any program in fucking England of all places. Nobody goes here.”

He chuckles at that, for some reason; a low, rumbling sound that makes his broad shoulders bounce. He reaches over to grab his drink from the other end of the table and his sleeve rides up past the muscle in his arm. His pale skin is scarred to hell; with a few different kinds of scars dotting his thick arms.

Weird.

Everything about him is strange—contradictory. He hates parties and drinking, but he’s here anyway. He’s built like a brick wall but seems to tense every time he hears any sort of loud noise or anytime anything brushes his skin. His hands are calloused to hell. You couldn’t quite figure him out, but you think maybe that’s what draws you to him—the psych student in you absolutely fascinated.

Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Ghost doesn't seem happy you've latched onto him, but he allows you to drag him around just the same; returning your banter in a way that makes you grin. You think, maybe, he's doing it for the bit—you are matching, after all—but he makes no effort to shoo you away when you cling to his arm, and he stays close in the crowd; asshole friends forgotten. A few drinks in and you have him chuckling louder, steadying you when you lose your balance doing something dumb, talking, and joking like you've known each other for years—despite it only being an hour or two.

Finally, you’ve gotten him to loosen up.

Before long, you're both tired and you find yourself mingled into his group after he finally finds them again: a strange but charming combination of students including but not limited to another, friendlier Brit and—...oh, for fuck’s sake.

Your neighbor.

He's dressed as a zombie, you think. Honestly, he could be anything—shitty fake blood splattered across the front of a torn, white t-shirt and old jeans; quick and just as low-effort as his friend. The mohawk is messy and it looks as if Ghost took some of his eyeblack and smacked him with it; long lines drawn messily across his face.

"There he is!" The Scottsman slurs, nearly spilling his drink on his taller friend as he clumsily lays his arm across Ghost's shoulders. "'Thought you finally got tired of us."

"I did," Ghost grumbles. "But considering Gaz looks like someone fucking pepper sprayed 'em it looks like I'm on baby-sittin' duty instead."

Soap's eyes flicker to you as Ghost shrugs away your hold on his arm. The Scottsman grins, and suddenly it's you he's slouched against, and your heart jumps into your throat from the physical contact.

"See you've finally met Birdie, huh? Told ya' you'd enjoy it here if you gave it a chance."

"You!” you snap, shoving him away. "You’re the dick who keeps blasting music!"

"Aye! That isn't me! That's your fuckin' grim reaper friend over there---Jesus."

Ignoring his friend's jab, Ghost raises an eyebrow and turns to you as you wrestle with your opponent. "Birdie?"

"She's the lass I told you about," Soup juts a finger in your direction. "The neighbor with the bird stuffie."

Your face goes red. "Okay, douchebag, why don't you just announce it to the whole school since you're so fucking fascinated by it?"

Soap laughs, because of course he does. Loud, clear, and unapologetic---it strikes a nerve in you, lighting a familiar fire in your gut that makes anger coil in your chest, through no fault of his own. "Well…feisty. 'Gonna introduce me, Ghost?"

Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Ghost seems to shut down again—any ounce of playfulness you've forced out of him vanishes. He grunts, ducks away, grabs another shitty beer from a nearby cooler and flicks it open. He throws himself across the couch lazily before gesturing to Soap. "This pain in the arse is Johnny; Soap."

Then, he juts his thumb beside him where a rather confused-looking man with a baseball cap finally gets wind of the new person in the room, "Gaz."

Then himself;

"Ghost."

"Soap?" You repeat. "Fuck kind of a nickname is that?"

Gaz is the one who speaks up then. "It's 'cause he can clean out a room of armed hostiles faster than—"

"Thaaat's 'nough," Soap lays his hands steadily on your shoulders and you freeze up, slightly, as he guides you to sit with him and the others. He's inviting you to stay. Maybe it's the alcohol, but your cheeks feel warm and you hate how your stomach twists. “Ignore him. Video game talk.”

Grumbling, you stick with who you trust yourself with—sitting yourself next to Ghost who wordlessly passes you his beer to sip from.

If Ghost is tipsy and you’re drunk; Soap is wasted, stumbling over words, swearing, and giggling. You hate to admit it, but he’s a fun drunk—ditzy and crazy without being too out of control. Good looking, too, with a nice smile and a laugh that lights up the room. A smile that looks like his. Meanwhile, Gaz is perfectly content to linger, laughing at all the dumbassery the others pull with you—taking hits from a pen that sits on the side table every now and again and explaining a few inside jokes to you here and there.

Maybe they aren’t as insufferable as you thought.

The night continues on in a blur of lights and music. Your friends have left at this point, and you’re sure your makeup is smeared and your hair tousled—but you carry on anyway. You’re drunk. Wasted, even…irresponsible for the first time since being a teenager and the feeling is fantastic. You should probably take it up with your therapist—your habit of working yourself to death just to crash land into the ground in a flurry of lights and chaos, suddenly unable to do anything but chase that feeling of euphoria that comes with not caring.

You're too distracted to notice how late it is.

Too distracted to care about homework. Or class the next day.

Too distracted to notice how Ghost disappears. Too distracted to notice how the lines between past and present are blurring---and you're leaning a little too close to the Scottsman that reminds you of your late lover. Too distracted to realize that Soap has an arm around your waist, whispering to you, holding your drink, holding you—lifting you so easily up onto the back of a couch. Just as he always did. Soap smiles so bright up at you, and all your mind can see is his face; bright and happy and carefree---and you have to smile back.

You're too distracted to fully realize you never hated him---and that the cord of coiled self-hatred in your gut snaps as your resolve crumbles through your fingers.  You'll feel like shit for indulging in this later---in reliving memories where you were actually happy---but for now it felt like you were seventeen again, before you had to worry about a thing.

You realize how close you both are—giggling near a corner as he teases you with yet another beer. Your head spins with the static of the same alcohol you taste on Soap’s breath as he makes the same realization that you do; that all you had to do was lean in a little closer to kiss his lips. It’s almost like he can read your mind, because a smirk suddenly twitches onto those pretty lips of his as he stares up at you through his lashes. His strong arms tighten around the small of your waist. Warm. Secure. Just like he used to.

Suddenly, you see why he's the talk of the school.

“Careful, Birdie,” he whispers, suddenly stone sober as he smirks at you and God, do you want to wipe the grin off his stupid, douchey face.

You scoff and despite yourself---you're shamelessly looking at his lips. "Or what?"

"Or I might start thinkin' you want to kiss me."

“Do I?” You're still staring at his lips, tilting your head to feign cluelessness. "How do you know you don't just have something in your teeth?"

He chuckles, smiling. His fingers ghost your cheek and the other grazes against the bare skin of your thigh at his side—calloused, scarred hands gentle and feathery; but practically setting fire to everywhere they touch.

"I'll take my chances," he breathes against your lips—teasing, as he looks up at you, hazey and distant. His hand traces up the curve of your hip. "If you'll have me?"

Something in your stomach dips, and before you realize it fully, you’ve guided his face up to catch his lips in yours. It's soft, at first—gentle and hesitant, even—but your hands slide up his thick shoulders and the side of his neck and he seems to melt a little into the gesture.

The rumors are true, because he's good. His hand gropes your bare thigh, teasing at the edge of your dress as his breath gets heavier, pulling you off the back of the couch and out of the view of the public. He's rough, but attentive—breath fluttering across your face as he presses himself flush against your front. The button of his jeans catches the edge of your dress and his breath stutters with your own.

"Been thinking about this since the day ye' moved in, fuck…" He breathes near your ear, his accent and the alcohol making him damn near indecipherable as he presses kisses on that space behind your ear. You lean your head back against the wall with a sigh as his lips migrate down, past your jaw and down your neck.

"Since moving day?" You stammer dumbly.

"Since moving day," he confirms in a whisper.

God. So have you.

"If I do this…" You breathe, reaching up to grasp at the top of his mohawk as he nips your neck—earning a small grunt from him. "You stop blasting music at three in the damn morning."

"Deal," he doesn't hesitate, planting lazy kisses across your neck.

"My apartment or your's?"

"Mm…your's," he slurs. "Something tells me the roommate wouldn't be thrilled 'bout this. Only if you're sure, though, 'Cause if you're too drunk—"

"Jesus Christ, stop talking," you say, pulling him flush against you. Soap hisses at the contact, pressing his hips to meet yours as you kiss him once again—making him forget about the lights. The music. His friends…and whoever might be watching.

Across the room, Ghost's fist tightens around a can of shitty beer.

He watches his friend's hands grasp your waist, tight and sure of himself; hands calloused and rough from years of work and tan from the sun. He watches you smile into the kiss and he watches Soap bite your lip, your lipstick smeared on his face. The same lipstick still stuck to the edge of Ghost's can—gripped by pale hands littered with ugly scars and nailbeds raw from biting; hands a little too big to hold comfortably. He thinks about how soft the skin of your arm felt against the pads of his fingers, how you smiled at him the same way earlier…and God, does he miss being sure of himself. Being confident. He could take another man's life like it was nothing, but one smile and a kind gesture from a stranger and suddenly he's crushing a beer can in his fist—clumsy and unsure of himself.

Jealous.

Simon, for a long time, didn't think he was capable of the feeling. Not until recently. Not until the shift into civilian life had left his mind reeling and confused while his friends seemed to fit back into it like like an old glove. Simon didn't know people---didn't like them. He had never known peace before this, and it doesn't sit right with him.

He likes you because, he thinks, somehow…you carry that same feeling of restlessness with you—that feeling of displacement. A flicker of empathy in your gaze that tells him almost telepathically that you're not like the others. Clumsily navigating through life…running from something. Trying and failing time and time again to feel better—though nothing feels right.

How else could you have known he didn't want pity, just understanding?

He likes to think that's why you stuck by his side. He likes to think maybe you felt that same connection he did, that same solidarity. But, clearly, he was wrong—another thing that didn't used to happen before, but now has become the new normal.

Simon drops his can in the trash, shakes the foul liquid from his shaky hand, and leaves the party through the back door just as you and Soap leave through the front—giggling and stumbling your way back to the apartment complex.

[lostinthebrain]

Love Sky: Prapai and Sky novel.

I just finished reading this novel for the second time, and really, if you that are reading this now and haven't read Love Sky yet, I recommend you to do it right now. I just fell in love with Prapai and Sky all over again. Reading it for the second time just confirmed that they are my couple—a show and novel of comfort.

Are there reservations that I could have about that? None that would make a huge difference or that would be important. I think Mame did a really great job with the characters, how they were developed, their history together and their individual histories; everything was really well-made in my vision. At some point, I did think that I would write more about Sky and his parents, but at the same time, when I literally stopped to analyze it as a whole, I came to the conclusion that it made sense not to dive deeper into it. Sky was this lonely person, he loved his family, of course, but he was away from them for most of his life, so it wouldn't make sense to write more profoundly about them. If she did, it wouldn't fit in the whole context of the history, especially in Sky character, because it wouldn't really be our sweet but lonely boy anymore.

I think that my points would go toward the show, 'cuz after reading the novel, you start to think about how some parts could have added so much more and made the history of this couple even better. They would have caught much more attention and received much more love from the viewers.

A clear example of what I'm talking about is the ending of their main history. In the series, we get to see them on the balcony talking and having that sweet moment that we love, but in the novel, I think it's even better. Sky had his last assignment in his major for the semester, and besides Prapai offering his help, Sky didn't accept it, but he had a wonderful and cute reason. His professor asked them to make a model of a house where a big family would live, but when Sky made it, he did only think about him and Prapai living there together—not a big family, but just him and his faen, and he shows it to Prapai, telling him that he did think about the two of them together in this level. It was so sweet and so lovely that I almost burst with happiness. If they added it to the show, it would be sooooo good. OMG, it would make a huge difference and would be really them, that's it, it would be perfect in so much levels.

The other thing that I think they could have added is about Sky meeting Prapai parents right after they left the twin's garage when they made their relationship official. It was hilarious and cute at the same time because the Prapai family is so funny and lovely. And of course, the way Sky meets Prapai uncle and his idol. In the novel, we get to see Prapai jealousy, and it's so funny how he kept pouting about Sky being excited to know that his boyfriend's uncle is the same person who helped him through this tough time.

I think those are the three important things that I would have died to see, besides my silly self wishing to have a special episode for each couple individually and the one we have that contains both of the couples.

Leaving this apart, I just have to say that this was the first novel that I have read, and I'm certain that this will remain my favorite for the rest of my life, 'cuz it became a comfort thing to me and made me want to write again.

Their love and the way they have grown together have made me really happy. I cried together with them, I smiled, and I laughed. I did feel everything in a very intense way, and it was the best feeling ever. If one day I get to thank Mame for giving us this amazing couple, I obviously will. And now I'm crying while putting all this here, just because I felt emotional. I'm a joke, period.

Acabei de terminar de ler a novel pela segunda vez e, realmente, se você está lendo isso agora e ainda não leu Love Sky lhe recomendo que faça isso agora mesmo. Acabei de me apaixonar pelo Prapai e o Sky novamente. Ler pela segunda vez apenas confirmou que eles são meu casal, minha série e minha novel de conforto. Alguma ressalva que eu possa ter sobre isso? Nenhuma que faria uma grande diferença ou que fosse importante. Acho que a Mame fez um ótimo trabalho com os personagens, como eles foram desenvolvidos, sua história juntos e suas histórias individuais; tudo foi muito bem feito na minha visão. Em determinado momento pensei que ela pudesse ter escrito mais sobre Sky e seus pais, mas, ao mesmo tempo, quando parei para analisar na totalidade cheguei à conclusão de que fazia sentido não me aprofundar mais nisso. Sky era uma pessoa solitária, ele amava sua família, é claro, mas ele estava longe deles durante a maior parte de sua vida, então não faria sentido escrever mais profundamente sobre, se ela fizesse isso não se encaixaria em todo o contexto restante da história, especialmente no personagem de Sky, porque não seria mais nosso doce, mas solitário garoto então. Acho que meus pontos iriam para o show, porque após ler a novel, você começa a pensar em como algumas partes poderiam ter acrescentado muito mais e tornado a história desse casal ainda melhor. Eles teriam chamado muito mais atenção e recebido muito mais amor dos espectadores. Um exemplo claro do que estou falando é o final da história principal deles. Na série, nós os vemos na sacada conversando e tendo aquele momento doce que amamos, mas na novel, eu acho que é ainda melhor. Sky tinha sua última tarefa em sua especialização para o semestre, e mesmo que o Prapai oferecesse sua ajuda, o Sky não aceitou, mas ele tinha um motivo maravilhoso e fofo. O professor dele pediu que fizessem um modelo de uma casa onde uma grande família viveria, mas quando Sky fez, ele só pensou nele e no Prapai morando lá juntos e não uma grande família, só nele e em seu faen. Ele mostra para o Prapai, dizendo que ele pensou nos dois juntos neste nível. Foi tão fofo e tão adorável que eu quase explodi de felicidade. Se eles adicionassem isso ao show, seria tãããão bom. OMG, faria uma grande diferença e seria realmente eles, é isso, seria perfeito em tantos níveis que eu nem sei descrever direito. A outra coisa que acho que eles poderiam ter adicionado é sobre Sky conhecer os pais do Prapai logo depois que eles saíram da garagem dos gêmeos que é quando eles oficializaram seu relacionamento. Foi hilário e fofo ao mesmo tempo, porque a família Prapai é tão engraçada e adorável. E, claro, a maneira como Sky conhece o tio de Prapai e seu ídolo. No romance, vemos os ciúmes do Prapai e é tão engraçado como ele continuou fazendo beicinho sobre Sky estar animado em saber que o tio de seu namorado é a mesma pessoa que o ajudou a passar por aquele momento difícil. Acho que essas são as três coisas importantes que eu teria morrido para ver, além de eu mesma desejando ter um episódio especial para cada casal individualmente e o que temos que contém os dois casais. Deixando isso de lado, só tenho que dizer que este foi a primeira novel que li, e tenho certeza de que esta continuará sendo a minha favorita pelo resto da minha vida, porque se tornou uma coisa reconfortante para mim e me fez querer escrever novamente. O amor deles e a maneira como eles cresceram juntos me deixaram muito feliz. Chorei com eles, sorri e ri. Eu senti tudo de uma forma muito intensa e foi a melhor sensação de todas. Se um dia eu puder agradecer a Mame por nos dar esse casal incrível, obviamente o farei. E agora estou chorando enquanto coloco tudo isso aqui porque me senti emocionada. Sou uma piada, ponto final.

[forlorn-plushie]

Torn between "I shouldn't write an essay in the tags" and "these are ancillary thoughts that have nothing to do with the post"

The post was about STEM dudes falling for scams because they didn't learn basic rhetoric because they skipped and cheated through English classes. Specifically it mentioned college English classes, which I was convinced very briefly didn't exist - I forgot for a moment that I had tested out of mine by taking advanced HS literature (AP, for the US folks who know that acronym - I know there's an equivalent in Europe but I don't remember the name)

I remember that I took a good number of English-like courses in college. I was in the funny English Building, actually three fused together with uneven floors that were fun to navigate, quite often for a computer science kid.

I remember Essays, where two weeks of classes, something like seven hours, were overtaken by the class trying to explain asexuality to the teacher. The readings were short things, some pointed, others meandering. I like to write essays, in that style.

I remember Philosophy of Emotions, where we went over a half-dozen philosophers and developed our own theories and models. It was all talking. I loved those classes - where we all read a text, came in, and chatted about it for a while. I should have joined a book club so much sooner, when I write it out that's obviously something I'd vibe with.

I remember Linguistics, which taught me how to hold a conversation. I reference the maxims of conversation to this day. Learning about phonetics helped me with voice training later on. The whole thing fascinates me still. I love languages.

I started reminiscing about that AP class, the one that got me out of college English, where all but like seven people dropped out after the first semester, which got them their English 4 credit - they probably never intended to stick it out. The teacher seemed like a bitch, but she was fair and kind - just a bit of a coarse voice, a stringent affect, and a mean mug!

That second half was so much fun. We did first-read Shakespeare. Our analyses were our own. I wrote the 'exemplary' paper twice. We talked about lenses and the idea of literary analysis made sense for the first time in twelve years of schooling. At the end she read us "Oh the Places You'll Go" and I cried. At graduation my mom gifted me a copy of the book. She had no idea. I cried again. I don't think I ever introduced the two. They'd have got along well, I think.

I miss school. I really miss college, to get back to the original tangent. I miss my main duty being to learn things. I miss working on fun projects with other people.

Like, I had classes on Essays and American Religious Cults and Philosophy of Emotions and Celtic Mythology. They were FUN. Most of my professors were kind and interesting and I wish I was more myself at the time so I could have really been there. And so I could really chew out the one guy who had tenure and sucked in every way imaginable. Fuck that guy. I wish I could have made lasting connections with so many more folk.

Well, that's happened already. We've got places to go, now.

[thegoldenshi-shi]

Hello Shi-Shi! It’s been a while again (three months to be exact, my goodness,,) I hope you’re doing well. I was going to message a lot earlier, but some things came up and life got in the way again. How have you been? How was your Christmas?

Even though I’ve been more silent, I still look at your art a lot! I love your recent art, like the Happy Halloween drawing with Prowl and Jazz and Smokescreens drawing! Jazz looks so happy to be there while Prowls just along for the ride haha! In Smokescreens, I love his little smirk, he’s very pretty. I also love how you didn’t colour him, just his optics and the background, it really makes his optics pop and it just made the whole drawing more appealing! I love your art style so much Shi-Shi, it really is one of my favourites!!

Also, I understand your AI anxiety, not fully ofc, but slightly. I don’t like the idea of AI taking our art and putting it through programs and all of that jazz. I regret to say I’m not fully up to date on how it all works, but hopefully you feel better soon and AI stops using our art if that’s kinda how it works, I think?

For me, I’ve still been working, balancing school as well. Exams are coming up in around two weeks so I’ve been studying and preparing for them. I only have two, thankfully, next semester I have four exams, so two isn’t bad. I think I mentioned that I was going for my road test in my last message, and, well, I passed!! Perfect score as well, which I’m super proud of!

I’m not sure if I mentioned last message, but gun club has started again! I’ve moved onto kneeling from prone (prones laying down, you have to shoot certain scores and get badges to be able to move up if that makes sense) its a little difficult but challenges are good sometimes.

I’ve also, completely off topic (most of this message is just me bouncing around going off topic trying to remember all that’s happened in these past few months, but we ignore that lol) I got into a new fandom! It’s a fandom I’ve been in before, My Hero Academia, so I’m familiar with it, but my liking of it came back around two weeks ago. I know you like Transformers, Genshin Impact and Twisted Wonderland, but is there any other fandoms you enjoy?

A recent development! I’m sure I’ve mentioned I’m in Firefighter cadets, I’m not actually sure though, we’ve been chatting for a long time I sometimes forget what I’ve told you and what I haven’t. But a few days ago, a few others and I got promoted to Junior Firefighters! A cadet just goes to the trainings on certain days, learning new and basic things, etc, but as a Junior Firefighter, I can go on actual calls and emergencies. Of course, I won’t be able to deal with the most serious things that a fully trained Firefighter would, but we’ll be there and observing the things we can and helping out when we can too, which I find really exciting!

I better get some sleep, especially as calls for Firefighting can happen at any point and I have to make sure I’m up and running out the door, to make sure I’m not just completely exhausted lol. I’m so sorry for not messaging as much, and I hope to talk more Shi-Shi! I hope you have a good day/night and I’ll talk to you soon!

-Meister

Hello Meister~ It's wonderful to hear from you! I was beginning to wonder how you were doing.

You've got a lot going on as per usual I see, but you've also accomplished so much! Congratulations on a perfect road test, moving up in your gun club and getting promoted (is that the right term???) to a Junior Firefighter~ That's a long list of accomplishments for just three months, you should be proud.

I've been well, Christmas and New Years were small but really nice (I hope you had a good holiday season too). I had time to unwind and recover from 2024 hehe. I'm glad that you like my newer pieces! Cute pictures are always lots of fun so I really loved working on the Halloween picture. Getting the color palette right for that one was a nice challenge too. I've been doing a lot of art studies behind the scenes and the Smokescreen picture is the product of some of that work. I did a little wiggle when I read your feedback, I'm always so grateful for it.

Just like you I've been lurking around tumblr lately. Lots of art is happening, but nothing actually being posted. It's slow going, but I'm creeping out of the AI anxiety, and I'm feeling a lot better now. Thank you for thinking about me.

As for fandoms, I completely get bouncing to new fandoms or back into old ones. I am a huge enjoyer of things in general so I've been around the block with lurking around in fandoms lol

I walked around in the My Hero Academia fandom for a short while a few years ago, so I'm familiar with it but it's been a while since I actually peeked at it. I remember really enjoying All Might, Fatgum and Suneater (all guys for some reason? I just noticed).

So far as other fandoms I'm actively in…let me think…. I usually fall head-over-heels over some random thing that has 0 fandom and I'm left rolling on my floor with nobody to share my feels with. OR I poke like two content creators and don't interact with the fandom at all outside of that lol. I guess I'll say the King Arthur and Tolkien fandoms are other ones I find myself in the most (I troll the Star Trek fandom for memes, does that count?) But I don't create content for either fandom, so I don't know if they count or not? I used to move in the Gargoyles fandom when I was around 13 on DeviantArt with only a sharpie and a mechanical pencil to my name, but that's been ages ago lol

It was so good to hear from you again Meister! I hope you have a good day/night and I look forward to seeing you in my inbox again~

[knavearcade]

November 2024 Oracle Cards for Each Human Design Energy Type

If you’re like me, this past month has felt very long in a hazy, restless kind of way. Based on these cards, next month wants us to take some time to process what’s transpired so that we can use it to make December better than the whole year’s been. There’s a “footnote” kind of energy I’m getting and I think that’s primarily because Pluto will finally leave Capricorn for the last time. Since 2008, it’s mostly been in that sign, save for most of this year (Pluto went into Aquarius on January 20th and then retrograded back into Capricorn on September 1st). While the specific area of your chart will tell you what that’s meant for you personally, as a whole, we’ve been grappling with our concepts of work ethic, hustle culture, and the gig economy. How has that affected you? Who were you prior to 2008 and who are you today?

We are entering uncharted territories and that can be seen with the cards I’ve chosen for the month. The illustrated herbal cards come from the Apothecary Spirits Oracle, which is a beautiful deck that was just released a few months ago! It’s quickly become a new favorite!

As for the square, collage-style cards… they are actually from my upcoming oracle deck! The Refract & Reflect Oracle is still a work in progress and if you like what you see, I need your help to make it a reality! I have bills and other expenses to prioritize before I can get another prototype made, so now more than ever, every dollar made from booking a reading or leaving a tip means a whole helluva lot. 

~~

Generators

Nocturnes & Gardening Tools

Even though they say the veil is thinnest towards the end of October, you can always develop your magick. Generators, you’ll benefit from doing inventory on the routines that work for you in terms of getting things done and making things happen. What healing modalities have helped keep your mind clear and body energized? Is it time to book a therapy session or perhaps find a new therapist entirely? Have you ever tried the Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT aka “tapping”)? November is a month for you to fine-tune what tools are in your toolkit; sharpen, replace, and donate as needed.

~~

Manifesting Generators

Softness & Passionflower

Getting ahead doesn’t always require a forceful hand or putting the pedal to the metal. Sometimes, all you need is a gentle touch, a little lightness on your feet, or a clear head after a good night’s sleep. For many of us, the end of the year gets very hectic with family gatherings, business deadlines, and the end of the school semester, and we try to go full-speed ahead. But instead of trying to push through and get everything done on nothing but three cups of coffee and two hours of sleep (on and off, of course), I invite you to rethink your task list and give yourself some grace. Pay attention to where you’re running on auto-pilot because that’s simply the way it’s always been this time of year. But what can be approached with more ease? What do you truly need to attend to? What can you release?

~~

Projectors

Illuminate & Darling River Rose

This month, Projectors, I invite you to remember all the ways you’ve grown. I invite you to remember what you’ve realized about yourself, your truths, and your capabilities. As we near the end of the year, how have you changed? It’s so difficult for us to see ourselves as well as we can see others, but it’s so beneficial when we can. Take some time this month for introspective work and don’t be afraid to broaden the scope of your trajectory. Who were you at the beginning of the year? What were your goals and hopes? What about five years ago? What about 15? If you have the opportunity, look at old photo albums, playlists, journals, and anything else that you can get your hands on.

~~

Manifestors

Cleanse & Juniper

This November is a good month to clear your physical, emotional, and energetic spaces. There are some big revelations and ideas that are eager to make their way to you, but the paths are a little crowded or murky. Spending time on both literal and metaphysical cleansing practices will prime you for whatever comes next. This can be as simple as carving time out for ritual baths, clearing out the photos on your phone (at least back them up, Mercury Retrograde is coming up on the 25th btw), or vacuuming the cobwebs in your home. It can also look like lighting herbs (I love rosemary), playing good music, and visualizing all your anxieties melting off your body and sinking into the earth.

~~

Reflectors

Stories & Nettle

It’s bitter medicine, but heartbreak always teaches us something new, right? For many of us, November (and the end of the year in general) can bring up a lot of sore spots, especially in the realm of relationships and family. If you find yourself revisiting a lot of hurt, try to look at things from different perspectives. Put yourself in the other person’s shoes or try to think of how an outsider would see things. And don’t forget about the scope of the timeline. In a longer trajectory, how did things turn for you or anyone involved? You don’t have to do any of this on your own either, talking it out with a trusted confidant or therapist can lead to some breakthroughs in the patterns you may have been holding onto.

~~

If you like what you’re seeing of the Refract & Reflect Oracle, I’ll be sharing more of the cards and the process on my Ko-Fi membership site! Thank you!

[askrena]

#ASKRENA: an affiliated sharena rp blog, summoned by mik (20, they/them, gmt +8). fighting for lasting peace with love as our spear. rules and portrayal notes may be found under the cut!

RULES

ON AFFILIATION: this blog is affiliated with the officers academy. as such, personal blogs and rp blogs not affiliated with toa will be softblocked or blocked.

ON SHIPPING: not prioritizing it at the moment!

ON FORMATTING: i use small text with icons in my writing. if you have any issues with readability or would like me to change my format, please let me know! as for my personal preference: i would prefer it if my partners could use small text in their replies so i can read it more easily <3

ON OOC CONTACT: as tumblr’s IMs have been acting up recently (for me at least) i prefer discord dms. my username is emblian! i am part of toa’s discord server so you may also ping me there. i will let you all know now that, while i have grown more comfortable speaking with others ooc, i am still prone to bouts of anxiety and may pull back at any given moment. please don’t take this personally! i may just need some space and time to get myself together.

ON REPLIES: my schedule has gotten considerably less free since i’m starting my semester so expect me to take anywhere from a week to a month to reply. i’ll do my best to avoid having my partners wait for too long, of course, but i just want to be clear just in case you think i might be ghosting you or forgetting our thread. though that’s not out of the question—i’m also a pretty forgetful person, so feel free to ping me if you feel that may be the case!

ON TRIGGER WARNINGS: i will use general trigger warnings for things such as gore, extreme violence, suicide, and other topics that i deem sensitive enough to warrant it. i will be using “tw // (word)” as a tag. if you have any triggers you’d like me to tag, please feel free to let me know through a dm. i also tag spoilers under “spoilers” but… for a series this old, i don’t know what else there is to spoil JDFNLKDSJFG

ON OTHER FIRE EMBLEM GAMES: i am most familiar with three houses, thracia, heroes, and awakening but have a general grasp on most of the other games. it can only take me so far, though. for games/characters i’m not too familiar with, i hope you don’t mind if i ask questions!

PORTRAYAL NOTES  (SPOILER FREE)

sharena is a returning student: muses who knew her from before may still know her now and vice versa. she has brought along alfonse this time around!

as a member of the order of heroes (and author of meet the heroes) sharena is familiar with a large number of the fire emblem cast, regardless of whether or not she's actually met them in the academy. of course, she knows that they are different from their summoned versions here, and won't bring it up, but she will recognize several of the students here despite being strangers.

this sharena is taken after book 7 but before book 8 begins. she will remain this way until a month after book 8 ends. this is just to ensure that her portrayal remains consistent and is not constantly updating every month (though, let's face it... sharena hasn't had much meaningful development these past few books... sob sobs)

[deermouth]

Hmm. Feeling like I should maybe revisit my bachelor's thesis and make it into something real.

Did I ever share everything that happened during my last semester thesis class here?

I was pursuing a magna cum laude thesis, which along with cum laude—unlike summa—was embedded in a non-honors course, with the expectation that students would work with the professor to develop individualized standards for what would qualify their work as deserving of honors. I chose to do a creative writing thesis as opposed to a literature studies paper, and settled on a poetry course, one which met every Monday evening for three hours.

I didn't find my advisor particularly helpful/insightful or my peers' work especially engaging, but I figured it'd be a good learning experience for me and that maybe I needed to broaden my horizons.

Except my professor had Parkinson's, which of course I'm sympathetic to, but he ended up having to cancel almost half our classes due to health reasons. One cancelation every other week wouldn't have been so bad in a normal course schedule, but again, this class only met once a week. We turned in our rough drafts in mid October, and... never got them back. I was emailing this man at least once a week asking questions, asking when we could meet to discuss summa honors standards, asking when we would get our drafts back. Often he would give a yes or no answer to a question that was not yes/no, if he responded at all.

Admittedly, I did wait til early December to go to my advisor about this, but when I did, she went to the English department head with my anonymous concerns. The professor ended up sending us a really weird email that was like "Guess I need to retire... really wish whoever this was had approached me directly" (I had tried, desperately).

I never received feedback on any draft of my thesis but the final, where he just said I was talented and had earned honors. I ended up scrawling out like 4 extra poems in a week to qualify for summa.

It's a shame, bc my manuscript was a concept piece, where all the poems were in some way about a genderweird queer girl and the time-traveling murderous demon named Urishiol (that's the oil in poison ivy) who was possessing her. The chronologic form was heavily inspired by Gillian Conoley's The Plot Genie. The concept is still very dear to me, and I'm sure the actual writing is all rubbish—have barely looked at it since I turned it in.

I basically stopped writing poetry after that because I was so demoralized. I do want to start again...

[once-upon-a-pirate-ship]

Emma Swan versus Packing Tape

read my new (short) college au on AO3 here!

or, read it below the cut.

summary: As Emma and the gang near the end of their senior year, her roommate Ruby pushes her towards one last setup (you know exactly who it is)

rated T for language only

1.5k words

you can find my other works on AO3 here.

to people who want to be on my tag list: I'm so sorry but I don't yet have the energy to rejoin the discord and make that list and tack it on here...please forgive me and I'll work on that for next time

Packing tape was quickly becoming Emma’s nemesis. No matter how many angles she tried, she couldn’t get the stupid metal teeth to slice the tape correctly, and every attempt was met with the irritated screech of the roll. 

A groan escaped her lips as she was once again forced to surrender to the scissors, and after flattening the piece against the cardboard, she dropped the tape gun onto the floor. It made a dull thud when it landed on the shitty carpet she still had to clean. 

“Geez, what’d that tape ever do to you?” Ruby asked.

Emma flinched at the unexpected noise, turning to find her roommate staring at her teasingly, her arms folded over her chest and her eyebrows raised. 

“I thought you were at Belle’s,” Emma said as she returned her attention to the now closed box, moving it onto the stack to her right. 

“I’m happy to see you, too.”

Emma rolled her eyes, suppressing a sigh and instead bending to pick up the stupid tape gun. “I’ve just got a lot left to do,” she said, glancing around to find the next box that needed to be filled and taped up. 

“Three boxes, Emma. That’s, like, fifteen minutes. Tops.”

“I have reorganizing to do, Ruby,” Emma replied. 

Ruby crossed to sit on the arm of the couch. “I don’t see why you can’t come to the party with us.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds like a blast. Third wheeling—until you two ditch me to go make out in some frat boy’s room.”

“We wouldn’t do that,” Ruby said. Emma shot her a glare, and Ruby added, “Again.”

“I’m good here, I promise. And besides, I was over the whole ‘college party’ scene like two months ago.”

Ruby released a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Come on, Emma. One last hoorah. David and Mary Margaret will be there, and I know they won’t ditch you to go make out.”

“No, they’ll just gaze wistfully at each other while I stand there feeling ill.” 

“You say that like it’s a new development.”

Emma kept her eyes on the books she filed into the box, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I’ll be just fine, Ruby. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“We graduate in two days, and then we’ll all be in different places doing different things—grad schools and internships and full-time jobs, and then I won’t have time to worry about you anymore. Let me be pushy and concerned this one last time.”

Emma paused, her fingertip grazing against the glossy book jacket of her favorite novel. Her eyes flickered up to Ruby. “What’s the real reason you’re pushing me on this?”

Ruby shrugged, but it wasn’t nearly as casual as it should’ve been. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Emma snarled. “Really? Again?”

“Emma,” she pleaded. 

“No. No way. I told you last semester, Ruby. No more setups. No more perfectly engineered meet-cutes. I won’t allow it.”

“Last one, Emma, I swear. Then I’ll leave you to your singledom for the rest of eternity. Please?”

Emma glowered at her, though it did nothing to soften the intensity of the pleading eyes Ruby stared at her with. “No way.” She shook her head.

“Please?”

Emma’s jaw clenched, and she let her hand drop from the box. She forced her arms to lock over her chest. “No.”

“Please,” Ruby said firmly.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Other than the possibility of fantastic sex?”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “Ruby,” she snapped. 

“Twenty bucks?”

“You’re so cheap.”

Ruby groaned. “I’m so broke right now, Emma. Fine, okay, I’ll get Belle to bake you those cookies you love so much.”

Emma despised herself for how much that made her pause. “Snickerdoodles?”

“Two batches.”

“Fine.”

“Really?”

Emma was going to get a headache if she kept glaring like this. “Ruby. Don’t push it.”

Her roommate jumped up, bouncing a little as a wide grin spread across her face. “Yes! Okay. I promise you won’t regret this. It’s gonna be so great. Really.”

“If it sucks, I’m still making you give me twenty bucks.”

“And when it’s magical, you can give me twenty bucks.”

Emma’s eyebrow shot up. “What makes you so confident about this one?” 

Ruby shrugged. “I dunno. Just a feeling. I don’t actually know him that well. He’s a friend of Belle’s.”

Emma hummed with the slightest bit of interest, turning back to the box she’d stopped packing. “I gotta finish this if you want me to go out with you guys tonight.”

“Of course,” Ruby replied, slipping around the mini-maze of boxes and heading for the door. 

“Oh, and Ruby?”

“Yeah?”

Emma didn’t look up when she added, “No way in hell are you picking my outfit for this thing. Don’t even try. Consider yourself lucky that I even agreed to go in the first place.”

“But you’re just gonna wear jeans and your red jacket!”

“I sure am. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

-

She couldn’t believe she let herself get dragged into this, cookies be damned. 

She’d never been anti-party, per se, but she’d always been fairly anti-people—particularly when they were obnoxious frat boys who never seemed considerate of people’s personal space even when they weren’t completely drunk. 

Ruby and Belle had made themselves scarce before the end of the first song, but as expected, David and Mary Margaret refused to abandon her, too. 

“He’s late,” David grumbled, looking resentfully at his beer. 

Mary Margaret gave him an admonishing look, a hand coming to pat his arm. “This is hardly a dinner date, David. I think we can cut him some slack for not being punctual to an event with a keg or three.”

David grumbled again, this time emitting a sound that sounded somewhat like “fine.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Look, guys, I don’t need a babysitter. Go, have fun.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said.

“We’re not leaving you,” David added, nearly scoffing at the idea. 

Emma took a swig of her beer, knowing that further encouragement would be futile. It took her twenty minutes to give them the slip, which wasn’t her finest work but not her worst, either. She’d had a lot of practice these last few years. 

The wrap-around porch was littered with cans and bottles, but at least it was relatively quiet, enough so that Emma could lean against the rail and relax for the first time that night. She reached up a hand to message at her stiff shoulder—from tensing for an hour straight or from packing all of those boxes, maybe both—and she huffed out a breath, willing her mind to settle. 

Her irritation with her friends was so petty at this point in her life, with only a handful of days left before everything changed forever—who knew when they’d all get to see each other again, when jobs and money and time and life didn’t get in the way, but it was impossible for her to stamp out the frustration she felt because her friends didn’t always understand. They meant well, of course they did, but they were so reliant on their own worlds, their own experiences, so how could she possibly expect them to step outside of their own perspectives and imagine hers? 

A not-so-subtle creak startled her from her thoughts, and she wheeled around to face the figure who’d been the culprit. “Sorry, love,” the accented voice called, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Emma’s hand still gripped the porch railing as she watched him move closer somewhat hesitantly. Once he stepped out of the shadows and into the glow cast from the window, she watched him watch her, his gaze studying her, waiting for signs of rejection or any other indication that he shouldn’t cross to stand beside her.

“Is the party that bad?” he asked, a teasing smile curving his lips. “I’d planned to be here an hour ago, though perhaps the delay was a sign I should not have ignored.”

“The party is…” she trailed off, less than enthusiastic. 

“A travesty?”

“Typical,” she amended. 

He chuckled softly, his hand sweeping over the scruff on his chin. “A travesty, indeed,” he said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come.”

“Why did you?”

A dark eyebrow shot up, and she didn’t miss the glint in his stormy blue eyes. “I was meant to meet a lass.”

“A lass?” she repeated, wrinkling her nose.

“I’m British, love. We can hardly avoid the word.”

She almost snorted at that. “Love,” she echoed, like the word tasted bad on her tongue.

He huffed, almost exasperated but there was a fondness to it, like he loved a challenge and found her to be the most intriguing one. “What shall I call you, then?”

“Not love, that’s for sure.”

“A name?”

It clicked for her, then. She considered her reply, humming to herself. “I think you might know it already.”

His eyes glimmered with something unexpected. “Don’t tell me you’re—”

“Emma.”

A beat passed, and the air between them stretched taut, stealing breath and heartbeats and thoughts. 

“Emma.” His voice caressed her name, his accent curling around it with warmth. He said it like he knew things about her that he couldn’t have known. “I’m Killian Jones. And I’m terribly sorry I’m late.” The tenderness hadn’t vanished entirely, but the charm had returned, and it made her feel steady again.

“I have a feeling that you’re going to figure out a way to make it up to me.”

[tayo-na]

Project Updates~

Okay, so I have so many different projects going all at once right now because I was diagnosed with Cool Guy Syndrome, so now I take something similar to Adderall.  Anyway!  I’m going to split this into three groups: started, need to start, and planning to in the future.

Started:

The cross stitch I’ve been working for forever on for my Grandma.  I’m so nearing the end, like, I can almost taste the finish line.  Alls I have left to do is the opposite stitch for the sky part of it.  Oh, and fill in the yellow roses.  But there aren’t all that many of those, so essentially it’s just the sky I have to focus on.

Sanding down my night side table.  The goal is to sand it and re-stain it because I’ve tried to do it before, but I had not the patience for it as a young teenager.  It’s amazing how hard it is to change old habits, because I’m also finding the patience for this hard.  However, I eventually want to take a stab at woodworking, so I need to develop the patience for it now.

I started a patch quilt with old sweatshirts from high school, an old set of winter pajamas (of which the fabric is quite fuzzy, so it’s flaking off everywhere it touches, unfortunately for me), and another old pair of plaid pajama pants.  I had some smaller blocks of, like, that kind of felt fabric, the one you’d use to make those knotted blankets with.  Sos I also trimmed those down, and added them to the bunch.  The individual square sizes I’m making are 2″x2″, and I’m assuming when they’re all sewn together, an individual square will be 1.5″x1.5″ or 1.75″x1.75″.  It all depends on how these shake out when I’m done cutting them up.

I started a crochet ombre dark blue beanie for one of my close friends, and I ideally would like to send it to her before October rolls around.  I’m probably, like, 3/4 of the way done.  I just get so bored sometimes with the monotony of the same thing over and over again, so doing the rounds to finish it off is killing me softly.

I had, a couple years ago, started a crochet blanket made with that Bernat fluffy yarn but I still have a ways a ways to go on it.  The plan was to have it in three sections: off-white, this grey and like cream color, and then off-white again.  But I still have yet to even get to the grey and cream color.

I also had, a couple years ago, started a scarf made of the smaller balls of yarn I had and couldn’t think of a use for.  I have, since then, completely unraveled it and started from the top again due to yarn size discrepancies which made my scarf look like a wobbly river.  I actually do like knitting, but I’ve only recently learned how to… purl?  I’m not sure if that’s exactly the stitch I’m doing, but the way it comes out makes the piece ribbed when I do the backwards of the regular knit stitch.  So I’ll take it.

Need to Start:

Embroidery of Gayle Waters-Waters from GAYLE.  It’s a miniseries on YouTube done by Chris Fleming.  The episodes last no longer than ten minutes, and are usually below that anyways.  I want to do an embroidery of Gayle’s Iconic Expression with the phrase “What Would Gayle Waters-Waters Do?” around it.  It’s a very insanely belated Christmas gift for one of my IRL best friends, and is now also a belated birthday gift for her.

Cross-stitch for one of my other IRL best friends.  A similar gift situation as above.  She was a psych major before she graduated, and also took a horseback riding course in her penultimate semester.  My idea is to have a pillow that says “Only Freudian horsegirls get it.”  And in the negative space have a pair of horseshoes and a tobacco pipe there.  She’ll hate it, and I can’t wait!

Another birthday embroidery gift for an IRL friend, but his birthday has yet to pass.  He unfortunately shares a birthday with a notorious date in September, so my goal is to finish it before then.  I call him “Thornbird”, so I’ve got an idea regarding a sort-of blobby Loggerhead Shrike sitting on a branch. Under the branch is a thistle flower, and crawling up the sides are thistle leaves.  His favorite plant and a bird, just like my Grandma’s gift, lmao.

I promised my family socks this past Christmas.  My goal is to also get them done before October so we can have a chance to enjoy them, potentially.  I have super cute sock yarn for them and everything.

Planning to Start:

About a year ago, while I was moving from one state to another, I had taken apart one of my old dresses that I had gotten from Old Navy God knows how long ago.  My idea was to make it a two-piece set.  The top is a crop top and the bottom stays a skirt.  I plan on using denim as the hem for the crop top and the waist for the skirt.  It’s rather ambitious for me, since the most I’ve done regarding clothes is patching holes and light embroidery.  But I’m determined to do it because I did love that dress a lot.

I had a set of penguin pajamas when I was a teenager that I no longer fit into, but I love the pattern so much.  So, I want to turn it into a skirt.  This one is the really ambitious idea because it involves pleats, pockets, and the pleats are ideally two-toned, with the outside facing bit the penguins, and the inside is this dark blue with small white dots cotton that I don’t even remember where I picked it up from.  But I think it’d be super cute if I can manage to figure it out.  I’m planning on doing a mock-up of it for Reginald, the bunny I made at Build-a-Bear on a whim because I saw that there were DC costumes for the stuffed animals.  I originally wanted him to wear the Flash’s outfit, but the store I went to didn’t have it, so I substituted for Batman.  Long tangent, but I’ll probably do a little one with spare fabric to see how it’d work and if I’d be able to actually pull it off.  It’d sure be cool if I could.

I feel like there are other things I want to do/am currently doing, but my brain is tired.  And given that it’s almost five in the morning, I’m not overly surprised.  But yeah!  These are the current works for me right now  :D

[robertlaskarzewski]

Fifteenth Week

Hi, my name is Robert Laskarzewski, and I am currently a sophomore at the Darla Moore School of Business studying International Business and Marketing. I’m a part of the International Business Responsible International Leadership (RIL) program and will spend the Spring and Fall semesters at the ESSEC Cergy campus. I was born and raised in California, about an hour away from San Francisco. I chose to attend the University of South Carolina specifically because of the RIL program and the amount of time abroad that was offered. Once I was accepted, it was an easy choice to pursue my studies there.

This week marked my last week of official classes, now all that’s left is two more finals – one of which will be assigned on the 18th (and due a week later) and the other is an exam on the 25th. My volunteering program in May has been mostly finalized and I had a brief conversation with my manager. He informed me what day to come on and that he would pick me up from the train station and help me settle in – although I’m quite nervous I’m sure it will be an amazing experience. He mentioned something about the beach in our brief three minute-long phone call which piqued my interest.

During the week however, I did have several of my finals including my French language final, French history/culture final, my Entrepreneurship final presentation, and my final paper for my E-Business class. The paper I wrote was about how blockchain can be used for business applications and whether it has real applicable use. I concluded that without public support, blockchain technologies would probably be unlikely to succeed on a mass scale – I’ll probably be wrong but that’s not too important.

On Friday, I went to Paris to get more of my film developed, see a museum, and watch a soccer game.

I went to the Paris Sewer Museum, a very interesting but quite small museum. It was basically just a stairway down to the sewer level of Paris where you could walk on walkways over a running Parisian sewer. It didn’t smell anywhere near as bad as I thought it would and I found it to be quite interesting all in all. I did see a few sewer rats which was pretty cool. I also went to a soccer game between Versailles FC and FC Villefranche Beaujoulais. It was very cold and misting the entire time so I ended up leaving after the first half, furthermore I didn’t really like the vibes of the stadium.

On Saturday, I went to Paris – again, to see a soccer game. This time it would be two of the heavy hitters in the First Division of French football, Lens and PSG. I almost didn’t go to this game, but I know I would forever regret not having gone to see Lionel Messi playing. Once I took the RER and the metro to the Le Parc des Princes, I found my way to my seat which was only five rows from the field. I was rooting for RC Lens so I was quick to celebrate their goal from the penalty spot, shouting as loud as I could among the PSG supporters. Despite the loss for my team of choice, I was happy to see so many players that I had only seen on TV.