#can u even imagine going to school to learn

[cyndaquillt]

Sometimes I feel like South Asian history should be a mandatory study topic especially for South Asians

[lesbianlenas]

i had an in person final today & omg so i was sitting in the back row & the row all the way in the back is smaller so it’s only 3 seats. so of course this guy has to come sit in the seat on the other end there was a WHOLE classroom why tf do u have to sit right next to me. there was a seat between us but still. anyway he had a giant fucking keyboard w him for no reason like you are on a laptop w a keyboard on it there is NO reason u need to be clacking away next to me on that thing. like they should NOT allow those keyboards wtf????? and then ok we were not allowed to use internet for our exam but we could do smth to get internet access but we were only allowed to do it to access our textbook. & i saw him googling things during the exam i’m like i should report him for violating the honor code just as payback for clacking next to me for 3 hrs 😑 he’s lucky i go into hyper focus during exams and i tuned it out bc normally if i had to deal w that i would not be able to focus. legit sooooo rude idc. and like wtf are you even googling that u can’t find in ur notes 🙄 i took the same exam and never felt the need to google smth i did not even use the textbook. but maybe i’m built different!!!!!!!

[saetoru]

imagine being fwbs with gojo n in the middle of folding you like a lawn chair he noses at your cheek n goes “hey do u wanna be my girlfriend?”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BEST OF THE BEST — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fwb! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, non canon compliant (suguru and shoko are ur friend group >:( tyvm), very cheesy ending my b, yes i made a reference to this is where you’re weak, right? sue me, petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, princess, baby)

“bet you were waitin’ for this all day, huh sweetheart?” satoru always has a way with words—a very unique, special, and irritating way with words that routinely manages to get under your skin.

you would scoff—in fact, you would call him quite a colorful variation of words if his thick cock wasn’t pressing comfortably against your sweet spot.

so instead, you gasp a quiet, “f-fuck—right there.”

“yeah, i know,” he chuckles, “this is where you need me, huh? where you’re weak?”

you can’t do anything but whimper at that, hands wrapped tightly around him as they claw into his shoulder. he always wears the marks you leave like a good sport too—shows up to the gym in a tank top that shows them off good and well, right for suguru to see them clear as day. you almost block satoru right on the spot when he sends you a selfie in the mirror, showing off the angry marks with a wink following.

it’s a bit of a predicament, fucking your high school friend and not letting anyone know. the idea of shoko and suguru finding out that every other night, satoru is in your bed as his cum leaks out of your abused cunt is enough to make you nauseous—but never nauseous enough not to open the door for him.

the most unfortunate fact you’ve learned in your life is that satoru knows how to fuck—in fact, he knows how to fuck you well enough that you let him come back. it’s a bit shameful, really, the way you let him knock on your door, the way you open it and let him in, the way you actually fuck him and let him sleep in your bed until the morning.

and then (because he’s an asshole) he wakes up, gives you a sly wink, and murmurs i’ll be back soon, yeah? keep that bed warm for me, sweetheart.

“c-close, toru—‘m gonna….gonna—”

“gonna what? cum? already? barely even fucked you yet,” he hums, hooking your leg over his shoulder before all but pressing you in half. you mewl at the way his tip brushes past your folds and splits you in half—deeper this time with the new position. “look at that,” he coos, staring down at the way his cock slips in and out of you, “takin’ me so well, sweet girl. i think you can go a bit longer, don’t you?”

“m-more, more—need—”

“i know, i know,” he grins, “need me to fuck you dumb, don’t you? don’t worry, princess. i’ll give you more.”

his hips snap into you, pelvis rocking against yours as his pre cum and your slick mix, making a mess between your bodies as it coats your skin. you gasp, pulling satoru closer as his head falls to tuck into your shoulder, his labored breaths fanning against the shell of your ear.

“‘s good,” you whine, “f-feels good, toru.”

“yeah? feel that? squeezin’ me so tight, i can barely move,” he groans, letting out a sweet, low sound into your ear that has your spine shivering—you think you could come undone from that, from the sounds he makes as your walls flutter around him.

you think everything about satoru is enough to send you over the edge, from the sound of his voice to that pretty face of his when he spills into you.

you know he’s close—you can feel the slight twitch of his cock as his pace gets sloppier, as his thumb finds your clit and rubs desperate circles into the sensitive nerves, as he practically presses your knees to your shoulders and bullies his throbbing cock deep into your dripping cunt. and you’re close too, head spinning as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part with a broken wail.

“c-close—‘gonna cum, toru,” you gasp, voice coming in labored pants as his breath hitches.

you look perfect like this—like you’re his, like your body was made for him to touch in sinful ways, like it was his cock that was always supposed to fit into you and make you fall apart. his hand grabs yours, and without thinking, both of your fingers interlace.

“baby,” he hums, his nose pressing into your cheek as he kisses the skin softly, “‘m gonna make you mine, yeah? wanna be my girlfriend? my sweet girl? you want it, right?”

you should be shocked—you should stop and ask him what he means, what he’s playing at, what he thinks he’s doing toying with your mind.

instead, you gasp, pulling him closer as your walls spasm around him, back arching and eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly snaps and you cum. hard. harder than he’s ever made you before. does the idea of being his really do that to you? does the idea of being his sweet, precious girl outside of your bed at night really send you hurdling over the edge like that?

evidently, it does—and your high sends him right into his own. like he needs you to fall apart so he can too, like the way he knows you feel good makes him feel good too. maybe he does want you, maybe it’s not a sick joke. the way his voice cracks with a strained call of your name certainly says as much—the way his hand tightens its grip on yours, the way his hips rut desperately as he presses impossibly closer, the way he presses hot, scattered kisses along your cheek and jaw as he groans through his release.

it’s messy. it’s filthy. it’s downright dirty the way satoru fucks his cum into you, letting it drip down your thighs and mark your skin—but it feels like being his.

you think you might want that.

he’s gentle when he finishes—carefully unhooks your legs from his shoulders before running a hand along your thigh and squeezing as he observes the cum dripping between your legs. you huff when he collapses over you, glaring at him as his weight presses onto your form.

“you’re heavy,” you grunt, smacking at his shoulder.

he hums, nose pressing to your jaw as he kisses it. “not moving till you answer me.”

“satoru, don’t joke about—”

“how rude,” he gasps, “you think i would joke while i’m balls deep in—”

“oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”

he grins, chuckling as he shuffles up to bury his face into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. “you don’t wanna be my girlfriend? that’s gonna hurt my feelings, y’know.”

satoru has always been like that, wearing an easy grin and plastering that playfulness on like a second skin. you can hear it though—the slight unease in his voice. you can’t fathom letting everyone know that sometimes, you let satoru fuck you…but maybe knowing that sometimes, you hold hands, and maybe kiss, and perhaps snuggle on the couch, and potentially even share a bed to sleep, not just fuck, but sleep—maybe they can know that. 

that doesn’t sound so bad. 

“that depends,” you hum, pretending to think, “how good at being a boyfriend are you?”

“excellent,” he plays along, “best of the best.”

“that’s just big talk. you could be lying for all i know,” you point out—but your fingers slip into his hair, twirling the sweaty strands along your fingers. 

“well, you’ll just have to let me prove i’m a good boyfriend—so that means i have to be your boyfriend. sorry, it’s the only way.”

if satoru hears the giggle you try to hide as you sigh exaggeratedly, he doesn’t mention it, lips pulling into a giddy smile as he pulls his head out of your neck and presses his forehead to yours. your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing gently.

“i guess if this is the only way,” you shake your head theatrically, “you can be my boyfriend. for now.”

“i’m grateful,” he snorts—and then there’s a peck to your lips. one, two, three gentle kisses before he presses a lingering one. it’s sweet, and slow, and just a bit needy as he presses deeper into you. “now i can tell suguru the scratches on my back are yours. he’s been asking a lot.”

leave it to satoru to speak and ruin the moment just by opening his mouth.

“satoru,” you hiss, throwing him a sharp look, “i think you’d be a better boyfriend when your mouth is shut.”

“then i can’t kiss you,” he gasps, “that’s the best part of being my girlfriend.”

and just to prove it, he kisses you again—and maybe, although you hate to admit it, he’s right. it is the best part. 

i wanna be his girlfriend :(

[pukicho]

hey @pukicho i saw your art and i thought it was super cool! you improved so quickly (really impressive btw), and i was wondering what resources used to study art? and what app/website you digitally draw on? and your brushes if your okay with sharing them? and literally ANY other information you had because i would love to learn how to draw?

i feel like a victorian street rat asking for more bread

I use an XP-Pen Pen Tablet and Clip Studio Paint as my program of choice, but any pencil and notebook will suffice for learning, and may even be better. As for learning, I use books, baby!!! BOOKS! I'll even be nice and tell u which ones, because I am a lover of shared knowledge:

How To Draw by Scott Robtertson - deceptively complex book on perspective. It tells you how to draw a box, I then suggest you draw a fuck-load of boxes in correct perspective before moving forward. Having a strong grasp on planes and perspective allows you to properly grasp the volumes and shape of almost anything. It's the baseline principle to visualizing what u wanna draw. Without simple forms understood in perspective, you merely lack the skills necessary to draw from imagination.

Carlson's guide to landscape Painting - A good book, even if u don't intend to draw landscapes. Tons of clever explanations on lighting and value. Tons of useful relational shortcuts to understand complex scenery in smarter ways. I like the way he explains things, it makes me go ohhhh.

TACO point character drawing 1 & 2 - Two NEAT anatomy reference books. It's mostly just a collection of simplified, anime-esque proportional figure drawings. They're a great reference, but I absolutely wouldn't use it as my only set of books on anatomy. It's still useful to use and learn, but in a more general way - and I can't currently apply everything the book tells me yet, because I haven't learned the forms in more detail first.

The Human Figure by Jon H Vanderpoel - this is a short, but VERY useful anatomy reference book. The Author is from the early 1900s - real oldschool, which is good. He has a very useful, matter-of-fact writing style. This is the better starter book to use in order to remember the proportional relationships of the human body (even then, it's still not enough)

The Practice of Oil Painting & Drawing by Solomon J. Solomon - I'll be honest, this one makes sense to me conceptually, but I cannot fucking execute some of his practices. This dude is from the victorian era, his paintings are in museums and they're too good. It only makes sense that his views and approach to art are headier than some of the other suggestions on this list. The book is still useful, and I presume will only grow in usefulness as I learn. It does still have some cool ideas in the first-half of the book that you can easily apply to your art studies! But the second half is a series of master-derived schools of learning that I have yet to dare touch.

(also check out loomis books. I hear they are good)

ENJOY

[yup-no-way]

Astro Observations pt. 3

Hi there! So here comes another astro observations post. But before I have to rant. Man…uni is kicking me in the butt (average engineering student). Like wdym I have a month till my finals and I have a research paper, 3 projects, 2 lab reports, 2 Tests and one lab exam due. And I have to start studying for my finals as well. ߹ ᯅ ߹

These observations are based on my personal experiences so don’t take it as full facts. These placements can also be influenced by other things in someone’s chart like degrees, houses and aspects. Also if u have any suggestions for what content you’d like to see feel free to let me know. English is not my first language lads so don’t drag me for grammatical errors. xoxo

Venus trine Ascended aspect: how does it feel to be life’s favourite . Like these people just have it like that. They are genuinely beautiful people and while that can manifest as conventional attractive, from my personal experience, their beauty is very unique , depending on other aspects in their chart. But whatever style of beauty they have, they embody it fully and they turn eyes wherever they go. Also these are the type of people who’s beauty is influenced by how they feel about themselves so if you practice self love and acceptance then that’s when you radiate the most.

Pluto 10h: huuuuge issues with authority figures. Mostly these people fall into 2 categories. First one, they always feel suppressed but push back therefore getting into arguments with those authority figures. Second one, they feel suppressed but don’t say anything, they prefer to lay low and not confront those issues. Overall for each case it’s a heavy placement and causes heavy friction in your life. These people also almost 100% have (or had) a lot of arguments with their parents. BUT, if you channel this energy by learning how to play the cards you’ve been dealt and manipulate situations without coming so upfront then this placement is so powerful, especially in regards to career. CEO energy. These people rlly would much rather work for themselves. I could go on hours talking ab Pluto, but I’ll leave it for another post because this planet is so interesting and people need to learn how to harness its energy better.

Lilith Gemini: worst nightmare for these people? Being perceived as dumb. They will rather be called ugly, weird etc. than being called stupid. And the best part? They aren’t stupid at all. Their most cunning aspect? Their intelligence. For some, they might’ve actually been perceived as slow when younger but worked hard just to not be associated with that imagine anymore.

4th house in Gemini: for a lot of these people, their home never felt that welcoming when young. This placement indicated a home/environment where growing intellectually/academically was very important (more important than their emotional state). Geminis 4th house experienced a lot of shame regarding their grades in their home/school or faced immense pressure to be “the first in class”. Also, this placement can be harder to navigate because due to the lack of support they might’ve felt in their environment. I wanna give you guys a big hug, seriously. You are more than your academics. Lots of love to yous xoxo

Venus trine Pluto: these people are magnetic. They are also mostly perceived way differently than they are (kinda sad tbh). So many people with this placement are hard to approach, even if they are genuinely nice people, at least once in their life, someone told them they look intimidating. This placement might not get hit on as much because of it. People tend to have fantasies regarding this collective, specifically in the house of your Pluto. For example if you have a Pluto in the 2nd house, they might fantasise about you taking them out for a shopping spree or them taking you out and spoiling you. If you have Pluto 10th house, then maybe they are very attracted to your work persona and might fantasise about some forbidden work love. You get the point. This placement is very intense but it can attract unhealthy relationships. You need to learn your toxic pattern and make sure you do not repeat it.

I hope you guys enjoyed this as well! I will be diversifying my content soon, I just had some more placements I wanted to talk about before I start smth new. Also I don’t have that many observations today since I have been focused on writing another Astro blog that is coming soon (I am so exited). Before my next astro observations post I’ll need to gather more info (aka psychoanalyse all my friends and the people around me)

Till next time xoxo

[monstersholygrail]

dray the crisis is hitting again can I get yandere mad scientist and their also mad scientist reader who loves experimenting with them? Thank u!!

Omgeee my first yandere ask, thank you sm!! Hope you like it, it kinda went all over the place (much like the couple lol)

Ever since Yandere!Mad Scientist was a boy the twisted darkness of scientific exploration spoke to the depths of his soul. He carried it with him throughout his childhood and the so-called deranged experiments he would conduct on the neighborhood animals.

When you, the new neighbor’s child, cried over the loss of your cat, Yandere!Mad Scientist felt something shift inside of him for the first time in his few years on this earth. He wondered briefly if this is what his parents meant when referring to emotion. He wanted… more of this strange sensation. He also wanted to use his gifts for someone else for a change. Another first your presence has given him.

He knew you would appreciate the gift that resulted from his experiment, and appreciate him, even when no one else ever has. Something in him told him you would understand. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny, no, he believed in cold hard facts and science. But perhaps in this one exception… it was your soul calling out for him. It had to be. Who was he not to answer?

The moment you throw open the gift box in your family’s living room to reveal your cat’s moving head on a mechanical body and your joyous squeals mingle with your parents horrified screams, he knew. The way you marveled at his accomplishment as you hugged your cat close before your parents tore it away from you in terror.

He knew you were meant to be his. And someday when he wasn’t so little and you weren’t under the control of your parents, you would be. By the possessive look you flash him as your parents usher him out and threaten to call the cops, he knows you have the same idea.

As you both continued to age, Yandere!Mad Scientist’s experiments only got more complex and dangerous. Though now you were right there by his side, driving his theories down even darker avenues. Your creative mind just as twisted as his, if not more so. Your genius unparalleled.

Of course, a series of strategic maneuvers had to be set in place every time you both snuck away to meet up given your parents had permanently banned you from seeing ‘the freak kid next door.’ They still hadn’t gotten over the little cat incident. The fact that you kept the cat alive to this day probably not helping them move on either.

But nothing could keep you away from each other. He was yours and you were most definitely his. With your work together you two would take control of the world and destroy anyone who tried to get in the others path. They were all of inferior minds to you two, they had no right to deny you what rightfully belonged to you and him.

No one would be able to touch you or keep you from him again. It was only a matter of time.

When you and Yandere!Mad Scientist got to college it was the real first taste of freedom either of you had ever had. He thought that this was it. You two would never be separated from now on. He’d be in an off campus apartment with you after school and during school you two would have all the same classes.

But then you have to go and betray him, doing the worst thing imaginable. Choosing a different major than him. While he had gone the expected path— the correct one— of a Science Major. You had chosen… Psychology. It was possibly the first time in his entire life that Yandere!Mad Scientist had been furious at you. You wouldn’t believe how tempted he was to handcuff you to him so you’d be forced to always remain by his side

He was actually searching online for a good sturdy pair the night you came to him asking for help with a project, the first you two had spoken in days following the fight you had about it. And that’s when he learns of your true motivations, the reason behind your desire to be a… Psych major of all things.

You see, you had started working on a memory control device that would surely help your plans for world domination. Of course, he immediately agreed to working on this with you. You two had never worked separately since you met and he wasn’t about to start now. Only he was allowed to know the inner workings of your mind, to understand the way your genius wove its clever webs. He was the only one who ever understood you and that would remain true for as long as he had a say about it.

Together, the work on your project progressed rapidly. The two of you working on it day and night. It was a little tricky, given you two only shared a few classes together where you’d pass flirtatious notes filled with complex algorithms. But he made do.

Though as you learned more from your classes and began applying them to the device, something started feeling… off about it all. More algorithms were attempted that he doesn’t remember running, beakers he doesn’t recall turning on were left running till they overflowed, and days seemed to pass him by where it felt like he had done absolutely nothing despite your excited rambling on the progression of the project.

One night, as you two are cleaning up from that night’s experiments, he comes across one of his many notebooks. Buried deep under a dozen others just like it. But this one has a book mark with an arrow pointing down saying ‘Read me.’ On the marked page lays a whole series of numbers and formulas he’s never even seen before in his one handwriting. With a sticky note at the top reading ‘Forget Something?’

He reads through what appears to be his work over and over again. No, this can’t be real. He never did any of this, it’s impossible. But as he watches the formulas grow more successful with each equation, realization dawns on him. It is possible. He just lost his memory of it. He looks up, eyes instantly catching onto your form across the room just as you look back up at him.

That playful smirk and mischievous glimmer in your eye that he loves so much. It’s as clear as day. As is what you’ve been doing to him. His lips curl into a mirroring expression and you just laugh, returning your gaze to your work.

Ah, so that’s how you want to play it, huh? That’s more than fine by him. He can play it right back to ya. To show you that his brain is all yours for fucking around with, so long as you’re his to do the same.

The next time you come to, the pair of you are sitting in an unfamiliar lecture hall. The teacher droning on about a topic you can’t really hear. Still half-asleep with your head resting on your arms.

“Wakey wakey, darling,” he murmurs in your ear, hand petting your head affectionately. You look too cute all groggy and disoriented as you slowly wake up from the device’s effects. He understands why you used it so much on him. Seeing you like this was absolutely irresistible.

You groan, eyes scrunching up tight. Your head feeling like it weighs about a metric ton and your eyes begging to remain closed forever. You open them anyway, lashes fluttering as you try and focus in on your surroundings. The lecture hall is completely unfamiliar to you. And given the stone walls, you’re in a completely different department.

“W-where am I?” You ask, voice slightly slurred from misuse.

He is having too much fun watching you. It’s wild seeing the device be used and the impacts it has on its users. He briefly wonders if you’ll forget all about this feeling just as he had. He cups your chin with a surprising tenderness, slowly bringing your attention back on him.

“Don’t you remember, dear? You decided to transfer into the Science department. Now, we’ll be together in all our classes. Just like you wanted,” he rumbles, his voice like a hypnotic lullaby as his thumb soothingly caresses your jaw.

It takes a moment for you to break through the comforting haze of his touch so his words can register. Your brows furrow deeply, having no memory of leaving your previous major. The words begin to repeat in your head, echoing and pounding against your skull.

Remember.

He can the moment clarity begins to dawn on you. Your eyes losing that dazed effect to them. He practically watches as you put the pieces together, realizing what must’ve happened just like he did. Though he has to give you props for how fast you realized. Your genius only made him fall harder for you, want even more of you.

But when you burst out into a fit of quiet giggles, your eyes lighting up with pride, he can feel the strings you have wrapped around his heart grow impossibly tighter. It was that pride in your work, pride in the success of the device, and even pride in him for managing to get one on you.

Your laughter is infectious and soon he’s laughing right along with you in the lecture hall, leaning in close and marveling at what you two can do when you put your minds to it.

He looks into your eyes, his hand sliding to cup your cheek and holding you like you’re the most the precious thing in the world to him. And just like back when you were kids, with one look he knows what you’re thinking.

That there is nothing better than experimenting with each other. In every way possible.

[airybcby]

So it’s Canon that isagi is a really awkward guy and barely had any friends in skl, so imagine Reader takes interest in isagi bc she finds him really cute and starts to slowly then constantly invading his business, and starts going to his school games.

But they were only really connected to each other by skl, never really hung out outside of school so they become incredibly distant when isagi goes to Blue Lock womp womp 😔 so when U20 games finishes, isagi low-key forgets Reader existed, just that she was the girl who made school a bit more bearable, but he meant everything to Reader

I’m into bittersweet Isagi these days, no happy Isagi 😔

now this...this is something i can work with ;)

used feminine she/her pronouns since you used them in your ask! so fem! reader!!

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i know that i should hate you

( isagi yoichi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — i love this ask :) added my own lil twang to the end

♡ word count — 1.4k

♡ content — isagi yoichi x fem! reader, set before he leaves for blue lock, goes into the U-20, let's pretend they have a winners parade :) , school friends but not friends friends, awkward! isagi, unrequited love, i think that's it, not proofread!

♡ synopsis — You told yourself you would forget Isagi Yoichi, just like he forgot you. You were a good liar when you wanted to be.

── .✦ i should hate you, i feel stupid

The bleachers creaked when you sat down. Same as they always had. Same cold metal pressing into your legs, same battered field stretched out in front of you.

It had been a long time since you'd been here. Long enough that the rust was winning over the paint, long enough that the lines on the field had started to fade.

Long enough that it almost didn't feel real — those afternoons you spent here, pretending you just liked the fresh air, pretending you weren't looking for him.

But you had been. Always, it was him.

Even when no one else noticed, even when he was just another boy chasing a ball across a dying field, you saw him.

You cared first. You cared too much.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them, and closed your eyes.

If you tried hard enough, you could almost hear it — the dull thud of cleats against dirt, the quiet grunt of effort when he ran too fast, the sound of your own hands clapping louder than anyone else's.

Maybe that's why it hurt so much now.

Maybe that's why you couldn't seem to let it go.

You first noticed him in third period history.

He wasn’t anyone special, not really — slouched in his seat near the window, scribbling in the margins of his notebook, half-listening.

But there was something about him that made you look twice.

Maybe it was the way he bit the end of his pen when he was thinking.

Maybe it was the way he laughed — rare, startled, boyish — when someone said something funny.

Maybe it was just the way he seemed so lonely, even in a room full of people.

Isagi Yoichi.

A boy with too-big dreams scribbled between math notes.

A boy who ate lunch with his teammates sometimes, but never quite belonged even there.

He was awkward.

Sweet, in a way.

Cute, in that quiet, stubborn kind of way that made you want to sit beside him just to see if you could make him smile.

So you did.

You started sitting next to him when you could — ignoring the open seats elsewhere, ignoring the way he stiffened like he didn’t know what he was supposed to say.

You borrowed pens, asked about homework you didn’t actually need help with, lingered at the door after class to ask if he was coming to practice.

At first, he barely managed full sentences around you.

A nod here.

A stuttered "yeah" there.

A shy glance that skittered away too fast.

You were patient.

You learned to fill the silences.

You learned that he was better at listening than talking — that if you kept your voice soft and steady, he’d relax eventually.

And he did.

Sometimes you’d catch him already looking at you when you turned around.

Sometimes he'd wait, clumsy and obvious, just outside your classroom so you could walk to the next one together.

It wasn’t a friendship, not really.

But it was something.

Something fragile and hopeful and new.

Something that only existed when you both allowed it to.

You learned he played forward on the soccer team.

You learned he hated cold weather, but loved playing in the rain.

You learned he liked instant curry, and video games, and that his biggest dream — the one he barely said out loud — was to become a striker the whole world knew by name.

You decided you liked him before you even realized you were falling.

You started going to his games because you said you were bored.

Because your friends had other plans.

Because it was easy to slip into the stands, hoodie pulled over your head, pretending you were just there.

But really, you were there for him.

Only him.

You didn’t know the rules, not really, but you learned to recognize him by the way he moved — sharp and quick and a little reckless, always chasing something only he could see.

Sometimes he would glance toward the stands, searching.

And sometimes, when he caught your eye, he would smile — small and shy, like it was a secret between you.

You clapped until your hands were sore.

You screamed his name until your voice went hoarse.

You watched him shine, even when nobody else noticed.

You wanted to be someone he remembered.

Someone he needed.

Someone he thought about when the world felt too heavy.

You let yourself believe you were.

When the rumors about Blue Lock started, you didn’t believe them at first.

A special program?

For the best of the best?

It sounded like something out of a manga.

But then he stopped coming to class.

His name was called for attendance, and no one answered.

You waited.

One day, two, three.

You kept thinking — hoping — he would show up late, laughing, apologizing, telling some crazy story.

He didn’t.

The realization hit slow, then all at once.

He was gone.

And he hadn’t even said goodbye.

The months dragged.

You still sat in your usual seat.

Still caught yourself looking at the empty desk beside you.

Still found yourself walking past the soccer field after school, even though there was nobody left worth watching.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

You barely knew him, after all.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous.

Clinging to something that was never really yours.

You told yourself you would forget him, just like he forgot you.

You were a good liar when you wanted to be.

When the U-20 match aired, you weren’t ready.

You thought maybe you could handle it.

You thought maybe you could just watch — like everyone else — and cheer for the boy from your hometown who made it big.

But the second you saw him on screen —

The second you saw the way he ran, the way he fought, the way he smiled when he scored …

The ache in your chest returned, raw and sharp and ugly.

He wasn’t the awkward boy from third period anymore.

He was electric.

Magnetic.

Bigger than the world you knew.

You whispered his name into the empty room.

You cried when you remembered he wouldn’t hear it.

The parade was louder than you expected.

Crowds pressing in from every side, banners waving, people screaming his name.

You stayed on the edge, heart hammering against your ribs.

And then you saw him.

Isagi Yoichi.

Smiling, waving, accepting praise like he didn’t know what to do with it all.

Still a little awkward — still scratching the back of his neck when he got overwhelmed — but brighter somehow, more sure of himself.

He looked nothing like the boy everyone watched win his first big game.

But he also looked nothing like the boy you sat next to in history.

You held your breath when his eyes skimmed the crowd.

And then — for just a second — they locked on you.

Something flickered there.

Recognition, maybe.

Or maybe you just wanted it too badly.

He pushed through the crowd, coming toward you — awkward, determined, so him it made your throat close.

"Hey," he said, grinning.

You smiled, too, too shaky, too hopeful.

"Hey."

"You’re...uh...you were in my history class, right?"

The words sliced deep.

You nodded.

"Yeah. Third period."

He laughed, scratching his neck again.

"I thought you looked familiar. You used to come to the games, right?"

Another nod, a flicker of hope sparking in your chest.

"Yeah. I did."

"Thanks for that," he said, sincerity shining through. "It really meant a lot back then."

Back then.

Before everything.

Before you became a stranger again.

As if it wasn’t only a few months ago.

Someone shouted his name, and he glanced over his shoulder.

"I should get going," he said, apologetic.

"But...it was good seeing you."

"Yeah," you whispered. "You too."

And just like that, he was gone — swallowed by the crowd, by the noise, by the life he built without you.

You stayed there long after everyone else left.

The streets emptied, the banners sagged, the excitement faded.

And you stood alone, heart cracked wide open, wishing you could hate him.

You should.

You should hate him for forgetting you.

For outgrowing you even though, really, you were too small of a pot for him to be put in anyways.

For making you believe you ever mattered.

But you don’t.

You hate yourself more — for still loving a boy who barely remembers your name.

You wipe your eyes, set your shoulders, and turn away.

You were just a girl who made school a little more bearable.

He was the boy who made it out.

He was someone unforgettable.

You were someone he already forgot.

airy stop indenting after the smallest sentence challenge GO!

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⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[bloomzone]

everything about my 2025 program

my dreams goals list is divide to 7 categories

- arc of studying

- arc of reading

- arc of solitude

- arc of education

- arc of aesthetic

- arc of health

- arc of joy

Arc of studying :

- i want to master all subjects in school with a focus on understanding rather than memorizing.

- create a weekly study schedule and stick to it I don't want to be messy

- i want to develop my weak subject by studying regularly on them in the week

- I'm not a "phone obsessed" typa of person i don't have social media app because ik they can ruin my life and my attention span too but I need to stop listening to music during studying and switch to brown,white .. noises

Arc of reading :

- i set a 100 books challenge because I want to comeback to my reading area

- keep a mini journal to reflect on lessons learned from books

- explore other genre of books like history and philosophy but my focus point is self help

Arc of solitude

- embrace quiet moments to recharge and reflect.

- as someone with a very very small circle I want to focus on going in solo date rather than waiting for someone to hangout with me

- i want to love myself more and be my own best friend

Arc of education:

- immerse myself in mandarin , italian more

- gain in-depth knowledge about other countries culture since one of my biggest dream is to travel the world

- subscribe more in pages that have a relation with humanities , literature and cultures

- I have 100 french essay ideas ，I'm going to challenge my self to write 1 everyday so I can develop my vocabulary more ( my dad idea :⁠,⁠-⁠) )

Arc of lifestyle aesthetic

- as someone who love home and my desk the most , the things that i need to develop and grow is the idea of clear room = clear mind

- even during busy time , i won't forget to tidy my room

- i want to enhance my room styling to deepen my affection for the space and be always motivated .

Arc of health :

- regular exercises and healthy eating are essential because eeevryyything depends on a good health

- i'm not a big fan of intense workout so stretch or pilates are my bff !

- put a reminder alarm to never forget my vitamins

Arc of joy

- as a person who gets stressed a lot i need to take care of my mind and spirit

- if I feel like my negative thought start eating me again I need to refresh my mind by a long walk , buying something meaningful , listening to my happiness detox playlist , watching my fav youtubers

- stay away from anything that reminds me of old negative memories

So to achieve these goals from the 9 categories I need to set small habits . I selected a few habits to turn it into a daily routine . i stared setting these small habits since the early days of december so rn they are sticking into my days :

1 . wake up at 5:20 am and stretch

2 . skincare and read 5 pages of my book

3 . morning journal and a duolingo session

4 . day planning

and others like eating vegetables , stay away from soda drinks and have a creative session evey 10 days and drink more water I need to work on them more

this make it 11 habits ! for this year.

📮 : fact box :

『 I was listing to an episode of huberman lab it talked about how when you're feeling lazy stuck or procrastinating the way to snap out of it isn't by doing something easy but actually by challenging yourself to do something harder than the task you're avoiding It might sound counterintuitive but this approach is rooted in the way dopamine works in our brains. you might procrastinate writing an essay and end up cleaning your room instead—something you’d usually avoid Cleaning feels easier than the thing you're avoiding so you do it Now imagine this instead of cleaning u do something even more challenging. Suddenly ur brain shifts gears, and you find it easier to return to the original task. Why? Because dopamine levels rise, and once that happens, you operate at a completely different energy level.It’s not just psychology—it’s biology at play. This little shift in mindset can completely change how u approach procrastination and productivity 』

@bloomzone 📇

[joelhoney]

#1 girl

pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader

kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!

You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all

Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.

The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.

For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.

Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.

The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.

Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.

“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.

“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”

“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.

Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.

Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.

It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.

“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.

“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”

“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads. 

“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.

“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.” 

You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.

The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—

“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.

It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.

You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.

“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”

“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”

“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”

You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.

“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?” 

“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”

“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”

“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past. 

“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. “I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”

Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”

“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”

“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”

“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”

“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.

You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.

“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”

Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”

You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.” 

“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.

“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.

“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.

“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.

You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.

Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages. 

But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately. 

“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.

Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.

“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.

You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.

“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”

“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts. 

“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous. 

He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”

“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”

At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”

He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”

“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”

The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”

He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”

But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.

“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained. 

“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.

“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”

“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”

His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.

“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”

He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.

“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”

Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.

“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.

“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.

“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.

You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.

He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.

Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.

His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom. 

Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on. 

“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.

“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his. 

“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”

You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”

So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight. 

You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.

“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—” 

“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”

He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.

“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.

“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”

Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.

“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him. 

“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.

“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice small. 

“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise��he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”

You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”

“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”

“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”

Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.” 

A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.

“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”

You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts.  The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.

He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.

You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”

He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.

“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.

“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.

Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.

“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”

“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”

“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.

He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.

“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.

“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.

“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”

“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever. 

“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”

“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”

You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.

You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”

[beehunterkisser]

What do you think the PnF kids get up to during the non-summer months?

THIS IS A FUN ONE. Since it's not summer I'm assuming you mean like school 'nd stuff so here's my musings from the perspective of someone who only knows Ireland School

Phineas and Ferb def strike me as kids who have relatively good attendance at school but that doesn't mean they like it all that much. obviously whenever it'd be shown in the show they have to be good examples so they'd love it But Phineas in particular strikes me as someone who would get REALLY bored in a class setting. frustrating teachers worldwide by not doing homework doodling during class but getting insanely good results no matter what. Ferb seems more diligent in that regard so he'd probably do just fine but their hearts aren't rlly in it yk. Outside of that I can imagine their 'big ideas' during the non-summer months are a lot less common since they just get the weekend and the occasional seasonal holiday to make anything.

Isabella I think is probably also a good student and takes it a lot more seriously than PNF. I don't really know much about how girl scout troops work cause they're like non existent here unless ur in a city apparently so I can't really think about that too much. You know she LOVES extracurriculars though. she's in sports teams for sure I drew her in a GAA jersey in one of my doodle pages this is so real to me. Head of a bunch of the girl teams and everything I literally cannot imagine a situation where Isabella would Not lead a group it's just in her blood.

Baljeet has had perfect attendance since he began learning anything. Not a single day missed every single piece of work done to perfection and then some. he's crazy. He's def a teacher's pet type too you know they all love him. they had to pull him aside and be like You gotta let the other kids answer things every so often and he was just like 😐 Ok ..... He also totally does like really advanced after school classes. he's got a rigorous schedule if you wanna hang out during the school season you ask weeks in advance. Colour coded binders and detailed journals and completely neat intricate notes. he has it all down to a T he's an academic force to be reckoned with. And sometimes he even gets 6 hrs of sleep on a good day!!!!!

Buford. Does not gaf. Busted ass bag ruined books etc he's the opposite of Baljeet. The school calls Biffany and they're like ur son hasn't been going to school for the past 2 weeks and she's like Yea ik he's right here he's carrying in my groceries for me. he just doesn't go and she doesn't care either cause she's def the type of mother to just be like in the morning . do u wanna go. And if he says No she's just like Ok. Whenever he does come in obviously hes terrorizing Nerds/His Nerd all day so he has his reputation he's also just winning the idgaf war on the side. He probably spends his time like being a mild nuisance to retail workers/trying to convince his friends to mitch too and trespassing into people's fields. Probably when he's older and actually important exams come up he crams everything in the car on the way there and actually does decently well. Buford wins by doing nothing.

[corroded-hellfire]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8BChQY6/

I was just reading the AYW halloween fic u posted and I saw this and can you imagine Eddie pulling this stunt on Ryan and Luke. I feel like this is how they would react

Surprise, another AYW story! I've had this request since last year, so I apologize to the anon who has been waiting so long. This takes place the day after this Halloween story!

Words: 1.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“No, you didn’t!” 

“Yes, I did.”

“No! You did not!”

“Where is it then?”

It’s next to impossible for Eddie to keep a straight face. 

Luke frowns and flops back against the cushions on the couch. His natural Munson dramatics are on full display, even at five years old. 

“You didn’t eat our candy!” Ryan insists.

It takes everything in you not to start laughing at their small, affronted faces. You gave them each one piece of candy on the ride home from school and one when they got home. That’s all the candy they’ve laid eyes on today—they don’t know their stash from last night is in a big bowl on the top shelf of the pantry. But Eddie, being Eddie, had to take the opportunity of their lack of visibility to tease them. After a long day at work, it seems to be relaxing him actually. 

“How could you eat all of that?!” Luke demands, running his hands down his face.

“We shared,” Eddie says, nodding his head towards you. You fight the impulse to raise your eyebrows at him for looping you into his evil plan. 

“That’s what you did after we went to bed?” Ryan asks, brow furrowing.

God, the things I wanted to do with her last night… Eddie thinks. 

“We’re never going to bed again,” Luke says. 

“You even ate the candy corn?” Ryan’s nose wrinkles up at the thought of anyone eating that gross candy. 

“Even that,” you say. 

“This is so unfair!” Luke slides down from the couch to the floor, lying face down on the carpet. “It’s all I was looking forward to today. What’s even the point anymore?”

Both you and Eddie have to turn away and hide your muffled laughter. Five seems a little young to be having some sort of existential crisis. 

Once recovered, Eddie looks back at his son. Luke face planting on the ground and Ryan slumped over the arm of the couch in annoyance. He toys with stringing them along a little bit longer but decides he’s had his fun.

“How about this,” Eddie starts. “I’ll get you more candy if you do one thing.”

“What?” Ryan asks as both boys’ heads pop up.

“Remember that dance you learned yesterday?” Eddie’s eyes drift to you and you share a smirk.

After school and before trick-or-treating yesterday you taught the small Munsons how to do the Time Warp dance from Rocky Horror. 

“Yeah,” Luke answers.

“I wanna see it again,” Eddie tells them.

You’ve never seen the boys get up on their feet so quickly before. They’re both ready, hands on hips, to perform the choreography. 

“Do you happen to have the soundtrack?” you ask Eddie.

He swivels his head in your direction and cocks an eyebrow. It’s a look that says did you really just ask me that?

“What kind of music aficionado and 70s kid would I be if I didn’t have it?” He pushes himself up from the chair and walks over to his collection near the stereo.

“Well, pardon me,” you tease.

Eddie chuckles and looks over his shoulder at you with a cheeky smile.

“I actually only have it because my friend Dustin got two for his birthday one year and he gave me the extra.”

You walk over to him and playfully swat his shoulder blade.

“Making me feel dumb,” you mumble.

Eddie plucks the CD from a pile and turns to wrap one arm around your shoulders.

“Aw come on, sweetheart,” he says, looking at you with those damn brown eyes that make you melt. “Who would I be if I didn’t mess with the people I care about?”

Your heart flutters but you immediately try to tamp it down. It would make sense that he cares for you, given that he trusts you to watch his children every day for over six months now. It’s nothing more than that, you convince yourself. Because you have to. 

“Can we dance, please?” Luke huffs. “I want my chocolate.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says. He pops the CD out of the case and slides it into the stereo.

It's astounding

Time is fleeting

Madness takes its toll

But listen closely

Not for very much longer

I've got to keep control

The boys wiggle, loosening up as they wait for the chorus. Both you and Eddie watch in excited anticipation. 

“Here it is,” Luke tells his brother. 

Ryan nods and adjusts his hands on his hips.

It's just a jump to the left

The boys take giant hops to the left, Luke almost knocking into his brother. 

And then a step to the right

Put your hands on your hips

The boys don’t have to do the motion since they’ve had them there the entire time.

You bring your knees in tight

But it's the pelvic thrust

It really drives you insane

A giggle bursts out of you as the boys wiggle their hips—which is what you taught them because no children need to learn what “pelvic thrust” means.

The music winds down and the little dancers melt down onto the living room carpet.

“Bravo,” Eddie says, starting a slow clap. You join in as the brothers get up and take bows.

“Candy?” Luke asks.

“Hmm,” Eddie hums. He keeps his face neutral as he presses his hands to his thighs to rise from his seat. 

Their eyes never leave their father as he makes his way into the kitchen. When he disappears due to a wall, they lean over to keep Eddie in their sights. The squeak of the pantry door echoes out to the living room and your eyes are automatically attracted to the little sliver of skin that shows when Eddie reaches up to the top shelf. 

A dramatic gasp comes from Luke as Eddie pulls down the same large orange bowl that the pooled candy was put into last night. 

“You didn’t eat it!” the five-year-old growls.

“You liar!” Ryan calls, pointing at his father.

“I did not lie,” Eddie says as he strolls back into the room. “I was tricking you. You know, as in, trick-or-treat.”

“Now gimme my treat,” Luke says, making grabby hands.

You plop down on the couch and pull the smaller boy into your lap.

“Will you share with me?” you ask.

“Yeah, you’re a nice lady.”

You chuckle and wrap your arms around Luke as Ryan sits down next to you and Eddie puts the bowl on the coffee table.

“Okay, give me all your KitKats,” Eddie says.

“Go fish,” Ryan says, snatching up a KitKat and unwrapping it before his dad can get it.

“Can this be our dinner?” Luke asks.

“It can be your dinner if you go to bed in ten minutes,” Eddie says.

Luke sighs. “Never mind.”

[lesbianlenas]

spading has awoken a beast in me….i never thought i would want to shoot someone dead for smth like using supra when citing to a case but unironically if i could i would rn. like are you INSANE??? supra when citing a CASE?????

[y-elleven]

hi veny!!!! for ur tshd au, can we have rin as the monster please? i know u mentioned otoya first but i think creature rin could have so much potential!!!!

(p.s. i hope u get ur manga soon w/o damages💔)

hi nonnie!! i'm currently still powering through the otoya ver. so have this snippet in the meantime. i'll write + post the full thing tmr (maybe), so i hope u like this for now!!

rin is your best friend.

you have matching bracelets, go to school together, hang in your rooms and just exist in each other's space with all the entitlement that comes with known each other since before either of you even knew how to spell your own names. your first meeting at age five included a plastic dinosaur getting chucked at your head and a lot of crying. but when his older brother directed him to hold your hand so he could lead you both to an adult with little fuss, you held on tighter and hadn't let go since.

when sae left for some overseas soccer program a few years later, rin grew colder and less enthusiastic about anything but soccer. in a sleepy town like yours where the last exciting thing was watching the older itoshi brother leave for the city though, you learn to roll with his barbs and stick close to the most interesting person you know. the gods know rin needs it. for a guy who insists so strongly on being by himself, he's terrible at being alone.

lately though, he hasn't been feeling like your best friend.

the hiss and pop of a can opening up draws your attention back to the present.

rin doesn't sigh when he swings a leg over the bench to sit beside you, but his posture tells you that he's in one of his usual moods again. grumpy, standoffish, weirdly fixated on becoming self-sufficient and strong as soon as possible — what a handful. he remains colder than the snow dusting the streets.

he passes you the drink and tucks his pale hands back into his jacket, settling down in the space beside you per your routine. even if he says getting "treats" after school every day is a waste of both time and money, he still follows you to the store the nice auntie next-door runs, always. habits are hard to break for a guy like him.

you thank him for the canned coffee you'd been heckling him to buy you during your entire walk here. you don't bother hiding your laugh from the face he makes when you receive the can with both hands either. your fingers are red from the cold, so you're more than happy to wrap them around your successful itoshi-rin-scam. you take a sip and watch him just sit in your periphery. you don't even like coffee, but you keep drinking it anyway. it burns your tongue.

the silence stretches. one second. then two, three, four — slowly twisting like balloons into animal shapes. there's a buzzing from somewhere beside you and your gaze flickers to a moth on the lamp hanging by the shop's entrance. its wings flutter in response to an imagined breeze, looking like eyes blinking back at your own uneasy stare. teal eyes don't blink back at you though.

rin's hand on your wrist is the only reason you don't flinch.

"y/n?" he asks, in that faux unaffected tone he always uses.

rin went missing a few weeks ago after a fight with his brother. apparently, sae had returned earlier than expected and met with rin by chance at your school's soccer field. something happened that led to rin running away into the trees and sae knocking at your door at 6 in the morning the next day. his voice, strangely hoarse, carried the same unbothered frost in rin's, but his red-rimmed eyes said everything he couldn't. it had been terrifying to listen to — rin ran off into woods when the snow was falling heavier than usual. sae had spent the better part of the night calling out for his little brother to come back, armed only with his phone's flashlight and a voice that was quickly losing itself to the dry cold. sae only stopped and went back home when a few of your neighbors came out to see what was going on. he almost looked ashamed, standing at your doorstep with red fingers and even redder eyes. he'd asked you to come with him and the rest of the adults to look for rin.

("he might come if you call."

"you're making him sound like a dog.")

obviously, you went.

you didn't find rin on the first day. not on the second either. not on the third, the fourth — it was hell for you and sae. the adults started whispering. the other kids slowly started to stop attending your searches. sae grew wearier and angrier with each passing day while you clung to an optimism that you'd find him eventually if you just kept looking harder. in the temporary absence of your best friend, you clung to the next best thing until you could hold his hand again. you can't read rin's brother very well, but even you can tell he didn't particularly enjoy your company. the feeling's mutual. you'd prefer rin over sae any day. you just want him back.

the ending was anticlimactic but a good one: rin came back on his own after a week of being lost. he doesn't have any memory of what he'd been up to despite the agitated concerns from the adults around him. he seemed much more focused on getting something to eat and sleeping in his bed. sae left the next day.

now, you're sitting with rin. on the bench you've both been frequenting since middle school after class. his hand on your wrist is ice cold. you've long outgrown your "childish" habit of handholding, but you offer anyway. teasing him is part of your routine too.

when he puts his hand in yours with no fuss and curls those pretty fingers around your palm, the buzzing stops.

he makes a comment about you being stupid for not bringing gloves, mindlessly squeezing your hand like he's trying to warm them without noticing. it's a thoughtful gesture. very sweet and fitting for a tsundere-type like rin.

rin hasn't held your hand like this since you were ten.

snow keeps falling around you. the cold sinks past the flimsy shield your blazer provided the longer you sit there. the hand still in rin's grasp is slowly warming up. your other remains wrapped around your cooling drink.

rin doesn't like holding your hand. he also knows you don't like coffee.

you find it hard to look away from his eyes. teal and cool, unlike anything in this small town. unique. unnerving.

uncanny.

it's like you're caught in an impromptu staring contest. rin doesn't blink so neither will you. your eyes sting from the dry cold, but you refuse to lose first. you relent and adjust to rin's moods on a daily basis, so little victories like these are important.

rin is important. so important to you. you want him back.

the question that's been clawing at your throat ever since rin returned slams against your ribcage, or maybe that's just your heart trying to beat out of your chest. he's always given you butterflies. you think the moth you saw earlier must've gone somewhere else. it's so quiet now.

you really, really hope you're wrong.

"hey, can i ask you something weird?"

[scarletwinterxx]

but on a wednesday in a cafe i watched it begin again - kim mingyu imagine

hiiiii - okay i'm so so so inlove with this one. may i say this is half inspired by real life scenarios haha anyways i hope you like it!

alsooo just a thought, would anyone want to be mutuals on X?

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

10 years ago

"Kyeom, I'm gonna go. I have assignments to do"

"What noooo, the game's just about to start" he mutters, he even kick feet like a little kid

"Then stay, but I'm going" you didn't even give him a chance to say anything because you're already out the gym doors. Your bestfriend used to your attitude at this point, he lets you be.

You pull your bag on your shoulders as you walk towards the school gates, some students were also on their way out since classes are done. Just as you were about to exit, someone calls your name making you look back.

When you spot who was calling you, confusion took over your face. Wondering why Kim Mingyu is here running after you when he should be inside with the basketball team.

"Hey, glad I caught you" he smiles at you.

Kim Mingyu, the guy who's known across all campus. He's the star student, all the teachers like him, he's never missed a class, he's good at studying, never the troublemaker, has a big circle of friends and an even bigger number of admirers from all across the school.

"What's up, do you need something?" you nonchalantly replied but that didn't deter him one bit

"Yea uh actually I wanted to ask you out" he scratches the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes as he waits for your answer

"Me?"

"Yea, I like you"

"Oh uh thanks. But I'm not really looking for that type of thing right now"

You watch the smile fall from MIngyu's face before it comes back again, it doesn't quite reach his eyes though. You notice.

"Oh"

"Yeah, sorry but uhm goodluck on your game though. I'm gonna go now" you wave goodbye before going your way. Not once turning to look back where Mingyu was left standing.

The rest of your high school life flew by like that. You still mostly kept to yourself, a few close friends, never really wanting to have any eyes on you. Mingyu never contacted you after that. You two acted like strangers once again, his confession something only you and him know.

Present Day

"Did you get the invite?" Dokyeom asks the moments he enters your apartment. After all these years, he's still your bestfriends. Most of your 'friends' from high school you've already lost contact with, you realized you were only friends with them only because you saw them everyday. Not many of them really made the effort to keep in contact, you can't blame them though since you didn't either.

But that's life. People come and go.

"For?"

"Our high school reunion, please tell me you're going"

"I did get it, and no I'm not going"

"What? Why? It'll be fun" he still does this thing where he stomps his feet like a kid when you say no to him, annoying but he's your bestfriend so you learned to put up with it.

"I don't even talk to anyone from high school apart from you"

"I'll be there, you can talk to me" he weakly reasons out, trying to plead with you is like trying to move a cement brick wall. He knows it's a losing battle but he still tries anyways.

"You won't stop bugging me unless I go, won't you?"

"You know me too well"

"Fine, but I'm not staying long"

"3 hours tops"

"2, take it or leave it"

Leave it to Dokyeom to make sure you're actually coming because by 5pm the day of the reunion, he came to your apartment even though you're taking your own car since you don't plan on staying as long as him.

"Oh you actually got ready" he says when you open the door

"I don't want another long message from you, let's go before I change my mind"

The two of you drove separately to the venue, as an introvert you admit when you got there you already want to go home. You see the familiar faces, already dreading the amount of small talks you have to do for the rest of the night. Cursing Dokyeom in your mind.

Your bestfriend didn't even give you a chance to step back inside your car before he's pulling you inside, saying hello to everyone on your way in. He's always been the nicer one between the two of you.

The two of you grab some snacks and drinks before continuing on meddling with your former schoolmates. Your social battery draining drastically by the second when you hear Dokyeom almost scream from beside you,

"Kim Mingyu! Yo dude you made it"

You look over where Dokyeom went, watching him give a bro hug to the guy. There Kim Mingyu stands, still as handsome as ever. A lot of years passed by but he still looks the same, just even better now.

The years have indeed been kind to him.

With everything happening around you, you can't help but feel overwhelmed. A few moments away from sneaking out but Dokyeom catches you once again before you can even give it a try

"Y/N's here too, you remember Mingyu right?"

You wanted to step on your bestfriend's shoes to make him shut up but instead you just shoot him a tight lipped smile before turning to the taller guy,

"Hi"

"Hey, it's been a while. I haven't seen you since... graduation"

"Yea, you too"

End of conversation.

You're still the same, Mingyu thinks. You're still the same girl he liked back then, you're still just as hard to read, still answering with single sentences, still beautiful like the day you broke his heart.

He wonders how you've been since then. Are you dating anyone or are you still out there breaking other guys' heart with your cold demeanor. He's still friends with Dokyeom and last he heard you've been doing okay. No mention of a boyfriend.

You don't give him a chance to ask any question, you say something to Dokyeom before walking towards the door

"Is she alright?" he can't help but ask

"Oh yea, she's being her usual self. It's a miracle I even got her to go tonight so I won't even be surprised if she's about to sneak home now, I'll just call her later"

"You two still close?"

"She's my bestfriend, dude. Of course we are, we're like twins ya know. Anyways how's the cafe going"

Mingyu hangs out with Dokyeom for the rest of the night, they didn't really run out of things to catch up on. He can't help but wonder how two very different people manage to stay close friends. But then again it's Dokyeom, one of the nicest guy he knows. At the end of the day, he's glad you're friends with someone like him.

The next day Dokyeom calls you to bombard you with stories about the reunion that you missed when you came home, he goes on and on about catching up with Mingyu then some other people from your batch you don't even talk to anymore but you listen anyways.

After the phone call, you get ready to go to work. You go on with your routine and before you know it you're done with your 9-5. That goes on for the rest of the week.

Some people hate it but you liked having a routine, it drives you crazy when things don't go your way.

Like tonight, your workmates all but forced you to come with them for afterwork drinks. You wanted to decline but you already done so many times so they made sure you come with them this time.

"Okay okay so what if you're in a room full of all the people you ever liked, who would you go to?"

Everyone take turns to answer until all head turns to you, "Oh me?"

"Yea, come on spill the details girlie we won't tell" one of your workmate jokes, clearly drunk

You take a few more seconds to think before you say your answer

"I guess this guy I rejected in high school"

"What? Oh my gosh whoooo, tell us tell us what happened" they excitedly ask

"Oh no big deal, just a guy. He was nice, like really nice. I liked that about him, but uh I guess high school me wasn't ready for any kind of commitment so I rejected him. I choose him because I want to apologize, that's all"

"Aw did you hear that? that's so cuteee"

"So where is he now?"

"I don't know, I never really kept in touch"

You grab your glass so you can avoid any more questions, after an hour to tell them goodbye since you still have to go to work tomorrow.

And as expected you woke up with a slight headache, even though you wanted to stay in bed for the day you know you can't. You get up and get ready for the day, planning to stop by this cafe your workmates keep on mentioning on your way to work.

Good things it's still early, when you got the cafe there were only a few people inside. You can smell the freshly brewed coffee and pastries on the stand.

"Next, Hi goodmorning what can I get you?"

"Hi, can I get an iced Vanilla Latte and a bagel with cream cheese to go? Thank you" you say your order while the cashier notes it down "Okay, for a moment I'll just get your order ready"

"Sure" you wait on the counter for your order, checking the other pastries and the menu board.

Mingyu was at the back, getting some stocks ready for the day when he spots someone on the counter. He had to do a double take to make sure it was you standing in his cafe, immediately a smile forming on his face as he watch you look at the display case.

You're too lost in your own world to notice him now standing Infront of you so he clears his throat to get your attention, "Can I get you something else, see anything you like?" he asks

He can see you weren't expecting to see him here, out of all places.

What in the twisted fate was this, you think to yourself.

"Oh uh the other barista already took my order" you tell him, Mingyu goes to the other guy telling him something before returning to the register with your order, "One iced vanilla latte and bagel with cream cheese, here you go. Anything else?" he asks again

"I think this is all for now, so how much?"

"On the house" Mingyu says with a smile, makes you wonder if he does this on a regular basis but you shake the thought away.

"What? No, come on I'll feel bad. Tell me how much" you tell Mingyu but he just shakes his head at you

"Free coffee for the pretty lady"

"Do you tell all your lady customers that?" you ask him, the words already out before you can stop yourself. You can feel your cheeks heat up but Mingyu just chuckles, again he shakes his head

"Just you, tell me next time how's our coffee and baked goods are then we'll call it even" he tells you, pointing at the suggestion box

"Are you sure? My workmates recommended this place and they said the coffee is good but I never really went with them" you tell him,

"You work close by?"

"A few blocks from here, I sometimes pass by here but it's always so busy. I guess I got lucky today"

All this time you were this close to where he was and he never knew. Mingyu mentally agrees with you, indeed it is a lucky day because for the first time since he met you you finally said more than one sentence to him.

17 year old Mingyu would be pouting and kicking his feet out of jealousy, he would never believe this day would come but here you are.

"Thank you for the coffee and food, uh see you around"

"You too, Y/N. It's nice to see you again" he smile again, you shoot him a small smile before going your way.

He watches you go out the door, the scene of you walking away hitting him like a Deja vu. A scene from 10 years go playing in head. Just as you were about to exit the door, to turn around to look at him behind the counter then shoot him another smile then you were gone.

This time though Mingyu wasn't left with a heart to mend but something to look forward to. Maybe just maybe this time it'll be his chance.

"You're down bad" Hoshi, his co-owner and other barista, says from beside him

"Huh?"

"Really?? Coffee for the pretty lady? so original" he laughs

"What? I never used that on anyone" Mingyu mumbles, "I know, that's why I said you're down bad. Who is she by the way?"

"Someone very special, call me when she comes back" he pats Hoshi on the shoulder before going to the back to resume his re-stocking duties.

Mingyu didn't want to expect (but he was), he would be lying if he didn't tell Hoshi he'd open tomorrow and man the register just in case you come in early again. He would be lying if he says he looked up every time the bell dings signaling another customer came in only it wasn't you.

It took you a few days before you visited again, and this time luck wasn't on Mingyu's side because he was not on duty.

"Hey, you're Mingyu's friend" Hoshi remembers you from the other day, greeting you with a big smile making his eyes almost disappear. He seems like a warm person, very friendly.

"Yeah, you can say that" you shyly answer him "Oh right sorry, what can I get you?"

"I'll get another iced vanilla latte. The last one you made was really good" you tell him

"Thanks, make sure to drop that inside our box" he jokes "Anything else?"

"Can you recommend any pastry for me to try? They all look so good"

"Honestly, not to be biased, everything's good here but that chocolate cake is extra special. Mingyu makes it himself everyday, want a slice?"

"Sure, sounds great"

Hoshi, you learn his name, goes and make your order like before then returns to the counter "Okay here you go, and the man says it's on the house"

"Huh?" you ask confused "Mingyu said it's on the house if ever you come back"

"Oh I can not not pay, he already said that the last time" you said, already getting your card out

"No really, he insists. And between us, I'd be in bigger trouble if I let you pay. If you want to scold him, feel free to do so and drop it in the box"

You chuckle, finally taking your drink and food "Thanks again, let me write something" you seat on a vacant chair to get a paper from inside your bag, writing a quick note before going back to the counter to drop it in the box. You say goodbye to Hoshi before going.

You feel your phone ring in your pocket, Dokyeom's name flashing on the screen "Barbeque later"

"Are you asking or are you telling me?"

"I'll come by after work" then he hangs up.

A few hours later, your bestfriend shows up with a few grocery bags and a loud mouth. You two catch up on what you missed on the few days you didn't get to talk, he likes staying up to date with your life even though nothing really ever happens. He's like the brother you never expected but you're now stuck with.

"Do you have any sweets here, chocolate or something" you hear him scrummaging through your kitchen

"I have a cake slice in the fridge"

Dokyeom finds it then walks back to the dining table, setting it in the middle to share between the two of you

"Oh gosh this is so good, where did you buy this?"

"At Mingyu's cafe, did you know he had one?" you ask back, Dokyeom's head springs up to look at you

"You went there? Mingyu did mention he had a cafe. So you two talked?"

"Yea he was there the first time I went, it was really nice the coffee is good. The other barista said Mingyu baked this" you tell him, taking another bite

"You know, you never told me why you rejected him"

Dokyeom suddenly mentioning that made you cough out loud, "You said you liked him right? Then all of a sudden you were telling me you rejected him"

"Are we really talking about this? It's been 10 years"

"Yea"

"Like I said, I didn't have the time and I got overwhelmed. Everyone knew who Mingyu was, I didn't want that kind of attention on me too. I guess 17 year old me got scared"

Dokyeom listens to you, watching you stab the piece of cake before taking a bite "For what it's worth, he really liked you back then. He even asked me what your favorites were, I said you liked cakes more than ice cream"

Back at the cafe, Mingyu comes in after Hoshi closes so he can start on baking tomorrow's batch of cake. He's in the kitchen getting the ingredients ready while Hoshi cleans the display case and front of the house.

He was humming to himself when he hears the kitchen door swing open, "Oh by the way Y/N dropped by today"

Mingyu forgets the number he was on, now he has to measure the flour all over again. He turns to look at his friend with an annoyed expression, Hoshi holds his hands in the air

"Hey don't blame me, not my fault she went here on your only day off. But I did say it's on the house courtesy of you, so you're welcome"

"Atleast you did something right" Mingyu says

"And she got the chocolate cake, she also dropped something in the box. Go check it when you're done, I'm going now" he waves goodbye before going to the office to do a few more things before leaving Mingyu alone at the shop.

He tries to focus first on what he's doing, going back to measuring the ingredients and putting it in the oven before going to the counter to get the box.

How will find your note here when there's about 30 others in here, he's not so sure. He reads through a few of them when finally he finds one

Coffee is great, maybe even better with company. On me next time I come back, thanks Gyu :)

He knows it's from you because of the nickname, a lot of people from highschool used to call him that. It may be common but it sounded extra special when you're the one calling him that. He takes the note and put it in his pocket before putting the others back.

Tonight's cake about to be extra good.

When Mingyu comes in the shop the next day he was expecting you to come, he wasn't going to lie about it this time.

It might seem silly but he never really got over his crush on you. There's something about you that he admired so much, even though people said you're the 'ice queen' with your stoic expression and one line answers he thinks you're just always straight to the point.

He never harbored hard feelings even after you rejected him, he understood your reasons. He knew you were focused on your studies but he just wanted to shoot his shot.

That day when he asked you, he already saw you in the gym before the game. He thought you were going to watch only for you to disappear a few minutes before they started, he chased after you with high hopes only to be handed his heart back in a few pieces. But even then he still liked you, he continued on admiring you from afar. Cheering you on your academic victories and cheering for you on your graduation day when you gave out your valedictorian speech.

He liked watching you achieve your goals, you always had that laser focus and determination. The entire class knew you deserved it.

Now a decade later, you're still the same in some ways. The night during the reunion party, he didn't expect to see you there. You didn't age a day, you still look so beautiful. You now carry this confident but reserved aura around you, he admits he was a bit intimidated to approach you so he thanks Dokyeom for being there.

The day passed by and still no sign of you, when he turns the open sign over to close he lets out the biggest sigh. Looking at the last slice of cake on the stand, ironically very similar to him. Waiting for you to come by.

He's busy mopping the floors to notice he didn't lock the front door, you just got out of work and decided to check if the cafe was still open. The sign said closed but you spot Mingyu inside so you try to knock on the glass door but he couldn't hear you so you let yourself in.

You walk closer to where he was before tapping him on the back making the tall man jump up in the air with mop in hand.

Mingyu turns around, holding his hand to his chest as he looks at you blinking back at him "Fuck you scared the shit out of me, sorry" he mumbles the apology after letting a few curses out

"Sorry, I didn't mean too. I knocked but you couldn't hear. Uhm is it a bad time?"

"No, I mean no it's good. I was just cleaning up. Do you want anything?" he asks you, putting the mop in the bucket before walking towards the counter with you following. He stands by the cashier while you stand on the other side

You spot the last piece of cake like it's calling your name, Mingyu following your gaze. Smiling to himself while he waits for your order.

"I'll get the last piece of chocolate cake, please. Hoshi recommended it yesterday and it was really food. Glad I got the last one" you smile

Little did you know he made that recipe with you in mind. He knew you liked chocolate cakes. "Chocolate cake coming up, anything else? Our cookies are good too, let me get some for you"

"As long as you let me pay for it"

"Not a chance, miss" Mingyu smirks, putting the remaining cookies in a box along with the cake before walking back to face you

"Not this again, you already got it for me the last few times I was here. How will you run a business if you keep on giving it out for free"

"I don't always do it" Mingyu shrugs

"Just let me pay please" you say giving him your card but he just pushes it back

"No"

"Mingyu"

He smiles, looking over at you. For a second you were taken back by his stare. The only way you can describe it was sweet, he looked so sweet like the cake he baked. He looked so soft and gentle like he wouldn't break a heart.

"Come back next time, I'll let you pay"

"You said that the last time"

"Then keep coming back, maybe one day I'll let you" he confidently tells you, the underlying message of wanting to see you again lies in the air. He holds his breath waiting for your next words,

"If you don't let me pay the next time, I won't come back" you threaten him cutely, finally taking the bag from him. Mingyu smiles walking to the other side to walk you out.

Before you reach the door you stop, "Actually, there's something I need to tell you" you turn to look up at him

"Go ahead, I'm listening"

You take a few seconds, again surprised with how he's staring right at you. Like he's seeing all of you.

"I would like to apologize for what happened before, you know the whole rejection thing. I know it's a bit overdue, actually it's very overdue but I've always wanted to say sorry. Someone asked me if I was in a room full of all the people I liked, who would I run to I said you. That's because I wanted to say sorry... so yea. I'm sorry" you mumble, now you're looking at his chest. Too shy to look at him

"You like me?" Mingyu mumbles

This make you look at him again, "That's all you heard?"

"I mean I appreciate the thought, apology accepted. Now back to my question.. I heard that right, right?"

"You're not wrong"

You and your one liner answers.

"So how many are there in the room" he asks, now he's teasing you. You can't help but scowl at him, rolling your eyes.

"It's a very short list and you're missing my point"

"No I get it, and no need to apologize. I respect your decision back then and I still do now. No need to say sorry over that, no hard feelings" he smiles at you.

Mingyu wanted to reach out and hold your hand but he stops himself. He didn't want to mess this again with you, if this is finally his second chance then he's not going to do anything to mess it up.

"I really am, it's been 10 years but I just wanted to tell you that. So yea.. that's uh that's all"

"Can I ask something?"

"What?" you ask back "Who else would be in the room with me, do I know the others"

"Oh my gosh! It's a very short list"

He laughs at your answer, reaching up to tuck the loose hair than fell on your face behind your ear.

"I believe you, tell me about it next time you get coffee"

"Seriously making me rethink about coming back here" you pout, this made Mingyu's heart pound like crazy. A hundred shots of espresso got nothing on you. Only you can make him feel this way, so alive.

"I'll bake you a cake" he bargains

"Chocolate?"

"All yours, on the house"

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #24

Diavolo: I think we as a species should go back to saying “alas”

Leviathan: It’s like “yikes”�� but with culture

Simeon: Yikes, poor yorick!

•

Leviathan: Guys I just realized the last supper was the first murder mystery dinner!

MC: My Roman Catholic parents did not find this as funny and thought provoking as I did

•

Solomon: I will cast a spell to make you have a good day

It is done

Raphael: Burn the witch

•

Solomon: There are five frogs staring at me right now

Asmodeus: But only one can be America’s next top model

•

MC: Bone massage…I want soft bones

Thirteen: No you don’t, bitch

MC: *jiggles and flops towards you* what? Huh?

•

Asmodeus: I have HRE (Hopeless Romantic Energy)

Solomon: I have HRE (Holy Roman Empire)

Beelzebub: Hambu Rg Er

•

Luke: Um u “like classical music” but you can’t even name any 2012 one direction songs? Okay

Mammon: This post physically hurts

Leviathan: Looks like we got a fake fan here fellas

Raphael: *sighs* should we exorcise them or just simply baptise them?

Leviathan: Are you calling me fat?

•

Mammon: You know what? I like you guys

Luke: Hey thanks! Can’t say the same for you

Mammon: I will chew the legs off your chair

•

Leviathan: I can’t be trusted with a large stick

Lucifer: You simply aren’t strong enough to handle the power of the stick

Leviathan: The power of the stick corrupts my mind with thoughts of bonk

•

MC: I swear to god middle school is a terrible concept. You trap all the angriest, most hormonal teens at their angriest age in a box and let them fight to the death and then Ms. Allen, the bitch makes you learn MATH, right after you got done watching two kids shank each other in the bathroom, like I can’t focus on this is just saw to kids go gladiatorial combat in front of people pissing

Diavolo: You live in the US don’t you

MC: OBVIOUSLY

•

Leviathan: Imagine if we all just started ignoring celebrities tho

Solomon: I can’t stop thinking about how funny this would be. Imagine Kylie Jenner posting a selfie n it gets 12 likes

•

Mammon: Country road

Leviathan: Let’s-a-go

Solomon: It’s-a-me

Luke: Mario

Satan: I admire and hate this simultaneously

Belphegor: Mamma miaaaaaaaa

•

Belphegor: Sometimes I think it would be beneficial to my self-growth to get lost in a cave for 7 days, surviving on moisture algae and my own thoughts until I find a dim light against the black stone and make my escape. I think I’d figure some shit out in a cave like that.

Mammon: That is WEIRDLY specific

Diavolo: I can arrange this

•

Leviathan: I don’t understand, are are you implying being trans in better than being a Kpop star?

Asmodeus: I’m not implying it, I’m saying it explicitly

Satan: This post feels like when you’re walking down a street and catch a glimpse of a conversation. What the fuck lead up to this?

•

MC: Behind every girl boss is another bigger girl boss

Leviathan: They call this a pyramid scheme I think

Mammon: I think they prefer the term MLM

Asmodeus: I think you’re thinking of wlw

Mephistopheles: Wulti level Warketing scheme

Thirteen: Good work, gals

Last • Next

[inotaku-talkz]

ooo! I have a req! The Mouthwashing crew if they found out their younger sibling (gn and around the age of 8 tho u can change the age part) was a stowaway on the Tulpar and they’re (stowaway) there bcuz they didn’t want their sibling (a member of the crew) to leave!

my oc: hey, eight year old stowaway? That sounds like me! That’s cool!

Me: yeah.. really cool isn’t it?.. until you die.. *pats oc’s head*

oc: wha-

me: what?

(Sry for that unnecessary addition I’m bored-)

A/N: I usually don’t write for Jasquire buttttt this will be a VERY RARE case. Thanks for requesting! Also, I changed around the ages and the family. Maybe I’ll do a second part with and the crash?

LITTLE STOWAWAY!

Mouthwashing Imagine!

warnings: yimpy, hint of daisuke x reader in Swansea’s part

It’s an early meeting when this crew member walks into the common area and is immediately greeted with the sight of their younger .

Who is supposed to be back on earth, not in the middle of god knows where in space!

Swansea: Grandchild (18)

Now, why the hell is he staring at his grandkid in space?! His daughter is so going to kill him.

“Eh? The hell you doing here, squirt?!” You hear your grandfather say.

“What? I wanted to tag along this time.” You say matter-of factly.

Swansea groaned. You act exactly like your mother.

Makes you sleep in the med bay

gives you chores on the tulpar

VERY suspicious of you and his intern…

Gets very annoyed when you complain about no internet

“Ugh…having no WiFi sucks..”

“Kids these days…”

Anya: Sibling (16)

She cups your face and turns it different angles. “Oh my goodness, what are you even doing here?”

“I didn’t want you to go! So I snuck out for you, big sis!” You pry her hands off of you.

“Why? It’s so dangerous up here!” She lightly bonks your head.

Stays with you at all

Lets you hang out with Daisuke, seeing he’s closest to your age

Teaches you basic med first administration, whether you’re listening or not

“Hey! Were you even listening to me?”

“I was!”

“Oh, then time for a quiz.”

”Fuck.”

Curly: Cousin (10)

He is absolutely fuming right now.

“You should be on earth right now.” He’s crossing his arms across his chest. Disappointment evident in his eyes.

“But, Uncle Cur—“

“But, Uncle Curly nothing.”

Very strict with you

Doesn’t let you wander the tulpar

gets upset when Daisuke and Anya baby you

He may seem cruel but he wants you to be safe

Jimmy: Cousin (10)

”You little shit, the hell you following me for?” He snarls at you. You deadpan, rolling your eyes at his attempted aggression.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to hang out with my uncle.

Ignores you

The crew mostly cared for you

Finds you annoying and a waste of space (literally)

Daisuke: Sibling (8)

“Fuck! Mom’s going to kill me, man!” Those are the first words your older brother says, fingers tugging at his scalp.

You cling to your older brother’s flailing leg, giggling.

“It’s okay! Mom thinks I’m on a school trip for a week!”

“Fuck!”

Makes sure that he’s near you at all times

teaches you some of the he learned on the Tulpar

he’s really happy when you get along with Swansea

i feel like you start getting sick due to being exposed to space at a young age

“Daisuke…I’m sleepy..”

“No, no. If you sleep, then mom will make you scrub the floors with your feet.” Daisuke soothes your boney, shaky form. Your big brother is always so strong.

but deep down, he’s freaking out!