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spdrwdw · 2 months

Note

hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name.

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies.

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going.

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family.

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with.

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world.

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men.

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose.

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together.

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara.

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home.

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head.

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated.

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever!

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape.

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them.

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him.

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were.

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid.

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other.

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats.

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you.

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other.

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection.

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending.

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent.

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you.

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all.

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor.

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message.

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes?

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him.

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes.

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him.

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet.

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door.

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them.

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son.

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions.

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot.

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked.

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot.

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses.

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body.

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted.

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him.

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave.

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there.

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track.

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story.

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one.

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times.

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong.

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her.

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there.

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house.

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come.

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband.

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact.

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt.

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you.

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands.

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit.

“What?” You questioned.

“What are you wearing?”

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress.

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked.

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over.

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time.

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage.

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two.

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone.

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus.

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes.

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see.

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him.

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel.

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty.

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader.

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table.

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat.

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation.

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though.

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly.

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man.

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone.

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers.

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables.

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him.

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible.

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night.

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you.

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic

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vendetta-ari · 2 months

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Your fav anon is backkkkk! Hey Love! May I request a Vox (and you can include Lucifer too) x Artist (f!) reader headcannons? As I’ve said before, take your time! ♡ ♡

UGHH OH MY FUCKIN GOD IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO GET TO YOUR ASK BRO ILYSM ANON TYSM FOR YOU PATIENCE UR FRFR MY FAV ANON ♡♡♡

anyways, here Luci + Vox x artist reader

Lucifer

~ Lucifer and you always create and paint things together, he loves your creativity and he adores your art

~ You and Luci exchange ducks on special days, like valentine's day, Christmas, and birthdays.

~ You always exchange art tips with each other, bother being artists and your own unique ways.

~ Many times you have painted Lucifer's ducks for him when he's feeling down.

~ You two took a picture on your anniversary and you printed it out and painted it, he hangs it up on his wall and he always says its “The best thing I've ever, ever owned my dear!” he always gets all cheery and smiles when he sees it

~ You paint lucifers nails for him, last time you made a lil duck design on them

~ People can always tell when you two have been hanging out because the two of you are all giggly and smiling covered in paint

~ You painted a mural in his room, an apple using both his and your favorite colors

~ you give all your art pieces to Luci, you tried to sell one of them and the poor guy almost cried

~ he's basically drowning in your paintings and all your artwork, he doesn't mind at all though. although he is running out of space…

~ whatever he'll just expand his room to fit more of your work.

~ you have forced Lucifer to let you do makeup on him, he wasn't too happy but you laughed your ass off at his annoyance and makeup covered face

~ He cant stay mad at you for too long though, when your mad at luci you'll grab one of his ducks and paint them a different color completely and rub paint off some off his other ducks

~ when you finally calm down you repaint all for them with him though, as an apology.

~ the two of you often take walks through the rings of hell for inspiration

~ surprisingly, the screams of everyone being tortured is great to get those creative juices flowing

Vox

☆ Now let's be for real here guys, Vox can't draw for shit, so him being with an artist reader is kinda cute and unique and funny

☆ But you on the other hand, “your art is beautiful! n’ it should be hung up in a museum or something like that doll, I seriously dunno how you do it”

☆ During certain shows where they need sets, props, or anything related to that, you'll be the one painting them being the first to volunteer you totally didn't draw a dick kn one of the sets and embarrass him on live television pft- noo psh- hah why would you ever do such a thing? it must've been val!

☆ You couldn't keep your laughter when Vox drew that picture of Alastor when be was throwing his hissy fit on live television

☆ you redraw a picture of Alastor for Vox to tear up crumble and kick around as a stress reliever

☆ Vox realized that you drew a picture of Alastor, didn't matter what it was for you still drew him, just then he got angry again and demanded that you draw a picture of him

☆ just one more thing to stroke his ego I suppose

☆ You and velvette are besties, she often steals you away from Vox so you two can draw up outfits

☆ and he totally doesn't ever never get mad at her because of that

☆ You often draw in a red and blue journal Vox gave you as a gift once, it was in a whim but you still love it dearly

☆ you draw pictures of him and you together with little hearts around them, but vox doesn't need to know that

☆ but one time he did look through your journal, out of curiosity. trying to hide the blush that spread across his face, he grabbed a pen and wrote little messages on a few of your doodles "Didn't know she was that obsessed with me" he mumbled under his breath while flipping through the pages

☆ “We're gonna recreate this photo tomorrow, meet me at my office in 4:00 dollface” -Vox

☆ when you noticed the note you almost lost your mind fangirling over this TV man

☆So you did as you were told and met him at his office, getting there a little bit early

☆ And just like that he picked you up and carried you bridal style to his chair, kissing you softly all over, with you giggling and blushing, creating your drawing perfectly.

-xoxo, Ari

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #fluff #romantic #hazbin hotel romantic #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer morningstar

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princesssmars · 7 months

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another one of my dreams that i have to write out because it flabbergasted me and two of my friends. but this time about hazel from bottoms.

ok, reader is the new girl at school. in my dream i was kind of a loser (accurate) but because i can write what i want (and i've read @ptolemaeacles cheerleader headcanons ten times) im changing it.

so reader is trying out to be cheerleader! it helps you make a few friends, isabel being the best one because she’s amazing, beautiful, and a little weird in a really endearing way. she finds you interesting, given your natural talent for dancing and how despite doing vulgar dance moves on the football field, off of it you can be a shy and sweet person!

because of this isabel, brittany and you are pretty much always together. and since they're popular and seen everywhere, that means you are seen everywhere!

which means hazel cant take a fucking break.

walking to sit with pj and josie during lunch and means almost having a heart attack when she sees you handing out flyers for the next school event, looking so ethereal in your cheer uniform she nearly trips over herself.

or when every morning she sits two rows over from you in math class, not so sneakily staring at you for minutes at a time while doing her worksheets.

despite being close to a genius, she thinks there's no way in hell you have ever noticed her. never seen the way your eyes will drift to her when she's sitting in the bleachers while, you're practicing, how you're heart will race when the teacher is calling names for project partners with the chance that the brunette could be in your group.

so sure you had a crush that was going nowhere, but you had a nice bunch of new friends, so people we're starting to like you!

all except one.

mrs. fucking barnes.

for whatever reason, your second period english teacher had decided on your first day to make your senior year a living fucking hell.

put a good amount of effort into an essay? you get a d minus!

want to share a comment you had about the book the class is reading? shut up silly, jeff is going to popcorn read and stutter over a basic sentence!

but one friday, you decided to skip class and the next week she went ballistic.

now, since moving to town, you had noticed that the people here were a little odd, regularly seeing a normal interaction or conversation go to the extreme in seconds.

so, when you're hovering over the toilet in the girls bathroom, a small thought in your brain that loves to say what if's asks: what if somebody bursted in here right now?

when you finish and stand up to pull your jeans up, only to be interrupted when the stall doors bust open with a loud bang! you think for split second that god can literally hear your thoughts and is making you pay for whatever sins you've committed.

those sins must have been fucking murder to make up for how mortified you felt standing in a cramped girls bathroom stall, your pants down with three people staring at you/

the first, mrs. barnes, wearing a look thats a mix between anger and regret.

the second is nettie brown, a girl you recognized from your art class who you remember complimented your heels and you did the same for her coat.'

and then, standing in front the sinks with eyes that look as big as fucking saucers, hazel callahan herself.

your brain catches up to your body and you manage to splutter out a string of curses and yells, forcing the door back closed as the teachers splutters out an excuse about someone telling her you had started doing weed in the bathrooms.

you hear her and some more shoes shuffling out of the bathroom, taking a minute to gather your bearings before you leave the bathroom. when you open the door again you rest your hands on the counter, your eyes closed as you take a breath. when you look up to your reflection, in your peripheral you see a figure standing awkwardly at the back of the bathroom, blue eyes avoiding looking at you.

"hazel?" you ask under your breath, turning around to look at her dead on. she flinches to attention like a child called to attention.

"uh...i just wanted to make sure that you were alright, what she did was really fucked up."

"oh," you mouth, grateful that after something so embarrassing this girl who you barely knew was waiting in a crappy bathroom to make sure you were alright. if it was possible your crush on her just grows. "thank you. that means a lot to me."

her face lights up so brightly you think it could light up a city.

"no problem! i mean, really who cares that much about weed, anyway? i've never cared about bush anyway-"

the room gets silent.

as she quickly rushes out an apology and leaves, all you can think about is how its weird you've been shocked like this twice in a span of ten minutes, and that you have got to ask hazel callahan on a date.

i made this a lot cuter than it was in my dream. i was in the bathroom, looking at these really nice coats on the counter ?? when the door opened, hazel just said "y'know ive never minded bush" and the sheer confusion made wake up.

i put my senior year english teacher in here because. i still hate that bitch.

#bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #bottoms x reader #hazel #hazel callahan #hazel x reader #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you

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sporeblossom · 1 year

Text

logging back onto this website to say that while i dont think (???) it was intentionally done, the scene before their "last day" where frank is working on a portrait of bill, reminded me of keith haring's "unfinished painting"

comparison here before i explain:

keith haring's painting was purposely made to look incomplete. haring was diagnosed with HIV in late 1988, and died in early 1990, at the age of 31. the painting is a self portrait, hitting us with the gut-punch reality of how the aids-epidemic robbed haring of the right to finish his own story. the overwhelming amount of empty space is a glaring reminder that haring didn't just have a short life, he had an incomplete one. the piece points to all that empty space and says: this should have been filled out. this should all have been my art, my story, and my space. by claiming this empty space, haring claimed the empty space of his unlived life, that was taken from him and so many other people, by a negligent and homophobic society that refused to care about the pandemic ravaging an entire community worldwide.

now back to my original point: like i said, im really not sure if this was intentionally done by the show. but when i was watching this episode and i saw this scene, i immediately thought of this painting. the blue color of the eye trailing off onto the blank part of the canvas is, at least to me, a strong visual parallel.

and i feel like this visual parallel highlights some very important thematic parallels as well, which deserve to be talked about. in the show, the outbreak starts in 2003 which means that bill and frank have both lived through the aids-epidemic. they have seen people like them die. they have experienced the hatred and isolation that came with it. you could speculate and read into things ad nauseaum, but i thinks it's safe to say that in this place and time, this also plays into how careful and hesitant they are, when they first start to show intimacy with each other. in their world, they didn't even get to experience the legalization of gay marriage.

seeing as this show takes place during another, fictional, pandemic, airing at a time where the real world has just faced another actual pandemic, it is impossible to ignore this aspect of their story.

these two characters however, are not destroyed by the outbreak in the show. they find each other, they experience freedom, love, and a full life together. their life is not cut short.

in an absurd twist of fate, when the rest of the world is finally forced to experience what it's like to be abandoned by your government during a devastating epidemic, this is when these two people find happiness. they get to go running, and have fights, and grow strawberries, and have friends over for dinner.

and after spending nearly twenty years together, frank spends his last time working not on a self portrait, but on a portrait of bill, the love of his life. this is the sort of thing that rightfully should have filled the empty space of haring's work. finding love(s) spending your time together, that is a life lived.

and yet frank's painting is unfinished, because of course we are never truly done living. we are never truly done loving. but he got so much more time, so much more story, than the people we lost to the aids epidemic, which the trailing off blue paint reminds us of.

at the same time their house is absolute filled with all the paintings that frank did finish, showing us all the good days he got with bill. and in a way, i feel like that is the show being very aware of what it is: a complete, beautiful story about two men loving each other, in a world that sorely lacks these stories. a world where we had so many unfinished, incomplete lives, that we lack an entire generation of older gay men.

and even though i was completely reduced to tears by the end of this episode, the ending still filled me with some sort of mournful joy. because yes, even though it was incredibly sad to see their last day, these two men got to fill so much of their empty space. they got to experience love, and they got to live their life. like bill says: "im old. im satisfied. and you were purpose."

so many people didn't get that. keith haring didn't get that. a whole generation of queer people didn't get that. that makes this episode so much more moving for me, because it is not just an incredibly beautiful love story, but it is an incredibly beautiful love story that the world should rightfully have seen millions more of. but all those lives were incomplete.

so with the undeniable, but unspoken, presence of the aids epidemic in the narrative of these characters, this visual reference to keith haring and aids, purposeful or not, is incredibly meaningful.

#alright bye i just had to write all this down!!#tlou spoilers #tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #bill and frank #the last of us episode 3

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ghouljams · 5 months

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im so curious.... what wouldve happened if bee knew those were königs bugs? like does he go full kidnapper? saying she just up and left to the people who ask, meanwhile shes barely waking up tied nice and comfortably secure to a bedpost in a somewhat familiar bedroom

im always down for some darker content<3

OK UH problem here is that Bee is insane and reads exclusively dark romance. I wanted this to be dark but she is so silly, and charming. König is charmed. That's why he kidnapped her. You know, once again you're not trapped with him, he's trapped with you. This isn't canon...

If you'd put the pieces together, if König had said something a little more suspicious, what other choice would he have had but to take you home? You try to ask him why he bugged your home, who he's working for, but he's fast and something sharp stings your neck.

You wake up in a room with bars on the windows and a nasty hangover. The sun is too bright through the gauzy curtains. You snuggle deeper under the heavy blankets, hug your arms tighter around your pillow and try to remember what you drank last night. Except you didn't drink anything you remember with a start. König hit you with something. You force your eyes open and sit up to take in the room. It's nice, cozy. Heavy blankets cover the bed, plush throws and old quilts. Thick carpets hide the wood floors you know flow throughout König's house. There's art on the walls, a bookshelf, an armchair.

This place is way nicer than the cells the leads in your favorite books get thrown into. You sniff, rub at your sleep laden eyes, as you take stock. This is just like when Rebessica got kidnapped by Dextros in "Kidnapped by a Crime Boss". You should probably be more panicked than you are, but the splitting headache makes it hard to think that far ahead. They never mention that part in the books.

You know if König wasn't a fed this might be hot. You always wondered what it would be like to be kidnapped by a guy who was so in love with you it bordered on obsession. You knew it was too good to be true, a handsome cowboy living next door to you, doting on you. You should have known he was a CIA plant. Weird they'd make him German, but you suppose it works for him. There's a button next to the bed, right next to the lamp. You hardly hesitate before pushing it.

König opens the door a second later, you wonder if he was waiting for you. "Can I have some asprin?" You ask, "And do we have time for coffee before you give me to the cops, or..." König blinks at you. You can see the gears turning behind his eyes grind to a halt.

"What? Why would the police be involved?" He makes no move to get you anything for the headache. Cruel and unusual punishment.

"You're a fed? I assume?" You pick at the bedspread, "Tellin' me you're retired, getting me to lower my guard, bugging my house, I thought you liked me."

"What?"

"And I want my phone call. I won't say a word without my lawyer present." You cross your arms over your chest to stare him down. König looks like he's completely lost.

"I am retired." He tells you, picking up at least part of your griping.

"You're holding me prisoner," You remind him, in case he forgot. His eyes dart away from you, glancing at the room before landing on you again.

"A very cute prisoner." He tries. You're not buying it. His expression changes, hardens into something cruel and unreadable. You shiver, some sick excitement dripping down your spine. "This is for your own good Schatz, it's dangerous for you to be on your own, and I couldn't have you trying to leave me after you found-"

"Oh I wouldn't leave you over that," You cut him off. König deflates a little, stalks into the room so you're forced to tip your head back to look at him. He looms over you, menacing.

"What?"

"Bugging me, you're not with any government or police force, right?" He nods slowly. "Then I don't see what the big deal is, I bugged you."

"You what?" The tone in König's voice is dangerous. You really don't thin he should be so upset about that, turnabout is fair play.

"Put a worm on your phone, keystroke tracking, location tracking, app usage, battery data-" König holds up a hand to stop you, taking a deep breath.

"Ok," He feels out the word, absorbing the new information. You take the moment to push the blankets back, he put you in pjs, they're cute. This should not strike you as romantically as it does. It's just like one of your books, awww. Your forum friends are going to freak over this. You watch König process, as much as you think this is kinda hot you really should feed your cat.

"Can I go home now, or do you want the worm off your phone?" You ask, as sweet as you can manage. König hums.

"You're not mad."

"You like me enough to kidnap me," You giggle, kicking your feet, "it's kind of cute." The look of horror on König's face is quick but noticeable. He pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves a sigh.

"We need to talk about the books you are reading meine Liebe," He shakes his head, "Ja, alright, run along home. I'll be by later to check on you."

"I know," You grin, "You have it on your calendar, including walk time."

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zzoguri · 7 months

Text

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

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

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

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

word count ➵ 10k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER ONE: LOVE LABORS LOST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Y/N, majoring in Psychology.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER TWO: LITTLE WOMEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this you speaking from experience?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER THREE: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER FOUR: EMMA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❑ yes ❑ no </3

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER FIVE: SONNET 18

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER SIX: SO TIRED BLUES

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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thebluester2020 · 22 days

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The Stranger [Pt.1]

Summary: You were a citizen of Natlan. In the nation of the Pyro Archon, you were constantly greeted by bloodshed and violence. A life that kept the finely tuned forces of the nation in balance until it completely shattered with the arrival of the Fatui. And you had the newly arrived Harbinger to thank for that...but, one fateful night it seems, you just happened to stumble upon a man who could possibly throw the Fatui out of your homeland entirely.

Warning(s): Wholesomeness sprinkled around, Il Capitano is a bit of a liar here, eventual smut, Imagined Natlan(?) (Obviously the nation isn't out yet so I'm using my imagination as to how things are + how the people function lol), good ol' angst at the end.

Note(s): I adore fics where the Fatui are kinda shady so I decided to add my two cents in. I didn't want to risk making this too long so I'll make a part 2 to this eventually! (Im also trying to get back into the swing of fanfic-writing so excuse any errors y'all!)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"You don't belong here."

Those were the first words you said to the imposing figure whom you had found hidden away in the depths of a charred forest in Natlan. A nation where the earth pulsed with the lava that flowed just underneath the surface and volcanos oozed lava just about everyone one could see. Symbols of Natlan's fiery beating heart that those from other nations were too fearful to touch much less come close to at least...aside from the Fatui.

They arrived in your homeland about four months ago, led by a mysterious leader who was said to have been a monster in battle. Who wielded his weapon as easily as his own limb and tore through the battlefield as fiercely as a rampaging Fire Bull. It was the Fatui's 4th strongest Harbinger, Il Capitano, and you wouldn't deny that hearing the best warriors of Natlan describe him like that...it sent a fearful shiver down your spine.

If there was anything this nation prided itself on, it was the chaotic change and the delicate art that could be found in war.

An outsider mastering that art better than the residents of your own nation? You weren't much of a fighter yourself, you could just about swing a sword but you weren't on the leagues of those who were renowned fighters or those who regularly participated in duals, but...with the arrival of the Fatui and hearing how they've ransacked and pillaged villages?

Tearing apart families and using people's weaknesses to the cold against them.

You wanted to help.

This is how you found yourself in the present now, peeking out just a little from behind a tree as you watched the stranger practice his swordsmanship now suddenly regretting the words that escaped your lips recklessly. Although, it seemed like the stranger hadn't paid you any mind.

You stepped out from your hiding spot a little more, your eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You don't belong here." You repeated.

It was then that the stranger ceased his practice, the act of him plunging his sword into the rocky soil making you jump a little. You expected him to say something back to you, maybe some words of trying to shoo you away or that you were interrupting his practice but...as you shifted a little underneath the awkward silence. You took the opportunity to look the stranger over.

The stranger was tall, big enough to give the large bulls of this land a scare. He had broad shoulders like a great oak and wore rather simple clothing despite training with a weapon, a black button-up with some black pants, his outfit similarly colored to his otherwise dark navy hair before...it was all topped off with that strange mask he wore on his head, one that didn't reveal his features and made it seem like his face was nothing but an empty black void.

You cleared your throat. "Who are you?" You finally asked.

You could've sworn you heard a shocked gasp from the man before his head slowly tilted to the side. "...You don't know who I am?"

You raised your brow. "Am I supposed to?" To which the stranger cleared his throat but he shook his head.

"No," He answered before he plucked his weapon from the ground and went back to battling one of the trees.

His swordplay was magnificent, his weapon was about as big as he was yet he wielded it as efficiently as a thief would a knife! You pitied the poor soul who had the unfortunate luck of coming across the stranger in battle. "You wield your weapon well." You complimented.

No response.

"Graceful, effective. You should be a part of Natlan's warriors rather than fighting against a tree, you could possibly thwart the invading Fatui."

Once again, he stopped, sparing you a glance. "The Fatui won't leave."

"Not with that attitude and you fighting in a dead forest."

The stranger let out a heavy sigh as he plunged his sword into the ground once more. "The Fatui are mightier than you think, they've bested Natlan's best warriors with ease."

"And you could help stop them!"

The stranger scoffed, shaking his head. You were certain that he may have thought of you as a too-hopeful fool but, what else was there in be in these times of strife? Where Fatui were spreading further and further out? You were just lucky enough that they hadn't happened upon your village yet! But...it was only a matter of time, and quite frankly? With your village being composed of nothing more than elderly folk with their grandchildren. You were searching for any way possible to be able to try and protect your village.

You sighed. "Look, we- we don't have time to lose ourselves to hopelessness. Everyone who is a skilled fighter-"

"Needs to help?" The stranger finished for you, crossing his arms. "If you believe helping or thwarting the Fatui is the right thing to do then you forget one of the teachings of the Pyro Archon."

Your jaw dropped a little. You weren't a devout priest but you understood her words well enough! "Okay Mister Know-It-All, what am I forgetting?"

"The Principles of Change." He said. "Chaos who begets fire and war. For she is the instructor of the two as to how to best enact her will."

You flushed as one of the teachings came to mind all of a sudden. But...although change was indeed chaotic. That didn't mean that it had to be at the loss of countless lives and the awakening threat of your people possibly being turned into nothing but slaves for the Fatui! You'd rather die than see that reality happen.

You dared to place a gentle hand on the man's forearm. "Chaos working to forward change doesn't have to bring needless death. Please." You begged. "You could help, save countless people even!" You felt any semblance of hope for keeping your village safe shatter when the stranger walked away from you, the rest of your words catching in your throat before you looked at your feet, gulping down a round of tears that threatened to surface.

You sighed. "...Alright then," You said, looking back up to see the man tearing his sword from the ground before he began to walk off. "I-If you change your mind, come find this forest again and head west! You'll find my village!"

You were certain your words fell on deaf ears.

It had been a few days since you had last visited the forest. On some nights, you were certain you could hear the faint sound of a sword colliding with a tree but you never went to investigate. Instead of focusing your efforts on trying to make sure that your village was as safe as possible when you'd go out for food and supplies, you'd always take a more confusing path back just in case someone was following you. When you talked at the market about your village, you simply said that you lived a solitary life in the mountains in hopes that, if someone did check, they'd be met with disappointment.

It seemed to be working so far.

Things were as peaceful as could be- "Hm?" You hummed aloud at the sound of someone knocking at your door.

As you walked through your house, you grabbed a dagger off of a nearby weapons rack, holding a hand behind you as you went to the door. "Who is it?!"

"Me," A familiar voice that you thought you'd never heard. You nearly dropped your weapon as you rushed to open the door.

At the sight of the stranger, you nearly beamed ear-to-ear. "Y-You're here! You came."

"Simply because I need a place to rest my feet for a while, your village was the closest." The stranger said as he had to bend down a considerable amount just to fit through your door. Thankfully, he left his weapon at the front door as he wandered through your home, the sight of such a large man trying to maneuver and avoid bumping into things could have almost been considered comedic had it not been for the-

"Blood?" You wondered aloud when you spotted it on the back of his cape.

"...Fatui enemies."

You smiled. "Ah, well, seeing as there's only a little. I'm certain you handled yourself quite well." When the stranger had finally taken a seat in your living room, on one of the larger pillows, he had quickly taken off his cape before he folded it.

"Hopefully you would have considered my offer? Of trying to push back the Fatui?"

"No," He said. "Besides, the forces of Natlan's warriors are weakening. No matter how strong you may think I am. I won't be able to change anything on my own."

"Well...then what if I help?"

You pouted when he chuckled. "Absolutely not, you couldn't even sneak up on me. What could you do against an army?"

"I never said I had to fight them front and center! I could learn to use a bow-" Suddenly, the stranger pulled you closer by your arm, staring you down before he looked you over. You couldn't pinpoint why but...whatever made you begin to blush by him looking you over, you didn't exactly dislike it.

"I think...you're better off here. Keeping your house warm and village safe, there's not many safe places. The last thing I'd want is for my one safe place to disappear."

You gently shook your arm from his grip as you looked away in embarrassment.

"Oh please, I'm not some housewife...besides, I don't even know your name."

"That's because my name isn't important. It's a shameful name that...I wouldn't dare curse you to hear." You raised your brow, not important? You wondered why. "But, I would like to know the name of the beautiful person who owns this place."

"Oh!" Your eyes widened, a soft smile gracing your features. "Y/N...but, it really isn't a shame that I can't know your name. Much less see whose behind the mask."

"I've done a lot of things but the last thing I'd do to you is defile your eyes by my face."

You crouched down beside him, chuckling a little. "You have a bit of an attitude but, I doubt whatever you look like could scare me."

He looked away "How flattering."

A comfortable silence fell between you two. You were still curious about the stranger who currently sat in your house, who had managed to find your village despite only meeting him once a few days ago. But...you supposed it was fairly easy to overlook things. After all, it was rather easy to become lonely in a house that you shared all on your lonesome.

"So...where are we going?"

"Foraging."

"Foraging for what?"

"Things,"

"Things like what?"

A smirk crept onto your lips when the stranger only groaned in response to your endless questions. Yet, you found no malice in it. The two of you had been growing closer as of late, at the start of every day. He'd leave for a few hours to train in the forest, commanding you not to follow him while assuring you that he would be back later. So far, he hasn't failed to live up to his words.

But...as of recently, the three days or so, he'd been coming home with gits. Sometimes it was flowers, other time money for you to buy things that you've been eyeing for a while or food! When he'd come back from his training, the two of you would talk about the day and what you'd both experienced. You'd have dinner prepared and he'd have a gift for you, as well as a story to "keep you entertained" as he'd like to put it.

It was rather domestic.

Each time the man brought you a gift, the foreign warm and full feeling in your chest would only grow.

"Do not be so nosy," He said, gently nudging you with his own body. "You'll enjoy foraging these flowers, I think they'd look nice in your home."

"Our." You corrected, causing him to slow down a little before he looked down at you.

"Our?"

You nodded your head. "Technically, right? You always return back there, did you even have a home before you met me?" You teased.

Immediately, the man looked away again with a grumble. "I did and do...but your home is closer. I...like it." From that comment alone, you could've sworn that the warm feeling in your chest...as well as your fondness for the man who you didn't even have a name to put to yet, the feeling grew just a little bit more.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Link to Part 2

#smut #requests #requests open #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #il capitano #tartaglia #zhongli #writing #writing requests #creative writing #writeblr #genshin tartagalia #genshin fatui #fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin impact fatui

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