#and i’m still not going to all of my classes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eelliotss · 2 days ago

Text

— Borrowed time

‼️Caleb x reader. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!

Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely doesn’t stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.

“Can’t we just enjoy the moment without making things complicated?”

word count = 5.3k

i poured my soul into this pls be kind 😭

The fresh scent of flowers lingered in the air as a cool breeze rushed past you. You tucked your hair behind your ear, gripped your bag tighter, and glanced at the university entrance.

A nervous breath escaped your lips. “Here we go.”

Laughter and chatter filled the air, students scattered across the school grounds. Some waved goodbye to their parents, celebrating their child’s first day at the country’s top university. Others rushed toward their friends, voices overlapping in a symphony of excitement.

“Do you even know the way to your class?” a concerned voice rang out.

“Pfft. Pa-lease! I can find my way around on my own,” the other answered confidently. “You, on the other hand, should not be late to your class, up-per-class-man.” She jabbed a finger into his chest, punctuating each syllable.

His laugh overtook all the others in the area. “Right, right. Text me when you get to your class, pipsqueak.” He smiled and ruffled her hair.

“Ugh! You’re messing up my hair!” she groaned, swatting his hand away.

She pushed him—harder than she realized.

A sudden force knocked into you, sending you off balance. Your stomach lurched—before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you, steadying you in place. A shriek escaped your lips.

“I’m so sorry!” he blurted out, pulling back just as quickly.

You pushed him off, steadying yourself, ignoring the faint trace of his cologne still lingering in the air.

“Oh my god, I didn’t see you!” A girl rushed forward, grabbing your hands like she’d known you forever. Her enthusiasm pierced through your ears, but her wide-eyed concern softened the frustration building in your chest.

“Are you okay? That was my fault!”

Your eyes met hers—bright, warm, and completely sincere.

“…Yeah, I’m fine.” The irritation dissolved as you took in her worried expression. “It’s okay.”

She beamed, relief washing over her. “I’m Michaela. What’s your name?”

It was history from then on.

•

You found out she was in the same year and major as you, and you became best friends almost instantly. Naturally, that meant getting close to him too—Caleb, as he introduced himself.

You also learned that you shared the same minor with him, so despite everything, you’d be seeing him in class.

It is another mundane day. You get to class and put your bag down on a seat, plopping your body down on the chair. A sigh leaves your lips as you look at your phone to check the time.

8:45. Having a class this early should be illegal.

You put your earphones on, hushing the quiet of the room with a faint song. You close your eyes as you wait for the others to reach.

“You’re early, kiddo,” his hand on your head pull you out of your daze. Your eyes shoot open and is met by a large yawn.

“I cant afford to be late again. I’m one mark away from failing the morning classes,” you groan as you tug off your earphones.

A sheepish smile tugs at his lips as his hand lingers a little too long in your hair, ruffling it just enough to mess it up before pulling back—slowly, like he enjoys the way it falls back into place.

He settles into the seat next to you, elbow propped against the desk, body angled toward yours.

“You need someone to wake you up in the morning?” he teases, his voice dipping just enough to make it sound like an offer.

“Are you offering?” you tilt your head, raising a brow.

Caleb grins, lazy and amused. “I wouldn’t want my shortcake failing a class I’m in,” he muses, tapping a knuckle lightly under your chin. The touch is fleeting, barely there, but enough to make your breath hitch. “Who else would I have to mess with?”

You’re used to the nickname he has given you now. It used to annoy the shit out of you, how he used to tease about you being below his shoulders or how you have to tiptoe to reach for something— shortcake, that’s where the name came from. You scoff, swatting his hand away. “Wow, I feel so valued.”

He chuckles, low and effortless, settling into his seat. “You should. I don’t just give my attention to anyone, y’know.”

“Oh? So I’m special?�� You flash him a smug look, crossing your arms.

Caleb tilts his head, pretending to consider it. “Mmm… yeah, let’s call it that.”

He leans in just slightly, just enough to invade your space but not quite touch. His lips quirk up as he lowers his voice just for you to hear.

“…Or maybe I just like how cute you look when you get all flustered.”

You blink, heat creeping up your neck, but you refuse to let him win.

“So you admit it,” you say, keeping your tone light and teasing. “You think I’m cute.”

Caleb laughs, leaning back like he’s completely unbothered. “Shortcake, I’ve been saying that since day one. Keep up.”

His confidence is so insufferable you can’t help but roll your eyes. “God, I feel bad for all the freshmen falling for your charm.”

“Falling for it?” He raises a brow, smirking. “You say that like you’re not included, sweetheart.”

The nickname makes your stomach do a stupid little flip, but you mask it with a scoff. “Please, I’m completely immune to your antics.”

“Uh-huh.” Caleb leans in again, resting an elbow on the desk while watching you like he’s amused by a private joke. “Is that why your ears are turning red?”

Your hand immediately flies to your ear, and Caleb bursts out laughing.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Upperclassmen really are the worst.”

“Aww, but I’m your favorite, aren’t I?” He tilts his head, smiling like he already knows the answer.

You roll your eyes at him. “Your confidence is getting to your head.”

Caleb’s hearty laugh fills the room, his presence naturally drawing attention. More students trickle in, filling the seats, and as expected, the weight of lingering gazes settles around you.

The girls steal quick glances at the man beside you, their whispers barely concealed. The boys, on the other hand, greet Caleb with easy familiarity, taking their places around him like it’s second nature.

It’s nothing new. You’re used to it.

“Hey, Yn,” a voice cuts through the chatter.

You glance over as Matt slides into the seat beside you, grinning.

“Hey, Matt,” you reply, offering a small smile.

“You coming to the party tomorrow?” he asks, leaning in just enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne.

Before you can answer, Caleb hums beside you, loud enough to interrupt.

“What party?” he asks, resting an arm on the back of your chair like he’s settling in for the conversation.

Matt glances at him, unfazed. “The one at James’ place. Pretty much everyone’s going.”

Caleb nods slowly, then shifts his gaze to you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “And here I thought shortcake wasn’t the party type.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I can be fun.”

“Oh, yeah?” Caleb smirks, tapping a lazy rhythm against the desk. “Guess I’ll have to see it for myself, then.”

You raise a brow. “Wait—are you going?”

Caleb shrugs, his smirk never faltering. “Wouldn’t want my shortcake getting lost in the crowd, would I?”

Matt laughs, shaking his head. “Man, you’re acting like she needs a babysitter.”

Caleb tilts his head, looking at you like he’s thinking about something. Then, with obnoxious ease, he says, “Nah, just wouldn’t want her getting scooped up by some guy with bad intentions.”

Matt raises a brow. “And what, you’ve got good intentions?”

Caleb grins. “Not at all. But at least she knows mine.”

The room erupts in laughter, but your heart stumbles over itself for half a second.

Because there’s something about the way he says it—like it’s a joke, but not entirely.

You roll your eyes, forcing a smirk. “Right. So you’re just going for me, huh?”

Caleb doesn’t even blink. “Why do you look surprised?”

And maybe it’s just your imagination, but for a moment, his gaze lingers, just a second too long.

Matt scoffs, turning his attention to the professor entering the room. “Text me once you’ve made your mind, Yn.”

“Sure,” you answer, unaware of the furrow crawling its way up Caleb’s face. However, you don’t miss the way Caleb’s fingers stop their lazy tapping against the desk.

The class went by agonizingly slowly. You twirl your pen in your hands, scribbling stuff down to keep yourself from knocking out. The next thing you know, you feel a poke on your cheeks.

“You better get up before people see your drool,” Caleb smirks.

You quickly covered your face and wipe off the drool as Caleb laughs. You furrow your brows, feeling the embarrassment crawling up your face.

“I didn’t drool!”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, shortcake,” he chuckles.

You both left for your next classes and the day quickly came to an end.

•

“You going to the party tomorrow?” You ask MC as you walk out of the campus.

She ponders for a second before answering, “Nah. I’m not big on parties and have so much work piling up,” she whines. “You should go, though! Have fun for both of us.”

Her sheepish smile never fails to bring one to your face as well. “I’m still deciding too.”

MC suddenly stops in her tracks, an excited gleam sparkles in her eyes.

“Are you free today, though?”

“Yeah… Why?” You suspiciously eye her.

Before you know it, you are at the mall, arms linked with hers as she weaves through the racks of clothes. “I just need one dress,” she says. “Fifteen minutes, tops.”

You should’ve known better.

It’s been forty five minutes and counting.

You dont mind, really. Shopping with her is familiar, easy. She’s the type to hold up dresses in front of you and make you spin for her, laughing as she debates which colour would fit her best.

And then her phone buzzes.

As soon as she unlocks it, her smile grows wider.

You dont even have to ask who it is.

She taps on her phone, giggles, and shoves her phone in your face.

Caleb [5:36 PM]: wya?

MC [5:37 PM]: Shopping. Why?

Caleb [5:37 PM]: Need me to carry your stuff? ;)

MC [5:37 PM]: You know me too well

“Caleb’s coming,” she beams.

You nod. It isn’t really anything out of the ordinary.

Unsurprisingly, a few minutes later, he’s here.

He slides into the store like he belongs there, like he already knew exactly where MC would be.

“Alright,” he sighs, grabbing the bags from her hands with ease. “What am I hauling this time?”

MC beams at him, poking his side. “A gentleman and a mind-reader. No wonder all the girls want you.”

The Caleb smirks, like it’s a well-worn joke between them. The joke mirrors the one you had with him this morning. But somehow, the interaction feels much… different.

Deeper. Warmer.

Like it belongs to them.

You watch as MC doesn’t hesitate to press a dress against Caleb’s chest, measuring the colour against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t joke, doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

Like it’s always been this way.

Just like the way he doesn’t just carry her bags— he takes them before she even asks. The way he doesn’t just respond— he already knows what she’ll say. The way she doesn’t have to tease to get a reaction— he’s already looking at her like she’s the only thing in the room.

And you— watching. Like you always do.

Eventually, MC disappears into the dressing room, leaving you and Caleb alone.

“Having fun?” Caleb drawls, lazily shifting the shopping bags in his hands. His gaze falling onto you for the first time this evening.

You huff, crossing your arms. “Oh, the best time. Watching you two be so disgustingly in sync is exactly how I wanted to spend my evening,” you joke. But somehow, it stings a little.

Caleb laughs, light and amused. “What, jealous I didn’t offer to carry your stuff too?”

You raise a brow, feigning thoughtfulness. “Maybe I just wanna see if I get the same VIP treatment.”

His smirk wides, “You want me to spoil you, shortcake? Should’ve just said so.”

It’s easy, the way he flirts with you. But it’s just that— easy.

MC steps out of the dressing room, and immediately— probably unconsciously too— he straightens.

“Thoughts?” she twirls.

“Get it.” His response is instant.

MC laughs. “What do you think, Yn?”

You smile, pushing the uneasiness down. “You’re pretty in everything you wear, MC.”

“You got a good eye, Yn,” Caleb adds, his eyes never leaving her. “It looks good on you.”

The warmth in his voice is undeniable.

It’s the way he doesn’t say it playfully, doesn’t throw in a teasing nickname, doesn’t smirk.

It’s the way you fall into the background.

The ride home was unbearably normal. MC chats away about weekend plans, upcoming assignments, something funny she saw on TikTok.

Caleb hums along, adding in a sarcastic comment here and there. His eyes are glued on the road sparing a few glances her way.

You sit at the back seat, nodding at the right moments, but your mind is already made up.

You need a break. From this. From them.

From him.

So when you see Matt’s notification—

Matt [7:03 PM]: You coming tmr?

You don’t even hesitate.

You [7:24 PM]: Yeah

•

The bass thumps against your chest the moment you step inside. The air is thick with laughter, sweat, and the sharp bite of alcohol.

You exhale, rolling your shoulders back.

You’re here to forget.

Forget the way he looks at MC like she’s his entire world. Forget the way your own heart stupidly flips when he looks at you.

“Yn! You finally show up!” Matt calls out to you as you maneuver through the thick crowd, pulling you into the group he is in.

“Guys, this is Yn,” he introduced you to the group. “Hi!” you shout through the music, a nervous smile crawls up your face.

You’re not used to this setting— the alcohol, the mingles, the thumping of music, the proximity, the lights and colours. Every thing is making you drunk, even before you’ve touched any alcohol.

One of the guys whistles. “Oh! You’re that third wheel between Caleb and Michaela!”

Hah.

The third wheel.

“Forget it, we’re here to have fun tonight!” someone else chirped in as he handed you a drink. You’re not sure what it is— it’s not like you care anyways.

“Yeah,” I force a smile as you drown the drink. The alcohol stings your breath, its heat slowly goes down your chest. You slowly exhale, welcoming the warmth that spreads through you.

The alcohol burns, but it’s a different kind of ache—one that numbs instead of sharpens. It’s exactly what you need.

You roll your shoulders back, forcing yourself to relax.

Forget it. Forget him.

The music pounds through your veins as Matt laughs beside you, clinking his drink against yours. “That’s the spirit.” He’s a bit too close. You can feel his body pressed against yours.

But maybe thats what you want right now.

You let yourself sink into the noise, the bodies moving around you, the way everything blurs at the edges. Someone pulls you into a conversation, another offers you another drink, and soon enough, you’re laughing at something you barely even hear. Bodies push and pull, you sway with the beats, lost in the moment, the lights, the colours, the intoxication.

For the first time in a while, you almost feel—

“You didn’t tell me you were coming, shortcake.”

Your stomach drops.

That voice—smooth, amused, effortlessly familiar.

Your entire body tenses before you even turn around.

And when you do, there he is.

Caleb.

Standing way too close, a drink in one hand, the other shoved lazily into his pocket. His hair is slightly tousled, his sleeveless shirt making it impossible not to notice the way his toned arms shift as he leans in.

But none of that matters.

Because Caleb doesn’t go to these parties.

Everyone knows that.

And yet—he’s here.

Your jaw tightens as you glance at him, forcing a smirk. “Didn’t think you liked these things.

He grins. “I don’t.”

Your brows knit together. “Then what are you doing here?”

He hums, taking a slow sip of his drink before tilting his head at you. “What do you think?”

Your grip tightens around your cup.

He’s messing with you. Like always.

And you should ignore it, should walk away before you let him ruin this night for you—

But you don’t.

You can’t.

Instead, you match his energy, your own lips curling into a smirk.

“Well, hope you’re not expecting me to entertain you,” you quip, voice light, teasing. “I’m actually busy.”

“Busy, huh?” He raises a brow, clearly amused. His gaze flickers past you, scanning the group you came with.

Your pulse quickens.

He’s not jealous. You know that.

But the way his eyes narrow just slightly, the way he lingers—like he’s assessing something, calculating something—

It almost feels like he is.

And for some stupid, reckless reason, you want to test it.

So you shrug, taking another sip of your drink. “Yeah. Matt has been real good company today.”

Caleb’s laugh is slow, deep, and entirely too amused.

“Interesting,” he repeats, nodding slightly. “Guess that means I should try harder, huh?”

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the music.

“Caleb!”

A girl stumbles forward, eyes wide. “Oh my god, I didn’t think you’d actually come!”

Heads start turning. More people flock toward him, pulling him into their circle.

And just like that—you’re being pushed back.

You watch as Caleb greets them with that easy, sheepish grin—the one that makes everything look so effortless. The crowd bombards him with the same teasing remarks as always.

“Damn, what happened? Where’s your girl tonight?”

They don’t need to say her name. Everyone knows.

MC.

She’s not here. And somehow, Caleb being here without her is more surprising than him being here at all.

But he doesn’t seem bothered. He just chuckles, shaking his head.

“She doesn’t need me today.”

The words shouldn’t mean anything. But they do.

But before you can even process it, his gaze shifts and

Lands on you.

And his next words knock the breath from your lungs.

“Besides,” Caleb muses, voice light, playful, teasing— “Someone else probably needs me more right now.”

The crowd erupts.

“Ooooh, damn! Who’s the unlucky girl getting swept off her feet while your girl isn’t here to keep you in check?”

Caleb’s smile grows. Slowly, lazily.

He tilts his head, feigning innocence.

“What do you mean, unlucky?”

They laugh. They cheer.

You stand there, watching, feeling every single emotion crash into you at once.

Because they’re joking. Because he’s joking.

But somehow, you cannot muster a smile up your face.

He probably saw your face, or the look in your eyes, or probably the way your lips seem to tense a bit more.

He quickly finishes the drink in his hand, and someone quickly hands him another.

“Thanks,” he flashes a warm smile to the girl who hands him the drink as he reaches for it, brushing his hands softly against hers.

She’d probably replay the scene over and over for the next week.

His eyes finds yours once more before swiftly slipping out of the group of people.

You quickly turn away, desperate to vanish somewhere.

Anywhere.

Today was supposed to be a day without him.

However, your body betrays you. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps it’s the lingering sting of his gaze, perhaps it’s just him. The world tilts, and before you can catch yourself—

A strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his chest and stabling you on your feet.

“How many drinks have you had?” His voice low, edged with amusement, but there’s something else in it, something almost concerned.

You barely process his words because his chest is against yours, his breath warm against your temple.

You exhale, hands instinctively gripping his shirt as you try to steady yourself— not just from the dizziness, but from everything else.

Too close. He’s too close.

And he knows it.

His grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens, his fingers pressing just slightly against the curve of your waist.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice dropping just a little lower.

You swallow, ignoring the way your heart pounds against your ribs.

“I’m fine,” you manage, but your voice betrays you— it’s softer, breathier than you meant it to be.

Caleb smirks.

“That so?”

He doesn’t let go.

Instead, he leans in just a fraction closer, eyes flickering down—to your lips, to the way your breath hitches.

It’s a game. You both know it’s a game.

“I heard people say you were looking for a distraction,” his voice dips, low and deliberate. His fingers trail lightly along your spine, just enough to make you shiver.

“Was Matt a good distraction?”

A pause.

His thumb brushes against your hip.

“Or do you want something more… intoxicating?”

Your breath catches.

All you can feel is the thumping of your heart against your ears, his low voice teasing your pulse, his warmth consuming you.

“I see the way you react to me,” he murmurs.

His fingers tighten, pulling you closer, his lips barely grazing your ear now.

“The distraction you want… it’s a distraction from me, isn’t it?”

His hand trails up, brushing the exposed skin of your arm.

“You don’t have to say it,” he muses, eyes glinting.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, unsteady, breathless.

“You like this, don’t you?” Caleb murmurs, his voice impossibly smooth, seductive.

Your throat tightens, but you don’t pull away.

You don’t deny it.

You can’t.

And he smirks, because he knows.

“Good.” His lips ghost over the curve of your jaw, not quite kissing, just enough to tease.

“Because I like yours too.”

His voice dips lower, slower— almost like a confession.

The world spins, but this time, it’s not from the alcohol.

Your grip on his shirt becomes tighter, if it’s even possible. He leans even closer, his breath warm against your lips, hovering— teasing, testing, waiting.

For you to pull away.

For you to stop him.

But you don’t.

You close your eyes, letting him consume you. He closes the distance his lips pressing into yours with slow, unhurried intent. There’s no rush, no urgency— just a deliberate pull, like he wants you to feel every second of it.

His hand on your waist tightens, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath catch. His other hand finds the curve of your jaw, tilting your face up, deepening the kiss like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips.

He moves— presses deeper, pulls you closer—

And deliberately, it turns hungrier. Slow, but consuming.

Like he’s claiming you— if only for this moment.

His teeth graze your bottom lip, a light tug, a silent dare.

Your fingers snake to the crevice of his neck, pulling him in like you don’t want this to end.

You somehow find a way to a secluded corner, and he pushes your back against the wall. He rests his arm on the side of your head, balancing his weight on the wall as his other hand rests protectively at your waist. His lips leave yours, trailing kisses down your neck. His teeth grazes your skin, earning gasps and small involuntary noises from you.

His lips drag along your pulse, slow and teasing, a deliberate contrast to the heat pooling between you.

You don’t even realize your fingers are tugging his hair, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you steady.

Caleb chuckles against your skin, the sound low, smug— satisfied.

“You sound so sweet,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the spot just below your jaws.

“Caleb…” you breathe. “What does this mean?” The air suddenly turn thick as the words slip out before you can stop them.

Maybe it’s because you don’t want to believe that the one towering you right now is simply using you as a distraction from the girl he longs for. Maybe it’s because you want to hear an answer that would put the pit in your stomach at bay. Maybe you want to hear a lie that’ll at least make this moment feel more real. Or maybe you’re just too drunk on everything.

You swallow. “What are we?”

You feel his smirk against your skin before he nips at it, just enough to make your breath hitch.

His hand on your waist tightens, grounding you, holding you in place as he trails even lower. Then he exhales a quiet laugh— low, breathy, like you’ve asked something ridiculous.

His lips brush your ear.

“Why do we have to be anything?”

He leans back just enough to look at you, and there’s something in his eyes— something unreadable, something you wish you could hold onto.

“Isn’t this enough?”

His fingers trail up your arm, slow, lazy, desperate. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

Your breath catches.

His thumb strokes along your jaw, coaxing you, soothing you. “I know you like this,” he murmurs, his voice a slow, dangerous drawl.

And then—he smiles.

That same playful, easy, charming smile.

Like this is just another game.

Like it isn’t breaking you apart.

“Just enjoy it, shortcake.”

He kisses you again before you can respond.

“Don’t over complicate things.”

You should say something, you should fire back—

But then he sucks at the sensitive skin near your collarbone, and all that escapes you is a sharp gasp.

He chuckles again, pleased. “That’s what I thought.”

His hand slides up your side, slow, lingering—like he enjoys the way your body reacts to him.

Like he enjoys this.

And somehow, that’s what makes your stomach tighten the most—

Not just his touch, or his lips, or the way he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to let go—

But the way he seems to want this as much as you do.

Like for once, he’s here with you.

Not her.

You let that thought sink in, drown in it, just for tonight.

Because tomorrow, this moment won’t exist.

But then, the dream came to an abrupt pause.

PING

The sound cuts through the haze, through the heat, through everything. Caleb stops whatever he was doing. His hands leave your body, his warmth fades, leaving you a breathless mess against the wall.

He exhales, sweeping his hair back as he pulls out his phone.

Your eyes fall to his lips, the way it’s a bit swollen with smudges of your lipstick faintly staining him.

Then— a smile.

Not the teasing, cocky smirk he likes to throw your way. It’s a warm, heart-wrenching smile that reaches his eyes.

You don’t need to see the screen to know.

MC.

“I gotta go,” he murmurs, eyes still glued to the phone, fingers moving quickly as he types.

You don’t say anything.

You cant.

“Don’t get home too late, shortcake,” he states, eyes still on the phone.

Without sparing you a glance, he turns away and disappears into the crowd.

And you—stupid, foolish you—

Just stand there.

Waiting for something that was never yours to begin with.

•

You force your eyes open only to be met with light piercing into your eyes. You are not sure how the night ended, or how you managed to pull yourself home. You shot up, quickly checking the time.

8:45. Fuck.

You push yourself from the bed, ignoring the pang in your head.

Running into class, you quickly open the door, heaving as you scan the room for seats.

“Yn!” a voice calls out.

You turn to the source, and sure enough, it’s him.

He pats the empty seat beside him. “Here.”

You hesitate.

For a second, just a second, you think maybe he’ll say something. Maybe he’ll acknowledge what happened last night.

Maybe he’ll give you something.

But Caleb just leans back in his seat, grinning like always. Like nothing happened.

Like his hands weren’t all over you.

Like his lips weren’t on yours.

Like he didn’t leave you standing there, breathless and alone.

“C’mon, shortcake,” he drawls, patting the empty seat beside him. “I saved you a seat.”

You swallow, legs moving before your mind can catch up, and you take the seat.

And he smirks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes like he wasn’t out ruining you the night before.

He’s joking.

Laughing.

Acting like last night was nothing.

Like you’re nothing.

And you force yourself to laugh along.

•

The day goes by like any other day. You find yourself sitting with MC and Caleb, grabbing dinner at a nearby restaurant you frequent as soon as the day ends.

“So… how was last night?” she asks.

You pause, unsure of what to say. “It was okay,” you finally say. “I was a total mess.”

“Caleb told me he dropped by. Did you guys meet there?”

“No,” he answers. “There were too many people, I wouldn’t have been able to find shortcake there even if I was sober!” he jokes.

A pit builds in your stomach. You’re not sure of what to feel, how to react.

So you smile.

“True.”

MC drabble on, talking about how she suddenly had an urge for a late night meal and Caleb was kind enough to bring one to her in the middle of last night.

“I didn’t ruin your fun, right?” she turns to Caleb.

“You know I have the most fun with you, pipsqueak,” he chuckles, pinching her nose.

Oh. So that’s why he left.

They probably talked more about useless stuff. You can’t really comprehend what the conversations are about anymore. You excuse yourself, blaming it on the hangover and saying that you drank a little too much last night and need a sleep.

The moment you step out, the weight in your chest collapses. Your fingers tremble as you clutch your bag tighter, as you force your legs to move, one step after another, out the door, down the road, through the crowd.

Everything feels too bright, too loud, too much.

MC’s words echo in your head.

“I suddenly had an urge for a late-night meal, and Caleb was kind enough to bring me one.”

Your stomach twists.

That’s who he belongs to.

Not you. Never you.

You don’t even remember the walk home.

It’s a blur—like the rest of the night, like every moment you spent trying to convince yourself you were anything more than temporary.

By the time you come to, you’re curled up in the corner of your room, knees pulled tight to your chest, the darkness swallowing you whole.

You feel empty.

Not just sad, not just hurt—hollow.

Like last night never even happened.

Like you never even happened.

Your fingers tighten against your arms, nails digging into your skin as if pain could anchor you to something real.

But nothing about this is real.

You were a moment.

A passing indulgence.

A warm body for him to hold when the one he truly wanted wasn’t there.

And the worst part?

You let him.

Because even if it wasn’t real, even if it was just for a second—

At least for that moment, he was yours.

PING

Your phone lights up.

Caleb [7:04 PM]: I’m free tonight

Caleb [7:04 PM]: You didn’t eat a lot earlier

Caleb [7:05 PM]: You want porridge?

Caleb [7:07 PM]: I’m coming over

You stare at the screen until the phone dims once more.

PING

MC [7:10 PM]: UGH I have to stay late at the library tonight

MC [7:10 PM]: Some last minute thing came up with my group project

MC [7:11 PM]: Gotta be stuck here forever T_T

Oh.

#love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb #caleb x mc #caleb #lads caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x you #reader insert #x reader #angst

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illbegottenfaith · 3 days ago

Text

kiss me better, love

as the two of you stumble into bed after a Valentine's dinner date, theo realises it's not fair how much he loves you (theo nott x reader)

a/n - valentines fic #2 !!!! thought of this idea in a class literally 5 hours ago and idk if its the sleep deprivation but this is sooo self-indulgent writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet frfr 😭 all I have to say is if this isnt me and my future partner I dont want him I send him BACK

tropes/warnings - physical touch as a love language, angry theo but also soft theo 🥰🥰 no (read: minimal) proof reading we die like men etc etc

word count - 1.5k

taglist - @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @ebriton @thaliashifts @friedfreyfries @allie-sturns

The door shuts behind you both, plunging the room into near-darkness. You barely take a step before bumping into Theo, your knee knocking against his thigh, your hands flying to his shoulders as you stumble.

"Merlin,” he mutters, steadying you with a grip at your waist. “Can you - ”

“You're the one barging into me,” you shoot back, tucking a lock behind your ear as you tighten your grip on Theo’s shoulder, making him wince.

“Anyway, like I was saying, it hasn’t even been a week since Missy - ”

Theo exhales sharply, blindly reaching for the zipper at your back. “Is this something I really need to be hearing right now?” he asks somewhat waspishly.

“Yes.” You barely register his tone, still preoccupied. “So I walk into Charms in Tuesday, expecting to find Josh understandably distraught and/or in mourning. But who do I see him chatting up instead?"

"Hair."

You gather your hair up in one hand to hold it up and go right on talking. You barely notice Theo's largely ineffective attempts at pushing your sleeves off your shoulders.

"Pansy Parkinson! Pansy flipping Parkinson. What, does he think he's a free man now or something? Melissa's halfway across the world, she's not dead."

"Mhm."

You sigh exaggeratedly at his lackluster responses.

“Well? Don't you have to anything to add?"

“Yeah - hold still.” You This is just ridiculous, Theo was thinking. What kind of dress needed buttons and a zip?

You huff, switching your hair to your other hand. “Honestly, Theo, have you listened to a single thing I’ve been saying the past hour?”

Theo groans, still fumbling at your lower back. He had figured out the buttons were decorative, bless him, but your dress was on the more delicate side, and if he ripped it, he'd never hear the end of it. “Uh, yeah, that Abernathy guy...he’s two-timing Melissa?"

“He is not,” you say, peering over your shoulder to see what was taking Theo so long. Seriously, what was going on back there? It doesn't help, though, not when you can barely make him out in the dark. “not yet at least. He might. And if he's going to, well, isn't it better she finds out now rather than ten years down the road? Or am I an awful friend for thinking that?"

"Thinking what?" Theo asks distractedly.

"Willing my best friend's boyfriend into cheating on her."

Before he can formulate a response, your stubborn zipper finally decides to cooperate and moves down an inch - snagging at his finger. A sharp hiss cuts through the dark, followed by some emphatic, muttered swearing.

You pause.

“…what was that?”

Theo slips his injured finger out of his mouth briefly, his voice strained as he struggles to keep the pain out of his tone. “Nothing.”

You shift slightly, trying to catch his expression in the dark, but he’s suspiciously still now, his hands nowhere on you anymore.

“Theo.”

“I’m fine.”

Your brow furrows. Then, his suddenly subdued demeanour and oddly neutral tone clicks in your head.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

There’s an immediate rustle, followed by Theo’s very delayed attempt at nonchalance.

“…no.”

Oh, you could throttle him. “Was it the zip again?”

“You keep saying that like I do it intentionally - I never mean to-”

“And now you're trying to suck the pain away like a child?”

“Would you rather I bleed all over your dress?”

“I’d rather you watch what you’re doing so you don’t get maimed by a bloody zip in the first place!”

Theo exhales sharply, his frustration palpable. “I keep telling you - I don't-”

“You never mean to, but here we are.” You cross your arms. “Third time in two weeks, Theo. This is getting ridiculous. Should I hire a nurse for our dates? A medic? Do you need to start taking my clothes off under medical supervision? Is that what we've come to?"

Theo glares at you (or the shadowy figure he was mostly sure was you), trying to pull his attention away from the stinging pain. “Oh, don’t start - ”

“You don’t think before you do things.”

Theo groans. “I think plenty.”

“No, you rush plenty. Really, it’s a miracle you still have all your limbs -”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

“First, you burn yourself on my curling iron -”

“Okay, one, you shouldn't be leaving your things out like that.”

“Then you cut yourself opening a tin of biscuits -”

Theo tips his head back in exasperation. “You sh - you literally shoved it at me!”

“ - and now my zipper is out to get you?” You throw your hands up. “What are you telling me, Teddy? That every item I own has a personal vendetta against you?”

"Mattheo agrees with me, you know," you continue smugly, in a so-there kind of tone. "He told me about that time you nearly broke your neck falling down that flight of stairs on the way to Transfiguration, which wouldn't have happened if you weren't - "

"Rushing, I know." Theo steps back as if to escape. “Merlin, you are insufferable - ”

“And you are reckless.”

“I don't need you to lecture me.”

“You’d be fine if you just listened to m - show me your finger.”

A brief struggle ensues.

You lunge; he sidesteps. You fumble blindly for his hand; he twists out of reach.

“For fuck’s sake -”

“Stop being so difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult, you’re being a menace.”

“At least I don't get mauled by zippers.”

“I'm telling you, that zipper has it out for me."

“Well, maybe if you weren’t always in such a bloody rus - ”

“Enough with the rushing!”

“I can't help it if you never learn - ”

“I do learn,” he snaps, stepping back further - only for you to grab onto his wrist and pull.

There’s a shuffle, a scuffle as Theo stumbles back into the dresser with a thud.

“Oi - ”

“Oh, stop squirming, you big baby.”

“You stop grabbing- ”

“Theodore, you are injured. Act like it.”

“I am n- ”

“Then give me your hand.”

A long, heavy pause. Then -

“No.”

You groan, exasperated. “Merlin, you are the most - ”

“And you are relentless - ”

But at last, in an impressive show of determination, you manage to latch onto his wrist, wrenching his hand towards you before he can twist away again. Theo groans in frustration, but you’ve already found the wound—his fingertip, warm and damp against yours.

“Oh, for - ” You tighten your grip as he tries to pull away. “You are bleeding!”

Theo tenses, his entire body bristling. “It’s nothing.”

“On my zipper,” you say incredulously. “Again.”

He exhales sharply as if this is somehow your fault. “You don’t need to make a whole production of it - ”

“I told you to be careful - ”

“And I was - ”

“Clearly not enough!”

Theo groans, tipping his head back against the dresser. “I’m buying you a tear-away dress next Valentine’s.”

You bite back a smirk. “I’d like to see you figure that one out.”

He mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but you’re already bringing his hand up, brushing your lips over the wound.

He stills.

The fight, the irritation, the tension - all of it dissolves instantly under your touch.

You press another kiss there, softer this time. Through a sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains, he sees your face - your impish expression, your eyes, alight with amusement and plain adoration. You watch his face too - his furrowed brows relaxing, the slight part of his lips, his sharp features softened by something indiscernible.

His eyes flick to yours.

And Merlin, it’s not fair, he thinks. It’s not fair how you can drive him to the brink of insanity one second and then look at him like that the next, like you could never get your fill. It's enough to make him think you're worth all the trouble you put him through. It's enough to make him want to slow down. Merlin knows the last thing he wants is to rush through his days with you.

“…better?” you murmur against his skin after a moment.

Theo exhales, rolling his eyes as though he isn’t already relenting. "It's a start," he says grudgingly.

Your smile widens as you bring his hand up again, pressing another kiss there, then another, then another.

Theo groans, tipping his head back again, his frustration dwindling with every sympathetic brush of your lips.

“You like this,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but his voice has softened, his body relaxing into yours.

You grin, pressing a kiss to his wrist. Then his palm.

Theo groans again, for reasons unrelated to his earlier irritation, his fingers curling at your waist.

You laugh softly. “Want me to kiss you better everywhere?”

Theo smiles weakly, pulling you closer. “That's the best idea you've had all night."

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff

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starredblood · 3 days ago

Text

NOWHERE GIRL

PART NINETEEN

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: you come back with an anxious ridden feeling that becomes worse as time goes by—all because of the stone faced girl.

wc. 3.1k

warnings: very angsty | authors note: sooo the weather….

(nowhere girl masterlist)

(Three months later…)

Mi-Cha was getting more anxious by the minute.

When she went to visit you in your dorm, you weren’t there. In fact, when she asked your roommate about your whereabouts she too hasn’t seen you all day. So, she’s standing outside your dorm with her hands on her hips to ponder. Where could you be? Who will know? A light bulb flickers in her mind when she thinks of the only person in campus who knows everyone in her major.

She sprints to the floor above and knocks on the door of one of the most luxurious dorms in campus. Yoon appears minutes after, her eyes glued to her phone screen which aggravates Mi-Cha.

“Yoon. Earth to, Yoon.” she says snapping her fingers in front of Yoon’s face. She blinks and smiles wearily at Mi-Cha.

“Oh, hey, long time no see. How was your summer?” Yoon asks, batting her eyelashes.

“No need for small talk just tell me where she is.” Mi-Cha huffs impatiently.

Yoon’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “She?”

“Seriously?” Mi-Cha crosses her arms and sighs. “Who’s the only other person that we are connected to?”

After pausing to think, revelation overcomes Yoon’s pristine face. “Ah! Yes—I think she’s at our communal studio. I haven’t seen her around the dorms—“

“But you are our new resident assistant?”

“Exactly! I’m so busy trying to keep everything and everyone in check how am I supposed to know where everyone is at every waking moment?”

Mi-Cha scoffs, even though deep down she knows Yoon is slightly correct. And with that she walks away and out of the dormitory building. There is only one communal studio space for art students to attend whenever they like. She is surprised you’d be there though—it’s not even the first day of classes yet. And in all honesty, she’s a little offended that that’s the first place you go to.

She hasn’t seen you since you left for your Italy trip and you were barely able to reach out to her during your summer there. But from the small tidbits you shared, it sounded like you had a riveting summer in Milan.

After opening the doors to the large and spacious studio, there were mounds of students present with piles of canvases and sculptures ready to be displayed or worked on. She pushes past the students with the goal of finding you in mind.

It feels like Mi-Cha was back at the art gallery with how crowded this studio is. Finally, she thinks she found you and she let out a huge breath of relief.

You were currently helping lift up a large canvas with the help of four other art students and leaned the piece against the wall. Your hair was all over the place and the baggy jean shorts you were wearing got unknowingly stained when you wipe your hands against them.

Whilst catching your breath you wipe the sweat off your forehead, still not noticing your friend running to your direction.

“I missed you so so so much!” Mi-Cha merrily says after trapping you into one of her bear hugs.

“Hey! I missed you too.” you say, grinning. However, there was less enthusiasm in your voice.

“Why haven’t you stopped by to see me? I’m hurt.” she pouts releasing you from the hug.

She eyes you from head to toe. Something was different about you she just couldn’t put her fingers on it. Although, your skin did glow with more radiance, that wasn’t it. And when she looks into your smiling eyes, there was a hint of nervousness surrounding them that was illegible. Maybe she was just overthinking it too much. It has been awhile since she’s seen you.

“I’m sorry. All of my work just flew in and I had to unpack them all otherwise they would have gone ‘mysteriously’ missing.” you say, using your fingers to sign quotation marks on the word mysteriously. “And I stayed longer to help some people who went with me on the trip.”

“And how was it?” she gapes. “Wait never mind don’t tell me—let’s go grab lunch after so you can tell me all about it.”

Your eyes squint. “I hear that the cafeteria food here is…not the best though.”

“Yeah—that’s why I told you to enjoy as much Italian food before coming back. You’ll have to start getting used to the campus food now.”

When you open your mouth to speak a colleague of yours nudges your sides to help them lift up a sculpture tightly secured in a large box. You signal Mi-Cha to momentarily wait for you to finish and she observes you with eyebrows quirking up. She thinks she’s pretty good at reading minds, you seem anxious. The entire time you spoke your eyebrows were knit and the corners of your lips twitching like the smile you had was by force.

You clap your hands together to wipe away dust and debris, your face crestfallen. “What?”

“Did you see her yet?” she blurts out, wriggling her eyebrows. She was louder than she expected.

That’s when you freeze and Mi-Cha catches on. It had to be that girl you were so fawned over this past spring. She saw it in the way your muscles grew tense. You play it off with a smaller smile.

“No, as soon as I got back I had to get everything in my dorm prepared and talk to my counselor about my new tuition.” you explain quietly. “I’m going to stop by later though.”

Now, Mi-Cha feels guilty. She’s so ignorant for thinking that your only problems were your love life when you have financial stressors to take care of.

“Yeah, I know it’s expensive but don’t worry. Focus on school and worry about debts when you get a stable job after.”

“Being an adult fucking sucks.” you grumble.

“Yeah, I know.” she says, clearing her throat in contemplation. “Are you alright though? With you know…life?”

You start chuckling nervously. “Yeah. I don’t know…Ever since I got to Italy I’ve just been stressed and I still feel weird even after coming back.”

“Did you say stress? What could possibly stress you out in Italy?”

Sae-byeok actually.

There is no words in the human dictionary to describe the amount of stress you’ve endured throughout your trip to Italy. All because of the stone face girl you’ve fallen head over heels for. You never felt such intense emotions about someone other than her, it got to a point where she was always luring in the back of your mind.

On the last week of your studies in Italy, you and a couple of your colleagues ventured out to Genoa to relax on a boat. And embarrassingly enough, your drunken thoughts couldn’t see anything but Sae-byeok. It was killing you and for one reason only.

She hasn’t reached out to you ever since you arrived to Italy.

At first you didn’t try to worry. You didn’t have much reception on your phone but whenever you got the chance you made sure to stay up late reach out to Sae-byeok when you knew it would be day time in South Korea. But nothing. Halfway through the trip, you try dialing Ji-yeong asking if everything is alright but nothing. And when you tried reaching out to them the second you got back to Korea, their calls went straight to voicemail.

They’ve gone off the grid and you couldn’t stop your mind from going in circles trying to figure out what’s going on with them.

But now that you’re back you are going to find out.

After you and Mi-Cha head to the cafeteria and catch up on each other’s lives the past three months, you decline her offer to go to a welcome party held at her dormitory wing. You felt guilty not telling her about what really happened with Sae-byeok, but you were so afraid to get her response because she is such a blunt person. What if she would’ve told you that Sae-byeok ghosted you and to move on from her? You are still in denial.

So, after lunch you walk back to your dormitory.

“Hey, what happened to you?” asks your roommate, Lee Gyeong-ja who was currently laying on her bed playing a mobile game. “Haven’t heard from you all day and one of your friends came to ask about you.”

“Busy unloading some stuff from my trip.” you explain flatly. “And I met up with her earlier.”

You kneel down in front of your bed to pull out two bags underneath it. In the bag contains all the stuff you gathered from the trip and each has the label ‘Ji-yeong’ and ‘Kang siblings’.

“Okay…” she trails off before focusing back on her game.

“Bye.” you say breathlessly and walk out the dorm with the bags on each hand.

To make it to their apartment faster, you took the subway rather than the bus even though you prefer taking the latter. The entire journey was stress inducing—you hope that they have a good explanation as to why they haven’t been contacting you.

When you arrive in front of the apartment complex, you took a deep breath in to soothe your mind. You hope they’re alright. You hope to see their faces soon. And you hope they’re thinking the same about you.

You place one of the bags on the floor to knock on their door. Again, you breathe in and out but your heart keeps thumping loudly in your ears. It just got louder when you hear rustling coming from the other end.

Your racing heart stops abruptly to sink down your chest.

“Hello?” greets a man who looks to be in his thirties. He slowly pokes his head out the door to survey you—appearing very suspicious about your presence here.

“Oh uh,” you stammer and look to the side of the door to make sure you got the right apartment number. This was it. You awkwardly smile at the man. “hi. Sorry—two girls around my age used to live here. Do you—Do you know where they possibly…moved to?”

“Two girls?” he questions. Right after, a woman who you assume to be his wife appears behind him. He mumbles something to her and she shakes her head in response. “We aren’t sure—we just moved here last month. But I think I remember the landlord telling us that the old tenants left sometime in the…beginning of summer?” he looks to his wife for reassurance and she shakes her head yes.

“Seriously? Oh my god…” you mutter, your voice trembling. Before they get any more suspicious of you, you bow quickly. “I’m sorry for taking your time. Thank you.”

And with that you grab the bag you had on the ground and make your way out of your apartment.

So, you weren’t just going crazy for no reason…If they weren’t here then where the hell are they? You don’t want to think of the worst just yet. There has to be a fine explanation for this.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

(One week later…)

The bakery is no longer there. Instead, there was a large ‘FOR SALE’ sign on the entire building which includes your old studio apartment. And the only other sign in front of the abandoned building was ‘RELOCATED TO SONJUN.’

You desperately wish that you could drop everything to go to Sonjun and hope Miss Ahn or her bratty grandson could give you answers. If they have any. But you couldn’t fall behind in school, not when it’s all you have.

As if you were in a trance, you kept swirling your line brush around the red acrylic paint. You didn’t notice you were doing this for the past three minutes—but you couldn’t stop thinking about Sae-byeok. It worries you what might’ve happened to her. When she told you she was able to stay a float, was the lying?

You didn’t break away from your trance until faint familiar giggles enter your ears. Blinking, you see Yoon enter the communal studio with her portfolio tote. She heads to the other end of the studio and you just go back to swirling your brush around. It wasn’t until a shadowy figure engulfs you that you peer back up.

“Yoon?”

“Hey!” she beams and bends down to give you a side hug. You awkwardly reciprocate it back by patting her shoulders and frown seeing her pull up a chair beside you. “How was Italy? Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was beautiful.” you reply coolly. “How was your summer?”

That’s when she lets out a biggest groan, disturbing some of the students around you. “Awful! First of all, I had to work at one of my parents cafe chains all the way at the end of town because they were short staffed. So, do you know what I had to do? Remove my acrylic nails! Then soon after, I stopped hearing less and less from Yen-ho and he’s seriously gone off the grid because I had to report him missing to the police! But of course they don’t care because of…you know. The criminal stuff. But anyway—yeah I haven’t heard from him since. It was seriously stressing me out that I couldn’t relax properly on my trip to Jeju all July. I hope that all the school work will keep my mind at bay…Seriously why should I be so worried over a prick like him? I’m sorry for ranting but no one besides you would understand.”

“No, it’s okay.” you say, your eyebrows knitting. “But when did you say he went missing?”

“I reported him in the beginning of July after not hearing from him for like over three weeks. Fucking asshole. I need to get over him quickly.”

“And he never mention where he was going or anything?”

She throws you a suspicious glare. “Are you seriously concerned about him?”

“No it’s just…” you say, sighing in frustration. “Don’t tell anyone but remember my friend who you saw at the art murals? Well, she’s moved out of her apartment sometime in June or July and I haven’t heard from her either. And she used to know him. Do you think…?”

“What? Was she a part of his gang or something?” she gasps. When you nod she starts rubbing your back soothingly. “Oh, honey…”

“I know it’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not. I mean…it’s very likely that they joined forces again though.”

“You think?” you raise a brow.

“Do you know how many times Yen-ho vowed to me that he would never go back to the gang? So many times.”

No, that can’t be it. Sae-byeok isn’t Yen-ho. She has too much to risk with Cheol under her care and too much of a caring heart to do that to him. It just seems unfathomable. But, how unlikely could that be? What if she couldn’t find a way to pay rent and asked Deok-su if she could join back in his gang…No. That can’t be it—she owed him a ton of money. That’s not possible—however, this piece of information about Yen-ho is very interesting.

“I’ll—I’ll figure it out. Thanks, Yoon.” you murmur after careful thinking.

She sends you an enthusiastic smile. “Aw, look at us bonding over our love for criminals!”

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

(One month later…)

You were starting to forget how they looked like. Whenever you think of Sae-byeok, the image of her in your mind is blurry and not all there. It’s funny, you thought you’d never forget a face like hers but you can’t even recall her most distinct features—her eyes. You remember them being sharp and cold, but you don’t have the clear picture of it in your head. Now, you regret leaving your sketchbook of all her drawings behind with her. It’s hard to believe it’s been five months.

Luckily, school has helped in some ways to keep your thoughts at bay. You drown yourself in your paintings and sculptures—learning new techniques thanks to your study abroad program you became more skilled in drawing portraits.

You sigh in defeat starting at the fully worked canvas before you. It was another failure. You didn’t get her eyes right again—this is the fifth portrait you have failed to perfect. If anyone knew how much time you were putting into drawing Sae-byeok they’d think you’ll need to be sent away. But you can’t forget her. You just can’t, but your mind is betraying you.

The alarm goes off in the back pocket of your jeans—altering you that you have things in your life you need to do outside of Sae-byeok. You click to turn it off and drape over the portrait with a long piece of fabric.

Texting Mi-Cha, you let her know you will be a few minutes late for dinner and to save you a spot. When she replies back with a thumbs up you put your phone back in your pocket and head over to the building where the financial support center is located.

Because you no longer have an internship and you don’t know when the next one will come, you did your best to sell your paints and sculptures you made back in Italy as a form of income. But it’s hard. After only selling three of your works, you only had enough money to pay a portion of your tuition—a small portion.

“Hi, I’d like to submit a deposit for my tuition.” you say to the worker sitting across the desk who was busy clicking away on the computer.

“Of course, I just need your ID, please.” she says robotically, still starting at the screen. You sigh and slide down your card to her. She grabs it, merely glances at it and starts typing away. After a minute of clicking and typing, her eyes slightly narrow. “Hm…”

“Hm?” you repeat. She throws you a look, making your cheeks go pink.

“It seems like your tuition is entirely paid off.”

Your jaw slackens by the miracle of this news. There your heart goes again, hammering like it was trying to burst out of your chest. “W—What? Are you sure you got the right person…?”

She purses her lips at you but turns to do more typing. You bite your bottom lip in anticipation when she looks at your ID and back at the screen. “Yes.” she answers flatly.

“Could—Could you tell me who paid it off? Because it wasn’t me.”

“The system says it’s been paid off by closed cash. Usually closed cash doesn’t provide a name in our system. I’m sorry but I can’t provide you the information you need. Perhaps it was your parents or legal guardian?”

You swallow back a scoff at her reply. However, that was the only plausible explanation. Was this your parent’s way of trying to make amends with you? But it doesn’t make sense—why now? Besides, your parents aren’t filthy rich it’s not possible for them to pay off your entire tuition in full. Ever since you left for Italy, your entire life began flipping upside down.

“Yeah…Thanks, ma’am.” you whisper, your eyes cloudy with thoughts that you forgot to bow. She grimaces when your back is turnt.

When you step out of the building, you just stand outside to ponder. The first day of October air strikes your burning cheeks, cooling them.

“What the fuck is going on?” you mutter to yourself.

You glance up at the sky and see the sun almost going to meet the horizon. If it’s not night yet, you could still get some answers. So, you pull out your phone and text Mi-Cha that you can’t make it because of a last minute homework you forgot to do. Then you check your phone map and to find the quickest route to your parent’s house.

In spite of the fact that you should feel terrified to meet your parents again, there is numbness instead. You have Sae-byeok to thank for that. At least this time you won’t storm off from your parents bawling your eyes out. Or, that’s what you like to tell yourself at least.

When your dad is the one to open the door, your chest pangs. The wrinkles on his forehead are more visible and his eyelids appear to sag more. He stares at you blankly for a moment before raising his eyebrows up in surprise when he realizes who is standing before him.

“H—Honey…you’re here?” he stammers breathlessly. He opens the door wider to instinctively to let you in, but you just glare at him and remain in your spot.

“Hi, dad.” you greet icily. It infuriates you the way he is looking at you like some wounded puppy when he let you go so easily—twice. They had two opportunities and now maybe three. “I just need to know, did you or mom pay off my tuition?”

“Your tuition?” he queries and pauses to think to himself. You can see the tints in his cheeks get more hue, he was embarrassed. “We—uh, we didn’t. Someone paid it off?”

“Yeah. I don’t know who. Anyways, thanks.” you say, your voice low and flat.

“Wait!” he says quickly. You stop yourself from turning around and look back at your dad, eyes squinting. “How are you? How’s school?”

“Great. I just came back from a trip to Italy. I got offered an internship to study there for the summer.” you say. It felt good to brag—especially with how floundered he looks.

“That’s…wonderful.” he stutters.

Disappointed. That’s how you feel. You aren’t sure what you expected him to say, but not that. You feel ashamed for still wanting your parents praise. When you exhale, a cloud of cold smoke puffs out into the air.

“Bye, dad.” you whisper and spin around.

“Hold on—“

“Yes, I’m still a lesbian!” you bellow unintentionally. His face falls and he’s staring at you blankly—exactly how he looked at you when you packed your things after getting kicked out. Those cruel eyes haunt you. “Have a good life.” and with that you head back to the subway station.

Half a year later, it hurts just the same.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

(Another month later…)

Sae-byeok’s message is loud and clear. She doesn’t want to hear from you anymore. Your only theory is that they all moved to a different location after Deok-su found them. And maybe the reason why they cut contact with you is because they want a fresh start—and you’re part of a haunted past they don’t want to face anymore.

The walk was peaceful. The November leaves were colorful and full of life. The tones of browns and oranges covering the sidewalk gave you hope for a new start. That’s what you love about fall, although the change of leaves is because they’re withered and dead—you portray it as change. That change is for the better and it’ll make life all the more beautiful by the time spring arrives again to wake up the leaves.

This is your last chance. Your last resort and you’re fucking terrified. You officially haven’t heard from them for six months. This is the only other option you have and if nothing comes from it you have to move on. It terrifies you but you’re at a stage in your life where you can’t let this consume you or you will spiral. Even if they don’t want anything to do with you, you just hope they’re okay and most importantly happy with life.

You stand in front of Cheol’s elementary school and you gulp. This is it. If nothing comes out of it, you vow to never look back at the past again. You take a deep breath before stepping inside and to the main office towards the front desk.

“Hello, may I help you?” greets a man around your age with a chipper smile.

You blink at him and struggle to speak at first. It’ll be hard to explain this without it sounding off. “Hi, um, I know this might sound strange but I’d like to know if a student is still enrolled in this school. You see, his sister has gone completely missing and she’s his only guardian so I’d like to know if—if he’s…I don’t know—I guess if he’s okay? His name is Kang Cheol.”

“A—Alright?” his peppy voice wanes. He’s clearly new to this as he glances over at his more senior co-workers. “Let me get back to you on that. Normally, we don’t disclose information about a student unless you’re a parent or guardian but let me see if I can give you that information.”

“Thanks…” you trail off and chew on the inside of your cheek.

From the corner of your eyes, you watch him whisper to his older workers who shot weird glances at you every so often. You unknowingly tap your fingers aggressively against the counter, full on anxious. The waiting is killing you but you have a sense of hope when you see them checking the computer screen. You seriously hope Cheol is okay.

When he comes back, clearing his throat, he deadpans, “So, it says he’s no longer enrolled in this school.”

Your legs feel like jelly. “Huh? Why—“

“I’m sorry that’s the only thing I can tell you since you aren’t a parent or guardian. Which I assume you aren’t?”

Practically in the middle of feeling lightheaded, you feel yourself shake your head. “No. Thanks.” you think you murmur to him and stumble out of the office and out this building.

Once on the sidewalk, you press you back against whatever building you stumbled across and hold back tears. This stress is killing you from the inside out. What the hell happened to them? You don’t even care if they don’t want to see you anymore, you just want to know if they’re safe.

You keep choking back sobs as you were still in public.

Your blurry eyes fall down to the sidewalk and you focus on the leaves. Change—you’re supposed to change. However, you want one last cry.

“Hey—are you alright?” Mi-Cha’s normal tone dies into a worried one when she opens the door to her dorm and sees the state of you.

Your head is ducked low, you’re tightly clutching the sides of your coat, and your body is trembling. When she raises your chin with her hand she gasps at your red face and your even redder eyes.

“I—I don’t know…I just need to hug you.” you croak out.

Without furthering thought she pulls you inside her dormitory, is silently thankful her roommate isn’t here, and brings you to her bed where she solemnly wraps her arms around your shoulders. Your face sinks into the crook of her neck and finally, you let your tears flow like river streams. You two are in this state for a long time, with Mi-Cha rocking your bodies back and forth and you choking on sobs.

Once you finally calm down, you pick your head up and couldn’t stop hiccuping uncontrollably. “I—I don’t think Sae-byeok wants to s—see me anymore.”

She winces and pulls you back into her arms. “Fuck. Hey, don’t worry I’m here if you need to talk.”

But you didn’t want to. You just want to cry your emotions out until there’s nothing left but a void in your chest.

With every tear you shed, you wish it contains the memories of Sae-byeok that you want to forget about. But you don’t know what’s more painful, forgetting or wanting to forget.

If you know yourself, at some point you might’ve loved her. And now that she’s left you for good—you have to turn this love into grief. But grief is just as much a human complexity as it is love, and you aren’t sure how long it’ll take for you to endure it and move past it. It might take you a lifetime to forget about Sae-byeok.

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13 @peelover25 @karli6 @kissedberries @bitchybananaflower @laurenkenss @saebyeokbliss @everly-summers-solace @we1rdth0ughts @wlvlurvsfimmia

#kang sae byeok #kang sae byeok x reader #squid game #squid game fanfic #fanfic #kang sae byeok squid game #kang sae byeok x fem!reader #wlw #wlw fanfic #kang saebyeok #kang saebyeok x reader #sae byeok #saebyeok #squid game x reader

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hipstersfoundmyrobot · 3 days ago

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Over the past ten years, Danny Fenton’s life has been a whirlwind, and that’s an understatement. Nonetheless, despite being the Ghost King and a consultant for the JLD as Phantom, Danny’s life is ordinary. Or as ordinary as a halfa king could manage.

Danny remembers being 17 and feeling so helpless and overwhelmed, especially when Jazz moved away for college. He didn’t expect that to be the end of his struggles. His sister coming back for Christmas break with the Justice League in tow was not on his bingo card, nor were his parents and Vlad being tried for supervillainy or the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW being a hoax. However, according to Tucker, the most surprising part of their senior year was their trio graduating with near-perfect attendance and good grades.

Nowadays, life is good for Danny. While his responsibilities as the High King of the Infinite Realms and his attachment to his haunt keep him from leaving Amity Park, he has found balance. After his identity as Phantom was revealed to the town, the community rallied in support of the half-dead teenager who saw his parents go to jail. Following Jazz’s insistence, he has enrolled in an online Astronomy and Engineering degree, which he finds much easier than high school. He doesn’t even have to worry about money, being the new owner of FentonWorks and DalvCo.

All in all, life is, finally, cutting the halfa some slack, which is why he now has more free time to fill, ergo his current situation. Sam, Tucker and Jazz are debating on his computer screen about what hobby he should try.

“Danny, dude, I’m telling you, you should take programming classes. We could make our own video game and-“Tucker’s excited rant cuts off as Jazz mutes the both of them.

“After the ecto-contamination of everyone in Amity, you’ll probably find a lot of people willing to join an environmentalist group. You know my activism rubbed off on you.” Sam’s voice is almost covered by the deep sigh that escapes Tucker and Danny can’t help but smile at his best friends’ antics.

“You guys, we’re trying to figure out something Danny would like. Baby brother, what is something you’d like to do ?” Danny can’t help but miss his sister when he sees her exasperated smile at his friends’ insistence that he tries something they like.

Leaning against his desk, his face in his hand, he shrugs, a bit embarrassed. “Actually, I did have an idea but I’m not sure.” On his screen, his sister’s face is open and supportive, meanwhile, Sam and Tucker don’t seem to have noticed they were inaudible. “I, maybe, wanted to try streaming ? You guys obviously don’t have as much time to play video games with me and it’s really not the same on my own… I like the idea of finding a community of people who enjoy listening to my weird space and ghost rants without having to leave Amity. Not that the Parkers aren’t my friends but—” He pushes his hair out of his face with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “I guess I want to meet new people ? But I don’t actually want to meet them.”

“That sounds great, Danny.” Jazz, supportive as always, finally unmutes the two.

“Yeah dude, I’m down to help you set it all up. You’re gonna need equipment-“

“And you’re gonna need to ectoproof it too. Are you going to hide your identity ? Acting like ghosts and your powers are the norm would be so funny.”

“Right, you could ask a ghost artist to make your channel art. You clearly already have a niche thing going, you know ?” His Fraid’s excitement makes Danny feel more confident in his idea.

“What do you guys think of the name CosmicSpecter ?”

Jason has been back in Gotham for about two years. His relationship with his family is still strained but it is improving. He has a good thing going with Red Hood and his gang. However, he is still plagued by the Pit Madness, despite his best efforts he still doesn’t feel like himself. Meanwhile, everyone around him has accepted, however reluctantly, that this is who he is now, but Jason refuses to. He knows this isn’t him, but he is resigned that the foreign rage trying to control him will torment him until his (next) dying breath.

Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s boredom, maybe it’s the scary TubeYou algorithm that has him clicking on the livestream thumbnail while tittering close to the Pit Rage. The guy has 463 subscribers and 6 current viewers and he’s halfway through a burrito when Jason joins. The light is dim, and his eyes seem to be reflecting the light. A meta, maybe ?

“Hiya ‘botched-resurrection’, nice to see a fellow undead here.” He takes a swig of a too green liquid from a soda bottle and flashes the camera with a wide smile. “We’ll go back to playing once I’m done eating. This new joint opened a few years ago, since our town isn’t under a fake government lockdown anymore, and honestly, I’m pleasantly surprised. My sister is probably relieved I’m eating something other than a burger.” The guy’s eyes widen slightly when a $20 donation comes through from one ‘jazz_hands’. “Really Jazz ? ‘Twenty whole American dollars in hopes you’ll eat healthier food one day’. There are real vegetables in here you know ? You’re being too harsh. Also stop sending me money as an excuse to embarrass me on stream.”

This is the start of the prologue I'm posting on ao3 tomorrow probably, I'll link once it's up

Streamer Danny AU, but he’s a really minor streamer. Like, he does it mainly just for his own fun and only has a few intermittent viewers.

But somehow Jason finds his channel anyway, and something about his voice is captivating. The pit rage quiets down in his presence. So he starts tuning in to basically every stream, or just putting on the VODs in the background to fall asleep to.

And on the other side, Danny takes note of this new subscriber who’s quite possibly his first truly dedicated viewer. So he starts interacting with him on stream sometimes - greeting him when he shows up in the chat, specifically asking/answering questions, etc

Needless to say, this did not help Jason’s growing semi-parasocial crush in the slightest…

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny phantom x dc #danny phantom x dc crossover #dead on main ship #dead on main #streamer danny fenton

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chimielie · 2 days ago

Text

pretty damn close

summary: Suna x F!Reader. he picks you up.

wc: 1.3k

cw: none. reader is having a bad night for unspecified reasons and suna makes her feel better by being his weird aquarius self

a/n: i think i may be more attracted to suna’s car than i am to suna because i feature it so often

It’s a bad night. The stars are hidden behind a thick haze of city smog, the honking of cars is obscured by the thick ringing in your ears. Your knees touch through the rips in your jeans as you shiver, trying not to think about the germs on the sidewalk.

The scent of a cigarette floats through the air. You don’t smoke, but you could.

Before you ask the stranger for a light, a car pulls up in front of you, braking loudly through the miasma.

You put a hand on the door handle and pull yourself up, waiting for the click of the lock’s release before you pull it open and slide inside.

“Hey,” Suna says, and you chatter your teeth together in response.

He reaches over and turns up the heat in his car three notches. You sigh and drop your shoulders at the rush of warm air that comes through the vents, tucking your legs up as he speeds away from the potential of a nicotine buzz.

“Can we go to your place tonight?”

You expect a side glance or a questioning tone. You have a defensive answer prepared, brushing off your growing discomfort with your roommates, the way their eyes track you as you lead him through the common area to your bedroom. You don’t want to field their assumptions tonight, the ones you know they make because of the smudged eyeliner around his waterline, the black swoop of his hair, the careless way he walks, his center of gravity pulled back toward wherever it is he wants to be that is never, ever where he is.

“Sure,” he says, like it’s nothing. Maybe it is. Maybe the little world you occupy, your mini-lanterns dangling from the ceiling and tchotchkes lining the windowsill, can expand outside its limits.

The lines of Shizuoka’s road shine bright white under his headlights, toothpaste and baking soda strips against the asphalt. You twist your head so you can see the sky out the window and try to take a deep sniff of his car door’s lining without his noticing. Teak and gasoline, you like this smell so much you imagine it when you’re at work, when you’re walking to the grocery.

“This was our first time calling, you know,” you say to the stars.

“Was it?” There’s a little frown in his voice. “No way, we’ve gotta have called before.”

You shake your head.

“I checked my call log, and I never clear it.”

“Huh.”

“Huh,” you echo. “And I don’t like calling, so that’s probably why. I feel so awkward.”

“You’re always awkward,” he says.

“Not true!” You try to punch his arm, but you’re still pressed up against the window so now you’re lying across his passenger seat, twisted into a bow. You graze his sleeve. “I’m whimsical. On the phone, I feel like I’m in a business meeting.”

“I am not a business-y person,” he says.

“No, you’re really matter-of-fact,” you respond. Your punching hand is limp at your side now and he reaches over, picks it up and shakes it side to side like it’s something dead. He folds his fingers over yours and you stay carefully still. “I can see it in another universe.”

“Then in that universe you must be an heiress,” he says. “I’ll seduce you for your money.”

“I hope you’re not doing that now,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “I don’t make half as much as you, with tips.”

“But you’re so high-class,” he says, in a terrible tone that makes you suspicious that he’s making fun of you. You stick your tongue out and blow a raspberry, ladylike. “And I’m not seducing you.”

It’s true. Suna comes over, toes off his big boots made bigger by their chunky soles, sits on your bed and plays games with you. He eats all your snacks and he puts his hands up under your shirt, but just to trace his fingers over your skin in patterns to feel your stomach flip. He calls you a masochist but he never does anything about it.

“But you told ‘Samu I was your girlfriend,” you say, a whine that’s really a needle, sliding into his pressure points.

He throws the car into reverse and you cling to his hand, startled. Suna parallel parks in one try, showboating bastard, and gets out of the car and opens your door before you’re finished putting everything that spilled out of your purse on his floorboard back into it. You get out and he finds your hand again, but changes his mind and exchanges it to flatten his palm against the small of your back, burning a hole through your thin t-shirt.

You cross your arms and let him guide you into the building. His doorman is a blinking red button on a keypad that needs, counterintuitively, to be pressed if you want it to open. You poke his side, but he’s too well-trained by your boss and his twin brother, too hard to provoke. You don’t try very hard; you don’t like bothering Suna, you just want him to get tired of not telling you his secrets.

Suna’s apartment is enclosed behind a grey door marked 221. There’s no welcome mat, and inside isn’t welcoming either. He has nondescript dark grey furniture facing a big TV you can see your reflection in, sucking in your cheeks and pursing your lips. Behind you, he’s miming clawed hands and a snarling bite into your neck. When you turn to him, he’s very busy adjusting the way his keys hang on their hook.

“I didn’t say that,” Suna says, leading you to the kitchen, which has a butcher block island you’d like to kill him for. He opens his fridge and hands you a chilled bottle of water, a bar of dark chocolate with a bite taken out of it. You don’t like the texture but you take it to be polite. “I told ‘Samu you were my soulmate.”

“I just don’t feel like those two things are distinct,” you say. “I also really like being made aware of it when I’m in a relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship,” he says, putting his hands on your hips and hoisting you up onto the counter, you bending your knees and pushing to help him out a little. “I’m still working on that.”

“When’re you gonna be done?”

He puts his face in your chest, cheek against your heartbeat. You flush, lean your head on top of his, slide a hand into the gap between the collar of his shirt and his neck, your cold fingers raising goosebumps but garnering no other reaction. Annoying, annoying, annoying.

“When you’re not having a bad night,” his voice is muffled by your shirt. “But soon. Just be patient with me.”

“I’m not having a bad night anymore,” your face, twisting into a scowl, says otherwise. “And I’ve waited a bunch of lifetimes. How soon is soon?”

“When I’ve cleaned my bedroom,” he says. You can see into the room if you look left, a sliver of spare, clean space just like the rest of the apartment. “And when I stop being scared that I’m gonna screw it up.”

“I see,” you say thoughtfully, tapping your fingers against his neck in a staccato beat. “The relationship or the asking?”

“Asking,” he says, and then, very quiet, “you make me nervous.”

“That’s silly,” you laugh, “I’m half as scary as you are. You’re like a black hole. I’m just, like, a rock or something that got pulled in.”

When he pulls back to look at you, Suna’s eyes are haloed with a bright ring of yellow-grey lustre, a pinprick of pupil expanding to swallow the universe. There’s something crackling all around you, the buzz of atoms getting closer to combustion. He’s not actually touching you, but you can still feel it.

“Nah,” he says. “If you were anything, you’d be stars.”

#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq!! x reader #hq!! fluff #hq drabbles #hq x reader #hq fluff #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarō x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader fluff #suna rintarō x reader fluff #suna rintarou x reader fluff #suna rintaro x reader fluff

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marsdql · 1 day ago

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Get Me My Boyfriend ! [S.JY]

젤리캣 ╱ loving bf!jake х bimbo!reader ──── 0.8?Kㆍ fluff, crack ㆍ you interrupt your boyfriends university lecture for a…..jellycat? ㆍ @teddybeartaetae

You couldn’t sit through another boring lecture. Honestly, you had more important things to do—like getting a Jellycat plush, of course. But more importantly, Jake was in the middle of his class, and you needed him right now.

The minute the lecture hall doors opened, you walked in with your usual confident stride, wearing your cute oversized sweater and your big, bright eyes. Everyone turned to look, and you just smiled, pretending to be completely unaware of the chaos you were about to cause.

Jake, who had been mindlessly taking notes, glanced up at the sound of the door opening, immediately locking eyes with you. His face fell, and you could see the dread in his expression as he realized you were about to make a scene.

“Jaaaaaake!” you cooed, the sweetness in your voice drawing the attention of everyone in the room. You practically skipped down the aisle between desks, your eyes only on him. “I need you right now, babe!”

The professor, clearly not used to disruptions, paused mid-lecture, his brows furrowing. “Excuse me, young lady, this is a lecture. We don’t—”

But you weren’t listening. You turned to the professor, your voice unwavering and sweet. “Hi! I know this is a little inconvenient, but I need Jake. Could you, like, let him come outside with me? I really need him.” You gave a little pout to emphasize your point.

The professor blinked in disbelief, clearly trying to gather his thoughts before responding. “I don’t care what you need, young lady. This is a class. You can’t just interrupt it and—”

“I know, but see,” you interrupted with a smile, “Jake promised me he’d help me get a Jellycat after class. But I need him right now.” You flashed a big grin, completely unbothered by the tension building in the room.

Jake groaned, his head falling into his hands as his classmates started whispering and laughing at the absurdity of it all. He had known exactly what was going to happen as soon as you walked in. He should’ve texted you back, but now there was no turning back.

The professor’s face was red with irritation. “I can’t allow this! You’re disrupting my class, and that’s not—”

You gave him your best doe-eyed stare, tilting your head just enough to make it seem like you genuinely didn’t understand the issue. “Please, Mr. Professor? I really need my boyfriend to come with me. I’ve been waiting all week for the Jellycat bunny, and you know how important that is to me.”

Jake, still embarrassed but unable to do much, cleared his throat. “Professor, I’m sorry… I’ll… just step out for a minute.”

You grinned triumphantly, not even sparing the professor another glance as you reached for Jake’s hand. “Thanks, babe!”

The professor, obviously furious but unable to stop you, huffed as you led Jake outside, ignoring the students’ muffled laughs and whispers behind you.

As soon as you were out of the lecture hall and standing in the hallway, Jake turned to you, his face a mix of amusement and exasperation. “You really had to do that, huh?”

You looked at him with wide eyes, making your face as innocent as possible. “What? I just needed you! I told you I needed that Jellycat, and you were too busy in class to help me.”

Jake laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at you fondly. “You really don’t care, do you? Just walked right into my class like it was no big deal.”

You pouted, feeling a little guiltier than you wanted to admit. “But… now you’re mad at me, aren’t you?” Your voice turned small, though your eyes still had that mischievous sparkle.

Jake shook his head, stepping closer to you as he placed a hand on your shoulder, his tone suddenly soft. “You know I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m just… well, I don’t know why you can’t wait five more minutes to ask for something.”

You bit your lip, shifting on your feet. “But… I need it. You know I get all cranky when I don’t get what I want, and the Jellycat will make everything better.”

Jake’s expression softened instantly, and he let out a soft laugh. He knew exactly how to handle you when you got like this—when you acted all bratty and demanding, he knew you were just looking for some attention and affection. You were a sweet bimbo, and you just needed a little spoiling.

“You really think you can get away with anything, huh?” Jake teased, pulling you into a gentle hug. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, snuggling into his chest with a little hum of contentment. “I know I am. And you love me so much. You always give in to me.”

Jake chuckled, resting his chin on your head. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable. Alright, alright. I’ll get you the Jellycat. Just… no more interruptions in my class, okay?”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, sweet eyes. “Promise?”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Yeah, I promise.” He kissed the top of your head, his hand still resting on your back. “You’re a handful, but I’m not mad. Just… don’t do that again, okay? You’re lucky I love you.”

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m so lucky. Thanks, babe. You’re the best!”

Jake shook his head with a soft laugh, leading you to the door of the lecture hall. “Let’s get you your damn Jellycat before you start another scene.”

As the two of you walked off, you couldn’t help but giggle. You had gotten exactly what you wanted—and you knew Jake would always give in, no matter how chaotic your entrances were.

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everytimewetouch-dot-mp3 · 2 days ago

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it’s actually bonkers to me that there are xtians who aren’t aware of the great commission?? like that’s the whole point?? the church i grew up in (evangelical nondenom mega church flavor) had a whole week-long ‘convert the world’ celebration. i took a ‘go convert people’ class when i was like 12 and that was STRONGLY encouraged by the adults around me. it was celebrated as exceptional devotion.

i remember learning in 2nd grade that the goal was to ‘lead people to christ’ and immediately went and tried it on my friends from school.

i only learned after leaving the church like 7 years ago that proselytizing is disrespectful and invasive, because i grew up learning again and again that it’s the greatest good that you can do for someone else. that everyone is empty inside and just waiting for someone to show them the joy and fulfillment they’ll only find with christ. they had us reading the entire bible every year. they made little booklets and gave them to everyone (and that was, again, tens of thousands of people) and encouraged people to read it with their kids.

idk this is obviously not a defense of any of that, just. it’s fucked up on all sides. the fundie brainwashing ignorance of scripture side is vile. but i was raised on an analytical philosophical ‘close read the text, know it and understand it and internalize it—but only our interpretation’ tradition.

and the intellectualism is just as insidious because it all seems so deeply reasonable. on sundays they gave us their arguments and then supported them with the text, with the greek and hebrew and aramaic of the original texts, and that made those arguments feel watertight. they encouraged us to do the same. we were the ones who really understood, not like those hateful bigots who twisted scripture to their own ends.

there was a controversy once in my city. the baptist church next door had a sermon where the pastor said something homophobic like ‘if your son has a limp wrist, break it,’ and ofc people came to protest. but they were protesting on the corner across from us instead of them, so we went out and brought them water and folding chairs and put up a tent so they wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.

we prided ourselves on doing good, but the core of it was still the same and i didn’t realize it until i was far away to see the whole forest. until i heard that there was a mass exodus of young people because the pastor gave a transphobic sermon. until i spoke with other queer people who’d left and they asked questions i couldn’t answer.

i’m rambling. but yeah. it’s all insidious, it all finds a way to worm inside and make you think You’re Right.

Since posting that "how many mass graves and extinct cultures" post last month, I've had multiple Christians in the notes whining that there isn't a "specific instruction of belief that Christianity needs to wipe out every other religion in the world" in Christianity's teachings, and that it's all just The Church/King James/etc.

And every time, I point to the literal text of the passages of The Great Commission.

And nearly every time, that shuts them up; the only time it didn't, it was to engage in some disgusting semantical goalpost moving.

But it's like...

Why do Christians not know the content of their own texts? Is your faith really so tribalistic and totemic around the concept of "Jesus" that you all don't bother to actually read the religious texts?

It feels like it must be--I've heard of too many instances of Christians walking out of readings of The Sermon On The Mount because they think it's "liberal nonsense" and the like, but I just find it baffling and more than a little sad that I, a Jew, apparently knows the New Testament's text better than the people who swear by it and ostensibly believe and follow it.

#sometimes i’ll say something totally normal to me and my bestie will be like #JO YOU GREW UP IN A CULT #and tbf the ‘inner members’—there were like 200 of us who had drunk the koolaid real deep and brought their kids along #that was pretty culty #very isolate and control and ‘our truth is the only truth and we have proof’

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kxtsukixoxo · 22 hours ago

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Hi!! I love your work .❤️❤️❤️ could you do izuku midoriya with the prompt “i'm going to make you regret this.”. Maybe the reader has been teasing izuku all day while he’s at his office or something like that.

authors note - i had so much fun writing this!! <3

here’s the valentine’s day event, there’s still prompts available!! ⊹. warnings - nsfw content

izuku groaned as your notification bubble popped up on his phone, once again. he knew exactly what that meant, yet another text or picture teasing him mercilessly, while he worked.

he briskly searched for the call button underneath your display picture as he huffed on his way to the bathroom, you hadn’t answered yet. izuku’s right hand balanced his frame on the sink behind him, as the other held his phone, impatiently waiting for you to pick up. you finally did, “cut it out babe” he whined as you giggled, “nah uh, this is what you get for leaving me alone, all slick and wet for you, but you’re not here to help me” he could practically hear your pouting, as your words dripped off him like honey running loosely down his body. “fuck.” izuku panted as he threw his head back, “i’m gonna make you regret this baby” he huffed out as he loosened his tie. your giggle could be heard on the other end of the line as you whispered out “i look forward to it zu”

izuku rushed to his car, after cancelling all his classes for the day, making sure aizawa would see to his class, he plopped into the drivers seat as he ran his hand through his hair. “you’re gonna be the death of me” izuku panted out while he spoke to himself, twisting the keys, igniting the engine.

you’d js got out of the shower, tightening the string around your bathrobe, when you heard the impatient wrap of someone’s knuckles against your door, figuring it was possibly urgent, you rushed to the door, forgetting about changing into your set of clothes splayed across the bed.

just a millisecond after you opened the door, izuku’s hands slid around your waist as he buried his face into dip between your neck and shoulder, “you really shouldn’t walk around like that baby” he muttered against your soft skin. you couldn’t tell when he did it, but you somehow ended up pressed against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he explored every nook and corner of your mouth, finally lifting you off and carrying you towards the queen sized bed, the both of you shared. “this is punishment. don’t forget that hm?” izuku murmured as his green tussled hair fell onto your face as he placed a kiss on your lips.

“Oh, pretty girl," Izuku murmurs, a faux pout curling his lips as he admires the tears rolling down your face. A thumb wipes them away languidly, drawing slow circles over the apple of your cheek while he coos at your little blubbers, your timid sniffles and delicate whimpers. "You're doing amazing, such a good little thing, aren't you?"

The lilt in his voice is sly, sadistic, and his eyes shine with something wicked, barely-contained in the darkened green hues that leer down at you. His words hardly register, a heavy fog crawling through your mind as you come down from yet another high; all you can feel are his lips pressing against your cheeks in gentle pecks, and his tongue flicking over the salty trails while he mumbles against your skin.

"Look at my baby." He brushes his nose against yours in a soft bunny kiss before pulling back. "You sound so cute crying for me like that."

The sobs that were dying down begin bubbling up once more as his hand swirls around your swollen clit. Your legs tremble beneath his touch, burning as they tense in anticipation of the pleasure only Izuku can bring you; your breath hitches in your throat, a hiccuped gasp escaping you when his already-drenched fingers slide back into your quivering hole. You're sensitive to the touch, and he only takes advantage of that, crooking his digits against your silky walls to make you arch into him, panting breathlessly.

"Oh, is this what you want, angel?" he asks, unyielding as he slides a third finger in, and the stretch is excruciating in the most delicious way.

"It's too much, zuku-can't-again-ah, please!"

"'please?' Please what, baby?" he urges, his other hand smoothing down your body to circle your breasts, pinching and tweaking a bud to push your body to its limits. Your nerves are burning like a live wire, precariously sensitive to the slightest touch, just waiting for the right stimulant to push you over the edge and set your body alight. "Want me to stop?"

"No!" you cry, shaking your head as you cling to his fingers, pussy tightening around him as the waves of another high begin rolling in. "No- don't stop, don't- want you to- keep- like that, like that, please."

He hums against your neck, teeth teasing over your pulse with little nibbles. "Like this? Are you close, angel?"

"So, so close-"

"You want to cum for me? Cum all over my fingers again?"

You're nodding your head, barely paying attention to his words. Yeah, yeah, leaves your lips in high-pitched squeals as your nails dig into his skin, the tides of your release rearing back to crash all over you. "Please— please, want to cum, gonna— gonna cum—"

And just as the wave of your climax peaks, it evaporates into thin air. You let out a whiny exclamation at the loss of an orgasm, a pitiful no, please, please— slurring out of you when Izuku pulls his fingers away completely, leaving your greedy, needy hole to clench around nothing, desperately clinging to the receding tides of your high.

Your hand drops to finish yourself off, to catch the waves before they disperse, but Izuku easily twines his fingers with yours, pinning your hand above your head to hold you still. You're humping the air, rutting against his hardness to bring you some relief, but it's too late, it's all gone. You crumble beneath him, melting into a puddle of woe and tears as you look up at him with those pretty, doe eyes, pleading for a semblance of his mercy.

"Aw, poor baby." The mock pity in his voice is overflowing as he ignores the way your bottom lip quivers with the loss of your relief, the way your brows furrow with stunted, childish anger at his action. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he murmurs, but the devilish upturn of his smirk says otherwise, "but I told you before, didn't I?"

Once more, his hand slips down to your dripping sex, rubbing the oversensitive bundle of nerves in slow, firm figure-eights. "This is a punishment" he grunts, dipping his head to lavish his tongue over the sweet spots on your neck before he sinks his teeth into the plush skin and buries his fingers back into your tight, warm cunt. "And I don't think you've learned your lesson just yet."

#kri’s valentine’s day event!#midoriya izuku #mha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #deku #mha izuku #izuku x reader #bnha izuku #izuku midoriya #ao3 izuku #mha midoriya #midoriya x reader #bnha midoriya #mha smut #bnha smut

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hiiikiko · 2 days ago

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𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[7: ex’s and oh…]

tlou m.list | series m.list

spiderman!ellie x reader

synopsis: could ellie be anymore confusing?? is she even worth the headache? i mean you do have better options…. particularly a blonde who invited you to a ball….. or maybe a particular masked vigilante….?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I thought you were over Abby,” Gwen arched her brow as she held up another dress against her and looked in the full length mirror opposite where you sat.

“I-I am.. I think but.. I don’t know, Gwen, I can’t keep waiting around for Ellie to wake up,” you grumbled and shook your head at the dress Gwen was holding, “No, that colours hideous.”

“Yeah.. kinda reminds me of the dress I wore in sixth grade, remember that? I threw up all over it.. ugh, now I’m nauseous,” you giggled as you made your way over to help her look through dresses, “Hey, are you not gonna get a new dress?”

You held up a dress to Gwen, “Nah, Markus is making me one, he said something about me being free advertising, wearing one of his dresses around all those snobs will do his work some justice by bringing attention to it,” you hung the dress back up.

“Ugh, lucky…” Gwen whined and flopped back onto the couch, “Not only are you getting a dress customed made for you, you have one of the hottest girls taking you to the ball? Your life is like a fucking drama, like Gossip Girl or something.”

“Lucky isn’t what i’d call it.”

ELLIE’S POV:

Ellie bit the cap of her pen, trying desperately to pay attention to what the professor was saying but her mind was still reeling from what Jesse had told her a few days prior.

After arriving at Jesse’s apartment, he pulled up a video of another Spider-Man..? They looked very identical to Ellie but.. their suit was all black and looked almost liquid, not to mention this ‘Spidey’ looked bigger.. more threatening than her. News sources around the city were saying that Spidey had wen ‘Back to Black’ which she did appreciate the pun but it didn’t make sense at all because she had never owned a black suit previously and on top of that, this Spidey seemed to be better than her.. they were stronger, faster but at the same time.. they were rougher and seemed almost animalistic in their movements.. not to mention, they looked a little too familiar for Ellie’s taste.

“Ellie? Hellooooo?”

Ellie nearly jumped out of her skin, “Y-yeah? What’s up?”

“I said class was dismissed,” the profesor chuckled and roughly pat her on the back, causing Ellie to let out a little ‘oof.’

“Yeah, sorry.. I was distracted..”

“My dear girl, you should go back home, I’ll even extend the deadline on the final essay for you, just.. just don’t tell anyone okay? It’s really not a secret anymore but you’re by far my favourite in this class, hell, maybe even the whole school,” he chuckled and waved his hand as he made his easy down the stairs, “I’ll see you tomorrow for coffee.”

“Bye professor,” Ellie smiled softly, momentarily distracted from the dire situation at hand.

Gotta find them before things get outta hand.

YOUR POV:

Abby: Did you get your dress?

You: ya

Abby: I’ll pick you up at 8 tmrw

You: k

Abby: don’t sound so enthusiastic

You: k

You rolled your eyes and tossed your phone down next to you, you so did not want to go to this stupid ball. You grumbled and sat up, knowing that you should probably get something to eat, so you tossed on your favourite Spider-Man hoodie and some warm jeans and sneakers to head downstairs. You had made a little extra this month, so you decided to treat yourself to your favourite food.

You plugged your ears with your airpods and stepped into the chilly street.

“Shoulda worn a warmer jacket,” you muttered and made your way through the somewhat empty streets, shoving your hands deep into your pockets and humming softly along to the song blasting through your headphones.

The crisp night air soothed your reeling mind, almost cleansing it of Ellie and Abby.

To get to the restaurant, you had to pass through a couple alleys… you knew you shouldn’t, you could get robbed… or worse but part of you knew that wouldn’t happen because you had your guardian angel on your side.. right?

You weaved your way through garbage bags, potholes, and dumpsters. There were a few bums here and there but most were either drunk out of their minds or poor down on their luck business men.

The echoes from your hums bounced off the walls and back to you as you walked.

Fuck, this is reckless… maybe I shouldn’t be doing this..

You shove your hands deeper into your pockets and chew on your inner cheek… this was reckless but you needed to know if he would come.

Lost in thought, you didn’t even see the approaching shadow behind you until you felt a cold hand on your shoulder. Jumping with a yelp, you spun around with a smile on your face.

“I thought you’d never sho—,” your smile is quickly wiped off your face when you come face to face with a tall gangly man, his eyes red from too much alcohol, his breath sour with beer and cigarettes, and face bloated from too many drunken nights.

“Well, here I am,” he smiles crookedly and brings a knobby hand up to his chin, rubbing at the stubble there, his beady eyes roaming over your finger, clearly sizing you up.

You feign a polite chuckle, “Sorry, I-I thought you were someone else..”

“I’ll be whoever you want me to be, sweetheart.”

Ew.

“Yeah, no thanks,” you scoff and turn around to head back down the alley.

“Come on! I’m a great actor,” his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you closer.

“Hey look, I’m not fucking interested,” you say through gritted teeth.

His smile never wavers, “Why the fuck are you acting like such a bitch?” He pulls you even closer, you can feel his vile breath against your neck and a slimy hand snaking itself around your waist.

“Get off!” you yell and stomp your foot down onto his foot before pulling your knee back up and slamming it into his balls.

The man keels over, “You fucking bitch!”

You roll your eyes, raising your leg to kick him again but quickly withdraw your leg when the man pulls out a gun. Before the man could pull the trigger he’s pushed against the wall by an… invisible force…..or..? Is that webs..? You take a step closer, your eyes peering into the darkness, making out two figures, one on top and pummeling it’s arm into the pulp on the ground, the sound of grunts and please to ‘stop’ echoeing throughthe once hum filled alleyway.

Suddenly the cries stop and you feel another hand on your shoulder, you screamed and spun around.

“Woah, woah, calm down! It’s just me, you can put that er.. uh, pepper spray away?” Spidey chuckled and nodded at your glitter bottle of pepper spray that definitely would not have worked.

“H-Holy shit!” you yell exasperatedly, a breathy chuckle leaving your lips.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” he yelled, you totally weren’t expecting that..

“W-What are you—?”

“You could’ve been seriously hurt!” Spidey yells and puts his hands on his head, “God, are you that reckless?”

“I-I was going t-to get d-d-dinner,” you cry.

Spidey puts his hands down, letting out a sigh, “Then come on.. let’s get your dinner.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[A/N: so sorry for the delay, a sequence of events happened that prevented me from having access to this account and giving me time to write, next chapter will be longer :p]

taglist: @elliecoochieeater @wavesgocrash @g3latin @elliesflowersblog @usuck @elliessweetheart @miss-chananandler-bong @lvlymicha @prettywhnyoucry @g0d-wont-let-me-die @errorlovernotfound99 @thatgiraffefromtlou @ilovewomenfr @abbyswh0r3

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angelthefandomobsessed · 2 days ago

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After putting it off continuously, I have downloaded and started to play chapter 1. I’m riiiight before the trial, so I decided to go back and read this analysis to see if it was still holding up…

(Some chapter 1 spoilers ahead)

Desmond is totally a bodyguard to Eloise or something, right? Eva had his secret which implied his priority was protecting someone else (unless I’ve gotten mixed up which is a real possibility, I am very tired). He’s seems to be around her a lot (if memory serves, they were both in the courtyard in the prologue), and fencing is a very upper class pastime. Plus, one of the most famous swan stories is the swan princess, adding to that air of nobility that Eloise has.

I wrote: ‘Sharks, apparently, symbolise protection and guidance, so I think Desmond will probably pair up with another character... which will lead to an untimely death, with a very sad flashback scene at the end of a trial.’

Hi, hello, I fear I may have been on point with that.

I also wrote about Wolfgang being a wolf in sheep’s clothing, which was directly mentioned through the motive. Not the most outrageous of predictions, but good for my ego all the same.

To put my predictions for the first trial down (for funsies):

I don’t think it can be Damon, Eva, Cassidy, Jett, Mark, Kai, Jean, or Grace. The only potential exceptions in this list are Jean and Grace, who arrived late. For either of them to be the culprit, the murder would have needed to involve a trap that could be set off without them. However, for that to be the case, there would need to be another person in the boiler room, as someone was heard running away, and all eight people were accounted for at the time.

Ruling out Jean and Grace, I’m left with Toshiko, Ingrid, Diana, Wenona, Ulysses, Eloise, and Desmond.

I believe that Ulysses wrote the note. It matches his handwriting the closest, and he is always seen with a notebook. The wire piece at the scene also looked like a leg from a pair of glasses, with how rounded the end was. I’m pretty sure Wenona gave him an alibi, so I’m not fully convinced that he’s the killer, but I have sus on him.

Toshiko is a little suspicious, as she mentioned cereal at the start of the chapter, and cereal was apparently involved in the breaking of the generator. I’m not double checking this in case I get spoiled, but I imagine she wears socks and sandals of some sort because that’s traditional wear? Eva (I think it was her) mentioned that the person running sounded like they were in socks. There’s also the fact that Ingrid was sick, and Toshiko was her room mate, and that she was confirmed that have visited the pharmacy, and that Wolfgang appears to have a pin prick at his neck… She’s afraid of needles, though, so that might clear her (unless she was lying, but that seems… convoluted).

Diana is super suspicious, but way too obviously so? It could be her (she eluded to having some sort of pre-established plan for the morning, but then claimed to be testing make-up).

Logically, I suspect Ulysses. Narratively, I suspect Eloise.

I am not confident either way, I will be amazed if it’s someone one of the tournaments 8.

As for the method, I’ll go with this theory: Wolfgang was either called down to the boiler room through the note (OR he intercepted a summons meant for someone else), he arrived around 8:10, as instructed. He was knocked out with the rolling pin, the killer drew blood from his neck to splatter through the halls (falsifying evidence), and set some kind of bomb up at the generator. They put Wolfgang in the water, reversed the lock, locked the door. If this is anything close to the order of events, then I’m actually more suspicious of Jean.

Some kind of magic battery was mentioned, which Jett and Jean spoke about. If that was the basis for the destruction of the generator (or, if it was the cause of the electricity), that would implicate the two people who knew about it. Jean was late to the tournament, and knew that being there would give him an alibi. Wolfgang had burns on his hands - maybe Jett knows a thing or two about that specific burning and can crack the case open.

Okay, I’m going to bed now, before I start putting red wool on the walls.

Danganronpa Project Eden's Garden: Animal Symbolism

Okay, so I just finished the prologue (adored it, the writing is impeccable), and noticed that each character features an animal on their clothing. I'm sure tons of people have pointed it out already, but I thought it'd be fun to go through the symbolism of each, alongside any other observations I had.

Damon Maitsu:

Damon's signature animal is one of the more obvious ones - it's the big snake on his tie. Biblically, snakes are kind of a big deal... Just one snake, really, which gave all of the others a bad name. In 'Garden of Eden' arc of the Bible (which is relevant for obvious reasons), a snake tempts Eve to eat the forbidden fruit. The snake basically says "Hey queen, the apple won't kill you, it'll show you the truth, God's a liar." Adam and Eve eat the fruit, condemning humanity to eternal suffering.

Painting Damon as the snake tells us a lot about his role in the narrative and his characterisation. The main theme for Eden's Garden seems to be 'head vs heart', or 'logic vs emotion'. While some characters lean towards emotion, Damon leans towards logic... But based on the Pathos system, he doesn't fully condemn emotion - it can be a good tool when it comes to winning arguments, after all.

At the end of the prologue, Damon disagrees with seeing the good in everyone. He argues that the ultimates are more likely to stab each other in the back than to help each other unconditionally... In other words, he argues that ultimates are ambitious, to the point of throwing away their morals - because he himself is ambitious to a fault.

While a lot of people see snakes as creatures of evil (particularly when it comes to THE snake in the Bible), it could be argued that the snake is an agent of the greater good. Yes, the snake was the catalyst for the fall of humanity, but you could argue it was also the catalyst for the first critical thought. Adam and Eve questioned the word of their creator and chose to go against him. That didn't end very well for them, but you could argue it liberated them.

Would you rather be a sheep, at the mercy of your shepherd, or a snake that sees the world for what it truly is?

Wolfgang Akire:

Speaking of sheep... Wolfgang has a pretty neat (very symbolic) sheep pin. The idea of him picking out a sheep pin in like... a Claire's Accessories is very funny to me.

Much like snakes, sheep are also very Biblically relevant. In the Bible, God's people are usually cloaked in sheep imagery. God is the shepherd (fun fact: 'shepherd' derives from 'sheep' 'herd'), and the sheep are at his mercy. In that light, a sheep is a truly powerless thing.

Perhaps Wolfgang's sheep pin denotes him as a follower rather than a leader. Not to a specific person, but rather to an ideology - to his own morals, which he seems very attached to. Sheep are often seen as weak, existing only to be devoured by stronger, more predatory animals.

But this symbolism might exist here to be subverted. One of the most popular sheep-based phrases is (drum roll please): "Wolf in sheep's clothing".

Lawyer man is, quite literally, a wolf in sheep's clothing. His name has the word 'wolf' in it. He has a sheep on his clothing.

Does Wolfgang obsess over justice due to a guilty conscious? Is it a cover to mask his deepest, most despicable thoughts? Only time will tell, but I'm onto you, lawyer man... If that's even your real name.

Eva Tsunaka:

Okay, so I'm not 100% sure if Eva's animal is a raven or a crow, but I don't think it matters too much, people tend to perceive 'ominous medium-sized black bird' in a similar way, regardless of the specifics. Eva has a black feather in her hair and a badge with a bird's head on it. The badge looks a little bit emu-ish (which would be really funny), but the general vibe is more in line with a crow/raven.

For simplicity's sake, I'll mostly talk about ravens, because I think (don't quote me on this, I have not read the actual Bible) crows are never actually mentioned... but ravens are, so we'll go with that.

SO, ravens, black birds. Apparently, the first bird to be mentioned by name in the Bible is the raven, which... lines up with Eva being the first named bird character we meet (there are a lot of bird people, we'll get to it). During the whole Noah's Arc debacle, Noah sent out a raven to scout for dry land - it didn't come back (I think? It gets mentioned, 'tos and fros' and then doesn't get mentioned again, so I think it dipped which honestly, girlboss move).

Other than that, a raven was used as a divine messenger at one point, but I think the much more interesting (and relevant) aspects of the raven is the general symbolism.

Ravens are usually seen as bad news - much like the snake, they get a bad rep. While they are often seen as bad omens, they can also be seen as beings of spiritual wisdom. They see more than others can, much like Eva. When the others start to do the whole 'We'll never kill each other!' it's Eva who disagrees, seeing the reality of the situation.

Based on the word 'Danganronpa' being associated with the game, we can assume she's correct, and that the bodies will start hitting the floor very soon.

Eva is wise and holds a lot of knowledge, but she is distrusted for reasons outwith her control. She didn't ask to be the ultimate liar - some random organisation sent her a letter one day putting that label on her.

Interestingly, ravens are the natural enemies of farmers... and Wolfgang has a distinct agricultural reference on his lapel.

To summarise: people don't like ravens, but they're very smart birds who can (in certain mythologies/cultures, at least), see beyond the surface level).

Toshiko Kayura:

Toshiko's assigned animal is a little harder to spot. Two flamingos are on her skirt as a decal, making them less obvious (especially during waist-up shots).

Okay, so I'm no expert on this, but I'm pretty sure there aren't any flamingos in the Bible. Flamingos played a part in Egyptian beliefs, being associated with Ra, and they might actually be the original inspiration for phoenixes which... is kind of hilarious? The Aztecs saw them as sacred, and in Hindu culture they symbolise hamsa, a divine vehicle, which symbolises the realise from samsara, aka the cycle of suffering.

So... that could be a thing relating to Toshiko. She could be destined to act as a turning point in the narrative (either through death or through character development, same difference).

Or, we could go with the really obvious interpretation of 'flamingo = romance'. Which is very on-brand. Additionally, flamingos represent balance and elegance - mainly because of their 'standing on one leg' trick. Toshiko most likely strives to embody the qualities of a flamingo in these regards.

The use of flamingos in Toshiko's design might point to her being 'the heart' of the group. She's shown to be quite emotional (becoming flustered when challenged, avoiding the investigation, getting into an argument over gremlin-hood with Grace), despite trying to emulate a mature aura. She speaks in frivolous, convoluted imagery, which is peak fourteen-year-old behaviour, and if anything bad happens to her I will cry :D

Ulysses Wilhelm:

Rather than having a picture of an animal, Ulysses wears an owl pendant. Owls represent wisdom, and are particularly fitting for Ulysses due to him being more of a night owl.

Biblically, owls are seen as unclean birds, alongside ravens. They aren't overly relevant, but are (allegedly, according to some random Bible forum) used to symbolise loneliness, desolation, guilt and mourning. In a broader sense, owls are seen as wise, critical-thinking creatures, and independent.

Because of this, I think Ulysses will fall into the Damon/Eva camp of thinking, due to his historical knowledge. Because if history's taught us anything, it's that people can't be trusted, they will self-sabotage, and murder is inevitable.

I don't have much else to say - Ulysses feels like an early victim/blackened candidate, unfortunately, so I don't think he'll be playing a major role narratively.

Desmond Hall:

This one's a little hard to spot immediately (and when I did spot it, I wasn't sure which animal it belonged to), but according to the concept art Desmond has a shark tooth earring.

There are no sharks in the Bible. Sharks, apparently, symbolise protection and guidance, so I think Desmond will probably pair up with another character... which will lead to an untimely death, with a very sad flashback scene at the end of a trial. Or he'll survive, who says Biblical relevancy matters? Sharks are pretty cool and so is Desmond.

I think he'll be an optimist in the situation, but I... don't have much to say regarding his animal motif.

Grace Madison:

This one is pretty up there for the 'easiest to spot award'. Grace's animal is a rabbit, which can be seen by her (adorable) rabbit-eared visor.

Biblically rabbits are pretty irrelevant, but symbolically they're very prominent. Rabbits are probably most famous for their easter connotations (you'd think they'd be Biblical, but no, it just says not to eat them). Rabbits are also known as lucky animals - 'rabbit feet' are seen as lucky talismans...

If Grace ends up with a severed foot, I'm going to lose my mind.

Anyway, since Grace is the resident 'reckless and crude' character, I would theorise her link to rabbits would be 'rebirth'. Rabbits are associated with spring, which is associated with rebirth. I think Grace (who is described as someone who burns every bridge she makes) will undergo the Fuyuhiko treatment and see a lot of character development.

Not much else for me to say here, but rabbits are generally seen as active animals (energiser bunny, the Scorbunny line), so... yay sports..?

Diana Venicia:

I do not trust this girl as far as I can throw her. I saw her across the room and thought, "No, you're evil", and the chameleon bracelet did not help her case.

Like... not only does it suggest she's hiding something, or that she's a social chameleon, but it looks like a handcuff, that cannot be comfortable. And oddly enough, chameleons do feature in the Bible... and it's very odd, and very interesting.

Basically, chameleons conform to their surroundings through their unique abilities. God likes that for them, but not for humans - apparently, they should challenge things rather than just conforming to them. Which like, okay, someone changed their tune from "Don't do this one thing, no I will not elaborate". In actuality, what this means is "you should not be different on Monday to how you were on Sunday", aka, be #authentic.

Also, chameleons are seen as 'not standing up for what's right', so I guess that's where Diana falls on the morality spectrum, maybe possibly?

Diana is hiding something, she's on my mastermind radar but it feels a little too obvious? If she's not a mastermind, she hiding something and is a killer, nothing can redeem her from being shady in my eyes. I'm onto you, make-up girl...

(My guess is the beauty industry/Hollywood requires a degree of fakery, and she hates it, but she wanted to be successful so she gave into the fakery, and lost her true self in the process. And hey, maybe at some point she decided that she had to see the true twistedness of humanity via a killing game, who knows? Plus, make-up, that's very Junko-ish of her, just saying-)

Jean DeLamer:

Okay, so some people got 'owl' or 'flamingo', but this man got a whole dragon. And he cannot be more deserving of it, fly high king.

I really didn't think there were dragons in the Bible, but apparently they get a mention (in all fairness, it's a real big book). Fun fact: Biblically, they are usually mentioned to reference sea monsters. On brand for our sea captain. Bad news though, dragons are pretty exclusively evil (sometimes straight-up Satan), and are vanquished by God. So... Not great for Jean, honestly, that's concerning.

Could he have a connection to the killing game? He could be a traitor of some sort, or he could try to rise up against the KG and get struck down.

Basically: Jean has no power here, he will lose every time, if the Bible-dragons are anything to go by.

Anyways, dragons are pretty relevant in... most cultures, so this is probably the most interesting thing I can dig up.

Jett Dawson:

In my original post, I mislabelled Jett's animal as a wolf. Somebody in the comments corrected me, pointing out that it's a coyote. Coyotes are closely related to wolves, so there's some symbolic overlap, but I'll rewrite the section anyways, because the original didn't shed much light on anything.

Biblically, coyotes are in a bit of an odd spot. They're seen as cunning and dangerous for the most part, but in Isaiah's passage (disclaimer: I haven't read it, I'm doing the deeply unacademic thing of trusting 'straightforwardguidance'.com) he complains that coyotes and lizards are more grateful to him than humans. This is used to demean the coyote; a wild animal is better than people in Isaiah's eyes, placing them at the low end of societal importance (not literally, ofc).

Apparently, the bible also describes these animals as being wise, due to their hunting tactics. Coyotes will hunt rabbits as a team, with one tiring a rabbit out and another finishing it off. This little tidbit does not bode well for Grace, our rabbit. But, to be fair, the presence of a coyote wouldn't go well for most small animals.

I don't have too much to say about coyotes, beyond their obvious similarity to wolves. Wolves tend to hunt sheep (which gave them a bit of a negative biblical rep), but let's be real, a sheep isn't winning many battles out in the wild.

Jett strikes me as a 'tragic killer', like our usual chapter 2/4 killers. There's wildcard energy to him, though - I could see him killing, surviving or dying, but whatever happens, there'll be a plot point surrounding his face, it seems too interesting to not be a thing.

Kai Monteago:

Butterfly, on chest, let's go.

Most obvious interpretation: social butterfly, he's an influencer.

Biblically, they're pretty irrelevant, but symbolically they're all about transformation. This could indicate character development, a change in tune, etc. Not much to say here, it could represent vulnerability (butterflies are fragile), but it's most likely a reference to the phrase social butterfly.

Mark 'Mayhem' Berskii:

His hat is, indeed, an alligator. At first I thought it was a dragon, then a crocodile, but the concept art confirms it to be an alligator.

Google couldn't tell me much about Bible alligators, which was expected. What it can tell me is the symbolism behind them, though.

Alligators are cunning and wise. Which adds up here, Mark seems way smarter than he lets on. He makes a comment at the end of a non-stop debate (something about setting the trash fire) which suggests he's a critical thinker, seeing the misguided logic in the room.

They are also apex predators with a lot of strength which... is concerning, in terms of potential murderers. Since they've been around since the prehistoric age, alligators are seen as having an ancient, primal aura about them.

I feel there's more than meets the eye with Mark - he'll carry a key discovery or two, just you wait.

Wenona:

Wenona is the girlboss we need, as well as the girlboss we deserve, no further questions. Her animal decal is a little less obvious than others', being bear pawprints at the bottom of her coat.

My favourite Bible story ever (because it's hilarious out of context) is the one about Elisha and the bears, where two bears maul forty-two children because they made fun of a guy. So, maybe don't get on her bad side via mockery.

Interestingly, bears are used to symbolise cruelty and self-servedness which... adds up here, I guess.

Symbolically, bears are a little more cuddly than the Bible makes them out to be. They're known for hibernation, making them quite patient and cautious animals. Bears are grounded animals and represent strength, being fearsome predators.

Wenona is very set in her views, and appears to be unwavering, much like a bear.

Eloise Taulner:

Eloise wears a swan pin in her hair, making that her signature animal. Swans are graceful and vicious; a fascinating combination for a character like Eloise.

In the Bible, swans are everything you'd assume a white bird to be. It's all very 'this bird is the serene love of god, do not eat it, but for different reasons'.

Symbolically, swans are loyal birds, being of the 'mates for life' variety. Something interesting to mention is the concept of a swan song - a song that laments death, said to be the most beautiful song ever sung by a swan, despite the birds being far from natural singers. In Greek mythology, swans were sacred to both Aphrodite and Apollo, with Apollo being the god of music.

Which presents the possibility of a friendship between Mark and Elodie, with him being 'music' and her being a swan.

Swans are very powerful birds, so Eloise's character arc will probably involve her becoming stronger in terms of willpower and confidence.

Ingrid Grimwall:

This one's a little harder to spot, but Ingrid's animal symbol is on her bag, in the form of a lion.

Lions are generally seen as brave, proud animals. The main Biblical story that comes to mind is the story of Daniel, who was thrown into a den of lions. A lion's roar is intended to paralyse its foes with fear, but can its bite match its bark? I suspect Ingrid will be a big talker, but less keen to take actual initiative. Male lions are known for being less active than their pride members, with the female lions doing the hunting.

Although, you could argue that a lion is a natural leader. These qualities don't need to be exclusive though - why not be a leader and a layabout?

Besides that, there's pride and family and strength, but the less prominent placement of Ingrid's emblem tells me she'll be less fearsome than her classmates.

Cassidy Amber:

Cassidy's a little bit different from the others. Her animal motif doesn't have a specific portrayal of the animal (much like Wenona's and Ulysses'), and hers is repeated as a pattern - Cassidy wears tights with a spiderweb pattern.

Now, spiders are pretty well known for trapping things. It's kind of their whole deal. This gives Cassidy some serious mastermind vibes to me, especially when coupled with the fact that she's married to the content grind, loves games, and has a lot of money to throw around.

But anyway, the Bible just kind of complains about their webs being fragile, which could be interpreted as 'her fanbase isn't a true connection to others, they'll abandon her the second someone new catches their attention'. In reality, the Bible doesn't hold up for most of these, but like... it's interesting, right?

Spiders could be described as patient killers. They weave intricate webs for their victims and wait for the opportune moment to strike. Spiders are often feared, with arachnophobia being one of the most popular phobias. Cassidy herself is capable of projecting an unsettling aura and might be described as unnerving.

Fun fact: Red spiders specifically symbolise wealth, passion and excitement, which lines up pretty well with our pro-gamer.

In Conclusion:

I spent way too long making this.

Also, the Bible was pretty useless for most of these BUT the Bible reflects a lot of general perceptions (because it set quite a few of them), so it was sometimes interesting, I think, I'm tired, send help, goodnight!

(If you've made it this far, say hi or something, this took three hours and for what?)

#project eden's garden #danganronpa #danganronpa fangame #theory #analysis

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lightlycareless · 1 day ago

Note

Naoya as our bully ?🤭

If you can, can you write something about it with dubcon and all those things

( feel free to ignore if you don’t like it ❤️)

Hello!!

Heheheh bully naoya is most likely to happen if I were to be realistic; however, I do not think it'll be as sweet as we would've liked—but that's ok, it's good to explore other things :)))

warnings: non-con; it's not explicit but it is implied so proceed with caution. minors DNI. I know you asked for dub-con but wow I just let my imagination go I am sorry I still hope you like it though 🥹 also, naoya is a prick. but that's expected. minimal proofreading, excuse the weirdness.

Happy reading!!

Naoya being your bully is, hands down, the worst thing that could’ve happened to you.

Or more likely the precursor of the most horrific thing you’d ever suffer.

Your expectations for Jujutsu High were big—and for good reason, for everyone around you made sure you’d always look to your first day at school as the biggest, most important thing to happen in your life and career. You were to obtain the first glimpse of this amazing society you were part of, how could you not be thrilled?

But perhaps what enthralled you the most was the possibility of meeting the love of your life, after all, you were a hopeless romantic at heart.

Sure, it was somewhat of a selfish, if not baseless goal when compared to your duty… but there was no harm in dreaming, right?

And as if God had willed it, you’d soon catch the attention of someone in particular not so long after your arrival.

Unfortunately, not the type you desire.

The other thing you’d quickly come to learn about as days went by were the rumors and gossip surrounding your fellow classmates; just about the usual information you’d need to survive—who’s the popular one, who to go to when struggling with schoolwork—but primarily, who to avoid.

Naoya, the heir of the Zen’in, as on top of that list, though you were already aware of such cautions since his reputation… precedes him. Thus, it didn’t make it hard for you to simply walk the other way whenever stumbling in his path.

Not that it was any difficult, since he always seemed to be entertained by other things, other girls. And since you never considered yourself comparable to them, it was safe to say that you remained under the radar.

Until the day you didn’t.

Your efforts thrown out the window when accidentally bumping into him, a seemingly innocent act that transpired in the hallways, when you were in a rush, anxious to arrive to your next class on time that you barely had taken a sip of your drink—the weapon that perpetrated your transgression, soiling his pristine uniform.

To you, the beginning of your nightmare.

To Naoya, the moment he was waiting for.

“I’m so sorry, I—I didn’t mean to do that!” you fret, hands trembling as you frantically looked for a way to clean up your mistake. “I’m so so so sorry, please, let me pay for the cleaning service, or I can—I think I can even get you another one—”

“Do you know the level of stupidity you’ve committed?!” Naoya would belittle, cornering you into feeling worse than you already were.

“I—I didn’t mean to.” You cry, shaking your head. Seems that the rumors were true regarding his personality were true after all, if not worse. “It’s just that I—I was in a rush, and you came out of no—”

“Ah, so now you’re blaming me? Is that it?”

“No—No, it was an accident! I really didn’t mean it, I swear!”

“Then you better show me how regretful you really are if you don’t want me to take this to the higher ups.” He threatens, and while a part of you doubts this incident is worth their attention…

His patience is not something you want to test, nor the limits of his wrath.

And so, your servitude begins.

First, he has you fixing the immediate cause of your despair, which seems you could never achieve thanks to Naoya’s impossible standards. You either missed a spot, didn’t use the cleaner he ordered you to (they always change) or it wasn’t as nice as it was before. The excuses go on and on, such as your debt to him, and all you could do was comply.

Of course, Naoya didn’t really care much about the uniform. In fact, he got one as soon as the other was spoiled, but what reason did he have to ignore the adorable way you fretted to fix your mistakes? Always eager to please him, it was the kind of entertainment he could not miss!

After growing bored of the endless back and forth relating to his uniform, he decides to move you onto doing his schoolwork, the boring, theory side of jujutsu nobody could care less about, to compensate in some way.

Which, once again, never fits his criteria. He just had to find something wrong, a small slip-up for him to nitpick and embarrass you.

A somewhat hard endeavor given how good you were at doing these things, Naoya that much could admit. But, well, he always preferred the teary look in your eyes when ripping apart the work you presented that day, even if it meant he’d end up doing it later himself.

“I was only—I was only doing my best—” you silently whimper, picking up the pieces of your efforts from the floor.

“Your best isn’t good enough.” Naoya coldly declares, and though your heart is sharply pierced by his crude, cold words, enough purpose to finally take a stand and leave—

You still don’t find it in yourself to stray away from him.

Because at the slightest hesitation, Naoya always found a way to pull you back in. Remind you of your mistakes and how far you really are from redeeming yourself.

Perhaps he knew of those deep, hurtful insecurities you’ve carried along since you were a child; those that made you doubt your aptitudes, if you were worthy of being a sorcerer, your family’s relative…

It would’ve been easier if you simply remained as an errand girl. The type of person to fetch him something to drink, or snack on… instead of dwelling on the old wounds of your upbringing that only worsened with his targeted frustrations—

His so called “jokes.”

Naoya’s approach didn’t take long to escalate into denigrating, personal acts against you, from cruel exchanges between his friends, pointing out your supposed flaws both physically and personality-wise, to pulling your hair whenever passing by, sneering at the stupid bow you decided to decorate your hair with—how childish it made you look—to lifting your skirt just to see what a prude girl like you could wear.

“Not that anyone is dying to know, but I thought I’d do you the favor of knowing what it feels to be desired for once in your life.”

Amongst other nasty things that just made you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

You didn’t know what hurt the most. That there was a group willing to mock you, enough to do so whenever he wasn’t around… or that Naoya didn’t have the decency to ask them to stop.

After all you’ve done for him, that was the least he could do.

Whatever business you had with him solely pertained to the two, there was no need to bring others along, less to incite him to do that…

But expecting such was too much, and so, you simply did your best to ignore him and move on with your life while anxiously waiting for whatever humiliating task you’d be graced with soon. Praying that one day, he’ll be merciful, or perhaps forgetful enough, to set you free.

…

Unless you weren’t to deliver anymore.

Unless you were to simply… disappear.

Just now show up after class to hand Naoya all his assignments, like always. Making him wait for a few more minutes before accordingly preparing himself to scold you in the nastiest way he could imagine when you finally arrived—but you never did.

At the peak of his anger, he decides to hunt you down instead and directly confront you. Figure out how your small, stupid brain convinced you to betray him, and subsequently make you regret it.

Which there were too many ways to do so, really. But as long as you suffered, as long you experienced a fraction of his shame, he was indifferent to the methods.

But of all the things he expected to find when facing you, he never once considered the sparks of your rebellion starting by an outside influence.

A fellow student you were walking annoyingly close to, revealing his efforts of isolating as futile; of filling your mind with nothing but his presence easily replaceable by a classmate of his. That stuck-up blonde-haired guy that everyone seemed obsessed about just because he was a foreigner.

And now, you too.

He should’ve known that your gullible mind would be attracted to someone like that. It was natural that you’d do so.

Perhaps what he didn’t expect was for Nanami to grow interested in you; surely, there were far better options to set his eyes on than someone as mundane and stupid like you.

Far more intriguing to find enjoyment in, as seen in the warm smile he gives you.

His perception of Nanami undoubtedly crumbled given this advancement; but if that was the only thing that bothered him, then why is there a burning, nauseating sensation settling in the pits of his stomach? Far beyond anger at your defilement, or even disappointment, but instead something akin to jealousy?

Protecting what was his, something that he never intended to share?

Naoya would entertain his feelings for a few moments, even come to consider it wasn’t worth his time to get so worked up for someone all his friends (and himself) ultimately found replaceable.

But he stops believing such things the moment his blood runs cold upon witnessing the act that fueled his definite wrath once and for all:

You, shyly leaning towards Nanami and kissing him.

What you had with him was more than a simple friendship, that much was obvious now. Far more intimate that he would’ve liked to imagine—

And far more infuriating as well.

Is this how you repay him? After all he’s done for you, acting like a whore was the best way to show your appreciation for him, after he’s given you a purpose in life? Saved you from becoming the useless, weak sorcerer you were fated to be?

…Perhaps you do need a reminder of who you belonged to.

“What are you—what are you doing in my dorm?!” You cried the moment Naoya barged into your room, the perfect location for him to corner you; keep you away from the intruding eyes of your friends, and so-called boyfriend, and finally confront you. “You can’t be here—get out!”

“Drop the act, this rebellious façade does not fit you.” He scowls; you frown. It was evident you were always nervous whenever he was around… but today, there was something different about your trembling voice. About your hesitating movements.

It was if you were pushing yourself to remain through all your fears and put an end to his tyranny or at least die trying.

That shy, people-pleasing girl was long gone—Undoubtedly, the work of someone whose mere remembrance only made his blood boil.

“I—I don’t care what you think, Naoya, you cannot be in my room!” you cry back. “Get out or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Call your boyfriend?” You blink; he lets out a mocking chuckle. “Think I wouldn’t notice? You’re awful at keeping secrets, you know?”

“I wasn’t—I wasn’t keeping a secret.” You continue. “I just—I just didn’t care anymore about you!”

“Excuse me?” he responds, offended. “Did you just—"

“Shut up! For once, just shut up!”

Naoya flinches, taken aback by your sudden outburst, as if it had come out of nowhere; and not the exhaustion of his mistreatment, his constant disrespect towards your persona and all your acts.

Had it been the you from before, you wouldn’t have even dared.

Yet, just as you confessed, you simply stopped caring about him. What he had to say or what he thought—if he were to lash out at you or dump you with more work.

And all thanks to Nanami’s company; his affection. A supporting figure that reminded you of your strength, of your value and importance. Of how you were still deserving of being cherished and respected, without having to go through these endless ordeals to prove your worth. Those worthy to keep around wouldn’t make you go through that, anyways.

But most importantly, he showed you the power you had over your own life. How you were capable of putting a stop to the tyranny that pushed you to this bottomless ocean of self-doubt, and leave all your pain behind.

“You’re the most despicable, disgusting, horrible man I ever had the disgrace of meeting in my life!” you begin, letting out all your bottled-up anger through tears and yells. A cathartic occurrence that your heart so desperately needed. “You’re—You’re a monster, I don’t know how I tolerated you for too long!

But I won’t allow it anymore, because—I—I have Kento by my side and he’s—he’s showed me all these wonderful things I’ve been completely unaware of thanks to you!

He taught me to be strong, to be—to be fearless. To appreciate what little I have and cherish my loved ones!

To—to be honest with myself, and to—and to never let anyone else hurt me ever again!!

So today—today I denounce you! Whatever agreement we had, whatever it is that I was supposed to make up to you, it’s done! I refuse to keep being your slave, the center of your mockery. All I’ve ever did was try to please you but it’s obvious I will never commit to that, and you—you never had intentions of letting me go; if it were up to you, I’d simply remain miserable all of my life as long as you remained happy!

But… but that is finally over. It’s done. I won’t allow you to ever hurt me, to ever treat me like I was beneath you!

And I really do hope you get all you deserve. All that someone as despicable as you could ever hope to get!

I—I hope I never get to see you again, I hope that after today, you’ll walk out of my life once and for all!

Because I really, with all my existance—

hate you!”

The last thing Naoya remembers from that point forward was feeling irritated by your obnoxious rambles drowning in with burning rage. An overwhelming need to make you eat your words and apologize; so grave that it blinded his sights, his memory.

There were only brief moments here and there that managed to make way to his thoughts, such as the stinging pain on his palm after striking you across the face following your words, continued by the deep betrayal you’ve inflicted in his heart as he pulled you by the hair to force you to listen and reflect on the stupidities you’ve just spewed upon him.

“Did you really think I would allow you to disrespect me without suffering the consequences?! Did you really think I’d sit by as you preached things you don’t even know what they mean?! All because a silly, stupid man managed to convince you were deserving of them???” Naoya berates, bringing your face close to his and imposing you to see him—the anger you caused, the gravity of your actions.

“Na—Naoya—!” you squirm, trying to break free from his grasp, but he only holds you tighter in place; painfully subdues you to become responsible for your life for once.

“You’re nothing but a stupid, foolish whore that got placed in a pedestal simply because someone wanted to fuck you.” He chuckles. “You think Nanami likes you? Really?? Don’t you think that if he did, he wouldn’t have pushed you to do something stupid like this?? He ought to know better, but I suppose that for a stupid girl like you, you’d do anything to obtain a man’s favor, even if it means betraying those who care for you.

Fortunately, I know exactly what to do in situations like this, how to deal with people like you.

I’ll show you that all I’ve done came from a place of compassion, of pity.

That I’m the only person that would ever dare to do so.”

It’s clear what he intends to do once he throws you onto the bed, once he begins to strip you of your garments and ignore your pleads of mercy. A possibility of reconsideration—how you didn’t mean to offend him as gravely as you did.

“But that is long gone, and now, I will make you see the error in your decisions. I will make you regret ever crossing me.”

And overall—

“I will make you see I’m the only man you need.”

Naoya’s defilement does not stop no matter how much you beg him to.

No matter how much you weep, you beg for his forgiveness, profess your regret and promise to do better… he was simply uninterested in what you had to say.

Instead, he succumbed deeper into his emotions, allowing them to control his rationale and do all kinds of horrifying, disgusting things to your body with the sole purpose of branding you with his anger, with your transgressionsso that you’d never forget.

You’d never dare to insult him the way you fervently did.

You’d never dare look onto another man, when he was there to be the object of your sole veneration.

Of your affection.

To keep you solely focused on him, and eventually, get you where you deserved to be.

It’s a shame things had to end this way, he manages to muse as he continued to desecrate you. But some people could only understand the hard way, the stubborn, stupid, naïve way. You just had the misfortune of falling into that category.

And he did just that. He drilled that notion onto you, both mentally and physically, what you should’ve known the moment you crossed paths with his.

The moment he set eyes on you, you were his, and it was always meant to be that way.

“St—Stop it, Naoya…” you gasped, tears in your eyes as you tried for the nth time that moment to fight him off. But too weak after his aggressions, all you could do is weep. “Please—please… I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

Naoya only stops once he believes your lesson to be learned. From there, he barely gives you a second glance as he composes himself and leaves your dorm; far too indifferent to oversee your wellbeing or if someone were to find you in a broken position.

He simply goes on with his day as if it were any other, occasionally reflecting on your absence once realizing you went missing for the rest of the day, but outside of that, nothing.

Because ultimately, that is what you deserve.

Nothing.

Naoya allows you to keep your distance for a few days more after… his act. Whether because he didn’t feel in the mood to see your face, still resentful of your words, or because he was busy… It didn’t matter much; for he kept on with his life as if nothing had transpired. Treating you like an occasional remembrance, the junior he’d grown somewhat close to but eventually outgrown when another came along.

Even when his friends pestered him to find out about your situation, Naoya dismissed them. He had far bigger matters to attend to, after all, silly little Y/N was just another fish in the ocean; if they were so desperate to know, why don’t they find out themselves?

However, he wouldn’t be able to continue putting on this act once his classmate, your disgraceful boyfriend, began to mope. Becoming even moodier the longer you went on without attending school, even enough to go around asking if anyone had seen you after that fateful day—no one had.

Except your friends, the only few that somehow were able to place the pieces together and know what occurred to you; or at least, make a theory out of their findings—which eventually led for the whole school to gossip about.

“Did you hear?” Someone would begin. “Y/N has dropped out of school.”

“What? Dropped out? When??”

“Not too long ago, it seems. Just a few days ago—”

“What makes you think that? She could just be sick…”

“Come on, why do you think her siblings are all moody nowadays? If anything, the question we should be asking is why? Why would someone drop out in the middle of the school year? It’s not like she a bad student…”

“Are you sure she didn’t just transfer?”

“No, she didn’t. I saw the records, she dropped out. But you’d never know why… and honestly, I didn’t think she’d have it in her.”

“Have what in her?”

“More like who.”

“What—what are you implying?”

“Oh, and she seemed so innocent too…”

“No—no way you’re…”

“Yeah, I am. Y/N’s—”

Pregnant.

In other words, a child grows inside you right now.

And Naoya knew just who the father was.

What he didn’t know is why the idea seemed to thrill him enough to seek you out. Why he didn’t just… force you to take that damned pill, as he’d done countless times before, and move on.

Instead, he decided to travel all the way down to your home and demand the presence of your family; of your distraught parents he could see were disappointed in their seemingly promiscuous daughter, yet respectful enough to receive him. Perhaps because deep within, they knew he was related to your situation.

Or because it was one of the many perks of being the heir of the Zen’in.

Like being given the liberty to do as he pleases, painting a story that greatly deviated from the truth: making them believe you and him had a relationship, but given the nature of his position, he couldn’t divulge it. His family were… traditional, in some sense. They would never allow their heir to approach women in casual settings.

But love proved far stronger, and such demonstration now came in the small life nurtured inside your womb.

The same one he sweetly promised to take care of—as long as you married him.

Everyone had a price, and it seems your parents’ was prestige and honor; things easily obtainable through his titles, but at the sake of your happiness.

“What—what is he doing here—” you stammer, frightened to see the face that troubles your thoughts, your dreams, in the last haven you got. “How did he get in here?!”

“Oh, Y/N, this is wonderful!” your mother would cry, rushing to your side to take you into her arms. “All of our prayers were heard!”

“What—what are you talking about?!”

“You no longer need to worry about your future now, pumpkin. Naoya here will take care of everything!” Your father continues.

“Wh—what?” you breathed, sight blurry and head dizzy at the sound of their delirious words.

“He told us of your situation.” Your mother adds. “About your relationship with him.”

But not the true one, is it? For their reactions didn’t correlate to the horrors you were haunted by.

“What—what did he say??”

“Our truth, Y/N.” Naoya responds. “About our love, and my commitment to provide for you.”

Naoya painted himself as your savior, as the sinner than changed for the sake of love and was now willing to do everything necessary to give you, the mother of his heir, a suitable life.

Through a divine vow.

A life sentence.

You wept. You wailed, screamed, begged your parents to set you free from the hands of your tormentor. Exclaimed that his acts were far from a lover, but rather, an abuser. A demon—all that he had done was with your suffering in mind, not the other way around!

But even if they were to decline his offer, your family were far too eager to cling at the opportunity of returning to relevancy. Of getting into the Zen’in’s good graces and bask in the prestige they once lost to time.

Your eager nature could’ve not come sooner, what they once condemned, now they welcomed as a blessing.

And such, amidst poisonous congratulations, your new life was set: permanently bound to the man that had broken your spirit, defiled your body, and now, claimed your future.

No one would come to believe the atrocities he had inflicted upon, no matter how much you tried to convince others—it was simply easier to assume that he acted such way because… well, women were difficult, were they not? And you weren’t exactly the prime example of a proper woman either. If anything, you should be glad that you’ve managed to catch a man as devoted as him; any other would’ve bailed out on you.

But Naoya didn’t; he may not have the greatest reputation, nor the best temperament, but he still stepped up—and if that’s not worthy of admiration, then shame on you. Many women would’ve killed to have a partner like that, so, it’s best if you comply and stop being ungrateful.

Do what you’re supposed to do as his future wife—this is the life women of your status were expected to do anyways, don’t act like you didn’t know what you were getting into.

“I—I at least want to finish school.” You sadly lament, the last of your excuses before your fate was doubled down.

“You won’t need that once we’re married.” Naoya interjects. “All you’d need to learn is how to be a good wife and mother for our family, you’ll hardly have time for sorcery so just forget about it.”

Just like he always imagined the moment he laid eyes on you, only that he never professed it out loud.

It’s true: since the time he was aware of your existence, there was something that mesmerized him.

He just didn’t know what precisely; it could’ve been your beauty, your untainted image, pure in all imaginable ways—he couldn’t let anyone else get to you first.

And after all that happened, he can safely assume that this was his destiny. It was God putting you on his path while Naoya did the rest.

If anything, he laments it took this unwanted pregnancy to realize him so. Naoya would’ve liked something a bit more… traditional, but he supposes this will work too. Can’t complain much if he got what he wanted in the end: to claim you.

All that he’s left to worry about is drilling that defiance out of you. Something a baby ought to do the trick.

But if not, Naoya doesn’t worry much. After all, he’ll have all the time in the world to do so.

Naoya would be the type to find porn actresses that look like you and then show you a video or something, ask you if you'd make the same sounds/faces and such. Just had to get it out there.

Also, did I not tell y'all that in all universes naoya and y/n end up together? For better or for worse? lmao i'm sorry i'm just delusional rn. it's been a stressful week if i am being honest but coming back to these asks, characters, all of you, makes me happy :')

Well, I don't really have much to say, except that I hope it was to your liking 🥹💖💖💖

Now, take care and hope to see you soon. 💖💖💖💖

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst

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fairyhaos · 22 hours ago

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❖ moonstruck // kim mingyu

mingyu x f!reader, 2.2k+ words

tags: sculptor!mingyu, muse!yn, pining, ambiguous relationship, fluff, angst, mingyu is Down Bad

notes: title + vibes taken from moonstruck by enhypen cz it fits the feel that i was going for :P forgive me bc i know nothing ab sculpting/muses but i just had to write a fic where yn is devastatingly gorgeous and this js fit so well <3 happy valentines day!

summary: mingyu is a sculptor, and you are his muse.

When Mingyu arrives at his studio that morning, he finds you already there, lounging around like you own the place.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're late again. What's it gonna take for me to make you finally come on time? A kiss, maybe? A promise of a date?" You smile at him mischievously, eyes glittering in the morning light.

You're watching him amusedly, arms tucked behind your head, resting comfortably on the sofa on the other end of the studio. This is not necessarily a surprising sight: despite the fact that you do not, actually, own the place, it’s still common for you to be there before he arrives, playing with the various clay creations lining the walls or dangling your feet over the edge of the sofa, waiting for him to clock in for the day.

Mingyu scrunches his nose, and does not respond to the latter half of what you said.

“I’m really not late,” he says, setting down his bag and hanging his coat up by the door. “You’re just early.”

You hum contemplatively, kicking your feet out and crossing your ankles over the armrest on the other end of the sofa. The cracking, coppery leather grumbles discontentedly at your movement, but you hardly notice, stretching leisurely like a cat.

“Maybe. Or maybe time is a construct, and neither of us are early or late.”

Mingyu blinks at you, tilting his head. “It’s not even 10. Let’s not talk philosophy until at least 3 in the afternoon, please.”

You laugh at that, silvery and light, watching from your place on the sofa as Mingyu begins setting up his sculpting supplies for the day.

“Whatever pleases you, my dear Mingyu,” you say, words lilting melodically with teasing. “As your muse, it’s my duty to be as pleasing to you as possible, after all.”

Mingyu just rolls his eyes, used to your teasing. “Of course,” he says dryly. “Though I’m afraid it’s debatable just how good you are at that, though.” He laughs when you huff in indignation, before pulling out his sketchbook. “You saw the sketches I sent you last night, right? Is there anything you want to comment on, or should we start right away?”

───────────── 🏛

You are Mingyu’s muse.

It sounds horribly cheesy, and definitely makes you sound like the romantic interest in some sort of historical-royal-heart wrenching-romance-novel, but he literally means you’re his artistic muse.

This wasn’t always the case. You weren’t always solely his—a few years back, you’d simply been one of the hired models for a class he’d taken back at university. But he’d been utterly mesmerised by you, and so in awe of your beauty that it must have shown on his face, because you’d always catch his eye as he worked, an elusive little smile in your eyes, like you knew exactly how he felt.

And then one thing led to another, and suddenly he was meeting you outside of classes, and then he was seeing you even when that particular project had finished, and then he was still sculpting you after he’d graduated, and then, and then, and then…

And then here he is, now.

It’s still something he can’t wrap his head around, even so many years later. How these one-on-one sessions started. How you became his official muse.

“This better turn out amazing, because my arm’s cramping up really badly right now,” you say, voice strained from having your head tilted back for so long, and Mingyu laughs.

“You’re the one who suggested this position,” he says, pencil lightly tracing your form onto paper. “I don’t think you get the right to complain.”

“I have plenty of right to complain,” you argue, opening one eye to glare at him. Mingyu just grins toothily back. “Ugh, whatever. Just hurry up, okay?”

“Hey, you can’t rush art,” Mingyu teases, but he finds his fingers complying anyway, taking longer, sweeping arcs of graphite against the page. He’s almost finished, anyway, with this pose being a lot easier than some others that he’s put you in before. Yet in some ways, it’s going to be even harder for him to complete.

He has you wrapped in swathes of silk, sat on the floor with your legs out in front of you, the cream fabric slipping off your shoulder slightly. You’re leaning back on one arm, the side of your head resting on your shoulder, face tilted upwards as if soaking in the sunlight, eyes shut and eyelashes fluttering gently against your cheeks.

The long, horizontal line of your body makes this a relatively easier art piece than ones he’s attempted before, and while the folds of silk are going to be tricky, that’s not what he’s worried about.

You look so… delicate.

“Okay, let’s take a break,” Mingyu says, when he sees your arm beginning to shake. It’s not a hard pose, but he knows that keeping one position for too long puts strain on the best of people.

You groan with relief, relaxing your arm and flopping to the floor. “Thank God. Any longer and I would’ve definitely collapsed. Turned into a heap on this floor.”

Mingyu hums, adding further details to his sketch. “I think you already did. Don’t worry, sweetheart, you look pretty even as a heap on the floor.”

He can almost hear your eye roll, and he laughs, looking up from the paper to take in your disgruntled expression, only for the laughter to catch in his throat.

There’s no sign of annoyance on your face, and now he’s looking at you, he doubts you rolled your eyes either. Instead, your expression is strangely unreadable, eyes half-lidded, strands of hair falling across your face like curls of ribbons, lips softly pursed. Lying on the floor like that, hair and silk pooling around you as you blink slowly at him, you look like some sort of nature deity, watching him and observing countless things that Mingyu can hardly even begin to understand.

You’re gorgeous.

Mingyu knows this��it’s why you’re his muse—but the realisation always makes his heart stick in his throat when he remembers.

You’re still looking at Mingyu, gaze as dark as molasses, smoky and sweet and pulling him in, making his hands shake and his pulse sound loudly in his ears.

And then you smile, cheeky and playful once more.

“Oh, thank you so much, I’m glad you think so, honeybun,” you say, full of mock-relief, and Mingyu has to blink to remember what you’re thanking him for. “I knew I could always count on you to find me beautiful.”

You dramatically fling your arm over your eyes as you say this, the perfect image of a romantic, distressed maiden having their feelings reassured by the hero, before peeking out from under the back of your hand to flutter your lashes and smile at him.

And Mingyu knows this is an act, that this is just you teasing, but it’s a lot more difficult to tell that to his heart.

“What’s for lunch, by the way?” you ask, taking your arm away from your face. “I’m hungry.”

Mingyu swallows thickly, avoiding your gaze, not wanting you to see every thought written across his face. “It isn’t even lunch time yet. Why are you already hungry?”

“Hey, don’t deny me my right to eat,” you complain, subconsciously smoothing down the silk that’s wrapped around your body. Mingyu sighs internally, already anticipating the hassle he’s going to have to go through to get the folds to sit how they were before. “Modelling for you is hard work, you know.”

Mingyu just hums dryly. “Whatever you say. Unfortunately, break time’s up now, so you’re gonna have to eat later.”

You whine in annoyance, but make no move to resist when Mingyu stands up, walks over and begins rearranging the silk around you again. “Fine. For the sake of art, I guess I’ll go hungry. I’ll be the true tortured artist, or something.”

“Quit the dramatics. We’ll eat when it’s actually lunch time.”

“How about in ten minutes’ time?”

“No.”

“Twenty?”

“No.”

“Fine. You drive a hard bargain, Kim Mingyu.”

───────────── 🏛

So what exactly is it about you that made you his muse?

It’s a question that Mingyu gets asked a lot. By his parents, by his customers, by his friends: none of whom can ever truly understand what a muse is when it comes to art.

You’re not just a really pretty person. To Mingyu, you are—everything. You are beauty, passion, vivacity, intricacy, warmth, cold, colour, light, dark, fear, danger, happiness, love. Looking at you makes his heart twist in his chest, makes his head feel faint and dizzy, makes his eyes burn like he’s been staring right at the sun.

He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know how. But being with you, looking at you, makes him feel so heart-wrenchingly alive, skin buzzing with the need to carve your visage onto paper, into clay, into stone, to keep you with him forevermore.

It shouldn’t be possible for one simple human to make him feel like this. And yet…

Mingyu has to pause from where he’s bent over your face, the proximity and his thoughts making his hands begin to shake. It’s not actually your face that’s in front of him right now—rather, it’s your face that he’s currently chiselling out of marble—but even just thinking of you and being inches away from something that he’s making to look just like you causes him to act like this.

But there’s just something so terrifyingly intimate about his craft, about bringing your features out from cold stone, breathing life into the lifeless.

“Why do you do what you do?” you’d asked him once, back when he was still at uni, back before you were his official muse, and he was struggling through charcoal sketches for an assignment he’d been putting off for days. That was, until you’d offered to model for him, and suddenly, the ideas flowed smoothly onto the page.

(You’ve always been his muse, since day one.)

He’d looked up from his smudged fingers, watching you sit in front of him, backlit by the soft sunlight streaming in from the window. It made you look like you were glowing, gentle light emanating from your skin in a delicately beautiful way. Not as blinding as the sun, but something softer.

Moon-like.

You take his breath away, and Mingyu had ended up stuttering out some ridiculous answer that he can’t even remember anymore, but thankfully, you seemed to accept it, going back to posing in the pensive position you’d been in before.

If he were to answer the question now, without you here to steal all his words, the answer would be rather simple.

Because he loves it.

Carefully, Mingyu brushes a dusty finger over the jagged profile he’s carved into the marble. The edges are too sharp, the slope of your cheek too unrefined, but Mingyu’s heart only swells in anticipation and adoration for what he knows the finished product will resemble.

It’s electrifying, seeing what he can bring to life. Like a mad scientist, an obsessed genius, he wonders how far he can go. What things he can make with his bare hands.

Whether he can truly make something that is so very you.

You’d been here earlier to model some more, but you’re gone now, busy meeting up with friends. You don’t normally come in to pose once he has a project fully underway, but he always asks you to come when he starts doing the face properly. Just in case he gets anything wrong.

(It’s all an excuse to spend more time with you, however. He knows your face so well from how often it’s appeared in his dreams, and from how it's carved in his brain.)

“Please try to make it a little bit like me, this time,” you’d teased, eyes shining like twin stars.

Mingyu had simply laughed, waving you off. “Come on, my sculptures always look plenty like you.”

“Nonsense. None of them ever come close to the absolute perfection that I am.”

It had been a joke, but Mingyu had found himself looking up as you gave him a wave and then walked out without a second glance. He’d watched you go, watching the trail of moonlight you left behind in your wake, soft-scented and silver-lined.

There’s some truth to your words, however. Nothing he’s made has ever come close to perfectly replicating the warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your smile, the light that you exude just by simply being.

You’re so magnetic, a bewitching push-and-pull he can't back out of, endlessly drawing Mingyu in towards you like he’s hopelessly locked in your orbit and cannot even think of breaking away.

That kind of thing is near-impossible to replicate. But, if it’s for you…

“This time, I’ll get it,” he promises to the empty studio. His words ring about the room like a bell, reverent and full of conviction.

Mingyu looks down at your half-finished face, still rough around the edges, but the curve of your lips looking oh-so smooth. With a shaking hand, he traces over the shape of your mouth, imagining how soft your real lips would be, how the tip of his thumb would press into the plushness of it.

Would you let him press his lips to yours in this way? Would you accept such an act of devotion?

Or would you slip away from his grasp, elusive as moonlight, ghosting over his senses before disappearing without a trace?

He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know.

Swallowing down his heart, Mingyu takes his hand away from your face, avoids your eyes, and carries on with his work.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery

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100vern · 2 days ago

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how to cancel your faustian bargain | wjh ✦ TEASER

FAUSTIAN BARGAIN 🔥 a pact whereby a person trades something of supreme moral or spiritual importance, such as personal values or the soul, for some worldly or material benefit, such as knowledge, power, or riches. faustian bargains are by their nature tragic or self-defeating for the person who makes them, because what is surrendered is ultimately far more valuable than what is obtained.

▏pairing: attorney!junhui x devil!reader ▏genre: enemies to lovers, lawyer au; crack, fluff, smut ▏summary: as the devil, you’re more than happy to grant favors in exchange for someone’s soul, and you’re known for having the most iron-clad contracts around. which is why wen junhui—the scene’s newest contract attorney hell-bent on returning all those souls you’ve acquired—is really starting to piss you off. ▏teaser rating: mature. however, the full fic will be explicit, and i ask that no minors interact with this or any of my work. ▏teaser warnings: member pov, reader is thee devil so needless to say there is a bunch of religious themes and topics here (as a person whose roman-catholic grandfather temporarily disowned her for stopping ccd classes i am qualified to write this dw), jihan as literal devil's advocates, swearing, mentions of a handjob. ▏teaser wordcount: 1.3k ▏release date: 25th february (tentative) ▏note: this will be apart of the don't hate, litigate! collab, hosted by my beloved @haologram. thank you so much for all your hard work and letting me participate! i have had so much fun writing this and am finally feeling like myself again. current wordcount is sitting at 7k, but i'm anticipating the full fic to double that, if not go over by a bit.

The thing is, Wen Junhui is not really supposed to be here.

Not, like, literally here—sitting across from you, the literal devil, at your desk, ass burning a little because it’s really hot here and he is, admittedly, not used to the heat—but metaphorically. Big picture-ly. This is not how I envisioned my life turning out…ly.

The thing is, Wen Junhui barely made it through law school. Barely passed his licensing exam. Watched his classmates score prestigious internships and receive exclusive offers and network and schmooze and, he thought at the time, all but sell their soul to graduate with jaw-dropping salaries awaiting them and no debt.

And it fucking sucked watching that, because he was about to become a lawyer, sure, but he’d gotten scarlet fever as a kid, swore he was going to die, swore he saw not only the light but Jesus himself (his mother called this a delusion, still insists to this day the prodigal son did not travel all the way to Shenzhen to visit him), and decided if he survived he was going to dedicate his life to the church and become a priest.

(He only decided on law school after he got a little carried away with his high school girlfriend, received an honestly mid handjob that had him crying for three straight days and contemplating confession before he decided to take it to his grave, and he’d announced the next night at dinner, weighed down by an impressive amount of guilt and religious trauma, that he was just going to go to university and major in business or finance instead.)

Anyway. Turns out that whole selling their soul thing wasn’t a joke, and where others would’ve seen a loophole, Wen Junhui had seen an opportunity.

Because he didn’t have the grades. Didn’t have the family name or even the drive, because in another life he’s at least a deacon, so he had to do something. Had to think outside the box, get a little creative, carve out a niche for himself that none of his classmates would also be trying to occupy because he had student loans.

“How did you even get in here?�� you ask, doing one of those really cool pen flips Jun has never figured out how to do. “A human hasn’t just strolled into my office in at least a millennia.”

Jun swallows, tries not to let show how nervous he is. “I, uh—I’m not sure? I sort of just… walked in, I guess.”

You blink. Study him for a while, eyes narrowed, before you make a small ah! sound and snap your fingers. What the heck? Jun can’t do that, either. “I know who you are now.”

“You do?”

“Mmhm, sure do. You were pretty famous around here for about thirteen seconds when you got that handjob and changed the trajectory of your own life forever. Some of the lower demons had bet money on you eventually becoming the Pope, so you can imagine their heartbreak—and the amount of coin they lost.” You click your tongue, return your attention to the scroll in front of you. “I kept telling them not to bet on that kind of stuff. Teenagers are wildly unpredictable, especially hormonal teenage boys. One of my finest creations, if I do say so myself.”

Not that he had any expectation of privacy here, but to say he’s mortified would be an understatement.

“Oh. That’s… really embarrassing.”

You nod, distracted as you press a large red button on your desk. “Yeah, I imagine for you it would be.”

Two men immediately materialize on each side of you. One is all cheekbones and sharp, calculating edges. Looks like the personification of mischief or perhaps temptation. After that handjob and the subsequent mourning period, Jun had come to really, really appreciate women, but he’s secure enough in his sexuality to acknowledge that the man in front of him—with his long, dark hair and lithe figure; his nonchalant, blasé attitude—is very attractive.

And the other one is no slouch, either. Has what Jun presumes is meant to be a friendlier disposition, a foil of the other man, good-cop-bad-cop, and they must be quite successful, he figures. Can’t imagine a world in which there’s anything that’d be denied to either of them.

Still, they’re well-acquainted with you, because they barely blink as you say, “Please say hello to our intruder,” with a frightening amount of bite.

The dark-haired one offers up a sleazy grin as he leans back against the wall. “Hello, intruder. Do you have a name?”

It’s a predictable question, and yet Jun still startles. Goes slack-jawed as he fixes his posture, sits straighter in his seat. Has the first syllable of his name sitting on the tip of his tongue when the other man sighs and gestures for Jun to stay quiet. “Don’t tell him your name. Better yet, don’t tell him anything, just pretend he doesn’t exist.”

“That’s rich coming from a person who chose to call themselves Joshua.”

Joshua pouts. “I thought there was something to be said for the irony.” A snort tumbles out of him, and Jun realizes that he is not the foil of the other man: he is, in fact, just as impish and rogue. “God is deliverance.” The dark-haired one does not react. “Aw, c’mon, it’s funny!”

“If you have to convince someone it’s funny, it probably is not so.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “Alright, Jeonghan. As if you didn’t do the same thing.”

“At least when I strive to be ironic, it actually is humorous—”

With an exasperated sigh, you return your attention to Jun, who has suddenly found a fascinating piece of lint on his trousers. Pointedly does not make eye contact with you, because you had been intimidating and hellacious on your own, but he’s extremely out of his element sitting across from the literal devil and two demons.

“So, Wen Junhui,” you say, tossing a pair of reading glasses onto your desk, “why are you here?”

(“Wen Junhui?” Joshua whispers to Jeonghan. “As in the Wen Junhui that got the handjob?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Jeonghan whispers back.)

And now it all feels a bit silly, because Jun had walked straight into hell thinking he’d be able to… what, exactly? Strike up a friendly conversation? Start making demands? Cut a deal that didn’t include handing over his mortal soul?

Maybe the whole becoming a priest thing hadn’t worked out but he’d still learned a thing or two, and he remembers all the words used to describe you, your original purpose. Meant to reflect God’s glory, anointed, given the highest seat at the table. They’d blamed your downfall on pride, on vanity and violence, and Wen Junhui from Shenzhen, China, who once had scarlet fever and got a bad handjob, was a fool to come here and think he could go toe-to-toe with you.

Overcome with nerves, all he can do is laugh as he toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. Considers saying something like you’re gonna think this is so silly before he decides against it. You’ve been accused of having a sense of humor, but Jun can’t imagine his harebrained scheme would make the cut.

Still—he wouldn’t be where he is if the bad ideas sitting on his shoulder had kept quiet, and they’re still whispering to him now, reminding him how he wound up here to begin with: less fortunate than his classmates, less connected, looked over for all those internships and opportunities because he wasn’t born with the proper credentials. Those god-forsaken student loans. Desperation forced him to do this, and it’d be a real shame if he got this far only to give up at the last second, wouldn’t it?

So, he does what he did best all those years of law school: he fakes it.

“Let’s say I’m interested in… a partnership, of sorts.”

Jeonghan and Joshua share a look.

“Ah,” you reply, hands folded in front of you. “And what kind of partnership would that be?”

#jun x reader #jun smut #seventeen smut #junhui smut #seventeen x reader #junhui x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #jun imagines #junhui imagines

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