#god I know this au is so weird and out of left field but i just

[morphids]

false pretenses, hange zoë

so im absolutely obsessed with this thank you for putting this idea in my head😰😵‍💫wish i could tag u anon </3

original request here [X]

pairing: college au - engineering student!hange x student!female reader - they/them pronouns for hange, afab anatomy for both

summary: the best way to get what you want is to do it yourself right?

warnings: listen this is real slutty ok, explicit sexual content 18+ minors dni - loser lesbian!hange (hange has that autistic nerd rizz), its always the quiet ones, r thinks she’s slick af, poc friendly- no physical descriptions of reader, kinda-bratty/switch!reader (r gets v subby) top-leaning!Hange (im a top i swear), strap, dirty talk, nicknames, munch activities, fingering, finger sucking, cunnilingus, praise, brief asphyxiation, i cant think of anymore

wc: 4.9k (not proofread)

an: excuse the shitty engineering attempts im not a stem girl!! hope y’all enjoy <3

—

You watched Hange from across the library, gazing over their features as they frowned. Brow creased as they solved equations that your professor had so kindly left everyone to complete after your seminar. Sometimes you’d catch their teeth nip at their bottom lip, in pensive thought.

Hange wasn't around many people, not that you saw anyway, usually kept to themselves or with the same two friends you'd seen them with. Their head often deep into a book or back hunching over a desk working some form of assignment, headphones placed over their hair.

Looking over their face, you studied Hange's strong jaw, the way their slender hand held up the weight of their head as the other scribbled down notes into their notebook. The sluttiest black tank top layered underneath an unbuttoned white dress shirt, draping over baggy brown straight-leg pants. Hair up with so many layers resting against their cheeks, framing their lovely face as multiple strands plumed out from within the hair tie. Their amber eyes lay under small, thin, glasses atop their nose. God, that nose. Perfect to sit on. Perfect to ride to holy heaven.

If it wasn’t clear, you'd had a bit of an eye on Hange for the last semester, they had transferred from a different university a while back. Upon seeing them for the first time, you wanted to speak to them. Their slightly introverted nature had made you keep your distance, though, but it was getting harder to fight the urge to go talk to them. I mean, how weird would that be? Hi, I know you don't know me but I've been obsessed with you since you transferred here? Yeah right.

No, you had to be more creative than that.

You needed a valid reason to speak to Hange so that you didn’t come across as the world’s biggest creep. Luckily for you, Hange was by far the smartest person on campus. Grades always incredibly well above average, scoring top marks in every assignment they’d submitted. So much so, that the professor had pretty much already taken them in under his wing. Due to their helpful nature and extensive knowledge in a fair range of fields, your professor was preparing Hange to be his TA after graduation. Oftentimes, passing Hange over to tutor students in his classes that lacked the grades that were expected of them at this stage in the course.

And even more luckily for you, you seemed to be really struggling with the new module. Or at least that’s what your alibi was. Who needed to know that your grades had actually been consistent passes? You were pretty strong at your theory, but you had only slightly slacked off in your classes during your professors teachings of mathematical methods and linear equations. It couldn’t hurt to get a bit of extra assistance to fill in the missing gaps.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you walked up to Hange, they barely noticed a presence beside, music blaring through the headphones, until your shoes came into their peripheral vision, spotting the black boots right beside the chair.

Their gaze followed up your bare legs, eyes slightly widened as they realised you were indeed about to induce a conversation with them and not just wandering past to get to an actual destination. They removed one cup of their headphones off their ear, holding it up with their fingers so they could listen to you. You noticed the multiple bands resting above their knuckles, bulky metallic rings varied with different patterns and weldings.

“Oh, um— hi?” Hange spoke, slightly confused, they had been deeply distracted into their equations, not anticipating someone coming to speak to them. Definitely not you, of all people.

“Hey, um— sorry to ruin your flow, but I was wondering if you could,” hesitance struck you, feeling your carefully planned script fall apart under Hange’s gaze, eyes still wide and nodding their head as a prompt for you to finish, removing the headphones fully to rest the band on the back of their neck. Why are they so hot, you thought, fumbling over yourself. “If you could tutor me with this module, you’re the smartest person in this place according to Mr. Fritz,” You joked, softening your words with a meek giggle. An attempt to make not make it seem like a big deal even though you could feel your heartbeat thump in your ears and throat.

“You can totally say no, of course,” you quickly added, after realising you didn’t actually offer them an out, not wanting to pressure Hange into having more on their plate than there already was.

Hange’s eyebrows pulled together, lips split as a wash of suspicious perplexity strained their features, only for a second before returning to normal. Back to their friendly warmth with an amiable smile stretched on their lips.

“Sure, I’d love to help,” Their eyes held yours, you to let out a faint breath of relief. “I’ve got a few things to do on campus for a while, but, I can meet you after?”

“That’d be great, thank you!” You offered to exchange phone numbers for ‘easier communication’ to plan around Hange’s schedule, before duly proposing that they come over to your dorm, as the library closed after five o’clock, and your roommates were gone for a week-long field trip.

“I’ll let you know when I’m on the way, then,” They smiled, an amused smirk etching itself on their lips before they could help it.

“That’s perfect, I appreciate it,” You beamed, “I’ll, um, leave you to your equations,” You stepped away, turning around to make your exit from the library. Hange didn’t miss the way your eyes fell onto their lips for just, perhaps, a little bit too long than was deemed socially conventional, or the way you seemed to grow flustered as they stimmed with their fingers. Hange’s gaze followed you as you walked on, trailing down to your exposed legs underneath a short skirt that hung over thick, sinuous thighs. Hange looked back down at their notebook, as they chuckled, shaking their head with endearment at your crafty deceit.

Hange certainly isn’t stupid, due to their proximity working with the professor, they were painfully aware of the more… problematic students in Mr. Fritz’ class. You were never one of them. In fact, he had even used some of your past assignments as example guidelines for the newer students. Needing help with the easiest part of the module? No way were they believing that.

—

A knock at your door, and you smoothened the fabric of your clothes, hoping to reduce any lingering creases or maybe even just to calm your nerves. You had tidied up, making your bedroom look more presentable and less like a cove of disordered chaos.

Opening the door, there stood Hange, handsome and ravishing in all their tall glory. A hand reached up to stabilise the one strap of their backpack that hung on their shoulder, the other strap dangling behind. You tried to stop, you really did, but you trailed over their figure, lured into their nonchalant stance that just exuded casual confidence as they looked back at you, an eyebrow cocked up.

Breaking contact, you welcomed them in, Hange dropped their backpack onto the floor to relieve the weight of all the heavy textbooks from their shoulders. Hand raising back up to remove the headphones from their neck, placing them atop their bag, hooked on the top handle.

You sat at your couch, leaving enough space for Hange to comfortably place themselves on. Trying to be discreet, you watched as they took off their dress shirt, hanging it on the arm of the couch, you presumed Hange was using the layer against the slightly cooler breeze outside— you couldn’t lie, you were kinda glad to see it off. Hange’s bicep was well sculpted against their black tank top as it melted into toned forearms. Tanned and strong. There was a brown cord bracelet dangling from their wrist as they rested it on their propped up knee. God, I’m no better than a man, you thought.

“So, what’d you need help with?” Hange pushed up their glasses with their ringed index finger, you wondered if that was something they often did subconsciously before beginning a task.

“Linear algebra and probability theory,”

“Hmm,” Hange nodded, a short tug at the corner of their lips, leaning their elbows on the top of their thighs, “Yeah, that stuff is pretty hard, but,”

“What did you score on the last exam?” Hange turned their head your way, amber eyes meeting yours, with a devious look.

You froze, shit. It felt like a trick question, surely Hange didn’t know the score you totalled? Surely, Hange didn’t know that you were just seven marks from a full score? It almost felt as if they were luring you into a trap; to see if you’d double down with the lie and continue with this facade or if you’d crack and admit defeat. Lose-lose either way, you’d end up embarrassed or having to make yourself look incredibly foolish.

Voice breaking in your throat, you held eye contact. Whereas Hange’s was steady and sharp, yours felt like you were just exposing yourself further the longer you remained silent.

“I-I don’t remember,” A neutral answer, you decided, totally not because you had been rendered nonverbal, clearing your throat and seeing the way Hange’s lips stretched fully into a knowing smirk.

“Hmm, you don’t remember,” They were definitely mocking you now, voice low, humming and melodic as you felt the thunder in your chest beat. You looked down at your thighs, fingers fiddling with a loose hem on your skirt.

“Getting the impression I wasn’t invited over for some homework,” They chuckled, leaning back against the support of the couch, arm stretching over the top.

One sentence and it was out in the open, the illusion you thought was so deceiving completely shattered as your true intentions came to light. Yup, embarrassing, just as you thought.

“So, why don’t you tell me the actual reason you invited me over,” If the last sentence was a stab to your confidence, this one was an extra twist in the wound. Hange was smirking at you, the mirthful look in their eyes showing you that they were relishing in your embarrassment and flustered face.

You swallowed a deep breath, feeling your skin ignite both with anticipation and nerves so lethal you almost wanted to bury yourself underneath the seat, never to be seen again.

“I, uh—“ you mumbled, the script had truly crumbled, you had no plan B apart from just spewing out the truth. You’d die before you had to do that.

“You seem a bit flustered,” Hange hummed, leaning on the back of the couch, as their thighs came to spread, “Why’s that, hm?”

The unlevelled confidence that radiated from them just seemed to further your own unease. It wasn’t often you felt that way, usually being the one to initiate flirtations with others. Yet, everything about Hange just seemed to drag you into a state of bashfulness, totally out of character as you failed to make eye contact.

“Will you look at me, love?”

You ceded, eyes meeting, as you let out a sigh. Hange placed a testing hand upon your bare knee, tentative runs of their thumb over the skin. Soft, Hange thought. The feeling eliciting shivers down your spine, warm waves down to your core, reducing you to a state of feeling unreasonably touch-starved. Hange gazed down your thighs, deliciously covered by the fabric of your skirt, moistening the edge of their upper lip with the tip of their tongue, before flickering their eyes back to you.

“What is it you really want?”

Fuck. A short gasp escaped your throat as their hand trailed up, fingers reaching underneath the hem of the short skirt. Hange was toying with you, no doubt about it.

“I… I wanted to speak to you,”

Humming, their hand moved further, “Why?”

“I found you…” you paused when their fingertips skimmed over your panties, your thighs twitched. “C-captivating, needed a reason to speak to you,”

Hange chuckled, as they leaned forward to reach the bottom of your ear, your breath hitching as their lips ghosted over the skin.

“You could’ve just asked, pretty,” Hange’s voice whispered against your ear, as you closed your eyes. You were so down bad.

“Think I haven’t noticed you, huh?” One light kiss at your skin, “Think I haven’t seen the way you stare at me?” Another kiss, ever so gentle that you almost melted into them, biting back a needy groan. Hange’s hand squeezed at your thigh, fingers towards your centre, just barely grazing over the fabric.

“I mean—god, darling, if you wanted me to fuck you that badly all you needed to do was ask nicely,” Hange’s teeth nipped at your lobe, drawing out the skin with it.

“So, ask me nicely,”

Another squeeze at your inner thigh, and no longer could you withhold the groan that you’d been holding back. You were fighting so many demons right now, hesitant to verbalise your inner desires. Hange remained near your ear, licking at the soft skin. Fuck it.

“I want you so fucking bad,” Your voice came out so much whinier than you expected, used to hearing that tone from others, but never from yourself.

“Aren’t you gonna say please?” They chuckled, dragging it out, teasing. Hange eyed the pout at your lips, the slight frown in your brows—could tell you were used to getting what you wanted easily, to not submitting. They planned to fix that.

“Fucks sake—please, Hange,” You pressed your thighs together, trapping Hange’s hand as they gripped you, as a prompt for them to do something, anything.

“Better.”

With their other hand, the one not currently trapped in between your legs, Hange grabbed at your hip. Kneading over your hip bone, where the dainty zip of your skirt dangled. The sensation caused your thighs to loosen autonomously, as Hange opportunely released their hand an inch. Slipping underneath the hem of your damp panties, fingers teasing at your slit, collecting your slick.

“You this messy just for me?” Their sinful, warm words made you shiver, goosebumps down your arms as they hit your ear. You wriggled, skirt rolled up to your hips, exposing your panties. Messy, indeed. You were growing impatient as you attempted to roll your hips into their hand, craving contact. Hange’s fingers recoiled, pushing from your slit pulling the fabric with as they tutted. Tightening their other hand on your hip once more, stilling your movements.

“C’mon, surely you’ve figured out how this works by now,” Hange’s words sounded so sweet, if it wasn’t for the absolute torture lurking underneath. Eager to tease and play with you for as long as it would take for you to actually listen and cede. With a brattish groan and a sigh, you nodded.

“Words, darling, use them.”

“Y-yes, shit—all for you, Hange.” Voice breathy, avidly impatient. Your core leaked more slick when it clenched, totally ruining your panties as it clung to your folds. The sight absolutely delectable. “I need you so bad—can’t take it,”

There it was. Finally.

“Was that so hard?” Hange hummed, a satisfied smirk creeping over their lips as they teased a finger down your slit, only slightly breaking through your entrance. Pressing your lips against theirs as you whimpered into the kiss, biting at Hange’s plump bottom lip.

“Now then, be a good girl and stay put.”

Hange pressed their finger fully into you, soon adding another two once they saw how keenly you were taking them already, walls wet and ready. Your head fell into Hange’s neck, meek moans spilling from your mouth as their slender fingers hit the back of your squishy walls.

Without removing themselves from your warm heat, Hange cased a hand at your ass, pulling you on top of their lap. Using their clothed thigh to rut their fingers up even further, other hand forcing your hips into gyration against them. The friction from their jeans hit against your sensitive clit and with their fingers inside you, you were a hot mess already. Needy and desperate from their heartless teasing.

“Ah—that’s…fucking good,” You hissed, as Hange lapped their tongue down your neck, before sucking, branding you with many dark marks leading down to your chest.

Catching the hem of your shirt, you threw your arms up to discard it, revealing your breasts to the room’s cool air, heaving up and down with heavy breaths. Hange almost moaned at the sight of you, shirtless with a short skirt pooled around your hips, draping over their knees. Of course you weren’t wearing a bra, they thought. As Hange thrust their fingers into you, their mouth wrapped over your nipples, flicking over them with their tongue. Nipping lightly over the peaks. You arched your back into them, feeling yourself grow closer, the tension in your abdomen building as you bit your lip.

Your hips lost their rhythm, aimlessly chasing the feeling of Hange’s fingers deep within you. Languid gasps and breathless moans escaping your lips. So, so close to your peak until the sensation was suddenly stripped away, leaving you totally empty. Hange removing their fingers, you could hear your own slick cry as they did, your walls tensing.

“Wha-“ You were a bit dazed, a truthfully a little annoyed, you had been so close.

“You’ve not earned it yet,” Hange laughed, clearly relishing in your frustration. They liked this, liked making you destitute, left wanting. Hange had every intention of fixing that sugared insolence they could see within you. Had every intention of tearing it inside out.

Hange reached down to their leather belt, maintaining eye contact as they unclasped the metal peg, lifting you up off their knees slightly to pull their jeans down, before removing their tank top. Their chest rose up and down, bound beneath a black binder. You could see their own centre soaking through their underwear. You ogled their figure, groaning as your sinful thoughts worsened. The kind of imagination that would surely commit you to purgatory indefinitely.

Hange pecked your charming pout away, before bringing their soaked fingers up in front of your mouth. Spreading your lips open with their thumb, shoving it inside so you could taste your own slick on it. Their other fingers followed suit.

“Clean up your mess,”

Hange watched you, your lips bruised and plump as they split to allow entrance for their index and middle finger. Sucking your juices off them as you moaned, gagging as they hit the back of your throat. Brows pinched and eyes brimmed with tears from the hot burn. Hange’s thumb pressed against your bottom teeth, pulling your jaw open, a line of drool slipping out from the corner of your open mouth. Hange would kill just about anyone for you, they thought. Irreversibly addicted to you, your needy eyes and the way you fell to follow their orders.

“So beautiful,”

Hange hung over you. Looking into your glassy eyes, with the hold against your jaw, pinky finger at your chin, they held your mouth open, spitting on your tongue.

“Swallow.”

You did. Quite happily as you groaned, muffled as your mouth was stuffed. Feeling yourself grind against Hange’s bare thigh, your core clenching around nothing as you yearned for the feeling of their fingers back inside you. Your inner thighs completely soaked, spreading it all over Hange’s bare legs.

“Such a good girl—so obedient for me,” They hummed, relieving their attack on your mouth, taking their fingers out and grasping the back of your neck, “Wonder if anyone else has ever slut you out like this, hm?”

You shut your eyes, leaning into their touch as you whined out a passive ‘No’, shaking your head to Hange’s question, not fully trusting the strength of your own voice. Fuck, you were totally gone, lost in salacity and paralysed by your own thirst. Almost brain-dead as your desire thumped in your ears, and throbbed at your core. About to explode from your own ardour as it’d eagerly been building up. Hange was divinely addictive, a substance you should never have risked trying. You could never possibly go back now, too ruined to ever possibly go to anyone else. Totally and utterly hooked on Hange.

“Aw, look how docile you are now, pretty.”

Hange kissed at your neck, coming back up to meet your lips again as you mewled against them.

“H-Hange— please, need more,” You squirmed against their lap, “Can’t take it, need to cum so badly,” You were finally begging, hesitation leaving you to fend for yourself as Hange had you right where they wanted.

“Yeah? How do you want it, baby?”

In between strained breaths, you pointed to your drawers. Strategically placed next to the couch, as Hange reached over. Chuckling once they saw your strap in its resting place.

“This what you want?”

Nodding, you rutted against Hange’s thigh, forcing some friction to rub against your clit.

“Please, fuck,” You sobbed, visions of Hange stuffing you with your strap forcing you to squeeze your thighs against Hange’s lap.

“Since you asked so nicely,”

Hange gently nudged you off their lap, to allow them to slide the harness over their thighs. You sat beside them, legs folded underneath yourself. Hand placed delicately on the side of their head, pressing sweet kisses down the skin of their neck as they adjusted the harness to fit around the circumference of their thighs. Hange shivered under your lips, eyes shutting as they indulged in the sensation for a moment, cursing as you began to lick under their lobe. You were delightful.

Hange’s hand danced along your thigh, fingers streaming past your slit as they groaned at how unbelievably wet you were.

“You’re fucking sublime,” They groaned, dragging you over their lap, hands ripping both the skirt and your ruined panties off your legs. Hange laid their back on the couch, folding your bare thighs over their jaw. You bit your lip in keen anticipation, it was almost as if you had manifested this.

“Fuck—Hange, I’ve dreamt about this for so fucking long,” Your legs twitched above Hange’s face, as a radiant smirk shone on their lips.

“Yeah? Thought about this?” Their hands clung around the plush skin of your ass, fingers squeezing tightly. They pulled you on to a steady stream along their face, teased a lick up your folds before your slit was pressed down against their flat tongue, lapping up your slick as their nose rubbed over your clit.

“F-fuck, so much—was just like this,” You gasped as you rode Hange’s face, watching dumbly as their face contorted with gluttonous solace. Eyebrows creasing as they focused on eating you out. You crumbled, finally feeling some release after being teased for what felt like many unbearable hours. Truly, it was better than you could have imagined, Hange’s fly-aways catching on their cheeks and the sides of their face as they grew dampened, your slick slapping their cheeks and fogging up their glasses from splatters and wet heat.

Resting your hand on their knees for stability, your fingers acted on their own as you came to reach underneath the strap that was dangled in the air, waiting to be used. Your fingers came to meet Hange’s folds, sliding easily past their sensitive labia, nearly as wet as your own, aching. Having been unbearably turned on since they saw your body’s visceral responses to them.

“That’s—so fucking hot, shit,” You whimpered, lost in the feeling of Hange’s insistent tongue slowly flicking deep against you and the way their centre seemed to just suck your fingers right in. Hange let out a muffled, guttural grunt into you, the vibrations making you clamp your thighs tight against their head. You almost felt apologetic, if it wasn’t for Hange, who seemed to get riled up by the very prospect of being choked out by your luscious thighs. Oxygen supply decreasing as amber eyes rolled into the back of their head, toned arms pulling you closer against them. Leaving behind marks on your skin that outlined where their fingers had been digging in.

Whilst simultaneously, you were plunging your fingers knuckles deep into their entrance. Your body leaning back as you bucked your wrist against them, fingers curling inwards against their walls. Hange’s eyes were stuck on you, watching as your body rocked against their mouth. Head hung back and breasts perked up as beads of sweat trickled down, illuminating your skin, the fine hairs around your stomach standing upright. Looking properly, they spotted a few moles scattered on your stomach, your lips were swollen as they bit out mutters of curses under your breath. Still trying to return the favour even despite feeling ruined. How divine.

The sight alone brought Hange to their knees, hazy pleasure erupting through them as they felt their body tremble. Truthfully, Hange seldom let people touch them, opting to typically give rather than receive, yet they felt like giving you permission to do whatever you wished with their body. They were so hypersensitive, extra responsive under your ambrosial touch. Debauched gasps melted into your core, still lapping at your slick as they rode through their own peak. Shuddering, as they seized their thighs against your wrist.

“Did you cu-“ Your excited, breathy voice was cut off by Hange grabbing your wrist, ripping your fingers out of themselves from overstimulation, their centre tensing with arousal dripping down their folds. Hange nodded as an affirmative, you could tell they were slightly stunned. Hange held your wrist against your back, elbow folding over as they lifted themselves up. Disconnecting your slit from their mouth, and moving you around as you returned to facing each other, your legs resting over their lap once more.

Hange’s spare hand caressed your jaw, uniting your lips together as they melded over yours. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, slipping their tongue into your mouth. You whined as they angled the tip of the strap over your folds, your slick lubricating the plastic. Hange was frenzied, desperately needing to see you stuffed with the silicone length. Elated from their own high, their words grew more depraved.

“Need to fuck this pussy,” They rasped, voice at the lowest frequency you’d heard from them, “Prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen,”

Your lips parted as Hange slipped the tip inside, stretching your walls out as you gripped onto their shoulders. Hissing as you adjusted to Hange burying themselves into your tender flesh. Sinking yourself down on the strap as your hips undulated against them, pressure building up again within your abdomen as Hange fucked the strap deep into you. Tip massaging over your inner walls, repeatedly hitting that same spot that made your breath catch in your throat and your vision go white.

“Fuc—keep going, pleas—please,” Mewling, you shut your eyes, eyebrows furrowing as your nails came to scratch at Hange’s back. Your words coming out in broken sobs, tears spilling down your cheeks as you were split apart on your own strap.

“So full—Hange—“

Hange sucked against your neck, then licking over the sore spots.

“Taking me so well,” Hange praised, voice sweetly laden with saccharine honey, “Sat so pretty on my cock,”

“ngh—Shit-I-I’m gonna come,” You were shaking, thighs trembling and abdomen twitching. Finally about to release after being so cruelly edged twice. The expression on your way was picture-worthy, fucked out and wanton.

“That’s it,” Hange kept rutting up into you, muttering praises, “Come all over me, baby,” A nibble at your earlobe and you were done for. Your climax reached you, tensing up your spine, mouth agape as you shuddered, face contorted.

“You look so pretty when you come,”

Your core tightened as you spilled out your release; the force pushing the strap out from inside you, squirting all over Hange’s lap. The hardest you’ve ever come in your life.

Hange didn’t relent just yet, making sure to fuck you through your peak so you could ride every second of it. When you finally stilled, your head fell onto Hange’s neck, murmuring softly against their clavicle. Sighing, you lifted your head up, greeting Hange’s half-lidded eyes with your own. A beat and Hange reconnected your lips together, gently kissing you as you came down. Mind still fuzzy and reeling. Their hands caressed your hips, thumbs running down your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Hange whispered, pressing a tender peck down against your swollen lips, “Wish you would’ve talked to me earlier,”

You laughed, breathy and uneven, as bashfulness struck again. Once the cloud of lust had settled, you were left with nerves, that doe look back in your eyes as you weren’t quite sure what to do now. What if Hange never wants to see you again? After all of this, you don’t think you could handle being emotionally ghosted. It was unlike you entirely, but the interest in Hange remained, simmering as you relished in their tight hold— a hold that almost promised you it wasn’t going to leave. You dared to dream.

“What are you thinking about?” Hange muttered, resting their forehead against yours, eyes closing.

“Um…” You hummed, hesitant, “This, I guess, I’m a little… nervous,”

“I guess I am, too,” They chuckled, pressing their head closer, hands still setting your skin aflame, “But, i-if you’d like to, I wanna take you out,” Pausing, “On a real date, that is, not under false tutoring pretences,”

You pulled your head back, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to stretch, an attempt at masking the hopeful beam in your eyes.

“I’d love that.”

—

listen u guys 😭 someone pls sedate me or give me a lobotomy cos what am i meant to do when i PINE over 2d characters

let me know if u guys enjoyed <3 i love to read ur comments and inputs

[daintyys]

baby i'm yours

fem!reader x tasm peter parker, 1.3k words, light swearing

this is a college au, basically peter and reader are dormmates at new york university. i love peter so pls give me prompts for him &lt;3

Peter was your best friend, and nothing more. That's what you kept having to tell yourself.

But, it was hard to think like that when you got a glimpse of him fresh out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, and hair dripping. Let's face it, he was comparable to a Greek God.

You had been friends with Peter Parker since highschool, and it was a pleasant surprise to find out he had gotten into NYU just like you did. It was automatically settled, you would be roommates.

While you were studying creative writing, Peter was diving into the field of biochemistry. You couldn't seem to comprehend why he was so interested in science until a year ago, when he confessed to you that he was Spider-Man. You had to admit, it wasn't too surprising. He had that Spider-Man air about him.

Mornings in your dorm were nice, especially since you and Peter had breakfast together. You could always tell when he had been out in the city the night before, because he was ravenous.

"Mphm, mowe eggths?" He mumbled through a stuffed mouth. "If you're so hungry you should make them yourself." You giggled to him. He rolled his eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes. You stood up, wanting to start getting ready for your day. Peter's classes started before yours did, so right after breakfast he would always leave, but today was different.

You could feel his eyes on your body as you filled your glass up with water. A tank top and sweatpants was normal apparel for you, so it was hard to tell what was different about now. "Are you checking me out, Peter?" You threw your head back around to look at him, and his heart visibly stopped. "No! No, no. I would never do that, ew." He choked out. You cocked your eyebrow at him, and his eyes widened. "Oh you know I didn't mean it like that, you're cute, Y/N." His face was about as red as the apple he was biting into. You laughed as you retreated into your bedroom.

When you were finished getting ready, you left your bedroom to find Peter still sitting at the table. "You're still here?" You asked, sitting back down next to him. "Well yea, I just didn't wanna leave without saying a real goodbye to you." He wasn't making eye contact, which only happened when he was nervous. "Oh, well you're not planning on dying today, right?" You asked, laughing slightly. He chuckled back. "Yea, no. Just feel weird leaving without seeing you again." You admired his face, and watched a flush up his neck.

"Peter, you like me, don't you?" You were joking, he should have known that, but his mind was obviously not registering the way you had spoken when he blurted out: "Is it that obvious??". You froze, processing the words that had just left his mouth.

Peter slapped his hands over his mouth, not realizing you had been messing with him. "Oh fuck." Was all he mumbled as he stood up from the table, grabbing his backpack.

"No, Peter, wait!" You said, standing as well. You reached for his hand, and he quickly pulled away from you, a traumatized expression plastered across his face. "I am so, so, incredibly sorry, Y/N." He spluttered as he pulled his shoes on. As soon as he had finished speaking, he was rushing out of your dorm, slamming the door behind him.

You sat back down at the table, for fear you would faint if you continued standing. Your face was burning, and you were having trouble breathing. "Oh my God..." you mumbled, nervously twisting your hair. Standing up again, you noticed Peter's lunchbox still sitting on the kitchen counter. That gave you an idea.

You had liked him for almost 3 years. Even in highschool, where he was continuously bullied, he always managed to put a smile on your face. He was a "loser", sure, but that never stopped you from hanging out with him. He was a great guy. You thought of the time you skipped school with him all because he wanted to teach you how to skateboard.

On that day, you had sworn he was going to kiss you. He held your body close to his, trying to keep the two of you balanced on his skateboard. You had felt his heart beating rapidly, and wondered if he was as flustered as you were.

But none of that mattered now, because your relationship with Peter could be ruined after his little slip-up.

You grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil, and began to furiously write. If speaking face-to-face with Peter would be too much for him, a letter would be the second best option.

Dear Peter,

Definitely didn't expect this morning to consist of you confessing your feelings to me, but that's alright, because I feel the same way. I have since we were 16.

I've tried for a while to deny it, but now that you've come clean, it's only fair for me to do the same. I love you, Peter. You are my favorite person, and I don't want this morning to change anything with us. If it does change, then I hope it's for the better, not the worse.

That's all, I don't want to scare you away.

Love,

Y/N

Your hands were shaking as you folded the letter in half and tucked it into Peter's lunchbox. Now all that was left was to get it to him.

You walked as fast as you could, not caring that people were yelling obscenities when you shoved past them. You had to get to Peter before his class started. Looking at your phone, you saw you had 5 minutes left. Shit.

You began to run, desperate to arrive in time. You threw the double doors to the building open, and ran in the direction of Peter's chemical analysis class. People were staring, because you definitely did not look like you were ready to divide cells in a lab.

You reached the classroom, and stopped to catch your breath. You took out your phone again. 2 minutes until the bell rang. You grinned as you pushed the door open slowly. Then you saw him.

He was sitting at a desk, staring at the board with glazed-over eyes. He was the most beautiful boy you had ever seen, and you giggled as you pictured a future with him. You walked over to him, taking deep breaths.

"Ahem..." You cleared your throat as you placed his lunch on his desk. Peter jumped, and went ghost white as he made eye contact with you. "Y/N, what are you-" He began. "Shut up. Don't say anything until you look in your lunchbox." You said as you turned on your heel and left. Peter was confused. Very confused.

As soon as you were out of the classroom, he ripped open his lunchbox, grabbing the sheet of paper you had left inside. He unfolded the letter with shaking hands, and read it carefully. His organs were in his throat. "I love you," He whispered to himself. "Oh my God."

Peter stuffed the letter into his pocket and shot up from his desk, and then he was darting out of the classroom with his things, needing to find you as soon as possible.

You were walking back to your dorm, smiling to yourself, when your racing thoughts were interrupted with a yell. "Y/N! Y/N!" You stopped instantly, and turned around to see Peter barreling towards you. You laughed as he engulfed you in his arms, kissing you all over your forehead.

"Couldn't wait until later, hm?" You giggled, looking up into his eyes. Peter smiled, and shrugged. "I could have, but I didn't want to." He said as he put his arm around your shoulder. AYou walked home together, fingers interlaced, and dreamed of your future together.

[lonelierthanu]

Penmanship

Satoru Gojo x Gender-neutral Reader

series: incomplete

words: 3.4k

warnings: mentions of smoking; funny; meet-ugly; no mentioned female or male anatomy; no spoilers; no curses; slow build; slow to update; college au

summary: you decided you never want to see this man again and fuck the pen altogether. Well, life has other plans.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 …+

Your coffee splashed dramatically against the concrete wall you tossed it at. You’re pissed, to say the least, and the sugarless coffee —that you asked for extra sugar for— was your tipping point.

You were behind some bleachers that laid against the wall outside the dining hall. You’re not sure why these bleachers are here? They seem old and were probably here way before the school was renovated and they put in a huge football field across campus. The school is old so you wouldn’t be surprised if they just left it here. But right now you’re grateful they did because you’re knee deep in a tantrum, if one wants to consider it one, and this is your only sanctuary at the moment.

“Was that necessary?” Aoi asks you, after he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“I thought you said you were going to quit?” Rikki asks from beside him.

“And I thought you said you would never date Tenji,” he mumbles under his breath as he takes another drag and doesn’t bother blowing away from her direction, a courtesy he would have usually given. Rikki scowls at the side of his face.

“We’re not dating.”

“The pictures on his instagram say something different,” Aoi takes another drag.

“I was… drunk…” Rikki crosses her arms as she kicks a rock towards your direction. It lands back in its spot after bouncing off your shoe. It startled her attention towards you, like she suddenly remembered you were there.

You roll your eyes at both of them and lean against the opposite wall from them. Since you’ve known them they’ve had a weird relationship. At least in your eyes. You’ve known them for a little longer than a year and they’ve had an on and off crush on each other since the three of you met. And the two sides have never been on the same page. One person has a crush on the other, then the other gets feelings when the other person loses feelings . It’s a weird dynamic that you wish they’d get over already.

But a part of you wants it to stay this way, so your friendship never changes. But you know that one day this weird game of tug of war will come to an end and it’ll either end in peace, or someone in the mud.

“To answer your question Aoi, yes. That was completely necessary,” You say to break the silence. Rikki jumps at the opportunity to change the subject and cut through the tension. She comes to lean next to you.

“What’s got your panties in a twist anyway?”

“Remember that creepster that thought I was hitting on him for a week?” Rikki tries to hold back her laugh. She fails. You had told her about what happened the next morning after the incident on Saturday. Despite her hangover she found the misunderstanding hilarious. Laughing while saying ‘oh my god, that is so something he would do!’ And you ended up filling Aoi in during one of your class periods you shared with him a couple hours ago.

“Yeah,” she answers, failing to hide her smile.

“Well my professor paired us up for a group project,” you cross your arms.

“At the end of the semester?” Aoi asks as he stomps on his cigarette to put it out, “How does she expect you to get a project done during the week of exams?”

“No, starting next semester is when we start the project. The worst part is, we’ll be working on it ‘till February,” You groaned into your hands, covering your face with them.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Rikki tries to console you by putting a hand on your shoulder. You put your hands down to glare at her.

“Don’t jinx me,” Rikki laughs at you. Aoi smirks, also finding this amusing. “And wipe that smug look off your face,” you point a finger directly in Aoi’s face. He pushes your hand out of the way and rolls his eyes at you, still smug.

You stuff your hands into your jacket pockets, trying to fight off the cold. You’re not looking forward to next semester, to say the least, and when you heard the devastating news of Creepster being your project partner you immediately started thinking of ways to get out of it.

Because since that Saturday you had heard no word of this man until that following Monday. He came in late, like usual, but before he showed up your professor had given the whole spiel about the details of the new project the class would be working on. Everyone picked their own partner but you since there was an odd number of students in the class. Then Creepster walked in.

She told him you’d be his partner and he turned his head to look at you while she vaguely explained the project to him. Your body turned cold when his smirk grew wider. Like he was looking forward to this. The professor dismissed him to his seat saying you could explain in more detail.

When he sat down he faced you, completely ignoring the rest of the professor’s lecture. He leaned his head on his hand, smirk still present on his face. You refused to look at him and continued looking forward.

“Hey partner,” you internally recoiled. He sensed your unease and with the new bout of knowledge that this guy thinks you have some sort of crush on him, or just wanna get in his pants, he probably took your unease for nervousness. The thought alone pissed you off.

He barely got two words out of you in that class, which was yesterday, and today was no better. Though somehow you ended up agreeing to go to his house (his real house) to outline and plan the beginning of the project to finish it faster after the break. It was his idea and it honestly shocked you to hear him suggest a genuine responsible plan. Not gonna lie, you definitely thought the word “ responsible “ didn’t exist within his vocabulary.

You only mildly cared about this idea. You mostly agreed to do so you can finally get that damn pen back before you go on break. You’ll be damned if you go home empty handed when you confidently told your niece you’d bring it back.

“So. What are you gonna do?” Aoi asks, putting his hands into his jacket pockets as well.

“Get my pen back,” you answer, then your phone rings before you can look at his confused expression. It’s your alarm to go to your last class. You leave them to ruminate in their awkward tension.

Creepster told you he’d pick you up after school to take you to his house. You were definitely uncomfortable with the idea of being alone in a car with this man, but you don’t have money for a ride right now, Rikki went to work today, and it beats walking an hour and a half to his place.

You waited at the school's gate for fifteen minutes and was about to text him when you remembered you don't have his number. But before you could stress over that fact, a shiny black Lexus pulled up in front of you. The driver window lowered revealing a strange man at the wheel. He said your name and asked if you were who you were. You didn’t answer at first but then Creepster moved into your line of vision in the passenger seat.

“Get in loser,” he laughed at his own reference, then smiled at you. You rolled your eyes and opened the door to the back seat.

The drive was fairly short, probably a little shorter than ten minutes, and the drive was not silent. But you were glad for that, because if it weren’t for the surprisingly good tunes being blasted through the speakers, you know your awkward uncomfortable air would have permeated through the windows for the other drivers on the road to feel. You’re also glad that you aren’t alone with this guy. That would have been a whole different situation for you.

When you pull up to his house you physically feel the hinges connecting your jaw to your skull unclick. You gawk at the state of his house while you pick your jaw up off the car floor.

His house is fucking huge.

And this is his actual house. You have half a mind to confirm that.

When you head inside you have to put in extra effort to keep your eyes from bulging out of their sockets. It’s just as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside. The difference between this and the frat house is vast.

For starters, it’s furnished way better. Which makes you think he definitely didn’t do it himself. It’s clean, which you weren’t expecting, and it smells nice. Another thing you weren’t expecting but desperately hoping for.

“So, should we get started?” Creepster says from behind you. It startles you how close he is. You jump at least a foot away before turning to him.

“Yeah,” you say, calmer than your heart is beating. He guides you to his dining room where a large circular table resides next to a beautiful huge island with high bar stools tucked into it and a sink in the middle. The dining area is surrounded by windows, letting copious amounts of natural sunlight in. The room is brightly lit without any lights being on. It’s impressive. This is the type of room you’d save in a pinterest board.

He pulls out a chair for you to sit on, but the way he smiles at you after pisses you off so you sit in the chair next to it. He seems amused by this, and chuckles fondly.

“I’m gonna go grab my laptop, I'll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he jokes. You don’t laugh, but he walks away without seeing if you do or not. You see him walk through an alcove in the kitchen and go to the right. Once you know he’s gone you look more thoroughly at your surroundings. You see a set of grandiose stairs in the living room by the entry. And from where you’re seated you can see two halls up there and a third one could exist but it’s too high to tell. You already know you’d get lost trying to walk through here. Your family would have to send a search team to find you.

Your eyes shift over to see grand imposing glass doors that lead to a pool, there could be more land out there but you can’t tell from where you’re sitting. But from how huge the estate is from when you pulled up you already know the backyard is huge. You don’t see any other doors around besides the one in the kitchen, but you just assume that’s a broom closet or a bathroom or something.

Just from looking around you’ve lost a glimmer of hope of finding this pen. It’d be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. You’re already preparing the apology to your niece in your head.

“You want a tour?” You whip your head around to see Houdini putting his laptop and bag onto the table and pulling a chair out across from you.

“No,” you answer immediately because the thought of him knowing you’re impressed by his home makes you wanna scratch at your skin. But after a quick second you realize that that could’ve been your chance to find the pen. You curse at yourself. He sits down and opens his laptop. You take yours out from your bag and place it on the table as well.

You want to just open your mouth and ask for the pen again, but a part of you is scared he’ll think you're trying to hit on him again. You agreed to come to his house so that could definitely send the wrong message in this guy’s delusional brain.

“Can I get your notes on the project so far?” He asks without looking up from his laptop. You take your notebook out of your bag and slide it across the table. He shares a doc with you before opening it. So, he really is going to work on this project. A part of you thought this was another ruse to sleep with you. To say you’re relieved is an understatement.

The next half hour goes by with him asking you yes or no questions, finding resources to cite from, quotes, studies, creating the powerpoint and typing in each slide what each should consist of, and starting a rough draft for the essay you’re meant to write. Everything is going pretty smoothly and you’re proud of the progress you’ve made in such a short time. You’re also pleasantly surprised by Herc-Houdini’s work ethic. You’re starting to think he might not be that bad.

And honestly, when you think about the situation, you can kind of see how he misunderstood. It may seem a little absurd to you that asking for a pen correlates to ‘please sleep with me’, but if there are people doing weirder things to get him to sleep with them, then you kind of understand. You’re still not very keen on him though. His reputation and the crowd he’s associated with just puts you off.

Hercules groans loudly as he stretches his arms. The muscles in them tense and show off the gains he’s worked for. A small part of you thinks that he wore that shirt on purpose, but when he’s relaxed he looks as skinny and lanky as always.

I’ll be right back,” he tells you before getting up and heading for that same alcove, going to the left. You vaguely notice him going in a different direction than before and go back to doing your work. You almost jolt with the realization that you could look around and find the pen while he’s gone.

Frankly, this could be a terrible idea. You don’t know what he’s doing so he could be back any moment. You could say you were looking for a bathroom, but then you could’ve just asked when he got back. You’re already up and walking while thinking of the logistics of this plan. It’s stupid, you know, but what if you find the pen? It seems like a great risk to reward ratio to you.

Knowing Sherlock went to the left you check there first once you’ve met the alcove, then dash to the right and go through the first door you see. Unfortunately, you’re met with a bathroom so your excuse has now flown out the window. You could just play dumb.

Before you exit, you listen to the door, then slowly open it to peek outside. Still nothing, so you leave, closing the door behind you before going to the next one. You do this three more times. You were met with two closets and a study, that you did search just in case. When you see the end of the hall you start to feel disappointed, but then you realize there’s a sharp corner. When you turn it, you see a narrow set of stairs.

At this point, you know that you took entirely too long and that Houdini has most likely gone back to the table and realized you were gone. Taking these stairs will make your search even longer and there’s no plausible explanation you could give that’ll justify you snooping around this guy’s house.

You give yourself three seconds to think it over.

Fuck it.

You’re justifying the irrationality of your actions to yourself as you trudge up the stairs, also pretending that the consequences that will undoubtedly follow won’t be that bad. But really? What’s the worst that could happen? He bans you from his home? No biggie. If you find this pen, you don’t plan on coming back anyway.

Or maybe he’ll hate you and think you’re extremely unmannered. Fine by you, then the feeling of dislike will be mutual and he’ll finally leave you alone forever.

Or maybe he’ll lie to his “clique” that you’re a thief and only agreed to do a project with him so you could slither your way into his house and they all make fun of you for the duration of your college career which will then spiral into more awful rumors and you’ll be branded an outcast and be ridiculed so horrendously that not even your friends will want to be around you…

…Or maybe you’re overthinking it entirely and it’ll all be perfectly fine.

As you come to a stop at the top of the stairs you realize that there were three halls up here. You don’t dare check the view below in fear that Sherlock will see you. So, you creep along the wall that you hope isn’t in view from down stairs and bolt for the nearest hallway. Heart beat pumping a million beats per second.

You open the first door, a closet. A second door, a very small bedroom with nothing but a bed and a lonely side table. A third door, a much bigger room with a pretty sweet gaming setup, though it looks unfinished.

The end of the hall, a large room that’s akin to a master bedroom, a bathroom and balcony included. The room isn’t quite messy, but it does appear to be lived in. The bed unmade, a dresser drawer left open, a couple clothing items on the floor near the hamper, and miscellaneous items strewn about in flat surfaces.

A pair of huge, round, dark sunglasses sitting on top of the dresser tell you exactly whose room you’ve stumbled into.

Once you’ve realized, a moment of doubt passes through you. What if he finds you here? But as quickly as it came, it passed. You’ve made it this far unnoticed, what’s one more minute.

A quick glance tells you that the pen isn’t lying about so you begin your search. You only look in places it could possibly be and refrain from his dressers. You check random bags that were in his extraordinarily large walk-in closet. You check in hoodie and pants pockets even. You leave the closet with a fraction less of hope and check under his bed. Still Nothing. You have half a mind to check his dirty clothes but decide to check his bedside drawers before getting that desperate.

It’s when you’re about to wiggle yourself from under Houdini’s bed that you hear it.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to snoop?”

You jolt so hard you hit your head on the bed frame while trying to frantically wiggle free. When you do, you're met with that same smirk. Like he’s amused to find you this way. He walks towards you from the door frame, you unconsciously backup and bump against the side table. He stops right in front of you and bends down slightly to tower over you, his face slightly shrouded in darkness.

“If you wanted a tour you could have just said so,” he drawls deeply, in a quiet tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

“No, I-“ he chuckles.

“You, what? hm?” he takes one of his hands out of his pockets to reveal your pen, “You we’re looking for this?” Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before a glare marks its position on your face. Was he making fun of you?

“Give it to me,” you try to reach for it, but he effortlessly dodges out of the way. He patronizingly waves a finger at you.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he taunts, “I can’t just give it to you now,” irritation bubbles within you.

“And why the hell not?”

“Because. You pranced around my house uninvited and invaded my privacy,” You stand up, refusing to be looked down upon, even though standing up he’s still taller than you.

“So? Then what do you want?” He hums to your question and puts the end of the pen on his chin as he contemplates.

“How much are you willing to do for this pen?” You raise a judgmental eyebrow at him. “Of course nothing drastic,” he adds, “but how far are you willing to go?”

“Well, if i’m willing to stifle through a man’s house like some kind of thief then I guess you can gauge it yourself,” He smiles at that. He lowers his glasses and you see his crystal blue eyes in person for the first time. You’re almost enraptured by them until he opens his mouth.

“Date me.”

(･ω<)☆

when i tell you i didn’t know what the fuck to write 💀last chapter i realized that is abt to be a s l o w b u r n and i’m right there along with you guys wondering what’s abt to happen next 😭 hopefully chapter 5 won’t take 4 months this time 🙃

★prev next ☆

[nanaminokanojo]

BAD NEWS (part 69)

-just when you thought you were over your humongous crush on your older brother’s best friend, geto suguru, you couldn’t have been more dead wrong, except satoru doesn’t like suguru for you because he knows his kind all too well: a huge ass playboy who breaks hearts like he changes socks. but you think, MAYBE you’ll be the exception…maybe not.

CHARACTERS: drummer!geto suguru x you/afab reader | gojo satoru | various jjk characters

GENRE: full-length smau + prose | band au | college au | stupid pining | aged-up characters | friends to lovers (?) | smut

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol, drugs | mentions of cheating, promiscuity, mild dubcon, etc. | god-awful pet names | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 69 next>>

A/N: Prose after the 4th panel.

"No, Kiku! Come back!" 

You sighed, watching Choso's cat jump off the bed, darting into the hallway and out of sight. "Well, there he goes." You rolled on your stomach, eyeing your host with a pout. "You scared him."

Sukuna chuckled, his deep voice rumbling in the room from where he sat on the floor at the foot of the bed. He threw his head back on the mattress to look at you, one hand reaching up to lightly poke you on the cheek with his index finger. "Did you come here for me or for that bratty cat?"

"I braved the rain for you with the perk of seeing Kiku," you quipped, snickering when he pinched your cheek, rolling his eyes.

He clicked his tongue. "That's a stretch considering how Geto suddenly has a huge-ass umbrella and walks you to the door." Sukuna returned his train of vision to the flat screen where the movie you were watching was all but forgotten. "You seem to be getting along fine now."

"I guess." And before you knew it, you were saying, "Suguru is confusing me these days. He's just this huge puzzle I'm trying to piece together even before I left."

Sukuna vaulted himself up, sitting on the bed just beside your head while hitting pause on the remote. He looked down at you, his playful mood replaced with that of concern. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I do. I just don't know what to say," you readily responded, also surprising yourself when you thought of all the things you felt you couldn't say to Suguru. And then, lost in your thoughts – not of Suguru but of Sukuna – you said, "I know I said I find this – us – weird, but it's so much easier being with you."

It felt different with Sukuna. It was comfortable, as natural as breathing. You can just say or do whatever you wanted without the fear of being judged or rejected. After all, you've known Sukuna, along with Yuji and Choso, all your life. So, when he says he has seen you in your diapers, he meant that quite literally. You all grew up right across the street from each other with your family moving in when Choso was three and Sukuna was just born. The brothers were pretty much Satoru's very first friends and eventually yours as well, until Suguru came into the picture during the beginning of primary school.

Of course, you liked Yuji the best out of them since you were the same age. You'll always have a special place for the youngest of the three boys even with Megumi around, but you're realizing that, when it came to speaking your mind, it was Sukuna whom you sought for. He's surprisingly a great listener, and for someone whom you've known to have a penchant for delinquency, he gave very sound advice, acting like a proper older sibling when the situation required it. Sometimes, even better than Choso who had a tendency to panic. Just like Suguru, he's been there through almost every phase of your life, and he was one of the staunch believers in your talent on the field, always there during your games.

"Baby, don't give me false hope."

"I'm not." You shrugged, chuckling as you absently ran your fingers over the tattoos on his arm, tracing the artfully iterated characters of his brothers' names on the side of his right wrist. He may act like a bully to both of them, but he's a big lump of melted marshmallows on the inside. "It's just..."

What if you gave what's going on with Sukuna a chance? Perhaps you weren't appreciating his presence enough as you ought to, too preoccupied with Suguru. The lack of clarity where your relationship with Suguru was ironically plain to see. In contrast, with Sukuna, perhaps…

"Just what?"

"Kuna..."

"Yeah?"

In very abrupt movements, you bolted up, sitting lotus and orienting yourself towards him. He was startled, you noticed, but you were much too distracted by your current course of contemplation to address it no matter how funny he looked, blinking in confusion.

"Why do you like me?"

Sukuna arched a brow at you. "Damn, baby. You're full of surprises today."

You know he meant to tease you, but there was no distracting you at the moment. "Well?"

"Let's see..." He stroked his chin, pretending to puzzle over the matter, but then, he looked at you seriously. "I couldn't think of one reason why I shouldn't, that's for sure. And though I can think of a million reasons why I am attracted to you off the top of my head, they will all seem shallow."

"But?"

"But I care about you, not because of those fragmented details about you, but the whole package." A tinge of pink touched his cheeks, a hand making it to the back of his neck as he averted his gaze to your hand on his arm. "For some reason, I just realized I do like you more than just being childhood friends. Perhaps I realized what I was missing when you went away or the teasing caught up to me, but when you came back, it felt different.

And I've known you for so long, but I've never once found a reason not to love anything and everything about you, and...and – I'm rambling now." He snickered, glancing at you with uncertainty dancing in his garnet-flecked eyes. "I just thought, why not, you know? I-I hope I'm making sense."

Who would have known, you thought, not realizing that you were holding your breath and biting your lower lip at the same time as you fought a smile. To say that his words were unexpected was an understatement, and for the first time, it got you fully acknowledging how he affects you outside of how you viewed him as an older brother of sorts without the denial and frustration of trying to wrap your head around the notion that he sees you as a woman.

"Hey, don't look at me like that. You're teasing me, baby girl." He feigned annoyance, even rolling his eyes at you but eventually melting into laughter with you.

Again, comfortable and easy. "Not the intention, but I appreciate that. Really. I never knew..."

"Now you do."

A stretch of silence followed his words, but it wasn't awkward at all, just relaxed and pleasant. Like those times you would all lie down on the grass after racing to that tree on top of the hill behind their house, catching your breath, no words, just the occasional chuckles at your own silliness. It felt nice.

The two of you didn't say a thing for a few more moments until you decided to speak and say, "So...where's my surprise?" You looked around you, pretending to look for it.

Sukuna flashed you a rueful smile. "Today didn't work out quite the way I had it planned."

"It's okay. I was just kidding."

"Although..." He adjusted his position, coming closer towards you, his movements cautious. "I would say it's for the best."

"Why is that?"

Suddenly, he turned serious, meeting your gaze squarely. "I've been wanting to try something for a while now."

"Try w-what...?"

It was your turn to be thrown off balance when Sukuna lifted a hand to your cheek, his touch tentative like that time in his car as he came even closer, invading your space. His fingers were cold against your skin which grew warmer the longer he lingered. His probing gaze followed the movement of his hand to your chin, and it seemed he was holding his breath when he let out a quiet sigh as he looked at you as if he was seeing color for the first time.

Sukuna's tongue briefly darted between his slightly parted lips before saying, "I seriously wanna kiss you right now." His eyes shifted from your lips to your eyes as he sought permission. "May I?" He swallowed hard, gaze heated as they returned to where he had set his goal. 

You just stared at him in a daze, not really knowing how you would respond to his request. And just when you were about to move away and put an end to it, your thoughts went back to the notion of giving it a try, see how you feel about it.

"Or we can forget I ever asked."

"No, I –" You shook your head, feeling your mouth go dry as you groped for words to say, the right ones. And then you whispered, "Go ahead."

He was absolutely taken aback, but made no move to be any farther from you. "You sure?" he asked, taking on a gentler tone. "You don't have to –"

"I want to." You were surprised at yourself for saying that with more conviction despite how your heart wanted to jump out of your chest that it's all you could hear in your head. The consequences of allowing it made themselves known one after the other in your mind, flashing like a montage; a warning came along with it, a tiny voice in your head saying you're about to cross the vague line between friendship and beyond that. However, you didn't want to take your words back, mostly out of curiosity.

"O...kay?"

You nodded slowly, and before you could make sense of what he was saying, he came closer, his lips tenderly pressing onto your cheek as he pulled you closer. Sukuna rested his forehead against yours, his eyes drooping with a bewitched look. His mouth stretched into that lopsided grin as he murmured, "Wanted this to be more special..." 

His thumb brushes your skin lightly, and he hesitates for a moment, as if savoring the space between you, the anticipation hanging thick in the air, killing you with how you've pretty much stopped breathing. And when you least expected it, thinking he has yet more to say, his lips touched yours, light as butterfly wings. He pulled away a smidge only to kiss you again, slowly yet with gradually increasing pressure that prompted you to move with him, little by little, baby steps like he told you.

And you did just that, moving on your own accord, hand reaching up to mirror the way he held you. Your mind went hazy with every detail of how he kissed making itself known to you. His lips sought yours without the force you were expecting from his evident eagerness, and yet it quietly implied his insistence to have you. His hot tongue mildly brushed at the seam of your lips, tiny licks that convinced you to open up just a bit at a time until eventually, you let him in, wanting to know what lies beyond.

You responded in kind, opening your mouth and matching his tenderness with your own, feeling his warmth seep into you. His other hand finds its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, deepening your connection. Sukuna let out a deep groan once he found your tongue, making you acutely aware of every sensation he elicited from you - how his soft and warm lips moved with hunger that sent shivers down your spine, distracting you from how he was slowly pushing you into the plush mattress, his taut body moving above your pliant form.

“Kuna…” you breathed out when he momentarily cut the kiss to catch his breath.

“Want me to stop?” he asked, but at odds with his words, he took your lips back against his; breath mingling with yours, creating a rhythm that feels both foreign and familiar. 

“N-no,” you whined, so out of it as you wound your arms around his neck to have him closer. You can feel his heartbeat through the light press of his chest against yours, a steady counterpoint to the racing of your own while his fingers trace a slow, soothing pattern on your waist, a gentle anchor that keeps you grounded in his dizzying ministrations.

The kiss deepens gradually, growing in intensity as your confidence builds. His lips move with a practiced ease, exploring the contours of your mouth with a mixture of curiosity and assurance, making you lose yourself in the warmth and the quiet strength of his arms around you.

And then clarity set in.

A kiss is a kiss, you've expected the chemical reaction that comes with it. It wasn't your first, it's definitely not going to be your last. What you weren't expecting was the visceral effect Sukuna's kisses had on you. He had a certain pull to him that kept you wanting more and more, but then, he himself pulled away.

Just as well. The thought of craving his touch scared you in the sense that you didn't want your attraction towards him to solely be based on that. Sukuna is a good person, and you didn't want to short change him, considering everything he said.

"This isn't so bad," he spoke against your lips, continuing his words earlier, you surmised. 

You honestly didn't know what to say when he was still close enough for the tip of his nose to glide over your flushed cheek. Sukuna's a good kisser, that much you figured out in your addled state, not even realizing that you were the one holding him in place, your fingers tingling with the feel of his undercut.

Having caught yourself, you let your hand fall on his shoulder as you nodded and met his eyes with your own. A smile drew itself across your lips. "No, not at all," you couldn't help but agree as you regained your composure, finally finding it in you to be playful with him. Again, easily done without lingering awkwardness. "Who would have known?"

Sukuna arched a brow at you in question, chuckling, but not quite sure what you meant. "What?"

You tried to fight your laughter, biting your lower lip but all in vain. Who would have known, indeed? He's always been someone you held dear like you would Satoru and yet your reaction to him would suggest otherwise. Your cheeks were still flushed, you could feel the heat even on your ears. 

He shrugged, feigning annoyance as he lay down beside you, propping himself up by his elbow. "I kiss you and you laugh? You really know how to hurt a man."

"Not the intention. I just..." You took his free hand in yours despite it being larger, giving it a squeeze. "Did you ever think we would be like this? Be honest."

"I'd be lying if I say I didn't." He flipped your hand, raising it to the side of his face and holding it there. "I might've thought of it a few times before." He tilted his head to the side, smirking at you. "What about you? Weren't you running around with your girlfriends in high school spying on us during band practice?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "Dragged along is more like it. You should've seen me gag when they fawned over you lot."

"Really? You're not gagging now."

You averted your gaze, suddenly feeling shy. "I'm not."

"So, what does that mean, hmm?" He redirected your line of sight on him, taking you by your chin to turn your gaze towards him. "Am I at least a good kisser?"

You merely shrugged, fighting a smile as you moved to get up much to his confusion. "Mine to know."

"Oh, come on!"

TAG LIST: @lilc77 @lavender-hvze @maya-maya-56 @kibananya @nerdisthenewcool @darkstarlight82 @lysaray @ti-mame @ri-sa20 @diogodxlot @sugurubabe @guacam011y @yeehawslap @luvvmae @s-j320 @ichorstainedskin @iaminyourfloors @tanchosanke @hellyyy06 @tacobellfreshavocado @mrs-monkey-d-luffy @iluv-ace @satoryaa @clxvrs @saccharine-nectarine

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240814]

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[aka-indulgence]

Moonlight

Been thinking of an au where Sans is a banished moon god and you’re the daughter of The Sun, in the form of Sunlight. You’re one of many, but you’re the only one who dared to visit the moon god…

—————

A lone twinkling light floats over the night sky, like a space firefly. Your silken dress trails behind you, catching your light, like a flickering flame.

You left the earth at sundown, along with your many sisters. But this was unlike your usual travels- you weren’t with your sisters. It feels weird, the sky feels empty without them. You should’ve gone with them, to go home towards the sun, your mother. Instead… you were flying in the earth’s shadow, towards the darkened moon.

You don’t know how it happened, it just… did. Maybe because as the sun started to set and you looked up at the stars, they remembered about the moon, his myths and legends.

“They said he tried to destroy the earth, once.” Loni said. “He failed and fled to the moon.”

“They said he hates life… he hates the ring of gods, at the very least.”

“Do you think he’s even real…?” Thea wondered, prompting the rest of them to look at her.

“Thea!” One of them cried. “Of course he’s real!”

“How do you know?” She prompted. “Have you ever seen a depiction of The moon? I bet the humans don’t even know he exists.”

“But-”

“Have you ever seen him directly?”

“...”

No one has seen the moon in eons. Persumably since he was banished.

“No one can go to the moon… of course we’ve never seen him.”

“They said mother chained him thousands and thousands of years ago. If he could escape, I bet we’d have seen him.”

“... Would you go to the moon to see him?”

The rest of the girls get a giddy look on their faces when Thea’s expression sours a little. She doesn’t say anything.

You look up at the darkening sky as your other sisters leave earth.

“... I would.”

Everyone’s head snapped to look at you. You’d stayed quiet during the entire conversation, you bet most had forgotten you were there as well.

“(Y/n)?? Really?!”

They sounded scandalous.

“I want to know.” You said simply.

“You want to go there?” Loni grimaces. “No way… that’s so scary… and it’s forbidden... are you sure you want to?”

“Yeah. I’ll go alone.”

Their jaws collectively drop. As you ascend into the sky, the look on their faces tell you that they know they should stop you, but they don’t. Like children who’s seeing a big no-no but want to know what happens anyway.

You just wanted to know. It was a good question. Presumably the last being to see The Moon was your mother. The other gods literally wouldn’t touch it.

Just a little peek. Then you’ll leave.

The distant stars are your only company. You don’t think you’ve been without your mother’s light for a long time. Or alone, for the matter.

Before long, you’ve arrived on the moon.

The dust poofs away when your feet touch the ground. Almost immediately you realize that it’s… too quiet.

In the sky it was quiet but serene. Here, it felt… dead. The moon was gray, dull. Barren and devoid of life. It was nothing like earth (which was basically your second home), bustling and loud. Even when you stood alone in fields of grass, the wind was there to accompany you. There was just… nothing, here.

Your mother’s light doesn’t reach here, in the shadows. It was just you.

The only sound was your footsteps on the lunar surface. You didn’t really know where you were going, but you could see something that looked like a temple in the distance. You’ve seen plenty of temples on earth, mostly dedicated to your mother. You’ve seen temples for the other gods too, and even a shrine for the sun’s daughters. But… you’ve never seen this one. It looks, fittingly, like no one’s been here for centuries, thousands of years even. There’s a symbol on it… a sphere with an arc in it.

You’re very confident that’s where you’re heading.

Entering it, you have an unshakable feeling that you’re not supposed to be here. You know that already, but now it feels like your body is screaming at you to run out. It’s somehow even quieter in here than it was outside- like doors and windows were just shut on you, the air being sucked out.

The temple would have been completely dark if it wasn’t for you. Where your light falls short, was a black void.

You couldn’t deny it, you were shaking. Your fingers trembled, your legs felt weak. You took in a slow, shuddering breath.

Even if he’s here… and the pit in your stomach is telling you that he is, he’s chained. Otherwise he’d already be running amok. Mother would know.

The temple itself wasn’t very large (and you wondered what it’d be used for if it wasn’t for the moon god’s rampage), and it didn’t take long before you’ve descended into a spacious room with some grim looking prison bars. You could hear your heart, it was so quiet.

Just a little bit ahead of you, on the far wall beyond the bars, you saw a hunched figure on the floor. You could barely see him, thanks to your light (which was dimmer, on account of the fear the moon struck).

You hold your breath- the figure moved. He wore a dark gray cloak that draped over him, keeping his face in the shadows. The shadows around your light cut deep. A chill runs over your spine when you see a skeletal hand extend out of the robe, touching your light.

It was like seeing a ghost.

He turned his hand over, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A hoarse voice, marred from years of being unused, calls out.

“... sun…?”

He sounds… slightly… irate.

You make a small gasp when two sharp, unkind glowing eyes looked at you from under the hood.

Then… you see a wide grin stretch out on his face, illuminated by your light.

“oooh….” He drawls, “what do we have here?”

His voice was dark and ancient. It somewhat resembled the voice of the ‘big’ gods- distorted. It sounds as if he’s whispering to you, yet you could feel the power in his voice hitting you like a hurricane wind.

You were stuck- frozen. Watching the moon god of myths turn to look at you better.

“hello there, child of sun.” He greets you with what you feel like is faux hospitality.

He was waiting for a response.

“H…. hello there, Moon,” you reply with as much respectful reverence as possible, bowing to him. He looks smugly pleased with your behavior.

“very good… what is your name, little light?”

You wanted nothing more than to flee. But you had a sneaking suspicion that doing so might give banished god a grudge on you.

“I-” your voice cracked. “I’m (Y/n).”

You sounded braver on the second try. You’re sure you look much braver than you are.

The god acknowledges you. “welcome, (y/n). let me introduce yourself- i’m sure i don’t need to tell you who i am… i hope?”

That was a rhetorical question if you ever heard one. Hastily, you shook your head.

“good… but i’m sure your dear mother wouldn’t want anyone to know my name. oh, she’s tried so hard to forget me…” he chuckles bitterly. “so let me introduce myself. my name is sans.

“so, (y/n).” Sans uttered. “what brings you here, to my lowly prison… one which was once my domain?”

“Uh…”

“did your mother send you? to check on this miserable joke of a god? shackled to his supposed land of power?”

His grin was becoming sharper and his voice started to get louder. You had to reassure- no, diffuse him.

“N-no, Moon Sans.”

He seems almost surprise to hear you say his name, enough that he temporarily forgets his anger.

“... i haven’t heard anyone use that name in years…”

His grin had fallen a little.

You look innocently at him. “That is what people call you, right..?”

His expression darkens. “that is my name, but… no.”

“they call me the ‘one cast in darkness’. ‘banished brother’. the ‘dark one’. … feh. the one’s in the light love to… throw shade. the ones i called my brethren. they can’t even look at me… they threw me in here and never looked back. ” He spits.

“so… what brought a sweet little drop of sunlight to the barren moon, hm?”

The way his voice switched from dripping with poison to dripping with honey unnerved you.

“did you come to see this hideous face?”

You almost reactively take a step back when the god leans forward, more of his face revealed in the light. Part of you were expecting it, but you’ve only heard of sparse descriptions of the moon god. When you saw his skeletal face, his eyelights set in midnight black sockets, it took everything in you to keep your face neutral, lest you offended the god.

You gulped. If his temper was as famous as his stories were (and you were sure you saw his fuse ignite), would he be upset with your answer?

“N… no.” You wouldn’t call him hideous. You’ve just never seen a god that looked like him before. “I… I wanted to see if you were real.”

A flash of red on his face.

“hahahahah!” He bellowed suddenly, harshly. “of course. i’m sure i’m just a forgotten myth by now, aren’t i? no one’s visited here since your wretched mother-” You flinched, “-chained me here, left me to rot. they all did. the joke is on them… i won’t fade away like they hoped- prayed i would. one day the light will die and i’ll be there to make them pay.”

A growl rips out of his throat at his last words- you couldn’t help it, you squeaked. The banished god’s eyes snapped to look at you, the snarl on his face turning back to a smile that was too soft after his burst if anger.

“oh…. you poor thing…” Sans coos. It was like his voice was caressing you in the worst ways. “i’m sorry, did i scare you? little light… you don’t deserve my ire, you had nothing to do with my entrapment.”

You’re clutching onto your scarf, enough so that you feel like it would rip. You’re quite surprised, actually- you were sure the moon god would have such a deep grudge for your mother that he’d hate her daughters just as much, but… no. You didn’t know how to feel about the moon god’s concern for you. Having his attention felt like a horribly bad thing.

The god brings a skeletal finger to his face, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “you’re a brave one, aren’t you?” he acknowledged, “bravery… or ignorance. not even the big gods have dared come near my moon. they know what i’m capable of.”

Instantly you find yourself looking down- you let out a quiet sigh. Your light illuminates his chains, glinting whenever you move. It must be your mother’s magic reacting to your sunlight, because it wasn’t just reflecting the light, it was glowing ever so softly. It looked ancient… old, but not rusted. You felt like you were looking at living history. Just like your sisters, to you, it felt like the story of the moon god was stuck in a fairytale. That he was the villain of a story that was just that- a story. Yet here you were, looking at him in his prison, the chains your mother put on him still brilliant for its age. Two were shackled to his wrists and two more went under his robe to his feet.

Despite that and the sturdy bars between you and him… it felt like you were the one who was cornered and trapped with him.

The moon was undoubtedly still his dominion.

His chains clink quietly as he shifted.

“come closer, starlight…” Sans beckoned, “i want to see you better. i haven’t felt sunlight in thousands of years. i may despise your mother but… oh, to see light…”

You hadn’t realized how far you’d gotten yourself from the bars, almost at the opposite wall to Sans’. You hd no desire to come close to this prison of doom but- you do.

You walk halfway towards the bars.

“closer, closer…”

You walk a little bit forwards.

“please, sunlight… i haven’t seen the light in so long. i want to see your brilliance…”

You’ve come as close as you could, just in front of the bars. The closer you got to the bars, the sharper the shadows looked. A chill fell over you- it felt like his prison was a dark hole that threatened to suck you in.

He smile was too wide-

A flash of movement, a roar. He was right in your face, four sets of claws outstretched before you, so close to your light you could see every detail in his horrifying expression, his bared fangs, the wild look in his eyes.

You screamed louder than you’ve ever screamed, your light flashing, staggering backwards. The chains shone- screeching and straining against the god- he falls short of touching you, collapsing to the ground.

“AHAHAHAHAH!” The moon god laughs cruelly, the sound the embodiment of evil. It’s depth shook the entire building- no, it was shaking the entire moon.

You’re on the floor, gasping greedily, looking like a fish that had just been unceremoniously dumped on land, your divine soul threatening to fly out of your chest. Your light flickers as you get dimmer than before, the darkness around Sans threatening to devour you.

You were about to cry.

Sans’ violent laughs started to quiet, eventually shifting into a satisfied sigh. This close, you could see him in more detail- his robe was gray, with the same symbol on his temple pinning it on his chest. You could see how your light flickered over his bones, his face.

He had four arms, two of which had been hidden under his robe. Unchained, they reached beyond the bars just shy of touching you.

“aw…. you’re adorable.” Sans growls. You watch in horror as a glowing silver tongue slithers out of his mouth, licking his fangs. He’s staring at you intently, a predator excited to see prey. “had you not stumble i would’ve had you against these bars…”

You look at his second set of hands. His claws reach out for you and you shuffle back, Sans following with another low laugh. It felt like those chains weren’t going to hold against him, that they were going to shatter any second now. That he’d bend the bars apart and bite you.

“oh…. lighten up, starlight.” He chuckles, as if he hadn’t just scared you half to death. His sockets crinkled, eyelights shining with a dark ‘pupil’ in the middle. They shifted ever so slightly over you.

“you must know that it’s so boring here, all alone in this pitiful cell,” He groans, throwing his head back in dismay, “i’ve been desperate to have someone to play with… and you look like a sweet little treat.”

You use your scarf to cover yourself more, becoming more and more convinced that maybe the moon god actually wants to eat you from the way he’s staring.

“i’m impressed… you haven’t run away,” He props his head up with one of his unchained hands. “why haven’t you?”

It was a genuine question. You looked at his room from top to bottom.

“There’s bars… and chains.” You say, trying to convince yourself that you were perfectly safe here.

“hm…” his other unchained hand was tapping the floor as he thought for a moment. “are you sure they’ll hold?”

“...” You weren’t convinced.

“heh… smart girl.”

His second set of arms moved again, reaching for the bars-

Ok. It was time to leave, right now.

“Th-thank you for your time, Moon god Sans,” you say hastily, standing up and dusting yourself off. “It’s been an honor to meet you. I see you are much more powerful than you already seemed in the stories. I must go home now, so… goodbye.”

You ran your mouth. Usually you’d leave a god with a bow or at most a word of praise. But that was when you were there with your sisters and your mother, with a god that didn’t have such a terrifying reputation.

You bowed as lowly as you could, pulling your scarves to the side. You didn’t want to look at him, disguised as looking at the floor. You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, so you turned around on your heel towards the stairs-

“wait.”

Oh mother’s storm.

“please, starlight… won’t you come back? i’m so lonely…”

You looked behind you. He was as close as he could be to the bars, in sitting position like when he was against the wall. His eyes shone brilliantly. This… powerful, dak god… was pleading to you.

You don’t know how to feel about it. You look back at him sparingly, biting your lip.

“... if you do…” Sans says after you’re silent for a little longer, “could you… bring me some snacks?”

That makes you go huh? softly.

“something sweet preferably. like a cake.”

You’re on the fence of responding. You couldn’t just say ‘I never want to come back here because I think I’d die of fright first before I could humor you.’

“I… I’ll think about it.” is what you instead settled on.

Finally, you allowed yourself to climb up the stairs, starting to run as soon as you’re out of his eyesight, flying as fast as you could home.

…

…

…

“... my. what a delicious little thing…”

[italiansteebie]

Love on Screen

Welcome to my Streamer au :-) Episode One, also on ao3 (Preferred format)

Steve sighed as he opened his laptop, clicking on the ‘Youtube’ icon and pulling up his channel. He likes his job, really he does. But so many people do the same thing that he’s honestly running out of ideas. Luckily, his subscribers seem to enjoy the weird ass shit he’s been putting out lately. In the last one, he’d made a bed out of cheese for his cat, the only issue was, was that she wanted to eat it, and if you don’t know, cat’s are lactose intolerant, so what started as a stupid video turned into him vlogging how to clean cat diarrhea of a carpet.

His subscribers thought it was hilarious, paying no mind to his discomfort, moreso worrying about piggy, his cat, and how her tummy was doing. She’s fine. Just a little dramatic. So with a lack of ideas, he goes lives. “Hey. How’s it going, chat? Look, I really need some new ideas because honestly, I’m bombing here.” And like always the chat blew up with responses, ‘call robin!’ and Steve snorted, “call Robin? Fine?” He picked up his phone, tapping Robin’s contact and waiting for it to ring.

“What?”

“That’s real nice, Rob. What a way to answer your best friend.”

“You aren’t my best friend, Nancy is.”

Steve scoffs, “Whatever, say hi to chat!”

“Seriously? This is the content y’all like? God, give him good ones, like getting a life.”

“I have a life, okay? Just because I don’t-”

“Your life consists of bugging me and Nancy, now get off live and think of some real idea’s, Steve!” Her tone was accusatory and Steve didn’t have a chance to answer before she hung up on him. He sighed, looking into the webcam, “Well. You heard her. I’ll talk to you guys later. Bye chat!” He ended the live and shut his laptop with a huff. He pondered for a moment, before deciding to scroll, what better way to come up with ideas than to scan and see what’s trending, right? 

He knows it’s a lazy tactic but, hey. He’s been doing this for years, there’s only so many ideas a brain could hatch. Maybe he could play a new game? Nah, he’s played all the good ones. Maybe he could play a really bad one just for giggles, maybe that’d be fun? It’s not fair! Robin and Nancy use their lives as content! Steve’s life was boring! Maybe it was worth a try, and so, a dumb little morning vlog was in the works.  

-

And okay, so it turns out maybe his subscribers are somewhat interested in his life. How was he supposed to know? He wakes up, answers emails, makes breakfast, works out, and that’s it! It wasn’t anything special. He felt… Boring. 

And yeah, the video did well but he still felt like he fell flat. He was supposed to be funny! So in his fit of doubt, he decides to scroll a little bit. (A bit of mindless scrolling didn't hurt anyone, right?) Wrong, Steve. It hurt a lot of people. But either way, in his attempt to bury his feelings he came across a video titled “Freak Rage Quits and Then Cries,” and Steve was a little apprehensive. He doesn’t really do the bullying, mean girl content, well, at least not like he used to. (He was a different person then). But he clicked on it anyways, and holy shit. He was funny. And really hot. 

And soon enough, Steve fell down a rabbit hole. He couldn’t get enough of this guy, he was cute, and charming, and somehow chaotic in a way that made Steve weak in the knees. (And look, the liking guys thing was relatively new, but the whole ‘attracted to chaos thing’ came out of left field). Well, if he’s being honest, it really didn’t. When he thought he had a crush on Robin it was her chaotic energy that really got to him, which was surprising seeing as his ex before her was very much the opposite. But as it turns out, chaos is like this guys whole brand. Eddie. That’s his name by the way, goes by corrodededdie on twitch, which honestly, fit him perfectly, 

Steve didn’t get the guys subscribing count at first, over 1.5 million (which is almost as many as Steve), but he gets it now. He doesn’t understand how someone could make him fall in love, over video. It was a bit ridiculous, really. Luckily for him, corrodededdie struck the inspiration bucket and Steve fell asleep with some new concepts floating around in his head. And yeah, maybe they were a bit more chaotic than what he usually did but… Oh well. Blame it on his new muse.

—

Eddie grinned as he waved goodbye to the stream, he’d just finished a 12 hour long long haul that he did on a dare because some troll in the chat said he wouldn’t be able to do it. And well, Eddie runs off spite, so of course he made sure to do it, and do it right. 

So here he was, 12 hours later, absolutely exhausted. He’d started the stream at a nice time of 6pm. That meant he’d have to stay streaming and making actual content, not just farting around on his phone, for 12 hours. It seemed easy enough. 

It wasn’t.

Right around the eight hour mark he started to get pretty restless. He’d already played all the games he had within his reach like, twice, and he was honestly really sick of talking about himself, so he made the courageous decision to ask the chat for suggestions on what he should do. (That was especially dangerous since at the time he was doing it, which was 2 am, was the time his especially creepy subscribers like to join and torment him by suggesting really gross stuff. And not like eating dog food gross). But luckily someone in the chat, named ‘dustybun04’ came through for him, suggesting a channel by the title of ‘Steve goes to Hell’ and well. Needless to say, it wasn’t what Eddie was expecting with a name like that. 

It was mainly this guy doing different hair techniques and making weird shit for his cat. He has to be honest, ‘dustybun04’ really disappointed him. He was under the complete impression that this guy was going to be some metal badass that played COD and killed zombies. But… It wasn’t. “Oh come on, dustybun. This guy?” And the chat lit up.

Dustybun04: watch the one where he makes a chees bed for his cat it made me laugh so hard i threw up.

And that caught Eddie’s attention. So there he was, at 2 am, pseudo stalking this guys channel looking for a very specific video. And he makes sure he’s mic'd up so that the stream could catch his candid reaction. “Mr. Piggyyyy, look at what mommy made you,” and Eddie had to pause the video. The guy called himself ‘Mommy’? Oh god, who was this guy? He snorts, looking at the camera like he’s on ‘The Office’ before turning the video back on. And as much as he hates to admit it, he was crying with laughter by the end of the video. 

And so the 12 hour long stream turned into him doing a deepdive review on ‘Steve goes to Hell.’ And he wasn’t disappointed. He could tell that his viewers were ready to move on to something else, but Eddie couldn’t help it. He was just… Enamored with the guy. Eventually though, around the 11 hour mark, Steve ran out of content for Eddie to watch. So he reluctantly decided to bother his best, dear, friend, Nancy. She ran a channel with her girlfriend and they were so disgustingly cute that it almost made Eddie want to barf. He picked up his phone and dialed Nancy, waiting with a mischievous smile on his face. “Eddie? It’s… 5 am, why are you calling me?”

“Say hi to chat!” He cheered, far too loud and excited for the early hour.

“Ugh, Eddie. You’re the worst.”

“You love me, Wheeler.”

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Oh shit. Did he wake up Robin? “It’s just Eddie baby, go back to sleep. You woke up Robin you fucking asshole. I’m going to kill you the next time I see you.” Yep. 

She hung up on him with a huff, “Isn’t she a charmer, folks? Okay…. Let’s see.” Eddie muttered to himself, scrolling mindlessly, looking for something to get him through the last 30 minutes. “Okay… Thirty minute stretch guys. What should we do?” And then it happened. ‘Steve goes to Hell has uploaded a new video.’ “Awh, shit guys. Steve goes to Hell has another video,” He dragged out the ‘o’ far too excited for a channel he just found of a guy he knows virtually nothing about. “Wake up with me? Ew. God, he’s so cheesy. Let’s watch” And it turns out it was actually pretty cute. 

And yup. There it is. Eddie has a new crush on a guy. A guy who happens to look super hot when he wakes up and by definition out of Eddie’s league. He sits and watches silently, enraptured with the way this guy lives his life, waking up so god damned early. As the video comes to an end, so does the 12 hour stream. “Well, shit guys. We did it. Actually, I did it. You guys did nothing. Anyways. It’s been fun. wheeliemike, suck my dick, and fuck you for saying I couldn’t do this. Alright. Thanks for chilling with me!” 

And that brings us up to speed. Eddie slumped back into his gaming chair, breathing out deeply. “Shit. I am never doing that again.” He slid out of his chair and trudged over to his bed, flopping down onto it and groaning loudly. He was just about to succumb to the sweet release of sleep when his phone chimed. ‘Steve goes to hell just subscribed to your channel.’ And oh fuck. Oh fuck, was he watching? Shit. Well. His heart was beating too fast to go to sleep now, may as well instagram stalk the guy. Like all normal people do when they develop a new crush.

[laismoura-art]

I love the Guaraná plant!!! It's so weird and somewhat freaky!! It doesn't even look real! I want one so bad! 😂 You don't only have amazing myths, you also have an amazing fauna!

You have a really cool take on Delia's godhood, especially her rise towards it. It's a good callback to her OG status as a normal edenian to her new one as a goddess.

I wonder if the hordes of darkness she and the other sorceresses had to face were a result of Shinnok somehow. I mean, he is the Elder God of death, darkness and corruption after all.

This got me wondering about your god hierarchy because from what I get, in your AU there are only gods, not elder gods. So does Shinnok exist? Is he still a god and Cetrion's brother? IIRC, his amulet appears in MK1 but only because it was brought from another timeline and I wonder what Liu Kang did to Shinnok (was it said???) because you can't just erase death y'know?? 😭

Hi Rasta! Thanks for the ask!!💕

YEEEES! Guaraná is a true national GEM!💚

And we gotta love a hard-core backstory, like, "grown out of a dead child's eyes and watered with mourning tears??" Who gave this little plant the right to be this edgy??😂😂

If you're interested in a taste, Guaraná makes a delicious soda! (You can find it in France (I searched))

And if you're also interested in our folklore, I highly recommend the series "Invisible City" on Netflix! It, unfortunately, only had two seasons but it's great to get to know some of our myths!

My absolute favourite character is Inês, the Cuca! Her myth comes from this lullaby:

"Sleep little baby, that the Cuca is coming to get you. Father went to the fields and mom left for work. Bogeyman, get off the roof, let the little baby sleep soundly."🎶

She's also a powerful witch with an alligator's face! Though in the series, she has a regular face and a butterfly motif rather than an alligator's. But the most important is: She is a QUEEN!

She steals the show and will steal your heart! 👑

Alessandra Negrini rocked in this role!💕💕💕

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ok, back to Delia!

I was so hoping the Brazilian folklore inspired origin would catch your eye and I'm so glad it did! 💚💛 I highly appreciate you reading through my walls of texts and finding amusement in them!

In general I'm glad you liked the result!!🥹❤️

And now, regarding the Gods/Elder Gods:

There are two types of gods: The ones who are born Gods, such as Argus and Cetrion. And the ones who ascended into Godhood, such as Delia and Asgaarth!

Godly-borns spawn into existence according to their realms necessities. Outworld lived in darkness, so the God of Light and Fire was born and Earthrealm needed to bear life, so the Goddess of Life, Light and Virtue was born!

Meanwhile Ascended Gods were once mortal beings who sacrificed themselves for their people and were gifted Godhood. Their godly blessings allow them to offer their people what they need the most to survive and prosper.

Delia's people needed a more constant light and protection from the hordes of darkness, so she was gifted the sun and through it, she helped her people.

In life, Asgaarth was the advisor of the First Edenian Queen, Mimh (who's soul nowadays rests in the oldest tree of the Living Forest), he ascended after dying protecting a group of wanderers. He became the God of Wind and Patron of Travellers and graced the wanderers, who had accepted him as one of their own and also pleaded the gods to take him, with powerful wings (and other bird features) that would allow them to travel far and safe!

It is an unspoken rule that Ascended Gods have a closer relationship with the mortals and get to handle their affairs more often. Godly-borns tend to keep a safe distance as they lack a certain empathy only mortals possess.

The only exception is Cetrion, who tried to be a more present Goddess and directly serve her Realms residents.

I've been pondering for a while on how much of the previous timeline and Kronika Cetrion remembers, and through her redesign I think I got my answers! She remembers everything! And she's doing her hardest to go against her mother's desings for her (like I said, it's her rebellious phase, lol)

Which is why she decided to stay closer to the Ascended Gods instead, to learns from them and ultimately grow closer to the mortals under her protection. Acting as such granted her the trust and devotion of the Shirai family and all the women who would become the Order of Cetrion!

Liu Kang is an Ascended God but he pretends to be a Godly-born, because he doesn't want risk anyone finding out about his past as Time Keeper. Cetrion knows, obviously, but she keeps secret. She also knows about Geras still being around and helping but both avoid each other cause they aren't yet ready to talk about their past with Kronika.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Gods may be called "Elder Gods" but not because they rank above other Gods, but because they are literally older, lol! It's the same as calling an elder "sir/mr/mrs" it's just a formality (though when Cetrion calls Argus that, she means it in a derogatory way, lmao)

No God, Ascended or Godly-born, is above other. They are all equals!

Regarding on whether Shinnok is alive or not:

I'm not sure about canon, Liu said Shinnok’s Amulet "wasn't supposed to exist" and it could imply either that Shinnok specifically doesn't exist (and maybe there's a new God of Death) or that he hasn't turned evil yet!

Personally I like both ideas and could be open to either! But my main idea is that Shinnok himself doesn't exist as a deity but parts of his being are still present and manifesting in other ways, such as the hordes of darkness! (Because indeed, ou can't just erase death)

Plus, I have an old theory that the New Era also suffers with Canon Events 🎸 and as much as he tries, Liu can't just erase certain things and they end up manifesting in other ways (the Tarkatans, the Shirai Ryu vs the Lin Kuei, Hanzo and Takeda as Shirai Ryu, Tomas as a Lin Kuei, etc, etc) some things are just inevitable and they will happen one way or another, you know?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Okay, that's what I have for now! Hope it answers your questions (and raise some more cause I love to talk about this AU) and more importantly, hope you enjoy the reading!💕

@mikka-minns @thedragonholder @orbitinytheworld @madamealtruist You girls would like some godly lore?👀

[rems-writing]

Is Mingi the God of Death?

》 Pairing: mortal!Mingi x former Moon Knight!reader

》 AU: Marvel au

》 Wordcount: 3,198 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

The happiest of birthdays to my one and only soulmate. Song Mingi 🥰🥰🥰 ilysm. Thank you for entering my life as my ult. You have changed me for the better 🩷🤍🖤

Lately, Mingi has been having weird nightmares. It ranged from strange ceremonies that involved welcome people into a golden field filled with thin plants to people bowing down before him as they offer things like food, wine

Sacrifices 

Sometimes, the so-called sacrificial offerings would be struggling to break free from these followers. Other times, the sacrificial offerings would cut out their own hearts and place it on a scale. Mingi would find himself judging those people and either send them to that strange field or the sand dunes, where people turn into sand statues and remain that way for eternity. 

The nightmares progressively got worse as months passed. It was bad enough that Mingi saw people cut out their own hearts and seemingly plead to him for mercy. It got worse from there. 

His previous nightmare involved him embalming someone and wrapping them up like a mummy before encasing them in a coffin. He almost hurled at the sight of the different organs that were bloodied and placed in cracked and faded urns. He didn’t know how it escalated into that since his nightmare started off as him taking care of a person like he was a nurse. He found himself speaking gently to this person as he took care of their wounds.

It was ironic since the person was actually dead.

He didn’t know how to explain all of this to a therapist he was seeing. He never sought out a therapist before, but due to the increasing number of nightmares he had, he was left with no choice but to talk with a professional about it. What made things worse was that he felt guilty for seeing someone to talk about this with rather than his significant other. 

He didn’t want to burden his beloved after seeing you struggle with trying to reign in Sekhmet. 

He knew how much you despised being the avatar for Khonshu, the Egyptian god of justice and the moon. He wanted to make sure that you live a carefree life without having to worry about the old bird popping up out of nowhere.

Which is why he kept this to himself. 

He knew it was wrong to keep secrets, especially since he might get his ass beat by your twin brother. Marc was someone he didn’t want to mess with, especially with his dangerous alter. 

Jake Lockley

In the few times Mingi encountered Jake, he was almost scared away by him. Due to his love for you and his support from both Steven and Marc, he was able to persevere through Jake’s ‘protective’ antics and get him on the young man’s side. 

It also took some convincing from you as well since Mingi would often see (and try not to snicker at) you hit Jake with a slipper. 

My love <3: Hey! Marc is currently over rn and he demands coffee. 

Mingi was currently wrapping up his latest session with his therapist. As he shook his therapist’s hand, he couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching him from afar. Deciding to brush it off for now, he let go and bid his therapist goodbye before leaving to go home. After a harrowing day at work, he just wanted to snuggle up against you and listen to you ramble about normal life. Speaking of which, you messaged him about something. 

Mingles: lol are you sure it’s Marc and not Steven or Jake?

My love: Steven only drinks tea while Jake prefers ‘the blood of his enemies’ or whatever tf he meant

Mingles: so basically… a cup of milk coffee

My love <3: lol pretty much :P

Mingles: LMAO XD

Mingles: ok bet. I’ll stop by the cafe near our flat and I can get Marc his coffee. Do you want anything?

My love <3: Just your love and affection

My love <3: and maybe an apple fritter. I’m obsessed with those lately. Blame Layla lol

Mingles: Now see if I do that, Marc might beat my ass lol

My love <3: I’ll protect you. I have the power of the slipper! XD

Mingles: You’re so fucking cute. Ok I’ll get those rn. Ily

My love <3: ilyt

Mingi looked up and flinched when he saw the barista looking lifeless. She had white blurred eyes, sunken cheekbones, a jaw that was hanging on for dear life, and a body that was basically a skeleton if you didn’t see the paper-thin skin attached to the bones. He blinked and rubbed his eyes before looking at the barista once again. He was relieved when he saw a healthy-looking woman in lieu of the dead version of herself patiently waiting for him to pay. 

Mingi sighed dreamily as he put away his phone and walked to the cafe. There was no line and there weren’t a lot of people inside, so he was able to get the items quickly. As he took out his wallet, he casually asked how much he owed. He was not prepared for the answer given to him.

“I will offer you my soul.”

“Sorry. I must’ve been distracted. Been thinking about home and work and stuff.” Mingi sheepishly explained, to which the woman waved him off politely. 

“No worries. It’s totally fine. Anyways, $10 is your total.” 

Mingi nodded and pulled out a $20 bill. “You can keep the change. Have a good day.” He said quickly and politely before he gathered his things and walked out of the cafe. With your apple fritter and Marc’s coffee in tow, he walked briskly back to his flat, barely missing the way that some citizens looked with the same lifeless look in their eyes. As he patiently waited for the crosswalk sign to change, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and almost dropped the items in his hand when he saw a dead man looking at him. His head was bent at an unnatural angle, and he spoke in a hollow voice. 

“You left us. You left your true home to be amongst the humans. You are a selfish god. You want to be human so bad? Then you will die like a human!” 

Mingi jumped out of the way as the dead man launched himself at the taller man, only to crumble into pieces when he crashed to the floor. Panic consumed Mingi and he ran for his life when the crosswalk sign changed. He dared to look back. 

He wished he hadn’t. 

A wave of mummified humans came barreling at him with lightning speed, all speaking in an ancient tongue that he somehow understood. The panic turned into fear when he felt someone’s bony fingers brush up against his ankle in an attempt to trip him and drag him away. Temporary relief washed over him when he saw a familiar building a few feet away from him. Picking up speed, he sprinted towards the entrance of the building’s lobby and inserted himself into the closest vacant elevator. He pressed the ‘close doors’ button rapidly as his peripheral vision caught onto the mummies scrambling over one another to get into the elevator. He breathed out a heavy sigh of relief as the doors closed in time and it started going up to his floor. Mingi slid down the wall and exhaled loudly as he patiently yet anxiously waited until it stopped. 

“Mingi.”

An eerie whisper of his name sounded in the air and Mingi flinched at the sound. He slowly got up and looked around to see who called him. As far as he knew, he was the only one in the elevator. 

“Mingi.”

The whisper grew louder and Mingi was able to detect a voice. It sounded soft and gentle, yet he knew better than to trust that easily. The lights in the elevator flickered and he looked around anxiously. It didn’t help that there were mirrors surrounding him as well. 

“Over here.”

Mingi looked to his left and his face paled. He was somehow expecting a dead version of himself to be looking at him through his reflection. 

He was not expecting an entirely different man to look back at him. 

As Mingi walked closer to the mirror, he set his things down and looked at his reflection. Whenever he raised his hand, the man would as well. Whenever he bent his head, the man would as well. It went on for a while until Mingi looked up and almost let out a scream. 

The man’s head had an outline of a jackal surrounding him. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” Mingi screamed. 

The man chuckled quietly as he stepped out of the mirror and stood before him. He was dressed similarly to Mingi, but it looked like he went through hell and back. His white dress shirt was torn at the bottom so his abs and slim waist were on display. His black dress pants had chains dangling from the belt loops, his black dress shoes were caked in sand and blood, and his crooked fingers were covered by black fingerless gloves that reached to his elbows, leaving his forearms to be covered as well. His black tie hung loose around his neck and his silver hair was more of a dark and ashen gray. His hair covered his eyes slightly, yet Mingi was able to see through them. The man reached out and grabbed his hand, holding it tightly as he stared him down. 

“I am you.” 

---------------------------------------------------

“Mingi, wake the fuck up!” 

Mingi heard your worried voice loud and clear, and he sat up straight on the couch, looking around rapidly before settling his eyes on you. Standing beside you were Layla and Marc. Layla looked worried as well while Marc was stoic and had his arms crossed. 

But he too was worried. 

“W-What happened?” Mingi asked hoarsely. His voice was lost due to the scream he let out earlier after that encounter with that strange man. 

“We got a call from the landlord saying that you passed out as you tried to exit the elevator once you reached our floor. I practically sprinted out of our flat as soon as she said that. Mingi, something is going on with you! You’ve been looking paler every day and you’re always so fidgety. Not to mention that you also wake up in a cold sweat and breathe heavily. Even in the darkness of our room, I can see you clutch your chest. Please… talk to me. Talk to us!”

Mingi couldn’t take it anymore. He broke down crying in your arms and told you everything. From the nightmares to the therapy sessions, he vented on and on. While you were consoling him, Marc and Layla shared a knowing look. Yet they stayed quiet as they observed you cradle his face in your hands and kiss his forehead gently. 

“It’s ok, Mingi. It’ll be ok. We will do our best to help.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be involved with the gods again. If that even is the case.”

“You’ve helped me cope with adapting to our new lifestyle. And for that, I thank you every day for coming into my life. Let me repay you for all you’ve done.” 

Mingi nodded shyly and you smiled before looking up at Layla and Marc. 

A few hours later, you and Layla were discussing amongst yourselves the predicament that Mingi was in while he was in your room with Steven, who fronted after hearing about the nightmares. 

“So you’ve had nightmares that involved dead people, mummification, and the Field of Reeds. Am I correct, lad?”

“Yeah pretty much. And as I said to Y/N, it felt like my nightmares were coming to life. I saw a barista looking lifeless and say that they’ll offer me their soul while another random man called me a selfish god and tried to attack me. Lastly, a huge group of mummified people came running at me.”

“Right… but then what about the encounter you had with that man? He wasn’t dead right?”

“No. He looked more human. He wore a tattered version of the clothes I’m wearing right now yet I know for a fact that he was an entirely different person than me.” 

“Here. Let me sketch him as you describe him.” 

Mingi then proceeded to describe what the man in the mirror looked like to the best of his ability. He probably messed up on a few details since he was gripped with fear as he saw him. Steven finally finished up his sketch and a worried look was on his face as he looked at it some more before he turned the sketch pad around. 

“Is this who you saw?” 

Mingi’s face paled once more as he saw the sketch. 

“Yeah… that’s him.” 

“Oh bollocks. Lad, I think you might have encountered the Egyptian god of the dead himself.”

“Osiris?”

“No… Anubis.”

---------------------------------------------------

Mingi found himself on a plane to Cairo. He was nervous as hell and couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. You placed a hand on his knee and looked at him with reassurance. “It’ll be ok, Mingi. We’ll see what he wants, and he’ll leave you alone after that. He’ll listen to me.” 

Mingi nodded rapidly as he listened to your confident words. When they landed, they quickly got off the plane, grabbed their bags, and booked it to the hotel they were staying at. Once they were checked in and settled down, they immediately headed towards the pyramids. 

You and Marc were once again back inside the temple of the Ennead. They hadn’t been back here since they trapped Ammit inside Arthur Harrow’s body. As much as you wanted to escape so badly, you knew that if you didn't do this, Mingi’s nightmares would never end. 

“So I just… lay here?” Mingi asked as he pointed to a stone table. You nodded and helped him lay down. Due to his height and big body chock full of muscle, it was a struggle at first. Finally, he was able to lay down properly. His long legs dangled off the table and he cringed when he felt a strange liquid be painted on his forehead. 

“This is just us preparing you for the ceremony. We need to put the symbol of Anubis on you so we can properly communicate with him. Don’t sweat it.” Marc explained and Mingi nodded. Once the preparations were complete, the chants started. 

The more the three of them recited the incantations, the more Mingi felt physically uncomfortable. He was sweating a lot, he clutched his stomach, and he let out painful screams. The screams soon turned into growls and his back achingly arched off the table as black and gold mist escaped his mouth. The mist soon took shape into an all too familiar figure. The figure was hunched over and stood up slowly as the mist dissipated. His eyes glowed brightly before settling back to brown. 

Mingi scrambled off the table as he stood behind Y/N while the man, clad in a black tank top and blue jeans, brushed off his shoulders and looked around. His wavy black hair dangled in front of his eyes.

“Ah. It seems I’m back in this dreadful place.”

His voice, albeit soft, held power. He settled his eyes on Marc and Layla before smiling gently at them. “It’s so good to see you two. How has life been for you guys?”

“It’s been… alright.”

The man nodded before turning to you. His eyes were filled with love and sadness as he walked towards you. He reached out and gently held your face in his hand. Mingi wanted to step in and tell him to fuck off, but for some reason, he knew this needed to happen so he just stood there and watched. 

“My love… I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Seonghwa.” 

‘So that’s Anubis’s human name.’ Mingi thought to himself as he observed the exchange between you and Seonghwa. 

“I hope Mingi is making you happy. Otherwise, my departure from the Duat would have been in vain.” 

“Wait… you left? Why?”

A quiet sigh escaped Seonghwa’s plush lips as he explained everything to you, Marc, Layla, and Mingi. 

“I am a selfish god. I couldn’t bear to be without you. So I left behind everything I once was and entered the mortal realm in a new body. Hence, how Mingi came about.” 

It all made sense now. 

Mingi wasn’t having nightmares.

He was experiencing his past life. 

“Mingi, I am so sorry that you had to go through those visions. I never meant to make you and Y/N suffer. I didn’t realize the consequences of leaving the Duat until they came to fruition. Please forgive me.”

Mingi couldn’t help but feel bad for the past version of himself. All Seonghwa ever wanted was to be with you, no matter the conditions. Mingi gave a small grin to the ancient god and patted his shoulder. 

“It’s ok. I understand. I honestly would’ve done the same thing if I was in your position.”

Seonghwa smiled gratefully and brought the mortal into a hug. Your heart soared at the sight of your past lover and current lover embracing each other like family. As Seonghwa let Mingi go, they connected their foreheads together. Seonghwa placed a delicate hand over Mingi’s broad chest so he could feel the man’s heart under his palm. 

“I will try my best to make sure you guys will not suffer anymore. In return, I simply ask that you keep loving Y/N in the same way that you always have since the first day you two have met.”

“You can count on me, Anubis.”

Seonghwa nodded gratefully and turned to you before pulling into one last hug.

“Until we meet again, my love…”

Seonghwa let go of you and waved goodbye to Marc and Layla before he disappeared in the same black and gold mist. His ghostly silhouette floated around the temple before coming down upon Mingi, who groaned painfully as both of their presences combined. A light shone brightly around the young man momentarily before it dimmed. The three of you uncovered your eyes. Layla gasped, Marc had a half smile on his face, and you were practically drooling at Mingi’s new look. 

Instead of long silver hair, he had black hair swept back to reveal an undercut and his eyebrows were no longer bleached. He wore a black tank top, light blue jeans, and black combat boots. He had sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose and one of his arms revealed a tattoo of Seonghwa’s symbol. 

It was a significant mark of Mingi’s past life as Anubis. 

He smirked as he saw you shamelessly checking him out. He walked over to you and lifted you up in his arms before carrying you bridal style. 

“Come on, babe. The night’s still young. The four of us should go on a double date.”

You simply giggled like a schoolgirl as you admired the confidence Mingi had. You two walked out of the temple while Layla quietly laughed to herself and Marc sighed heavily. 

“Oy vey.” Jake said to himself in Marc’s head. 

[daechwitatamic]

II. My Devotion's Been an Ocean || KNJ

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo @/casuallyimagining and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

You and Namjoon get used to living together.

Section Warnings: language, drinking, pov switch to Namjoon at the end

WC: 7k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Monday August 31

Monday passes quickly, the biggest event being that your wifi finally gets installed. You don’t see Namjoon all day - his room is empty when you get out of bed. You spend most of your day lazing around in sweatpants, enjoying having high-speed internet at your fingertips again.

Although there aren’t classes due to the federal holiday, the cafeteria on campus is open since the administration knew most students would have moved in over the weekend. You could walk there - your apartment to the student center is a shorter walk than the student center to your furthest class - but Taehyung offers to drive you. Laziness, and a few minutes of time alone in his car, win over practicality. 

Once you’ve made your plates and commandeered a small table near the back of the caf, Taehyung asks you, “So, how’s roomie life?”

You shrug. “Nothing to tell. He hasn’t even been home today. But I think it’ll be fine. I have a feeling we’ll just each… do our own thing.”

Taehyung nods. “That’s better than big drama. Do you remember Jungkook’s roommate last year?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, god, the toilet paper hoarder.” 

Jungkook’s university-assigned roommate had indeed hoarded every extra roll of toilet paper in a secret location, meaning that if a roll ever got used up by anyone who wasn’t him, they could never find the new rolls to put out, even if they’d bought the replacements. Not only had Jungkook had to buy and then hide his own replacements, you and Taehyung had gone over and tried to help him search around for the hoard while his roommate was out, to no luck. 

Taehyung snorts into his plate. “Man, that kid was weird. JayKay’s so lucky we had room for him this year.” 

“I haven’t seen the place yet,” you point out. “Any major decor changes?”

Taehyung laughs again. “Just Jungkook’s punching bag. I swear, Jimin’s gonna break his wrist playing around with it.”

“Unlike you and your perfect form.” You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says defensively, pointing a finger at you. “When I’m goofing around, I don’t hit it hard enough to hurt myself.”

When you’re done eating, you walk back to Taehyung’s car. It takes literal minutes to get back to your brick building, and he idles at the curb.

“You want to hang out for a while?” you ask, hopeful. “We got the wifi installed today, we could watch a show?”

“Can’t,” he says apologetically. “I have plans with someone later.”

Plans with someone. That was Taehyung-speak for a date, or maybe “date” was the wrong word. Regardless, it meant he was seeing a girl later, getting something from her that he wasn’t getting from you.

“Ah,” you say. “Use protection.” You unbuckle as he scrunches his face at you.

“Don’t be gross,” he grouses. 

“You know I have no choice,” you tell him solemnly as you climb out of the car. You pause, resting your head on the top of the doorframe, peering at him. “Good luck in class tomorrow. Text me if you want to eat or anything.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding, already thinking ahead to his schedule. “Lunch around one?”

“I’ll text you, I have to go look at my schedule,” you admit. You shut the door and wave goodbye, heading inside. You don’t say love you in goodbye; you never do when you know he’s leaving your company for another girl’s. As if, with this one silly little rule in your own brain, you can punish him for it, when in reality there’s no way he even notices. 

Namjoon still isn’t home, so the apartment is silent and empty. You decide to devote your evening to prepping - both physically and emotionally - to start class tomorrow. You check your schedule, organize your books, make sure your laptop is charging. You get in bed early just out of sheer boredom. Around eleven pm as you’re scrolling around mindlessly on your phone, you finally hear keys in the lock, the thump as the door shuts again, Namjoon’s footsteps approach his own bedroom. You wonder absently where he was for fourteen hours. 

It occurs to you that you know nothing about his personal life beyond that he’s a grad student. You don’t even know his concentration of study. 

You wonder if you should go out to say hi, maybe under the pretense of getting a drink. Then you hear the sound of his door shut, and minutes later the boiler kicks on as his shower demands hot water. So, you stay put, turning out your light and setting your alarm for morning.

Friday September 4th

Your classes go well. The first week is always the professors going through the syllabus and outlining their expectations, anyway. Today, your morning class seems like it will be interesting, but tough; you’ve had this professor before and she’s a notoriously hard grader. You’d done okay with her the year before, though. Your second class, after lunch, is better. It’s a poetry course, which is your concentration, and you’ve had this professor - Professor Jemisen - twice already. He’s pretty laid-back, an easy grader, but you always find his lecture topics and assigned readings to be really interesting. 

He also gives homework on the first week, which most of your professors don’t: an assigned reading and reflection for the first poet on the syllabus, plus a prompt to write your own, pulling inspiration from that poet’s choices in style, rhyme scheme, and use of imagery. You’ve already got an idea as you walk out of class and head in the direction of your new building - this particular poet used a lot of nautical imagery, ships and captains, and the ocean itself was always very nearly a character of its own. 

You think as you walk, inspired by the lecture fresh in your head, toying with some ocean imagery and how you could stitch it into a turn of phrase. When you reach your building and sling off your backpack to hunt for your keys, you decide to stay on the steps for a minute. The sun is shining but it’s breezy, and it’s really pleasant. You pull out a notebook and some paper and start to draft what you might turn in.

Pulling pulling pulling, each 

cresting wave a daunting hill.

Who would try to fight the tide,

the dark, the depth, the chill?

My devotion’s been an ocean.

I fear it always will.

One thing that the deep sea is:

it’s never still.

You frown at it, pen between your teeth. You like the idea of the shorter final line, but the flow is off. You’re still considering this - as well as already thinking about how you’ll need at least one but probably two more short pieces like this for the assignment - when someone stops in front of you, their silhouette blocking the sun and casting you in a sudden shadow.

“You locked out?” a deep voice asks.

You look up (and up, and up) to find Namjoon peering at you, concern on his face.

“Oh,” you say stupidly. For some reason, you feel embarrassed, like you’ve been caught doing something silly, as if doing homework outside during nice weather was something strange and secret, and not completely normal. “I was working on an assignment. The sun - it was nice out here. I’m not locked out.”

“Gotcha,” he says easily, fishing in his pockets for his own keys. You struggle to stand, knees a little achy after using them as a table for the last half hour or so, closing up your notebook. You might as well go inside, now. You aren’t going to write anymore at this point, anyway.

You follow Namjoon upstairs, trying to find a good distance to put between you: you don’t want to be right on his heels, nor do you want him to have to hold the door for you for an awkward amount of time if you’re too far back. 

Inside the apartment, Namjoon drops his keys on the counter and heads for his bedroom door. Over his shoulder, he calls, “Have a good night.”

A good night? The sun isn’t even setting yet. 

But, it seems Namjoon means what he says. He disappears into his room, leaving his door open just about three inches, and he doesn’t come out again for the rest of the afternoon.

You stay in the living room through the afternoon, preferring to do Professor Jemisen’s poetry reading by the large, living room windows. You can hear Namjoon doing whatever in his room - the clacking of keys for minutes at a time, bumps and clacks as his wheeled desk chair moves and taps the table as he shifts in it, occasionally his footsteps as he crosses the room towards his attached bathroom. Sometimes you hear him mutter a curse, bang once on the desk with - you presume - a fist. 

You wonder idly what he’s doing - gaming, maybe? - as you finish your homework. You submit your assignment. The sun sets. You cook an easy one-pan dinner. You wash up the dishes you made while cooking, you put the leftovers in the fridge. You go shower and wash your hair, emerge back into the living room in your pajamas, and heat up some water for chamomile tea. 

Namjoon’s door hasn’t moved at all, still open just enough for you to be able to tell that he hasn’t turned on any of the lamps even though it’s gotten dark; the only light from the room flickers blue and white, a tv or computer screen. The same sounds filter through the small gap as you let your tea steep - the chair, the keyboard, Namjoon’s low voice as he mutters to himself, something rhythmic and lilting, before the typing starts again.

When you turn out the kitchen and living room lights, close to midnight, and head to bed, he’s still typing away in there, the room still cast in black and blue.

Wednesday September 9

You’re surprised to find him in the kitchen Wednesday morning. You come out of your room at a clip, pretty ready to head over to campus - you’re just trying to find your wallet. 

Namjoon is sitting at the breakfast bar, a mug of steaming black coffee in front of him, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” he says, sounding a little surprised to see you, too.

“Do you not sleep?” you ask, before realizing how bratty you sound. “I just mean, you were still up when I went to bed, and now you’re up before me.”

Luckily, he smiles at this, a bit sheepishly. “Not as much as I should,” he admits. “I got… I was working on something last night, so I was up later than I meant to be. I’d love to sleep in today - trust me - but I have to be on campus in–” he glances at his watch, “--twenty minutes.”

“Me too,” you say, starting to hunt around the living room. “But I can’t find my wallet.”

“Is it this one?” he asks, pointing to the counter near the spot that you’ve both wordlessly designated as the place to drop your keys. 

“Yes,” you say, sighing with relief. You slide your wallet into your bookbag and zip it back up. You pat your pockets, checking - phone, keys, yes. “Are you walking over? Want me to wait for you?”

He considers this for a second. “No, go ahead,” he decides. “I need to get a few things organized first, I don’t want to hold you up.”

“Okay,” you say easily, hiking your backpack up a little higher on your back. “By the way, I won’t be around tonight, I have work. If you want the leftovers from what I cooked last night, feel free. They’ll go bad after today.”

Now Namjoon looks really surprised - his eyebrows jump and everything. “Really? Wow, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Sure,” you shrug. “I hope you like it.” You glance at the clock and murmur to yourself that you need to get going. “See you later,” you call over your shoulder as you leave. As you turn to give this goodbye, you see him watching you go with a small smile on his face, mostly hidden behind his large hand, fingers pressing against his mouth.

–

You have your senior thesis class on Wednesdays - it’s a double, with a break for lunch in the middle, and it’s with Professor Jemisen again.

“Two days in a row, huh?” he asks you as you pass his desk. You give him a quick smile and pick a desk near the middle of the room. As class starts, he outlines how the thesis will work - an intensive study and analysis of one or two poets’ works, as well as your own portfolio project. 

“We’ll spend the first half each week working on the anthology study,” he tells the room, scanning the crowd of sleepy seniors to make sure everyone is listening. “After we break for lunch, we’ll spend the second half workshopping your portfolios. It’s going to be a lot of work, and you’re going to need to be ready to go each Wednesday. If you’ve made it this far half-assing it, I’m warning you today that it won’t get you to pass your thesis. I’d like to remind you that you must pass Senior Thesis in order to graduate.”

He spends the rest of the morning session going over some options for the anthology study, showing examples of previous students’ final thesis projects to model what he’s looking for. 

By the time he flips the lights back on and you all stagger back to life, slowly shifting to pick up backpacks and shoulder bags, rising unsteadily from your chairs, your head is spinning. You could walk across campus to the student center and get real lunch, but this particular academic building has a coffee shop and a fast-food area. You opt for french fries and a juice, finding a few girls you’re familiar with and joining their table.

“This sounds like it’s going to be a lot of work,” one of them, a girl named Gloria, laments. You’ve had a few poetry courses with her over the last three years; she’s a talented poet, good at using a biting, precise syntax. 

“I know,” you agree, twisting the top off your juice. “Any ideas whose anthology you might use?”

She hums, eyes far away, mentally flipping through poets she likes enough to type twenty-five pages about. “Not sure yet,” she finally admits. “You?”

“No,” you lie. Professor Jemisen had said there would be no repeats - if someone else picked a poet, no one else could choose them. You already knew exactly who you wanted, and you didn’t want to lose your chance. In fact, you leave the lunch break early to go stake your claim.

“Can I go ahead and put in my choice?” you ask Professor Jemisen as you re-enter the room, about twenty minutes before the second block is scheduled to start.

He frowns good-naturedly. “You don’t want to think about it a little? I’m not going to let you change in the middle.”

You shake your head, sure. “No, I know who I want.”

Professor Jemisen nods somewhat absently, looking around the scattered papers on the table before him. He finds what he’s looking for and lifts it, reaching to take the pen from behind his ear. 

“Okay,” he says, finding your name on the roster. “Let me have it.”

“Edna St. Vincent Millay,” you tell him, mind already whirring, thinking ahead to which works would fit your thesis. “I was thinking of coming from a feminist angle… how she was so progressive for her time, how she pushed boundaries as a woman and as a writer.”

Professor Jemisen nods slowly, considering this. “That sounds promising. I look forward to seeing what you come up with, Y/N.”

Pleased, you take your seat, pulling up your school email and catching up on a few things while you wait for class to start again. 

–

You actually like your part-time job at the on-campus bookstore. The busy season can be a little exhausting - those first few days when it seems like the entire campus comes at the same time to get their required reading. But after the initial rush each semester, it’s a pretty laid back job. Since this is your third year there, your boss trusts you with a little more responsibility, which is how you ended up getting the closing shift twice a week.

Almost no one comes in after regular dinner hours, which means once you’ve done a quick sweep through to make sure nothing got put away in the wrong spot and the items that need restocked are handled you can just sit around behind the counter and talk shit with your coworker, Kris. Kris started with you last year, and you get along well.

“Do anything fun over the summer?” you ask absently, leaning back in your chair and crossing your legs, happy to be seated for a little while. Outside the store’s high windows, it’s dark. The lighting in the store is relatively dim, giving you a cozy, sequestered feeling.

“Went with my parents on vacation,” Kris tells you. “Barely survived.”

“Yikes,” you say. 

“How about you? Any family trips?” they ask.

“Nah,” you say easily. “Just hung out with Taehyung, the usual. The biggest event from my summer was Penny bailing on the apartment with me.”

Kris makes a grumpy noise. “I wish I could afford it,” they complain. “I would have loved to help you out and live off campus.”

“That would have been fun,” you smile. “We would’ve made trouble.”

Kris cackles, a deepy, throaty sound. “We would have. The roommate is okay, though?”

You shrug. “Yeah, Namjoon’s really nice. He’s clean and quiet, so I really can’t complain.”

Kris sits up, eyes widening. “Wait, Namjoon? You’re living with Kim Namjoon? The TA?”

You hesitate. “Is he a TA? I’m not sure.”

They wave a hand at you. “It has to be the same,” they say insistently. “How many Kim Namjoon’s can there be on a campus this size?”

“Probably only one,” you admit. 

“Probably only one,” Kris echoes in agreement. “And he’s beautiful. I honestly blame him for almost failing Medieval Lit last year. I was too distracted.”

You can’t help it, you crack up. “You failed Medieval Lit because you tried to take it on top of a full courseload,” you object. “And you tried to write your final paper about The Legend of Zelda.”

“I had solid evidence for my thesis!” Kris balks loudly. You’re laughing so hard you’re nearly crying, remembering how strongly you’d tried to help them focus on a better topic for that paper. Kris doesn’t listen to reason - not even when it comes from you. “And I’m telling you - it’s because I was staring at his gorgeous dimples instead of listening to the lecture!”

Gorgeous dimples? You haven’t noticed. To be fair, you’ve barely interacted with your new roommate; not a lot of chances to see him smile.

“How do you find all these beautiful men?” Kris laments, tugging at their purple hair in emotional distress. “It is truly unfair.”

You laugh; Kris spent much of last year bemoaning how much time you got to spend with Taehyung - and by proxy, Jungkook and Jimin. Kris had a collective crush on the whole bunch, starting from when they shared Freshman Seminar with Jungkook. 

“They find me,” you shrug. “And you know I’m blind to the beauty, anyway.” Well, that was almost all the way true. There was one exception.

“You know,” Kris says thoughtfully, “they really don’t hang out with other girls. You’re the only one.”

“That’s not true,” you object. “Have you seen those idiots at a party? They’re like magnets. It’s almost gross how easy it is for them.”

“I don’t mean at parties, I mean in their circle,” Kris explains. “You’re the only one they let into the group.”

You consider this, weighing the validity of it, searching for reasons. “I think it’s because they all know -”

Kris cuts you off, eyes glinting with mischief. “They all know that you’re so in love with Taehyung that you won’t bother the rest of them?”

You know they’re teasing and that they mean no harm, but it stings a little. You let out a quick laugh, trying to cover it. “I was going to say they all know that Taehyung and I are a package deal,” you say, the words tasting like arsenic on your tongue. “But maybe you’re more right.”

Kris seems to hear the change in your tone, and their gaze softens a little. “Anything new with that?” they ask delicately.

Anything new. You consider for a moment the version of the story that Kris knows: the close friendship, the feelings you have. How does it look from the outside? Can they see the situation with more clarity than you? You’re afraid to ask, afraid to give the question any attention.

“What could be new?” you ask, the lie dripping from you. “We were best friends last year - we’re best friends now.”

Kris gives you a side-eye good enough to be a viral meme. You ignore them, turning away gladly when the bell over the door dings. A grubby-looking freshman comes in and stands before the spinning rack with your electronic accessories - knock-off airpods, charging cables, usb drives. He grumpily sorts through the chargers and grabs one, slapping it down on the counter in front of you.

You ring him up silently and he leaves after paying. Kris is still watching you, and you dread turning around.

“You know,” they say slowly, “he was at a party I was at the other night. With a girl.”

You force yourself to shrug. “Taehyung dates. We aren’t together - he’s allowed. We’re just friends.”

They look at you evenly, then purse their lips and visibly decide to drop it. “Okay,” they say lightly. “If you say so.”

“I say so,” you mutter, deciding to go check the stock room for absolutely nothing, just to walk away.

When you get home, sometime after nine-thirty, Namjoon’s door is shut - a little sliver of that same blue light slipping underneath the crack below the door. Your leftovers are gone from the fridge, the container washed and put away.

Thursday September 10th

Thursday brings heavy rain - the all-day kind, the kind whose noise permeates the whole day, greeting you as you struggle to consciousness in your bed, adding steady percussion to the quiet music you turn on. The kind that makes you turn on lamps in broad daylight, the darkness outside making it that much harder to stay awake.

The kind that brings a barometric pressure headache, just for you.

[12:02 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: This is Taehyung, looking for signs of life [12:02 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: anyone in there? Hellooooo? [12:04 PM] You: shhhhhh why are you being so loud??? [12:05 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: ohh she’s got a weather headache [12:06 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: :( [12:07 PM] You: i want to push my thumbs through my eyeballs [12:09 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: you have such a way with words [12:14 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: you take anything for it? [12:15 PM] You: left the prescription stuff at lin’s house [12:15 PM] You: like an idiot 🤡 [12:17 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: ugh i’m sry [12:18 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: hope it passes quickly [12:19 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: lemme know if you feel good enough to come to dinner at the caf w me later

You don’t answer, pressing your head back into the darkness of the couch cushion beneath you. The pressure across your browline is nearly unbearable. You had managed to get up and get dressed, drinking a mug of coffee out of sheer desperation, before collapsing onto the couch. You set an alarm on your phone for when you need to leave for class and pray that just resting and closing your eyes until then will help, at all.

You don’t know how much later it is when you hear the front door open and close. You hear a muted thump as Namjoon (you assume) drops his bag in the entryway, then his footsteps tracing through the kitchen. The fridge opens, closes with a click, and then the footsteps approach. 

They pause somewhere in your vicinity. 

You can almost feel the unspoken alarm. It must look bad - you aren’t even laying down, just slumped sideways from a sitting position, body twisted to hide your face from any source of light. You raise one pitiful hand and wave. 

“Hi,” you say, not sure he can hear you through the couch cushion.

“Uh,” Namjoon says, taking one step closer, “are you… okay?”

“Relatively,” you say, rolling your head to squint at him through one eye. The soothing yellow lamplight seems stabbing, and you squint a little harder, trying to block it out. “I get bad headaches sometimes when it’s like -.” You wave a hand at the windows. Rain pounds against them, happy to finish your sentence for you.

Namjoon makes an understanding and sympathetic noise. “Can I do anything for you?” he asks after a minute, sounding a little ill at ease. “Does anything usually help? Do you need to go back to sleep or something?”

“I have class at two,” you grumble. “I don’t want to skip this early in the year. And yeah, I used to have a prescription for these kinds of days, but I guess I forgot to pack them.”

Namjoon disappears into his room, midconversation, which confuses you so much that you actually make yourself sit up, your head spinning from the change in position. You see the light shift in his room - he must have turned on the bathroom light. You can hear the rummaging of items, the rolling clatter of pills in bottles. He returns with a white bottle in hand, holding it out for you to read the label.

“You take these?” he asks, pushing his glasses back into place as you peer at the name.

“Not at that dose,” you laugh. “What are you, an elephant?”

He frowns playfully, pretends to pull the bottle away. “Well, I’m not going to share if you’re going to call me names,” he teases. “You think a half would be okay?”

“You don’t mind?” you check.

He scoffs lightly. “Of course not. I never use them all. I get about one bad migraine every six months, that’s all.”

“You’re a literal life-saver,” you tell him. He gives you a gentle smile, and you notice - really notice - those dimples Kris mentioned. 

They are cute. Damn.

He places half a pill on the table before you, screwing the cap back onto the bottle as he walks into the kitchen.

“Oh,” you call after him, feeling a little like you should stop him. “Hey, I can get my own…. drink,” you finish lamely as he sets a cup of water next to the pill. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, something warm in his voice, and then disappears into his bedroom again. 

You’re staring absently at his empty, open doorway as you take the medicine. He’s a mystery, this roommate of yours. There are probably lots of sides to him that you haven’t seen yet, many things you haven’t discovered about him. But you decide, right there, that he’s nice. 

–

[1:41 PM] You: i left my headache meds in your bathroom :(

[1:59 PM] Lin: oh noooooo

[2:02 PM] You: :( can you mail them? is that legal? Lol

[2:17 PM] Lin: i’ll find out 

–

[4:36 PM] Namjoon: did it help??

[4:37 PM] You: :( why are you so nice

[4:39 PM] You: took it from Death Mode to a dull pounding 

[4:43 PM] Namjoon: i’m really glad

[4:44 PM] Namjoon: i was going to order smth for dinner in a bit - you want in?

[4:47 PM] You: oh yes pls

[4:49 PM] Namjoon: Ondubu Menu.pdf

–

[4:41 PM] You: just said (typed) the word ‘pounding’ to my roommate

[4:42 PM] You: can i die now???????

[4:42 PM] Kris: lmfaooooooooooo i love you

[4:43 PM] Kris: the context, i BEG

[4:45 PM] You: i mean very unsexy context lol 

[4:46 PM] You: was in regards to the HEADACHE FROM HELL >:(

[4:47 PM] Kris: let’s work on sexying up the context 

[4:48 PM] You: bye 🚶‍♀️

[4:49 PM] Kris: #TeamNamjoon

[5:24 PM] You: #TeamYN 

[5:24 PM] Kris: #TeamDimples

[5:25 PM] You: we’re done here

–

[6:06 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: dinner at the caf? want me to come pick u up?

[6:08 PM] You: sorry, i ate, namjoon ordered us takeout

[6:09 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: ah. okay.

[6:12 PM] You: come over later?

[6:13 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: headache?

[6:14 PM] You: all better :) come over?

[6:19 PM] You: tete... please?

[6:20 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: yeah

[6:21 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: yeah i will

–

“I’m glad you feel better,” Taehyung tells you from his end of the couch. 

“Me. Too.” You wiggle your feet against his ribs. “It was truly terrible this morning.”

You’re on opposite sides of the couch, as usual, one blanket thrown over your legs. You balance your laptop on your thighs, trying to work on some homework. Taehyung scrolls through his phone. 

“I was thinking, you guys should have people over this weekend,” he muses, not taking his eyes off his screen.

“Like a party?” you clarify, still typing. 

“Mhm,” he nods. “A housewarming?”

You laugh a little. “That’s kind of last minute, Tae. You offering to help buy all the snacks and drinks? And clean?”

He meets your eyes long enough to make sure you see him roll his. “You don’t need help,” he grouses. 

You sigh, hating that you don’t hate the idea. “Could we keep it kind of lowkey?” you ask, as if you wouldn’t be the host, and thus in charge of these decisions.

“Just the guys?” Taehyung suggests, sounding a little hopeful now that it seems like you’re cracking. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Jungkook, Jimin… maybe the others? I don’t remember all of their names.” You mean Namjoon’s friends, the ones who had helped him move in.

“I’ll ask the groupchat,” Taehyung promises.

Friday September 11th

In the end, Taehyung gets confirmation from Jimin, Jin, and Jungkook - the others seem more like maybes. Although you’d asked to keep it small, you feel the need to diversify a little, and you extend the guest list to include Kris, plus Gloria and a few more of the girls from your classes.

Of course, needing to maintain a positive roomie experience, you make sure you ask Namjoon if it’s okay. In the morning, you wait a while after you hear his shower run to make sure he’s properly awake, and then knock on his door.

“Yeah?” he calls, sounding a little distracted.

“Namjoon?” you ask, nudging his door just a little. Yeah isn’t the same as come in, necessarily. “I wanted to ask you something.”

He’s sitting at his desk, his back to you. At your words, he reaches up to pop out his airpods, and clicks to minimize the screen he had up - what looks like a word doc, from your vantage point in the doorway. 

“Okay?” he says, stretching his long legs towards you, leaning back in his swivel-chair. 

“Did Taehyung talk to you about tonight?” you venture.

“Tonight?”

Why are you nervous? 

“Yeah,” you say. “He had an idea to have your whole group come hang here, like a little housewarming thing? He said he’d text you all.”

Namjoon glances at his phone, as if to corroborate your story, but doesn’t turn the screen on to actually check for the text. “I didn’t see it,” he admits. 

“Oh,” you say. “Okay. Well, he should have invited all of you guys. I mean, you don’t need to be invited, you live here. I just, um, I wanted to make sure it was okay with you? To have people over tonight?”

You watch it on his face as he understands that you’re asking for roomie permission. He sits back up, already starting to swivel back around to his screen, nodding easily. “Yeah, of course. Thanks for asking first.”

You frown at his back; you hadn’t really felt like the conversation was over, but he’s already pressing his airpods back in with his thumbs, feet tapping with the bass.

“O-kay,” you say, backing out of his room. You have a date with a vacuum cleaner before your living room fills with people. On your way to the closet where the vacuum lives, you text Taehyung, begging him to make a liquor run for you.

–

The truth is Namjoon forgets what you asked him about twenty seconds after you leave his room. He gets back to work, trying to get back into the flow he’d had before you knocked. He doesn’t hear you leave for class, doesn’t think about it again when he leaves for his own an hour later. 

[4:49 PM] Namjoon: bar tonight?

[4:50 PM] Yoongi: did we not…already have plans with you tonight?

[4:51 PM] Hobi: no, we did

[4:53 PM] Namjoon: we did? idr. can the plans be bar at 8:30?

[4:55 PM] Hobi: you’d rather do that??

[4:57 PM] Namjoon: than what?

[5:00 PM] Yoongi: we were supposed to go to your place?

[5:01 PM] Yoongi: taehyung texted us yesterday

[5:03 PM] Namjoon: oh yeah

[5:05 PM] Namjoon: i mean you all know i love taehyung…

[5:06 PM] Hobi: but…..

[5:07 PM] Namjoon: but do i want to sit around my living room with a bunch of undergrads tonight?

[5:08 PM] Yoongi: i get the feeling the answer to that is ‘no’

[5:10 PM] Namjoon: so, i repeat. bar? 8:30?

[5:10 PM] Yoongi: 👍👍

[5:15 PM] Hobi: that won’t hurt your roomie’s feelings???

[5:16 PM] Namjoon: she’ll be fine

Still, when 8:30 rolls around and Namjoon notices you bustling around the living room like a crazy person, he feels a stab of guilt in his stomach. Resigned, he asks, “Can I do anything to help you get ready?”

“Taehyung is supposed to be helping me get ready,” you grumble, as you line up a bowl of chips next to a smaller bowl of popcorn. “But is he here helping? Despite this being his idea?”

“That feels rhetorical,” Namjoon observes. You shoot him a look. 

There’s a knock at the door, which saves him from your wrath, he thinks. As he watches you hurry to the door, wiping your hands once on your jeans out of nervousness, he knows he can’t leave - not yet. Silently damning both his conscience and his mother for raising him to have one, he texts the guys that he’s running late. Then, he reaches over and pops the top off one of the beers you’ve set out.

He might as well, right? 

It’s an entire hour later than he finally feels like maybe he can slip away. Taehyung finally showed up about half an hour ago, three girls slipping through the front door behind him. Namjoon can’t help it - his eyes fly to your face, watching for a reaction. If you’re upset, you don’t show it, instead hurrying to show them around, pointing out where to grab drinks and where the bathrooms are located. 

When Jungkook and Jin arrive - clearly having pregamed - Namjoon rises, inching his way closer to the door. Someone with a mop of bright purple hair comes through the door with Jimin, and the volume in the room triples instantaneously. 

Now’s my chance, he thinks, and glances your way to see if he'll make it out unnoticed.

Would it not be easier to say, ‘hey, Y/N, this was fun, but I have plans with Yoongi’? He wonders. Probably, but that would potentially result in seeing the hurt look on your face, and he’s trying to avoid that. 

On the couch, you sit close to Taehyung, legs touching, his arm over your shoulders. You’re laughing maniacally at something, using his torso to hold yourself up as you cackle, eyes squeezed shut. He looks down at you, smile large and boxy, laughing along. 

Namjoon grabs his keys and slinks out the door. 

“Look who decided to show up to the gathering that he planned,” Yoongi drawls when Namjoon finally slides onto the barstool beside him. Hobi gives him a sheepish look, one that says sorry about him… but also, he’s right. 

“I felt bad leaving,” Namjoon explains. “No one was there yet, and then I wanted to finish the beer I opened…”

“Mhm,” Yoongi intones, and Namjoon almost asks him what that’s supposed to mean, but decides to let it go. 

They talk over a pitcher of beer, Hobi filling them in on how auditions for his dance team are going, Yoongi on his current classes. 

Namjoon’s phone buzzes against his leg and he slips it out of his pocket far enough to see your name on his screen. 

[10:03 PM] You: did you… leave??

[10:04 PM] Namjoon: yeah

[10:06 PM] You: it wasn’t bc of us right? I thought you said this was ok???

[10:07 PM] Namjoon: no it wasn’t. just not really my scene. have fun though

[10:10 PM] You: ah ok. i just assumed since some of ur crew are here you’d join us

Yoongi’s chin is practically on Namjoon’s shoulder as he peeks at his screen. 

“She wanted you to hang out, you dick,” he says. 

Namjoon balks, shaking his head. “She’s just trying to keep the peace. Doesn’t want drama with her roommate.”

“No, dude,” Hobi insists, peeking over Namjoon’s other shoulder, giving him a perfect angel and devil scenario. “You are, in fact, an asshole. She’s definitely upset that you left.”

Namjoon growls in frustration, shimmying his shoulders to knock his menaces loose. “I don’t want to talk about Y/N. Let’s talk about something else.”

From either side of him, Yoongi and Hobi exchange a knowing look. 

“What?” Namjoon demands. 

The shared look now incorporates some eyebrow movement. Then, cool as a cucumber, Yoongi leans back in his seat, takes a long pull from his beer glass. “So,” he says, so casual, “how are things with you two, anyway?”

“What you two?” Namjoon counters. 

“The roomies,” Hobi supplies. “The odd couple.”

“We are very not a couple,” Namjoon says flatly, irritation simmering. 

“But seriously,” Yoongi pushes. “How is it?”

“It’s fine,” he says, a defensive edge in his voice. He pauses, tries for a second to get his act together. “As far as roommates go, she’s good. Keeps the shared areas clean, isn’t noisy. She’s not rude or anything.” He shrugs, hoping this will be enough to get the jackals off his scent. 

“That’s good,” Hobi says, nodding. “Do you talk or anything?”

“Nope,” Namjoon says, which is true. “We just kind of do our own thing.” 

“Her ‘thing’ being Taehyung, right?” Hobi asks innocently. 

Namjoon shakes his head. “I don’t think anything’s actually going on there. To her dismay, it seems.”

“I wonder why,” Yoongi muses. When the others look at him in confusion, he explains, “I mean, why nothing’s going on. It seems like they’re attached at the hip. What’s missing? What’s stopping them?”

“He is,” Namjoon tells them. “How she looks at him, and how he looks at her… it isn’t the same. It just isn’t there for him. I won’t presume to know how he feels, but it seems like he’s just enjoying the benefits of her company until she figures out that it won’t go anywhere. If that ever even happens.”

He hadn’t realized he had an opinion about this until the words are out of his mouth.

“Kind of sad,” Yoongi remarks, pouring himself another beer. 

“Maybe she just needs someone to snap her out of it,” Hobi says thoughtfully. 

“Maybe,” Namjoon agrees, and changes the topic as smoothly as he can.

Honestly, he agrees with Yoongi. It is sad - even from the outside, even from the limited interaction you’ve had, he can see the stars in your eyes when you look at your best friend. And he can see the disappointment that swims there when Taehyung, just by existing, lets you down, over and over again, day after day.

Maybe you do just need a distraction, someone new to divert your attention. But Namjoon can easily see that it’ll be an uphill battle for whatever poor soul tries that route, and he doesn’t feel like he has the emotional energy for it. He’s been there and done that before, and he doesn’t like to repeat mistakes.

No matter how cute and funny he might find you.

He hurries to drown that thought in another pint of beer. 

Thank you so much for reading!!! Let me know what you think!!! Theories? Questions?? Keysmashes???

Section III will post on Friday, January 27th - hope to see you there!

<- Prev || Next ->

[light-everything-in-pink]

any headcanons about

uhh

poli in "a sunny day in broomstown" bcuz it seems interesting, and I need motivation to finish my pending drafts 😞)

ASDIB!Poli aka Mr. Robinson headcanons! (Mix of Funcanons™, Lorecanons™, and THEFUCKcanons™)

•Most (if not all) of my Human Poli's had been retired as a legitimate police officer, and were mostly deputies of their respective towns (if they have a concept of deputy).

Robinson, however, has the shortest span of duty, being just 4 years! This is due to a raid incident where one thing went wrong and...well...

Bodies scatter outside of an exploded building.

•Robinson once liked mysteries and ghosts and had once formed a Scooby Doo-esque team and fucked around with abandoned houses and forests. In that sweet sliver of puberty, he found the tapes of a cancelled 70s show called "A Sunny Day In Broomstown" and took it with him. He quickly lost interest at watching it until years later.

•Has a MASSIVE collection of newspaper, and for some odd reason, it's newspapers from the 70s to the 90s...

•Still afraid of bugs, and always have a bug swatter under his matresses. He even bought an electric one some time ago, although he was unable to utilize it anymore since him getting trapped happened a few weeks after.

And speaking of fears, he is oddly afraid of fires and getting burned, so much so that he owns 3 pairs of mittens he always wore like layers.

•Even when he was stuck inside the tapes, Robinson/"Poli" (like some AUs that is not his real name) still has back pain and nearsightedness :)

The Narrator has no idea how to 'fix' it, and last time he tried doing so, it just made Robinson further hate him.

Speaking of him, Robinson loathes the intangible voice narrating the tapes containing the show (of the same name as the AU). By far, this AU has the worst Polroy variation to ever exist, since those two hate each other, despite Narrator trapping Robinson because he is lonely, and Robinson just being blunt in general.

•Robinson had basically adopted ASDIB!Helly/Harley Robinson when the latter's parents died mysteriously, which includes Robinson's half-sister. Robinson and Harley have been extremely close nowadays...especially as they are the only one left with each other.

•Robinson plays the guitar and had played it to comfort Harley. And the Narrator giving him a guitar is the only thing Robinson had genuinely liked about him so far....but he can't tell him that he is constantly listening to the oddly nostalgic songs and his voice

•Has quick intuition but poor sense of awareness regarding the state of reality. Not in the way he was ignorant of worldwide issues, but rather he isn't aware when people are not acting like they usually/should be. This has been weaponized against him by Writer so that he won't notice that EVERYONE ELSE IN BROOMSTOWN FELT LIKE PEOPLE WHO LOST THEIR SOULS.

•Is in constant denial of his homosexual feelings

•Sometimes have weird dreams of being with someone male and everything about that type of dream feels blurry and then extremely painful like WHYAMIBURNINGWHYAMIBURNING—

•Has the "Most Depressed Poli Award" out of all Poli's and is basically Canon Poli if given depression and emotional issues

•Will ALWAYS win an argument, even with an intangible voice that is likely omniscient in just his own field.

And just so you know: everything ever mentioned have meaning or will soon gain it. Nothing listed points to dead ends, as there is no such thing as dead ends in ASDIB: just further clues of clues.

"Have a sunny day! God, this is annoying...."

[fullscoreshenanigans]

I have had a weird idea. A AU where the demon god, during the moment where everyone travel to the humans world, speak with both Norman and Ray to ask them if they want to share Emma's payment. Of course they say "yes". They didn't even ask what is the payment. They will share it, they will not let her pay alone.

The price? All three are de-aged to their 6 years old self. And send in different forbidden zones of the world, but with their respective mother and sibling if they have one.

Emma (now 6) falls in the same location that in canon, with Sienna and Carol (3). She has lost all her memories. Sienna has had a vision of the demon god telling her to enjoy this new chance. Or something like that. She is hesitant to call the others because she is afraid that her daugthers be taken of her. She needs a lot of time to heal, to learn to know her daugthers and to turst other humans. They'll be the last to be found.

Norman (now 6) falls with Mathilda and Rossi (7) in a opposite forbidden zone of the one where Emma is. Mathilda has had the vision of the demon god too and wants to enjoy this chance. She has thought that Norman was dead so much times. She thinks that nobody will want to leave her her kids. Rossi, who is kinda smart, realizes her fear and speaks with her about telling the truth to the rest of the Grace Field kids. He doesn't tell them by himself (zeven if he could) because he wants her to trust them. He sees how much she is hurt and can't trust perople. Norman doesn't remember anything but has very realistic dreams. Some are innocent (like one where he dreams about being very sick and having two friends triying to speak with him), but when he'll be 11 again, he'll have nightmares about Conny's death body and Lambda. They'll be probably found after Ray and Isabella.

Ray (now 6) ends with Isabella (who has survived but is severely hurt) in another forbidden zone, away of the others. They are in a zone where they have access to medical help. Ray remembers his 6 first years but not below for now. His last memory is the deal with Isabella (because of course it has to be THAT memory) but he's very lost. A lot of humans? Adult humans? Adult men? Where are Norman and Emma? He's a ball of anxiety, he's stressed and listen Isabella because survival instinct. People make genetic tests to be sure that they are related and so, they are left together. They speak a lot as soon that Isabella can have a long discussion. There are a lot of turst issues from Ray but he's six, and a part of him trully wanted to be loved, trully wanted Isabella to sayè that she doesn't want him to die. Ray will remember while growing up but only the most important things. It means that, when he'll reach the night between 11 and 12 again, you can guess what he will remember. They'll probably the first who will be found by the grace field children.

Of course they say "yes". They didn't even ask what is the payment. They will share it, they will not let her pay alone.

They are so good 🖤🧡🤍

Also Emma & Carol and Norman & Rossi biosibs truther.

Interesting to think about Matilda and Rossi interacting since he's aware of the farm system and has a vague idea of what Matilda went through having him, so even with being given a new chance, she's never truly able to pretend for a while like Sienna might be able to.

I'm assuming this plays a part in why Isabella and Ray are found by the other Grace Field children first though. Despite having two people who are fully cognizant of their situation, Rossi might feel guilty pushing for them to go out and find the means to contact the others with the same amount of fervor the kids have looking for Emma in canon.

I hesitate to call Matilda selfish without knowing exactly how much time it takes for them to be found, but since it appears Scribbles didn't make any stipulations about the mothers needing to raise the trio in isolation from the rest of their family, it is an interesting throughline to explore, weighing wanting to maintain the facade of a single mother raising two sons who wasn't the victim of systemic generational abuse and exploitation and the damage that did to her mind, body, and spirit, against her youngest-turned-oldest son's desire to reunite with the rest of his family that he misses terribly.

I'm assuming it's more that she's slower going about it and subtly reluctant about pursuing any leads they might have as opposed to being outwardly antagonistic toward Rossi whenever the matter comes up, but still, at some point after a lot of introspection you'd like to believe a parent would be mature to make that sacrifice of their personal preferred comfort for the benefit of their child. If not, though, it's interesting to think about how that affects her relationship with him, if it creates a distance between them by the time they're reunited, and how the Grace Field children might view her for keeping them separated from their brothers longer than they might have had to be.

(Chapter 55 showing Rossi being comforted by almost all of his brothers present in the bunker.)

His last memory is the deal with Isabella (because of course it has to be THAT memory) but he's very lost. A lot of humans? Adult humans? Adult men? Where are Norman and Emma? He's a ball of anxiety, he's stressed and listen Isabella because survival instinct. People make genetic tests to be sure that they are related and so, they are left together. They speak a lot as soon that Isabella can have a long discussion. There are a lot of trust issues from Ray but he's six, and a part of him truly wanted to be loved, truly wanted Isabella to say that she doesn't want him to die.

OOF the highlighting of adult men here is particularly interesting with how being in the care of Sisters and Isabella his whole known life, they're the greatest unknown to him, so him developing a bit of misandry because going with the devil you do known over the one you don't. Same with him clinging to Isabella and listening to her despite the tumultuous emotions he undoubted has about it.

Assuming Isabella doesn't have some degree of amnesia, it's also interesting to compare how she handles the information Ray tells her to Matilda and Sienna and if that factors into why they're found first, with her actively seeking out the family she knows can help them to both provide comfort for her son and closure to the children she raised who are missing their lost siblings.

[ivy-meshle]

Wait my AFTG BLB AU actually has some pretty strong kevallison thematic potential (maybe uh. kevalliseth actually.)

See I made Seth Gordon analogous to Parker MacMillan, which means. Well it means a bunch of things but the most important two are 1) it is simultaneously a Seth Lives AU and not, because PMM has a series of clones/replicas who do sometimes die, and so naturally some Seth Gordons do die, but also the original is still around (I also turned the last replica of Seth Gordon into Jack, because I felt it fit thematically), and 2) it leaves the perfect role for Allison as (New) Megan Ito.

Okay. Here's the BLB explanation for AFTG fans.

The original Parker MacMillan was Hexed with something called Firewalker, which essentially means that whenever he leaves a team (technically whenever he leaves a 'Location' but practically it meant if he was switched between teams), the team he left behind would become Unstable. Instability greatly increases the chances of incineration by rogue umpires (look. I call it surrealist fantasy horror for a reason). Several events happened that ended in him also leaving teams basically weekly. To prevent the entire league from dying, he was given the 'Force Field' item, which prevented him from leaving a team.

He also had a rival of sorts, called Megan Ito. She eventually acquired the modifications 'Trader' and 'Traitor', which allowed her to swap items with people on opposing teams or her team, respectively. She swapped her empty item slot with PMM's Force Field while they were on the same team, causing him to Roam away from that team, resulting in the incineration of that entire team, including Megan Ito. There was another weird interaction that I won't get into now, but essentially in order to preserve the popularity that the rivalry between PMM and Megan Ito brought to the game, one of the gods in charge of Blaseball (the Coin | the Boss, who is being replaced by Ichirou) forced the creation of a player called New Megan Ito.

I can't entirely explain the idol board here, but if any player was awarded the MVP status for five seasons, they were placed inside the Vault, which is where replicas can be made of people. Fans got PMM idol status five times, placing him in the Vault, and- since this was considered a different location- destabilizing the entire league, resulting in a decades long break of Blaseball, before it eventually re-opened. That re-opening was what actually took place on the website. Also during this, New Megan Ito was Preserved, placing her in the vault with PMM.

Eventually, the Coin re-appeared in the new era of Blaseball, and eventually had an exhibition match involving the people inside the Vault, both those from Prehistory (PMM and New Megan Ito) and those who had achieved MVP five times during the most recent era.

New Megan Ito, who also had both Trader and Traitor, promptly stole the replacement Force Field from Parker MacMillan again, releasing the Firewalker onto the Internet League.

So. Background out of the way.

Force Field gets replaced with Paralytic Pills. Allison Reynolds trades her Heart-Shaped Glasses for Seth Gordon's Paralytic Pills. Seth Gordon roams from the [TEAM NAME TBD]. Allison Reynolds, along with the rest of the team, are removed from the league. Eventually, a very similar chain of events happens, and you get Seth Gordon and New Allison Reynolds in the Vault together. For decades.

But the theme you need to take from that is that there is The Trader Traitor New Allison Reynolds in the Vault.

Now, I don't have time to explain the whole Hall Monitor vs Shelled One thing, but what you need to know is that there was eventually a team of dead players facing off against a team gathered by a malignant god. The dead players all had the modification 'Loyal', which- upon switching teams, which also happened frequently during that match- would turn to 'Saboteur', causing any pitches they threw that the batter hit to become automatic home runs. In Blaseball, this was a fairly prominent character named Jaylen Hotdogfingers (who was the first person in the current era to die, and then got revived, and then wound up back in the Hall of Flame, where dead players go, without actually being incinerated. It was complicated.) Anyways, if you had to pick a single protagonist for Blaseball, it would have been her. So naturally, I made Kevin Day her analogy.

Jaylen was on the Hall Stars (the team of dead players), and so she had that Loyal modification. Also due to some other mechanics around her resurrection, she had a modification that meant she was swapping with players on the opposing team basically constantly.

Anyways, on the winning home run, she was still on the Shelled One's Pods, the team coerced into serving that malignant god I mentioned. This is important because all of the players on the Hall Stars after that winning home run were Released, and no longer played, but Jaylen and everyone else who was on the Pods just returned to normal play. (Although Jaylen still had the Saboteur modification for her first game back, and pitched 23 home runs during one game. Lol.)

Eventually, she got Vaulted for being an important part of Blaseball's history, although a bunch of other stuff also happened in between.

So, clearly, you could call this AU's Kevin Day the Saboteur Kevin Day. And both of them were in the Vault for a while.

Traitor/Saboteur, obvious thematic parallels, and also I'm a sucker for kevallison. So. Yeah.

[kalisseo]

the mirror in you

okay so i wrote a one shot about this idea here, this is basically how it goes in the regular au, with some differences but the main idea is this i just felt like writing with this version because why not. i hope the three people that know the au lore enjoy this

(if it's low-key ass idgaf I'm sleepy)

___________

another normal lunch break in clone high high school: students walking around, eating at the cafeteria, or just passing time sitting in the grass with their friends, average activities for the average student.

except for two students: chris and hannah.

chris was walking around trying to find something interesting, like every other month, he was trying to make it big in a new field, and this time it was journalism! in a school full of clones of historical figures there must be something interesting to put in a newspaper, right?

hannah was outside the principal's office, trying to hear the best she could the conversation going on inside, she also had a recorder to record any valuable information, that has been her routine these past days, since a week ago she heard about some "secret plan", "world leaders" and this weird thing about a "new agenda".

chris casually walked to the same hall she was in. perfect! a clone that checked all his boxes for an interesting article! a mysterious reserved girl...doing something weird!? and outside the principal's office too...and not just that! she had a recorder with her! there was something definitely juicy going on with her.

chris squeaked of joy, walking towards her, since he was behind she couldn't see him, not until chris pulled his own recorder out of his pocket and talked to her.

"hello, tubman!" he said in a cheerful voice, Hannah couldn't do anything but scream, jeez! chris wasn't that scary. "uh, are you oka-?" a hand covering his mouth shut him up.

"SHH! silence!" she whispered in an angry tone, followed with a face of terror when she heard steps getting closer to the door. "shit! they're gonna catch us" hannah took her hand off chris mouth to cover her own.

"hey, do you know my mom is-?"

"SHH" hannah looked around and grabbed chris by the arm, she found the perfect place to hide, the janitors closet.

hannah slammed the door and basically threw chris there.

hannha was sweating, she could feel her heart beating violently, meanwhile chris stared at her in confusion.

"so...harriet tub-!" he said turning his recorder on.

"hannah."

"come on! can you let me finish my sentences for once!?"

"my name's hannah, you should respect how other people want to be called, you know? being popular doesn't entitle you to do whatever you want." she scolded chris, god, she found popular kids so stupid.

chris only rolled his eyes "so...hannah, something interesting you wanna share?" he pointed at her face with her recorder and a big smile "you seemed really suspicious out there."

"what are you, a journalist?" she crossed her arms trying to figure out what he wanted.

"well, actually! trying to, if i find something interesting enough I could be famous!"

"wait, come again? something interesting?" maybe popular kids weren't that bad, if this whole journalism thing could help her on her mission to save the school.

chris nodded his head, and before speaking again hannah grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to her, but not that much, her expression changed drastically.

"I do have something for you!"

"really!?" he yelled, finally! his eyes were shiny for excitement.

"yes! interesting, and DANGEROUS! but I need you to believe me, I have proof!" she was talking so fast that chris could barely keep up with what she was saying.

"give it to me then!" hannah left him go, chris composed himself a little, fixing the collar of his shirt, suddenly hanna handed him her phone.

"just don't swipe off too much" she asked nervously "anywho, i discovered the truth about this school, sure, we all know we're experiments but we were made with a purpose, become leaders and weapons! isn't that crazy? and they're planning on erasing our memories soon with a laser!" the words coming out of her mouth were messy and barely made sense, chris was confused, he kept checking out the photos on her phone, it was documents, and photos of a laboratory, and some kind of laser, he could assume that was the laser hannah was referring to. "I tried to warn joan, but she made fun of me, she always makes fun of me and thinks I'm joking, but she will be the one begging for my attention once I save her." all the bitter words were lost in the air, chris didn't really paid attention to her, he only focused on the name that was on one of those documents: candide sampson.

"hey, candide is my mom!"

"that's perfect! you could be a spy!" the obvious thing flew over hannah's head, if it was a revelation for her, it was gonna be ten times worse for chris.

"my mom wouldn't do that...i mean sure she's a cold woman who only cares about her job that I don't know anything about other than is just casually government related and even more casually related to this school but, but she wouldn't be like that, you know?"

"well, maybe everything's a LIE! Wouldn't it be weird to have a school of clones without a purpose?"

"i don't know, maybe they were bored!"

"or maybe they were lying to us!"

chris stared in disbelief at the photos of those documents, until hannah snatched her phone out of his hands.

"meet me here tomorrow if you want to save people, unlike joan."

hannah opened the door and left, this was going to be difficult for chris.

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

"Wait, why is Loki naked?!?!"

This is The Mighty Thor issue 359, originally published September 1985. I should preface this by saying I have absolutely zero context for this comic. It is the oldest comic, Loki-related or otherwise, that I have ever read in its entirety, so aside from any context provided by the author, I have no idea what happens before or after. My knowledge going into it is this: the cover is vaguely reminiscent of a couple pieces of fan art I've seen (that I do not have sources or screenshots of at the moment, I'm sorry): one, a slightly more harmonious sibling AU with Thor and Loki seemingly willingly kneeling at Hela's feet, and another where Hela says "Kneel before your queen," and Thor kneels at Loki's (in fem form) feet. Additionally, I know Lorelei, and I don't like her. I don't dislike her as much as I dislike her sister, but neither of them are my favorite. Finally, I skimmed this last weekend when I started getting fixated on Sigyn just to see if she was in it. While I don't think I saw her, Loki DOES NOT WHERE A SHIRT for MOST of the issue, and I am greatly distressed (hence the title). This is why I'm actually reading it. Let's get into it. (EDIT: Loki does not actually get all the way naked, but oh boy does he try to get as much skin passed the 80s censors as possible!)

If the "In the service of Loki" doesn't get vaguely homoerotic, I'm gonna be mad.

My God, these old comics have a lot of words.

I guess even macho Asgardian gods were not immune to the fads of the 80s. Those leg warmers, damn, Heimdall.

No, get Amora out of here! She's just gonna make shit worse. Let's see where this goes. Maybe Loki just wants to, I don't know, invest in the arts and institute safety regulations as king. Just a thought.

Listen, I know nothing, so a Sif/Beta Ray Bill romance that ended as suddenly as I was aware it existed comes as out of left field for me as the forty-year-old Fig Newtons ad on the next page.

AMORA! You just wanted to kiss your sister's drugged up boyfriend!!!

I cannot with this fucking bird Lorelei rides. I'm dying.

Amora, you literally just said yourself that he was under an enchantment. What is this going to do?

Uh, RUDE.

Oh, hang on. Loki doesn't even know this is happening? Is that why he's naked shirtless when he finally shows up?

Ookay. He is naked. Because he's fucking Lorelei. Now it makes sense.

Yup. Also this reaction image is so funny, I'm dying!

I am uncomfortable.

I'M SHRIEKING! Why did they reference this weird, random, old comic about a convoluted triangle of seduction where Loki is naked the whole time in Ragnarok???!!! This is the most incredible thing I've seen all week. I'm going to be thinking about this forever. Does he pull this shit with Loki often? Is this a common thing? Is this a coincidence? I don't give a shit; I'm going to tell everybody I know as if I know for a fact that this is just some strange piece of trivia about Marvel and I don't care if it's accurate or not.

"This cloak EMPTY. YEET!" --Thor, probably, if this comic was published 35 years later than it was. (Also it is important to me that you understand: She was not wearing the cloak before he did this. It was hanging up. He comes over to her, takes the cloak off the wall as he goes, then wraps it around her while he does some magical feat of ventriloquy by talking while he full-on snogs her on the mouth. And then he yeets the motherfucker out of the cloak.)

Thor, Sif is also fucking someone else. This is a goddamn soap opera. I'm gonna need to make a diagram.

Thor gets on his knees a lot in this comic. Also the service of Loki byline was a fucking lie. He's not kneeling to Loki on the cover but Lorelei. He speaks to his brother for five minutes and it's while he's threatening to smash his face in with Mjolnir.

Please excuse my god-awful handwriting or the fact that I almost misspelled Lorelei's name twice or the fact that the apostrophe in fuckin' looks like an exclamation point.

[demons-and-demigods]

Demons and Demigods Part Thirteen: Dreams are Weird, and Everybody's Confused

Heyyyyyy sorry for dropping off the face of the earth, whoops. I got distracted by other projects and going on vacation so I haven't done much work on this au in a while. But! I have a short little update here for you! I had originally planned to turn at least some of this into a fully written scene, and I might come back to do that at some point, but for now, have some nonsense that amuses me.

I wanted to do some episode rewrites for the spn boys because I missed them, and decided I'd do it for Ghostfacers and/or Jus in Bello. However, it felt weird to just veer away from the Argo II crew since there's so much going on there, and my brother suggested doing the episode rewrites through the viewpoint of Percy's weird ass demigod dreams so I started whipping up ideas for that because it immediately tickled me thinking about Percy watching the Ghostfacers nonsense go down.

I don't think there's much of anything for Jus in Bello mentioned here, I kinda fixated on Ghostfacers and then another idea I had instead. Anyway, here's some incorrect quotes style things I was thinking about and a bit of stream-of-consciousness writing.

Percy, dreaming on the Argo II: [witnessing Sam and Dean dealing with the Ghostfacers bullshit] The Ghostfacers: you have to go be gay for that poor dead intern/gay love can pierce through the veil of death to save the day Percy, a queer, waking up: what the fuck?  ~ Percy, dreaming: [eavesdropping on Sam and Dean's convos] Sam and Dean: [bickering about Dean only having a few months left] Percy, waking up and immediately Iris Messaging them: hey, the FUCK you mean Dean only has a few months left what the hades are you talking about? Sam and Dean: [high-pitched, startled screaming and flailing that ends up disconnecting the IM] Percy: . . . Rude. 

PERCY PARTY CRASHES ONE OF SAM OR DEAN'S DREAMS JUST LIKE 'oh hey haven't done this in a while' AND SAM/DEAN IS JUST LIKE 'WHY TF IS THIS KID HERE?' Bonus points: it's Dean's dream and it's a ~Trauma~ dream abt John being an abusive shit stain when he was little and Percy is just like oh fuck that actually and intervenes in the dream-memory to kill John (like mother like son) and then he and Dean trauma-bond over abusive 'dads' (Percy: hey next time I'm in the underworld I'll ask Uncle H if he knows where John is. that fucker better be in Hell or the Fields of Punishment and if he's not, he will be. // Dean: 👁️👄👁️ ) 

Dean pov on Percy gate crashing his dream and killing dream-john and them trauma-bonding over abusive ‘dads’ (neither John nor Gabe should be called a dad but for the sake of brevity). Percy pov on him watching the Ghostfacers nonsense through his weird ass dreams and overhearing the ‘Dean, you only have a few months left’ convo and resolving to call/IM the boys when he has the time to do so to demand an explanation for that bullshit and then Sam dropped the bomb that his brother is a dumbass and sold his soul to bring Sam back to life and now Dean only has a few months left before hellhounds are gonna come after him to drag his ass down to Hell and Percy is just like gods damn dude that’s some serious shit why didn’t you ask for our help? Did you ask for help from anyone in the Greek world? 

And Dean is very firmly like no we didn’t and we aren’t going to. Aunt Sally has enough on her plate to worry about without adding my impending doom on top of it and we don’t exactly know anyone else in the Greek world, let alone how to get in contact with them. Also, anyone we do know would no doubt tell Aunt Sally about it and like I said, I’m not laying that on her. (Because he’s dumb.) 

And Percy’s just like, what the fuck man, I mean I get it I always sanitize my quest stories for mom so she doesn’t freak out too much but still. What the fuck dude. And they have that whole heavy conversation where Percy promises to look into things on his end for any way to get Dean outta his deal and if nothing else talk to Uncle H and see if he can’t jailbreak Dean’s soul for him or smth. (Percy does, in fact, later ask Hades, begs him actually, to help Dean, to bring him back, to at least steal him and put him somewhere better than the Christian equivalent of the Fields of Punishment. Hades has to gently tell him I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do and he is genuinely remorseful that he can’t help out his nephew because he has grown fond of him and he would be more than happy to personally place Dean Winchester’s soul in Elysium if he could but he can’t and so he holds his nephew as he sobs, mourning the loss of another loved one whose life was cut too short and prays that the Fates or the Christian God or whoever is in control of this all will give Percy a fucking break and that someone will free Dean Winchester from Hell.) (Enter Castiel, Gay Ass Angel of the Lord, who will grip Dean tight and raise his fine ass from perdition.) (But I am once again getting ahead of myself. So.) 

Devolved a bit into my Destiel agenda there at the end, but this is my weird ass au and I do what I want lmao

Like I said at the start, I might come back to this at some point and fully write out the Ghostfacers nonsense, but for now, I'm gonna leave it at this and try to focus on figuring out what scene to cover next for the Argo II crew. I'll try not to fuck off into oblivion again but no promises, sorry.

[eeby-beeby-saiki-k-fan-blog]

hey guys wanna see me try and brute force a saiki k undertale au

just a "which character would fit which role and why" type post,

spoilers for undertale

also be prepared for a really long post if/when you press keep reading, I might've had a bit too much to say about this

Kusuo could fit Frisk pretty nicely, there's this general vibe that Frisk's just being dragged through the story by the other characters. When they interact the narrator says something along the lines of "you tell [character] this" and that might be a pretty good interpretation of telepathy.

Akechi would be Chara, there's a popular theory that Chara is the narrator, Akechi played the part of narrator during the Urashima Taro play so there's that. They both speak pretty formally, Akechi also just straight up looks like Chara. That bug eyed stare and smile he usually has along with his hair cut makes him really remind me of them. Chara's very left up to interpretation so pretty much anyone could be Chara honestly.

Kusuke fits Flowey the best for sure, the whole "everything is a game" type mentality and everything. He could be warp instead of a flower, then maybe for the god of hyper death form he could be Mr K or something.

Teruhashi would either be Toriel or Mettaton. The whole having a massive fanbase thing could really easily make her Mettaton, her arrogant attitude is also pretty similar to Mettaton's. (btw this is not me hating on Teruhashi, that whole "girls are not allowed to like how they look or like attention" narrative people have is toxic) (just feel obligated to say that) I say Toriel because I'm really just not sure who else would be Toriel? Her savior complex could make it work.

I think Kuboyasu is gonna be Sans, has that general chill unless provoked type vibe you know?

Kaido would be Papyrus. This one's the most clear. Papyrus isn't delusional the same way Kaido is, but if Papyrus talked about dark reunion instead of joining the royal guard you'd have nearly the same character. Nendo as Sans would be pretty similar to how they interact in the anime, half a braincell between the two of them (it's Kaido's) Kaido and Kuboyasu being put together also just works, "sworn friends" and such.

Hairo would be Undyne, flaming passion and such.

Nendo would fit Monster Kid pretty well I think

I'd say the best fit for alphys would be Suzumiya Hii, since she acts the closest to alphys (BY THE WAY. I'm ignoring a lot of the relationships in Undertale. Alphys x Undyne is one of those, I mean Hairo x Suzumiya is a little weird.)

Yumehara is gonna be mettaton, this might seem a little out of left field but I'll explain my reasoning. A lot of this is just Mettaton's old diaries and his old house remind me of Yumehara, it's got that vibe y'know.

Mera would be Muffet, Muffet Mera. There was one post a while back that showed if you killed Muffet she dropped 0 gold. Also Mera definitely eats and hangs out with spiders just saying

Figuring out who Asgore would be is by far the hardest. I'm gonna say Matsuzaki, just the best idea I have. (btw this is one of those "ignore the relationships the role entails" things)

You know,,, I'm not sure how the monster/human dynamic would be translated here. One idea is psychics won the war against humans so like the humans are underground and the psychics fall into the mountain. This would make it so Aiura and Toritsuka could be the souls in this au (yeah only two souls). Considering that idea messes up the roles a bit though because of Kusuo Kusuke and Akechi, Kusuo and Kusuke are fine but Akechi isn't psychic I'm pretty sure.

An alternate idea for this dynamic: psychics underground humans on the surface. You could say that Kusuo was on the surface at first because he was "acting" as human. There's also that one theory that every Saiki k character is psychic, considering that makes this au a lot easier lmao

It's basically take your pick based on if you like the "everyone's psychic" theory or not

So the roles here are:

Frisk - Kusuo

Chara - Akechi

Asriel/Flowey - Kusuke

Toriel - Teruhashi

sans - Kuboyasu

PAPYRUS - Kaido

Jerry - Takahashi

Monster Kid - Nendo

Undyne - Hairo

Alphys - Suzumiya

Mettaton - Yumehara

Muffet - Mera

Asgore - Matsuzaki

I do have some alternate ideas though,

Kuboyasu as Undyne, Hairo as Asgore, Nendo as Sans, Kusuke and Makoto as Alphys and Mettaton respectively, I've had my fill for writing today though so that's it

anyways this au really doesn't work lmao