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written-in-knife · 29 days ago

Note

Love love love you Floyd jump ring fic- the leech boys deserve more love 🧜‍♂️

Would you be able to do a pre relationship of similar epic misunderstandings with Jade, maybe with Yuu not understanding merculture and/or Jade GREATLY misunderstanding human courting culture in his attempts to learn about land culture, I die thinking about how merpeople might misinterpret sayings like “the way to the heart is through the stomach” or “gotta get that ring” when enthusiastically trying to court

Rocks and Flowers

Jade Leech x gn!reader, pre-relationship

they/them pronouns, fluff, miscommunications/misunderstandings, a single use of my dear, poorly translated french damn you Rook

Word Count: 3616

I'M HERE I'M ALIVE. I'm getting ~*Diagnosed*~ finally. Lots of appointments this past week im so tired lmaoo Also I'm changing out all the character banners, so lemme know what yall think as stuff comes out

Jade had a baseline knowledge of land culture, of course. Before they came to land to go to Night Raven, he, Floyd, and Azul had all gone to land camp. It taught them how to avoid social faux pas with the people they'd meet on land, various human traditions, even how to walk. What it did not teach them was just how many turns of phrases the common language had. Some made sense, some even overlapped, but some were... notably harder to understand. And why were so many of them about ways to kill animals? He never bothered to ask questions, he knew they were just phrases that land dwellers often used to get their point across, and most of the time the meaning could be derived through context clues. Most of the time.

When Jade realized his own attraction towards you, he was hesitant to act on it. Land camp had explained a few things about human courting, but mostly in the context of how to avoid making acquaintances feel uncomfortable. He wasn't sure how exactly to go about it. He spent a lot of time trying to look things up online-- a mistake-- and in books, trying to figure out how humans even started their courting rituals let alone what the entire process entailed. He wasn't about to go around asking, knowing anyone who would be willing to give him an answer in the first place would also be the most likely to give him false information. So he was stuck looking through various books trying to find answers for you.

And he had no idea you were doing the same for him.

It was easy to fall for Jade once you got past the subtle menacing aura that was always surrounding him, and you fell hard. You didn't fully realize it yourself until you found that you'd listened to him talk about the mushrooms he'd found on his hike to fill out his most recent terrarium for two hours. You learned more about mushrooms in those two hours than most people would want to know in their entire lives, and you were excited to hear more. When you got back to your room that night, you started researching merfolk romance online-- A MISTAKE-- trying to make sure you wouldn't do anything to insult him. The only people you could ask about the topic were Azul and Floyd. Azul would almost certainly make you sign away something in return for the information, and Floyd... yeah, no. That's a nonstarter. So you ended up in the library, sneaking back to your dorm with books about merfolk courting rituals, both ancient and modern, praying no one would catch you on the way back.

Jade had read through the few informational manuals he could find on human courting-- one written by a merperson decades ago, and another that seemed to be angled towards preteen girls and had some truly terrible advice-- and had to move on to... more unconventional methods. Which lead to him reading romance novels in a far corner of the library. There were a surprising amount of them, many with musclebound men with long hair and a petite woman in his arms on the front. Jade opted for the other plentiful options that wouldn't blow his cover immediately. He was engrossed in his book, one hand propping his head up on the table and the other flipping pages, fingers lightly drumming on the cover as he read. It wasn't a terrible read, but it seemed wholly unrealistic. How would owning a dog get you a romantic partner? He was too deep into the book to notice someone lurking, barely keeping his composure as someone gasped loudly beside him.

"Monsieur Prémédité!" Not many people could sneak up on Jade, but Rook was definitely one of them. "I was not aware of your exquisite taste in literature! Comme c'est merveilleux!"

"This is actually quite far from my usual choice, I'm afraid." Jade corrected as Rook beamed down at him. He carefully flipped the book closed, back cover up, as two others approached from behind him. "Are you familiar with this one?"

"Oui! I find it most interesting how the dog is a pivotal part in the budding romance!"

Of course he does.

Vil leaned forward to skim through the description on the back, confusion growing on his expression at each word. "If this is so out of the norm for you, why are you reading it?" He asked.

"For research purposes." He admits, flashing the Pomefiore students a sharp smile.

"Un étudiant en l'amour?" Rook gasped excitedly as he quickly sat down across the table, lacing his fingers under his chin in intense interest as Vil rolled his eyes and straightened back up. "Monsieur Prémédité, je n'aurais jamais deviné! For what are you researching? Please, tell me everything!"

"Now you've done it..." Epel muttered from behind Vil, sounding exhausted.

Jade hesitated for a moment. The Pomefiore students would certainly be the ones to ask when it came to these sorts of things. They at least would be the least likely to lie to him about the particular subject. "I'm researching human courting rituals. There is little in the way of instructional manuals in our library, so I have turned to these." He gestured to the book in front of him before turning back to Rook, who practically had stars in his eyes. "Unfortunately, there isn't much to be gained from these, as it turns out."

"Are you trying to find information so you can court someone?" Epel asked, looking mildly concerned before Vil swatted him lightly upside the head with a mutter of "too blunt."

"Land boot camp never covered the topic, and I must admit, I've been dreadfully curious ever since I first heard the story of the mermaid princess." It was as easy for Jade to lie through his teeth as it was to breathe, piling on the pitiful tone and expression to try to play at least one of them for a sucker. "The stories never went into detail on how the land prince courted her, I thought I would find more information here, but alas..."

It was unsurprising that Rook took the bait, hand resting on his chest as he nodded along sympathetically. Vil rolled his eyes again and Epel muttered something about courting rituals to himself, neither nearly as invested in the lie.

"On land, courting must be bold!" Rook began without prompting as he stood from his chair, Vil only just keeping him from propping a foot dramatically on the table by grabbing his arm and pulling him back. "Loud proclamations of love! Flowers! Doves! Music!"

"And some people don't enjoy that at all." Vil sighed, shooing Rook down from his soapbox. "You just have to play to your audience. But it does often involve flowers."

"My Meemaw says the quickest way to anybody's heart is through their stomach." Epel chimed in, getting a quick glare from Vil at the accent slip.

"Your grandmother is correct on that front."

Jade stared for a moment at the phrase. Another he didn't recognize and wasn't exactly provided context clues for. The way to win your affections lies... in your stomach?

"The most common way to begin a human courtship is by bringing flowers, admitting your intentions, and inviting them out with you on a date." Vil explained further, Rook quietly waxing poetic about each point next to him. "Which is why it's more commonly referred to as dating, rather than courting."

"I see... This has been enlightening, I thank you all for your input." Jade nodded to them.

"Do let us know how it goes, Jade." Vil gave him a knowing smirk as he spoke.

Jade flashed back his own sharp smile, narrowing his eyes just slightly at the housewarden. "I've no idea what you mean, Vil."

Meanwhile, you'd found some fairly decent information on merfolk courting rituals, turns out their methods were significantly better documented than humans' were. Unfortunately for you, however, a lot of the courting rituals varied between the different species of merfolk and there wasn't a lot of overlap as far as you could tell. The biggest overlap you could find had to do with small gifts; pebbling, as some species of merfolk called it. It seemed to be finding something cool or pretty on the ocean floor and bringing it to the person you were courting, which sounded easy enough. You were already a fan of picking up cool rocks, it wouldn't be any trouble to just bring them to Jade instead of putting them on your windowsill.

Another common overlap you found was the importance of jewelry across all species of merfolk, but it seemed to be... maybe a little too important for just trying to date him. From what you could tell, giving a merperson jewelry was their closest equivalent to proposing, or maybe a promise ring? You weren't entirely sure, but it seemed like too much. Specifically to eel merfolk, the book you found talked a significant amount about a dance that you couldn't quite understand. It was definitely an underwater activity, as far as you could tell, but maybe dancing in general would be good enough on land? The way the book talked about it made it seem like it was common enough knowledge that no one would even bother writing down the details. You were too engrossed in the notes you were taking-- yes, you were taking notes on this-- to notice the floorboards on the other side of your door creaking.

"Hey Yuu, I got yer--" You scrambled to cover up your notes, the book, to be nonchalant about it as Epel walked into your room, holding your potionology notebook in his hands. He looked surprised at your panic as you blocked your desk with your body, definitely not looking completely suspicious. "--notes. What, uh... Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing. Studying." You spat out, not moving from the uncomfortable position you found yourself in. "Thank you for bringing those back, you can leave them on the armchair."

"Or... I could just hand 'em to ya." He smirked, inching towards you and watching as you leaned backwards over your desk to keep hiding the evidence.

"Or you could just hand them to me!" You agreed in a tone too upbeat to be believable, snatching the notebook out of his hand as soon as he was close enough. "Thank you, Epel, but I really have to study so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure, sure..." He nodded slowly, just managing to peek past one of your arms, smirk growing devious. "Ya writin' an essay 'bout merfolk courtin' rituals?"

"OUT. GET OUT." You shouted as your face began to burn, leaping up from your awkward position to shove him out the door while he cackled.

"Aw, c'mon, I ain't gonna tell nobody!" He protested. "In fact, I got some interesting information myself in the library today--!"

"DON'T CARE, GET OUT. TELL NO ONE." You shoved him out into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him.

Out in the hall, Epel simply shrugged, smirking to himself as he walked away. "They'll figure it out eventually." It was nice to be the one in the know.

You were mortified but at least you were fairly sure he wouldn't run to tell anyone about it, you don't think you'd ever be able to live it down if Ace caught wind of this. You twisted the lock on the door into place before going back to your desk to continue your research, face still burning red as you flipped everything back to where it had been.

Vil had given Jade a decent jumping off point, but he found himself going back to the phrase Epel had used. The way to the heart is through the stomach. Of course that had to be a way to win your affection, but through your stomach? He hadn't read anything about the abdomen being involved in any courtship rituals, at least not the initial stages. Perhaps he had missed something? Maybe it was something lesser known that older generations did? It couldn't possibly be as simple as food, could it? The common language turns of phrases were never so simple, even the ones he understood. He turned the phrase over in his head for a few days, too busy analyzing it as he walked into his Ancient Magic class to catch who had put a rock on his desk. Why was there a rock on his desk? He stopped to stare at it for a second before glancing around at his fellow sophomores, none of whom seemed to be taking even a passing interest in his confusion. It had definitely been placed with purpose, squarely in front of his chair so there was no way of him missing it or mistaking it as being for someone else. He picked it up as he sat down, turning it over to examine in his hand as Floyd flopped down in the seat next to him.

"I don't suppose you saw who left this, did you?" Jade asked, presenting the rock for Floyd to see.

"Nah, couldn't give a shit less." Floyd grumbled, barely glancing at the rock before draping himself forward over the desk.

Jade hummed lightly, glancing around one more time before depositing the rock in his bag. He could maybe make use of it for a terrarium, if nothing else. He didn't think much of it the first time, but as the week went on, there continued to be rocks on his desks. Not ever in the same class either, so he could confirm that it was not an accident the first time. They were just small rocks that could fit in the palm of his hand, some of them having interesting patterns or colorations, some having interesting shapes, but they were still rocks. He kept the nicest few to put in his terrariums, the rest were left in his bag to bring with him on his next trip to the mountain.

By the end of the week, you were out of your coolest rocks that you were willing to give away. You were almost certain you were doing this wrong, leaving them for him to find instead of just handing them to him, but you were so afraid that maybe pebbling didn't apply to eel merfolk, or that the rocks weren't good enough. You didn't find them outside in the grass or still in the classrooms, so you considered that a win at least. And Epel was the only one smirking at you whenever Jade walked into the cafeteria or down the hall, so he hadn't told anyone what he'd seen. Another win!

You planned to spend your weekend figuring out how to go about dancing with Jade. The books weren't clear enough on what the dance entailed besides that it was done with tail fins while underwater, but it was very clear that it was done while courting. You were on the couch in the Ramshackle lounge on Saturday evening, rereading the courting book for any sort of clues you'd missed when there was a knock on the door. You quickly shoved the book between the couch cushions, making sure it was completely hidden as you got up and headed for the door, immediately glad you'd hidden the book as you opened the door to Jade standing on the front porch. He was dressed in the outfit he usually wore to go up the mountain, mud still on his boots from his hike and gloves dangling out of his pockets.

"Hello, Yuu." He said pleasantly, looking over your obviously startled demeanor. "I do hope I'm not interrupting."

"No, not at all." You waved him off quickly, trying desperately not to somehow give yourself away. "Just, uh... reading. What's up?"

You froze as he stepped forward, into your personal space, and placed a hand on your stomach, just above your navel. Even through your shirt, his hand was cool, sending a shiver up your spine. You stared wide eyed as he smiled down at you before reaching into his bag and pulling out a bundle of small flowers, presenting them to you. They were a little squashed from being in his bag, and it looked like he had picked them off the mountain himself. You felt the heat rising on your cheeks as you took them from him, the fact he’d taken the time to gather them himself was flattering by itself.

“I was given advice on how to go about this, and was told to just be straightforward with my intentions.” He began plainly. “I’ve found myself drawn to you recently, and would like to begin courting you. I was told it was called “dating” and that I should invite you out with me, if you’re interested?”

You could feel how hot your face was getting as he spoke, not believing your luck. Maybe you wouldn’t have to figure out that dance? Maybe you still should? Would it be rude not to? He, on the other hand, was getting nervous in the drawn out silence that your internal reeling was creating, worried he’d done something wrong. He wouldn’t show it on his face, of course, but he was getting uncomfortable.

“Oh, uh, yeah!” You spat out quickly, chuckling nervously as you realized just how long you’d let that moment drag out. “Definitely. When? And where?”

He paused for a few confused blinks, smile slipping as you watched a light dusting of pink grow on his cheeks. If he weren’t so close, you might’ve not even noticed. “I was... unaware that was something I had to plan ahead of time.” He admitted slowly, internally cursing himself for not asking more details when he had the chance.

“That’s alright!” You were quick to assure him, fiddling with the little bouquet he’d given you. “We can figure that out together, if you want?”

His smile returned at the offer, warmer this time, fonder. “I’d enjoy that.”

“Great!”

There was another pause as you looked down at the small blooms in your hands, then at his hand, which was still rested on your belly. You glanced up at his face, then his hand, then his face again.

“Hey Jade?”

“Hm?”

“What... What is this?” You tried your best not to sound like you disapproved as you glanced down at his hand again. What if it was something the books didn’t cover? Other than the dance-- and the inadvisable internet searches-- there was no mention of physical contact. There was dancing, there was biting which was less for courting and more for established couples, but not... this.

He pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned, the blush on his cheeks growing slightly. “Ah. That wasn’t correct then?”

“I don’t know? What was it?”

He groaned slightly, pinching at the bridge of his nose as he spoke. “Epel had said a phrase that I didn’t quite understand, about the stomach being the key to affections. Even Vil agreed that it was correct, I thought it must be a common courting method.”

You muttered the words to yourself, trying to piece the phrase together, biting your lip hard to keep from laughing when you realized what he was talking about. “The way to someone’s heart is through their stomach?”

“Yes, that’s the one. I’m not familiar with many common language phrases.”

“Food. The way to someone’s heart is good food.”

It really was that simple. Damn it. He let out an awkward chuckle, trying to hide his embarrassed expression from you by rubbing at his eyes. “I suppose I should’ve just looked it up, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay!” You laughed, wanting to reassure him. This was going way too well for him to back out due to embarrassment now! “It’s hard to find information on what’s allegedly common knowledge! I mean, I can’t figure out that courting dance for the life of me--!”

You slapped your hand over your mouth as you realized what you were saying, watching as Jade slowly looked up at you in confusion. You wanted to cringe all the way back up to your room as you watched him mouth the word “dance,” gears turning in his head as he looked you over, before a smile grew on his face. You broke eye contact as you realized he’d clicked everything into place.

“Yuu, have you been pebbling me?” He asked, tone equal parts teasing and astonished.

Well, this was going too well for either of you to back out due to embarrassment now, you supposed. You lowered your hand, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk. “That depends, has it been working?”

He laughed, hiding it behind his fist as his eyes scrunched closed, and your heart absolutely fluttered. You really did fall hard. And so did he. He was flattered that you’d also done research on courting, relieved that you hadn’t gotten it quite right either, glad it hadn’t deterred either of you.

“It would’ve worked better if I’d know it was you, my dear.” He responded through his laughter, giving you a look of pure adoration. “Typically, you hand the items to people, not leave things for them to find themselves.”

“I wasn’t sure I was doing it right!” You defended lightheartedly.

“Well then,” he started as he held a hand out for you to take, which you did, of course, “how does dinner sound? Since food is the way to the heart.” He pulled you a little closer, tone dropping a bit as his smile grew. “Then, perhaps, I can teach you that dance.”

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland fic #mine #rossignol throw back to epel being the one who Knows #i hc epel as someone who likes to hear gossip but not spread it around #he just likes to know things #the end of this is so dialogue heavy but i didnt know how to end it for like a straight week #idk if jade is super out of character for this but i really liked making him a little awkward it was fun lol

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nanamiskentos · 6 months ago

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♩ (mdni) abstract — semi-public sex, in a library, fwb, canon!gojo x afab!reader

fwb!gojo satoru who's the cockiest man that you've ever seen. sure he's the strongest sorcerer of the modern day and age. and he's a good teacher to his students. but he doesn't give a fuck about deadlines, or being a decent coworker, or being polite and quiet in the staffroom — and it's enough to send you up the wall.

he also doesn't give a fuck about being quiet when he's drilling his solid inches into you. gojo clearly doesn't care for noise when he's got bruising fingertips pressed into your hips. when he's got your staff uniform pulled to the side so the fat tip of his cock can slap thick wisps of pre against your clit.

"ya' can feel that right, sweets," gojo's chuckling, teasing and so full of himself as he sees you sink your teeth into your lower lip, trying to keep your whines quiet, huffing and snapping at the shell of his ear.

"y'know we hafta' be quiet, right, mmph — satoru!" you don't get to finish admonishing him because he swallows your concerns in a messy kiss, all clashing teeth and tongue as he slowly pushes his fat tip past your glossy, winking entrance.

and what a sight, to know that this is how you can undo the most powerful man to walk the earth, to see his pale-pink lips drop open as his blue eyes glaze over. to know that he's losing himself in the tight heat of your pretty cunt, and he's not even halfway in yet.

"s-sorry, what was that, sweets?" he's gasping into the crook of your neck, a large hand on your thigh, manoeuvring your leg wider so he can slot his frame in between your legs, "didn't quite catch t-that, woah. it's like she's got magical powers or something." all sleazy grins and bashful smirks as he pats at the mound of your groin, right where his own hips are now tacked to yours, glistening.

"charming, satoru," you breathe out, trying not to let on that you're just as affected as he is, "b-but the students, they're gonna — hnngh," your words are cut off as he bottoms out with a slick pop! but you're never one to give up, digging your nails into the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. you thread your fingers into the soft hairs of his undercut, letting satoru practically purr above you, "they could walk in any minute, don'tcha think?"

it's clear that it's not a pressing concern to gojo right now, because he just suddenly leans back, rolling his hips slowly into yours so each angry and thick vein must be swabbing your insides, "ya' think too much, sweets. there's, hah, none on campus right n-now," and he bestows a shiny, spit-slick kiss upon your waiting lips again, "it's just you and me, ohhh — and her 'course."

you respond with a strong clench of your gummy walls around his cock, and the hand that wasn't holding your thigh up ends up slamming down hard on the oaken desk, sending books and stray papers to the floor as he huffs, "w-whoops, yer' just takin' me in sooo good, fuck, i really needed this sweets, ya' got no idea. stupid higher ups got me run dry. and you looked s-so damn good in that meeting, couldn't focus," and he's babbling now, "couldn't focus and knew i had to sneak ya' back out here, get you on my cock."

you swipe a thumb over his candy lips, all mint and sugar, as you mewl in pleasure, having him batter your guts over and over so you're imprinted against his sculpted abdomen, "you gon' pull outta me if i make a stupid joke about me milking you dry?" and gojo snickers but it quickly turns into a breathy moan, "tch, ya' don't think that's w-what i want? always so good at doin' this. why don't ya' just let me take you out properly?"

#gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo #gojo x y/n #jjk smut #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk imagines #jjk x you #daphworks

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chara-cat5 · 1 month ago

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lads college au

jealousy pre relationship

this is a college au in a normal modern universe (ours). theres no evols. gender neural mc/reader

(this is when they start realizing their feelings and if they aren't ignoring it oop 😶)

before y'all are dating or even really romantically interested. just buds. for now 👀

masterlist link

caleb-

you were just leaving class, checking your phone for any texts when someone tapped your shoulder. your met with an awkward smile and lost looking boy.

"sorry to bother you, but do you know where the science labs are?"

you hummed, a small smile on your lips as you nodded, slipping your phone back in your pocket.

"oh yeah, your in the wrong building actually. the science buildings are in the left wing of the campus. labs are in building 5. do you know which lab you're supposed to be in? i can probably tell you which floor at least.

he nodded, pulling out a paper that most likely had his class information jotted down on it to check. before you could look, an arm was suddenly around your waist and a familiar face bending down into your line of sight. caleb's head tilted down, his purple eyes locked on you as he smiled.

"hey pips, i was looking for you. did you see my texts?"

you blinked at him, slightly startled but shaking your head.

"i was helping this guy find his class."

you turned your gaze back to the now nervous man, looking at the paper.

"lab 205 is on the second floor on the left. right by the water fountain."

caleb, unbeknownst to you was absolutely glaring at this poor boy. he was frustrated how you brushed off his presence for what? this guy? how dare he steal your attention? he's standing right here and you didn't even look at the funny joke he sent!

"uh- t-thank you. i'll be on my way then..."

the boy took a step back, nodding to the two of you before rushing off. you tilted your head, about to turn back to caleb when you felt his chin rest on your shoulder.

"piiiiiips. my message? did you see it?"

you sighed softly as you pulled your phone back out, rolling your eyes.

"not yet caleb. i'll look at it right now, okay?"

he hummed softly, eyes watching you. he tugged you to start walking, leading the way to the cafeteria while you looked.

"thank you! you can laugh at it while we eat."

as the two of you walked, he couldn't help but think about the way his stomach had dropped at the sight of you smiling at the boy. it was a weird feeling- not unfamiliar- but still... to have that for you?

"it's nothing. i just don't like creeps looking at them... right?"

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zayne-

you hummed softly to yourself as you looked at the shelf, hunting a book that would be a great reference for you and zayne's project. you ran your finger over the spines, your head tilted to the side as you read them. a throat clearing made you pause, looking over to the source, a friendly looking blond.

"hey, do you mind telling me where study room 7 is?"

you returned his smile, walking to the end of the aisle where he was, voice lowered for the other library goes.

"yeah, the study rooms are down the hallway on the left. if you want room 7, you'll go out that door, turn right and go down until-"

"you were taking a while, did you get... lost..."

zayne apparently got tired of waiting, coming around the other side of the aisle, spotting you and the boy huddled together. you glanced back, waving before finishing with your directions.

"go until you see a blue door on the left. room 7 is closer to the end of the hallway."

"thank you. i thought they were in here but i guess i was wrong."

you nodded, shifting on your feet as you felt zayne's eyes on you.

"he's probably getting annoyed i'm wasting working time. i should wrap this up."

"thats understandable. anyway, i hope you find it."

he nodded with a smile, not really taking the hint to leave.

"it should be easy with your directions. i'm guessing you use the study rooms often, huh? you seem like the smart type."

"oh, uh yeah, i guess. i do use them pretty often. um, i-"

"thats cool. maybe we can share one sometime, ya know? help each other study?"

jeez was this guy talkative. and now he's bordering on pushy. thankfully a cool hand rested on your shoulder, zayne standing right behind you.

"we're actually in the middle of a project if you don't mind. also, the study rooms are by the hour so you are wasting your money the longer you chat here."

blond boy seems to deflate slightly at zayne's monotone voice, taking a needed step back.

"o-oh shoot, you're right. whelp, guess i better head, heh heh."

he turned around, speed walking his way out of the library while zayne slipped his hand off your shoulder. when you turned around he was looking at the shelf, looking for the book you were supposed to get.

"i'm sorry, zayne. he was asking for directions and i figured i could just give them to him real quick. i didn't mean to make you wait."

he hummed softly, picking up the book from the shelf, his gaze turning to you.

"there's no need to apologize. i understand. lets just get back to work."

as he led the way back to your table, he wondered if his actions came off the wrong way. would you think he was being controlling or jealous? was he jealous? no, no way, right?

"it was merely he was making her uncomfortable. i am not that immature..."

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sylus-

you were waiting for your boys to hang out with you, a plan to binge movies and eat junk food together once you got home. they hadn't seen a lot of the movies you'd grown up on and thus far, sylus's commentary had been hilarious. you were going through you bag of treats, running through the list of movies you wanted to watch.

"excuse me, do you think you can tell me where i can find this flower shop? i've been looking for hours."

you looked up to see a tired looking man, holding up his phone. you gave him a small smile, nodding as you stepped closer to look at his phone.

"sure. let see... oh, i pass that place all the time. it's just down the street on the left."

you pointed in the direction, turning your gaze back to him.

"they have the prettiest flowers really."

"yeah. my girlfriend has wanted some for a while but i can never find the shop. they make these bouquets that represent you and your relationship? i'm not sure but she's obsessed with them.

before you can respond, an arm is around your waist, tufts of white hair in the coroner of your eye.

"is he bothering you, kitten?"

before you can even shake your head, the twins are in the poor man's face, pulling strange faces to freak him out.

"are you bothering little boss?"

"back off from them!"

he took a step back, looking between the four of your faces, laughing nervously.

"i- uh- i'll just get going then. thank you for the directions."

as he fled, you glanced up at sylus with raised eyebrows. he sighed, slipping his arm from around your waist.

"thats enough boys."

he turned his gaze back to you, a slight smirk on his lips.

"apologize, sweetie. it was merely a precaution."

you sighed rolling your eyes. as you four started toward your apartment, you began bickering with the twins. sylus followed along, his gaze on you as your eyebrows pinched in annoyance. his smirk grew a little, amusement in his gaze.

"sorry, kitten, but i fear i've gotten attached."

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xaviar-

you hummed softly as you walked down the sidewalk, on your way to you and xavier's favorite hot pot place. it had become a habit really. thursdays you went out, at hot pot then played video games together. as you paused by the door, glancing at your phone to see if he was there yet, a young man stepped closer.

"um, excuse me, but can i ask for directions to a bakery by chance?"

you looked up, nodding as you pocketed your phone.

"oh, sure, what's it called?"

"thank you so much, i'm already late. i'm supposed apprentice there and- and the name! right it's call four bakery."

you nodded, pointing down the street. as you did so, you didn't notice the form almost appearing behind you, face and eyes dark.

"it's just gonna be-"

"oh- i um- t-thank you, i'll just- i'll figure it out!"

he scrambled away awkwardly, his eyes betraying his nerves.

"... i didn't even say anything yet..."

a voice behind you made you turn, meeting soft, blue eyes.

"oh, xavier! hi, you're here."

"i am. are you ready for hot pot?"

"yes! yes i'm ready."

as you got inside and ready to eat, xaiver's thoughts barely traveled.

"was that over the top scaring him? nah. what should i add to the hot pot today?"

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rafayel-

art class had just finished and you and rafayel walked out, chatting quietly. he let out a soft curse, stopping in his tracks.

"wait here, cutie, i forgot my phone."

"be quick, fish brain!"

he ran off back down the hallway while you leaned against the wall, tugging out your own phone.

"excuse me, do you know where the english literature classroom is?"

you looked up to meet this boy's gaze, putting your phone back away.

"maybe, do you know the teacher or classroom number?"

"oh yeah the teacher is mr. bell."

you nodded with a smile, lips parted to direct him when your body was tugged into a chest, their arms around yours.

"found my phone. lets go go go!"

rafayel tugged you along, making you yelp as you tried not to fall.

"raf- wait!"

he didn't let up and you only groaned, glancing back to the boy.

"it's the classroom on the right at the end of the hall!"

he smiled awkwardly, waving before moving on. as you turned to glare at the back of rafayel's head, he only pouted, tugging you along.

"seriously, cutie? i leave you for five seconds and you are already replaced me? you promised to play at the arcade with me, not whoever he was."

you sighed, rolling your eyes at his dramatic ass.

"i was just giving him directions, raf. i wasn't making plans to hang out."

he continued to pout but didn't respond, the tips of his ears turning red.

"w-whatever, lets just get going."

would he ever admit he was jealous? no, but rafayel is more open with his wants then the others.

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thank you for reading

-chara <3

#caleb x reader #lads #lads caleb #lads mc #lads rafayel #lads sylus #lads x reader #lads xavier #lads zayne #love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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shotosjupiter · 2 months ago

Text

DOWN THE HALL — R. ZORO

𖤐 swords are for losers

previous | masterlist | next

𖤐 zoro - athletic/sports science major! his mentor is professor mihawk and he is fighting with everything to get an A in his class. lives in the same apartment building as you - just five doors down across the hall.

𖤐 luffy - history major! (he likes learning about the age of the pirates, etc...) SO POPULAR ON CAMPUS, EVERYONE KNOWS THIS MAN! if there is a campus event offering food, he will be there. bugs sanji to cook him food so he can make mukbangs. is good friends with you and your friend group.

𖤐 usopp - history and law major! he's president of the archery club on campus and runs the shit like the military, HE DONT PLAYYYYY! going merry is the mascot for his archery club.

𖤐 chopper - pre-med student, he is DROWNING in assignments 24/7, free him. he is nawt a furry, sometimes you're just a reindeer trying to get higher education! perpetually in the library or doing extracurricular work for that filled up pre-med resume.

pairing — roronoa zoro x fem! reader

synopsis — when your cat suddenly disappears from your apartment, you go crazy trying to find him. only to find your beloved cat, kuro, in the arms of your hot neighbor, roronoa zoro. trying to get your cat and the heart of your neighbor proves to be a difficult mission to say the least. genre/tags — social media!au, neighbor!zoro, modern!au, crack, fluff! not much angst tbh.

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tragedy-of-commons · 6 months ago

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HOMECOMING.

── dan heng x gn!reader

summary: Your boyfriend invites you to spend Christmas break with him and his eccentric (but lovable all the same) family. You oblige.

contains: modern and university au, established relationship, comedy and tooth-rotting fluff, christmas shopping, the astral express fam all make appearances (pre-2.7), setting is very american-inspired (sorry), cringefail exuberant reader, one hurt/comfort scene

word count: 11.4k oops

taglist: @singularity-sam, @mitsvriii, @tetrachrxmacy, @bladism, @mikashisus

notes: for @azuresaqua, written for the @/stellaronhvnters secret santa 🎄 this took all month, but i hope you like it crys!! also this totally looks fine on dark mode. if you think otherwise then ummm SHHH. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

Your phone blares with its usual grating ringtone, startling you out of your reverie.

Scrambling to pick the device up, you’re pleasantly surprised. So much so that you drop the sweatshirt in your free hand mid-fold. The caller ID reads Dan Heng, lighting up your homescreen with his contact icon.

A warmth buzzes in your chest as you look it over, a giggle erupting from your throat. The selfie is of you and him, with Dan Heng looking particularly spacey in the midst of the bustling street.

You’re now considerably less bored. You’ve been looking for an excuse to procrastinate doing your laundry all day, and it just so happens to entail talking with your lovely partner. Not waiting any longer, you clear your throat, tap the green accept button, and press the speaker to your ear.

“Hi, darling!” you chirp, shifting to sit more comfortably, “I miss you. How’re you holding up? Still in the library studying the day away?”

The other line crackles with life. “Hello. I feel the same,” Dan Heng informs you matter-of-factly, his cadence clear as a river. “And no, I’m not there anymore. It was… too crowded for my liking.”

That’s no surprise. Finals are upon the whole campus in a few days, and it shows. There is a distinct, depressing atmospheric pressure that weighs upon your fellow students.

The scourge of exams, the final boss of the semester, the enemy of mental fortitude and peace. Though Dan Heng loves your university’s expansive library, you can imagine he’d be less enthralled when a hundred tired young adults are populating it to cram.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” you wince. “Well, look on the bright side. We’re almost done, yeah? Soon enough, the library will be solely your domain once again, and you can be a doll and skim the archives in my stead.”

His voice takes on a sarcastic lilt, affection hidden underneath the words like a hard-won reward. You think it’s an indulgence for him. “If my memory serves correctly, I had to smooth things over with the librarian on your behalf. I don’t think it’s a wise idea for you to loiter there any longer, as energetic as you are.”

How cheeky! Honestly, you’re not even that loud. Sometimes you laugh a little too hard at benign things (like the way some book titles sound out of context), or react too vibrantly at the wrong times (like exclaiming profanities after tripping over your own feet), but those aren’t crimes.

Even now, ruminating over this reasoning, you still don't understand how you got banned from the library. Unreal.

“Hey, come on now! I don’t even loiter… I just want to spend time with you, even if studying isn’t something I burden myself with. That guy has it out for me,” you insist, growing smile threatening to split your face in two. “Anyway, I’m not saying this to be rude, but…”

“But?” Dan Heng asks cautiously.

“You normally don’t call first. Is everything okay?”

You mean it when you ask. Though you love your boyfriend, he isn’t the best at initiating longform communication. Sometimes you’ll get a text with a link to a video he found interesting, or he’ll update you with life (mostly just classes and endless papers), and then you’ll respond by quadruple-texting and then maybe calling him. For hours. And then asking to come over to his dorm. And then falling asleep with him. All at your request, which he doesn’t seem to mind.

That being said, it’s atypical that he takes up the mantle, which makes you worry. And if you worry, Dan Heng feels guilty. Trying not to be patronizing, you patiently wait for him to speak on his own terms, humming to yourself idly. You could, y’know, do your laundry, but you’re not gonna do that. Free will is so cool and awesome.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” he assures, words measured. “I just have something I’d like to run by you, but I didn’t want to interrupt if you were busy.”

“I’m never busy! Spill!” Extremely curious, you pluck your phone from your ear and put Dan Heng on speaker. While you’re at it, you also stand up and pace the short length from your bed to the door of your suite, clothes abandoned on the floor.

“It’s about this winter break. We haven’t conferred on plans yet, but I was planning to ask you if you’d meet my… my family. Of course, it all depends on your availability - don’t feel too rushed to answer, I’d just like to know in advance so I can get things in order on my end.”

Woah, what just happened? You stop walking to think, gears spinning and grinding and pushing all sorts of implications. His family.

Dan Heng has one, yes, he divulges details every once in a while and elaborates on his mishmash of a homelife when you ask, but you’ve never heard him refer to these mystical figures as family. They’ve always been referred to as my friend, followed by their name. You know them well, committing each to memory despite not having met them yet: March, Caelus, Welt, and Himeko.

Of course, you pester your boyfriend about them. Nothing too invasive, just remembering the important details. Asking for updates about March’s creative ventures or inquiring if Himeko’s coffee has gotten any more palatable, to name a few.

In turn, Dan Heng would make a comment about how they also pester him about you. It’s like a big game of telephone - this indirect communication is what you’re used to. It’s kind of surreal to think about actually meeting them after all this time.

Then the joy comes. He wants to share this part of his life with you. Is this the natural next step in your relationship, like all seasoned married couples fondly reflect back on? Dan Heng wants to spend three and half weeks with you, uninterrupted, at home. His home.

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them away, grinning like an absolute fool. Does he really think you’ll say no? You’d already do anything to make him happy. Despite being several buildings and crosswalks away from him right now, your hearts feel impossibly close together.

(It’s not like you have anything else planned.)

That thought is pushed away as quickly as it comes. No time for you to be bitter when it’s the season of giving and all things cheerful! This opportunity is nothing short of a blessing… you’re saved from being cramped up inside the inevitably deserted hall for the entirety of break. You’re saved from having to admit to Dan Heng that I have nowhere to go and nothing to do like everyone else.

Shock, joy, relief.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, breathy. With a repressed-young-man-trained-ear, you catch a soft sigh of relief dissipating on the other line. “Yes, of course I want to meet them! Dude, this is so exciting! What if I died? What if I blew up the entirety of campus in my merriment? What then?”

He is far too used to your theatrics to react too strongly to them at this point. “...I wouldn’t put it past you. But I’m glad you said yes. There’s just the issue of details to work out.”

Dan Heng proposes different times on different days to leave. Well, he probably went more in depth than that - he likes to schedule and plan for the future, even if he doesn’t always stick to those self-imposed regulations in the end - probably droning on about the cost of gas or something. But you’re way too shell-shocked to respond coherently, muffling squeals and noncommittal hums that give away exactly how much you’re not paying attention.

Digesting about half of the information, you bring up what you have left to do before winter break after he does the same: registration for next semester’s classes, turning in textbooks for certain courses (thank the stars renting is affordable here), and the remaining days riddled with finals.

Despite how daunting these tasks are for others, you find yourself enjoying the denouement. Guessing on scantrons has gotten you pretty far, and the other obligations can be swiftly eliminated through sheer will and lots of Christmas music. Your Spotify listening history must look like some kind of tinsel-festooned warzone.

This will be your first ever Christmas with Dan Heng. He’s never been extremely festive by any means, but you cajoled him into a matching Halloween costume a month ago, and he is fond of horror movies despite how silly they can be, offering little bits of trivia or his critiques on the film’s score.

You think this holiday, spent at his home, in his hometown - will be the source of many happy memories. It’ll also, hopefully, be another endless source of teasing.

Images flit through your mind, the most notable of which being your stoic boyfriend in a truly hideous red and green sweater. You snicker to yourself until your amusement is disturbed by Dan Heng promptly clearing his throat.

He says your name in that soft way that makes you weak in the knees. You’re under his spell just as much as he is under yours. You should take to reminding him of that more often. “Just to be clear, is this alright with you?”

It’s so much more than alright, you think. Winter, for all of its bitter cold and unforgiving responsibilities, still teems with life as the leaves die. For every day you’ve spent alone during the last two Christmases, you’ll be repaid with one in kind spent with Dan Heng and the people he trusts most.

You’re blessed with the sweet thought that you’re now a part of those treasured, trustworthy few as well.

You know you’ve been treasured for a long time, but feeling it actualized, solidified in action, is as homey and warm as a burning hearth.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am, darling. I’m so excited that I think I’m shaking!”

You tighten your grip on your phone, almost leaving indents in the shitty case, attempting to still your vibrating fingers. His response is a mumble along the lines of you should probably eat something, and I’m glad. Dan Heng can be a little awkward, especially over the phone, but that just speaks of his sincerity. He’s glad you’re coming.

You scuttle over to the window beside your bed, yanking the blinds askew to peek outside. A glimpse of the first frost coating the student parking lot promises something more. Something magical and childlike.

Joy. You have a feeling you’re going to be extremely insufferable to any and all scrooges (people rightfully sick of dealing with your chipper attitude) in the coming days. Oh well, they can suck it up because it’s the most wonderful time of the year, and you’re in love with the most amazing person in the world.

You tell him not to worry, which he sighs at, and then the brunt of the conversation is over. The following silence is calm but electric, dragging on for just the right amount of time. A well-deserved respite, you think.

“I love you,” you confess.

“...I love you too. Touch base soon.”

With that, the call ends abruptly. Your cheeks feel hot and you’re reinvigorated, daydreaming of Dan Heng’s expressions obscured by distance - you want nothing more than to see him, but you know your partner well enough to realize when he needs a break; to realize when he needs his alone time. You would never begrudge him for it.

That was a fucking whirlwind.

You shove your phone in your pocket after nudging the blinds back in place. There’s so much to do, and you’re definitely gonna need another run-down of the schedule (preferably in person), but for now, you’ll let yourself be over the moon and overrun with task paralysis.

Triumphantly, you turn to flip off your abandoned pile of laundry. Free will is so cool and awesome.

“We are so back!”

You’re so impatient that you’ve started counting the hours.

The final stretch is a lot more boring than you thought it was going to be. Picking a time to check out of your dorm, fixing up any scuffs on the walls from your shitty posters before room inspection, actually passing your classes. The normal stuff.

Both you and Dan Heng decided that you would leave at around three in the morning on the first day of break. It sounded bewildering at first, and you had levelled him with a look that made him hurriedly elaborate.

“In order to get there at a reasonable time, it’s the best way to go,” he’d said over coffee. “The drive isn’t more than a few hours, but if we leave right after routine inspection, we’d be arriving in the middle of the night.”

Though the mental image of showing up on a quaint little home’s doorstep in your pajamas and waking up the whole neighborhood with your knocking is funny, it’s not funny enough to quell your nerves.

You’ve noticed, usually in the midst of trying to be productive, that the excitement is weighing heavily on your heart. Your hands are perpetually shaky, you’re sweating disgusting buckets, and you’re sure you look as if you’ve lost your marbles to any soul brave enough to strike up conversation.

That last part came to your attention when Bronya, your desk neighbor in your Interpersonal Communications class, dared ask you if she could borrow a pencil. She barely got the question out before she asked if you were alright. And if Bronya asks you if you’re alright, it means that you must look terrible.

Sure enough, you are getting less and less sleep, and you’ve been prone to twitching. In retrospect, you probably had that wild look in your eye that screamed I am at rock bottom and it’s in the public’s best interest that I’m contained.

But you’re not at rock bottom! You’re just nervous, and it’s weird when you’re nervous, because such an occurrence is as rare as a blue moon. You’re going to be meeting Dan Heng’s family in a matter of days, and you’re expected to behave as a normal, functioning member of society. Unbelievable. Even the love of your life has noticed the difference in your behavior - he seems disturbed but respectful.

You recall him asking if you were ill, which you had vehemently denied. Then he kissed you under the thin covers of his bed, and everything was fine for a moment.

But you think you’re feeling better on this day in particular. To distract yourself from the anxiety, you’ve sunk deeper into the holiday cheer. With Dan Heng at your side, you’ve blown off classes for the day to go gift shopping. The outlet mall near your university is always bustling, but during this time of year, you’d think there’s an overpopulation crisis wreaking havoc on your city.

Escalators are crammed with excited children dragging their parents along, there are decorations painstakingly put up in every nook and cranny, and you have a mission to see through.

“Thanks for ditching to help me out,” you preface. “It’d be way too difficult to shop for your family on my own. Just the idea of stress-buying things they may not even like… ugh. Also, wow! I realized you haven’t told me jack shit about them! I’m actually clueless.”

Dan Heng is not amused, but he doesn’t outright refute your assertion. “I suppose you have a point. And I didn’t ditch class,” he emphasizes, ears red. “Psychology got canceled.”

Here, among the sea of people, Dan Heng looks his least confident. While you, the person known for befriending every stray cat you meet, look your best.

The juxtaposition makes you feel fuzzy, and you know in your heart that he would've helped you anyway, even if he had class. He can be so obvious but so subtle at the same time. You tug on the sleeve of his sweatshirt once, purely affectionate.

“Right. Uh, where do we start? Who’s the easiest to shop for?” you wonder aloud, crossing the stretches of marble and doing your best to peer down the massive store-lined strip. “We could start with March. She’s into crafty stuff, right?”

Your boyfriend tames a cowlick in his dark hair. “Yes. You seem to have a plan figured out already, but she uses up heaps of film while taking photos. An arts and crafts store would likely have the 600 type for her Polaroid. That’s what I had in mind in terms of a gift she’d appreciate.”

“We seem to be on the same page, but that just sounds so… impersonal! Bit of a safe choice, don’t you think? Let’s play it by ear and see what they have. I’m sure she’d also appreciate something handmade. I think I have enough time to DIY a gift; they probably have kits for all sorts of stuff.”

Dan Heng is starting off in the direction of the correct storefront. The display window is easily spotted, plastered with all kinds of paper mache ornaments. “You don’t need to fret. Knowing her, she’ll love anything that comes from you.”

You blink, grinning. “Really? Didn’t know I was so popular.”

“You have no idea,” sighs Dan Heng.

Warmly titled Make n’ Create, the door chimes, signifying your entry. Immediately, you’re assaulted by the smell of candles - a few hundred thousand, you hazard.

Scents of vanilla and evergreen paired with cinnamon burn your nostrils as you survey the aisles of winding shelves overflowing with endless possibilities. Almost forgetting to return the greeting of the woman behind the counter, you snap out of your stupor and drag your boyfriend along.

Everything looks enticing… your savings account is telling you to be responsible, but your heart is telling you to snatch up and squirrel away any item of interest just in case. You wander the marble floor under the bright fluorescents, humming under your breath. “Hey, we can probably save some time and split up. Could you go look for the film? We’ll definitely get that along with whatever catches my eye.”

Relieved to have something to do, Dan Heng nods and disembarks from your side, perilously weaving between other shoppers buzzing with excitement. He mentioned that he deliberately put off Christmas shopping since you insisted on doing it together, the thought alone satisfying.

The prospect of scrawling both of your names on the same box, passed off into eager hands. The words will read From: Dan Heng and his partner.

Rounding a corner, the pottery and ceramics section calls to you like a siren. There are stocks upon stocks of white, unpainted Christmas trees and wreaths, advertised as blank canvases to decorate as your own - paint included. Those are cute, but something relevant year-round would probably be received better.

Impressions, impressions. Your gaze drops lower, dutifully searching…

Aha!

Ceramic jewelry dishes. Same gimmick as the trees and wreaths, but not necessarily seasonal. There are a few different types among the kits - heart-shaped, some with hinges that open and close, even some with music box elements with heftier price tags.

Your intuition slaps you across the face multiple times. March will love one of these, you just know it! Cautious, you spare a shifty glance from left to right before squealing to yourself. The package in your hand is crisp and promising as you check over the price and instructions.

Dan Heng returns to witness your perfect find. You know this because you recognize the soft padding of his footsteps anywhere (which is not creepy). You turn to see him and the fond look in his eye - and the aforementioned packages of film he’s clutching.

“Hey, you,” you chuckle. “You found it, great! Anyway, look what I stumbled upon. Do you think she’ll--” “Yes,” he breathes, suddenly decisive. “She will. Especially the heart one.”

Quickly heeding the ever-rare suggestion from Dan Heng, you discard the now inferior package and seize the heart-shaped one. “I trust your judgment. She has good taste, honestly. Thanks for your help, love, I appreciate it. I know for a fact she likes pink, and though my hands are a little clumsy… I’ll make a masterpiece outta this, trust me.”

He exhales through his nose. That’s a laugh if you’ve ever heard one. “You sound so resolute…”

“Duty-bound, if you will,” you grin. “We can move on to the next place if you’d like. Didn’t expect to be done here so fast.”

“...wait.”

You tilt your head, following his line of sight back to the shelves. He seems transfixed on something else there, and a few seconds go by in silence as you’re left to figure out what it is on your lonesome.

Dan Heng has gotten better at speaking his mind - he was never bad at it, but sometimes words get tangled up in his reticent hesitation. You understand this well. So, you try to determine what’s caught his eye. The understanding you come to is a nice one. The lowest rung of the shelf, almost overshadowed, are more ceramics - no surprise there. But it feels like fate the way that they’re displayed; two sturdy coffee cups with intricate handles, then a miniature raccoon forever inlaid with a devilish expression, practically commanding a paintbrush to make its mischievous grin come to life with color.

Himeko, Welt, Caelus.

You laugh, loud and bright, grabbing your boyfriend’s hand with a conspiratorial grin. “Four birds with one stone, huh? We’re gonna need a cart!”

Dan Heng is blushing. It’s subtle, not at all burning or obvious to any nosy bystanders, but it’s enough to make your heart sing with delight. You take it he’s glad that you picked up on his thoughts so wordlessly.

He excuses himself after muttering something about going to get the cart while you smile like an idiot. A lovestruck idiot. A lovestruck idiot with a soon-to-be overdrawn bank account.

…well, not exactly. After you gather everything and go to check out, he insists on paying for all of it. You make sure to argue with him in front of the very amused cashier, reaching a compromise in no time at all thanks to your amazing negotiation skills. He’ll pay for this load (whatever), and you’ll pay for any remaining splurges today. It’s only natural you need to stop by a few more places, considering March has two gifts while the others only have one.

By the time Dan Heng’s social battery is drained and yours is frayed, you have everything. An apparel outlet that you would’ve never stepped foot in normally now has your patronage; a golden brooch in the shape of a rose (that’s surprisingly affordable) for Himeko, a classy but patterned tie for Welt, and a trendy jacket for Caelus.

You think you’re the most jealous of that last one - it has many pockets and takes up enough space to suffocate a small orphan.

Hauling the bags into the icy parking lot, you suddenly stop in your tracks, feeling the generous weight of your spending in the process. “Hold on.”

Your tired but loving partner heeds your command. “What? Is something the matter?”

“We forgot to shop for each other,” you point out, sheepish and breathy. Seems you’ve both been so caught up in the tradewinds that you forgot. “Should we go back inside?”

“No,” he blurts, “I’ve already acquired your gift.”

Gobsmacked, you almost drop your share of the bags. He’s been holding out on you?! The surprise quickly fades into mushy limerence before it dulls. “Huh? When did you do that? Oh shit, I haven’t gotten you anything yet… dude, I’m sorry, I’ll head back inside, all secret mission-esque and find you something while you wait in the car--”

Dan Heng shakes his head. “You… you don’t have to.”

The hell? Does he even know how Christmas works? “Of course I do, come on,” you push forward. Knowing you’ve already forgotten where you’ve parked, he strides out in front of you and leads the way, preparing to argue his case. “We’ll put these in the back, and I’ll find you an amazing gift, you’ll see.”

You both reach his little beat-up sedan (which you’ve aptly named Granny), while he fumbles for his keys. He sighs, rolling the frigid joints in his shoulders as he opens the driver’s seat to unlock the trunk. Setting the bags down on the gross pavement is unfortunately inevitable. You throw the thing open, already loading.

Dan Heng’s rebuttal is almost startling.

“I don’t need an ‘amazing gift’. I have you.”

You freeze. Where did he pull that from? Are you hallucinating again? Is this like the time you stayed up for two days straight to half-ass a dozen unfinished assignments? Or maybe it’s selective hearing… such a line is probably from an old romcom that you’re mentally regurgitating and then projecting onto him.

But you don’t tease or ask him to repeat it. Instead, you choose to fully believe and embrace that compliment, warming your heart and your cheeks. His expression is obscured from your position, but he probably looks the same.

“I’m… really glad you think so, Dan Heng,” you almost whisper.

Before he can say anything else that’ll ruin the moment, you decide that’s your job! and slam the trunk closed, deafeningly loud.

“But that’s unacceptable! I’ll find you something perfect in the coming days no matter what!”

You hear him sigh before you hear his approaching footsteps. “Try not to stress too hard about it. Also, open that back up, there are more bags.”

“Oops,” you giggle. “Why not ask me nicely, like in that Romeo way you did five seconds ago?”

Your other half rightfully elects to ignore you.

As you finish wrapping up with him at your side, the subsequent ride back to campus is in comfortable silence. The buzz of what’s to come lingers on your mind as you stare out of the passenger window at the familiar scenery. You’ll find time to squeeze in finding a gift for Dan Heng, you’ll make sure of it.

But for now, what to pack for the impending trip…?

You wake to the sound of your blaring alarm. Scrambling for your phone to make the thing shut up, you’re blinded by the time. It’s 2:30 in the morning, you’re disoriented, and you desperately want to go back to sleep. But when you really come to a minute later after hitting snooze, it all sinks in.

Your room inspection is over with, your finals have been taken (you didn’t fail any of them, yay), and you have to leave campus with Dan Heng in about thirty minutes. Surreal that you’re awake at this hour, you go about getting ready - this includes texting the man of the hour to make sure he didn’t oversleep.

To your satisfaction, he responds swiftly. To your horror, he mentions that he’s ready and waiting. Unfair, in your opinion - why is he always punctual, and why are you always late?

You look in the mirror at your haphazard reflection. Not too shabby; just a leisure t-shirt and some sweatpants, pulled together by the thickest jacket you have since it’s grown even colder out. Your bags are already packed and practically bursting at the seams, loaded with your essentials, and of course the presents for Dan Heng’s family.

You spent all of your free time crammed between everything else painting the ceramics while he wrapped and made everything else look pretty.

(You almost got crudely mixed pink paint on your dorm wall - well, you did just a little bit. Luckily it came off without the need to go sprinting to the nearest hardware store in pursuit of a cover-up job. That would have been bad. Very bad. Also, you left the primary suite door open to ventilate, and at least three students walking down the hallway witnessed your perfectionism-driven breakdown. Also, your suitemate hates you now.)

All of that’s over, though. Making sure you have everything once, then twice, then three whole times - you decide it’s finally time to go. You lug everything out of your dorm, down the hallway, into the elevator, and wait as it descends.

You check your phone, updating your boyfriend as the cabin grinds to a halt on the ground floor. Outside is nothing short of beautiful, if not hypothermic.

Snow falls in tiny flurries that make the dark cement purgatory look like a dream. The floodlights leave some corners of the parking lot shadowed, but illuminate Dan Heng just right. You spot him and his old ass car smack dab in the middle of all the empty spaces, just about everyone having vacated already.

“Hi, darling,” your breath syncs with the air as a wispy cloud. You kiss his cheek. “You ready?”

“I have been for the better part of an hour,” he informs you, perhaps a little grumpy from waking up so early - or it could just be that wry sarcasm rearing its head.

You find that Dan Heng is neither an early bird nor a night owl, oscillating between the two like nobody’s business. He’s up when he needs to be, including now, softened under the touch of your lips.

And so, without much fanfare, the road trip commences. It’s notably different than the other times he’s chauffeured you around - so silent and grave. It kind of puts a damper on the Christmas spirit you’ve so painstakingly adopted, but you think twice about cranking the radio. He is the one driving, after all.

You offered to switch with him halfway, and to his credit, he thought about it. But then Dan Heng politely shook his head and muttered something about bad weather and hydroplaning. Whatever a hydroplane is, you aren’t sure what it has to do with you being untrustworthy behind the wheel.

The pleasant blast of the heater, the occasional robotic warbling from the GPS app, and the noise of the light drizzle outside are your more talkative companions. You’re getting antsy; you feel it in the bouncing of your leg and how you mindlessly chew on the dead skin of your bottom lip.

Should you try to ignore it? Put on your headphones and tune out? The thought is appealing.

Instead, you pipe up a few minutes before you’re due to turn on the interstate.

“Wanna get coffee?” you singsong. “I mean, you especially are going to need the caffeine to keep awake. Sleep deprivation is, like, the number three reason people get into car crashes.”

Dan Heng huffs in amusement. You’re glad that got some kind of reaction out of him, glad that the stoney silence has been broken. But if you’re being completely honest with yourself (which you really hate doing), this detour suggestion is just an excuse to delay the inevitable. For all of your joy, lingering anxiety chips away at your trademark smirk.

You decide to bribe him just a little. “I’m buying.”

He turns into the nearest place without any further prodding. The coffee, which you have successfully paid for by the way, is nice. The searing light of the menu options, clambering over Dan Heng to place your orders as loud as you can because you know it’s hard for them to hear anything - fleeting memories of taking orders at your high school part-time job and all that.

As you take the cup holder tray from your partner, ferried through the drive thru window, he speaks up, much to your chagrin.

“You’re nervous,” he says, leaving no room for doubt. You continue to situate the drinks and glance into the side view mirror, taking a sudden rapt interest in the line forming behind you.

You decide to lie. Maybe he’ll be merciful and let you work this one out on your own. “Me? Nervous? Whatever gives you that impression? Perhaps you needed the coffee more than I thought… poor Dan Heng, so tired that he’s hallucinating…” you whistle.

Gaslighting, unfortunately, doesn’t work. Persuasion check must’ve rolled off. Dan Heng says your name, soft but stilted in a way that makes your heart ache. He rolls out of the drive thru after checking the rearview mirror, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. They gain their color back after he realizes you’re staring at them.

“I’m nervous too. Extremely.” You’re back on the highway, and you fiddle with the GPS to get yourself back en route, taking in his words as they come. Dan Heng is being candid with you; encouraging. “Going back home is always an… ordeal.”

You deflate a bit, conflict warring on your face. Considering how flustered he gets when you dote on him, albeit within his limits, you can’t imagine how exhausting being fussed at from all angles would be. Not like he’s a kid, but that he’s returning home after another semester of being independent.

“Yeah, um, I can imagine. I don’t know much about that stuff, but it’ll probably be amplified with me coming with you. We’ll get through it together and have a great time.”

You say it to convince yourself more than him, but it works. Perhaps that was his plan all along?

“Yes,” agrees Dan Heng. “We will.”

The interstate stretch, predictably, is the most sizable chunk of the trip. Temptation whispers in your ears tantalizingly, the idea of a nap or two at the forefront of your sleep-addled mind. The soft pitter-patter of the rain against the windshield battling with the snow makes it even harder to resist.

So, you doze soundly in your reclined seat, nice and warm. You think you feel a hand, cold and calloused, brushing against your cheek, but fighting it would require waking up to demand he focus on the road! It retracts, and you’re out for a good long while.

You know that for a fact, because when you wake up, dawn is encroaching. The stars are still visible against the bleeding horizon. You feel much better, even if Dan Heng suppresses a smile at your expense - you seriously must look wrecked from a few simple hours of rest. Geez.

You yawn, waking up to chat. Your boyfriend looks unruffled, cool eyes scanning road signs for a place to apparently fuel up.

He tells you that there’s only about an hour or so left, the ETA checking out. Nerves flood your system, but after a deep breath and stepping out to stretch your legs, you feel better.

“Who knew you were so good at pep talks,” you tease, if not to hide the fact you’re completely enamored with him. You fill up the tank after he cuts the engine, purposefully yelling so he can hear your words through the rolled up windows. “My man, the motivator!”

You hear his ensuing groan, claiming mental victory as the pump dings. Easy.

Staring at the signs of his hometown, a foreign sense of wonder engulfs you as you split from the interstate. Has that diner been there since Dan Heng was a kid? Did he even spend all of his childhood in one place? Should you ask, or is that too invasive?

The trees lining the grassy outcrops are tiny and thin, likely just having been planted by the city. How much has changed since you’ve started monopolizing his time?

Your questions spill out, and he does his best to answer them - but he also seems nostalgic, wistful and pained. Your earlier revelation rings true; you don’t know much about Dan Heng’s past.

That’s slowly changing as he tells you some stories, though his words are messy and create a muddled image in your head. You don’t push too far, chattering his ear off in response to keep things lighthearted.

(Maybe you’ll be more open about yourself too. Maybe.)

Then you careen into a residential area. It’s more suburban than you expected for a city-town hybrid of this size, streets of apartment units and then gated communities of houses. You whistle because you’re almost there, you can feel it!

“Which one is it, huh?” you pester, practically pressing your face against the glass. “Come on, pick up the pace a little!”

“I am not keen on getting a ticket this far in. A few more turns.”

True to his word, a row of townhouses come into view. They’re not massive, but the few you see are brimming with character. Full, decadent awnings and aged brick matched with just the right colors to make your brain happy. They look lived in, filled with memories that you’re eager to digest and, hopefully, be a part of.

Dan Heng pulls into the driveway of the oldest-looking one and parks. The GPS drones on, informing you of your arrival. Your anxiety has almost entirely abated at this point, thank the heavens and stars, and it’s near time to face the music with open arms.

“What a nice place! I guess we should greet them, and then start unloading?”

He nods. It’s still cold out, but less so than at school. Stepping out onto the pavement gives you a little thrill, and you trail behind Dan Heng, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets as you stare at the front door.

It has a little brass knocker in lieu of a doorbell, and you reach out to grasp it on instinct. Your hand brushes his that had reached out at the same time.

You wiggle your eyebrows at him.

He sighs and finally knocks after you reel your grubby hand back. It all comes down to this - kind of anticlimactic from someone else’s perspective, but paramount from yours. Who will answer the door?

The answer is immediate: Welt. The thing creaks open, revealing a tall, older man with graying brown hair and glasses. He’s utilizing a cane and looks exactly like you imagined, distinguished and fitting right into the scene with his creme turtleneck and kind eyes. He regards you both, first Dan Heng, then you.

“You’re here early. Welcome back - and I see you’ve brought them, as promised,” Welt’s voice is warm, and you get the feeling the small smile he’s wearing is quite rare. “Come in, we’ve been waiting on you two. It’s an honor to meet Dan Heng’s esteemed partner.”

You’re utterly awestruck, responses forming on your tongue only to dissolve into garbled nothings. As you robotically follow inside, you watch as Dan Heng falls into an awkward-looking side hug with Welt - quickly averting your eyes so they can have a moment. Then, you can’t contain it anymore, speaking to your heart’s content.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot - well, not a lot, but enough,” you ramble unapologetically, taking in the decor of the foyer, “and I’m really excited to be here, you have no idea. Are those Ray Bans? You have a lovely home!”

Your boyfriend, wetting his chapped lips, communicates silently with Welt. You think it’s something like a greeting, a familial synergy you can’t quite grasp yet. Maybe it’s a warning: I am dating an idiot chatterbox, please be nice to them.

That seems unlikely; necessitates further observation. This is just like Animal Planet.

“Thank you, I recognize your sincerity. It’s a rare trait, these days,” he mutters mostly to himself, probably reminiscing on some mysterious past. He goes on to curtly answer your more frivolous questions while leading the two of you deeper inside. Dan Heng squeezes your hand and you share your own telepathic glance with him.

This is going well!

The interior of the living room is striking, bearing the marks of age and care. You recognize most of the furniture as antiques - leather couches and loveseats with beautiful upholstery, a sage grandfather clock standing tall near the stone fireplace, and overflowing bookshelves that’d satiate even the most voracious of readers.

Paintings adorn every wall, not a square inch left blank. The mantle boasts many trinkets and baubles of various cultures, some of which you recognize - and some of which you don’t. Those could definitely be a great conversation starter!

So charming, so quaint, so rich in history! You’d wax poetic and stare at each nifty little thing until your eyes bled if you could.

“Darling, I didn’t know you were so well-off! Maybe I should start calling you Mr. Old Money.” “...please don’t.”

Welt hides a chuckle in his gloved hand before surveying the room. “It seems everyone is doing their own thing. I’ll go get Himeko, she must be in her study,” he throws a look over his shoulder, uttering your name with just the right amount of phlegm. “Welcome. Don’t be afraid to make yourself at home.”

And you’re left alone to breathe for a short minute. You run your thumb over Dan Heng’s knuckles reverently, pondering aloud. “He’s so cool! He’s an animator, right? I’ve heard you mention something like that before.”

He nods. “Indeed. He’s worked on various pitch bibles for all kinds of IPs, but he’s more content on assuming quieter roles in the industry, or so he’s told us. His passion is what carries him, not the spotlight.”

“...that’s a great way to live,” you marvel. The air feels vulnerable after that, the nature of something as intangible as family running through the undercurrents of the house. “Do you think he’s right for being so humble?”

“It is not my place to comment, but… I can say that I look up to him,” he admits, giving your hand a shy squeeze. “Himeko is similar. She’s--” “--enthralled to finally meet your acquaintance?”

A new voice cuts in. Himeko is also a vision, donning a winter shawl that wraps around a sepia-colored dress with tights, topped off with a beret. She looks absolutely stunning, and you’re overwhelmed with the urge to compliment her profusely. She stands at a comparable height to Welt, expression softened with mirth.

“It’s long since overdue,” Himeko extends a handshake which you take. Your jaw must be scraping the floor, which Welt and Dan Heng see fit to ignore.

She whips a ruby curl out of her face to scrutinize you - shit, you probably should’ve worn something nicer. First impressions and all that!

She greets Dan Heng with a hardy embrace after letting your hand go. He stands rigid.

“I was beginning to think he was making you up,” she teases. “When you both settle in, we have a lot to catch up on. Can we help you with your bags?”

You grin at your boyfriend, nudging him with your elbow. “Whaddya say, huh?”

He nods, shoulders slumping as if he’s made it past some great obstacle.

“Great,” Welt interjects, heading back towards the front door with Himeko in tow. Dan Heng turns to you, voice akin to a whisper.

“March and Caelus are probably in their bedrooms or,” he sighs, “conspiring elsewhere. If you’d like, you can go on and look around while we deal with the luggage. It’s a lot to get used to, and you’re better off getting your curiosity out of your system.”

You gasp, splaying a hand over your heart. “You say that like I’m some unruly child! I’m not going to break anything…”

Dan Heng gives you a look.

“...this time,” you begrudgingly add.

Before he can hurry after them though, you gingerly (roughly) grab him by the collar and give him a smooch. It’s over as quick as it began, and you barely get a glimpse of his scandalized visage before you set off to explore.

The adjoining hallway leading you out of the living room is painted stark white, all kinds of framed photographs hanging on display. Most of them are noir shots of famous people; movie stars, historical figures and the like. You stop in your tracks to look each of them over.

Some aren’t so impersonal. For example, there’s one of Himeko standing in a train station, posing on the platform with a massive and austere steam locomotive behind her. There is also a gray-haired dude at her side, pointing at the train with an exaggerated expression of shock. Caelus. And the photo’s signature - March 7th.

Right on time, before you can continue snooping, you hear the distinct noise of bickering further down the hallway. You grin, sensing drama like a blood-sniffing shark.

The muffled racket becomes clearer as you approach what is probably a bedroom door, and you hesitate for only a second before not-rudely throwing it open. You can deal with the consequences later. After all, this sounds more like banter than a serious argument - you would know!

The first thing you see are two figures with their backs turned to you. Pink and gray hair hunched over a desk - Caelus sitting and clicking furiously with March pointing at the one of the three flashing monitors, posing a threat to this hell of a gamer setup.

“You actually suck at this! Log off already, Dan Heng and his guest are going to be here soon,” she chastises as Caelus huffs, him dying moments later (in Pac-Man of all things). “Seriously, this is as boring as watching paint dry. I don’t know how you have so many viewers…”

You blink, scrutinizing the monitors again. Yes, there’s Pac-Man, but there’s also a live chat that seems to be going crazy, dozens of messages burying even more dozens of messages. There’s a facecam too, framing all three of you - wait, three?

Oops. You’re live on Twitch.

“March is just a grade-A hater,” Caelus declares to his audience, “always betting against me. I’ll have all of you know that I, Whisperer of Dumpsters, Toilet Destroyer--”

A groan. “Not this again.”

They seem oblivious to the fact that you’re here, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh. Clippers must be going nuts right about now…

Dan Heng never mentioned that Caelus took this career path - but then again, you can imagine he was trying to avoid the headache of you pestering him with stream references. Either way, you’re here now, and you’ll be damned if you pass up an opportunity this golden.

“They’ve been keeping me in the basement for three years!” you yell, causing both of them to jump and turn in bewilderment, “They’re frauds, kidnappers, liars--”

“We’ve been what?!” March shrieks. She’s either 1.) quickly adjusting to your improv and playing along or 2.) now wholeheartedly convinced that you’ve been held captive here under the floorboards.

The chat lags from how fast messages are coming in, and Caelus cackles maniacally before mashing a shortcut on his keyboard to switch to a Be Right Back screen. What a performance, and you also burst out in laughter, not unlike his.

“Well, you certainly uh… made an entrance,” March grimaces, looking only slightly mortified. That sourness fades into a friendly smile as she scratches the back of her head. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Oh my god, c’mere!”

Caelus stares at you with beady eyes as she bounds towards your form in the doorway, engulfing you in a giant hug. You feel like crying again. This was supposed to be unserious, but you can’t help but already feel at home.

“It’s nice to meet you too. Your hair clips are so cute!”

You exchange pleasantries for a moment before you hear creaking. Caelus has stood up now, an unreadable expression on his face as he approaches slowly - like molasses slowly. One menacing stomp in front of the other like he’s trying to intimidate a bear. You tilt your head curiously while March spins around to look at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Group hug. Bring it in,” he answers cryptically.

March wrinkles her nose. “Why do you sound like that? You’ll creep them out!”

Caelus turns to you, looking for confirmation. Immediately, you understand what you must do. This chemistry you share with this kindred spirit should be studied in a lab under a microscope.

“Collective embrace,” you parrot. “Bring it in.”

“...so you’re both weird, huh? Just great.”

You respond by smushing both of them in a crushing hug, a chorus of giggles echoing off the walls, all three of you being the perpetrators.

This year’s holidays are off to a great start.

Things surprisingly don’t drag on.

What that means is a little hard to quantify; nebulous like carbon monoxide. You can’t see it, you can’t taste it, but it certainly takes its toll.

The first day comes to a close after a shared dinner, a feast, really - you’d never seen so much food in your life and you scarfed it down like a starving man in between conversation on every topic under the sun. You’ve fallen into the swing of things so naturally, and while that’s good, it’s a little too good.

You’ve never considered anxiety to be a formidable foe in your life. You carry conversation, pass the cornbread, spice up everyone’s lives (sometimes at the detriment of your reputation), and most importantly, you do it with a smile.

But after a night or two spent in Dan Heng’s almost spartan bedroom, tossing and turning, you’re starting to believe you’re in more trouble than you thought previously.

The nerves are easy to suppress when you’re bouncing energy off someone else, lost in the moment, because you do truly enjoy the socializing - but that feeling lingers.

And when you’re left with nothing to do, staring at the ceiling with a vengeance on the third night of your stay, all of the doubt catches up. It gains ground until your heart thunders in your chest.

You’ve learned that Himeko is buddy-buddy with the department of transportation, doubling as an engineer and cartographer. She’s even had a part in restoring defunct trains to their former glory, spearheading many vacations along the way.

(You don’t deserve to be privy to such a meaningful story.)

Caelus can’t ride a bike. Neither can you. Upon coming to this seismic revelation, he offered to take the plunge with you in an attempt to learn if you were interested. You agreed before he could even get the full sentence out.

(You’re only good at goofing around.)

March insisted that you be a temporary proofreader for her own university essays, most of which being on topics you could never wrap your head around in a million years.

Shenanigans ensued until you ended up denouncing higher education as a whole, choosing to believe in her own freestyle structure rather than whatever hellish rubric was being peddled.

(You’re too airheaded to help in a normal way.)

You’ve even grown closer with Welt. You two listened to the crackling of the old gramophone in his respective study, chiming in with your own thoughts on his archaic but classic music taste. There was a little bit of discussion on media preservation, your earnest passion pairing well with his own.

(You’re coming off too strong.)

But you feel the worst about the man sleeping next to you.

You’re supposed to be in your highest spirits, but Dan Heng has gotten good at spotting your tells. The tightness of your smile comes off as overjoyed to your new friends, but strained to him. The guilt of possibly ruining it all is unforgiving, tightened about your neck like an evil scarf.

He knows something’s up, and you know that he knows. It’s on you for not being forward about your struggles - hell, you’ve scolded him countless times about how he clams up about feelings and all that mess. You’re just a little bit of a hypocrite, then. What would you even say on the subject?

Sorry I’m such a buzzkill? Sorry I haven’t been more open with you? Sorry that I’m the actual wors--

You muffle a sob, burying your face in Dan Heng’s pillow. You just need to calm down, even if that means getting snot on his nice shams. You hiccup, and to your muted horror, the mattress creaks with movement.

Voice rough with sleep and alarm, Dan Heng calls out to you. You tense but otherwise refuse to lift your head up from your comfy sanctuary, chest rising and falling in snappy bursts.

You can’t face him like this, so tangled in everything you feel. You feel so unbelievably guilty, even if a more sensible part of you knows you’re just overthinking.

“Please look at me.”

If you’re making comparisons, Dan Heng must be the wind. Gentle and mild like a calming gale, never a torrent eager to knock you off your feet. No, he is sobering like a wayward breeze. His plea is so soft, and you only hate yourself a little bit for giving in and meeting his eyes.

His hair is sticking up in every direction just like yours. It’s not a foreign sight - you’ve slept in the same bed at least a hundred times, but the worried frown tugging at his lips is new. You sniffle and wipe your face, words a jumble of nonsense.

“Try to breathe. It’s going to be alright,” he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’ll wait.”

That last part might sound impatient in some other context, but right now, it’s resolute - it’s a promise. He’ll wait until you’re ready, however long that will take.

You crumble, shakily inhaling and exhaling until you sit up to mirror his stance. You fumble to embrace him, which he accepts readily - not unused to your spontaneous acts of affection.

However, there’s a stutter in his movements. He’s not used to seeing you so put out, you hazard, unable to even produce coherent speech.

“I love you so much,” you gasp.

“...is that what this is about? Or is there more?”

Dan Heng strokes your hair through your tearful explanation. You know you don’t make a lot of sense right now, but it’s all you can manage. He still listens with scholarly attention to detail, not doting or prying. He’s here. He’s here for you, just like you are for him.

The dam has burst. “Have I ever told you about my family?”

“No,” he admits. “Do you want to?”

So you tell him enough. You only paint a vague picture; recounting endless disagreements and fighting, being kicked to the curb and ostracized, scrambling to pick up the pieces of your barely adult life before being thrusted into college all alone with no one to watch out for you. You’ve only dropped hints beforehand - after all, who wants to reopen old wounds?

Silence can be just as powerful of a response as spoken words. Dan Heng understands, you know that already, but the way he holds you is compelling evidence alone.

Dan Heng’s family is wonderful; being part of it makes you feel a little sick inside, somehow made worse by his ministrations. “It may be unfair of me to say, but… I think I know how you feel. My life before I came to live and travel with everyone was lonely. Lonely and painful, and you don’t deserve to feel that way. Ever.”

When you don’t respond, he continues.

“But I’m now content to call them my cherished companions. And you,” Dan Heng emphasizes, syllables unsure despite his best efforts, “are one of them as well. We haven’t pried too much into what is painful, but I’ve always felt like we’ve never needed to. That was my mistake.”

He makes a point of thumbing the residue of your episode away, an apology in and of itself. Of course he blames solely himself, you muse, biting back a playful reprimand that wouldn’t land well right now. Your breathing regains a semblance of normalcy as you muster up enough gusto to respond.

“No, don’t be silly. I want to talk to you more about our lives before each other, I think. Together, y’know? I-Isn’t that just so romantic? Being emotionally constipated doesn’t do either of us any favors.”

Your tone has lightened, enough for him to notice and furrow his brows in concern. Given, you rebound at the speed of light, never wishing to linger on the bad - partially because sadness is unpleasant and uncommon, but mostly because you feel like you’re unable to. That’s just how you are. However, the way he looks at you is encouragement enough to move forward.

You feel better, you do, but your eyes are still red and puffy. The night outside is still cold and unpredictable.

“Whatever you need,” Dan Heng nods. He can only be so sworn in his promises - so determined - before you crack a smile.

“Alright, easy on the white knight talk,” you chuckle. Realizing how close you actually are, there’s a pause. You can smell the mint of his shampoo, and your arms are tangled with his in some kind of human knot that’d have Houdini sweating. “It’s weird…”

He stares at you, unimpressed. “I thought you wanted me to talk to you in a ‘Romeo’ way.”

You only huff, unable to come up with a retort for once, which is fine. You wipe your face again and drag him down with you back onto the bed, which he allows, because Dan Heng is too good for you and also happens to be a complete pushover. At least you can use your frazzled, unstable emotional state to get what you want.

Case in point: you spoon him. The covers assume their original position after you wrangle them to behave, holding him close from behind. A little part of you does this so he can’t see if you start up the waterworks again, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“It’ll be alright,” Dan Heng reminds, surrendering to your whims as always.

The dust settles and you’re inclined to believe him. There is still much time left, with Christmas day being the focal point of your visit, and you’re starting to get sleepy again. That’s always a good sign; sleepy, relaxed, and with a head drained of pressing worries - at least for the present moment.

Your eyes close, bereft of tears as you murmur your agreement.

To your surprise and horror, this house didn’t have a Christmas tree. It’s not like it mattered that much, but it was still shocking nonetheless. With a building exploding with life, there wasn't an evergreen decked out in ornaments or a pine covered in lights to tie the room together.

Honestly, where were they going to put their presents?

However, you forgave this transgression a day or two later under the condition that you would be allowed to pick one out. Everyone seemed to be fine with it, with you offering to cover the cost this close to the 25th - and your determined expression that would’ve been pointless to argue with. Santa Claus works hard but you work harder.

Caelus and March jumped to go with you, much to the others’ relief, and that was more than enough hands on deck for you to hop in Caelus’s car and drive to the nearest tree farm in the dead of winter, borrowing some mittens and a cute knitted hat from March so you wouldn’t become a human popsicle before your 30s.

Uh, you did get a bit lost. You had to interrogate the shit out of the GPS and one poor local to get there; the latter was not your fault by the way! Caelus just so happened to be carrying a bat and had a concerning look in his eye. That put you in good enough standing to make it there, even if the selection of trees were picked over, leaving only the runts on sale.

All three of you turned away with your hands empty, opting to make a last minute shopping trip to the mall to buy a fake one. You were against it, but your suggestion to buy three small trees and place them really close together was vetoed. “Majority rules” is totes unfair…

But the mall trip turned into a lot more when you actually got there. Both of them ganged up on you with a reminder that you haven’t gotten Dan Heng a gift yet! Honestly, you could say you regret confessing that to them earlier, but you totally needed to hear it.

Imagine you, waking up on Christmas morning with nothing to give the love of your life! Deplorable, unforgivable, and tragically heartbreaking.

And you had a council there to help you; people that know Dan Heng just as well as you do.

“He’s so hard to shop for,” March had groaned, flicking through racks of clothes with a dark aura surrounding her. “Trust me, I’ve tried in the past. He always says he’s fine with anything, giving me zero hints…”

“Maybe get him nothing,” Caelus suggested after, more occupied with trying to steal coins from the nearby wishing fountain. Like one does. “You could run him over and he’d thank you politely.”

Similar experiences there. He’s always been more attuned to your wants than his own, which you’ve been trying to get him to work on at his own pace. Unfortunately, the place was about to close for the night since you already spent the day gallivanting around.

The burly mall security guard looked dangerously close to kicking your trio out, with at least one of you kicking and screaming, so you had to leave empty handed again.

The others assured you that you’d find a present in time. You decided to go with the flow and hope that the heavens above would drop one into your lap by the day of.

Spoiler alert: they didn’t! Because Christmas day is now here, and it all seems hopeless. Well, aside from the fact that you’re all settled around the coffee table and a big, burning fire is roaring in the fireplace.

There’s still a smile on your face as Welt and Himeko tear open their presents with wise, softened gazes. You can’t let your own mistakes ruin the moment, after all.

“Truly, thank you both,” Himeko croons, looking over her respective mug and brooch with awe. “I was prepared to perhaps play up the excitement a bit, but… I’m very impressed. Dan Heng, you’ve picked well.”

He flushes. “They helped me,” he nods to you.

“No,” she laughs, “I meant you picked a good partner.”

Before you can stammer out a reply, Welt chimes in. He’s inspecting the quality of his tie with muted gratitude - his new mug seems to only serve as a reminder that he has to drink Himeko’s coffee out of it. Hey, at least your heart was in the right place!

“I have to agree. Both of you must have collaborated seamlessly to shop for our preferences.”

Caelus, wearing his big ass jacket that you and Dan Heng bought him, sprawls out across one of the couches like a housecat. “This is a lot better than what you got me last year, Cold Dragon Young.”

Dan Heng bristles and you burst out laughing at the expression he’s making. “Cold Dragon what?”

“Ignore them,” he pleads, lips twitching upward just a smidge; a ghost of a smile. Dan Heng really does like the teasing more than he lets on.

March was almost reduced to tears by the jewelry dish you painted for her - which is more of a jewelry box at this point - but she recovers from her reverie and endless thank yous to giggle at your partner’s expense, something that’s swiftly turning into a group effort. “One time, we all got roped into fistfighting these bad guys in a club, and after Dan Heng took care of them--”

“I was left with no other choice--”

“--then that became his ring name. Cold Dragon Young!” she finishes.

Himeko and Welt exchange an exhausted look. You immediately decide that the moniker is going to become his contact name in your phone until the end of time. You also start wheezing (and also kind of blushing) at the idea of Dan Heng, the near-pacifist, duking it out with someone. “S-Sounds like you guys have been everywhere…”

“...we have,” your boyfriend clears his throat. You sense a topic change, or even a segue, drawing your attention. You sit up a little straighter and wipe the comically-induced hysteria from your eyes.

He’s looking at you expectantly with some of the earlier heat coloring the tips of his ears. The room lulls into silence as he makes his way over to the tree to retrieve a box from underneath the branches, wrapped in pastel yellow with no bow.

Dan Heng hands it over, and when your skin brushes against his for a fleeting second, you feel the clamminess of his palms.

“Oh, me next?” you blink. Shaking the thing a bit too aggressively, listening for any indication of a bomb (just in case), you get a good feel of its weight. Light and mysterious. You’re too busy making mental guesses that you don’t notice Welt shepherding the others out of the room.

“Yes. I hope you like it,” he watches as you tear open the wrapping paper and the box itself. Dan Heng is so beautiful it’s almost criminal, unintentionally batting his lashes in a way that has you swallowing drool.

You scoff. “Of course I will!”

Inside the box rests… two tickets? Your mind jumps to movie tickets first and foremost, but that’s obviously not the case; the ones here are golden with faded ridges and accented with red, sparkling as you fawn over them. Then you read the printed text lining the bottom of the thin cardstock.

The Astral Express. They’re two boarding passes.

“No way,” It’s the name of the restored steam locomotive in the picture, the very same one that Himeko told you about working on during the height of her career. “Does this mean…?”

Dan Heng drinks in the surprised part of your lips, scratching at his neck. “You mentioned that you wanted to travel. I, and the rest of us, thought you’d like to accompany us on a trip. If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly fine,” he promises. “I can get refunded, and we’ll all stay. But it’s scheduled to start the day after tomorrow and last until the new year.”

You don’t want to cry again, even if they’re happy tears, so you launch yourself into his arms as a welcome distraction. You may be imagining it, but you think you feel him slump in relief. Again. How long will it take to get it through his thick skull that he could never disappoint you?

“Duh, of course I want to! Darling, what kind of jerk would I be if I said no and made everyone cancel their plans? Oh my god, oh my god--”

“You m-may want to breathe.”

His concern is so genuine - that’s not even meant to be teasing. You scream into his shoulder, already thinking of nights spent in velvet cabins and days spent watching the cross-country scenery go by on the silver rail. With good food. Lots of it.

“I’m breathing,” you huff, in fact, short of breath. “Thank you, Dan Heng. I love it so much.”

You pull back, box and tickets still safe in your grasp despite your earlier flailing. The magical moment fizzles, your joy stunted as guilt emerges. “But I… I didn’t get you anything. I’m so sorry, we shopped all over, and everything’s been so hectic…”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I meant what I said.”

“Huh?”

“When we were shopping all that time ago,” he clarifies. “I don’t need anything but you. And with the others coming along,” Dan Heng gestures to the tickets, everyone else’s likely stowed away somewhere safe, “It’s the best gift I could ask for, more than I could ever want.”

You don’t rebut him this time.

The guilt has all but vanished, and you pull Dan Heng into a tender kiss. This has, no joke, probably been the best break of your life so far. Not to mention you have a whole new trip to look forward to, with a whole new family at your side.

Just as you think this perfect moment is unshakable, hoots and jeers break out from behind you. You whip around, dazed, and Caelus is cheering both of you on like his life depends on it.

“Wooooo! I told you they’d like it, dude! May your love burn bright for years to co--”

…then March clamps a hand over his mouth and hauls him away.

Dan Heng is so embarrassed that he chokes on a laugh. You make sure to join him in kind, the present moment also holding the infinite possibilities of the future.

thank you for reading! it means the world to me 🎅🎁 on ao3

#hvntersecretsanta #g.writes #dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr dan heng #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x you #hsr x you #dan heng hsr x reader #hsr fluff #dan heng x gn!reader

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demie90s · 19 days ago

Text

You Asked.

Azzi Fudd x Player!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Your smooth, and unapologetically known for giving unforgettable head—but never catching feelings. Azzi Fudd? She’s the latest obsession.

Genre: Angst, smut (later), obsession in denial

Warnings: Smut 18+, emotional tension, ghosting

Vibe: You shouldn’t have cared. But you do.

Word Count~ 2.5k

I didn’t earn my name in class. I earned it on my knees. Yeah, I said it.

Not because I’m desperate—not even close. But because I like it. I enjoy it. There’s peace in it. Pressure in it. Something about making a girl forget how to breathe just does it for me.

I don’t fuck for their pleasure—I eat for mine. College is hard. Papers due. Tests piling. Professors assigning trauma as homework. So when life’s a mess?

I find relief between thighs. Hot, aching, clenching relief. And yeah, a few girls talk. Like I’m some campus side quest. A little mystery you whisper about in group chats. “She made me black out,” one said. “She was humming,” another added.

I don’t deny it. I don’t confirm it either. I don’t need to. They know my name.

Y/N.

No last name necessary. Tall, tatted, always in an oversized tee and sweats that hang low off my waist. I’m in class when I need to be.

But most of the time? I’m high, posted up in somebody’s dorm, or laid out under a tree like I own the campus.

I don’t chase. I don’t beg. And I never double back.

…Until Azzi. But we’ll get there.

See, the real story starts with this class. “Modern Cultural Rhetoric.” Just a gen-ed filler I picked ‘cause the professor doesn’t take attendance and the papers are optional if your discussion grades are high. I walked in late the first day—hood on, blunt on my breath, iced coffee in my hand. Sat in the back and didn’t say shit. Still left with the highest pre-quiz score in the room.

That’s the thing about me. I talk slick and fuck reckless, but I’m smart. Smart and dangerous. I don’t try. I just do. And people notice.

Even her. Yeah—her. Miss Sunshine. Star Player. Sweetest smile on campus. Azzi Fudd.

We’d crossed paths before. Hallways. Cafeteria. Parties where I was posted up with someone else’s girl while she laughed in corners with her team. But we never spoke.

Until that day.

When Professor H started assigning project partners “based on GPA proximity,” I already knew I was screwed. There’s maybe five people in the class smart enough to challenge me. She was one of ‘em. So when he said, “Fudd and Y/N”? I already felt my jaw clench.

She turned around. Smile like sugar. Hair pulled back. Bright eyes.

“Guess we’re stuck together,” she said, chipper. I didn’t smile back. Just licked my lip, leaned forward and said,

“Guess you’re lucky.”

She laughed. Thought I was joking. I wasn’t. Not even a little.

——————————————————————————————-

Azzi’s POV

The Warning Was Loud. I Just Didn’t Listen.

I didn’t think much of it when Professor H read out the partner list. Group projects were annoying, sure, but I usually got through them just fine. I was already packing up my bag when he said it:

“Fudd and Y/L/N.”

I froze. Blinked once. Then looked up slowly—like maybe I misheard. But no. Everyone else heard it too. There was a pause in the room. One of those weird silences where you feel people staring. Whispering. Like the air just got warmer.

Y/N didn’t even react. She just stretched her legs out, yawned like this was boring, and slouched deeper into her seat like nothing touched her.

I’d heard of her. Of course I had. You’d have to be living under a rock not to know about Y/N.

She didn’t play any sports, didn’t care for clout, didn’t run with a crowd—but she was known. Tall, masc, dressed like every piece in her closet was stolen from a high-end shoot. Pretty in that rude, effortless way.

She didn’t flirt so much as…claim. And the stories? They were legendary. Whispers in dorms, giggles in locker rooms, half-smirks in the library.

Some people said she ruined them. Others said she saved them. Everyone agreed on one thing—once she touched you, you weren’t the same.

Still. I figured the rumors were exaggerated. People talk. I didn’t think she’d actually be anything special.

Then after class, she leaned over, smelled like good weed and cinnamon gum, and said in that low, rich voice, “Guess you’re stuck with me, princess. Lucky you.”

I laughed it off. Played it cool. Went about my day. But it lingered. So later, after practice, I brought it up casually in the locker room.

“I got paired with Y/N for my rhetoric project,” I said while tying my shoe.

KK’s head snapped up. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

I glanced at her. “Yeah. Why?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Caroline groaned, already rolling her eyes.

“Say it like what?”

“Like it’s nothing,” Inês muttered. “That’s something.”

“Y’all are being dramatic,” I laughed.

“She’s dangerous,” Ice said. “In that slow, ‘I won’t even ask your name’ kinda way.”

“She’s smart,” KK added. “Real smart. Real charming. Gets what she wants. And what she wants is usually—”

“Girls,” Ayanna said bluntly.

I raised an eyebrow. “So she’s a flirt. Who cares?”

“No, Azzi,” KK said seriously. “She’s the munch.”

I paused. “I’m sorry—the what?”

“She eats pussy like it’s therapy,” Ice deadpanned. “And not for the girl. For her.”

“She doesn’t even make it romantic,” Inês added. “No cuddling. No feelings. Just that mouth. Then poof.”

“She hooked up with two girls from the rugby team and left both of them giggling and heartbroken,” Ayanna said, shaking her head. “At the same time.”

“Okay but we’re just doing a project,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Everyone turned.

KK tilted her head. “You curious?”

“No!”

“You are.” Caroline smirked. “You smiled just now.”

“I didn’t!”

“God,” Ice muttered. “She’s already done.”

I stood up fast, grabbing my bag like it would protect me from the accusations. “Y’all are dramatic.”

“Sure,” KK said. “But don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

And the worst part? They were right. Because two hours later, when my phone lit up with her name—“You free?”—I smiled before I could stop myself. And I think… I knew right then.

————————————————————��—————————-

I don’t think she knew what she was walking into. Not really.

She was soft, too soft for her own good. Sitting on that pink blanket like she ain’t just open the door for her own downfall. Cute little shorts. Oversized UConn hoodie swallowing her up like a blanket of innocence. I almost laughed. The kind of girl who doesn’t even know how loud she breathes when she’s nervous.

“Let’s just get this done,” she’d said.

I nodded. “Sure, princess.”

She looked up—eyes narrowing just a little, like she clocked the name. Good. I like when they pay attention.

We worked. Kind of. She tried. Pulled up her little doc and started typing. But I was watching her thighs. The way she sat cross-legged on the bed, little shorts riding up every time she adjusted. I wasn’t trying to be respectful. I wasn’t trying at all.

She caught me staring once. Didn’t say anything. And that was the moment I knew. So I asked, casual as fuck, “You ever been eaten right?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

I smiled. “You heard me.”

She didn’t answer. Just stared. So I stood, slow, real slow, and stepped between her knees.

“You wanna know why they talk about me like that?” I asked, voice low, watching her chest rise and fall. She didn’t move.

Didn’t push me away. Didn’t say no. So I dropped to my knees.

No teasing. No warm-up. Just slipped my hands under those soft ass shorts and pulled ‘em down like I owned her. Her thighs tensed, legs still clumsy, but I pushed them open with a quiet little grunt.

And then I dove in.

Tongue flat and slow against her clit, lips tight around it like I was trying to drink from her. She gasped—sharp, unsteady—her hands flying to my shoulders but not pushing, just holding.

“F-Fuck—”

Yeah. That’s more like it.

I didn’t go fast. I didn’t need to. I dragged my tongue in lazy little figure eights, then flattened it again, licking her like a prayer. Like she was something holy. She twitched under me, hips jerking every time I sucked her clit into my mouth.

I hummed into her. Felt her shake. She was soaking. Already. Dripping down my neck. And I hadn’t even really started.

I slid two fingers inside—slow, deep—and curled them up until her back arched off the damn bed. She moaned my name, breathy and broken, and I felt her clench around me like she’d never been touched like this before.

That’s when I smiled against her. Because I had her.

I angled my wrist, found that little spot inside her that made her cry out, and just stayed there. Tongue rolling on her clit, fingers pressing just right, slow and nasty and perfect. Her hands were in my hair now. Not pulling. Just holding on for dear life.

She came so pretty I almost forgot I didn’t care. Almost.

When she went limp, I pulled back, wiped my mouth, and sat up like nothing happened.

She stared at me—face flushed, lips parted, chest rising in short bursts.

And I just said, “You good?”

She nodded slow, still dazed.

I stood, grabbed my phone, and tossed a nod toward the doc. “Send me your half when it’s done.”

And I walked out. Didn’t even kiss her. Because I don’t eat to please. I eat because I like it. And Azzi Fudd? She’s my new favorite flavor.

——————————————————————————————-

It was three days later when she found me. Not texted. Not called. Found me.

Back bleachers. After class. I was laid out, hoodie up, headphones in, face to the sky like I didn’t have a care in the damn world. I felt her before I saw her. That nervous energy she carries—balled up and polite. She was pacing, hesitating.

“Hey,” she finally said.

I popped one headphone out. Didn’t even lift my head. “Fudd.”

Her jaw twitched. “Can we talk?”

I stretched, slow and smug. “We already did. You just couldn’t speak at the time.” She blinked. I watched her try not to react. That was half the fun.

She sat beside me, knees bouncing. “I just…” She sighed. “I think we should talk about what happened.”

“Which part?” I asked, turning to look at her. “The part where you came in under five minutes? Or the part where you ain’t even say thank you?”

That got her. Her lips parted. She looked stunned. I raised my brows, amused. “You always ghost people who make you see God?”

“I didn’t ghost you,” she said, too fast.

I tilted my head. “So you were what, busy recovering?”

Her face flushed, and I smiled. She was trying so hard to be serious. So hard to be in control.

“Look,” she started. “It was… good. I’m not gonna lie.”

“Good?” I repeated. “That ain’t the word you used when your legs were shaking.”

“Okay—it was great,” she snapped, looking away. “The best I’ve ever had. Happy?”

I grinned. “Ecstatic.”

She rolled her eyes. I sat up, elbows on my knees, turning to face her more directly. “So what now? You here to ask for seconds?” She hesitated. Too long.

“That a yes?” I pressed.

“No,” she said—too soft to sound real. “I just… I don’t do stuff like that. It’s not me.”

I leaned in, voice low. “It was you. That was all you. Loud, needy, cumming on my tongue—don’t rewrite it.”

Azzi’s breath caught. I saw the way she clenched her hands in her lap. She was remembering. Feeling it again. That’s how I knew I won.

“I’m not asking for anything,” I said, pulling back, stretching again like none of this meant anything. “We can call it even.”

“Even?”

“Yeah. You got the quickest, hardest nut of your life. And I got a new flavor to think about when I’m bored.” She stared. Stunned.

I popped the other headphone back in and said around a lazy grin, “Good talk, pretty.”

And just like that? I leaned back, closed my eyes, and let her sit there stewing in it. Because I don’t chase. And she’ll never forget how I made her feel.

——————————————————————————————-

Azzi’s dorm. Noon.

She opens the door like she wasn’t just texting me two minutes ago saying “you don’t have to come.” I step inside anyway.

She’s in sweats. No makeup. Hair pinned back like she’s trying not to look soft but can’t help it. Her eyes flick to my mouth immediately.

“Lunch in an hour,” she mumbles. I nod. “Then I’ll be quick.”

I’m lying.

I close the door behind me, set my phone down, and press her gently into the mattress. She tries to sit up, say something, but I shake my head.

“Shh,” I murmur. “I’m not here to talk.”

She gasps the moment I lift her hoodie, soft hands twitching like she doesn’t know whether to pull away or pull me closer. I hook my fingers in her waistband and slide her sweats down slow—so slow she starts to shake before I even touch her.

I drop to my knees and press my face between her thighs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And then I take. My. Time.

I don’t rush it. I don’t showboat. I eat her like I’ve been starving for days and this is the only meal I’ll ever want again.

Slow licks. Deep pressure. Lips wrapping around her clit, drawing every twitch and sigh out of her until her fingers are tangled in the sheets, breath catching with every pass of my tongue.

When she whimpers and tries to close her legs, I grip her thighs and pull them back open, firm and calm. No.

She tries to say something—“I have to meet them soon”—but I lick her slow and deep until she forgets the sentence.

Until her mouth hangs open, body shaking like it can’t take more but refuses to stop me. I keep going. An hour. Easy.

She cums four. Maybe five. I don’t stop long enough to count. I just kiss the inside of her thigh when I’m done, give her a soft peck on the lips, and wipe my mouth with her hoodie sleeve like I’m doing her a favor.

I leave before she can say a word.

⸻

Thirty minutes later. Team lunch.

Azzi walks in late. Hair slightly messy. Hoodie sleeves pulled low like she’s hiding something. She doesn’t speak. Just sits down slow like her knees ain’t stable.

Jana eyes her. “Damn. You okay?”

Azzi blinks. “Yeah. Why?”

“You look like you had a time.” Everyone ooohs. Azzi’s mouth falls open.

Ayanna sips her drink. “Who had you missing meetings and walking funny?”

Azzi clears her throat. “Nobody.”

“Liar,” Paige says without even looking up. “That’s munch damage.”

KK just whistles. “Y/n did it again.”

Azzi’s quiet. Doesn’t deny it. She’s still feeling it in her spine. And across campus? You’re laid up in your bed, hoodie over your head, earbuds in—grinning. You didn’t just eat Azzi Fudd.

You ruined her lunch.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog

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secretlyinlovewithchloeprice · 25 days ago

Text

I love Nam-gyu so much but I hate how badly people mischaracterise him, so here’s my personal take on him

🪷 - I’m still writing for Chloe! I just can’t find any good Nam-guy fanfics because the fandom is so dead ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ )

PRE-SQUID GAME TIMELINE

♱ I don’t think Nam-gyu is a nasty incel who’s never experienced the touch of woman — If any think, I just think he’s a total loser

♱ Nam-gyu lived with his mum till he was twenty four, he told his friends it was “cheaper”. In reality, he’s a crybaby who can’t handle having roommates and sharing a shower with two other men

♱ He drinks long blacks thinking it makes him look sophisticated — Nam-gyu prefers strawberry matcha, he just thinks it’s too girly

♱ He loves alternative milks, despises dairy

♱ I personally think Nam-guy has been hospitalised from dehydration

♱ Nam-gyu’s self-esteem issues stemmed from his childhood. His dad left when he was five, so he didn’t have a male figure in his life. He was also a little chubby pre-puberty, so none of the girls really liked him

♱ Then he hit puberty and it wasn’t any better — He lost all the excess baby weight, but he gained horrible acne. Not just hormonal acne, either, like full on cystic acne

♱ He was also a little smelly and nobody told him

♱ Never showered after gym class because he had horrible back-acne and chest-acne. Not showering only made it worse, though

♱ I also think he had teeth problems for some reason

♱ Avid coffee drinker, hates energy drinks

♱ Despite everything, I don’t think Nam-gyu’s a virgin — I mean, come on, he’s almost thirty and works at a club 💔

♱ I do, however, think his first time was horrible. He wasn’t sober, his hands were by his side the entire time, and he left wearing his minecraft boxers he bought off of temu (temu victim)

♱ He ghosted the woman after the hookup, mainly because he was too scared of confrontation (and commitment)

♱ Loves sudoku

♱ I think Nam-guy went to community college and got a bachelor’s degree in history (specifically modern history)

♱ Is a total film nerd

♱ Has an extremely low screen time, like he uses his phone a maximum of twenty minutes per day (daily sudoku puzzle, setting alarms, and checking the news)

♱ Nam-gyu is NOT a misogynist — Huge misconception. Nam-gyu has (in my au at least) a single mum who he idolises, he cannot imagine hating a woman purely because she is better at something than he is

♱ Worked at a library prior to being a club promoter. The pay was ass but he enjoyed the solitude

♱ Before participating in the games, Nam-gyu’s hair was LONG. He only cut it because one of the bouncers mistook him as a girl (it didn’t help that he has softer features)

♱ Has chapped lips, only uses unscented Nivea

♱ He suffered from eczema till his early teens

♱ His body care routine is just a bunch of unscented, non-inflammatory body lotions and body washes

♱ He owns the same pillow he’s had since the 8th grade — Refuses to get rid of it, it’s moulded his head perfectly

♱ Has a ton of piercings

Not proofread!! I have a maths exam in like three days (,,╥﹏╥,,)

#nam guy x reader #nam-gyu x reader #player 124 x reader #player 124 #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game 2 #squid game x reader

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pathetic-gamer · 1 year ago

Text

Pentiment's Complete Bibliography, with links to some hard-to-find items:

I've seen some people post screenshots of the game's bibliography, but I hadn't found a plain text version (which would be much easier to work from), so I put together a complete typed version - citation style irregularities included lol. I checked through the full list and found that only four of the forty sources can't be found easily through a search engine. One has no English translation and I'm not even close to fluent enough in German to be able to actually translate an academic article, so I can't help there. For the other three (a museum exhibit book, a master's thesis, and portions of a primary source that has not been entirely translated into English), I tracked down links to them, which are included with their entries on the list.

If you want to read one of the journal articles but can't access it due to paywalls, try out 12ft.io or the unpaywall browser extension (works on Firefox and most chromium browsers). If there's something you have interest in reading but can't track down, let me know, and I can try to help! I'm pretty good at finding things lmao

Okay, happy reading, love you bye

Beach, Alison I. Women as Scribes: Book Production and Monastic Reform in Twelfth-Century Bavaria. Cambridge Univeristy Press, 2004.

Berger, Jutta Maria. Die Geschichterder Gastfreundschaft im hochmittel alterlichen Monchtum: die Cistercienser. Akademie Verlag GmbH, 1999. [No translation found.]

Blickle, Peter. The Revolution of 1525. Translated by Thomas A. Brady, Jr. and H.C. Erik Midelfort. The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985.

Brady, Thomas A., Jr. “Imperial Destinies: A New Biography of the Emperor Maximilian I.” The Journal of Modern History, vol 62, no. 2., 1990. pp.298-314.

Brandl, Rainer. “Art or Craft: Art and the Artist in Medieval Nuremberg.” Gothic and Renaissance Art in Nuremberg 1300-1550. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1986. [LINK]

Byars, Jana L., “Prostitutes and Prostitution in Late Medieval Bercelona.” Masters Theses. Western Michigan University, 1997. [LINK]

Cashion, Debra Taylor. “The Art of Nikolaus Glockendon: Imitation and Originality in the Art of Renaissance Germany.” Journal of Historians of Netherlandish Art, vol 2, no. 1-2, 2010.

de Hamel, Christopher. A History of Illuminated Manuscripts. Phaidon Press Limited, 1986.

Eco, Umberto. The Name of the Rose. Translated by William Weaver. Mariner Books, 2014.

Eco, Umberto. Baudolino. Translated by William Weaver. Mariner Books, 2003.

Fournier, Jacques. “The Inquisition Records of Jacques Fournier.” Translated by Nancy P. Stork. Jan Jose Univeristy, 2020. [LINK]

Geary, Patrick. “Humiliation of Saints.” In Saints and their cults: studies in religious sociology, folklore, and history. Edited by Stephen Wilson. Cambridge University Press, 1985. pp. 123-140

Harrington, Joel F. The Faithrul Executioner: Life and Death, Honor and Shame in the Turbulent Sixteenth Century. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2013.

Hertzka, Gottfired and Wighard Strehlow. Grosse Hildegard-Apotheke. Christiana-Verlag, 2017.

Hildegard von Bingen. Physica. Edited by Reiner Hildebrandt and Thomas Gloning. De Gruyter, 2010.

Julian of Norwich. Revelations of Divine Love. Translated by Barry Windeatt. Oxford Univeristy Press, 2015.

Karras, Ruth Mazo. Sexuality in Medieval Europe: Doing Unto Others. Routledge, 2017.

Kerr, Julie. Monastic Hospitality: The Benedictines in England, c.1070-c.1250. Boudell Press, 2007.

Kieckhefer, Richard. Forbidden rites: a necromancer’s manual of the fifteenth century. Sutton, 1997.

Kuemin, Beat and B. Ann Tlusty, The World of the Tavern: Public Houses in Early Modern Europe. Routledge, 2017.

Ilner, Thomas, et al. The Economy of Duerrnberg-Bei-Hallein: An Iron Age Salt-mining Center in the Austrian Alps. The Antiquaries Journal, vol 83, 2003. pp. 123-194

Lang, Benedek. Unlocked Books: Manuscripts of Learned Magic in the Medieval Libraries of Central Europe. The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2008

Lindeman, Mary. Medicine and Society in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge University Press, 2019.

Lowe, Kate. “’Representing’ Africa: Ambassadors and Princes from Christian Africa to Renaissance Italy and Portugal, 1402-1608.” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society Sixth Series, vol 17, 2007. pp. 101-128

Meyers, David. “Ritual, Confession, and Religion in Sixteenth-Century Germany.” Archiv fuer Reformationsgenshichte, vol. 89, 1998. pp. 125-143.

Murat, Zuleika. “Wall paintings through the ages: the medieval period (Italy, twelfth to fifteenth century).” Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences, vol 23, no. 191. Springer, October 2021. pp. 1-27.

Overty, Joanne Filippone. “The Cost of Doing Scribal Business: Prices of Manuscript Books in England, 1300-1483.” Book History 11, 2008. pp. 1-32.

Page, Sophie. Magic in the Cloister: Pious Motives, Illicit Interests, and Occullt Approaches to the Medieval Universe. The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2013.

Park, Katharine. “The Criminal and the Saintly Body: Autopsy and Dissectionin Renaissance Italy.” Renaissance Quarterly, vol 47, no. 1, Spring 1994. pp. 1-33.

Rebel, Hermann. Peasant Classes: The Bureaucratization of Property and Family Relations under Early Habsburg Absolutism, 1511-1636. Princeton University Press, 1983.

Rublack, Ulinka. “Pregnancy, Childbirth, and the Female Body in Early Modern Germany.” Past & Present,vol. 150, no. 1, February 1996.

Salvador, Matteo. “The Ethiopian Age of Exploration: Prester John’s Discovery of Europe, 1306-1458.” Journal of World History, vol. 21, no. 4, 2011. pp.593-627.

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#pentiment #early modern history

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wildflowersandvibranium · 8 days ago

Text

Muscle Memory : Chapter Six

Pairing: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS Restaurant Owner Bucky Barnes x Cardiac Surgeon Female Reader Alternate Universe

Summary: In a town that never forgets , she thought she could hide the bruises behind a perfect smile and life. But someone from her past sees too much—and remembers everything. sorry its so vague just don't want to give too much away!

Word Count: 2.8k+

Chapter Warnings: Starts off super fluffy and nice then dips into - Emotional abuse & gaslighting , alcohol consumption , psychological trauma , victim-blaming , verbal threats/degradation , physical violence , mental health topics.

A/N: hey everyone! a new chapter in only two days eee. This one is a pretty rough one im sorry :( but this story does have a happy ending and i promise i will not steer you wrong! i hope you enjoy and take care of yourselves 💖

also next chapter is our halfway point and as a treat im posting the teaser for my new seriess im wiritng rn!! hehe

series masterlist

<- previous chapter - next chapter ->

If there was one thing that didn't change from the time Y/N knew Wanda Maximoff growing up to knowing her now , was that she was truly incapable of—no matter how she tried—keeping things especially parties small.

So , as the countdown to her and Vision's wedding crept closer and closer , it was inevitable that she'd find an excuse to throw a dinner party.

Not that anyone in their group minded. Especially not when it was hosted in this house.

Wanda and Vision’s place was an architectural day dream , a blend of sleek modern lines softened by vintage details. French styled windows framed the setting sun , and the interior glowed in amber hues.

The walls were adorned with old and new framed book pages and antique sconces , one room effortlessly flowing into the next.

An already pre prepared nursery sat quietly off to the right of the upstairs hall , already painted in soft sage and brown tones with a mobile of little animals and characters swaying in the air from the cool breeze of an open window.

The library across from it was cozy , all dark reddish wood and muted velvet chairs , the air carrying hints of cedar and the waft of old novels.

The dining room—well , the dining room was the crown jewel of the home: a long hand carved and made rustic table lit with strung lights and flickering floating candles in water-filled mason jars that adorned the table top , the exquisite centerpiece was made of freshly picked eucalyptus and peonies from Wanda’s garden.

It was intimate. Warm and familiar.

When arriving Y/N sat near the middle of the long table , Tyler right at her side arm tucked behind her back or snug to her waist , her hand clenched under the table in his too-tight grip he currently had on her. His palm hadn’t loosened once since they got in the car to head this way.

Directly cross from her sat Bucky. Sam and Inaya had taken their seats beside him , with Clint and Laura next down the lavish table.

Everyone was deep in their own conversation , it bled into wedding talk , honeymoon destinations and plans and now a friendly dessert table debate.

Wanda , was in a soft black spring dress with a soft gray cardigan draped over her frame standing with an expensive wine bottle in one hand and a dish towel in the other , laughed as Vision brought over the last plate of food announcing:

“No one touch the roasted potatoes just yet,” she said firmly. “They need exactly four minutes to rest or I'll put a spell on you.”

That drew a collective laugh from all ends of the table and room.

Y/N smiled at the joke raising her glass and took a slow long sip of her wine.

If she was being honest , she didn’t even like the taste of wine. Not really. It was too dry and not her usual pick. But it gave her something to do with her hands that kept from making her cuticles bleed by her nervous picking.

And the warmth it provided dulled the thrum of anxiety in her belly and veins that came with being seated at the same table as Bucky Barnes—with Tyler right next to her.

Bucky , for his part , had also loosened up with a glass of the red lquid. He rarely ever drank—ever cautious of his actions and , ever in control—but something about the mood , the dim flickering lights , the hum of shared memories made it feel safe to have a few sips or maybe a few glasses.

Just for tonight , he told himself.

At some point during the chatter of lifelong friends and their spouses , the conversation had shifted.

The newlyweds-to-be were asked about their honeymoon plans or if there were any.

“We’re going to Sicily ,” Wanda smiled , practically glowing as she leaned on Vision.

“We found a tiny villa , no WiFi or distractions , just sun and lemon trees and Vision shirtless on a beautiful beach.”

Vision smiled modestly blushing at his soon to be wife's comment. “She makes it sound way better than it will be.”

“I don’t know about that Vision,” Inaya said , resting her chin on her hand. “I think it sounds like pure bliss and heaven.”

Sam groaned leaning back in his seat. “When can we go back to Europe again?”

“When someone gets a passport that hasn't been way expired,” she teased , “-and when that same someone doesn't keep leaving a child in my uterus.”

Y/N laughed loudly with the group at that.

Her head was beginning to feel a little light , her cheeks warm with that wine buzz.

She wasn't drunk—yet—but she was definitely tipsy , her tongue was looser, her chest less tight and angry.

She’d poured herself a second full glass before the first was even fully empty.

Across the table , Bucky had started the conversation now , recounting and recalling the time they’d tried to build his family pet , a dog house together when they were about fourteen.

“No joke ,” he said , lifting his fork from his plate with emphasis, “she tried to nail the boards into a piece of wood that was warped and wasn’t even remotely usable.”

“I was testing the materials ,” Y/N defended herself , giggling.

“You then hit your finger with the hammer stumbling backwards landing right on your butt and screamed,” Bucky added, teasing her more and more, “but the only thing you broke was the sandwich you’d hidden from me in your back jeans pocket.”

Sam snorted. “Wait , she…you had a sandwich in your pocket?”

Y/N was full-on belly laughing now thanks to her lightheadedness and ease. “I always had snacks on me , okay? You can’t build memories on an empty stomach.”

The group laughed loudly with her. Even Wanda half in the conversation half , refilling glasses and snacking on roasted almonds , chuckled at her friend.

Tyler , however, sat utterly quiet.

Not smiling. Not speaking.

Almost seeming invisible.

The laughter around the table continued , flowing freely like the wine that was endless.

Every shared story seemed to stretch back into a time when things were easier. When love didn’t quite hurt. When home wasn’t as dangerous.

Bucky noticed it.

How Y/N leaned into those memories like a lifeline gripping onto them , her eyes brighter , her body and guard down and looser.

Her smile was more real than he’d seen in the weeks she had been back.

She looked at him across from the table , once or twice , longer than necessary but shorter than they both wanted.

The kind of looks and glances old friends shared.

The kind that said we’ve been through it. The kind that asked: Do you still remember who and how I am?

He did.

Of course he did.

She was still his girl , the one with the broken sandwich and scraped bloody knees , the one who memorized the stars and used sarcasm like armor. Even if she'd forgotten herself in the mirror Tyler made her use , he hadn’t.

He couldn’t.

At one point, Bucky quietly pushed , sliding the cheese platter a little closer to her , seeing there were only a few of the smoked gouda slices left , knowing it was her favorite.

She didn’t say thank you , didn’t need to.

Their eyes met with a glowing smile on both of their faces.

That was enough.

And Tyler had caught right on it.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

More wine was of course poured. Someone—probably Vision turned on soft jazz as it flowed through the house speakers.

Dessert was offered and greatly accepted—mini chocolate tortes topped with cold fresh whipped cream.

Eventually , after Sam and Inaya said their goodbyes with Inaya having an early shift in the morning , and Sam , of course, insisted on escorting her out –they moved to the living room and started a simple game of cards.

Something easy. Something casual. Fun.

Y/N was perched and settled on the couch legs tucked up underneath her , Tyler beside her , Bucky across parallel to the coffee table.

The others fanned out around the room with drinks and some still with dessert still in hand.

It was lighthearted , a little loud, and full of teasing jabs about who cheated at Uno and who hoarded all the wild cards.

But then as Clint placed a green four card…Y/N dropped Tyler’s hand.

She hadn’t even realized she’d done it. Her laughter from Bucky’s sarcastic comment about Clint’s bad hand still hung in the air when she just… let go.

Maybe it was her tipsy comfort. Maybe it was instinct clawing.

But the absence of her hand in his did not go unnoticed.

His grip had been controlling and sweaty. And when she let go, dropping it on the table in front of the others , that loss of the ownership he felt was everything.

Tyler’s jaw tightened hard, grinding his jaw. His hand found her bare thigh under the table and clamped down roughly , thumb pressing against the soft skin near her knee bruising the supple flesh there.

Y/N winced. Her back stiffened and jolted slightly.

And in that second—the laughter and safety faded from her eyes.

She tried to breathe normally. To smile. But the look Tyler gave her as she glanced from his grip on her to his gaze… it was the look of a man who would not forget this.

Would not forgive it.

She felt instantly sick.

Across the table , Bucky's gaze sharpened , the mirth in his features cooling instantly.

He’d seen the subtle wince. The flicker of fear.

His grip on his cards in hand tightened.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

When finishing the game after many , many long hectic rounds everyone began to bid their goodbyes , Tyler practically dragged Y/N out by her elbow the moment people were busy picking up and walking out. Not even allowing her to say goodbye to her friends.

The car ride home was deathly silent. Eerie.

The kind of silence that screamed without a word having to be spoken.

That familiar eeriness clawed at her and made every mile on the way home stretch into an eternity.

She sat still , her body rigid and tight in the passenger seat.

Her fingers trembled, shaking in her lap , curled twisting tightly together.

She didn’t dare speak. Not with the way Tyler was gripping the wheel and in control of the moving vehicle , white-knuckled , his jaw locked and twitching under his skin.

The muscle tick in his temple pulse and pounded in time with the rage she could feel radiating off him like a heatwave.

The second they turned into the driveway , her breath hitched.

She already knew , and accepted. Braced herself.

She didn’t need the slamming of the car door or the quick , pounding footsteps up the front porch to tell her this night would not end quietly.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

As soon as she stepped inside their home anc kicked her shoes off closing the door behind her, it began.

“You think I didn’t see you?” Tyler’s voice snapped like a whip. “You think I’m stupid?”

She flinched at his voice , recoiling slightly as he tossed his keys onto the table so hard they slid off and clattered to the floor.

He was already pacing , hands gesturing wildly , words slurred just enough to show how much wine he’d also taken in. He definitely shouldn't have been driving.

“You were laughing. Laughing with him like I wasn’t even there,” he spat voice breaking. “You embarrassed me.”

“I wasn’t—Tyler, I wasn’t trying to—”

“Oh, don’t give me that innocent pathetic act now,” he snarled , getting in her face , breathing on her nose as she closed her eyes tight.

“You were all over him with your stupid giggling and whispering and touching.”

“I didn’t touch him,” she said quickly trying to use her voice to soothe the storm beginning to spin out of control.

“I was just being friendly. You know I haven’t seen Bucky in years , I was just catching up. That’s all.”

“Liar!” he roared.

Her knees buckled slightly at the volume. “Please… please don’t—”

He grabbed her by the wrist so fast she didn’t have time to react or move.

“You don’t tell me what to do. You don’t get to act like some flirtatious little slut in front of all our friends and then lie to my face!”

“I wasn’t—” she tried , her voice cracking , the panic rising fast now, crawling up her throat like bile as hot tears pooled in her eyes. “I didn’t—Tyler, please—”

“You love him , don’t you?” he hissed then began to laugh dryly.

“That’s what this is. You’ve always loved him. You’ve never stopped. You were thinking about him the whole time we were there werent you. Every time you smiled, it was for him wasn't it…..”

“WASN'T IT?!” He shoved her hard , sending her backwards.

She hit the wall with a sickening thud , her shoulder scraping against the sharp edge of the doorframe and the picture above fell and shattered at her feet.

“Tyler!” she gasped , pain shooting down her back and head.

He stalked forward , his face twisted in pure fury.

“You’re mine. Mine. You hear me? You’re lucky someone like me even wants you. You think he’d take you back after knowing what you’ve become?”

“I didn’t do anything—” she sobbed , trying to push herself up slipping on glass as it dug into her palms.

“You’re disgusting ,” he snapped. “God , you make me sick. Don’t forget who takes care of you. Don’t forget who loves you. No one else will. Not after finding out what you are.”

Her head spun , vision blurring with tears as they poured down her cheeks.

“I love you,” he said sharply , grabbing her jaw in his hand. “Say it back.”

She didn’t. Couldn’t just cry out sobbing, turning into an almost wheeze.

“SAY IT BACK!”

“…I love you,” she whispered , barely audible.

Not because it was true—but because she was so and entirely afraid of him at that moment.

He stared at her for a long moment scoffing as she kneeled before him.

Then he dropped his grip and stepped back like nothing had happened.

“I’m going to bed,” he muttered. “Don’t follow me.”

She didn't look up ; she stayed still on the floor, chest heaving.

The pain was spreading out now , her back , her shoulder , her cheek.

She wasn’t sure where she’d been hurt the worst. Her body? Her heart? Mind?

Everything just ached.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The silence after he left was impossibly louder than his screams had ever been.

She curled in on herself on the living room floor , her sobs barely making it past her throat. Her hand trembled as she reached for the throw blanket on the couch and pulled it down , wrapping it around herself.

And somehow, the worst part wasn’t even the pain , the blood or anything remotely physical.

It was the guilt.

Guilt that clung to her skin like lingering cigarette smoke.

Because she’d laughed with Bucky. Because she’d let herself forget—just for a moment—what her life really was. Because when he looked at her like she was still someone worth caring about , she’d wanted to believe it.

She hated him–Bucky for it.

Because it made this hurt more. He had tricked her.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Her fingers curled around the edge of the couch cushion as she dragged herself up , slowly , gingerly , her body sore and heavy.

She winced feeling the glass in her knees and hands but just brushed off whatever she could off her skin and laid down pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders , knees drawn to her chest.

She cried for a long time. Her voice was raw and missing.

And when she couldn’t cry or wince anymore , when her throat was gravelly and her face sticky flooded with tears , she stared at the ceiling fan as it spun.

As Tyler’s voice fills her mind.

“You’re mine.”

“No one else will love you.”

“He doesn’t want you.”

“He never did.”

And the worst part was—Some part of her believed it.

-end

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