Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@leiankrisha
🎤Prism from Dispatch🎤
Ik the game has kinda lost its hype, but I still wanted to finish this drawing. I don’t draw black people often here, but Im quite satisfied with how she looks ^_^ Kinda sad she doesn’t have as much fanart so I hope to rectify it with this piece lol
🤖9S from NieR: Automata🤖
Was supposed to be the first post in a 100 day drawing challenge but I'm weak...
I love 9S btw
🔥Zuko from The Legend of Aang: The Last Airbender🔥
Didn't watch the leaked movie but I've seen the thirst edits of Zuko so it gave me this idea lol. Honestly, I don't study art as much as I should so I thought I should at least make a smaller piece thatmakes me practice rendering muscular torsos.
💫Yoosung Kim from Mystic Messenger💫
Tryna keep this blog up to date ^_^; So enjoy this classic yoosungy post!
👀Jiji from DanDaDan👀
Im finally coming back to finishing series lolol. I was originally gonna draw aira but I got fed up with the concept I drew and I don’t like her in general ToT I understand what she adds to the story but Idk, I can’t stand people like her. Same reason why I dont like teruhashi from saiki k. Anyways, I SWEAR ILL FINISH ASMO I JUST NEED TO RENDER HIS FRAME FOR THE MOST PART EUGH Protip: Dont charge your drawing device so it motivates you to draw faster as your device slowly dies
— Borrowed time, part 3
‼️Caleb x reader x Sylus. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!
Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely does not stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.
“Had you paid a little more attention, you would’ve known I hated the thunder too.”
word count = 5.2k
i appreciate all likes, comments, reblogs, and asks. i may not reply to all of them, but i want you to know that i reread them over and over 🥺
The choir of rain showering down envelops your whole world. Holding yourself close, you hug yourself away from the constant roar of the thunders.
You did not notice the man watching— his gaze lingering on the drenched rag of a person curled up on the roadside.
Another roar tears through the sky, clawing at your chest, sending tremors down your spine. With each shallow breath, you silently pray for the nightmare to be over, to wake up under warm covers in the safety of your own room.
He probably saw the state you’re in—the haziness in your unfocused eyes and the way you blink, once, twice, sluggish and distant. A sigh leaves his lips as he kneels down to your level. With one gloved hand holding his helmet, the other lightly flicks your forehead.
The flick is light—too light for the weight crushing your chest, yet enough to tether you back to reality and bring some focus back into your gaze.
You slowly raise your gaze, meeting his crimson orbs. Unwavering. Sharp. Studying.
His lips twitch—not quite a smirk, not quite concern.
“You look like hell,” he states as he tilts his head, studying you like you’re an amusing puzzle.
You don’t answer. You can’t. Your lips tremble, but no words form.
Sylus exhales, slow and deliberate—not quite a sigh, but something close.
“Can you get up?”
Silence. Only the sound of the rain, the low hum of the storm, and the quiver of your breath fill the air.
He clicks his tongue, running a hand through his drenched silver locks before shaking off the excess water. Then, without a word, he drops his helmet onto your head, fingers swift and practiced as he secures the strap beneath you chin
The sudden weight startles you. But before you can react, you’re lifted.
A sharp gasp catches in your throat as his arms hook effortlessly around you, pulling you up from the cold ground and onto the sleek leather seat.
He swings his leg over the bike, boots steady against the pavement. The engine purrs beneath you, low and commanding.
“Hold tight.”
The words are simple. A command. A warning.
Your hands instinctively clutch his waist, gripping the fabric of his jacket. The sudden yank pushes you flush against him.
But through the turmoil of it all—through the howling wind, the biting cold, the chaos swallowing the whole world as you ride through the roads a little too fast—beneath your fingers, beneath the soaked fabric,
he’s warm.
The contrast is sharp. The world untamed, screaming, tearing everything apart. The situation rushes past you, too quick, too unreal.
Through it all, you—fractured, weightless, drowning— hold onto him— steady, unshaken—like he’s the only rope tying you to reality.
•
“What’s your room number?” he asks as the bike comes to a stop and the deep rumble of the engine fades.
By the time you’ve returned to the resort, the campfire is long gone—reduced to nothing but damp coals and the ghost of laughter lingering in the air.
People scattered, rushed towards shelter, their hurried footsteps splashed against puddles. The storm has chased everyone indoors.
Except for you and him.
You’re still clutching onto him, fingers curled around the fabric of his jacket. The lingering warmth of his body beneath your touch feels foreign.
“Well?” Sylus’s voice cuts through the silence.
You blink, realizing you haven’t answered.
Your lips part, allowing a light whisper to leave your lips.
“409.”
Without a word, he starts walking.
Perhaps it’s because you did not want to be left alone in the darkness of the night again, or perhaps it was because the sudden loss of warmth prompted your body to move on its own.
You trail behind him through the dimly lit halls, the faint hum of electricity buzzing through the silence. Water drips from your clothes, leaving a trail behind as you shiver against the cold air-conditioned corridor.
You steal a glance at him. Sylus walks ahead, hands shoved into his pockets, completely unfazed. As if he didn’t just find you curled up on the side of the road, as if you’re not drenched and shaking beside him.
The two of you stop in front of your door.
You fumble for the key card, fingers trembling slightly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from everything that’s happened tonight.
“Shh, don’t be scared.”
Soft coos seep through the door.
“I’m here, pipsqueak. I’m here.”
Soft giggles follow the gentle whispers.
“You’ve always stayed with me on days like these, holding me just like this whenever there were thunders.” Her voice is small and fragile—like something meant to be cherished, protected.
Your fingers hover the doorknob, frozen in place.
The storm rages on, harmonizing with the soft giggles on the other side of the door.
You stood there paralyzed, your mind too tired to register whatever it is that your heart is going through.
Sylus leans against the doorframe, watching you hesitate. Waiting.
“So? You gonna go in, or are we just standing here all night?” He finally asks, voice low and edged with amusement.
Your lack of response earns slow exhale from him.
Before you can fall any deeper, before you can drown in the ache clawing at your chest—he moves.
His hand wraps around your wrist, firm and unyielding.
You flinch, eyes finally snapping to him.
He doesn’t say anything—just turns, walking, dragging you with him.
Away from the door. Away from them.
“Sylus—“ Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t loosen his grip.
And deep down, you were glad he didn’t.
You let the warmth of his hand anchor you, let the storm swallow everything else, and let the laughter behind the doorframe fade into nothing.
•
Sylus doesn’t stop walking until you’re deep inside the quiet halls of the resort, the sound of rain and thunder fading into the background.
His grip finally loosens as he stops in front of a door.
Without looking at you, he pulls out his key card and swipes it. The lock clicks open.
“Get in.” His voice is flat, low—an order, not a request.
You linger by the doorway, water pooling beneath your feet.
Sylus exhales sharply for the nth time that night, raking a hand through damp silver strands, sending droplets scattering to the floor. Then, without warning, he grabs a towel from the bed and throws it at you.
It smacks against your chest, snapping you out of your daze.
“Shower.”
You blink up at him. His crimson eyes don’t waver.
His jaw ticks. Another sigh, this one slower, controlled.
More is tossed at you.
A shirt. A pair of sweatpants. His clothes.
They land in your arms, warm, freshly laundered, carrying the faintest trace of him—clean, sharp, and something unplaceable.
Your fingers tighten around the fabric.
“You’re soaked. You’ll get sick.”
It’s not concern. It’s a fact. A simple statement.
When you still don’t move, he clicks his tongue, tone dipping into something dangerously close to impatience.
“Either you go shower, or I’ll throw you in there myself.”
That finally makes your feet move.
You clutch the clothes tighter against your chest and step past him, disappearing into the bathroom.
The door clicks shut behind you.
And only then do you finally exhale.
The warmth of the shower does little to soothe the tightness in your chest, but at the very least, it washes away the lingering cold from the rain, the exhaustion clinging to your skin like a second layer.
When you finally step out, damp hair sticking to your neck, Sylus is exactly where you left him—leaning against the dresser, one knee bent, a towel draped over his head. His silver hair peeks through, darkened by water, stray strands clinging to his forehead. He’s slow with his movements, lazy almost, dragging the towel through his hair before ruffling it out with one hand.
For the first time, you actually look at him. Not just a passing glance, not a flicker of acknowledgement,—but really look.
At the way the dim light carves shadows along his jawline—the cut of his jawline, the slight furrow in his brow, the way droplets trail down his collarbone before vanishing beneath the black tank clinging to his build—damp and unforgiving, outlining lean muscle and sharp edges.
There’s something effortlessly sharp about him, something dangerous in the way he simply carries his frame.
A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as his gaze flickers up, sweeping over you. Unbothered. Knowing. Like he’s caught you staring.
“Like what you see?” his voice drips with lazy amusement.
You blink, heat creeping up your neck before you compose your features.
“What is there to like?”
His smirk deepens, crimson eyes flickering with something teasing.
“You really are a shortcake.” He smugs as his gaze roams your body. “Looks like my clothes are trying to swallow you whole.”
You glance down. The oversized shirt hangs loosely off your shoulders, the hem brushing against your knees. The sweatpants are cinched at the waist, tied hastily to keep them from slipping.
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re built like a damn tree.”
Sylus snorts, shaking his head as he runs the towel over his hair one last time before tossing it onto the chair. “Move.”
He brushes past you, the scent of clean linen and faint sandalwood trailing behind him. The door clicks shut a second later, leaving you alone in the room.
For a moment, you simply stand there, staring at the empty space he left behind.
Then, with a slow, heavy breath, you make your way to the bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight, soft and warm—a stark contrast to the cold pavement you were curled up on just hours ago.
You sink into it, pulling the blankets over yourself, letting your body finally rest.
But sleep never comes.
Even as exhaustion tugs at your limbs, your mind refuses to quiet.
The storm still lingers beyond the windows, faint rumbles reverberating through the walls. Every moment from tonight replays, over and over again—
The laughter at the campfire.
Caleb’s dismissive jokes.
Caleb’s warmth, his head rested on your lap as the sun sets.
His voice, gentle, whispered—“I’m here, pipsqueak. I’m here.”
And the way the line cut before you could even finish your cry for help.
Your grip on the blanket tightens.
It’s pathetic. How much this hurts. How much he still has a hold on you, even when you know better.
You force yourself to listen to the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, gripping into your own palm like doing so could lull you to sleep.
The blanket feels too heavy. The air, too thick.
You shift onto your side, curling in on yourself, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the ache sitting heavy in your chest.
The shower stops, and a moment later, the bathroom door opens.
Sylus steps out, towel draped around his neck, silver hair still damp, a few strands clinging to his skin. The scent of clean linen and something sharp, something distinctly him, fills the space.
He says nothing, nor does he acknowledge you.
Instead, he crosses the room in that effortless, unhurried way of his, tossing the towel onto a nearby chair before grabbing something from his bag.
You watch from the corner of your eye as he settles into the chair beside the bed, flipping the book open like he’s done this a thousand times before.
Like you’re not lying there, curled up in his clothes, drowning in the silence between you.
Like this is just another one of his quiet nights.
The pages turn, slow and steady, the faint rustle of paper weaving into the distant cries of thunder.
Still, the way the thunder rumbles through the sky, rolling and crackling so close, makes your body tense on instinct. You will your breathing to steady, to calm. But your hands won’t stop trembling.
It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid.
The sudden change from the steady rhythm of pages turning to the faint tap of his fingers against his phone screen causes your brows to furrow in curiosity. You crack an eye open just enough to see him searching something up. His expression remains as impassive as ever, his crimson gaze flicking across the screen, scanning whatever article he’s pulled up.
Then—without warning—he gets up, grabs your blanket, and yanks it off you.
“H-Hey—!” You barely have time to react before he moves, fast and measured, rolling you over onto the bedspread like you weigh nothing.
“What the hell are you—“
He ignores you. Ignores your flailing arms, ignores your indignant protests, and swiftly tugs the blanket around you, tucking you in so tight you can barely move.
You blink, completely stunned. You stare up at him, utterly dumbfounded, as he looks down at you with a face that is, somehow, completely unbothered.
“What the fuck is this?”
Sylus simply plops back down into his chair, cool as ever.
“It’s what they say helps cats with anxiety attacks.” He gestures vaguely towards his phone. “Something about mimicking the feeling of safety.”
Silence. You blink at him.
Once.
Twice.
His lips twitch—just slightly. “You’re welcome.”
You stare at him in disbelief.
“What kind of dumb—this isn’t even—“ You wiggle, struggling against the tight wrap of the blanket. “Sylus, let me out.”
“No.
“Sylus.”
“They say chin scratches can also help calm cats down,” he smirks. “Would you want that too, kitten?”
You open your mouth to retort, but another loud crack of thunder cuts through the room. Your breath hitches before you can stop it.
Silence engulfs the room once more.
He flips to another page in his book.
“Do you hate it that much?” his eyes never leaving the words in front of him. “The thunders.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, hating the way your hands still tremble against the blanket.
“No.”
Sylus hums, the sound low, almost skeptical. He flips another page.
“Convincing. Really.”
You would never admit it, but the tight wrap of blanket around you created a protective barrier between you and the world.
Or perhaps it is the steady rhythm of his breathing. The calm, unshaken presence beside you.
Your eyelids grow heavier.
The storm still lingers outside.
But here, in this quiet space, it’s bearable.
And before you realize it—the world turns dark.
•
Your eyes shoot open.
The room is steeped in deep blue, the quiet hum of dawn settling over the world. The storm has long passed, leaving behind only the faint scent of rain lingering in the air.
You instinctively look around, your pulse quickening as the memories of last night rush in like a relentless wave.
The chair beside the bed is empty. The book he was reading is gone.
He isn’t here.
A strange feeling settles in your chest—one you don’t have the energy to name.
You push yourself up, the oversized fabric of his clothes slipping loosely around your frame.
Right. You need to go.
Sliding off the bed, you grab your things, moving as quietly as possible. The last thing you need is anyone seeing you sneaking out of a room that isn’t yours.
The hallways are eerily silent, save for the distant rustle of the ocean breeze slipping through an open window. You slip into your own room unnoticed, the door clicking shut behind you.
MC is still asleep, curled beneath the blankets, her breathing slow and steady.
You exhale, body weighed down with exhaustion as you strip out of Sylus’s clothes, replacing them with your own. The fabric is warm, familiar.
Sliding your phone onto the charger, you finally crawl into bed, slipping under the covers beside MC.
She stirs slightly, shifting at the dip in the mattress, but doesn’t wake.
The silence stretches, the soft rhythm of her breathing lulling you into something close to peace.
You close your eyes.
•
You’re jolted awake by MC’s sudden exclaim.
“Oh my god, Yn!”
Your eyes snap open, the soft haze of sleep vanishing in an instant. MC is hovering over you, her phone clutched tightly in one hand, her brows furrowed in concern.
“Where the hell were you last night?!” she demands, voice a mix of worry and exasperation. “I called you like, a million times! I was this close to going out and looking for you—” She pauses, eyes narrowing slightly. “But, you know… how I am with thunders.”
You blink, mind sluggish, body too drained to react.
MC huffs, shoving her phone in your face. “Seriously, Yn. I was worried sick!”
You squint at the screen, barely making out the endless stream of missed calls and texts before you sigh, rubbing a hand down your face.
“Sorry,” you mumble. “I—”
What are you even supposed to say?
That you got caught in the rain? That you collapsed on the side of the road? That Sylus found you?
That you spent the night in his room?
Your throat tightens.
MC sighs, finally pulling back. “I swear, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day.” Her expression softens, the frustration fading into something quieter. “You okay?”
The concern in her voice makes your chest ache.
You force a small smile. “Yeah. Just… tired.”
MC watches you for a moment before nodding. “Alright. But don’t ever do that again, okay? If something’s wrong, you tell me.”
You nod, though you don’t say anything.
She plops back onto the bed, stretching her arms over her head. “Anyway, we have a long-ass day ahead of us. Let’s get moving before they start filming without us.”
You hum in agreement, pushing yourself up despite the weight still clinging to your limbs.
The moment your feet touch the floor, a faint dizziness creeps in, but you shake it off.
Today is going to be long. You just have to get through it.
MC chatters away as she gets ready, pulling out outfits and rummaging through her bag. She seems to have let go of last night’s worries, and for that, you’re grateful. You don’t have the energy to explain anything right now.
By the time you both leave the room, the sun has fully risen, painting the sky in warm golds and soft blues. The air is fresh, carrying the lingering scent of rain, but the storm from last night feels like a distant memory—like something only you remember.
When you arrive at the set, the atmosphere is already buzzing with energy. Crew members are setting up, actors are going over their lines, and the director is barking out instructions.
MC quickly joins the main cast, slipping into her role with ease, leaving you to find your own place among the side characters.
“Action!”
The day begins.
It’s hectic—far more chaotic than yesterday. Since most of the key scenes are scheduled to be filmed today, there’s barely a moment to breathe between takes.
You go through your role automatically, delivering lines, hitting your marks, going where you’re needed.
And yet, through the commotion, you can feel him.
“Action!”
You can see him in the crowd, practicing and discussing his lines.
You can see him placing his hand on MC’s head, telling her it’s okay she messed up her part.
“Action!”
Every now and then, between takes, you can see the way his eyes land on you, a certain look that you can’t quite place your finger on.
And every now and then, during any short break he can muster, you can see the way he tries to approach you.
But the simple thought of him makes you sick to your stomach.
“Yn—”
You slip away.
“Where were y—”
Someone calls you over before he can finish.
“Why didn’t you pick—”
Another take is called, forcing him back into position.
Every conversation dies before it can even begin, and you make no effort to change that.
You don’t want to face him yet.
You can’t.
“Action!”
Fortunately, the day is kind enough to be relentless, dragging you from scene to scene, making it easier to ignore the weight of his gaze, the questions lingering between you.
But as the hours pass, the sun burns hotter, the air grows heavier, and a dull ache creeps into your skull.
It’s subtle at first, just a faint throbbing behind your eyes.
“Action!”
Your limbs feel heavier, your head foggy, the world tilting ever so slightly.
You swallow, forcing yourself to focus.
It’s nothing. Just exhaustion. Just the heat. Just the fact that you spent last night soaking wet in the cold for hours.
“Action!”
You push through.
A hand reaches for yours.
“Hey—are you oka—“
“I’m fine, Caleb.” You snap, finally turning to face him, snatching your touch away from his.
You look over his shoulder to find MC waving for him.
“MC’s looking for you,” you state, turning away just as quickly.
“You don’t look—“
The set sweeps him away once more.
The heat is unbearable. It sticks to your skin, clings to your lungs, burrows into your skull with a relentless pulse. Every sound around you—voices, instructions, the scuffling of feet on set—blurs into a distant hum.
“Action!”
You should sit down. You should stop.
But you don’t.
You push through, following the motions, forcing your body to move despite the dull, throbbing ache radiating from your temple.
The sun beats down harder.
Your limbs feel heavy. Your vision swims.
Something is wrong.
“Act—“
A sudden shift—the ground tilts beneath you.
The world spirals. Your stomach churns—everything is slipping too fast.
And then—a firm grip catches your wrist.
Through the haze, crimson eyes lock onto yours, sharp and assessing.
You don’t understand how, don’t understand why— but subtly, nearly imperceptibly—the sharpness in his eyes narrows, just slightly.
His grip tightens.
“It’s not called a dance if there’s no one to catch you when you dip,” a teasing smirk crawls up his face.
You narrow your eyes, a frown following closely.
“Let me go,” you demand, pulling your hand from his. To your dismay, he does not budge.
Sylus hums, tilting his head slightly, his crimson eyes flickering with amusement.
“Let you go?” He scoffs lightly. “Sweetheart, you nearly face-planted in front of half the set. If it weren’t for me, you’d be eating sand right now.”
A flush of heat creeps up your neck—whether from frustration or fever, you don’t know.
“But it did look like you were throwing yourself into my arms just now…”
Your jaw tightens. “I wasn’t—“
“You were.” He grins, lazy and insufferable, before tapping his temple. “Don’t worry, I’ll be generous and let you blame it on heat exhaustion. But next time, try asking before you faint dramatically into my arms, yeah?”
A scoff pushes past your lips, hot and irritated. “I didn’t—“
He cuts you off again, eyes narrowing in mock thought. “Actually, should I be offended? You didn’t even call my name. Isn’t that what damsels in distress do?”
He shifts his grip to hook an arm securely around your waist, pulling you closer as your knees wobble.
You slap at his arm. “I can stand just fine.“
“Sure.” He drawls the word out, clearly not convinced. “If by ‘just fine’ you mean ‘barely upright and just one second away from proving me right.’”
Your glare sharpens, pushing his body away from you. However, your body betrays you as your knees struggle to find balance, causing you to lean just slightly into his hold.
Sylus smirks.
“You love proving me right, don’t you?”
You groan. “Just let me go, Sylus.”
Before he can answer, another presence looms in.
“Yn.“
The teasing weight of Sylus’s words vanishes in an instant.
You tense.
The air shifts—sharp, tight, suffocating.
Sylus’s smirk doesn’t falter, but the amusement in his eyes dims, replaced with something much more calculating.
“I’ll take it from here.”
Caleb takes a step forward, his expression unreadable—but his tone isn’t.
“Let go.”
A muscle in Sylus’s jaw twitches as his gaze sweeps over Caleb, the amusement curling at his lips deepening.
“That’s funny,” he muses, low and almost thoughtful.
Caleb’s eyes darken. “I said, let go.”
Sylus tilts his head slightly, gaze dipping back to you.
“Mm.” His voice drops lower, amusement flickering at the edges. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
The tension snaps tight between them—like a drawn blade, waiting to be swung.
You exhale sharply, yanking your wrist away from Sylus. Caleb’s presence itself is enough to push you off the edge, adding the tension between the two and your head splitting in half definitely does not help.
“I’m fine. I can walk. You two have scenes to film—go do that instead of hovering over me,” you mutter, your glare shifting between them.
Neither of them move.
You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Seriously. I just need some rest. Go.”
Sylus studies you for a beat longer, then— with an infuriating smirk, he raises both his hands in a mock display of surrender.
“Whatever you say, kitten.”
He steps back, turning without another word. But, even if you’ve just known him for a few days, you’re well too accustomed to that glint in his eyes. He’s entertained—like he just witnessed something far more amusing than it should be.
You roll your eyes, turning to leave—only to find Caleb following closely behind.
You stop in your tracks.
“Caleb.”
“You’re sick,” he states simply, as if that explains everything.
You let out an exhausted sigh. “I just need a nap. The sun’s too hot. You have a job to do. Go.”
“I’ll take you to your room.”
You groan. “I don’t need you to—“
“Yn.”
Something in the way he says your name—low, quiet, edged with something almost like a puppy left alone—makes your breath hitch.
You swallow, annoyance and fatigue surfacing your expression.
“Fine. Do whatever you want.”
You start walking. Caleb falls into step beside you, silent. The set bustles behind you, voices and movement filling the space. But between you and Caleb, the silence is louder.
The walk back is slow. The ground beneath you feels unsteady, your legs sluggish with exhaustion. The day had been merciless—your body drained from the heat, the lingering weight of last night clawing at your bones.
“I didn’t,” you murmur.
“You almost did.”
You finally reach your door, the cool AC left running inside brushes away a part of your exhaustion.
The door clicks shut behind you. You turn to face him, arms crossed.
“Alright. You walked me back. You can go now.”
Caleb doesn’t move. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets. “Kicking me out already?” he says with his usual playful tone, a grin plastered on his face.
“Out.”
Caleb sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I just—why didn’t you say anything? You looked like you were about to collapse back there.” He slowly approaches you, placing one hand on your forehead and another on his. “You’re burning up.”
A deep frown crawls up your face, annoyance filling your senses. You swat his hand away, taking an unsteady step backwards.
“Get out, Caleb, I want to be alone.”
His eyes widen ever so slightly, taken aback by your response. A soft chuckle slips past his lips—one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave. Right after I tuck you in.”
You let out a sharp breath, exasperated, but too drained to argue. Caleb takes a step closer, reaching for the blanket, but you snatch it before he can.
“Caleb—“
“You didn’t answer my calls.” The shift is almost imperceptible. His voice is steady, but there is an edge to it—like he is holding something back. His jaw is tense, something unreadable flashing behind his violet eyes.
Your breath catches for half a second and you grip on the blanket tightens, but you school your expression. “My phone was dead.”
“Where were you last night?” His voice is still too calm. Too measured.
You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose, exhaustion pressing into your skull. “Caleb—“
“Do you know how long I spent looking for you?” his tone is lighter than it should be, laced with something almost amused—but his eyes, his stance, the slight clench of jaw betray him. “I ran through the rain like a desperate idiot, calling for your name like a lunatic, only for you to act like I don’t exist the next day?”
His voice isn’t desperate. It’s frustrated.
You don’t know what to say to that. Instead, you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head.
“Yeah? That worried? Sure, Caleb. Sure,” you pause. “Do you expect me to be grateful?” sarcasm drips from your words.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” his eyes narrow.
“No? Then what are you saying?” You cross your arms, a bitter laugh slipping past your lips. “Because I remember calling you. I remember my hands shaking so bad I almost dropped my phone. I remember hearing your voice and thinking, ‘finally.’” Your throat tightens. “And then I remember you cutting the line.”
Caleb stares at you, his expression unreadable.
“I was in the middle of god knows where, drenched like a drowning dog, kneeled down on the road next to some fucking dumpster,” you continue, voice shaking despite yourself. “But it wasn’t a great time. You were busy.” A humorless laugh leaves your quivering lips.
His jaws ticks.
“You know how MC is with thunders,” he says, voice quieter now. Almost defensive. “But as soon as she fell asleep— I didn’t think—“
“Exactly.” Your words are barely above a whisper. “You didn’t think. Had you paid a little more attention, you would’ve known I hated the thunder too.”
Something in his face shifts. His breath catches. For the first time since you met him, he looks like he miscalculated.
The silence is thick, suffocating. His gaze lock onto yours, searching—for what you weren’t sure.
Finally, he exhales through his nose, looking away. His hand grips the doorknob, knuckles paling slightly.
His voice is quieter when he speaks again. “I didn’t know.”
A bitter smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah. You didn’t.”
He remains there for a second longer, a shadow of something you can’t quite place flickering behind his eyes. You inhale sharply, steadying yourself, pressing a hand against your temple as a dull ache throbs inside your head.
“I’m very—very—tired,” you continue, voice barely above a breath. “So just… let me rest, Caleb.”
His jaws tightens. He shifts his weight, like he wants to say something—like there’s something sitting heavy on his tongue—but in the end, he exhales through his nose, slow and steady,
His voice, when he finally speaks, is quiet. Strained.
“…Get some rest, then.”
His fingers twitch at his sides. He slowly place his hand on your head, ruffling it softly—the way that has always brought butterflies to your stomach. His violet eyes flicker, scanning you—your unsteady stance, the way you press against your temple, the exhaustion settling deep in your features. Something flashes behind his gaze. But just as quickly, it’s gone.
He takes a step back. Then another.
He tilts his head slightly, studying you one last time—not with amusement, not with his usual lazy charm or playfulness, but with something much quieter. Much heavier.
“Try not to sleep through dinner, shortcake.” His usual grin flickers at the edges, forced, strained, before turning his heel.
Click.
— Borrowed time, part 1
‼️Caleb x reader. Reader not MC. University AU. Modern AU. Angst angst angst!
Everyone knows Caleb is in love with MC. Everyone. Including you. But that does not stop him from flirting with you, teasing you, keeping you close. And it definitely doesn’t stop you from falling for him—even when you know you’re just a stand-in, a place holder.
“Can’t we just enjoy the moment without making things complicated?”
word count = 5.3k
i poured my soul into this pls be kind 😭
part 2
The fresh scent of flowers lingered in the air as a cool breeze rushed past you. You tucked your hair behind your ear, gripped your bag tighter, and glanced at the university entrance.
A nervous breath escaped your lips. “Here we go.”
Laughter and chatter filled the air, students scattered across the school grounds. Some waved goodbye to their parents, celebrating their child’s first day at the country’s top university. Others rushed toward their friends, voices overlapping in a symphony of excitement.
“Do you even know the way to your class?” a concerned voice rang out.
“Pfft. Pa-lease! I can find my way around on my own,” the other answered confidently. “You, on the other hand, should not be late to your class, up-per-class-man.” She jabbed a finger into his chest, punctuating each syllable.
His laugh overtook all the others in the area. “Right, right. Text me when you get to your class, pipsqueak.” He smiled and ruffled her hair.
“Ugh! You’re messing up my hair!” she groaned, swatting his hand away.
She pushed him—harder than she realized.
A sudden force knocked into you, sending you off balance. Your stomach lurched—before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you, steadying you in place. A shriek escaped your lips.
“I’m so sorry!” he blurted out, pulling back just as quickly.
You pushed him off, steadying yourself, ignoring the faint trace of his cologne still lingering in the air.
“Oh my god, I didn’t see you!” A girl rushed forward, grabbing your hands like she’d known you forever. Her enthusiasm pierced through your ears, but her wide-eyed concern softened the frustration building in your chest.
“Are you okay? That was my fault!”
Your eyes met hers—bright, warm, and completely sincere.
“…Yeah, I’m fine.” The irritation dissolved as you took in her worried expression. “It’s okay.”
She beamed, relief washing over her. “I’m Michaela. What’s your name?”
It was history from then on.
•
You found out she was in the same year and major as you, and you became best friends almost instantly. Naturally, that meant getting close to him too—Caleb, as he introduced himself.
You also learned that you shared the same minor with him, so despite everything, you’d be seeing him in class.
It is another mundane day. You get to class and put your bag down on a seat, plopping your body down on the chair. A sigh leaves your lips as you look at your phone to check the time.
8:45. Having a class this early should be illegal.
You put your earphones on, hushing the quiet of the room with a faint song. You close your eyes as you wait for the others to reach.
“You’re early, kiddo,” his hand on your head pull you out of your daze. Your eyes shoot open and is met by a large yawn.
“I cant afford to be late again. I’m one mark away from failing the morning classes,” you groan as you tug off your earphones.
A sheepish smile tugs at his lips as his hand lingers a little too long in your hair, ruffling it just enough to mess it up before pulling back—slowly, like he enjoys the way it falls back into place.
He settles into the seat next to you, elbow propped against the desk, body angled toward yours.
“You need someone to wake you up in the morning?” he teases, his voice dipping just enough to make it sound like an offer.
“Are you offering?” you tilt your head, raising a brow.
Caleb grins, lazy and amused. “I wouldn’t want my shortcake failing a class I’m in,” he muses, tapping a knuckle lightly under your chin. The touch is fleeting, barely there, but enough to make your breath hitch. “Who else would I have to mess with?”
You’re used to the nickname he has given you now. It used to annoy the shit out of you, how he used to tease about you being below his shoulders or how you have to tiptoe to reach for something— shortcake, that’s where the name came from. You scoff, swatting his hand away. “Wow, I feel so valued.”
He chuckles, low and effortless, settling into his seat. “You should. I don’t just give my attention to anyone, y’know.”
“Oh? So I’m special?” You flash him a smug look, crossing your arms.
Caleb tilts his head, pretending to consider it. “Mmm… yeah, let’s call it that.”
He leans in just slightly, just enough to invade your space but not quite touch. His lips quirk up as he lowers his voice just for you to hear.
“…Or maybe I just like how cute you look when you get all flustered.”
You blink, heat creeping up your neck, but you refuse to let him win.
“So you admit it,” you say, keeping your tone light and teasing. “You think I’m cute.”
Caleb laughs, leaning back like he’s completely unbothered. “Shortcake, I’ve been saying that since day one. Keep up.”
His confidence is so insufferable you can’t help but roll your eyes. “God, I feel bad for all the freshmen falling for your charm.”
“Falling for it?” He raises a brow, smirking. “You say that like you’re not included, sweetheart.”
The nickname makes your stomach do a stupid little flip, but you mask it with a scoff. “Please, I’m completely immune to your antics.”
“Uh-huh.” Caleb leans in again, resting an elbow on the desk while watching you like he’s amused by a private joke. “Is that why your ears are turning red?”
Your hand immediately flies to your ear, and Caleb bursts out laughing.
“Wow,” you deadpan. “Upperclassmen really are the worst.”
“Aww, but I’m your favorite, aren’t I?” He tilts his head, smiling like he already knows the answer.
You roll your eyes at him. “Your confidence is getting to your head.”
Caleb’s hearty laugh fills the room, his presence naturally drawing attention. More students trickle in, filling the seats, and as expected, the weight of lingering gazes settles around you.
The girls steal quick glances at the man beside you, their whispers barely concealed. The boys, on the other hand, greet Caleb with easy familiarity, taking their places around him like it’s second nature.
It’s nothing new. You’re used to it.
“Hey, Yn,” a voice cuts through the chatter.
You glance over as Matt slides into the seat beside you, grinning.
“Hey, Matt,” you reply, offering a small smile.
“You coming to the party tomorrow?” he asks, leaning in just enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne.
Before you can answer, Caleb hums beside you, loud enough to interrupt.
“What party?” he asks, resting an arm on the back of your chair like he’s settling in for the conversation.
Matt glances at him, unfazed. “The one at James’ place. Pretty much everyone’s going.”
Caleb nods slowly, then shifts his gaze to you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “And here I thought shortcake wasn’t the party type.”
You scoff, crossing your arms. “I can be fun.”
“Oh, yeah?” Caleb smirks, tapping a lazy rhythm against the desk. “Guess I’ll have to see it for myself, then.”
You raise a brow. “Wait—are you going?”
Caleb shrugs, his smirk never faltering. “Wouldn’t want my shortcake getting lost in the crowd, would I?”
Matt laughs, shaking his head. “Man, you’re acting like she needs a babysitter.”
Caleb tilts his head, looking at you like he’s thinking about something. Then, with obnoxious ease, he says, “Nah, just wouldn’t want her getting scooped up by some guy with bad intentions.”
Matt raises a brow. “And what, you’ve got good intentions?”
Caleb grins. “Not at all. But at least she knows mine.”
The room erupts in laughter, but your heart stumbles over itself for half a second.
Because there’s something about the way he says it—like it’s a joke, but not entirely.
You roll your eyes, forcing a smirk. “Right. So you’re just going for me, huh?”
Caleb doesn’t even blink. “Why do you look surprised?”
And maybe it’s just your imagination, but for a moment, his gaze lingers, just a second too long.
Matt scoffs, turning his attention to the professor entering the room. “Text me once you’ve made your mind, Yn.”
“Sure,” you answer, unaware of the furrow crawling its way up Caleb’s face. However, you don’t miss the way Caleb’s fingers stop their lazy tapping against the desk.
The class went by agonizingly slowly. You twirl your pen in your hands, scribbling stuff down to keep yourself from knocking out. The next thing you know, you feel a poke on your cheeks.
“You better get up before people see your drool,” Caleb smirks.
You quickly covered your face and wipe off the drool as Caleb laughs. You furrow your brows, feeling the embarrassment crawling up your face.
“I didn’t drool!”
“Sure, sure, whatever you say, shortcake,” he chuckles.
You both left for your next classes and the day quickly came to an end.
•
“You going to the party tomorrow?” You ask MC as you walk out of the campus.
She ponders for a second before answering, “Nah. I’m not big on parties and have so much work piling up,” she whines. “You should go, though! Have fun for both of us.”
Her sheepish smile never fails to bring one to your face as well. “I’m still deciding too.”
MC suddenly stops in her tracks, an excited gleam sparkles in her eyes.
“Are you free today, though?”
“Yeah… Why?” You suspiciously eye her.
Before you know it, you are at the mall, arms linked with hers as she weaves through the racks of clothes. “I just need one dress,” she says. “Fifteen minutes, tops.”
You should’ve known better.
It’s been forty five minutes and counting.
You dont mind, really. Shopping with her is familiar, easy. She’s the type to hold up dresses in front of you and make you spin for her, laughing as she debates which colour would fit her best.
And then her phone buzzes.
As soon as she unlocks it, her smile grows wider.
You dont even have to ask who it is.
She taps on her phone, giggles, and shoves her phone in your face.
Caleb [5:36 PM]: wya?
MC [5:37 PM]: Shopping. Why?
Caleb [5:37 PM]: Need me to carry your stuff? ;)
MC [5:37 PM]: You know me too well
“Caleb’s coming,” she beams.
You nod. It isn’t really anything out of the ordinary.
Unsurprisingly, a few minutes later, he’s here.
He slides into the store like he belongs there, like he already knew exactly where MC would be.
“Alright,” he sighs, grabbing the bags from her hands with ease. “What am I hauling this time?”
MC beams at him, poking his side. “A gentleman and a mind-reader. No wonder all the girls want you.”
The Caleb smirks, like it’s a well-worn joke between them. The joke mirrors the one you had with him this morning. But somehow, the interaction feels much… different.
Deeper. Warmer.
Like it belongs to them.
You watch as MC doesn’t hesitate to press a dress against Caleb’s chest, measuring the colour against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t joke, doesn’t make a big deal out of it.
Like it’s always been this way.
Just like the way he doesn’t just carry her bags— he takes them before she even asks. The way he doesn’t just respond— he already knows what she’ll say. The way she doesn’t have to tease to get a reaction— he’s already looking at her like she’s the only thing in the room.
And you— watching. Like you always do.
Eventually, MC disappears into the dressing room, leaving you and Caleb alone.
“Having fun?” Caleb drawls, lazily shifting the shopping bags in his hands. His gaze falling onto you for the first time this evening.
You huff, crossing your arms. “Oh, the best time. Watching you two be so disgustingly in sync is exactly how I wanted to spend my evening,” you joke. But somehow, it stings a little.
Caleb laughs, light and amused. “What, jealous I didn’t offer to carry your stuff too?”
You raise a brow, feigning thoughtfulness. “Maybe I just wanna see if I get the same VIP treatment.”
His smirk wides, “You want me to spoil you, shortcake? Should’ve just said so.”
It’s easy, the way he flirts with you. But it’s just that— easy.
MC steps out of the dressing room, and immediately— probably unconsciously too— he straightens.
“Thoughts?” she twirls.
“Get it.” His response is instant.
MC laughs. “What do you think, Yn?”
You smile, pushing the uneasiness down. “You’re pretty in everything you wear, MC.”
“You got a good eye, Yn,” Caleb adds, his eyes never leaving her. “It looks good on you.”
The warmth in his voice is undeniable.
It’s the way he doesn’t say it playfully, doesn’t throw in a teasing nickname, doesn’t smirk.
It’s the way you fall into the background.
The ride home was unbearably normal. MC chats away about weekend plans, upcoming assignments, something funny she saw on TikTok.
Caleb hums along, adding in a sarcastic comment here and there. His eyes are glued on the road sparing a few glances her way.
You sit at the back seat, nodding at the right moments, but your mind is already made up.
You need a break. From this. From them.
From him.
So when you see Matt’s notification—
Matt [7:03 PM]: You coming tmr?
You don’t even hesitate.
You [7:24 PM]: Yeah
•
The bass thumps against your chest the moment you step inside. The air is thick with laughter, sweat, and the sharp bite of alcohol.
You exhale, rolling your shoulders back.
You’re here to forget.
Forget the way he looks at MC like she’s his entire world. Forget the way your own heart stupidly flips when he looks at you.
“Yn! You finally show up!” Matt calls out to you as you maneuver through the thick crowd, pulling you into the group he is in.
“Guys, this is Yn,” he introduced you to the group. “Hi!” you shout through the music, a nervous smile crawls up your face.
You’re not used to this setting— the alcohol, the mingles, the thumping of music, the proximity, the lights and colours. Every thing is making you drunk, even before you’ve touched any alcohol.
One of the guys whistles. “Oh! You’re that third wheel between Caleb and Michaela!”
Hah.
The third wheel.
“Forget it, we’re here to have fun tonight!” someone else chirped in as he handed you a drink. You’re not sure what it is— it’s not like you care anyways.
“Yeah,” I force a smile as you drown the drink. The alcohol stings your breath, its heat slowly goes down your chest. You slowly exhale, welcoming the warmth that spreads through you.
The alcohol burns, but it’s a different kind of ache—one that numbs instead of sharpens. It’s exactly what you need.
You roll your shoulders back, forcing yourself to relax.
Forget it. Forget him.
The music pounds through your veins as Matt laughs beside you, clinking his drink against yours. “That’s the spirit.” He’s a bit too close. You can feel his body pressed against yours.
But maybe thats what you want right now.
You let yourself sink into the noise, the bodies moving around you, the way everything blurs at the edges. Someone pulls you into a conversation, another offers you another drink, and soon enough, you’re laughing at something you barely even hear. Bodies push and pull, you sway with the beats, lost in the moment, the lights, the colours, the intoxication.
For the first time in a while, you almost feel—
“You didn’t tell me you were coming, shortcake.”
Your stomach drops.
That voice—smooth, amused, effortlessly familiar.
Your entire body tenses before you even turn around.
And when you do, there he is.
Caleb.
Standing way too close, a drink in one hand, the other shoved lazily into his pocket. His hair is slightly tousled, his sleeveless shirt making it impossible not to notice the way his toned arms shift as he leans in.
But none of that matters.
Because Caleb doesn’t go to these parties.
Everyone knows that.
And yet—he’s here.
Your jaw tightens as you glance at him, forcing a smirk. “Didn’t think you liked these things.
He grins. “I don’t.”
Your brows knit together. “Then what are you doing here?”
He hums, taking a slow sip of his drink before tilting his head at you. “What do you think?”
Your grip tightens around your cup.
He’s messing with you. Like always.
And you should ignore it, should walk away before you let him ruin this night for you—
But you don’t.
You can’t.
Instead, you match his energy, your own lips curling into a smirk.
“Well, hope you’re not expecting me to entertain you,” you quip, voice light, teasing. “I’m actually busy.”
“Busy, huh?” He raises a brow, clearly amused. His gaze flickers past you, scanning the group you came with.
Your pulse quickens.
He’s not jealous. You know that.
But the way his eyes narrow just slightly, the way he lingers—like he’s assessing something, calculating something—
It almost feels like he is.
And for some stupid, reckless reason, you want to test it.
So you shrug, taking another sip of your drink. “Yeah. Matt has been real good company today.”
Caleb’s laugh is slow, deep, and entirely too amused.
“Interesting,” he repeats, nodding slightly. “Guess that means I should try harder, huh?”
Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the music.
“Caleb!”
A girl stumbles forward, eyes wide. “Oh my god, I didn’t think you’d actually come!”
Heads start turning. More people flock toward him, pulling him into their circle.
And just like that—you’re being pushed back.
You watch as Caleb greets them with that easy, sheepish grin—the one that makes everything look so effortless. The crowd bombards him with the same teasing remarks as always.
“Damn, what happened? Where’s your girl tonight?”
They don’t need to say her name. Everyone knows.
MC.
She’s not here. And somehow, Caleb being here without her is more surprising than him being here at all.
But he doesn’t seem bothered. He just chuckles, shaking his head.
“She doesn’t need me today.”
The words shouldn’t mean anything. But they do.
But before you can even process it, his gaze shifts and
Lands on you.
And his next words knock the breath from your lungs.
“Besides,” Caleb muses, voice light, playful, teasing— “Someone else probably needs me more right now.”
The crowd erupts.
“Ooooh, damn! Who’s the unlucky girl getting swept off her feet while your girl isn’t here to keep you in check?”
Caleb’s smile grows. Slowly, lazily.
He tilts his head, feigning innocence.
“What do you mean, unlucky?”
They laugh. They cheer.
You stand there, watching, feeling every single emotion crash into you at once.
Because they’re joking. Because he’s joking.
But somehow, you cannot muster a smile up your face.
He probably saw your face, or the look in your eyes, or probably the way your lips seem to tense a bit more.
He quickly finishes the drink in his hand, and someone quickly hands him another.
“Thanks,” he flashes a warm smile to the girl who hands him the drink as he reaches for it, brushing his hands softly against hers.
She’d probably replay the scene over and over for the next week.
His eyes finds yours once more before swiftly slipping out of the group of people.
You quickly turn away, desperate to vanish somewhere.
Anywhere.
Today was supposed to be a day without him.
However, your body betrays you. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps it’s the lingering sting of his gaze, perhaps it’s just him. The world tilts, and before you can catch yourself—
A strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his chest and stabling you on your feet.
“How many drinks have you had?” His voice low, edged with amusement, but there’s something else in it, something almost concerned.
You barely process his words because his chest is against yours, his breath warm against your temple.
You exhale, hands instinctively gripping his shirt as you try to steady yourself— not just from the dizziness, but from everything else.
Too close. He’s too close.
And he knows it.
His grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens, his fingers pressing just slightly against the curve of your waist.
“You good?” he murmurs, voice dropping just a little lower.
You swallow, ignoring the way your heart pounds against your ribs.
“I’m fine,” you manage, but your voice betrays you— it’s softer, breathier than you meant it to be.
Caleb smirks.
“That so?”
He doesn’t let go.
Instead, he leans in just a fraction closer, eyes flickering down—to your lips, to the way your breath hitches.
It’s a game. You both know it’s a game.
“I heard people say you were looking for a distraction,” his voice dips, low and deliberate. His fingers trail lightly along your spine, just enough to make you shiver.
“Was Matt a good distraction?”
A pause.
His thumb brushes against your hip.
“Or do you want something more… intoxicating?”
Your breath catches.
All you can feel is the thumping of your heart against your ears, his low voice teasing your pulse, his warmth consuming you.
“I see the way you react to me,” he murmurs.
His fingers tighten, pulling you closer, his lips barely grazing your ear now.
“The distraction you want… it’s a distraction from me, isn’t it?”
His hand trails up, brushing the exposed skin of your arm.
“You don’t have to say it,” he muses, eyes glinting.
Your hands clutch at his shirt, unsteady, breathless.
“You like this, don’t you?” Caleb murmurs, his voice impossibly smooth, seductive.
Your throat tightens, but you don’t pull away.
You don’t deny it.
You can’t.
And he smirks, because he knows.
“Good.” His lips ghost over the curve of your jaw, not quite kissing, just enough to tease.
“Because I like yours too.”
His voice dips lower, slower— almost like a confession.
The world spins, but this time, it’s not from the alcohol.
Your grip on his shirt becomes tighter, if it’s even possible. He leans even closer, his breath warm against your lips, hovering— teasing, testing, waiting.
For you to pull away.
For you to stop him.
But you don’t.
You close your eyes, letting him consume you. He closes the distance his lips pressing into yours with slow, unhurried intent. There’s no rush, no urgency— just a deliberate pull, like he wants you to feel every second of it.
His hand on your waist tightens, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath catch. His other hand finds the curve of your jaw, tilting your face up, deepening the kiss like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips.
He moves— presses deeper, pulls you closer—
And deliberately, it turns hungrier. Slow, but consuming.
Like he’s claiming you— if only for this moment.
His teeth graze your bottom lip, a light tug, a silent dare.
Your fingers snake to the crevice of his neck, pulling him in like you don’t want this to end.
You somehow find a way to a secluded corner, and he pushes your back against the wall. He rests his arm on the side of your head, balancing his weight on the wall as his other hand rests protectively at your waist. His lips leave yours, trailing kisses down your neck. His teeth grazes your skin, earning gasps and small involuntary noises from you.
His lips drag along your pulse, slow and teasing, a deliberate contrast to the heat pooling between you.
You don’t even realize your fingers are tugging his hair, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you steady.
Caleb chuckles against your skin, the sound low, smug— satisfied.
“You sound so sweet,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the spot just below your jaws.
“Caleb…” you breathe. “What does this mean?” The air suddenly turn thick as the words slip out before you can stop them.
Maybe it’s because you don’t want to believe that the one towering you right now is simply using you as a distraction from the girl he longs for. Maybe it’s because you want to hear an answer that would put the pit in your stomach at bay. Maybe you want to hear a lie that’ll at least make this moment feel more real. Or maybe you’re just too drunk on everything.
You swallow. “What are we?”
You feel his smirk against your skin before he nips at it, just enough to make your breath hitch.
His hand on your waist tightens, grounding you, holding you in place as he trails even lower. Then he exhales a quiet laugh— low, breathy, like you’ve asked something ridiculous.
His lips brush your ear.
“Why do we have to be anything?”
He leans back just enough to look at you, and there’s something in his eyes— something unreadable, something you wish you could hold onto.
“Isn’t this enough?”
His fingers trail up your arm, slow, lazy, desperate. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”
Your breath catches.
His thumb strokes along your jaw, coaxing you, soothing you. “I know you like this,” he murmurs, his voice a slow, dangerous drawl.
And then—he smiles.
That same playful, easy, charming smile.
Like this is just another game.
Like it isn’t breaking you apart.
“Just enjoy it, shortcake.”
He kisses you again before you can respond.
“Don’t over complicate things.”
You should say something, you should fire back—
But then he sucks at the sensitive skin near your collarbone, and all that escapes you is a sharp gasp.
He chuckles again, pleased. “That’s what I thought.”
His hand slides up your side, slow, lingering—like he enjoys the way your body reacts to him.
Like he enjoys this.
And somehow, that’s what makes your stomach tighten the most—
Not just his touch, or his lips, or the way he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to let go—
But the way he seems to want this as much as you do.
Like for once, he’s here with you.
Not her.
You let that thought sink in, drown in it, just for tonight.
Because tomorrow, this moment won’t exist.
But then, the dream came to an abrupt pause.
PING
The sound cuts through the haze, through the heat, through everything. Caleb stops whatever he was doing. His hands leave your body, his warmth fades, leaving you a breathless mess against the wall.
He exhales, sweeping his hair back as he pulls out his phone.
Your eyes fall to his lips, the way it’s a bit swollen with smudges of your lipstick faintly staining him.
Then— a smile.
Not the teasing, cocky smirk he likes to throw your way. It’s a warm, heart-wrenching smile that reaches his eyes.
You don’t need to see the screen to know.
MC.
“I gotta go,” he murmurs, eyes still glued to the phone, fingers moving quickly as he types.
You don’t say anything.
You cant.
“Don’t get home too late, shortcake,” he states, eyes still on the phone.
Without sparing you a glance, he turns away and disappears into the crowd.
And you—stupid, foolish you—
Just stand there.
Waiting for something that was never yours to begin with.
•
You force your eyes open only to be met with light piercing into your eyes. You are not sure how the night ended, or how you managed to pull yourself home. You shot up, quickly checking the time.
8:45. Fuck.
You push yourself from the bed, ignoring the pang in your head.
Running into class, you quickly open the door, heaving as you scan the room for seats.
“Yn!” a voice calls out.
You turn to the source, and sure enough, it’s him.
He pats the empty seat beside him. “Here.”
You hesitate.
For a second, just a second, you think maybe he’ll say something. Maybe he’ll acknowledge what happened last night.
Maybe he’ll give you something.
But Caleb just leans back in his seat, grinning like always. Like nothing happened.
Like his hands weren’t all over you.
Like his lips weren’t on yours.
Like he didn’t leave you standing there, breathless and alone.
“C’mon, shortcake,” he drawls, patting the empty seat beside him. “I saved you a seat.”
You swallow, legs moving before your mind can catch up, and you take the seat.
And he smirks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes like he wasn’t out ruining you the night before.
He’s joking.
Laughing.
Acting like last night was nothing.
Like you’re nothing.
And you force yourself to laugh along.
•
The day goes by like any other day. You find yourself sitting with MC and Caleb, grabbing dinner at a nearby restaurant you frequent as soon as the day ends.
“So… how was last night?” she asks.
You pause, unsure of what to say. “It was okay,” you finally say. “I was a total mess.”
“Caleb told me he dropped by. Did you guys meet there?”
“No,” he answers. “There were too many people, I wouldn’t have been able to find shortcake there even if I was sober!” he jokes.
A pit builds in your stomach. You’re not sure of what to feel, how to react.
So you smile.
“True.”
MC drabble on, talking about how she suddenly had an urge for a late night meal and Caleb was kind enough to bring one to her in the middle of last night.
“I didn’t ruin your fun, right?” she turns to Caleb.
“You know I have the most fun with you, pipsqueak,” he chuckles, pinching her nose.
Oh. So that’s why he left.
They probably talked more about useless stuff. You can’t really comprehend what the conversations are about anymore. You excuse yourself, blaming it on the hangover and saying that you drank a little too much last night and need a sleep.
The moment you step out, the weight in your chest collapses. Your fingers tremble as you clutch your bag tighter, as you force your legs to move, one step after another, out the door, down the road, through the crowd.
Everything feels too bright, too loud, too much.
MC’s words echo in your head.
“I suddenly had an urge for a late-night meal, and Caleb was kind enough to bring me one.”
Your stomach twists.
That’s who he belongs to.
Not you. Never you.
You don’t even remember the walk home.
It’s a blur—like the rest of the night, like every moment you spent trying to convince yourself you were anything more than temporary.
By the time you come to, you’re curled up in the corner of your room, knees pulled tight to your chest, the darkness swallowing you whole.
You feel empty.
Not just sad, not just hurt—hollow.
Like last night never even happened.
Like you never even happened.
Your fingers tighten against your arms, nails digging into your skin as if pain could anchor you to something real.
But nothing about this is real.
You were a moment.
A passing indulgence.
A warm body for him to hold when the one he truly wanted wasn’t there.
And the worst part?
You let him.
Because even if it wasn’t real, even if it was just for a second—
At least for that moment, he was yours.
PING
Your phone lights up.
Caleb [7:04 PM]: I’m free tonight
Caleb [7:04 PM]: You didn’t eat a lot earlier
Caleb [7:05 PM]: You want porridge?
Caleb [7:07 PM]: I’m coming over
You stare at the screen until the phone dims once more.
PING
MC [7:10 PM]: UGH I have to stay late at the library tonight
MC [7:10 PM]: Some last minute thing came up with my group project
MC [7:11 PM]: Gotta be stuck here forever T_T
Oh.
👽Okarun/Ken Takakura from DanDaDan👽
Okay, I really disliked drawing this man's hair. I hope I never do it again. Thats it, thats the desc
💕Mizi and Sua from Alien Stage💕
💕Mizi and Sua from Alien Stage💕 AAAHHHHHH I started this like, a year ago when the mizisua video came out but I got so busy and forgot about it ;P. Glad I got to finish it tho, I like how it looks ^_^. I want to do a luka drawing at some point since he’s my fave character and maybe a hyuna too. Who knows, maybe I’ll make a series with the kid character ships lolol. On an art note, I’m quite relieved that I was able to draw child mizi and sua well (imo at least lol). I just don’t draw child characters often so in the beginning, I remember trying to get the vibe right as to not make them feel like small adults lol.
I'm sure its obvious but a lot of these were pre-scheduled posts from my IG since I've been lacking when it comes to posting here. Honestly, it's quite a joy to hang out here on tumblr. I was never that into it at it's peak as I primarily hung out on IG, but I'm not that social online to begin with. IG has been feeling super bloated these days and even if it didn't, I enjoy hanging out here. I'm lowkey inspired to write some OLBA Baxter fanfic. I've always liked the idea of story telling but I'm def one of those drawing turned story teller kids than vice versa lol. I'd like to really get into using this site going into the new year lolol. Hopefully I can post some lineart experimentation here too. I hope you guys enjoy what I dump out of my brain : )
👻Momo Ayase from DanDaDan👻
At the time of finishing this drawing, I finished watching DanDaDan with some friends of mine ^_^ Honestly, I just loved how some fanartists would make Momo's earing look like aliens cuz Okarun~ So I just had to do the same thing too!
🥄Ethan from Love Island the Game: Winning Hearts🥄
Oh em gee did I draw him too? Well yes I did ^w^ He a pretty boi you're welcome niche litg fandom
📗Satan from Obey Me!📗
Honestly I was really proud of myself with this drawing :3 With this one, I didn't use references much, especially with drawing his face. He just looks pretty, and I'm not even a satan girlie lolol. Hope you like him!
Lucifer Version
Mammon Version
Leviathan Version
🪷Hayden from Love Island the Game: Winning Hearts🪷
Omg its him. He was def my first option but when I went down ethans route for funnsies (and also because I vibe with his somewhat toxic characterization) and it made me so sad with how hayden acted, even though I know someone had to be the villain ToT Also, ngl this season fumbled so hard with the casa amour part. I was so enthusiastic for the option to be a casa girl because it just feels so much more compelling, especially with shaking up the status quo. Also, and I think the biggest part, was that it would've made me feel less like a mary sue with the random unfair treatment. It just puts me out of the immersion. Anyways, thats my rant from someone who wants to be a writer but doesn't write and is just an artist where everything exists in her head :P
💙Profile Picture💛
Ik that on this acc I've had my pfp changed for a while but this was my full drawing for said picture :3 I like it alot compared to the other pfps I've made cause it feels so much more ✨artistic✨So here is my persona! Ie, me but prettier with blue-yellow eyes and nicer piercings <3
🌊Leviathan from Obey Me!🌊
Ngl, I've been lacking when it comes to posting on this blog, which sucks cause I like tumblr a lot so far compared to a space like instagram. Anyways, here is my 3rd entry in my Obey Me series :D
Lucifer Version
Mammon Version
Satan Version
🌌Lucy Heartfilia from Fairy Tail🌌
I forgot I had this!! So imma post it now :3
Ive been rewatching (at the grand magic games arc) and I forgot how much I really liked Lucy lol. Back when I had my old old art acc, I posted the old lucy sketch on the last slide <3 The show is cringey with weird quirks (and crimes against humanity) but it also has a lot of heart in it, yaknow? Here's to the best celestial wizard that has been absolutely robbed by the show and its creator
