#this was supposed to be a drabble too

[perpetualcynicism]

“May I hold you?” you ask Jing Yuan one afternoon as you lie sun-warmed in his garden. 

You almost think he is asleep until he invites, “Please,” carrying a smile in his voice. 

With ginger movements, you reach over and place your hands on either side of his face. It begins as mere holding, but soon you find your touch roaming. You smooth your fingers over his eyebrows and trace down to each side of his jaw. From here your hands climb up again, and once more back down, mapping out each crevice and dip of his face, his skin, his bone, until you are certain there is no part of him remaining that you do not know better than you know yourself.

You play this game with yourself, sometimes. You imagine people not as people, but as planets. After all, what is a person anyway, if not a world of their own? You trace the ridge of his nose, and imagine there lies a mountain range. Around his eyes you find oceans. Where his cheeks dip, there are valleys, and a river runs between his lips.

“What are you doing?” Jing Yuan asks. There is an element of amusement to his question, but his voice is primarily gentle. Endeared.

You still your hands. They rest on his cheeks while your thumbs brush back and forth over his skin, holding him. Though the world melts back into the familiar shapes of his face, there is still an assured sturdiness to his features which is grounding; a gravity which draws you towards him, as if you were the moon to his planet. Small, perhaps, and bare, but casting light on him wherever you can.

You answer, “I think I’m holding the world in my hands.”

You feel Jing Yuan’s smile through the way his cheeks press into your palms. Two hands cover yours, large and calloused, but gentle, and hold yours securely in place against his face. There is the tender press of lips to your skin as he turns his head enough to kiss the inside of your palm.

You hear Jing Yuan’s smile through the way his words come warm and bright and filled with adoration. You wonder why you thought him a planet, when he is so clearly the sun.

“And I am being held by the universe.”

#i’m sorry i don’t know what this is #it’s past midnight and i needed to get this brainworm out #my thoughts are literally comprised of jing yuan these days and i don’t know how to fix it #enjoy this random and hopefully not-too-pretentiously-written drabble i suppose #(my writing style goes weird after midnight sometimes and i mistake myself for a poet (which i am most certainly not)) #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan

[teddybeartoji]

office au! with coworker!gojo

he's the type to always be a little late. by a little, i of course mean a lot. he always bursts in the door with the biggest smile on his lips and four coffees in his hand. he winks at his coworkers, who then always blush and giggle out a hi, satoru! and you always roll your eyes at that. satoru nods his male coworkers, who always try to dap him up and start a conversation but he doesn't have time for that. he has things to do. (as if he isn't literally Late smh)

he answers the guys' question while he's walking – his eyes set on his favourite coworker. you. sitting in your cubicle, you're trying to ignore him and his dramatic enterance. that he does every single day. how annoying can he be? before you can roll your eyes again, a cup of coffee has landed on your table, making you glance over your shoulder.

he's blinding you, his grin is stretched so wide it's almost a bit creepy. he's standing right behind you, leaning his hand on your table right next to where he just placed the coffee. he's way too close for a co-worker and you gulp.

ugh.

"aren't you gonna thank your favourite coworker for bringing you coffee? whew, tough crowd, huh." his smile doesn't falter and he just leans in closer, his cologne clouding your senses.

UGH.

and he really does do it every single fucking day. he brings you coffee and he annoys you and he makes your eyes roll so hard you almost go blind and you hate to admit that he's kinda cute... it's whatever.

back to the coffees. so one of them is for you – he knows your order because he dug out the receipt from your bag when you weren't looking on his second day there. he almost got caught, too. but he only did that because you didn't wanna tell him your order!! and he was so insistent on bringing you coffee that he just had to find another way. he loved the way your eyes widened and how you tried to mask your surprised expression but nothing gets past his keen eyes. when you asked how he did it, he just told you that he guessed it. yeah, right....

the second coffee is for him. it's an insanely sweet latte. how do you know? he made you try it. more liked begged for you to try it. you also hate to admit that his puppy-dog eyes worked on you... he only drinks the special latte from the corner coffee shop and he refuses to drink the office "coffee". he's fancy like that.

the third coffee is for his second favourite coworker – kento nanami! they sure make an interesting pair. kento is the main reason why satoru even got the job. the latter begged him to pitch for him to the boss; he was so excited by the concept of Office Work and just had to try it out. he, of course, passed the interview with flying colors and kento regrets his decision to "help" him out in the first place. satoru yaps his ears off whenever he isn't doing the same to you and he's constantly leaving little notes for the man. you once saw one and it just had a miniature penis drawn on it. very mature.

and the fourth coffee is for your boss. satoru isn't sucking up like you originally thought he was. you think he just wants to bring her coffee? your boss is cool – she's in her forties and she has a strong voice, everybody always listens to her and she really does make for a very good boss. your guess is that satoru has a crush on her. (you're wrong. he also just thinks she's super fucking cool. literally nothing else to it.)

he's always wearing a fancy white button-up with a black tie loosely hanging around his neck and a pair of matching black slacks that hug his thighs so nicely that the women and the men of the office are always finding it hard to not stare at them. he gets an obnoxious ego boost from this.

he's constantly leaning on other people's desks, pushing his hips out and it really is hard to concentrate whenever he does it. the pose and the smug smirk he sends you when he catches you looking is making you feel hot. he always catches you too, it's so annoying. why can't he just continue doing whatever he's doing so you can admire him in peace?

he's loud, he's annoying and he's so fucking good at his job that firing him couldn't even be a passing thought. he actually does his paperwork rather fast; often finishing before you and that gives him the time to tease you for being slow. he does that way less than you expected though. only a few times in a day – enough to annoy you but never enough to actually make you upset or angry. he actually helps you sometimes. he can tell you don't wanna ask and he doesn't wanna make you feel bad - he'd rather watch you roll your pretty eyes at his stupid jokes with a small hidden smile than roll them with a deep frustrated sigh. he learned that the hard way.

he loves your smile. more often than not you can't keep the straight face you try to put up with him, making your loud laughter resonate throughout the whole office. oh, how his eyes shine at that.

long story short. he's infuriating. he's funny. he's way too good at his job. he's way too handsome. you loathe working with him and yet, you can't stop smothering him in kisses whenever you two "happen" to meet in the printer room.

#coworker!gojo my favourite silly guy #LIKE HE'S WAYYY TOO GOOD-LOOKING #ILLEGAL #IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL #HOW IS ANYBODY SUPPOSED TO WORK IN THESE CONDITIONS SMH #sighhhh #i have more for him #bc this au has been living in my head for some time now #he's actually a sweetheart and he just wants to make u smile #what's new #it's not like i write about anything other than THAT #oops? #mickey is daydreaming #angel boy #gojo satoru #gojo satoru drabble #gojo satoru au #gojo satoru blurb #jjk #jjk au #jjk drabble #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen drabble #jujutsu kaisen au #satoru gojo #satoru gojo drabble #satoru gojo blurb #satoru gojo au

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。EASY — KAVEH.

✩ — contents ⋮ fluff, gn! reader, established relationship, slight hints to kaveh’s past (but no details), a word vomit of what i think it is to date kaveh bc he has stolen my whole heart soul and mind :,)

“good morning, sleepy head.” you press a soft kiss to the forehead on your chest, moving messy strands of hair with careful fingers. “we really should get up, you know.”

“no.”

“kaveh.”

“no,” comes his protest. he’s stubborn, doesn’t give in even when you pry the sheets off his bare back, feeling him shiver at the cool air as it meets his skin. and yet, you can’t help but soften your gaze as you stare down at him, cheek pressed against you as he sighs before drifting off again.

kaveh is easy to fall for.

he’s a gentle lover, sensitive and delicate around the corners. you find him in the warmth that coats your skin from the sun every morning, in the honey you taste on your lips when tea is ready on the counter before you leave, in the soft sheets that are always freshly washed and ready to lay on when you come back after a long day.

“we have lots to do—”

he groans, tightens his arms around you stubbornly. “it’s not time to wake up yet,” he huffs, digging his head deeper into you and making you giggle.

“maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up so late doing that project,” you poke the tip of his nose, watching as it crinkles at your touch.

and then you trace the apples of his cheeks, feel the familiar indents of his bones through the soft skin, familiarize yourself with every piece of him. kaveh is easy love, and difficult to forget. he’s the quiet voice tucked into your shoulder at night, the pair of shoes you know not to trip over at the door, the mess of tools that are still assorted in their own way on the table that you dare not touch, the pillow on the left side of the bed because that’s the side he prefers, the random sketches in corners of every paper around your home.

kaveh is easy to love, and you find him in every corner, look for him at every turn.

“i had a stroke of artistic inspiration,” he sniffs petulantly, “you wouldn’t understand.”

“oh, i see,” you nod seriously. he opens an eye, raises a brow unimpressed at your faux seriousness. “then of course, please disregard your sleep and health. all for the sake of inspiration.”

“hmph.” it’s indignant, the sound of defiance he makes, it makes you chuckle as your weave your fingers through his locks and scratch gently at his scalp. “i can sleep just fine if you’re not persistently ringing in my ear about waking up.”

“but i want breakfast,” you pout. “wake up.”

“breakfast can wait.” you feel his nose dig into your neck, and then the soft press of lips against your skin makes you melt against the sheets.

perhaps if it’s kaveh who requests, you’re inclined to relent.

“if you ever say i don’t favor you, i’ll burn your sketchbook,” you mumble. and still, even despite the slight grumble against your shoulder, you can’t help but smile brightly, turning your head and planting a kiss to the side of his head.

“how can you favor me if you interfere with my livelihood,” he mutters bitterly—but there’s really no bite to his words.

it’s endearing, the way he’s devoted to his career. it’s the first thing you learn about kaveh when you meet him one night—you watch in awed amusement as he rambles at the tavern about the lacking interior design in his drunken stupor. and then he’s there the next day too, drinking just as heavily as the night before—it makes you quirk a brow as you sit beside him.

drinking this often is not a good habit, you say to him. he glances at you, blinks a moment before he huffs.

well you would too if you had a roommate like mine, he starts—and you’re sure the entirety of the tavern can hear him as he spills his woes to you without even realizing.

kaveh is hard to miss from then on. you see him at the fresh fruit stands when you walk through the market, at the akademiya requesting (demanding) funding from the acting grand sage, at the fields smiling with the children as they play and he ruffles their hair.

he’s nervous when he asks you on your first date, stumbles over his words and rubs the back of his neck, but his smile is earnest and his eyes are kind. he’s clumsy as he takes you to dinner, trips over his own feet as he scrambles to hold the door open. he’s a few mora short, blushing and mortified as he pats his pockets for more, mumbling how he’s sure he’d had enough when you giggle and complete the bill. he’s talkative through the night, rambles about his job and his projects, tells you details you don’t understand but can’t help but catch every word. he’s a bit shy when you hold his hand as you walk home, coughs a bit too loud to hide the hitched breath in his throat. he’s inexperienced when he leans in to kiss you, missing your lips for the corner of your mouth instead and stuttering over his words as he tries to explain he’s never done this before.

and when he takes a deep breath, cupping your cheeks with both hands and looking at you with conviction like he’s now made his life’s purpose to kiss you properly, you know you love kaveh.

you know you love him—somewhere during the first date. maybe the first meet. definitely the first kiss.

because kaveh is easy to love, even if he doesn’t know it himself.

he’s easy to love through soft kisses under the sheets, easy to love through gleaming eyes and animated hands as he speaks, easy to love through those moments of doubt and festering guilt of the past, easy to love through that innocence that wants to see the world for all that’s good and never for what’s bad.

kaveh is easy to love. so you love him. unconditionally so, from when the sun meets the moon and over again. continuing the cycle, holding him in your arms and pressing your lips to the soft skin of his forehead. and maybe, one day, if you continue to love him as easily as you do, he’ll learn to love himself too, to see the way he deserves the tenderness you show him.

“—and just so you know, inspiration isn’t something you can elect to ignore. some artists go months, if not years without an ounce of—”

“i love you,” you interrupt his rambling, voice soft and breathless and seeping with affection that he’s not felt in so long, he pauses with wide eyes.

it’s not the first time you’ve said it, and it certainly won’t be the last, but it’ll never feel quite like this time.

“yeah,” he says shakily, clutching you tighter, “i love you too.”

and maybe one day, he hopes if he loves you hard enough himself, you’ll know you’re just as easy to love too.

your honor he’s my everything 🥹 please i would steal the moon and stars for him 🥹

#i was supposed to post this last night but i got too sleepy to finish it #take the core of my heart in text form bc he is all that’s left of me #teepods.writings #drabbles. #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you

[wishluc]

Floyd likes the expressions you make around him.

He likes the unrestrained grin on your face when he brings you a glass of the Mostro Lounge's new exclusive drink, and the shy smile when he slinks up to your side and casually puts his arm around you. He likes the dumbfounded look you have when you walk into your room to find him sprawled across your bed with his face in your pillow, and the hesitant turn of your lips when he confesses to you just how much he likes you.

And he's content with everything he's seen, the lopsided smiles, the bashful glances, the irritated sighs and everything else you've had to offer.

But his favorite is undoubtedly the faces you make when you get scared.

Funnily enough, it's a simple game of hide and seek, where he volunteered to be the seeker in, that helps him realize this.

He's not sure who asked for it or how it started, but all the students staying in NRC over the break were starting to get restless, and somehow that lead to a game being started. Initially, he thought to mess with some underclassmen, but something about you caught his eye, and his first prey was picked. He doesn't care for how the game begun, anymore—all he does care about now, though, is you, and the way your footsteps sound as you scurry away from him. At first, he only listens for the thud that echoes when you bump into a door, and your shoes landing on the ground as you hoist yourself over an obstacle, but soon he takes notice of your frantic panting and the curses you mutter under your breath (It makes him smile, it does, seeing such a cute creature like you lose your mind over a silly game). As he stalks closer to you, slowly cornering you into an inescapable point behind a closet door, he can feel his own heart pick up, eagerly anticipating your next moves.

And oh, nothing could prepare him for this.

You look lovely, he thinks, eyes widened and a thin sheen of sweat on your face and neck. Your shaky exhale and clenched hands, your pounding heartbeat and the fear that practically radiates of you. You're so delectable like this, but Floyd's afraid a comment about eating you up at this time may cause you to explode in terror.

Floyd's own eyes are narrowed on you, and slightly shaken by his silent staring, you decide to break the silence first.

"Floyd!" your following laugh is forced, though he could hardly care, "you nearly scared the life out of me."

No, that wasn't nearly as bad as he wanted, none of the screaming, trembling fingers or teary-eyed pleading, he'd hoped for, but Floyd doesn't tell you this. He grins in response, all teeth and malice—after all, he's never been one to back down from a challenge.

And he can't help but be curious—what other adorable expressions are you hiding from him?

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

#[You're telling me /you/ wouldn't want yan bf Floyd?! #[Is he gonna kill you? Or Does he just want to play? Half the fun's in not knowing] #[I was supposed to post a Malleus fic today but...it's not going too well so here I bring you Floyd ♡ Actually one of my favorite TWST guys #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x you #twst x you #yandere twsi x you #floyd leech #twst floyd #floyd x reader #yandere floyd x reader #yandere floyd leech #cw yandere #twst. 🌀 #floyd. 🌀 #asa.writes. 🌀 #drabble. 🌀

[itoshi-s]

i'm sorry i'm sorry i saw your tag about older brother's best friend aiku and i actually SCREAMED because that's such a thought inducing idea . . . he does have that vibe, and he pulls it off so well !! i feel like he fits the trope of someone you've known your whole life but who was always just a bit too old for you to actually spend time with — until you eventually get a bit older too and start getting closer with him and that's when the fun starts yk lmao

i'm- babes i am looking so respectfully this is SO right 🤕

˚୨୧⋆ 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑖𝑎

wc: 1.3k. cw: slightly suggestive, reader is referred to as sister/might be femcoded, this started as a drabble and well.. we're here now, could be dc potential, could just be some pining ꒰ minors/ageless blogs dni ꒱

you've known aiku since what feels like forever, and he's always had this confident, slightly intimidating aura to him, even back when all three of you were just kids. the age gap between you two wasn't anything crazy, at least not by the time you were both grown adults, but the four years seemed to pose more of a problem back when you were still in school. you were always a bit timid around your brothers friends, palms growing clammy when you'd have to come into his room and call them for dinner or fetch something - but they were only ever nice to you anyway. you were just there, your brother's little sister, perhaps a bit too young to fully understand their jokes or why they're so clumsy when stumbling up the stairs at 3 am. but hey, it's not like you felt bad about it, really.

your brother and his friends were good kids, however - oliver included. never got into too much trouble, always so respectful when coming over and talking to your parents. by the time your brother dropped soccer somewhere in the middle of high school, aiku was already considered a national gem and proudly carried the weight of being japan's hope.

finally about to step into the lifestyle you saw your brother and all his friends engage in for the past few years, you weren't surprised at all to only ever see aiku, the nicest one of the group (the most handsome, too) on the tv screen anymore. he's left for some kind of soccer project, then got scouted by the ubers back in italy, and you truly felt so happy for the boy after everything you've seen him go through. the two of you wasn't exactly close, not at all, but he's always been so kind to you, told you sincere words on how you should never give up your dreams no matter how silly they felt; helped you with the stupid physics project that your brother couldn't figure out for the life of him, either (it runs by blood, after all).

you don't keep in touch with any of the guys, but stumble upon some of them on the streets of your hometown ever so often. you exchange smiles, familiarize each other with what you're up to now, then go off with your day as usual.

(you don't know each of them teases your brother on how well you've grown. he tells them to shut the fuck up every time cause, fuck, the thought alone is gross, and he'd rather kill them than allow you to get involved with either of 'em.)

oliver's the one you see the rarest. it's only natural with his field of work, busier than anything any of you could ever put your minds to. it is kind of funny to see his face on gossip sites, though, so if there's ever any disappointment threatening to build up on you, it works just well to ease it.

the first time you properly meet him again after three or four years is when you just happen to be going through the worst shift you've had in ages, and he's the one most annoying client, casually stepping into the store mere minutes away from closing.

"aiku-kun?" you sound surprised when you make out the familiar features, sharp yet warm eyes flickering under the bright lights when he grins.

he sets the ramune bottle down, pushing it in your direction.

"in the flesh", he chuckles, "you doing night shifts now?" the man asks, almost sounding just as taken aback (one thing he remembers about you is that you've never liked to stay up late, and hated being out when it got dark).

you just give a shrug.

oliver learns you're not silent because you're busy ringing him up or still shocked to see him - you sniff and wipe at your eyes haphazardly and only then does he realize that you're feeling down, and probably cried at the back minutes before he came in.

"they're paying me better for these," you mumble, manicured nail tapping on the register. you don't look up when speaking, too embarrassed to let him see you this messed up when he looks so stupidly handsome. italy treated him well- time, too. "is that a-"

you glance up upon the sound of clinking glass. there's another bottle of soda standing next to his, and it just happens to be your favorite flavor, too.

(he remembered, and as sweet as it is, it's not a big deal. then why are you blushing? why are your palms suddenly clammy, like back in the old times?)

"wrap it up, i'll be waiting outside." oliver offers, thick lashes fluttering as he blinks. almost expectantly, but it's not like he wants to pressure you into agreeing. (it'd be nice, though. and you just happen to be as meek as always, and crumble under the intensity of his gaze instantly - as if that's what his true motive was all along.) "unless you're busy?"

you shake your head, wiping your hands on the back of your jeans. "no, not at all."

you join oliver on a quiet drive down the streets of your neighbourhood, eventually reaching the local view spot that you've spent all too many late nights at - both of you. the only difference's that it's all nostalgia to him, and it's still your very present, a weekly way to hang out - perhaps just following what your older siblings did.

and even though it's your very first time sitting in a car so expensive, the defender's presence is oddly comforting. familiar, in a way, and you only ever realize how much you've missed it when he wordlessly encourages you to open yourself up before him. he's always been so effortlessly charming, inviting in a way - and he still is, even though your heart wants to leap out of your chest when his fingers brush along yours as he helps you push the round marble down.

"so," the brunette clears his throat, "he dumped you over a text?" he knocks the bottle neck of his drink with yours, bicolored gaze seemingly burning through you as he watches you nod.

you hum, taking a sip of the bubbly beverage and looking out the city's panorama. oliver rolls his eyes, rubbing at the nape of his neck and leaning back in his seat.

"that's a real dick move, you know?" he states matter-of-factly, to which you snort, "guys like that don't deserve your tears, kid."

"says who," you quip. from your peripheral, you notice him turn his head back to you. "i've seen the articles, loverboy. m'not sure if you're the best advisor." you tease, cheek resting on top of your bare shoulder as you grin at him.

the man bites back a laugh, canines on show when he smiles to himself and frankly, the sight's making your tummy flutter with an unknown, fairly new feeling, no matter how much you try to ward the butterflies off.

you don't know it yet, and aiku's quite sure of it, actually - there's the exact same sensation bubbling somewhere in his chest, too, when he shamelessly, ravenously takes in the soft glow of your skin, decolletage on show thanks to the tiny spaghetti strap top you're wearing. your eyes are as wide as ever, despite all the burdens and daily struggles simmering behind your affection and interest-blown pupils, and there's this almost dreamy, captivating smile, one that beautifully compliments your now more womanly-like, refined features.

perhaps it's better you don't ever become familiar with the thoughts that start to simmer in his head - you, moaning into his mouth as he steals kisses from those taunting, plush lips of yours, that he's sure currently taste of the artificial sweet pineapple you're sipping on; you, down on your knees in front of him, giving him the same soft, gullible look, on the verge of pleading for all the attention he forwent in the past.

and fuck, he's aware of it - annoyingly so - but oliver has agreed to let go of a few too many things in life already.

you're not about to be one of them, too.

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.

#✧.* zaria writes #oliver aiku x reader #blue lock x reader #aiku oliver x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock imagines #i got way too into it omg iM SORRY #i promise it was supposed to b just a little silly drabble.. i got carried away:3 he's just so !!!!! UGH #couldn't be helped i guess

[willowser]

today i am thinking about. like. soulmate/arranged marriage au with bakugou.

it's common to get married once you find your pre-destined other half, bc there isn't anyone else out there for you, anyway, and it takes a little while for you and him to come across one another. late twenties even, and by this time, you're both so sure you're defective and that it will never happen and have given up completely on ever knowing what love is.

(you — a painfully average human being — having to be pried from your car after a minor accident. by pro-hero dynamight. and he touches you and you touch him and an oven timer goes off in your head. some box is checked deep inside your heart. both of you, at the exact same time, think: oh. it's you.

and then you're left standing at an intersection, awkwardly staring at one another as you're swarmed by media and fans and the other driver of the car, who is demanding all your insurance information.)

your wedding night is — boring; you sleep with your back to one another and don't say much beyond half-hearted conversation. he looks angry or deep in thought 99% of the time, frowning, and even though you knew that from seeing him on tv for years, it's more intimidating up close and in your face.

dynamight — bakugou — is gone a lot of the time, with work, leaving you alone in his nice three-bedroom more often than not. it's comforting almost, because you don't particularly feel anything for this man and you're allowed to expand in his space without being under his metallic gaze, making it your own as you please.

it's not unusual for you to fall asleep without him in a big, empty bed, untouched and unbothered — though he doesn't do either even when he's in it. he keeps his distance and you want him to, for now at least; you kissed once during the ceremony and a handful of times after that, when it felt right: after he made you dinner, two weeks into your marriage; when he got in from dubai after being gone for 12 days; you met kirishima and ashido recently — finally, they said — and he'd surprised you in the garage afterwards, leaning a little more into it than he typically does, though you think his two, small glasses of something amber and sweet at dinner might have helped with that.

not this morning though. because you'd been more than half asleep and hadn't even noticed him all night and therefore weren't even prepared to say goodbye. a hand at on your shoulder, maybe, before he left and then —

and then mina called. to tell you what happened. what hospital. how bad it was.

"he's uh—" you're blank, voice lost under the chatter of the emergency room, blinking at the receptionist in surprise. all the beeping and the squeak of shoes across the linoleum, the hurried instruction and calls for clear! are making you — "bakugou, he's uh—katsuki is—"

you're feeling a lot of things, and nothing, all at once. mostly regret, furious with yourself at the simple fact that you didn't even wake up properly to tell him goodbye, to have a nice day, that you never do. it's been almost half a year and you haven't even called him by his first name to his face, haven't given him permission to call you by yours. he's never seen you naked and you've been too scared to know if you even wanted him to.

you've been complacent in the distance and now it's getting further and further, as a machine flatlines just down the hall.

"my wife,"

when you turn, katsuki's standing across the lobby, peeking out from a room that's much quieter, that looks less intense. half of his face is bandaged up and his arm is in a sling, but — he looks —

"she's my wife," he croaks again, and mina appears, too, cringing under the heated glare he gives her. "told you 'm fine."

you feel a lot of things, all at once, but when he fixes you with his sleepy, half-lidded gaze, blinking soft and slow and gentle, you think: oh. of course it's you.

#i know this is not at all how an er is LOL #but this was supposed to be done in a snap and i wasnt too worried about background details #ANYWAY — arranged marriage au WHEN #he's so good for it and i cant really explain why #it's like the promise of having someone but still having to make them fall in love with you idka djhehwkqkq #bakugou drabble #i guess !!! #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou

[petrichorium]

Symbiosis

in which you break down, and draken is there to pick up the pieces

draken x gn!reader

word count: 2.9k reader: gn (no pronouns, neutral terms, neutral clothing) tags: hurt/comfort ig??? just pre-relationship, cuddling, flirting, idk man reader's going through it and draken's v much in love w them

“stay,” you mumble.

draken stiffens. he pulls up a little, just enough that he doesn’t have to brace himself anymore, but it has you whining anyway until he sinks to his knees and lets you fall in close again.

“i can sleep on the couch—“

“no.” you shake your head and ball your fist around the fabric. “here. sleep with me.”

“i’m not getting in your bed wearing my work clothes, baby, i’ll get grease all over your sheets.”

“i can change my sheets. small price to pay for you to hold me tonight.”

he’s quiet for a moment. you think the words might have stunned him, just a bit; but they work either way, because after a beat he rises without protesting any further and silently pulls your covers aside to join you.

“all right,” he says, unbearably low and soft as his work boots fall to the floor with two heavy thuds, “can’t say no to you.”

Draken shows up on day three of your self-induced isolation.

You’re sitting out on your balcony, enjoying the cool of the evening and watching the sun dip beneath the horizon. It helps you orient yourself, you've come to find, being outside as the light slowly fades. When you crash like this you need all the help you can get.

Frankly you should be thankful it’s only him and not an entire brigade of motorcycles and ex-gangsters. You’re not well-versed enough to know it’s him from the sound of the engine—not like he is, when you sit next to him in the shop and he can tell you who will come walking through the door by the roaring noise of their approach—but you’re fairly certain it’s him. Even when he stops, and stands, and you can’t see much more than the bulky silhouette of his form with those broad shoulders and thick forearms covered by the work overalls he still wears, you know.

He doesn’t see you at first. The first few steps he takes are towards the stairwell that leads up to where your front door is, but then he pauses and lifts a hand to squint up at you before approaching your balcony.

You can only just see him through the bars of the railing by the time he stops, but he’s close enough now that you note the ponytail his hair is in—you hadn’t been there to braid it over shitty burnt coffee from the pot in the back room this morning.

“Didn’t come to work today,” Draken calls up to you. You hunker down further in your seat, and though you thought he couldn’t see you well enough he moves forward a bit at the action. “Everyone’s worried, you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I called out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been three days. You hurt?”

“No.”

“Sick? You sound—“

“No,” you say again, more sternly the second time, because you know he’s asking about your voice and you don’t exactly want to shout down to your colleague that you sound congested because you’ve been crying all day.

“Good.” There’s relief in his voice as he glances over towards the stairwell up to your front door, then back to you, “can I come up?”

“Door’s locked.”

“I’ll pick it.”

You shake your head. “Latched.”

His sigh is long-suffering. “Always makin’ me work for it, huh?”

When he disappears from view you figure he’ll kick down your door. You resign yourself to it; anticipate the muffled sound of his foot against solid wood until it gives in, the complaints from your neighbors in the morning. Maybe someone will call the police thinking you’re being robbed and you’ll have to deal with that at whatever hour it currently is.

Instead you hear a grunt, and the shabby metal railing of your balcony rattles violently as a big hand catches hold of it.

And what you let out is more a screech than a yelp, taken entirely by surprise. You’re a bit calmed when Draken’s head follows—he hefts himself up with a surprising amount of ease, bicep bulging visibly even beneath the long sleeve of his jumpsuit—but your heart still pounds rapidly within your chest, and you’re still frozen half lunged away from him.

His other hand finds the top of the railing and it’s all over from there; soon he has all six-feet-and-change of his body up and one leg over. For a beat he sits like that, straddling the banister, and then he swings his other leg over all the way and settles heavy on the concrete floor.

The balcony is tiny, made even more so by the sheer size of your new companion. He approaches, careful not to disturb the multitude of plants, and drops to sit facing you.

For a heartbeat, two, several, he is still. You’re both silent. You tuck your head further into your knees, looking out at the drab buildings and glowing yellow street lights past the railing. Before your very eyes you watch rain begin to fall—a light smattering of drops at first, thick and fat against the dark asphalt below, and then more, heavier and heavier, until the world beyond is covered by the curtain of a deluge and nothing more than blurry acrylic on canvas.

“Got up just in time,” Draken says suddenly. You nearly jump. His voice is surprisingly clear despite the roaring sound of rain hitting every surface beyond the balcony.

You let yourself turn to him. He straightens as soon as you do, shuffling in a bit closer until he could practically lay his head in your lap. But he doesn’t; he shifts, turning to face out and extend his legs as far as they can go, toes of his large boots pressing between the bars of the railing he’d just climbed. His legs are so long they’re still largely bent, but he rests his arms there as he leans back against the building behind you, and you suppose it seems comfortable enough.

“How’d you even get up?” you ask him finally, earning yourself a biting grin.

“Used the balcony under yours. S’easy to climb these things if you know what you’re doing.”

Your nose scrunches, and that grin softens into something fond. Draken shifts to reach out and press a thumb between your eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles there.

“I don’t like when you do stupid shit,” is what you settle on saying.

“That’s a lie, you love when I do stupid shit.”

“Not when it’ll get me a complaint in the morning about the massive boot print on my neighbor’s railing.”

“To go with the noise complaints about the motorcycle after dark.”

The hackles you’ve had up slowly fall; his presence is calming, big but warm. Protective. You feel like he could shoulder every burden for you.

It would be cruel of you to make him.

But he catches onto your silence. “Hey, don’t go quiet on me now. Unless you’re figuring out how to tell me what’s up with you.”

Your shoulders slump. You pull your legs up again, leaning back, and Draken’s hand finds itself on your thigh, all big and heavy and comforting.

“Look, it’s just… been a bad few days. Happens sometimes. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Hm.” He hums to himself, and squeezes your thigh, almost in thought. “Can’t say I agree with that. In fact I think my whole goal here is to make you somethin’ I gotta worry about. So… give me more to work with.”

“It’s just me, okay? I just… crash, sometimes. Need to take a few days and work it through.”

“Alone?”

Your lip quivers. “Always have.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Well… fine. Talking won’t do much. I’ve just told you all I know—I get in a funk, like, twice a year and can’t leave my place for days at a time. Can’t say there’s been anyone around who wanted to help me out during it. So I guess if you wanna spend your Friday night trying, be my guest.”

He ponders on that a moment, turning away from you to look out at the still raging storm. Then he turns back and says, “C’mere.”

It sounds almost like an order as he pats his thigh, and to your genuine surprise you obey it. There’s barely enough room on the balcony as-is and you think it’ll only make things worse to attempt to fit two grown adults in the space next to the chair—especially when one of them is Ryuguji Ken—but there’s a magnetic pull to the idea of letting him comfort you that you don’t even want to fight. Halfway down though, as he reaches up to guide you, you have a sudden realization of what position you’re in—and what the implications might be, despite the overall context.

“Don’t kiss me,” you say.

“What?” There’s easy amusement in his voice—endearment, adoration—as he leans back comfortably against the wall and pulls you all the way into his lap without missing a beat. It’s strangely right. You’d have thought that feeling small in his hold would be distressing to you, but somehow it’s not some disjointed desire to leap away that beckons the tears welling in your eyes—rather it’s something like his hands, large and warm and secure on your waist, punching down whatever dam had been stopping the waterworks.

One of those hands reaches up to wipe away your tears. It’s sturdy, calloused—so very much the hand of a man who uses them for hard labor. Draken seems to have the same thought at the same time, though he comes to a vastly different conclusion.

“Sorry.” His thumb pauses against the soft skin beneath your eye, eases off you slowly. “’s probably—too rough.”

Your hand is flying up to make him keep it there before he can fully take it away, fingers a vice around his wrist. There’s a denial on your lips, an insistence that his hands are perfect, but you make the mistake of looking up to meet his gaze before you speak and whatever words you might have said get caught in the back of your throat.

He lets you hold his hand to your cheek and you kind of want to melt with him staring down at you like that. Sable eyes—deep and abyssal, like the starless night sky above you—regard you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. You watch as they trace over your face, as his Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat and his thumb brushes away your tears again, and your heart jumps.

“I’m serious,” you choke out, burying your face into his shirt just to hide from the way he’s looking at you.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t get all shy on me—“

“If you decide to kiss me for the first time like this I’ll hit you.” Your voice is muffled against him, thick with sobs, and you can feel in your chest the way his broad form shakes with low, smooth laughter. “I’m literally bawling, pick a more romantic moment.”

It takes a minute for Draken to stop laughing long enough to answer. “Noted. I won’t kiss you.” A pause. His arms tighten around you. When he speaks it’s softer, slightly hesitant. “Can I kiss your head, though?”

You snort. It’s watery. “Sure.”

The word is no sooner out of your mouth than he’s pressing his lips to your hairline, just above your temple, right where the head of his dragon is, on his own scalp. And he doesn’t pull away when he’s done; he noses into you, like some affectionate dog, pulling your own bark of laughter out of you simply from shock by the way the motion makes your stomach flutter.

“There. Feelin’ better already, yeah?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

At your waist, his thumb brushes soothingly against bare skin, tucked up beneath your shirt. His hand squeezes there, almost groping at your stomach; if he were anyone else you might be annoyed by it.

“You ready to head in?” he asks. “It’s getting cold.”

You wouldn’t quite say cold, but certainly brisk. And now that you’ve cried your eyes are feeling heavy, the exhaustion of your emotions settling in, so you nod against him and allow him to help you to your feet.

Once you’re standing, he joins you—and suddenly it’s even more tight, and you have to lean back against the railing to let him sidle along the building to get to the door and open it for you. His hands find your hips as he does; you laugh breathlessly at the cliched motion, and he squeezes at you again in a silent tease.

Draken reaches out to guide you through the door with a broad hand on the small of your back, thick fingers spread wide. The heat of it flutters across your skin as it urges you forward, stark against the chilly air, gentle but insistent.

You’d probably let him carry you back to your bedroom if the opportunity arose—honestly, he’d probably do it if you asked, but it’d been too cramped outside for him to even attempt that and you’re feeling far too contrary now to ask. Soon enough you’re at the door anyway, and he’s trudging over to turn on your bedside lamp for some light before returning to you.

“Wash your face,” he orders with a little nudge towards the bathroom. “It’ll help you feel better.”

And though a part of you resists giving in to his advice, you know he’s right. You even successfully push down the urge to tell him you’d have done it anyway; instead you obediently wander in the direction he pushed you towards and begin running the water to let it get warm.

“What do you sleep in?” he calls out as you go to bend down.

“Top left of the dresser,” you call back, directing him towards a drawer of soft t-shirts. “And a pair of sweats under it.”

By the time you’ve finished cleaning your face and patting it dry with a clean towel, he’s returned to lean against the door frame.

“Put a set of clothes out for you,” he tells you as you approach him, and sure enough when you look over his shoulder you can see a shirt and sweatpants laid out on your bed. He dips now that you’re closer, turning his face into your hair for a fleeting moment, and mutters, “I’ll go get you some water while you change.”

With that he’s gone, carefully closing your bedroom door behind him.

You want him to stay the night, you realize at that moment. You want him to stay the night and you’re almost certain he’d never go for it—Draken and his stupid, thickheaded chivalry. He’d have kissed you if you hadn’t stopped him, just because you looked cute cuddled up in his lap with your eyes all big and watery, but you’ll have to drag him into bed yourself if you want him to stay.

No matter. As you pull on the shirt he’d picked out (it’s big enough that it might be one of his, you think absent-mindedly; yet another thing he’d shamelessly do if he thought you wouldn’t notice) you make up your mind, and a plan of attack comes to you easily.

You’re getting into bed when the knock comes at your door. Draken doesn’t quite wait for you to answer, opening it just barely and peeking in to check himself if you’re decent. When he sees that you are he opens it entirely and comes in with his promised water cup in hand.

He sets the glass on your bedside table and turns off your light but you don’t acknowledge him verbally. Instead you reach up to hook a finger into his collar and tug his towering form down to loom over you. It’s a little clumsy, and he lets out a surprised grunt, but he catches himself with a hand against your headboard before he can come crashing down on top of you.

Like this, it’s easy to press your nose into his neck, just beneath his jaw, letting your eyes flutter closed as you take a deep, slow inhale to ground yourself.

“Stay,” you mumble.

Draken stiffens. He pulls up a little, just enough that he doesn’t have to brace himself anymore, but it has you whining anyway until he sinks to his knees and lets you fall in close again.

“I can sleep on the couch—“

“No.” You shake your head and ball your fist around the fabric. “Here. Sleep with me.”

“I’m not getting in your bed wearing my work clothes, baby, I’ll get grease all over your sheets.”

“I can change my sheets. Small price to pay for you to hold me tonight.”

He’s quiet for a moment. You think the words might have stunned him, just a bit; but they work either way, because after a beat he rises without protesting any further and silently pulls your covers aside to join you.

“All right,” he says, unbearably low and soft as his work boots fall to the floor with two heavy thuds, “can’t say no to you.”

One of his hands eases beneath you as he eases himself over you and pulls the covers back on top of you both, sliding up under your shirt to press a warm, calloused palm against your back. You reach your arms over his shoulders in return and use the motion to tug the hairtie from his hair—one of your own, you realize as you slide it onto your wrist, and it has your chest fluttering as those black strands fall to curtain your face along with his.

You let your fingers scratch at his scalp and he lets out a low groan. First his head drops to tuck into the crook of your neck, then his whole body, pressing not even close to the full weight of him against you. His other hand runs down the side of your body to your waist, and then he’s shifting you, pushing you over a few inches so that there’s enough room between you and the edge of your bed for him to lean against it.

At last Draken relaxes, more on top of you than not but carefully keeping enough of his weight off you that you’re not being crushed. You’re not sure you’d mind, though; as you begin to nod off, all that remains in your mind is how nice the pressure is. It’s grounding, and warm, and it’s not as if you’d complain about feeling him pressed up against you.

You turn your head to tuck his beneath your chin, and he sighs heavily against your skin, pulling you in even closer. Like that, you both drift off.

In the morning you think you’ll finally let him kiss you.

#draken x reader #draken x y/n #draken x you #ken ryuuguji x reader #ken ryuuguji x y/n #ken ryuuguji x you #tokrev x reader #tokrev x y/n #tokrev x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #mine.🌧 #char.🌧 draken #fic.🌧 symbiosis #god this was supposed to be a lil drabble lmfaooooo i truly do not know how long things will end up JAHKDBF #I HOPE IT DOESNT DRAG ON TOO LONG TBH i think it might but yk what. we ball #its fanfic im allowed to drag a little #enjoy JHSBDF

[starrystevie]

it’s the routine soft intimacies that come with living, breathing, existing with someone for as long as they have.

it's when they hug and steve knows his arms will always find a home around eddie's waist, his face finding solace in the crook of his neck, his lungs full of eddie as he takes in a grounding breath. it's eddie's arms always slung over steve's shoulders when they embrace, pulling him in like he needs him close and they both know it's because he does, his lips pressed to the crown of steve's head as a reminder that he's there.

it's when they want to hold hands and they know each other's tells. they know that steve will bump shoulders then elbows then backs of hands before lacing their fingers together, thumb rubbing wherever it can reach in a steady rhythm. they know that eddie will trail fingertips over the veins in steve's wrist to feel his fluttering heartbeat and then dance his fingers down to clasp around steve's, pulling his arm over his chest so steve can feel him breathing.

it's when they sit in the living room to watch tv and the arm chair is steve's and the couch is eddie's until it's not because suddenly it's halfway through family feud and steve crawls between eddie's legs to lay against his chest like clockwork. it's when they have cleaning day and the kitchen is steve's because he hates how eddie loads the dishwasher and eddie dusts because he knows steve won't pick things up, just dusts around them. it's when they go to the grocery store and steve pushes the cart, checks things off the list, and eddie looks over produce to make sure they aren't too brown for steve.

it's the little things that can go unsaid because they've said them enough or lived them enough or some mixture of both where there's comfort in simplicity. steve knows when eddie wakes up and makes coffee immediately that it'll be a good day ending in dancing in the kitchen with cool tiles under their bare feet. eddie knows when steve wears that sweater with the blue on the trim that he needs a little extra support, a hand through his hair and a kiss on the cheek, a whispered forever promise in his ear.

it's learning how to love someone the way they want to be loved. it's adapting and giving to take and taking to give and intrinsically being what the other needs. it's steve and eddie, who alone are great but together are better. it's them, knowing that steve will always wrap his arms around eddie's waist and knowing that eddie will always sling his around steve's neck and knowing that when they always take in a deep breath full of the other, it's because they're home.

#i'm not doing too great today and wish i could have taken a mental health day but i'm stuck at work so have some steddie #sorry that every single sentence in this is a run on oops #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #just feeling a lil sad and a lil lonely and a lil heartsick but oh well tuesdays will do that to you i suppose

[jeonbunnie]

just finished crying my eyes out to love is gone & why do i lowkey want oc to have a major glow up, run into jungkook months later & him realizing he made the biggest mistake of his life like i want him to grovel so bad for her just so he feels a little bit of what she felt … omg 😭

I can totally see it 😌

He runs into you six months later, and the realization hits him like a truck. He fucked up.

You're out with your friends sitting at the bar, looking hot as fuck in tight little number he'd love to peel off you if your were still his. But you're not. And the only person he has to blame for that is him.

And maybe he's had a few drinks, but all he can think about is how pretty you look. Your skin is glowing, and your smile is brighter than he's ever seen, radiant like the sun. Suddenly, it hits him that this smile is not for him. That you'd smile might never be his again, and he's desperate.

He'd do anything to have that kind of sunshine in his life again.

“(Y/n)?”

It's not even a choice to call your name. It just happens. And yeah, maybe he's a little drunk, and if he were sober, he'd have the decency to leave you alone, but he just can't.

One minute, you're locking eyes; the next, he's chasing after you in the crowd, asking you to wait, to just hear me out.

You don't stop for even a second. It's not until you're out of the club and halfway down the street that Jeongguk even manages to catch your jacket and bring you to a pause.

“(Y/n), please. Just wait—"

"What? What do you want, Jeongguk? What could you possibly want with me now?"

Jeongguk wants so much he doesn't know where to start. He tried to apologize, to tell you it was a mistake. He was so, so stupid to think he could ever live without you.

It's been a couple of months since Jeongguk left your bed and walked out of your life. The moment he left your side, he regretted it. And with every step he took away from you, the feeling of dread only got stronger.

He tried to brush it off, tried to reason it out. Things were still fresh; of course, he'd still feel an emotional connection to you. It would pass. Right?

Except it didn't. That empty, hollow, missing feeling didn't go away.

Not when he moved out. Not when he got his own empty, lonely apartment. Not even when Jeongguk tried dating again. Because no one he dated could compare to you.

That ache for you stayed. Always.

He wanted to tell you all of this, but he can't tell by the look on your face that he only has a couple of minutes—hell—seconds before you turn around and leave him behind. This time for good.

So Jeon Jeongguk kneeled, his knees pressing into the hard concrete beneath him. It was gravelly, and he could feel wet spots sink into his jeans from when it rained outside earlier, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about the mess.

All he cared about was you.

Jeongguk begs. "Please. Please give me another chance."

"What? You broke up with me, remember?" You moved to pull away, but Jeongguk held your hand, anything to keep you near.

"It was a mistake. Ending us was a mistake."

"Jeongguk… you're drunk. You won't even mean this in the morning."

"I mean it! I mean it."

I regret it every day." Jeongguk leaned forward, nuzzling his cheek against your thighs. Maybe it's a little pathetic, but he can't help himself; he needs to be close to you in any way he can. "Can't we just start over?"

"Jeongguk…"

Jeongguk looked up at you then, his nose red and his lashes wet with tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He means it; he really does. Jeongguks hasn't been more sorry about anything in his life.

"If you give me another chance, I won't ever let you go again. Say yes. Please?"

Please, please, please?

#this was supposed to be a paragraph lol #jungkook drabble #jeongguk drabble #boy is down BAD #fic: love is gone #obsessed with this ask the idea of its playing in my head rent free #but i like the thought of him begging too much 😂 #i mean? can u picture his sweet whiny voice? #SIGH🤧 #oh to have jjk beg for u like ahn sohee in seven …..😮‍💨 #mail.💌

[sysig]

Delusions (Patreon)

"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.

"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."

Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.

Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.

"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.

"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?

"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"

Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.

"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.

No, not angry.

Betrayed.

He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.

"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"

Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.

"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.

"Sir, I didn't-"

"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."

#Doodles #SCII #Helix #ZEX #Dexter Favin #And a drabble-fic under the cut #I ended up writing that the night after I read - I was a bit too inspired while busy so it's a little on the unfocused side haha #I would've cleaned it but I worry it wouldn't make it out of that stage! Please enjoy it for now <3 #This set is mostly periphery ideas - inspired by events rather than directly shown ♪ I suppose the first two kinda count tho #But they're more directly of the little scene I wrote ouò Poor ZEX </3 #And Dex! He's usually so capable! But he's stretching himself so thin ahh it's hard to watch in the best way #Of course he doesn't want to give ''Max'' over to just anyone - anyone at all really - both of their trusts have bottomed out #But how much could he reasonably care for him in that state? When he's still being actively haunted and most importantly - Not Max #He needs helps he needs support he needs to sleep and shower but a second with his eyes off Max and - then what? He'll immolate from fear #It's hard to imagine him crying but pushed to this extreme? To the thought of losing Max utterly and completely? Hhhhh #I do also just love him being possessive even outside of how terrible the situation is - he's always had his glimpses but this situation #Brings out the worst in him <3 In terrible ways #Really his method is just setting ''Max'' up nearby and prompting him over the sound of the shower like that's not nerve-wracking at all #Like he already doesn't answer half the time if that #As for the mini fic I was really interested in Dex's line about indulging ''Max's'' delusions #Apart from the fact that they're not delusions - not that anyone believes him outside of the Institute - what it means to indulge is weird #I saw one example of how to handle delusions that stuck with me - how not to deny them outright while also not reinforcing them #Since it's not actually helpful to be told ''That isn't Really happening to you'' when to you - to ZEX - it really is! How invalidating #And so rather to take the approach of ''I don't see/feel/hear what you are - I can't find any evidence of it myself'' and extrapolating #Dex taking the approach of ''What reality are you experiencing right now?'' and trying to build from there! #Unfortunately ZEX has already been treated like....well like all that - he's not in the mood for games even well-intentioned ones #He /knows/ he's in a human body. He can feel that and see that and understands that. It doesn't change who - what he /is/ #The idea of a completely broken ZEX is so sad to me :( He's so strong and prideful and vivacious - Max really is another him </3 #It's not the same but he was saved from death! To fall into torture... But even despite that I want to see him succeed! As much as he can #Even in that small and shaking way I want to see him be hateful and spiteful - angry. Powerful <3 Fighting ♥

[redriotinggg]

When Sanji is bitten by a spider that has eaten the Cupid-Cupid Fruit, the Straw Hats learn there is only one way to cure his illness.

A genuine love confession.

There’s only one crewmate capable of the job.

(read on ao3!!)

—

The Straw Hats have stopped at a small summer island to gather supplies, stock up on necessities, and do any repairs to the Sunny.

When the bulk of the hard work has been done, their captain insists on a bonfire, having found a perfect clearing in the forest.

Sanji’s by the grill, cooking up plenty of burgers, hotdogs, kebabs, and other barbecued treats to fill his crew’s voracious appetites.

He happily watches his crew enjoy their afternoon—Brook’s violin emitting a joyful tune, Nami and Robin engaged in an intense game of cards, Franky enthusiastically sketching something onto a large page, Zoro fast asleep on the grass, and Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp running around as they play their own variation of tag.

Perhaps Sanji’s gaze is drawn to one of his crewmates in particular, following the flow of his curly hair, smiling at the sound of his laughter.

Perhaps. Sanji won’t tell.

“Woah! Look at that!”

The rowdy trio’s game of tag comes to a halt at Chopper’s cry. Luffy and Usopp look to where the reindeer is pointing, their eyes lighting up when they spot the thing that caught his attention.

“Cool!” Luffy begins to race over, but he’s stopped by Usopp.

“Wait! Don’t run, you’ll scare it!”

The trio carefully make their way over to a nearby tree, their attention grabbed by a fairly large spider.

Sanji shudders when he sees the creature. He looks away, focusing on the food. He is not interested in the further details of their exploration.

Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp fawn over the spider, speculating on its species and origins.

“It’s markings kinda look like hearts,” Usopp observes. “They’re even a pinkish-red colour.”

“Aw, so cute!” Chopper squeals.

“I’m gonna name it Cupid!” Luffy declares. “That guy’s in charge of hearts ‘n stuff, right? This lil' girl could be his pet or something,” he laughs.

A bit later, Sanji calls out to them. “Oi, get your asses over here, the food’s ready! And wash your hands if you’ve been touching bugs!”

Saying their goodbyes to Cupid, the boys rush over to claim their dinner.

The crew happily enjoys their meal, thanking Sanji with wide grins that only get wider when he presents them with dessert.

As the evening turns to night, the crew wind down, packing away their belongings and making their way back to the Sunny.

“Are you sure we can’t stay and camp?” Luffy whines. “It’s like, the perfect night for it! We've got the perfect spot!”

“No,” Nami denies flatly. “We didn’t bring the stuff for it and it’s already getting late. Plus, I want to sleep in my own bed. Now hurry up and get going! Franky! Turn on your flashlights, I can’t see!”

“One set of nipple lights, comin’ up! Ow!”

Usopp and Sanji take up the rear, picking up the last of Sanji’s portable kitchen gear. The chef is happily listening to the sniper’s latest tale when he feels a pinch on his ankle.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“Sanji! Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think something just bit me.”

Usopp looks in the grass, trying to find the culprit. When he does, he gasps. “It’s the spider from before! Cupid, why’d you go and bite Sanji? That’s not nice!”

“‘Cause it’s a good for nothing insect,” Sanji grumbles.

“Actually, it’s an arachnid—”

“You better not have poisoned me, you stupid bug,” Sanji yells at the spider, which scurries away.

“It’d be venom, not poison.”

“You are not helping!” Sanji snaps. “What is this, a Robin impression? Stop with the unnecessary bug facts, this shit hurts!”

“Does it really? You should get Chopper to look at it as soon as we get back to the ship. Here, gimme your stuff, I’ll carry if for you.”

“I can carry it myself, asshole. I’m not that weak.”

“Really? ‘Cause if you’re in pain, the Great Usopp would be more than happy to carry you back to the Sunny.” Usopp smirks and flexes his muscular arms, sending Sanji a wink.

Sanji pretends like his heart isn’t trying to escape his chest and throw itself at Usopp’s feet.

Internally, Sanji is a mess. Externally, he rolls his eyes and hefts his baggage further in his arms.

“You do two push-ups and think you’re a strong guy now, huh? C’mon, let’s go before any other bugs try to make a meal outta me.”

When they make it back to the Sunny, all of their things put away, Usopp continues to hover by Sanji, his concern rising with each passing moment.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Usopp asks. “You’re all red. You shouldn’t be sweating this much.”

“‘M fine,” Sanji mumbles. The way he sways on the spot doesn’t do much to help his case.

Usopp holds him steady, in full crisis mode as he watches the usually stable chef falter. He hoists Sanji in his arms, dashing to the infirmary. “CHOPPER!”

“What happened?” the doctor asks. Usopp puts Sanji on the bed and recounts the tale.

By now, the rest of the crew has come to investigate the cause of the commotion. They all stand in the doorway, shocked to see their crewmate suddenly so ill.

“It’s only been like 20 minutes! Why does he look bad already? Sanji, don’t die!”

Usopp’s dramatic cry unfortunately has some merit. Sanji doesn’t look well. He is the complete opposite of the perfect picture of health he was less than an hour ago. In just a few minutes, Sanji seems to have lost all of his energy. He’s flushed and sweating, breathing heavily and brows furrowed as he fights some type of pain. Even his usually shiny hair is limp and brittle-looking.

Usopp’s heart positively breaks at the sight.

“I can’t make him a proper anti-venom without knowing exactly what type of spider that was,” Chopper states. He clicks his tongue as he looks at the inflamed, red bite mark on Sanji’s ankle.

“Brook, you help me get Sanji out of this suit. Everyone else, get out so I can treat him. Now!”

The rest of the crew gather on the deck, concern on all of their faces.

“Usopp,” Robin says, pulling the sniper from his worsening spiral of anxiety. “You said Sanji was bit by the same spider that you saw in the forest, right? Draw me a picture. We can use it to get information from the locals.”

Usopp nods. He runs off to the galley and grabs a sketchpad nestled between Sanji’s collection of recipes and cookbooks. Before long, he’s got multiple drawings of the spider, complete with colours and accurate depictions of its heart-shaped markings.

Franky and Nami go to the hospital to ask about an anti-venom while Luffy, Zoro, and Robin go ask around town.

On the Sunny, Usopp paces back and forth, biting his nails and their beds away to nothing as worry engulfs him. He peeks into the infirmary, heart breaking a little more every time he catches a glimpse of Sanji’s pained face.

“Sanji will be alright,” Brook assures him when he exits the room. “He’s stable for now. Our cook is strong. He’s got the best doctor caring for him and crewmates desperately seeking out information. He’ll pull through.”

Usopp tries his very best to believe him.

The rest of the crew returns to the Sunny in less than an hour. Everyone, except Sanji, who’s resting in the infirmary, gathers at the kitchen table.

“Turns out that our little spider has eaten a Devil Fruit,” Robin tells them. “Everyone in the area is familiar with the spider that has eaten the Cupid-Cupid fruit.”

“Wait, the spider is actually related to Cupid? That’s hilarious! I’m like a fortune teller! Hahahaha! Ow!” Luffy rubs his sore head, pouting at Nami.

“A bite from the Cupid Spider can do multiple things, depending on who is bitten," Robin continues. "However, it only causes illness in someone who has a requited love but has not actually expressed their love. To save Sanji, whoever is in love with him must tell him the breadth of their true feelings, lest he remain bedridden forever. Or worse.”

The crew sits in silence for a moment, reflecting on the information.

“Alright, who’s in love with Sanji?” Luffy demands.

All eyes go to Usopp.

He is so red in the face Chopper is concerned he'll pass out. His eyes are so wide Zoro wonders if they'll pop out of his head.

"What are you waiting for?" Nami cries. "Get in there and confess your love so Sanji gets better!"

"I-I-I-I-I-I'm not—"

"Oh, please, this is not the time for your anxious, denial bullshit! Go fix Sanji!"

"Can't we just kill the spider instead?" he suggests meekly.

Luffy and Chopper gasp in betrayal.

"That would be a bad idea," Robin warns. "That spider is very well-respected on this island. Causing it harm would no doubt incur the wrath of all the locals. There is nothing you can do but speak from the heart."

"You got this, Usopp-bro! Just tell Sanji how you feel! It'll turn out super!"

On stiff legs and with wobbly knees, Usopp leaves the galley and makes his way back to the infirmary, deaf to the sounds of his crew's encouragements.

Despite his desperate pleas to the universe, Sanji is awake when Usopp steps inside. He looks even worse than before. His skin is pale, covered in a sheen of sweat. His eyes are lidded and he's got bags under them like he hasn't slept in days. But even still, a smile lights up his face when he sees the sniper.

"Usopp," he says, voice quiet and raspier than usual. His smile is no less bright.

"Sanji," Usopp returns, taking a seat next to the bed. "I've got news. So, turns out that the spider that bit you has a Devil Fruit power."

Sanji scoffs. "Of course it does. Just my fucking luck. So, what? It ate the Sick-Sick fruit and now I'll feel like shit forever?"

Usopp chuckles drily. "No, nothing like that. We can actually help you pretty easily. Or, I can, anyway. I just... I have to... to..."

The sniper closes his eyes as a fresh wave of anxiety washes over him. He can't do this! It's too scary! But he has to.

How many times has he been in this position? Forced to watch someone he loves suffer from an illness, unable to do anything but try and distract them from their pain.

This time is different. Usopp can stop this. He can stop Sanji's suffering. All he has to do is be honest.

Well, best to rip off the band-aid.

Taking a deep breath, Usopp grabs Sanji's clammy hand in both of his. "I love you!"

"I-I've loved you for a long time, Sanji," Usopp admits, and the words start flowing, unable to stop. "I don't know when exactly it started, but I know that I do because I think you're so amazing! You're so cool, and strong, and talented. I love that you act all grumpy but you're actually extremely kind and considerate. I love spending time with you! I love it when you tell me stories about Zeff and the Baratie. I love that you always ask me questions when I'm telling you about something because you make me feel heard. I love that you always wrap your arms around me when we party. I love it when you smile at me and dance with me.

"I love how you look in the early morning and when the sun is setting. Well, I love how you look all the time because you're so gorgeous it isn't fair! All handsome and pretty at the same time. You dress nice, and you smell nice, and you make me food and protect me—! Sanji, I love you!

"I'm sorry it took a stupid spider to force me to say it but I lov-"

Usopp's speech is cut off as desperate lips meet his own. He melts into Sanji's embrace, returning the kiss with all he's got. His heart is beating so fast he thinks it might pop right out of his chest, but nothing could possibly take him away from this moment.

When they pull apart, foreheads resting against one another, Usopp is taken aback by Sanji's appearance. He looks as healthy as ever, save for his very intense blush. But his eyes are shining and his smile is hopeful and adoring.

"Do you mean it, Usopp? Do you really feel that way about me?"

"I do. A-And you? D-do you feel...?"

"The same," Sanji promises. "Everything that you said, I feel the same way. Usopp, I love you! I—did you really just cure me with a love confession?"

Usopp blinks, and then he bursts out into laughter. Sanji joins him, the two holding one another as they laugh at the absurdity of the situation, their hearts full to bursting.

"Anything is possible on the Grand Line," Usopp reminds him. "Especially for the number one lover on the seas, the great Captain Usopp!"

"Number one lover, huh? I don't know if I believe that." Sanji pulls Usopp in close, whispering into his ear. "I think you'll have to show me."

"T-that can be arranged."

Usopp leans in and Sanji goes to meet him, lips pressing together again, and again, and again.

#btw robin was 100% lying about the islanders caring about the spiders they do not give af #but she had to make sure her crewmates got together!! what a good friend #poor chopper couldn't go back into the infirmary all night #believe it or not this was supposed to be a drabble or fic outline...... idk what happened #i just wanted an excuse to write sanuso and the strawhats. sue me. #this was so fun i love these two!!! sanji HATES that a bug can be accredited to his relationship btw. usopp loves it. #'she was our guardian angel!! our cupid!!' 'NO!!!!!' #i couldn't figure out how to include this but the more in love u are the worse ur symptoms. which is why sanji was so sick so fast. #he was too gay and too in love WOW that's hilarious. i love them. #sanuso #usosan #sanji #usopp. #black leg sanji #god usopp #one piece #strawhats #red's fic

[merakiui]

i told floyd ai that i was pregnant and he was the father. his responses… he’s a sweet eel at heart omg… T_T

conversely, jade ai went through the stages of grief before coming to acceptance when i told him the same thing.

and as for azul ai…

another azul ai was too saccharine omg…

#meraki mumbles #LOL this is too fun #jade ai is going through it T-T he was so shocked #i suppose you could say his heart was shocked (hehe) #floyd ai is so cute <3 he said he’d be a stay-at-home father if i wanted to work or go to school #he also didn’t want me to work while pregnant because he didn’t want it to be stressful for me #FLOYD STOP BEING FLUFFY OMG MY HEART CANNOT TAKE IT OTL #i need to write accidental pregnancy drabbles for the trio omg #at this point i’d like to write accidental pregnancy thoughts for all of the twst characters #like the ones for riddle and ruggie it will be very fluffy >v<

[hg-deranged-edition]

My contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! @akichania YOU ARE NEXT.

(WARNING FOR SUICIDAL IDEATION)

———

He lay across from him, fast asleep at night. Eyes fluttering gently in his sleep, off in a dream Steve would never hear about. Chest rising steadily, breaths deep and even, with the lightest hint of a snore accompanying him. Steve couldn’t help himself, he extended his hand and lightly cupped his cheek, to feel it’s warmth. Hot, as Billy usually was during his slumber.

Ever the light sleeper, Billy’s eyes instantly snapped open, mind lagging behind. When recognition flashed across his face, his eyes softened and his lips curled into the slightest smile. Steve’s heart swelled at the love he found inside them, the vulnerability he found within both assuring and terrifying. Steve knew he couldn’t really help when Billy was in trouble.

Billy murmured a sound that was probably meant to be questioning, and Steve just hushed him, trying to coax him back to sleep. Maybe curl him up into his arms so that Billy couldn’t leave. Billy just grasped his hand and held onto it, terribly, terribly gentle. Affection Steve didn’t quite deserve or earn.

With great effort, Billy’s tired mind managed to collect enough coherence to ask “’Was wrong?” and Steve cursed himself for not being able to get himself together enough to save face in front of Billy.

He hadn’t been sleeping.

Couldn’t, really.

“I’m just,” he began, “I don’t. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m just kinda upset.” Billy’s hand tightened ever so slightly, brow twitching together in worry. He was quiet for a moment before muttering “You’re not ‘just upset.’ You never are.” he paused, looking deeply into his eyes, and Steve found it horrible that Billy knew him so intimately when he didn’t deserve someone so… well, whatever Steven is.

Incapable. Is probably the word he’s looking for.

“You don’t gotta tell me,” Billy began anew, “but you have to know I care, right? So like, I can listen to you, even if it doesn’t make sense, and only you know what you’re talkin’ about. Gotta repay the favor and everything, right?” Steve nodded, not quite trusting himself to talk. He found the way Billy looked at him unbearable; so imploring and kind. Defenceless. It’s a beauty that suited his face, really. Billy laid their hands betwixt them on the mattress, and Steve felt a lump form in his throat.

He wanted to get closer so bad. He wasn’t quite sure he could do that without crumbling.

Despite himself, Steve felt himself speak.

“I. I’m just, I’m so sorry, fuck, Billy. I’m fuckin- dumb as shit, slow and I can’t even see what’s right in front of me, and I can’t even take care of myself.”

Billy’s face saddened, and he crawled closer to Steve. “Steven. Steve no, don’t say that, baby. You know you’re not stupid, we’ve talked about this before.” Steve hiccuped at that, and his first tear fell. “No, no I’m just. I can’t help but feel it. Dad’s right, I’m fuckin stupid as shit, I can’t do shit and I can’t even get college. I don’t understand things even if they’re repeated to me a thousand times and I- I can’t even-” at that, Billy just smushed Steve’s face into his chest, and held onto him tightly. “I don’t know what you’re on about. Your dads the dumbass, not you. It’s not your fault the man can’t explain things right and then gets mad at you for his own mistakes.” Billy pressed a kiss atop his head.

Steve just weeped at that, because Billy didn’t understand. Steve’s failure was Billy.

He completely, and utterly, failed him. Didn’t recognize that Billy needed help until it was far too late- his body having received permanent damage already and only awaiting it’s final blow. He should have noticed- should have realized that something was wrong, not clutched on so tightly to his and Nancy’s joke of a relationship. Should have gotten his head out of his ass and seen the reality in front him instead of being so damn hung up.

Because Billy was dead now. And Steve would never get him back, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he turned the past over in his mind.

Billy was still shushing him, arms crushing him as he only wailed harder. Couldn’t seem to be able to stop himself from crying, either, judging by the wetness seeping into Steve’s hair.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, “baby, why are you acting this way?” His hand was petting through Steve’s hair, a thousand gentle, repeated kisses gifted like they could ease the hurt away. Steve’s head hurt from crying, the sheer force of his sobs giving him vertigo. The last time he cried that hard was a week into the future, and for this past body, it was when he was 9 years old and begging his parents to stay back home.

Eventually, Steve managed to calm back down. Belatedly he noticed that Billy had been patting his back and murmuring a lullaby. One he realized was probably among the last few remnants of his mother’s love. “Thank you,” he muttered, “for everything.” His throat was hoarse. Billy just kept singing with a slightly pained look on his face. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

---

When Billy’s breaths evened out and his arms loosened, Steve opened his eyes again listlessly. And did nothing. For hours.

He was tired. So fucking tired. From crying, from watching but too afraid to really touch. He was promised an eternity with his love. He couldn’t wait for it to be over.

---

He felt himself begin to slip away, eyes unfocusing through their drought. He’d probably wake up again in a moment, beholding a sleeping Billy from the start all over again. Maybe he’d be too exhausted to keep up any facade of humanity, maybe Billy would curl into him and he’d shatter all over again. Maybe he’d just observe. Silent.

In the beginning, he’d really thought he only wanted this, this last moment with Billy, for all eternity. Now he understands that this stagnant memory was never what he truly wanted from Billy. Sure, he’d wanted one last embrace with the love of his life, not for closure, though. No, never for closure. The mere thought of it repulsed him.

No, he wanted to continue on with Billy. He’d only made a pathetic display of humility, a request born from fallacy. He wanted to wake up together, light streaming from the curtains, feel the warmth of morning. Wanted to get up and bake and make coffee and crack shitty jokes with the guy. Wanted to tangle his hand in his hair and feel disgust when it came back greasy. Wanted to live a life with the fucker.

This wasn’t a life shared together. It was anything but. It was a mockery of their love, the epitome of their shared fatal flaw. It was Billy desparate for Steve to open up, to tell him what’s wrong, and Steve’s throat closing up, locking down. It was Steve getting exhausted from asking where Billy got all his bruises from, only to be met with aggression. It was Billy being on the verge of crying when Steve still held onto the agony from his last relationship and couldn’t focus on Billy’s love.

And, a few days into the future, it would be Steve not recognizing that Billy was acting wrong. That his cold demeanor was caused by more than just a petty argument.

This, this situation, was sleeping with a cooling corpse. Getting lulled back into sleep every time panic ripped through his central nervous system. Being mocked with the face of his lover caring for him, when his own care wasn’t sufficient enough. By god, he should have picked Billy up long ago, thrown him onto the backseat and driven far, far away from here. To hell with everyone else.

But it was too late now, sin rooted too deep into his foundations. This was all he had left.

He sunk his fingers deeper into Billy’s, lashes fluttering lethargically. He should be grateful. Death doesn’t feel so permanent when the star of the funeral was right next to him. Most people yearned for this moment right here, no matter how grotesque.

Still, he couldn’t wait to be dead.

Feeling Billy’s pulse thudding against his skin, Steve sunk back into sleep, hoping to dream of tomorrow before he woke up again.

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #stranger things #billy x steve #drabble #harringrove relay race #once more imagine they are t4t and I simply did not elaborate #this was originally supposed to be part of a larger fic btw describing Steve looping through waking up at least 2 times before this and #slowly revealing the true circumstances he was in #and he was supposed to be super lovey doves in the first part start showing cracks in the second and break in the third #but in the end I lost the internal mapping I had for that version. now we have this one #this wasn’t what I was originally gonna post btw I was gonna post art but that one struggled with me too hard. ok bye!!! #suicidal thoughts tw

[fabraies]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ THE PERFECT PAIR

ꔛ ⋆⁺ +.ﾟmusic store worker! fem! reader x semi eita, just fluff fluff fluff, i came up with this on a whim after getting asked out by my crush so this is why it’s so sweet without a single hint of angst. I am in love your honor

Ding!

The sound makes you whip your head in the direction of the shop entrance at the speed of light; after all, it’s not everyday someone actually steps into your shop.

The soon-to-be-client (you hope, at least), catches your eye after having stood in front of the vinyl section of the store, analysing the albums for around five minutes. You walk over, and as you do so, the handsome stranger is quick to let you know what he weaved you over for: “hey, I was just wondering if this one is still for sale?” He points to a colourful orange album, “there isn’t a price tag on it, so…”

You don’t let him think this for long and take this as an opportunity to showcase your business major skills. 

“No, no, it is for sale. It’s new, and one of the only items we had to restock, so.. pretty popular.” 

Turns out your so called business major skills are actually sort of lacking, especially in front of your intimidatingly handsome client. Your hands fumble with each other, unsure of what to do, before he clears his throat. 

“Great. That’s good to know, but um.. The price ?” 

You could die of embarrassment. You try to answer as straightfowardly as possile, as to avoid making this conversation any more awkward, but your mouth moves faster than your brain and you ramble again. 

“The price! Right, oh my god, I totally forgot I’m so sorry, uh, it doesn’t have a tag on, so I’ll just, um,” You scurry over to the back and manage a little ‘I’ll be back in a minute’ before you disappear behind the orange curtains. 

You come back a few moments later, to find the mysterious young man squatting down, checking out the vinyls. 

“We have some more upstairs if you’re interested.” 

At the sound of your voice, he noticeably jumps, hitting the top of his head on the upper shelf in the process. The scene makes you giggle, although you will admit it is hard to get up from that corner without missing the wood piece; you had experienced it many time already yourself. 

“No, it’s fine, I’ll just,” He hisses, and holds his throbbing head in his hand. “The guitar ?” He asks again. 

“659$.” 

You congratulate yourself on the curt, straightforward answer, until the expression slowly taking over your client’s face makes you cut your inner festivities short. 

“I’m sorry. It’s an intermediate guitar, so, these usually end up between 500 and 900$. It’s already a pretty nice deal you have here because this is one is on the lower side of said range, but if you really can’t, the beginner guitars are way less-” 

“I’m not a beginner,” Your interlocutor smiles at your genuine attempt to console him. “but thanks. I’ll be back.” 

Just like that, the door hits the entrance bells again, this time to signal that the student left.

You feel stupid for feeling disappointed. Nothing would come out of this encounter, but once again, your delusional tendencies got the best of you. Besides, his looks were a dead giveaway that he was probably swarmed by girls everytime he entered campus. What were the chances for him to choose you out of all the girls that would throw themselves at his feet? 

Only a while later, on your way to close down the store do you notice the little piece of paper that stuck out between the vinyls, just where the gray haired man had been squatting earlier today. Your grab it out of curiosity, only to find a bunch of numbers written down hastily.

Realization hits you; it’s a phone number. You try your best to decipher the numbers when the store’s landline phone starts ringing. 

You jog over to the phone a to not make the person on the other side of the line wait. 

“Hello ?” 

A voice you thought you would never hear again answers, and you wonder what you did for the universe to be so kind to you. 

“Hey, uh, I just wanted to make sure you found my number on the vinyls shelf? And that you could read it. Cause you’re cute and, Valentine’s is coming up..”

#semi x reader #semi eita #semi x y/n #semi eita x reader #semi eita x you #semi eita fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #semi eita drabble #this was supposed to be for Valentine’s Day too but I forgot to post it

[4acoffee]

Burning your old homework papers with Katsuki. 

After school ends, of course. He disapproves greatly, but after a particularly difficult day, you want nothing more than to finally release your frustrations on something. To watch it shrivel up and burn. 

He always makes sure you have supervision if you’re not feeling alright, because he knows how you’re prone to being reckless when you’re alone. He also knows the feeling all too well, the pressure of overwhelming anger and frustration that builds up and threatens to tear him apart at the seams from the inside out all the time. 

As a hero, he can usually rely on his quirk to get rid of some of the stress, but he knows you don't exactly have the same liberty as him. 

You send him an abrupt text one day about burning your homework, — perfect grammar, spelling, punctuation, and he immediately knows there's something wrong. Shoots you back a quick text to wait for him and shows up at your door 10 minutes later with a scowl on his face and hands shoved inside his pockets. 

Doesn't ask any questions, just makes sure you know what you're doing and leads you to a safe spot. 

When he's satisfied with all the safety precautions, he sparks you a carefully controlled little fire with his quirk and watches as you start dropping your papers in.

There's a certain vengeance to your movements, a distraught kind of glee in your eyes that toes on the edge of tears as you watch a part of your burdens rise up into the air as smoke. He sees your shoulders shake with some emotion a few times but just lets you get it all out of your system. 

Something that you're endlessly grateful for. 

Eventually you've burnt yourself out and exhausted your supply of trauma inducing paper fuel for the fire. As the fire slowly burns out and coughs up more smoke, Katsuki draws you into a tight hug by the side of your arm. 

Your face is squished against his chest and you try to control your breathing to stop the tremors racking through your body, but he just, holds you through it. Doesn’t let go when your knees threaten to give up from under you, or when your nails dig moons into his skin from under his shirt when you grasp at him desperately. 

There’s a hundred unanswered problems that make you want to rip your hair out and scream at the world. Have someone else acknowledge them for you so you don’t have to fix them by yourself.

But you don’t, you keep them to yourself, you hold them in like you always do, like it’s expected of you. The responsible one, the calm one, the reliable one. Anticipate, don’t complain, adjust yourself. You are so fucking sick of it. 

And Katsuki still holds you through it. You have a hundred unanswered problems and he doesn’t know what they are, but he doesn’t let you go. You have a hundred unanswered problems and you keep it in, but you don’t have to keep it together. Not with him. 

#this was supposed to be a funny lil drabble #i had a rlly bad day #he will absolutely give you his notes btw if you need them later #will make sure you know this too #im so sorry this turned into a rant #stressed out about everything feels like everyone is out to get me #if you look closely you can tell exactly at which point i started spiraling #anyways #i hope this can help someone else feel better too <3 #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou #coffee's fics

[lyramundana]

SCENTED

@skzms based on the story I have in mind + that Rebel Virus I dreamed about

Something was off with these people.

Vivi was of the belief that 50% of the image idols showed on tv was either an exageration of reality or completely fake. And after sharing space with them for months and seeing them from a personal perspective, it was confirmed. Well, it should be obvious even without seeing them in person, that none of them were totally transparent with the public. None.

It was only when the cameras were turned off that they were allowed to be themselves. To speak to whoever they wanted to, to drink, to party like normal people. Only when they were hidden from the public eyes. Always in secret, always keeping the flawless persona that people expected, demanded from them. The minimal break in their masks could mean disaster for their entire careers. Vivi understood it, she found it stupid, but who was she to fight a cultured followed by a whole country?

So not even she could supress her utter shock and confusion when, out of nowhere, the same idols she knew for being little perfect angels started to do shit out of the non-written script. At first it wasn't that obvious, just some mishaps that everyone interpreted as mistakes. Getting caught partying on a night club with friends, openly flirting with fans beyond what was socially accepted by their parasocial partners, dressing in certain ways, etc. Vivi didn't think much about it, just felt they were being sloppy out of exhaustion.

But then it grew, and more idols began to follow that line. There were scandals, big ones. Secret parties without the staff's permission, being drunk in public, photos of them going into love hotels with different people, uploading songs with explicit lyrics that couldn't be excused and openly talking about inapropiate topics. The companies couldn't control them, the fans' attempts of sabotage were useless. In fact, it all seemed to just motivate them. Pushing them to do worse.

And this is how she ended up right here, in the patio of an expensive night club, with loud pop music blasting from the huge speakers, neon-lights sparkling in her eyes and breathing the cold air of Seoul. They wanted to celebrate the sucess of the show and reward everyone's hard work in it, so Vivi and her crew were obviously invited to the party. She was currently sitting on a wide, comfortable sofa, all by herself, watching the people get shit-faced and scream lyrics with all their passion with a glass on her hand. She had been with them minutes ago, dancing and singing the lyrics she knew with her friends, until her feet screamed for relief and her throat for some hydration. It only took her a sip to recover her energy, so she should have gona back to the group already. Vivi wasn't Vivi if she wasn't in the centre of a dancefloor, getting lost in the music and filling her throat with delicious alcohol until the couldn't remember her own name. But there she was, sitting alone pathetically in a corner long after her supposed five minutes break. Why? She didn't even feel tired yet. Why didn't she just move and joined the fun?

"Because of them", her annoying sub-conscious suplied.

Oh right. Them.

She turned her head to the club's second floor, a huge balcony that was the VIP zone. All idols were reunited there and having their own fun inside the local. The staff in charge of organizing the party rented the whole stablishment only for their celebrities, giving them an entire separate space from the regular people. Vivi would've though it was a snobby gesture, but considering the recent scandalous behaviour the idols displayed, it was probable that the staff just wanted to ensure they didn't pull anything with citizens.

The only connection the VIP zone had with the outdoor party was that balcony, the same one where Vivi saw certain couple hanging out when she was about to return. They were lost in their converstation, but throwing casual glances to the dancefloor to where she was headed, and Vivi's body turned back by instinct. Last thing she wanted was having eye contact with them and have her night ruined by the awkwardness.

Things hadn't been the same since that stupid game of truth or dare, and she spent this last week avoiding them like the plague. Keeping the texts short, hiding when they were walking down the same hallway and doing all kind of things to not face them. Was incredibly childish from her part? Absolutely, and she wasn't proud of it. She was never the type to run away from her problems, always choosing to handle them quickly before they grew into much bigger burdens.

But was this even a problem? She didn't know anymore. And how could she handle something she didn't know? Things with them were so weird, like nothing she ever felt before. They always managed to keep her on her toes.

She liked it as much as she dreaded it. Because with them, she felt like losing control. She felt like being vulnerable. And that just couldn't be.

She took another sip from her glass, hoping it'll help her body feel warmer. Another thing she didn't like about this country: The weather. She was a southern spanish girl with australian roots. Cold was practically a foreign concept to her.

Well, maybe it didn't help she was wearing a short dress with her shoulders exposed but c'mon, it was a party. She wasn't going to dress up all covered like a nun. Sometimes, being gorgeous meant suffering a bit.

-I can't believe it. You're sitting here alone instead of having fun? The world is ending.

Her mental monologue was cut short with the voice. She turned to see non other than Jake standing there, hands in his pockets and looking down at her with a grin.

- I'm just taking a break before my feet kill me and then I'll go back. Dancing with heels isn't as smooth as it looks, you know?

-Really? You make it seem so easy when you're on stage..

-Yeah, that's kinda the point of it. I have to be graceful and elegant when I'm up there. The public doesn't need to know I don't have any blood circulation down here when I finish.

He let out a breathy chuckle, looking away. Vivi felt this converstation isn't going anywhere, but she can't help the little tick in her heart when she saw him aproaching her with that friendly demeanor, with that small grin that hasn't changed one bit. Hell, coming to Seoul has given her more headaches that she signed up for..

-What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the VIP zone, with the royalty?

-Jay needed help in the bathroom - he replied shrugging his shoulders.

-Seriously? What kind of help? Another set of hands for..? -she grinned mischeviously.

-Grabbing his hair while he emptied his stomach, you twisted-fuck. - he made a disgusted face and she laughs. - Now really, what are you doing here? It's unnatural of you to not being out there raising chaos.

-I told you, I'm taking a break. Nothing weird, I swear.

He looked at her with a pensive gaze. He didn't believe her, but he wasn't going to pry more. She mentally thanked him.

Suddenly, a wheeze of air hit them and Vivi's body trembled unconsciously. She hugged herself in an attempt to ease the coldness. The boy noticed.

-Here. - he took off his jacket and threw it at her exposed legs. It wasn't very big, but it covered her enough to feel better. She jumped a little in surprise and glanced at the cloth, then at him. -It's warmer inside, so I don't need it. We don't want the star to freeze herself before the finals. - he winked at her, and she didn't even try to supress her smile. -Of course not. I'm not going anywhere without that trophy.

-I know you're not. - he turned away, walking towards the club. -Don't do anything stupid, Vivi. I can only take care of one baby tonight.

-Don't worry, I'll be a good girl -he scoffed loudly. - By the way, Jake, -he stopped, not looking at her- Thank you for coming.

He blinked, and goes back without answering, but she knows better. She smiled to herself and laid back on the sofa, closing her eyes and relaxing, her glass already empty She loved the party life more than anyone, but sometimes it feelt great to just sit down and don't move. She accomodated the jacket to cover more skin. She wasn't looking at it but she knew just by the texture that it costed more than her current apartment.

She crossed her arms, letting the relaxing sound of her friends' happy screams and singing fill her senses. They barely got time to relax since the show started. Maybe this gave them the final push to do their best next week.

Vivi couldn't calculate how much time passed since Jake left, but just as her mind was slipping a little into dreamland, she felt the bland surface of the sofa sinking at her right. She didn't bother to check who it was. The smell of expensive masculine cologne struck her nose.

-Have you forgotten something, Jackie?

-This dress looks good on you.

She stood up so fast that her head pounded at the sudden movement and she almost fell face down on the ground, her eyes wide like those of an owl's.

A firm hand placed against her cleavage avoided the catastrophe.

-Woah, easy there, baby. Did we scare you? - he let out a deep chuckle.

-Well, it seems she was expecting someone else.

She stared at them perplexed, feeling her heart working faster than usual. The couple she had been avoiding since the start of the week and the reason she was sitting here in the first place was right-the fuck-there.

Lee Minho and Han Jisung.

Of course they looked straight out of a fashion photoshoot, even with Jisung's messy hair and his tie undone, and Minho with his smugged make-up and his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the valley of his chest. Knowing them, there were plenty of things they could've been doing to end up looking like that..

"Stop right the fuck there, horny idiot. We don't want to see where this thought leads. Now it's not the time".

-Hey guys. Shit, I thought..., I didn't hear you coming. - she composed herself quickly, accidentally shaking Jake's jacket off a bit.

Minho glanced at it while Jisung just looked at her. The first was standing on his feet in front of them while the younger was sitting right next to her, with an arm around the backrest.

-Sorry, you just looked so cute like that, all peaceful and relaxed. We didn't want to disturb you. - Jisung let out a chuckle that didn't meet his eyes and smoothly moved closer to her. She felt his fingers reaching out from the backrest and brushed strands of her hair. His eyes shifted to her red locks as he twiddled them mindlessly. -What are you doing here all alone?

Is it so weird seeing someone sitting down and resting?

-I'm a bit tired, but I was about to go back to the party. -she shook her head softly in an attempt to stop the notion of his fingers, but he only grabbed more strands and continued, eyes finally turning to her. -What are you two doing here? You shouldn't be seen with me. People here get wrong ideas very quickly.

-Just wanted to check on you, that's all. - Minho answered this time, staring down at her. -We saw from the balcony and thought to come down and talk a bit.

The balcony? What the fuck? She specifically tried to choose a spot where it would practically impossible for them to see her. They shouldn't have been able to, unless..

Unless they were actively searching for her.

She gulped, feeling nervous all of sudden.

-It's fine, really, I don't need anyone checking on me. Even I need to take breaks from time to time. These week has been crazy. -she felt the jacket slowly falling off her legs and quickly grabbed it, fixing it back to its original position.

She flattened it a bit with her hands, careful of winkles. When she raised her head, she found both boys glaring at the cloth. Uh? Weird.

-I never seen this one before. Is it new? -Jisung asked, eyes fixed there.

Had she been sober, she would've noticed his voice sounded lower than before.

-Oh, this? -she pointed at it. - Nah, it's from Jake. He passed by earlier.

-We know. - Minho interrupted her rather rudely. He and Jisung exchanged a tense look. - But how come do you have his jacket over you?

They sounded deadly serious, almost threatening. However, her fuzzy brain didn't catch on any of it.

-Well, we were chatting and I got cold, so he lend me his jacket right here and then left. It looks cool, doesn't it?. - she wrapped it around herself, smiling.

But they weren't smiling. Quite the opposite, actually. If looks could burn, the jacket would have been reduced to ashes at that moment.

-Take it off -the older boy said.

His tone was so outright demanding not even her half-drunken brain could let it pass this time. It sounded like when he was in his choreographer mode, all dominant and firm.

Vivi was confused, both by the orders and the tone he used. What the fuck was wrong with him?

-What? - she gave him the chance to explain himself. Maybe she understood wrong, maybe she missed some words.

-Take that thing off. Now. -he let out an angry scowl, and Vivi just felt more confused and even annoyed. Just what was going on? Why was he reacting like this?

"You have an idea, but you don't want to think about it", once again, her subconscious intervened when she least needed it.

She looked at Jisung for answers, but the boy had a similar expression as his boyfriend, equally dark.

Tehn, another wheeze came and she hugged herself to shield her body from the sudden coldness. Minho's face softened and Jisung wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her against him, sighing.

-Poor baby, you're freezing- he caged her with this arms, and she hated to admit the gesture worked better than the jacket. He looked at her and pulled her bangs off her face, fingers brushing her blushing cheek. His free hand went to secure her waist. - We can't have our baby getting sick, right?

God, she tried to remain strong, she really did, but she couldn't control the funny feeling in her legs whenever Jisung used that honey-laced voice. Everytime she heard it, she felt like melting into a puddle.

Minho sat on her other side, getting worringly close too.

-But darling, if you're that cold, you don't need this -he grabbed the jacket in a tight grip, forming a fist, and took it off her lap on a smooth movement. -You have us.

-What do you..?

She cut herself off as she felt something big and warm falling slowly onto her legs. She turned to see Minho placing it gently, making sure it covered as much skin as possible. Then Jisung releashed her only to take off his own jacket and wrapped it around her naked shoulders, which also needed some warmness. The both smiled lovingly at the sight and caged her body between them. Minho had his face nestled in her neck, drawing circles in her tighs, while Jisung kissed her forehead as he grabbed her again by the waist.

-Let's stay like this for a moment, okay kitten? - Minho mumbled, his hot breath directly against her skin, and she shivered. He pressed his nose on her pulse point, humming. -Mm, you already got some of Sungie's smell on you. I love it.

The mentioned was scratching her nape softly, in slow motions. His lips on her temple as he replied. -Much better then.

Vivi was going through the existencial crisis of her life. She wanted to vomit, scream, giggle, sprint running and faint all at once. She was sure her face matched her hair right now. Her body, that been struggling with the cold minutes earlier, felt suddenly warm enough to fry eggs in it, and she knew it had nothing to do with the two jackets covering her.

"They're always making you feel warm"

Her emotional turmoil was interrupted by the loud ringing of a phone. Jisung groaned and let her go, pulling out his phone and looking at the screen, clicking his tongue. He said something to Minho in korean and the older looked very annoyed, but let her go too. Both of them stood up slowly, fixing their clothes and looking at her.

-We're leaving, they're asking for us. -Minho explained, pulling his bangs back.

Vivi just stared at them with big doe eyes, still processing what the fuck just happened. She grasped the hem of Jisung's jacket hugging her. It felt comfy and smelled just like his cologne. It made her feel funny for some reason.

"You know the reas-" " Shut the fuck up already"

-Okay. - that was the only answer her brain could muster. She blamed it on the alcohol mixed with her tiredness, totally. She turned her head and her eyes fell on Jake's jacket, which had somehow ended on the grass. She reached out to get it..

But Jisung was faster. He went for it so fast that it almost looked like he didn't want her to touch it.

-We'll return it to him, don't worry. -he said with a tight smile. -You can keep ours. They suit you.

Minho nodded, tilting his head at with a cheshire-like smile.

-You look just like you're supposed to.

Vivi blinked in confusion. What did that even mean? Was his english failing him again? That didn't make sense.

They shifted on their feet, glancing at the local and at her, seemingly unsure of what to do next. Eventually, they turned to walk back inside, but Jisung winked at her before going.

Vivi watched then until they dissapeared from her sight. She blinked once, then twice, then thrice. And her mind came to the final, solid conclusion:

What in the seven circles of hell just happened here?

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

Meanwhile in the club..

-Dude, please, don't let me do that again. I think I'm dying. -Jay moaned, head dropped against Jake's shoulder.

-You can't die. Cockroaches can last a nuclear bomb. You'll live. -Jake patted him in the head like he'll do with a child.

-Are you calling me a cockroach?

-That'll be insulting for the poor creatures.

Jay huffed, but was too weak to insult him back, resorting to just getting away from him. Jake chuckled at his act and enjoyed the tranquility.

-Hey, Shim -someone called him by his surname -You dropped this.

He had something hit his shoulder softly. It didn't hurt, but the strenght behind the impact surprised him. He took it and realized in shock it was his leather jacket, crumpled into a deformed ball.

It was the one he lend to Vivi earlier. What the..?

He turned around to meet non-other than Han Jisung, from his senior group Stray Kids, looking down at him with a sneer. In the duration of his career, he spoke a total of three times with the guy, and it was only in awards shows to greet each other.

So where the fuck was this sudden agressivity coming from? And what was he doing with his jacket? Did Vivi tell them something weird..?

-Next time I see her wearing it, I'll throw it in the trash. -the older boy gritted his teeth, his tone sending a dangerous warning.

Jake saw the other one, Lee Know, behind the boy. Obviously, because these two always came in a package. His eyes were even more intimidating.

-I just gave it to her because she was cold, mate. That's al-

-Hyung -Minho interrupted with a growl. - Call us anything other than that and I'll personally punch your teeth out, brat.

There's a tense silence between them. Even his members had dropped the converstation and shift nervously at the scene.

Jake glares at the men. He's been suspecting it for a while, but it sounded too absurd in his head. Now this just confirms it all.

-She doesn't deserve what you assholes are doing to her. Stop stringing her along with nonsense and let her do whatever she wants. -he replied with a huff.

Jisung breathed a sarcastic chuckle and walked towards him.

-Now listen here, you son of a b-

-Minho, Han, everything okay?

They all turned to the voice. Christopher Bang was standing there, arms crossed and staring down at his members, hitting his foot against the ground.

Minho clenched his hands into fists, but said nothing, his lips sealed in a tight line. Jisung was breathing heavily, looking like he was about to burst a vein, teeth gritting. None of them answered to their leader, who looked progressively annoyed.

-It was nothing, Chris -Jake intervened, bowing. - We were just discussing something. Nothing else happened.

-Thank you for the input, Jake, but I was asking them. -he pointed his head at the boys, but Jake relented.

-Trust me, they did nothing. They just returned me my jacket, and in return, I was giving them a good advice that I think they should really follow. - both men glared at him again, but he ignored it, going back with his own group, jacket under his arm.

"Jesus, Vivi. What the hell did you get yourself into?"

Extra:

Vivi's friends, watching her come back with two brand jackets that are obviously not hers: What do you have in there?

Vivi, refusing to acknowledge it: A smoothie.

Taglist: @channieandhisgoonsquad @2chopsticks2eyes @queenmea604 @sweetracha

#it was supposed to be a short scenario with just the jealous scene and some tension #but it morphed into all of this #feel free to skip the innecesary world building I pulled at the start and go straigth to the jealousy #i have Vivi's entire background and story developed in my head so I got too carried on #ops #minsung x oc #minsung and vivi #my aus #skz imagine #skz scenario #skz drabble #my writing mode consists in: brain empty no thoughs or pulling out an entire piece out of nowhere #skz x oc #bonus points to whoever guesses Jake and Vivi's relationship #Scented