#— whispers in the wind: 1k event ✉️

[nariism]

another sunny day — i. rin

handcuffed together + matchmaking gone wrong

synopsis. rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. or: blue lock tries to play matchmaker with a flustered loser and their terribly unfriendly teammate.

wc. ~1.1k

— for @jenoutof10 🤞 | event masterlist ✉️

"don't be mad, but..."

rin's eye twitches.

4 words. 4 measly words is all it takes for his blood pressure to start rising. that, and the fact that isagi can't meet his bloodthirsty gaze.

in all the time that he's had the displeasure of knowing these morons, he's come to know one simple fact: nothing good ever happens when they break news starting with 'don't be mad'.

before his teammates can even get a chance to explain further, rin interjects.

"you lost it, didn't you? you fucking lost it."

bachira's lips just press into a thin line, mischief missing from his expression where it usually permanently dances. now, he just looks utterly terrified and a little guilty.

"hey, but there are worse people to be cuffed to!" bachira nervously states. and at that, all eyes land on you.

you'd been hoping that maybe rin's temperment would have drawn all attention away from you right now—that they at least wouldn't have to witness the absolute despair in your face realizing you've been cuffed to your long-term crush for an indefinite amount of time.

but their eyes are heavy on you, trying to scrutinize your reaction. you want nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

the chains connecting you jingle impossibly loud as silence fills the room. you flounder slightly, caught off guard by the collective weight of everyone's eyes, and rin seems to understand how dire your situation is. he quickly gathers everyone's attention back to himself.

"you all better crawl on your hands and knees until you find that fucking key."

to think that an entire group of people could have gone through with something so stupid—rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. handcuffing the two of you together as a last ditch attempt to solve the last puzzle of their escape room? he would probably be laughing at their idiocy if he wasn't the one locked to your side right now.

and why him, of all people? was it so obvious that he was maybe, kind of, sort of a little into you? no, impossible. he's incredibly good at hiding his feelings for you, so much that he's completely stone-faced while you're busy panicking beside him.

what should have been an innocent team-building exercise put together by their calm and collected manager has suddenly turned you into a blithering fool and him into a cranky asshole.

he'd always had suspicions that you'd liked him, never able to look him straight in the eye without fidgeting and messaging him out of the blue for seemingly insignificant reasons. ("did you try the new garigari-kun flavour?" or "i saw this cat that reminded me of you," and even "did you eat dinner yet?")

if you had told his teammates, you made a grave error. a fatal mistake. because they were all half-wits who would want nothing more than to try playing cupid, and he knows that only they could come up with a plan so stupid and still claim it to be foolproof.

frantically searching for the key, they get to work scouring the floor and drawers—anywhere they could have left it in the last twenty minutes. he takes the opportunity to focus on his breathing, as his therapist had advised him to do when he was feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"you okay?" rin asks quietly, lathering a hand down his face in exasperation. you hum nervously, clutching yourself instinctively. it draws his hand closer to your body but he doesn't mention it, instead letting it dangle limply in front of you. the warmth emanating from you makes him realize just how frazzled you are.

he decides he should guide you to the next room where it's quieter, all the puzzles already solved and abandoned. he sits you down on the sofa, standing in front of you with your hands connected in the middle.

"what if we're locked together forever?" you murmur.

rin looks at you in confusion, perplexed by your sudden loss of functioning brain cells. you were always so rational, it's strange to see you so...

you meet his intense stare and the rest of his train of thought derails into a disastrous dumpster fire.

"i... don't think that'll happen."

"but what if we are?"

"there are worse people i could be locked to."

silence suffocates you. rin blinks at you, but doesn't back down as you fumble over your own tongue.

"you think so?" you finally manage out.

god almighty, you need to break this eye contact before he shrivels up and dies. okay, so maybe his feelings for you aren't entirely miniscule, but that doesn't mean he's going to get any enjoyment out of this.

he scoffs, gesturing to the next room. "at least it's you and not them."

you sputter in embarrassment, hand yanking toward your face as you try and cover your cheeks with your palms. his hand follows, nearly smacking you in the nose but you don't seem to care or even notice.

he slowly seats himself beside you, dragging your conjoined hands back between your bodies and settling on the couch.

"i hate this," you admit. "it feels claustrophobic."

rin knows exactly what you mean. your hand is inches away from being in his—he can hardly breathe. he would rather eat natto every day for the rest of his life than come to terms with that, though, so instead he just sneers at you funny.

"you have claustrophobia?"

"i just mean that we're so close right now."

"so?"

you gulp loudly. "and—" you sigh, breaths shaking. "well, you're sort of right. i guess it could be worse."

"...you're weird," he tells you.

your lips quirk up into a tiny smile, so small that he would have missed it if he weren't chained to your side right now. for a moment, he almost forgets all about why he's even in this situation in the first place.

"sorry," you stammer, fingers fumbling around with the hem of your sweater. "i hope they find that key soon."

he stares at you for a few more seconds, tries to trace the outline of your face with his eyes and memorize the curve of your smile.

"yeah," he lies. "me too."

("is it working?"

"i don't know, i can't hear them!"

"shh," chigiri hisses. "i'm trying to listen!"

rin puts his head into his hands at their volume, bringing your hand along with his motion. he glares in their direction, catching a glimpse of his team stacked on top of each other as they peer into the room.

"idiots..." he mutters. you look at him, puzzled. "i'm surrounded by idiots.")

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nariism]

a simple mission — neuvillette

accidental confession + "say it again. please."

synopsis. oh. oh no. you were most certainly not supposed to overhear this conversation between the iudex and the duke, but now you don't even know how to act right.

wc. ~1k

— for an anon bff 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

You didn't mean to eavesdrop.

Really, truly, you didn't. All you had come for was to deliver the new reports from Poisson, have your usual polite chit-chat, then take the rest of the night off for your date.

Really, truly, you wish you hadn't overheard the conversation on the other side of the door—the muffled voices of who you presumed to be the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide making his rare overworld appearance and the Iudex of whom you held so dear.

Really, truly, you meant to walk away when you heard the passing of your name from Wriothesley, the curious tone and the silence that followed.

"I don't get you." A sigh, indignant and frustrated, then: "You're supposed to tell people how you feel. Jeez."

"It's quite complicated."

"Complicated? Come on, I'm tired of watching the two of you make goo-goo eyes at each other."

"... 'Goo-goo' eyes?..."

You stifle your laughter at the strained voice, though you have to wonder if your crush on Neuvillette was so obvious that even the warden had noticed from afar.

"You're seriously just going to let them go on a date?"

"That is their decision to make. Not mine."

"Whatever. I'm just saying you should consider the possibility that you should pursue this."

"My feelings for them don't amount to anything, so just forget—"

The door swings open faster than you can blink and you're left flailing around pathetically with your stack of papers. Both men stand dauntingly in the doorway, peering at you in mortification (and, to your horror, a shine of amusement in Wriothesley's eyes).

Really, truly, you wanted to melt into the Primordial Sea right then and there. And perhaps you should have turned heel and bolted away to do just that, if only to miss the incriminating colour blooming on Neuvillette's cheeks.

He was right. It is complicated, and the way he can't meet your gaze makes it all the worse.

You've called off your date tonight.

It's not the first time. It certainly won't be the last if this keeps up.

Unsure of what to do or where to go, you end up soaked in the rain at the edge of the city. The bridge overlooks the flooding Court of Fontaine—a pretty, weeping sight that Neuvillette had shown you what felt like eons ago. Back when the two of you were just friends and nothing more, when his name didn't stir something scorching within your heart.

What should have remained a professional, civil relationship between you and the Iudex grew into something more as the years passed.

You noticed the glow of his lilac eyes, the way they softened when you entered a room; the undeniable fondness in his expression as it crinkled with his smile, dignified but warm; the lingering of his hand over yours as he accepted whatever you brought to him for that day, a gesture which he hadn't graced others with to your knowledge.

Wriothesley had bugged you once about it before during one of his visits, calling you a lovesick fool. As it turns out, he loved drama of all sorts and was making it his personal mission to witness this opera himself.

You hadn't expected him to bring it up with Neuvillette as well, thinking that he would be too off put by the judge's apparent indifference toward you.

The soft pitter-patter of rain hushes as an umbrella unfolds above you, shielding you from the onslaught.

"You'll catch a cold."

You visibly deflate, head burying into your arms along the stone railings. Oh, dear. You don't know how to act right now. How are you supposed to act in front of the person who admitted to having feelings for you just a few ago?

Neuvillette takes your silence as his cue to continue probing. "I wanted to chat with you about what happened today. But, if you're busy then..." He turns his head left and right, searching for any signs of the date you had thrilled about earlier this week.

(A date that you wished could erase all the feelings you had for him, to no avail.)

"I'm not busy. I canceled," you tell him quietly. You stand up straight, turning to face him but with avoidant eyes. "What is it?"

"I want to apologize if I made you uncomfortable this afternoon. I understand it is unprofessional for us to be involved with each other, and I won't bring it up again. Not even to Wriothesley."

You blink at him, half surprised yet half not. The sudden downpour of rain roars in your ears deafeningly, somber weather matching his darkening appearance.

"You don't have to apologize. I wasn't uncomfortable, just..." You look away awkwardly. "Confused."

"What is there to be confused about?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "About why you never told me how you feel."

(Hypocrisy at its finest, honestly.)

Silence overcomes you again as he considers your words, deep in thought. You can tell just by the minute twist of his lips and the narrowing of his eyes, and it makes you sick that you can read every single tell of his emotions.

"I wouldn't want to burden you. I am unfamiliar with feelings such as these. I don't think I am fit to be your partner."

"Nobody is perfect," you remind him gently, reaching out to wipe the wetness from the rain off his cheeks. "Do you think I'm perfect?"

"Undoubtedly."

His quickness makes you snort with laughter, hand withdrawing from his space to take the umbrella.

"Wrong. Very wrong. I eavesdropped on you today, you know?"

"I know," he mutters, cheeks flaming with colour again as he remembers how flustered you seemed with the door swinging open. "How much of it did you hear?"

You hum, a soft smile spreading across your face. "Enough."

Neuvillette shrinks back in embarrassment. "And I suppose Wriothesley knew you were behind the door the entire time. Nothing escapes him."

"I'll have to thank him later," you giggle.

The Iudex stiffens. "You will?"

"Well... only if you say it again."

"That's—"

"Please?"

You watch the Adam's apple in his throat bob as he swallows, unable to regain composure.

"If I had feelings for you, would you accept them?"

You close the umbrella and shake it off, relishing in the sprinkle showering over you.

"A million and one times, I would."

He smiles, taking the umbrella from you. His hand lingers over yours for a moment, as always.

"Then I believe you do have some thanking to do."

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nariism]

those words you spoke to me — i. sae

"i'm done waiting" + "i think i'm in love with you" + "don't look at me that way" + unrequited love

synopsis. you were always staring at itoshi sae's back. he was forever chasing something greater, not once turning around to see that look in your eyes.

wc. ~1.2k

— for @verysium i hope this is enough angst for you... | event masterlist ✉️

Hell comes in the form of Itoshi Sae.

He's too pretty for his own good, handsome and impossibly solid. He has this expression, too—cold and calculating, easy to admire so long as you aren't on the receiving end of his scrutinizing eyes.

Sae is a wonder of the world, a whirlwind of talent and fame and witty remarks and everything in between. He's the entirety of the word football, syllable to syllable, playing as if he were damned to do so. As if he were only ever born to decimate a soccer field. As if the universe had swallowed up the meaning of anything else in his heart long before he was even born.

Hell comes in the form of Itoshi Sae.

Your next door neighbour. The one who smacks you behind the head when you're being impolite to your elders. The one who makes sure your legs are properly tucked under the kotatsu so nonchalantly, as if he's incapable of telling you he cares any other way.

You're confident that he's this beautiful in every other life, in every reincarnation, in every world. That perfection could only possibly exist simmering in his soul.

Teal eyes that blink at you in confusion and annoyance, yet have an unmistakable fondness hidden beneath the stormy waters of his irises; soft hair slicked back because he couldn't be bothered to deal with his bed head; lashes that hug his waterline—you're not sure you'll witness raw beauty like this again in your lifetime.

Hell comes in the form of Itoshi Sae. You know that much for sure.

If you ever lost your memory you're certain you would know him still: the feeling of his back against you as he shields you from his screaming brother, the smell of his cologne permanently dancing under your nose. You would know the expanse of his skin, every light freckle on his nose, the firmness of his chest beneath your palms.

Hell comes in the form of Itoshi Sae. You could crumble to your knees and tell him everything—the love you harbour for him, the way he has devoured your heart. But truth be told, he's the devil. He could never love you back—not in this life. Not in any other.

You knew that. So why are you still standing on his front porch in the middle of the night?

"I'm in love with you."

He stares at you absently from his door, hand gripping the handle so tight that his knuckles are turning white.

"That's not funny," he scoffs.

"It's not a joke."

His gaze sharpens into a glare, head tilting back almost as if he's looking down on you. It's a foreign feeling, one that you'd witnessed a million and one times before but never felt for yourself—to be unwanted by Sae. To be without meaning.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" He hisses. It appears that he's bubbling with emotion, but you can't figure out which ones. "I'm supposed to get on this plane in eight hours."

Ah, Spain. He was leaving and you'd never be able to stop him if you tried. If you did, you're positive that he would rip through you like a bullet with no remorse.

"I love you," you repeat. He falters, eyes roaming your expression to try and understand what the hell you're doing.

What are you doing? You have to wonder that for yourself.

You were always staring at Sae's back. He was the one who stood between you and Rin when you fought, protecting you from his temperamental little brother despite thinking you were both being idiots. He was the one who sat in front of you in class, passing his eraser whenever you kicked the back of his chair. He was the one on the other end of the field, attacking enemy territories while you were left behind in the bleachers.

He was forever chasing something greater, not once turning around to see that look in your eyes. He was born to be more than a lover, a friend, a companion. Itoshi Sae was destined for perfection, to be out of reach despite being so close.

But you'd mistaken his rotten kindness for love too many years ago to take it back, never able to undo the knots he had tied in your stomach.

You wanted to be selfish, just this once. You wanted to be seen, to know that he knows. You've waited long enough.

If Sae was born to play football, you're sure you were only ever born into this world to chase after him. To love him so much that it ate your flesh.

"I just had to tell you. At least once in my life, I had to."

"Stop looking at me like that—"

"I've always loved you."

"—it's pathetic."

Silence fills the air and you suddenly become hyper aware of how many tears have gathered in the corners of your eyes; the heat of your sorrow streaming down your face.

For a moment, he hesitates. There's that familiar fondness glimmering in his gaze, soft and reserved for you. His childhood friend—the one who kept losing all his erasers and the one whose voice he could hear cheering for him from all the way down the field.

Then it melts away, and he looks at you with utter indifference. You think that he's unfairly good at hiding his thoughts behind a mask of apathy.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he whispers.

I want you to love me back. "You don't have to say anything."

He looks at you for a long time, just staring. There's conflict swimming in every part of his expression, lips parting then shutting again as if he can't decide how to respond.

"I think you should leave."

You blink at him, at the bluntness of his words. You've witnessed this before; the way he so easily pushes others away when he feels too vulnerable. To be loved is to be seen, to be known, and Sae wants none of that.

"If that's what you want."

Some part of you deep down knows that it's not what he wants. That there are words unspoken tangled up in his throat. But his apprehension is enough, telling you that his heart is devoid of space for another human even if he wished for it to be different.

"It is," he strains out, lying through his teeth. "I don't love you that way. You're like a sibling—"

"Don't do that," you interrupt, drawing away from him. "Just break my heart, please."

"I don't love you." And he leaves it at that.

Hell comes in the form of Itoshi Sae. It's a notion that follows you as you walk down the driveway toward your stalled car, left running because deep down you already knew his answer.

The beauty of his forbidden paradise drives you to turn around, too, and just like every other time his back is turned to you. His hand rests on the handle of his door, yet his body is frozen in place. You wait for a moment, eyes cast over your shoulder to see if he'll turn around and finally look your way.

He doesn't.

(You've driven off by the time he comes back outside, watching the back of your car pull away into the fog.

He's done the right thing, he thinks. He could never stand watching you cry.)

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nariism]

across the violet sky — lyney

"you look beautiful in the moonlight."

synopsis. all that fretting was over nothing, because he's looking at you now and the only thing he can think of saying is...

wc. ~1.5k

— for @rintosei smooch 🫶🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

"You did what?"

Lyney flinches at his twin's harsh tone, the words seething out through her grit teeth. He pauses in his rummaging, deflating with his hands hovering over the open box.

You had originally agreed on helping them set up for their next show, even going so far as to personally arrange for all the props to be transported to the Opera Epiclese. But you're nowhere to be found now, leaving the magician sweating under the cold gaze of his dear sister.

"Lyney—" She sighs, fingers pinching at the bridge of her nose. And he knows he's messed up big time to elicit such a powerful emotion from her. "How could you do that? Y/N has been nothing but amazing in helping us through all of this."

It was true that you had been supportive to a fault ever since you first stumbled into a performance way back when. Since then, you'd always looked at the pair with stars in your eyes, perhaps hoping that one day your beloved would pull you onto the stage despite his repeated worries about props misfiring or sabotage.

He had never worried about that sort of thing until he was framed. He'd be damned if you were to be injured during one of his shows.

So he banished you to the audience, swore to himself that he would never endanger you by pulling you into the spotlight of the stage. And he upheld that promise to himself, until you finally broke him down with such honeyed smiles and even sweeter words.

Because he was weak when it came to those he loved, he caved in just to see the joy shining in your eyes. He didn't have time to regret his decision—not when you were already leaping into his arms with a chanting prayer of thanks on your tongue.

And now...

"I know, I know..." he huffs in frustration, resuming in busying his hands with the contents of the box. "But what was I supposed to do? I owed Father's friends a huge favour and this—"

"Are you really choosing Father's approval over your relationship?"

He stops again, eyes cast solely on the props in his hands. One of the associates of the House demanded that his child be put into the show as an assistant. You were visibly hurt when he had informed you of the last minute change, and hadn't heard from you since.

While he would have normally chased after you in such a moment, he was too preoccupied with preparing everything for the changes made to the performance to worry about where you'd gone or the extent of how upset you were.

"What would you have me do?"

Lynette saunters over to her brother's side, crouching down beside him. Her hand gently guides his own down to place the props back into their spots.

"Making sure they're okay would be a good place to start."

The magician makes a face, lip jutted out in a half-pout as he considers it. Yes, he would be distracted if you were on his mind this way after all. It would be better to clear the air before the show started. His sister was always the more level-headed of the two of them—the soft yet stern voice of reason when he was being careless.

"You're right," he concedes. Lynette was always right.

He doesn't find you at your home.

After knocking at the front door until his knuckles hurt, he deems that you must not be here. Clutching the bouquet of Rainbow Roses carefully to his chest, he makes his way to his next destination: the Fountain of Lucine.

With nearly everyone tucking away for the night, there's hardly a peep in the plaza. He approaches slowly, watching your figure come into focus.

Ah, of course you'd be here. You always came here when you needed to think.

There were a thousand things he wanted to tell you. He'd practiced on the way here: how to apologize, how to grovel for forgiveness even though you were so kind that he was sure you'd accept it in a heartbeat.

Still, you were the love of his life. He seldom expressed his vulnerability to you, but he truly did feel horrible for bailing you out of the show last minute—especially when you seemed so excited to finally be a part of it.

"Sweetest," he calls you. You don't respond, instead opting to quietly swish your bare feet around in the shallows of the fountain. His heart plummets at your lack of interest, so he takes a cautious step forward. "It's late. You'll catch a cold sitting out here."

Again, you're silent. He swallows, trying to think of a way to get you to even look his way.

Lyney has always been good with words—talented at misdirection and deceit. But he has no reason to be like that with you, to be dishonest or closed off or misleading. It leaves him tripping over his own tongue.

He loves you with all his heart, yet he doesn't even know how to talk to you without making a fool of himself.

His whole life has been about buttering up an audience, making a spectacle of words and dance and magic. But you're real. How does he handle that?

Slowly, he sheds his coat before draping it over your shoulders. He sits beside you facing away from the running water, the paper holding his beautiful bouquet together rustling with each movement.

The noise makes you look his way, eyes curious as ever. It was what he adored so much about you.

For a second, he sees the undeniable softening of your expression—a small but unmistakable smile gracing your face before it vanishes again.

"You'll catch a cold," you scold.

"That's okay."

Your gaze flickers between his eyes and his lips. He can feel the heavy tension melting away with every shameless glance up and down, smugness firing through his veins when he realizes you've missed him despite your avoidance.

"I'm sorry I made such a big deal about all this," you whisper, tearing your attention back to the way the water ripples with each movement.

Lyney reaches over quickly, hand swiftly turning you to look at him again by the cheek. "Don't apologize," he argues. "I was being stupid."

You nod, mouth opening then closing as you wait for him to continue.

He doesn't. He can't.

The whole walk here he had planned out exactly what he wanted to say, all the ways he wanted to tell you that he only gets so protective because his work can be dangerous. There were a million ways he planned to apologize, a dozen scenarios where he imagined you would walk out of his life for being so careless with your feelings.

But all that fretting was over nothing, because he's looking at you now and the only thing he can think of saying is...

"You look so beautiful in the moonlight."

You blink at him in surprise, instinctively burying your face into the warmth of his palm as you lean forward. There's a knowing in the way you look at him, as if able to read the words in his heart that he can't seem to get out.

"You're not trying to butter me up, are you?" You ask teasingly, an attempt to relieve his racing mind.

"Just being honest," he laughs. Another silence fills the air before he continues, "I'm really sorry. Next time, I promise to drag you onto the stage with me."

You stifle a giggle, pulling away to watch your feet prod at the surface of the water. "It's alright. I know I'm not exactly cut out to be a star."

The magician shuffles closer to you until your shoulders are bumping, then he places the bouquet of Rainbow Roses in your lap.

"You are a star," he mumbles. "The brightest star in the sky."

Dancing in the moonlight, bathing in it so beautifully. Lynette would hurl at him admitting something so corny, though.

"Really?" You ask with a laugh in your breath.

"Really really."

You hum softly, hand settling over his. Your bodies are turned opposite ways but he can imagine the smile spreading across your face, the warmth of it. You were always poor at hiding when he flustered you.

The soft sound of streaming water fills the comfortable silence. It's a stark contrast to the applause he's grown so accustomed to but he would choose this a million times over.

Your hand squeezes his. He realizes, then—you're a star no matter which spotlight you're under, whether it be under the weight of a thousand eyes or just for him under the quiet moon.

("Stop gagging! It wasn't that cheesy!"

"A star?" Lynette pales further, placing her head into her hands. "A... A star?"

"Oh, quit with the dramatics already!"

"I have a lovesick idiot for a brother... I'm going to throw up."

"Lynette!")

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nariism]

ink to paper — k. ayato

mutual/oblivious pining + "don't look at me that way."

synopsis. yes, he thinks. what would he do without you? well, his schedule would be a mess, for one. and he wouldn't know how to cut bunny ears into his apples, either.

wc. ~1.2k

— for @kruinka and @ph-xntasy / @yuellii 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

You've cut his apples into petit rabbits today.

The ink at the end of Ayato's brush has soaked through his page at least three times since he started scribing, big globs of black ruining what could have been a beautiful sequence. And the culprits for distracting him taunt him with their little red ears.

In fact, they've been sitting for so long that the flesh of the fruit is starting to brown. How long has he been unproductively glancing up and down between his paper and his breakfast? 

He had told you that they were in season as a passing comment the last time he saw you—nothing more than a throwaway line to make conversation. Yet here you are, showing up at his table with a tray of his usual breakfast and something extra. Something hand-crafted and too cute for him to even fathom putting into his mouth.

It seemed that you had a special place in your memory for him. He could bring up the smallest wish and it would show up on his desk the next day.

It was your job to know him inside and out, after all. Your sole duty as his scheduler. Even so, you made time to do things outside of your job description if only to please him. You always looked so happy to see him, too. He's starting to wonder if you have a crush on him.

He glances at his clock. While he is busy with work, what harm would a few minutes do if he were to be a little distracted?

Kamisato Ayato cannot cook.

He remembers fondly the only time he had ever demonstrated his kitchen skills to you. After unpacking his favourite tempura from Uyuu restaurant, he proceeded to line the shrimp up on a plate and decorate it.

You found humour in his apparent lack of expertise in the kitchen, chalking it up to his spoiled upbringing. He hadn't believed you then, thinking that you were being too harsh as well as too distracted by the melody of your laugh to bother dwelling on it. But now he's here, trying to do something as simple as cutting apples and failing miserably.

What spurred him on to do this in the first place is beyond him. Maybe he thought that the smile on your face when you saw his efforts would be worth all the trouble, or perhaps he was seeking your approval since he admired your ever-growing list of skills.

From servant to sparring partner to cook to personal scheduler, you were quickly making yourself a regular part of his day. He envied your adaptability, having little opportunity as a noble to try.

He figured this would be a chance to start. To learn, if it were to make you happy or proud.

Oh dear. Who knew cutting apples was such a daunting task?

Ayato thought this would be simple—cut some apples into cute shapes, make you smile, perhaps keep you around a bit longer to discuss it than you would usually stay. (Lately, he's been craving to hear your voice more and more.)

But this blade is tiny, unlike his hefty sword. It's too nimble for his fingers, and he's sure he has nicked himself at least a dozen times by now.

If you were here, you'd probably scold him for being so careless. And you'd set aside time in your busy day to help him, he's sure. It's in your nature to be kind which makes him miss you all the more.

Just as he's about to give up and call it quits, the door slides open.

Archons. He's been so engrossed in his woes that he had forgotten it was almost time for your scheduled meeting to go over his other plans for the week.

The scraps of peel and sloppily shaped apple slices are so incriminating that he doesn't even bother hiding it. You both stare at each other from across the table, completely unblinking and still.

"Um..." You strain out, clearly attempting to hide your amusement. "Hello."

He coughs awkwardly, placing down the paring knife and trying to uphold as much dignity as he possibly can.

"Hello," he greets, unable to meet your gaze anymore. "My apologies. Our meeting slipped my mind."

You gently pluck a rabbit from the plate, rotating it around in your fingers to get a better look. They're sloppy, for sure, with jagged edges and tiny slits where you know his knife slipped. And they don't even resemble anything remotely close to rabbits in the first place, more like blocky V-shaped thingamabobs.

You glance up and down between the rabbit and the man behind it, who looks strangely flustered considering his usually calm temperament.

"Don't look at me that way," he says quietly, wooden end of the blade gently knocking against the table as he deflates.

"Are these... bunnies?" You ask him in bewilderment.

"They are... supposed to be rabbits, yes."

Complete silence fills the room until Ayato feels as if he can't breathe. Coupled with the way your eyes are scrutinizing his attempts, he wants nothing more than to melt away.

And then you laugh. You can't stop laughing, it seems. Doubled over onto the table and fighting for air between giggles.

He can't help the softening of his expression, the warmth in his chest. If this is all it took to get you to smile like that, then who cares how embarrassing it is that he can't even cut fruit correctly?

You round the table, plopping down next to him. Oh no. He can't control his racing heart when you're leaning in so close to him, so close that he can feel the rumble of your laughter in his own body.

With your shoulders pressed together, body resting comfortably against his, you take the blade and slice of apple from his hands.

"I'll show you how," you offer. He watches intently as you make the first shallow slits through the peel, then gently slide the knife across the top. Too busy admiring your skillful hands, he almost instantly blurts out:

"Can you please show me again?"

You look at him funny, brows pinched but a smile still seeping across your face. You show him another time, expertly cutting another slice. And another. And another.

Unconsciously, or perhaps following the quiet voice in his heart, his head falls atop yours. You sink into him, allowing him to rest against you without complaint.

"Hm, am I your personal comforter now?"

"I suppose you are."

"You know, if you actually pay attention you might be able to make your own breakfast."

"Mm..." He hums when your hands don't stop moving despite your words. Instead, you laugh again. And again, there's the ever familiar thrum of his heart.

"Oh, dear Commissioner. What would you do without me?"

Yes, he thinks. What would he do without you?

Well, his schedule would be a mess, for one. He's far too busy to keep track of it all on top of his other work. And he wouldn't know how to cut bunny ears into his apples, either.

He would rather you keep him company anyway, bunnies and all.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nariism]

a place to call home — k. shinsuke

one bed + childhood rivals/friends to lovers

synopsis. "be kind, shinsuke." that's what yumie always told her grandson. and he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

wc. ~2k

— for @mastering-procrastinating & an anon bff! 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns six years old, the vacant house across the street suddenly springs to life with occupants.

His life spirals from being humble and quiet to chaotic in 24 hours. Suddenly, he's responsible for taking care of the bratty kid next door even though they're his age. His bedtime gets thrown out the window because he needs to chase them down to get them to brush their teeth, and his dinner always has some suspiciously missing elements that he never finds.

You become the centerpiece of his entire existence—a floating memory in every crevice of his mind.

Kita hears your laughter in the songs of his childhood; feels your hands roughly pushing him and dragging him around by the wrist; smells the minty toothpaste he forcefully shoved into your mouth after finally catching up to you. 

It seems as though you and him were born to be polar opposites. Where he climbs you stumble. Where he sits quietly at the dinner table, you have a never-ending stream of anecdotes to tell Granny (even though half of them are greatly exaggerated—he was literally there to witness it). Where he behaves like a normal child, you can't even sit still during storytime in class.

However, your differences do little to remove you from his life. Where he goes, you go.

It's a consequence of growing up thirty meters from your front door and having you over when your parents suddenly uproot to go on week-long business trips.

And he wouldn't care so much, really, if it weren't for the fact that Granny had equal amounts of love to go around. That, and he would have to sleep on the floor whenever you came around.

For someone so disciplined and grounded, Kita Shinsuke was an envious child. He hated having you in his home, because it meant that his beloved Granny had to split her attention between the two of you. Because she would always tuck you in before him. Because you were louder, more needy, more everything. Because he often woke up with back pains at the ripe age of six years old.

When Kita turns eight, he finally bubbles over.

You're on the swings behind one of your friends, standing on the back of the seat and clinging to the chains. You're being careless, and he would be remiss if you were to hurt yourself.

"Get down from there," he scolds, standing in front of the swing set to stop you from continuing.

"Make me!" You exclaim back, childishly sticking out your tongue and rocking the swing back and forth, gesturing to your friend to keep going.

"Stop."

He comes up behind you and tugs at your shirt, making you wobble.

"Quit it, Shin!"

"You'll hurt yourself!"

He convinces himself that he only cares so much because Granny would have to spend more time with you to patch you up if you fell, and not because he would hate to see your snotty, crying face.

No, it doesn't make his heart squeeze. Not even a little.

Eventually, you end up face first in the wood chips anyway, with Kita hovering over you looking guilty as ever. He hadn't meant to pull you off so roughly, nor had he meant for you to land on the ground like that.

Oh. Why does it hurt him so much?

That night, you don't sleep in his room.

You end up tucked into Granny's bed instead, down the hall. He misses your presence—he even ends up on the floor though the bed is empty for him to take.

He blinks up at the space where you should be and feels bitterness swelling in his throat. 

"Shin." His Granny calls softly when she eventually comes into his room. She doesn't sound the least bit angry, but he still aches with nothing but guilt.

"M'sorry." He knows the apology should be for you, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye over dinner.

His Granny only sighs, kneeling down beside his futon with a tired huff. A reminder of her age. He only feels worse.

"Be kind, Shinsuke."

"I'm tryin'," he argues weakly.

She's silent for a pause before she carefully tucks the silver hair from his eyes.

"You'd be lonely too if I were gone all the time, eh?"

"..."

Kita pulls the covers closer to his chin. Yes, he was aware there was a reason you were always here. There was a reason your house was devoid of life despite being filled with furniture. There was a reason you wanted Granny to love you so much, cementing in the gaps where your parents were always absent.

Did you ever want him to love you like that, too?

The next night, he sits you down on the edge of the tub with no complaints. And he's surprised that you accept the toothbrush into your mouth so easily, no resistance and no qualms like you usually have.

He sees the tired defeat in your eyes, feels the awkward tension in the bathroom, and guides your hand to the end of the brush so you can do it yourself.

"I'm sorry," he tells you without elaborating. You never need him to. (When you reminisce about this day, you sometimes laugh to yourself. You always did love how straightforward he was.)

His words are followed by a tense hug, his hands holding your head against his tummy. The brush stops moving in your mouth as you hug him back.

It dawns on him then: he's just as much of a kid as you are—feeling something as petty as jealousy when all you needed was a hug.

One day, he swears, he'll make it up to you. And he'll be nicer, too. It's the least he can do if he's all the company you have until your parents return.

Be kind, Shinsuke. That's what Yumie always told her grandson. And he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns twenty-two years old, your apartment floods.

Of course he's the first one there, helping you move what you could salvage from the apartment into suitcases and onto the back of his truck. Of course he's the one to offer a place to stay, because if not him, then who else? And of course he's the one who holds you when you're stressing about what to do and where to go, hand firmly on your back as he lets you snot on his shirt like you've done since you were six.

For a brief moment, it feels as though he's just a little kid again with you making a mess of the home he grew up in.

Well, mess is a stretch—you've infinitely matured since starting food wars with him over dinner, but the point stands when he ends up helping you with an assignment. It had been pushed to the backburner with everything going on, whilst you were moving essentially everything you owned into his house as if you paid rent there.

He should have known that some things never change.

"I can't believe you kicked me out onto the floor."

Kita shuffles in the comfort of his duvet, resting atop his mattress. He stares at you with honey brown eyes swimming in conflict from the bed.

You curl tighter into a ball on the futon. And he knows this ploy—knows that you're trying to guilt trip him into swapping places with you. You've always been manipulative when it came to him, and god-forbid he be anything but an angel to you. (Because his Granny told him to, not for any other reason at all.)

"M'not the one who made a bet they couldn't win."

Words straight and cutting as ever, like a blade through your heart. You pout childishly, rolling over so that your back is turned to him.

It was your idea to challenge him when he said you were on your phone too much while working. It was your idea to be a brat and defiantly say that you could finish your assignment by midnight. It was your idea to bet this all on the most beloved yet war-inducing place in the entire house: Kita's bed.

It's hardly his fault that you got distracted with YouTube.

"I hate you, Shin."

"No y’don't."

"I do."

"No. You don't."

"Okay fine, I don't, but can we please swap now? It's freezin’ down here."

He can practically hear the pout still engraved into your face right now. And it takes every ounce of fight in him not to give into you with the snap of a finger. To argue back and list a million reasons why he should be allowed in his own bed.

Yet here he is, slipping out of the sheets almost instantly and crouching down beside the futon. He shakes your shoulder.

"Fine. Get goin' before I change my mind."

Any resolve left in his body melts away when you shoot upright with a bright smile, victorious as ever.

Sometimes you made it hard for him to imagine why he cared about you at all. You were too sly for your own good. How could he ever deny such a smile? It's not fair.

You scurry into his bed instantly, making yourself comfortable where you have hundreds of times before. "You should make sure I'm comfy. I am a guest in your house, y’know?"

Yes, Kita knows this all too well. You're trying to provoke him, to see how far you can push him until he breaks. Stubborn and obedient, he reaches down to slowly pull the blanket over your body.

There's a pause from you as he drapes you in warmth, blinking up at him dumbly as if you weren’t expecting him to do so without complaint.

"I'm..." You seem to choke on your own words, silently contemplating whether or not you should push further. "My face is still cold."

His hands hold your face instantly, warming your cheeks skin-to-skin. You stare at him with wide eyes, looking so surprised that he wonders if what he's doing is a mistake. But then your hands gently cover his, and you tug him closer until his knee is sinking down on the mattress beside you.

"M'super cold."

"It's twenty-two degrees in here," he informs you flatly.

You make a face, nose slightly scrunched in thought and brows pinched. It's such a troubled expression that he can't help but scoot a little closer.

He's being kind, that's all. He's just making sure you're okay as a friend. No, not even a friend—an obligatory companion. The lifelong thorn in his side. The reason why his back still aches some days.

Be kind, Shinsuke.

When did being kind turn into this? Into moving involuntarily, into having a second nature response to you? Into a stubborn body only movable by one soul, one voice, one pair of hands?

"Keep me warm, Shin."

He gives in to your whims without reason, without logic or hesitation. You are the sole person able to break down any semblance of routine that's been methodically coded into his muscles.

He doesn't get you, perhaps he never would. He would never completely understand your wishes, or how your cheeks were so cold yet burning hot at the same time, or why he was submitting to you so easily.

The only thing he knows is that you are still somehow the centerpiece of his life, dancing in the middle of it all like a black hole sucking in everything else; the whirlpool swirling in the center of calm waters; the supernova of his galaxy.

"...'Kay."

Maybe he doesn't need a reason to care about you. Maybe your very existence is reason enough. And he’s okay with that for once in his life. He had never been the type to go with the flow, but your hands are dragging up his neck and pulling his body onto the mattress.

That night, you both fall asleep in the bed.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nariism]

the voice in my heart — i. sae

forced proximity + "oh no, the power went out, however will we stay warm?!" (/s)

synopsis. itoshi sae doesn't like how mushy you make him feel, but the warmth is nice. kinda.

wc. ~600

— for @saetoshi / @yoisagi my love 💗 | event masterlist ✉️

you didn't think it was possible, but somehow itoshi sae gets infinitely more irritable when he's cold.

he scowls more, hands permanently stuffed into his pockets, and sulks like there's no tomorrow. and he shivers, too. an embarrassing amount. (his pride is always severely injured when you ask him if he wants your help to warm up).

your grouchy roommate always found something to complain about when the weather dipped. whether it be the fact that his heater was always running, or that he has to scrape the ice off his windshield every morning, sae has never been able to see the beauty of winter.

"beauty?" he scoffed when you pointed that fact out one day. you were at the kitchen table and he was on the couch waking up from his midday nap—a typical sunday afternoon that he had long since added to his routine. "yeah, i'd rather admire it from inside. thanks."

"come on, don't be so pessimistic," you scolded, sauntering over to him to shove a pillow into his face. he knocked it away with a frown.

"i'm not pessimistic. just realistic. being cold sucks."

and that should have been the end of it. after that, you had stopped bothering him and purposefully trying to tease him with snide little comments about his disdain for the cold.

well. the universe has always had a funny way of fucking with him.

it's the coldest night of the season thus far. the snow storm raging outside has knocked out the power for the entire building and now the two of you are stuck pressed together under the warmth of your combined blankets.

"quit squirming around or i'll kick you out of my bed."

you make an undignified noise. "you wouldn't."

"i will if you don't stop that and go to sleep. i have to be up early tomorrow."

"this was your idea in the first place!"

sae had been the one to text you, after all. he hadn't even asked nicely, only sending you the word HELP in all capital letters as if he were going into cardiac arrest. you had rushed in to see what was wrong only to get dragged into his bed.

his greed for warmth was nothing new to you, of course, but he was careful to be gentle with you. to make sure he wasn't crushing you or making you uncomfortable. it was his way of being nice and somewhat apologetic that you were being treated as some sort of personal heater.

"i hate you," you tell him when he unceremoniously throws his leg over your entire body to keep you still.

"yeah, whatever. sleep before i kick you out."

"you're the one who asked me to share our blankets," you remind him again.

there's a long silence that follows that statement. it's so quiet that you assume he just ignored you and went to sleep without replying. but then he rolls over until his back is to you and he utters out, strained: "we don't speak of this, ever."

you raise a brow, shifting to face his back. "oh? are you embarrassed that i had to keep you warm?"

"i'm not embarrassed," he quickly corrects, even with the waver of his normally dead voice.

you reach around him, back of your hand resting on his cheek. you feel him tense up beside you in bed and you can't help but burst out laughing.

"your whole face is warm."

he groans, pulling the blankets closer to his side and up over his head so you can't observe him any closer. he's worried that if you did, you might have noticed how incredibly red he was growing. something so out of character would absolutely garner a new game for you and he would never hear the end of it.

for someone with an attitude problem about everything, he was surprisingly easy to shut down. maybe it was just you who had that talent, though.

itoshi sae doesn't like how mushy you make him feel, but the warmth is nice—

"i know you're trying to hide from me! if you just wanted to be held i'd be happy to help."

—kinda.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nariism]

adamantine dreams — h. aki

one bed + "wait, don't pull away... not yet."

synopsis. there was a time before you when aki found it hard to sleep. call it sleep debt or whatever, but he's going to squeeze every ounce of rest he can get from his body now.

wc. ~1.2k

— for @naosaki 🫶 i love you | event masterlist ✉️

He used to have nightmares.

They started when he was young and naive, back when he felt like the world could fit into the palm of his hand and the grief he sheltered could flatten armies of enemies.

Sleep did not come easily to Hayakawa Aki.

He was a dead man walking. A corpse with tar black lungs and nothing left to lose. As much as he willingly sacrificed, and as much as he tried to put on a brave face, death petrified him. He spent most nights tossing and turning, eluded by rest leaving him in worsening condition by the day.

There was nothing in the world he wanted to do more than to close his eyes and have the world be still. To sleep without jolting awake at even the tiniest creaks of the floorboards. To be able to be at peace without the sound of a gunshot seared into his memory.

Aki had given up on such a dream many, many years ago.

Then you came along, declared that you were bunking with him while he blankly stared at his single bed in his single room in his apartment that was eerily quiet considering his horribly rowdy roommates, then promptly crawled under the blanket and fell asleep.

He had three choices that day. One, kick you out and risk being reprimanded by Makima herself, which, honestly, sounded the most appealing at the time. Two, sleep on the hardwood floor and develop back pains that would make him devil food by the end of the day. Or three, his least favourite but most logically sound option: sleep in the bed, pressed up against the wall and putting as much distance between your bodies as possible.

And, well. The rest is history.

He discovered a different type of devil wandering the earth. It had warm skin and a cute smile and fit into his arms as if it were shaped from the same clay of which he emerged.

It had no ill intent and sought not the smell of human fear, but the scent of cigarettes and black coffee.

You were a certain kind of evil he couldn't fight, no matter how much he wanted to try. His time was running thin—sand trickling through an hourglass with no signs of stopping.

Aki was hurtling toward his death at a record pace.

He thought he had made peace with that—with the fact that he would never be able to sleep like a little boy again, safe and sound. He was aware that his life was a race against the contracts he had forged years ago, back when he thought devil hunting was the only salvation in the sick world he lived in.

If he could take them all back, he would.

There was nothing he could do now but close his eyes and pretend the days weren't whirring by. He had heard as a child that time flies with the one you love, and he scoffed at such a notion once upon a time.

He would give it all up. Heart, soul, his own flesh if he could stop time just to spend this moment with you for an eternity.

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of your alarm. Aki has long since awoken, groggy but well-rested.

He was always the first one awake. While his mind has been blissfully quieter recently, his body had an awful tendency to jerk into consciousness anyways. He watches your rousing expression carefully, attempting to freeze time itself in the form of a memory.

Warm sunlight pools against your body, swimming in his navy blue sheets. Skin to skin, smile to smile, you kiss him slow and sure—a gesture he has grown familiar with over the past year since you showed up.

"Morning," you yawn, arm draping over his body and a hand slowly trailing from his chest to his neck then finally settling on his cheek.

"You have morning breath." He tells you bluntly, flustered as always.

You snort softly, feigning offense rather poorly. "As if your breath smells like roses right now?"

"Better than yours," he refutes. His fingers deftly squeeze yours until you release his face. You huff dramatically, snatching the blankets with you as you forcefully roll over in bed.

"Fine then. Guess I'll get on with my day without bothering you with my morning breath."

His hand shoots out to capture your wrist as you shuffle out of your side of the bed. Yanking you back, he smothers you under his weight to prevent you from escaping.

"Don't go. Not yet."

"Aki," you laugh while trying to wriggle away to no avail. "I have to go to work."

"Stay home today," he complains, burying his face into your hair so you can't see how absolutely red he's gotten.

"I can't!" You giggle. You start squirming again so he can release you. He does this time, towering over you with some sort of narrowed expression.

"Just stay a little longer," he murmurs, swooping back down to press his lips to your forehead. "Stay."

It's starting to sound more like a demand than a request, so you surrender. Your arms open wide again and he collapses back onto you with a thump.

"You're crushing me," you wheeze from beneath. He shakes his head.

"Deal with it."

"You're seriously going to go back to sleep like this?!"

"Not my fault you make it so easy to fall asleep."

"Didn't know I bored you to death like that," you tease, purposefully dodging the real meaning behind his words because, well, he's equally talented at flustering you.

There was a time before you when Aki found it hard to sleep, tormented by the visions of his entire childhood vanishing in a fraction of a second. It was those nights that were especially unbearable, never relieving him from his painful existence and forcing him to listen to the explosion of guns in his ears over and over again.

Call it sleep debt or whatever, but he's going to squeeze every ounce of rest he can get from his body now.

"You're heavy," you whine one last time for good measure. He doesn't do anything but smile against your skin, savouring every second of your body under his.

Despite your complaining, your hands tangle into his hair almost instantly and you tug him just a bit closer, heart to heart.

Sleep washes over him. You really must have been a devil in disguise, offering up the most despicable evil of all: love.

He knew his time was short. He knew that love would only make it hurt all the more.

But your fingers are combing through his hair and he can feel the gentle rumble of your voice in your chest as you tell him your plans for the day just as his eyes start to feel heavy.

There's a weakness you expose in him, a gap leftover from his lonely childhood yearning for companionship. You fill in all the missing pieces—complete him in a way that revenge and hatred could not.

So he figures, maybe it would be okay to be selfish and just close his eyes right now. Be loved. Sleep and dream of nothing but a future he could never have with you.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nariism]

links ➠ event info ✧ rules ✧ send a request!

works will be added here in no particular order as they get (probably slowly) completed ^ ^ due to similar submissions, some requests have been combined into one. subject to change !!

BLUE LOCK

wherever you are, wherever you may be — i. rin

soulmates + "i'm done waiting."

7 years ago, itoshi rin saw the rising sun, the falling moon—every part of the wondrous sky.

another sunny day — i. rin

handcuffed together + matchmaking gone wrong

rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously.

to the ends of our world — i. rin

academic rivals to lovers + "i could kiss you right now!" + "we fell asleep by accident and woke up as a mess of tangled limbs."

it's something ripped straight out of a cliché rom-com: the person he can't help but envy and respect, waking up next to him in bed.

always watching over you — i. rin

enemies to lovers + drunk confession

if rin hates you then why is he calling you up at two in the morning?

the voice in my heart — i. sae

forced proximity + "oh no, the power went out, however will we stay warm?!" (/s)

itoshi sae doesn't like how mushy you make him feel, but the warmth is nice. kinda.

those words you spoke to me — i. sae

"i think i'm in love with you." + "don't look at me that way." + unrequited love (damn are you ok)

you were always staring at itoshi sae's back. he was forever chasing something greater, not once turning around to see that look in your eyes.

the love that binds us — i. yoichi

mutual pining + "i could kiss you right now!"

isagi yoichi already has you wrapped around his finger. now all he has to do is be brave about it. or, you know. impulsive.

GENSHIN IMPACT

across the violet sky — lyney

"you look beautiful in the moonlight."

all that fretting was over nothing, because he's looking at you now and the only thing he can think of saying is...

ink to paper — k. ayato

mutual & oblivious pining + "don't look at me that way."

yes, he thinks. what would he do without you? well, his schedule would be a mess, for one. and he wouldn't know how to cut bunny ears into his apples, either.

a simple mission — neuvillette

accidental confession + "say it again. please."

oh. oh no. you were most certainly not supposed to overhear this conversation between the iudex and the duke, but now you don't even know how to act right.

HAIKYUU

a place to call home — k. shinsuke

one bed + childhood rivals to lovers

"be kind, shinsuke." that's what yumie always told her grandson. and he would live by those words, even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

strangeling — u. wakatoshi

"we're fighting. i'll take the couch tonight." ➡️ (bonus) "we were fighting???"

it's not fair. how are you supposed to stay mad at him if he's going to choose you over the comfort of his bed?

JUJUTSU KAISEN

what it means to love — f. megumi

accidental confession + "do you want my jacket?"

turns out that being raised by gojo means sometimes accidentally throwing all inhibition into the wind.

letters from heaven — g. satoru

"i think i'm in love with you." + "wait, don't pull away... not yet." + oblivious pining

he never thought he was capable of loving again.

CHAINSAW MAN

adamantine dreams — h. aki

one bed + "wait, don't pull away... not yet."

there was a time before you when aki found it hard to sleep. call it sleep debt or whatever, but he's going to squeeze every ounce of rest he can get from his body now.

© NARIISM 2024 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nariism]

links ➠ event masterlist ✧ rules ✧ send a request!

STATUS: CLOSED

thank you everyone for participating <3

hiii all my lovelies💗 i'd like to give a huge huge huge thank you for 1k followers and friends (!!!), 4.5 months of endless support, and the chance to be a part of such an amazing community of people :')

i've always been on and off with writing because of my self-doubts but i've come to absolutely love writing as a hobby and remember why i enjoyed it so much in the first place back when i was a dweeby 13 year old kid 🫶

i would love to do a small appreciation writing event for anyone who would like to participate. it's open for everyone so don't feel nervous to send an ask! see below the cut for more info.

if you're just stopping by, then i'd like to tell you thank you for everything!! 💐

info — you choose 1-3 prompts/tropes + a character and i'll write a drabble/one-shot! requests can be sent to my inbox like this (preferably off anon so i can let you know when it's up!)

prompt number: fandom/character: additional info: (ex. tropes you want, angst, fluff, platonic, etc. anything you'd like to add that you want to see!)

i will be closing requests for this event on 13 Nov EDT

the same rules apply as my regular writing rules. please see those before you send a request!

note. all writings will be x gn!reader. i have free creative liberty for anything i write and i may not get around to all of the requests if i can't think of anything for the combination submitted. i am also busy with life stuff so it might take me a bit to finish things. remember, this is all for fun!

FANDOMS/CHARACTERS OPEN

blue lock: itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi

genshin impact: open for any characters!

haikyuu: miya atsumu, miya osamu, kita shinsuke, ushijima wakatoshi

other: hayakawa aki, gojo satoru, geto suguru, loid forger (💐)

++ i would consider characters not listed here that you want to see!

TROPES

1. friends to lovers / childhood friends to lovers

2. forced proximity

3. fake relationship / marriage of convenience

4. soulmates (any rendition)

5. coffee shop

6. roommates

7. accidental confession / accidental kiss

8. handcuffed together

9. hurt & comfort

10. enemies / rivals to lovers

11. mutual pining

12. oblivious pining

13. one bed

14. drunk confession

15. second chance

16. unrequited love

17. matchmaking / matchmaking gone wrong

18. domestic

PROMPTS

19. "do we like... hold hands now?"

20. "please, come home."

21. "i could kiss you right now!"

22. "oh no, the power went out, however will we stay warm?!" (/s)

23. "we fell asleep by accident and woke up as a mess of tangled limbs."

24. "i'm done waiting."

25. "i've always needed you!"

26. "you look so beautiful in the moonlight."

27. "i think i'm in love with you."

28. "don't look at me that way."

29. "do you want my jacket?"

30. "wait, don't pull away... not yet."

31. "i can't sleep."

32. "i can't believe it took you this long to admit you like being the little spoon."

33. "your necklace fell off... let me put it back on for you."

34. "i could stay up all night talking to you."

35. "say it again. please."

36. "we're fighting. i'll take the couch tonight." ➡️ (bonus) "we were fighting???"

++ feel free to add any you want! these are just some examples

i'm so thankful to each and every one of you. i hope you enjoy! <3

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© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[nariism]

‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ sfw writing blog ⋆ multifandom ⋆ NOT spoiler-free

⋆｡°✩ 𝒔𝒐𝒑𝒉 ✧ 21 ⋆ any pronouns ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

#1 neuvillette and mari kisser !!

inbox is always open for chatting <3 feel free to stop by to scream about anything

𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

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© NARIISM 2024 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.