#I mean it's melancholic fluff I guess?

[sinni-ok-sessi]

Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: 莲花楼 | Mysterious Lotus Casebook (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Li Lianhua/everyone, Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua, Fang Duobing/Li Lianhua Characters: Li Lianhua, Qiao Wanmian, Fang Duobing, Yun Biqiu, Jiao Liqiao, Di Feisheng Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Kissing, big ace feelings, re: relationship tags Lotus Tower Polycule is endgame but in a largely Li Lianhua-centric way Summary:

He is vaguely aware, in the same way he knows that rain falls down and the sea is salt, that when he grows up, he will meet his fated person and… Well, truthfully, he's a little unclear about what happens after that. Withdraw to an uninhabited mountain with them to quarrel and raise rival disciples?

Or: What if every character I liked was on the aroace spectrum? Or: Five times people kissed Li Lianhua + one time he initiated.

Word count: 7,711

[myballsyourballs]

so i see that requests are openn!! my first time requesting so please correct me if i said anything wrongjehd, i want one loonng fic (if u can obv) abt reader ranting to kaeya because she is rlly close to him (and she is dating diluc btw no romantic feelings between kaeya and reader) abt how she feels like she isn't good enough or at diluc's level and thinks it's unfair for diluc for her to stick with him and diluc overhears everything and they go back to dawn winery and have a long angsty chat and comforts reader. THATS IT IDK IF IM MAKING SENSE, you can totally ignore this if you don't want to write it ofc <3

far from perfection

diluc x fem! reader

genre: angst/fluff imagine

notes: sorry this wasn't very angsty- im not in a very angsty mood rn</3

synopsis: reader is a little insecure about her relationship with diluc. she confides in kaeya, and diluc overhears.

masterlist | make a request

“Kaeya?”

“Hey,” the man in question pauses in his writing, glancing up at you with a smile. Kaeya resumes his paperwork for a brief moment, before ending the sentence he was writing with a flamboyant underline. “What’s up?” He kicks his feet onto the desk, crossing his legs at the ankles.

You sigh, slumping into the chair opposite him. “I feel like shit."

Kaeya raises a gloved hand to cover his growing smirk. "I can see that."

You frown, glaring at the cavalry captain. "I'm serious."

"Got it," Kaeya murmurs, expression switching to amused into something sincere. "What happened? Trouble in paradise?"

At the sight of your now melancholic-like expression, he sighs gently. Guess he hit the nail on the head. "What'd he do this time?"

"What?" your face morphs into confusion for a moment. It's such a foreign, alien idea that Diluc could have ever done something to upset you. "No, nothing. Diluc is perfect..."

You trail off.

Kaeya stares expectantly.

"Well that-- that's sort of the problem. Diluc is... too perfect."

The man in front of you raises his eyebrows sarcastically, looking at you like you just read the entirety of the Gliding Manual aloud and he was forced to listen. "I really don't want to hear you yammer on about how much you like Diluc. Spare me, please."

You groan, "That's not it." Your hands drag down your face, your slight irritation verging on exasperation. Kaeya gives good advice, but it’s hard to actually get that advice when he never stops talking.

"Then what is 'it'?"

"I'm not good enough for him. He's so amazing and I'm just... me."

Kaeya's eyes flicker with realisation before he moves into disbelief. "Seriously? Diluc is mediocre at best. You, on the other hand, are great. I'm very picky with those I associate with. You being one of my closest friends is not something to take lightly."

"Friends isn't even close to partners," you mutter, eyes downcast. "You're missing the point. I'm not good enough for him. That's fact, and I don't know how I should deal with it."

"How? How are you not good enough for him?" Kaeya asks, merely confused at this point. He couldn't really fathom how you could see yourself like that.

“He’s so out of my league— I mean, he’s the owner of this incredible winery, he makes up more than half of Mondstadt’s entire alcohol industry, owns a tavern, he can bartend, he’s the wealthiest guy in this region, he’s selfless, kind and sweet and— and not to mention — he’s a literal hero!” you furrowed your brows, voice cracking near the end of your little spiel. “I don’t— how do I even come close to living up to that?”

Kaeya looks mildly surprised, albeit slightly sad. “You don’t have to. You’re his lover. And—”

“But I shouldn’t be!” you shake your head, eyes watering in frustration. He didn't get it. “Diluc is perfect! And I couldn’t be farther from that…”

Kaeya sighs. You hear the floorboards creak as he moves to sit next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Now, I have no idea what got these thoughts in your head, but they’re irrelevant. Diluc is really not that perfect—”

“Yes, he is. It’s completely unfair to Diluc for me to stick with him,” you mumble, throat dry. “I’m not good enough.”

“Hey, now,” Kaeya chastises. “I, for one, think you’re fantastic. Diluc, as… mediocre of a brother he is, makes some good choices. And one of them was choosing you to be his partner,” he pauses, letting the words sink in before beginning to speak again.

“Not to mention, Diluc is his own person with his own free-will. You don’t get to decide whether he wants you or not, he does. And he’d be an idiot not to want you. Given he’s still in a relationship with you, I guarantee a lack of want isn’t the case.”

That gets you thinking. Whilst on some degree, Kaeya is making sense — everyone makes mistakes. Diluc, as perfect as he is, isn’t exempt from that. A slip in judgement, or simply not thinking things through could've caused this situation. A situation that, in Diluc’s mind, could be one that he thinks he’s trapped in. Breaking up with you could hurt his relationship with Kaeya even more, given the two of you are friends. This then makes him trapped, in a sense. Right?

You settle into a somber silence, Kaeya's hand rubbing gentle circles on your back.

"I really..." don't think that's true. Not like you were gonna say that, though. Kaeya was already dealing with a lot already -- you interrupting his time to do paperwork just so you could rant was enough.

"You really...?"

"I... ah, thank you. I really wanna thank you. You're a good friend, Kaeya."

The cavalry captain smiles, "Of course I am. I'm the best."

You chuckle, looking away. A beat passes. "I should head back, shouldn't I?"

Kaeya hums, nodding his head gently. "Probably," He moves from his spot next to you and settles back into his desk chair, sighing. Blue hair sways as he hangs his head back, eyes sliding shut.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you stand, plastering on a bright smile. "Thanks again, Kaeya.”

Kaeya’s eyes meet yours for a beat, narrowing in suspicion at your sudden change in mood. "…Anytime."

The atmosphere feels odd when you walk into the Dawn Winery.

“Diluc?” you call.

“Was that true?”

His voice responds. You look towards him. He’s got his back towards you, leaning casually on a chair with his arms crossed. His shoulders are still.

Diluc seems solemn. He still won’t face you.

“Was wha—”

“Do you really believe that? That you’re such a burden to me?” He turns his head to face you slightly.

Your body stills. You almost wait for him to clarify if he overheard your conversation with Kaeya, but it's a clear guarantee that he has. Diluc’s eyes are looking everywhere but at yours.

“Oh. That. Uh,” your lip trembles slightly, “Yeah, I do think that. B—But it’s not your fault! And, you know, it’s alright if you want to break up with—”

“How could you say that?” Diluc whispers. His eyes finally meet yours. It’s a startling sight; eyes red-rimmed and brows furrowed with such emotion. Diluc never loses his cool. Not even in front of you. “You mean everything to me. You could never be a problem, nor a burden to me. I am… not all that perfect. Not as much as you make me out to be. Don’t compare yourself to the likes of me,” he pauses, contemplative. His brows knit together further, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. He chuckles dryly, “You’ll only disappoint yourself.”

"You are perfect, though. It's--"

"No, I'm not. That’s delusional.”

You flinch back.

“No, that’s not what I—” he rubs a hand on his temple, “That’s exactly what I mean. Sometimes I say the wrong thing, or make the wrong choice. My money and wealth doesn’t make me better. I’m still… me. Nobody’s perfect. Especially not me.”

“But… that—”

“There’s no use trying to disagree. I am not perfect. Neither are you. Nor anyone else.”

You purse your lips, avoiding his eyes. You can hear his heavy boots approaching you, his clothing rustling and buckles clinking.

“…You don’t get it, Diluc.”

He hums, “Enlighten me, then. What don’t I get?”

“I’m not good enough for you. You deserve someone better,” you sigh, “You might not be perfect, but in my mind, and everyone else’s, you are damn near close. I’m not worth it. I’m probably one of the worst picks for you and you don’t even know it--”

“--I do know that you’re one of the best picks for me. And I think that I, as an independent adult man, would know what’s good for me. I know what I want,” Diluc pauses, grabbing your hands with glove-clad fingers, “and I want you. No one else. Just you.”

You pursed your lips. "Surely--"

"No. There are no exceptions, no 'but's, no nothing. I want you," he clenches his jaw, "only you."

"...You aren't staying with me just to keep on good terms with Kaeya, right?"

"What? No," Diluc sighs again, exasperated. He goes silent for a bit -- as if considering what to say that will convince you. "A baby is able to cry when they want food, or reach out when they want affection. If a baby can figure out what they want, why can't I?"

"Diluc, that isn't the same at all--"

"[Y/N]. It doesn't matter. Stop arguing with me. You will not win."

"Yeah, but a baby--"

"[Y/N]."

"--doesn't have complex desires like--"

"[Y/N]."

"Okay, fine."

[scp230kinnie]

Hey bro I see that your back now!!:)Was wondering if you could write a Hunter fic there are none on this app and I’m dying😭💕

YESS OKAY OKAY ermmmm let’s see

Hunter Sylvester x reader

Character: Hunter Sylvester

Genre: Fluff I guess😭 sum angst i think

Lots of it is paraphrased cuz I didn’t wanna sound stupid.. I also change the plot a bit

Warnings: I KEEP SWITCHING BETWEEN SECOND AND THIRD PERSON IM SORRY mentions of his mommy issues. Arguing. I suck at writing things. Reader = y/n💀 That’s it I think,,,, nOT PROOFREAD

Hunter Sylvester and you were once kindred spirits, enduring the rough path of middle school together. Your friendship was going perfect for a while, and he’d even started to gain feelings for you.

The long shadow of change began to appear as the first day of high school approached. Hunter, a sentimental guitarist with a heart full of unsaid things, started to notice changes in the shapes of your friendship. The smooth relationship you used to have was torn apart by new people, different schedules, different levels of popularity, and new environments. When high school came around, you started to get (somehow) more popular, and he felt as if he was left behind.

underneath it all, Hunter had more than just a quiet crush that had grown stronger with time. When life threw a curveball at him in sixth grade, your friendship came through for him. His mother had left abruptly, leaving a kind of void in him. You were one of the few constants in the midst of the chaos, providing comfort during the storm.

The strains of life’s melody transformed into a battlefield where your two bands were destined to be put against each other—a Battle of the Bands. As the band's frontman, Hunter struggled with the memory of a friendship that had endured heartache and the passage of time in addition to the need for victory. He would do anything to win the battle of the bands, and you both knew that.

On that crucial night, Hunter's nerves were crazy. His fists tightened, and like a melancholic tune, the recollections of sixth-grade hardships and your support reappeared. You tuned your instrument (or practiced your vocals), symbolically adjusting the common past that appeared through the bonds of your friendship.

The night goes on and the crowd seats and sings along with all the different songs that the different bands were playing. The judges had made their decision and everyone was waiting to hear who the number one champion. Or “metal lord” would be. (I’m so sorry💀)

Hunters band, Skullflower secured the place of runner up. A bittersweet taste after hearing that your band had been the winner. Amidst the cheers and applause, Hunter knew he had to come find you. He may have been a little upset, but ultimately he was extremely proud of you for winning. He’s always known you’d loved music, and you would constantly practice.

He found you in the band room in another hallway of the school. “Hey.” Is all he can manage to say. He says it quietly, but just loud enough for you to have heard it. You turn to him and look up to meet his eyes. “I’m glad you guys won, you really deserved it.” He says. He tries his best not to sound bitter or sarcastic, because he really means what he’s saying. You smile in return.

“Thanks Hunter. Honestly I feel like your band should’ve won. You guys were amazing” you say in response. He smiles the slightest bit back at you.

“I feel like you should know.. while it’s just us..” he starts to say, but doesn’t know how to finish it. His eyes reflect years of shared history, as well as love for you. He thinks you look absolutely beautiful tonight. As well as every day of course. “I really missed you. Being with you- I’m- hanging out with you I mean. We used to be so close I guess we just.. drifted when we got to this school you know? Your popularity just intimidated me a bit and I thought you would turn out like the other fake bitches at this school.”

“I missed hanging out with you too. We used to be so close and I just.. thought you didn’t want to be friends with me anymore when you stopped talking to me. Stopped calling me to talk about random things and texting me about your day. I thought you hated me” you respond.

“I thought I did too. But if I have to be honest, I was just scared. I just really liked you. Ever since middle school.. I mean- I still do, but I- I just- I don’t know. I thought that if I told you that you’d make fun of me and tell all your friends and stuff. I dont Care if you don’t feel the same, I just wanted to tell you.” He says. It sounds like he’s just saying whatever comes into his mind, without even thinking. “You just looked so beautiful on that stage and I just felt so proud when I found out your band won”

You’re not sure how to respond. “Hunter i… what..? Why..? I’ve never really seen you as the type of guy to have a crush on people. I thought you were too ‘metal’ for that” admittedly you’d caught him staring at you a fair bit of times. You’d had a hunch he felt something for you, but you couldn’t be sure because of his usual demeanour. “I really like you too, if I’m being honest. I always regret us drifting apart. I felt like you’d never like me back, but knowing what I know now.. it’s really.. I don’t know”

“So if that’s the case, want to go out with me? I have some tickets to a concert in town later this week”

And whatever you can imagine what happens from there

Thanks for reading, sorry if it’s bad or hard to read. Leave me more metal lords requests AND ALICE IN BORDERLAND REQUESTS PLEASE

Read more of my stuff yay

[theaawalker]

melodies in bloom. [crybaby x y/n]

Pairing: CryBaby x fem!reader Song Inspo: We Fell in Love in October by girl in red Word Count: 1,728 Summary: Your return to K-12 Academy brings a mix of nostalgia and apprehension, amplified by the enigmatic presence of CryBaby, whose haunting music and mysterious aura seemed to mirror the school's unsettling undercurrents. As they gravitate towards each other amidst the eerie backdrop, you sense that CryBaby holds secrets that could unravel both the school's mysteries and their own intertwined fates. Warnings: extreme fluff Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

The sun blazed overhead, casting a golden hue over the school grounds as Y/N strolled through the courtyard of K-12 Academy. It was a new semester, but for Y/N, everything felt familiar yet filled with untapped possibilities. She adjusted the strap of her backpack, the weight of her textbooks a discomforting reminder of the academic challenges ahead.

Returning to K-12 felt like stepping back into a suffocating routine.

"Fleur!" Y/N called out, spotting her fiery-haired friend chatting animatedly with Angelita under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Fleur turned, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she hurried over to Y/N.

"Hey, Y/N! Ready to tackle this new year head-on?" Fleur exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious even in the face of Y/N's skepticism.

Y/N smirked, tossing her hair defiantly. "Sure, let's see what kind of chaos K-12 throws at us this time."

Angelita looked up from her sketchbook, her hazel eyes observing the duo with quiet amusement. "At least we can count on it being eventful."

As they walked towards the school building, Y/N couldn't help but notice the familiar faces of Celeste and Magnolia sitting under the oak tree, their usual air of sophistication and drama already in full swing.

"Did you hear CryBaby's back?" Magnolia whispered excitedly as Y/N approached.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued despite herself. "Already? I wonder what she's been up to."

Celeste rolled her eyes, stirring her salad with practiced nonchalance. "Who knows. She's always been a bit... unpredictable."

Y/N nodded, silently agreeing. CryBaby—Melanie Martinez—had always intrigued her with her unique style and the aura of mystery that surrounded her. Y/N admired CryBaby's individuality and rebellious spirit, qualities she found herself drawn to amidst the conformity of K-12.

Later that afternoon, curiosity got the best of Y/N as she found herself standing outside the music room. She could hear the faint strains of a piano and CryBaby's haunting voice drifting through the closed door. Intrigued, Y/N pushed it open quietly.

Inside, CryBaby stood by the piano, completely absorbed in the music as she poured her heart into each note. Y/N leaned against the doorframe, captivated by the raw emotion in CryBaby's voice. The song was a melancholic melody that echoed Y/N's own feelings of restlessness and longing.

CryBaby finished the song, her eyes fluttering open as she turned towards Y/N, a surprised yet gentle smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, hey," CryBaby greeted softly, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Y/N smirked, her usual spunk coming to the forefront. "Hey there. Didn't mean to crash your solo performance, but damn, CryBaby, you've got some serious talent."

CryBaby chuckled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Thanks. I guess I just needed to blow off some steam."

They fell into easy conversation, discussing music, art, and their shared disdain for the stifling atmosphere at K-12 Academy. Y/N found herself opening up to CryBaby in ways she hadn't with anyone else, drawn to the authenticity and defiance that defined her.

In the dimly lit music room's corner, Y/N and CryBaby found themselves surrounded by a hushed atmosphere, broken only by the soft strains of a piano melody CryBaby was playing. The room seemed to shrink around them, cocooning them in a world of their own.

CryBaby's fingers moved effortlessly over the keys, each note carrying a hauntingly beautiful quality that filled the air with melancholy and longing. Y/N leaned against the wall, her gaze fixed on CryBaby, captivated by the raw emotion pouring out through the music.

"You have such a gift," Y/N murmured softly, breaking the silence that hung between them. CryBaby paused, her fingers hovering over the keys as she turned towards Y/N, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice a gentle whisper that echoed through the room. Y/N stepped closer, drawn to CryBaby's vulnerability and the unspoken connection that seemed to bind them together.

"It's like your music tells stories that words alone can't express," Y/N continued, her eyes searching CryBaby's face.

CryBaby's gaze softened, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and understanding. "Sometimes, music is the only way I know how to make sense of everything," she confessed, tracing the piano keys.

They stood in the quiet embrace of the music room, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them like a delicate melody waiting to be resolved. Y/N reached out tentatively, her fingertips brushing against CryBaby's hand. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through Y/N, a silent acknowledgment of the emotions stirring within her.

CryBaby turned towards Y/N, her hand instinctively intertwining with Y/N's, their fingers interlocking in a silent promise of solidarity and understanding. In that moment, amidst the echoes of piano keys and the warmth of their joined hands, Y/N knew that their bond was something beyond words—a harmony that resonated deep within their souls.

And as the music continued to play, filling the room with its bittersweet melody, Y/N and CryBaby found solace in the quiet communion of their shared passion and unspoken desires.

She turned to CryBaby, a playful glint in her eyes.

"You know, CryBaby," Y/N began teasingly, nudging her shoulder gently. "You're not as mysterious as you think you are."

CryBaby raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh, really? And here I thought I had everyone fooled."

Y/N chuckled, the sound echoing through the quiet night. "Nah, I see right through you. Underneath that mysterious exterior, there's a softie who secretly loves cheesy romance movies."

CryBaby laughed, a genuine, unrestrained sound that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. Their eyes found each other naturally, fingers intertwining as they sat in the comfortable silence of the pastel parlor. Y/N felt a sense of ease and belonging she hadn't felt since she left home.

From that moment, Y/N and CryBaby's bond deepened, their unspoken feelings hanging in the air like a shared secret. An unsaid promise. To navigate the challenges of school life together, supporting each other's dreams and finding solace in their rebellious spirits.

Just then, a sharp feedback played in the school speakers. It must've went on for five minutes, way too long for Y/N and CryBaby to have to cover their ears.

"Attention, K-12 students," the Principal's raspy voice arose, "all must report to the grand auditorium for a final orientation before the hour. Any children who object will be sentenced to six weeks detention! ...That is all." So much for rebellious spirits.

As they walked hand in hand through the corridors of K-12, Y/N couldn't help but ponder how this semester would play out. Cruel professors. Power-abusing principals. Bratty boys. Cutthroat girls. Ghouls in ballrooms, snakes in covers, melodies of death, and worse. Despite the dissonance of their surroundings, she knew that her connection with CryBaby was a melody of its own—a vibrant tune that resonated with the beauty of two souls unafraid to defy expectations and embrace their true selves.

And amidst the chaos of K-12's relentless drama, Y/N knew that their bond was a testament to the power of authenticity and the magic of unexpected connections, even in that academic hell.

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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[excelsi-or]

artistic expression (woozi fic)

I'm thoroughly enjoying writing these. They’ve been like 20-minute fics when I see or hear something I like.

I’ve been writing forever and making art for the last decade, but I realize not everyone does the same to express themselves. Or believes they can’t.

w.c. 773 (fluff)

Jihoon overhears her talking to Soonyoung between snippets of songs.

She’d stopped at the studio on her way home from work with dinner. After eating, Jihoon had given her a little kiss to the head and went back to work. As she was about to leave, Soonyoung had popped in.

“You know, that would be a great song lyric,” Soonyoung comments.

She laughs. “Maybe.”

“Seriously. It completely encompasses…” When Soonyoung doesn’t finish the thought, Jihoon glances over his shoulder. Soonyoung is creating large circles with his hands, trying to encompass… something.

“Life?” she guesses when Soonyoung doesn’t say anything.

Soonyoung hums. “Yes, but it’s such a specific line to encompass life right now. Like the essence of kidult but in a more… poetic way.”

In the reflection of his computer monitor, Jihoon can see her shake her head. “You guys have a song for that.”

“But yours is… melancholic.”

“Melancholic?” she echoes.

Soonyoung chuckles. “Word of the day.”

“Song writing’s your guys’ thing. I’ll stick to policy documents and research papers.”

“But don’t you ever just want to write… fun stuff? Not that your stuff isn’t important or whatever—” The ‘whatever’ makes her snort in Jihoon’s favourite way that makes him smile. “—but what about all those poetic things going on in your head?”

“Poetic things?”

“Clearly you think about things.”

“Clearly.”

“So, why not express them? You can write.”

“I think I’m just better at appreciating the art than creating it,” she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She walks over to Jihoon and gives him a kiss on the head goodbye. When he grabs her wrist to stop her, she raises an eyebrow in response.

“I wanna ask you something,” he says as he drops his headphones around his neck.

Soonyoung gets the hint. He hugs her goodbye and pats Jihoon’s arm. “I’ll see you in the practice room.”

Once Soonyoung leaves, taking the leftovers with him, she meets Jihoon’s eye again. “What’s up?”

“Talk to me about life,” he says. He pulls her to stand in front of him, sliding his chair closer so she stands between his legs.

She blinks at the request. Resting her butt against his desk, she shakes her head, not understanding his question.

“Soonyoungie seems to think you have a way with words that you won’t share with the world.”

Rolling her eyes, she straightens up and readjusts her bag on her shoulder. “I think Soonyoung thinks everyone has an ability to artistically express themselves.”

Jihoon studies her expression. It’s not anger, not frustration. Disappointment feels the closest. “And you don’t?”

“When have you ever seen me artistically express myself, Hoonie?”

“Verbally,” he answers. It’s almost as if he was just waiting for her to ask him.

Another roll of her eyes. “The things I say to you in bed don’t exactly count.”

This makes him laugh. Her ability to joke means that she’s not that hurt. He laces their fingers together and she rests back against the desk. “Not just then. I mean, you’re able to express your thoughts and feelings in plain language. It’s a different kind of poetry.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

The emotion comes to him then: Bitterness.

“Would you want to be able to do this?”

“This…?”

Jihoon motions towards his desk, littered with song lyrics and half-finished thoughts.

She picks one up and her eyes go over the words. “Yeah. I would. Your stuff is fun to read. Mine is…”

“Boring,” Jihoon chuckles. He pulls her to his lap, relieving her of her bag. She sits comfortably in the space between his thighs, his arms around her as he shows her a couple of songs.

“Soonyoung’s right, you know.”

“About?”

Jihoon clicks open one song and then rifles through the papers on his desk for the one he’s looking for. He sets the paper down in front of her. Leaning his chest against her back, he peers around her to point at one particular verse.

“This was something you said to me a couple weeks ago.” He plays the song. “And it inspired me to write this.”

By the time he’s shown her the most recent songs her words have inspired, Jihoon swears she’s crying. But she won’t look at him and he can’t see her face properly from this angle.

“Jagi?”

She sniffles and then clears her throat. “Thank you.”

Jihoon kisses her shoulder. “I can help you express things artistically if you ever want that.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure. I don’t think I’ve ever been useful in your work, but,” he gestures to his desk again, “this has you written all over it.”

[limjaeseven]

Coca-Cola

Pairing: Jihoon x Mingyu

Genre: Fluff, mentions of Angst

Rating: General

Warnings: Mention of alcoholism

Word Count: 728

Summary: Mingyu crushing over the hot coke (coca-cola) addict at his bar.

[a/n]: Another tipsy drabbles lets go!

“Who comes to a bar to drink that much coke?”

Mingyu had seen all sorts of customers over the years, from melancholic drunks to drinks-after-work types, one drink to one more drink and then one more. He had never expected to see the human incarnation of a fire ball to turn up at his bar and drink coke with the passion of a raging alcoholic, though.

“Don’t know, chief, but that doesn’t seem like a good choice for his teeth or his kidneys,” Wonwoo said as he worked on refilling the customer’s drink.

“I mean we aren’t good for anyone’s liver. At least it’s better than alcohol?” Mingyu’s eyes landed on the customer every now and then. Despite his short stature, he guessed not an inch over five foot six, the man commanded quite the presence.

No one dared to sit by him, seeing his face and just finding someplace else. It was a quiet bar, meant more for professional gatherings and semi-formal dates, not usually greeted by angry solo drinkers, which is what made the man stand out so much.

That or how attractive the man was.

Mingyu didn’t like to use him owning a bar as an opportunity to eye good looking people but he couldn’t always help himself. The man at his bar was undeniably handsome, probably one of his best till date. With his short cropped hair, smudged eye shadow and bright red leather jacket, he looked a lot like a pop star.

It went on for hours, and Mingyu found himself more and more concerned. The man kept sitting there, his head bent low, asking for one coke zero after the next. They would soon start running low on their stock at the rate the man was going. Fortunately they were nearing closing time and the bar had mostly cleared out.

“Sir?” Mingyu asked carefully.

“Another one, please,” the man said, not even looking up.

“I think that’s enough, sir.”

“You’re cutting me off coke zero?”

“No sir, we’re about to close.”

The man finally looked up at Mingyu, having to crane his neck up to meet his eyes, “Where am I supposed to find more coke at this hour?”

“A convenience store, I presume?” Mingyu felt more confused than he had ever felt before in his life.

“Checked every single one in the area, none of them have it in stock for some reason. I’ll just have one more and leave.”

“I’m sorry sir, it’s really late. We have to close right now.”

“Can’t you close while I drink the last one?” The man asked, a sad pout of his face. He was far too attractive for Mingyu to say no to.

“Alright, I guess.” He filled the man’s glass one more time and got his staff to start cleaning up the place. The customer seemed reluctant to finish his drink to the point where there was still some left in his glass by the time everyone had left, leaving Mingyu waiting for him. “You done, sir?”

“Yeah, just a second.” He downed what was left and handed Mingyu his glass and credit card. He quickly rung him up and headed inside to wash up. He thought about the customer and laughed to himself, not knowing what to make of him.

When he was out, the customer was still sitting at the bar, scrolling through his phone.

“You haven’t left yet?”

“What do you think I waited this long for?” The man asked with a smirk

“What do you mean?” Mingyu asked.

“And I thought hot people being dumb was a myth.” The man got up from his seat and stood close to Mingyu. He barely came up to Mingyu’s shoulder but his eyes more than made up for his stature. “Lee Jihoon.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you need a special invitation to give me your name?”

“Kim Mingyu.”

“So, Mingyu, how about you walk me home?”

“What?”

“Are you straight?”

“No?”

“Then?”

“What was with all the coke zero?”

“I enjoy feeding my vices,” He said, a smirk on his face. “One for coke, the other for handsome men.”

Mingyu didn’t know what to say as Jihoon hooked his arm around his and walked him out of the bar.

[araiz-zaria]

biscuits and gravy

Some time in a year (usually earlier in the warmer seasons, sometimes later) Thomas would take Sherman on a road trip down South, stopping at diners along the route to savor (the best) biscuits and gravy that each place could possibly offer to them (Thomas would usually make this trip twice a year, at least — once with Sherman and once with Frances).

Sometimes it is just a road trip with no particular end point in sight — a round trip, more or less — but other times they drive with an end point in their — Thomas' to be exact — mind. Either way they'd look forward to it. (Though admittedly reluctance lingers in Thomas' mind when they go on the trip with the latter purpose).

Thomas notes meticulously in his mind all the diners they had been to on their road trips — be it with Sherman or Frances (or even on his own) — he wrote things down just in case, sure, but with the way he drives he feels like he could just do it with his mind. Sherman sometimes reminds him of one diner or another — sometimes Thomas is thankful of his reminder, other times he tells his gingerhaired friend that they can skip that one diner for another, better one he discovered from his previous trip (one thing for sure, though, is that they never skip a diner due to a hurry — Thomas makes sure that they are never in a hurry). Whenever they aren't at a diner, they are sure to savor the changing scenery as they drive through their route, while driving at a leisurely pace.

Sometimes Sherman speeds up his driving when he is behind the wheel, especially when they go with the latter purpose of the trip, but Thomas, always conflicted with the desire to not dawdle on the trip yet also not to rush on the route lest they miss interesting things along the way, complains when he finds out the gingerhaired man drives at a faster pace. "I thought you couldn't wait to arrive sooner this time?" Sherman usually asks. "Doesn't mean you have to drive faster..." is Thomas' usual response. "You know I can drive safely while maintaining speed, right?" is his usual follow up, hoping that the elder friend would still let him drive fast. "That doesn't matter...my point still stands..." is the elder friend's final response, usually. But what point exactly, is how Sherman is often tempted to keep responding to him, but knowing better about that particular purpose, he usually stays silent about it and complains (mockingly) about him doubting his driving skills instead. Thomas, seeing through the egging on from his gingerhaired friend, only wryly responds by telling him that he trusts his driving skills, aversion to rushing aside.

Whenever they stop at a diner, they might also order other things aside from biscuits and gravy (and their usual cup of coffee) — extra fries, onion rings or sausages, pancakes or waffles, or if they are at a particularly good diner, a slice of pie a la mode. Sometimes Sherman orders another thing altogether, especially when they have their biscuits and gravy for the day already, to the bemusement of the elder friend (the dish is the theme of their trip, after all). Sherman usually counters him by saying that the biscuits and gravy in a certain diner isn't exactly up to his liking, or that they are past breakfast time that day (then again not every diner serves biscuits and gravy past breakfast time), and Thomas could only sigh at that, gazing dejectedly before he faces his own dish again.

Sherman knows why they travel for biscuits and gravy, he knows it's not merely for the sake of culinary exploration — there is another, deeper reason than that — and while he doesn't always state it he feels slightly bad whenever he orders another (main) dish, and he always try to compensate by ordering something that also has gravy in it. Thomas, knowing how his friend's moodiness influences his actions, understands it whenever he sees his friend orders another main dish, despite his inital show of disapproval (and he appreciates the fact that his friend usually orders something still with gravy in it). In the end he realizes that on a given day in their trip, Sherman still has one portion of biscuits and gravy with him, and that is enough for him (he is the one who needs to savor this dish the most, after all).

"This is the best biscuits and gravy I ever have in a long while!" the gingerhaired man compliments. "...outside the South..." the elder friend remarks, amusedly sneering at him. "I was about to say that..." he quickly adds, conceding to the elder friend. There's always this solemn sense of appreciation whenever they had the dish on the trip, especially when it happens to be the first biscuit and gravy they have in the day. It seldom happens outside the trip, not to Sherman at least, for it is such a simple dish, though only seemingly so (during their drive Thomas would often recount his attempts to replicate the taste and flavor of biscuits and gravy he had during the trip when he cooks at home — he often emphasizes how hard it is to do so). As they drive closer and closer, and are finally in the South, Sherman will often notice how Thomas' face lights up whenever they have (good) biscuits and gravy at a diner in the South. Must have tasted like home, he tenderly observes, gazing affectionately towards the elder friend.

If it were just a round trip of sorts, they could drive way down to South Carolina (Thomas even offers Sherman to go all the way to Louisiana occasionally, but Sherman tells him that unless the crawfish season is in full swing they don't have to drive all the way down there — this is chiefly his trip after all). But when they go with that particular purpose, they will just go until Virginia — which invariably makes the road trip shorter (another reason why Thomas never feels a need to rush). The shortness of the trip is one thing, the thing that he is going to face at the end point is another.

Thomas loathes the moment whenever he arrives at at his supposed (childhood) home, a place that had long abandoned him.

He always feels that so many things have changed since he left, but even the things that remained the same feel different to him — nothing left in the place reminds him even faintly of home anymore. If it weren't the place itself, what were it then that he was after? The people?

He knew full well that nobody there is waiting for him, nobody is eager to see him again. Nobody would welcome him.

If there were such people, they would probably have been gone a long time ago (while they were still alive, even).

He wonders himself why he still makes this trip, as he stands in front of the tombstone of his parents, after laying a slim bouquet of flowers for their grave. He has a place of his own now, a loved one, caring friends, so he definitely feels at ease at where he currently lives — but does he ever feel truly at home? (As he was once in this place?)

If he has a comfortable place of his own now, why does he still feel homesick every now and then? (Where does he feel homesick of, actually?)

He stands in haze of emotions as he contemplates the thoughts — a part of him hopes that he could still feel what little left from his supposed home, the last withering trace of it, while another part of him, partly fueled by scorn, feels like wanting to make sure that he doesn't feel anything anymore from his alleged childhood home (as if making sure that his new place is his current home — how dare he feel homesick of his old home...). Sherman could only stare in concern as he stands at a distance behind him. After a while, he sees Thomas sitting down on the ground, crossing his legs. The elder friend looks back at him, patting the ground besides him with his left hand, signalling to come sit beside him.

Sherman takes his place, sitting cross-legged besides him. Together they sit in silence. He occasionally glances towards his elder friend — his droopy eyes tinged with moroseness, his brows furrowed — he remains silent as Thomas heaves a deep sigh. His head sinks momentarily, before he straightens his neck again. Trying to stay mindful, he thinks his words carefully, as he forms his question.

"Why do you choose me for this particular trip, of all your friends?"

"You are probably the one who knows of such loss among my friends..."

Sherman drops silent as he hears that — it's true that he has experienced loss, some early in life too (just as his elder friend had), but this particular kind of loss, he is not sure if his elder friend judges correctly in this case (but perhaps he doesn't look for an exact match — if he were, surely there are other fellow Virginian Unionists to commiserate with?).

Perhaps it's not about what exactly the loss is, but rather how deeply it affects him — in which case, his elder friend might have just judged right by picking him. He might have never experienced the loss of his home state the way Thomas had, but since the death of his father he always felt the ground beneath him to be lossy, and the only way for him to stand on a firmer ground was to keep walking forward, searching for a surer footing. It is what had always pushed him away from his hometown — even though there are people he loves in it, he never feels entirely secure to plant his foot there since the passing of his father, he just knows in his guts that he is meant to be somewhere else.

Perhaps his elder friend (instinctively) asks him to help find him a sure footing for his heart in the new place?

If that were the case, then he is ready to help him with all his might.

Thomas heaves another deep sigh, looking down again, now his shoulders curled forwards. Sherman quietly place his right arm on his shoulders, embracing him gently. He glances at his elder friend, concern apparent on his eyes. Thomas glances back at his gingerhaired friend, his brows furrowed, his eyes seem almost crying, a forced faint smile appears on his lips, until it fades quickly and turns down. He reaches for a hug, his gingerhaired friend hugs him. He rests his head on his friend's lean shoulder, heaving in another deep, slow breath.

At that moment he realizes that the home he longs for is locked away in his mind, his memory — a place so secure he could not even reach into it except in spirit. He might be physically at his (alleged) old home, but his old home is no more, nowhere to be found, except in his mind, and while he feels sad that visiting that old place doesn't bring him any comfort anymore he feels slight relief in thinking that he carries a piece of home in his mind everywhere he goes, slowly fading away it might be.

The sun starts to hang lower down, as Sherman holds Thomas to comfort him...

[godlessandwrecked]

pas de deux | e. munson

a chance encounter sparks up an unexpected friendship, and suddenly, eddie is thrown into your world of shades of pink, tulle and classical music.

PAIRING: eddie munson x fem ballerina!reader

WORD COUNT: 7k

CONTENTS: suggestiveness, friends to lovers, cutesy girly ballerina reader, a bunch of clichés, eddie being a flirt, absolutely no knowledge about ballet, only the first little bit in eddie’s pov the rest is reader’s, no upside down just vibes x

A/N: this is literally 7k words of pure fluff, which is not my forte, but it’s very much needed….for obvious reasons…. you’re welcome <333

He hadn’t meant to pry on you, staring at you from the shadows, unannounced as he was, but…he couldn’t help it. He was stuck to the place the moment he laid eyes on you, unable to move a single digit or rip his gaze away from your dancing form.

He’d been roaming the school hallways during his free period, making his way out towards the woods, when he heard the music coming from the gym–that sad, melancholic weeping of strings. The door was slightly ajar, enough for him to peek in, and he just had to take a look, too curious in nature to go on about his business.

And there you were, floating above the wooden floor like an apparition. For a second, he thought you were a ghost. He could have sworn there was a white mist surrounding you, some kind of shimmering aura covering your body, tangling around your outstretched limbs and twirling form.

Eddie had never seen such a thing. It was painful to watch, really–such a tragic and beautiful thing–the way you glided gracefully to haunting violins, the music emitting through the battered speakers of a cassette player.

Standing on your tiptoes and spinning around seemingly effortlessly, your expression was saying everything that couldn’t be put into words. You were moving with so much passion, he was almost brought to tears, struck with an overwhelming emotion and an incomprehensible heavy chest. He felt like he was in a dream, so sure he was seeing some type of magical creature straight out of a fairy tale; some kind of sorceress, messing with his mind, right there, in front of his eyes.

He didn’t know how long he stood there for. He only became aware of his surroundings again once the music died down, as you came to the end of your routine, stopping in your tracks to hold a perfectly poised pose, your chest heaving up and down. And that’s when, unfortunately for Eddie, you noticed you weren’t alone in the gym.

You caught his reflection in the mirror behind you, letting out a startled gasp and a slight jump when you saw him. Eddie quickly turned away as your eyes locked with his, and was about to turn around to run out of the room when, “Hey!”

Eddie cursed himself under his breath, damning his stupid curiosity. Now he would have to come up with some explanation as to why he was watching you, and assure you he wasn’t a creep–even though he was being a creep–and make sure you understood he didn’t make a habit out of spying on teenage girls.

Great. Another tally on the board of why Eddie The Freak is, indeed, a freak.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to creep on you, that was weird,” he admitted, stepping into the room and approaching you in small, careful steps.

“Didn’t see you there. Were you watching for long?”

He frowned.

You were smiling.

“Not really,” he scratched his head. “I was just passing by and I heard the music, s’all.”

“That’s okay. I’d be curious, too.”

You weren’t mad? Okay, maybe he was dreaming.

He wasn’t used to talking to pretty, popular girls, and even though he always seemed to know what to say, he was at a loss. He knew who you were, your social circle made up of cheerleaders and basketball jocks, and the chances of weirding you out by saying the wrong thing were plenty. You were like a mythical creature, and he guessed it was hard for a mere human like him to know what to say to a unicorn once you were face to face with one.

The appropriate thing to do would be to apologize again and make his exit, but Eddie had never been the appropriate kind, and his tongue worked faster than his brain. “I had never seen anyone dance like that before. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you coyly smiled, looking down slightly embarrassed. You seemed taken aback by his honesty–even he was surprised by his own confession. “That’s very kind.”

“You looked like one of those little figurines in the music box thingys, you know? With the spinning-” he wriggled his finger.

You let out a genuine laugh, one that made Eddie instantly smile. “Like a ballerina, yeah,” you agreed. “I try.”

He felt lighter now. You weren’t angry or disgusted, you hadn’t freaked out and ran away screaming the weirdo of Hawkins High was stalking you. You were smiling, and playing into the conversation, laughing at his stupid joke.

“I’m sorry, again,” he apologized once more, just in case. “Didn’t mean to freak you out. You should continue, I interrupted you.”

“It’s okay, I swear. I was done anyway,” you said, bending down to reposition the legwarmers that were falling down your calves. And only then did Eddie notice what you were wearing.

And fuck him because you looked adorable.

In your tiny powder pink skirt and tights, matching pink leotard, exposing your shoulders and neck and the dainty silver chain resting on your chest, adorned with a little charm of a pair of ballet shoes. He’d never particularly cared for pink, but maybe he loved it now.

He must’ve looked like a fish, staring dumbfounded with his mouth halfway open. He just hoped he’d closed his mouth shut before you even noticed he was gaping at you.

“I should leave, ‘cause I’m sweaty,” you grimaced, looking down at yourself.

“Sure, sure,” he mumbled, moving to the side so he wouldn’t be in your way.

“But, Eddie…” you looked back at him with a shy smile, the sweetest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. “Next time you want to watch, just tell me. I’ll put in a little extra effort.”

And with that, you left the gym, leaving him standing there, completely caught off guard as he tried to process what had just happened. The way you’d turned around to face him as you made your exit, the way you’d smiled at him; the way you’d left him there, with his cheeks heating up and a smirk on his lips. And you knew his name?

What had he just gotten himself into?

•

•

•

“Earth calling!”

Fingers snapped in front of your face, startling you out of your daydream. Chrissy was looking at you from her side of the table, the furrow on her brow almost hidden by her thick fringe.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, turning back your attention to your half-eaten meal—already cold—and trying to avoid her inquisitive eyes. “You were saying?”

“Are you okay?” she asked, genuine concern on her face. Chrissy–sweet as cherries. “What’s got you so distracted today?”

You took a deep breath.

Eddie. Fucking. Munson.

That’s what. But of course, you weren’t about to tell that to your best friend, head of the Hawkins High cheer team. Not if you didn’t want her to run off scared, claiming you’d been possessed by the actual devil.

Eddie was sitting not too far away from your table in the cafeteria. Clearly the life and soul of his group of friends, everyone sitting around him was dying laughing every time he opened his mouth, his eyes lighting up when they did. And you just couldn’t stop staring.

A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have looked his way twice, wouldn’t have watched him long enough to notice the things you did now.

Sure, you’d seen him before, many times, through the school hallways, with his chains and leather jacket, and that smile plastered on his face, as if he knew something no one else did. And now you realized just how not scary he was. If you knew what to look for, if you looked past the facade, it wasn’t hard to see him at all.

Eddie in all of his glory. Unapologetically him.

Days after that encounter at the gym, you’d stumbled upon him in the parking lot after school one evening. More like, he’d stumbled upon you, saving the day.

You’d been frantically searching through your bag for your car keys, running late to your ballet class since your tutoring lessons with the juniors had run long. But they were nowhere to be found, and you were already counting your lucky stars that your instructor would be in a strangely good mood that day, because you were most likely not making it in time.

Eddie, who was waiting for his friends to show up for their D&D campaign, had seen your distressed form from his van and walked over to check on you. He offered to take you to the studio, assuring you it was no problem and he had plenty of time to spare.

You’d agreed.

The whole car ride, you couldn’t stop laughing, delightfully surprised by him and his sense of humor and how sweet and nice he was. You’d already gotten a taste of it back at the gym, but he seemed more comfortable now, with a heavy tune playing in the background through the speakers of his van, his big eyes fixed on the road as he listened to you talk.

He seemed interested about what you were telling him, eagerly asking questions and attentively listening to your answers. No one had ever cared so much about what you were passionate about before, not even the people you considered your closest friends, and it felt like a fist wound tight around your heart, squeezing painfully.

You wondered if this was what real friendship felt like. Tender, easy, uplifting, supportive.

Your friends’ influence was heavy on you, and under any other circumstances you wouldn't have given Eddie a second thought. But after he’d dropped you off and you’d bid your goodbyes, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and his smile and his witty quips and how easily he seemed to put you at ease.

Eddie, who so many people claimed was “scary” looking, with his tattoos and long hair and heavy metal. Eddie, who played some weird board game about fantasy creatures you hadn’t even heard of before and listened to all those bands your father deemed inappropriate and horrifying. Eddie, who did not seem to care about fitting in, who wasn’t afraid to stand out–who thought your dancing was beautiful.

“I’m okay,” you said now, trying to get out of Chrissy’s questioning. “Just…tests. And dancing. There’s a lot on my mind.”

“Of course.” She placed her hand on yours on the table. “If you need any help just let me know, okay? We can study together, if you want.”

You smiled at her appreciatively and nodded, relieved when she dropped the topic and moved onto another conversation with the rest of the group sitting around you. Your gaze inevitably diverted back to Eddie’s table, but he was gone, his seat empty even though his friends were still there.

It didn’t come as a surprise. The note you’d found in your locker that morning was very clear. Our spot after lunch. Unsigned, but in that familiar and messy scroll. You’d been looking forward to it all day.

Quickly, you made up some half-ass excuse that went mostly unnoticed, and got up from the table, practically sprinting through the hallways towards the woods behind the running track, to a spot where you knew business was made. A lot of the guys in the basketball team bought from Eddie there, you’d seen them sneaking away plenty of times, they just would never admit it, the bunch of hypocrites.

Eddie had asked you to meet him earlier than usual today. Supposedly, you were there to study, help him out with some of his classes, but it had been a few days since you’d touched a book, too caught up in talking about anything and everything to even bother.

And like every time you met him in that same exact spot, beneath the trees in that clearing that was now yours, your heart started beating faster, hard and loud enough that you could feel it pounding in your ribcage.

“I’m skipping physics for you, I hope you’re happy.”

Eddie was leaning against the wooden table, one leg casually propped up on the bench, all unruly dark curls shining under the March sun, denim vest over his leather jacket. He looked up at the sound of your voice, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“Skipping class? For me?” He placed his hand on his chest, his eyes wide. “Oh, I’m a terrible influence. You should drop me before I corrupt you.”

“Shut up, Munson,” you said, a smirk making its way onto your face, albeit your cheeks were heating up.

“No, seriously, are you okay? You sure you don’t have a bug that’s affecting your brain or something? Let me check-”

“Eddie! Stop it!” you laughed, catching his hand directed towards your forehead. “You’re making me seem like a loser.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the coolest person in this whole town.” You batted his hand away from your face when he tried to poke your cheek, but kept your hand in his, his fingers lacing with yours. “I’m serious. You do some weird twirling dance and wear pink tights and listen to fucking… I don’t know, Tchaikovsky? It’s weird. It’s cool as fuck.”

“Weird twirling dance? Jesus,” you scoffed.

He was looking at you fondly, with a smile on his face, the kind that made you jittery. His gaze felt as warm as his hand in yours as he played with your fingers, absentmindedly. And you just stood there, reveling in his touch and his words like a dumb school girl, when you should be in Mrs. Harris’ class, listening to some boring lecture on thermodynamics.

You had the inkling that Eddie always meant every word he ever said to you, and it was so foreign, to have someone be so honest and so…nice. When Eddie looked at you, he saw you, right through, and even though it was daunting to feel so vulnerable, you ate up every bit.

You couldn’t stand the tension between you, but you couldn’t break his gaze nor let go of his hand either. “So,” you exhaled. “What did you want me to meet you here for?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he frowned. “Did I need to have a reason?”

“I can’t just skip class without a good reason.”

“Okay, maybe you are a loser – OUCH!” He rubbed at his arm, where your fist had just collided with his bicep. “That hurt! You pack a punch.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grinned.

Eddie liked to tease you, and if any of his playful provocations came from anyone else but him, maybe they would have bothered you. But you understood his humor now—and his heart—and even if you sometimes couldn’t tell when he was being serious or messing with you, you took it gladly, because it meant he was comfortable enough with you, and you loved that.

That didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a light swat on the back of his neck when he poked fun at you every time you got a little serious. And every time, he got extra dramatic, like a little kid, as if you’d wounded him terribly.

The pout in his face was adorable, and you couldn’t help but lean in closer, and press a hesitant kiss on his right cheek.

Every bone in your body told you to linger there, see what would happen if you pulled away slowly, enough for your eyes to meet, inches away from his lips. But an irrational fear settled into your bones, one that was whispering in your ear that it was too soon, to not be stupid, to not fuck up. So you pulled away with the most confident smile you could muster, as if your closeness and the feeling of his warm skin against your lips hadn’t affected you in a way you hadn’t expected.

The look on Eddie’s face didn’t escape you, though. There was surprise there for a second, but then a triumphant, shit eating grin settled on his face. “Okay, I forgive you.” Then, a beat after, “You have to stop doing that, because it’s fucking adorable.”

“Doing what?” you asked confused. Not like you’d made a habit out of kissing his cheek, but maybe you were about to if he found you fucking adorable.

“That. That little smile, and the tilted head.”

You instantly repositioned your head straight, noticing how you were, in fact, doing exactly that. You hadn’t even noticed. “I’ll stop,” you nodded with a giddy grin.

“Please don’t,” he said, amused at you and giving your intertwined hands a squeeze.

“Okay? We should study,” you suggested, squeezing his hand back. You were done with the conversation. Best if you buried your nose in a book, just so he’d keep his mouth shut for the few minutes you could convince him to spend on school work instead of on riling you up. You could only handle so much at a time.

“Definitely,” he said, catching you distracted and finally managing to poke your cheek with his finger.

You swatted his hand away and let out an annoyed huff, sitting opposite him on the table, at a good arm’s length, with a poorly faked stern look. He opened up his book as you did the same, settling into a comfortable silence as a smile threatened to spill out.

You couldn’t keep letting him get away with the way he made your cheeks heat up. You just couldn’t.

•

•

•

The moment you saw Tyler Watts doing body shots off of his girlfriend’s belly button for everyone to see, you knew you shouldn’t have come to the stupid party. You’d already been doubting your decision before—mostly when half the cheer team gave you dirty looks as you walked in, hand in hand with Chrissy—but she’d been so insistent that you couldn’t say no to her adorable pout.

Any excuse was a good one to throw a party in Hawkins, and everyone had showed up in celebration of the beginning of spring break. The floor was sticky, the air thick with cigarette smoke, and it seemed like the whole of Hawkins High was there, the house crowded to a full, all jam-packed like a tin of sardines.

Chrissy, who’d been holding onto your arm just a while ago, was nowhere to be found, and without her there, you were starting to get that familiar feeling that you no longer belonged there. Not without her there, not after your big fallout with who you thought were your friends.

You hadn’t explicitly told anyone you were hanging out with Eddie, but some people had seen you together, and rumors had spread like fire around the school. When some girls from the cheer team you used to hang out with confronted you about it, as if you were doing something wrong, you mustered all your courage and tried to channel Eddie’s spirit, and told them to fuck off. Eddie was your friend, and if they weren’t okay with that, then they were never your friends at all.

He was sweet, and kind, and considerate, and he always made sure to check up on you. He always took every bad word aimed at him with a smile, and never allowed anything to drown his spirits, or at least, he didn’t let it show, just to not give anyone the satisfaction. Eddie was unapologetically him, and you weren’t aware of just how much you needed him until he came into your life.

After very little consideration–it was honestly embarrassing–you could admit it now. You loved it. The stupid leather jacket, and the rings, and the tattoos, and the long hair, and the guitar. Even the damned cigarette smoke that seemed to linger on his skin and now was so comforting to you. Eddie was so unlike everything you’d ever known, you were polar opposites in many aspects, and yet, you felt like he was meant for you.

Inevitably, you were thinking about him, and how much fun he was probably having doing whatever the fuck he was doing on a friday night. It didn’t matter what, you were sure you’d be having fun with him too. You always did.

The party was in full swing. People were way too drunk, dancing away to the poppy music blaring through the speakers, and whoever’s house this was, was already in shambles, even though it was barely 9pm. The night was going to be long, and all you wanted was to go home, curl up in bed, and listen to the mixtape Eddie had made for you.

Instead, you were stuck being miserable, sipping on stale cola, not comfortable enough to drink alcohol around anyone at the party. But maybe someone had spiked your drink because, was that Jeff? Jeff, as in Eddie’s friend? Since when was Jeff a party kind of guy? And was that Gareth next to him?

You frowned.

They were by the pool outside with a few other people. You could see them through the kitchen window, and you were sure it was them. Gareth was unmistakable, in his signature plaid vest.

You walked through the sea of bodies spread out all across the living room to get to the patio doors, bumping shoulders with various people. The rumble of laughing and yelling over the music got louder in your ears before it quieted down, as you slid the door closed behind you, the cool midnight air welcoming you and soothing your heated skin.

The moon was glowing crescent behind a veil of mist, barely illuminating the yard and making the dew on the grass sparkle like little diamonds. There weren’t many people outside, just a few strays chatting or smoking, and in the corner, Jeff and Gareth, propped up against the stone fence, laughing at whatever joke someone had made.

Just as you were making a beeline to Eddie’s friends, your gaze focused on them, you slammed hard against someone, crashing against a firm form. You let out a little yelp, and hands caught your shoulders, steadying you on your feet before you tripped and fell.

“There you go!”

You looked up to meet big brown eyes, staring you down from behind a curly fringe.

“Eddie?”

Eddie Munson—who very openly resented the party scene—was definitely the last person you expected to ever see at a Hawkins high school party.

You’d been thinking about him just a few minutes ago, and to see him there shocked you so greatly, that for a second you thought you were imagining him. But he was there, his warm hands on your shoulders as proof.  “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He chuckled. “I’m gonna be honest,” he said, dropping his hands from your shoulders to place them in his pockets, and looked down at his shoes, as if debating with himself. Then, he looked back up at you. “I just came because I knew you’d be here.”

Oh.

You tried to hide the surprise on your face. Really, you tried, but there was no masking the smile that was threatening to spill out. Damn him. He was so cute.

“And you dragged your friends here too?” you asked, dumbly. Not like he’d ever think you were dumb, but… you felt dumb. What were you supposed to say to that?

I’m glad you came, then.

“It looks like they’re having fun, so,” he shrugged. He stuck his tongue out–a nervous habit–his gaze moving away from his friends and back to you. “I got it bad, don’t I?”

You let out a small chortle.

Eddie was showing up at parties he didn’t even like just to see you.

Eddie.

Sure, he had it bad, that much was obvious, but in your own honest opinion, you were much worse.

When had you ever felt like this before? Never in your life. Not with any of the crushes you’d had before, which now, compared to Eddie, seemed so silly and trivial. Had you even really liked them? Attraction seemed like nothing compared to what Eddie made you feel with his stupid witty remarks and flirty comments.

You were just waiting for your feelings to overflow, for one of you to go for it and jump in, the clock slowly ticking until one of you made the first move, dancing around each other like Odette and the prince in Swan Lake.

You knew people were watching your exchange, could feel their eyes boring into the nape of your neck, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Eddie was smiling triumphantly, satisfied with himself now that he’d but confessed to you that he liked you, in his own cheeky way.

You were more than ready to lunge at him and kiss him dumb in the middle of some random kid’s backyard. You were. Luckily for you, he kept talking, “Are you having fun?”

“Honestly?” you grimaced. “Not really.” Now that you’re here…maybe.

He hummed, grabbing your half full glass from your hand to place it on top of the stone fence. “Wanna ditch?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

•

•

•

“Wow. A castle, for a princess.”

You twisted the key inside the lock with a roll of your eyes, popping the door open and stepping into your house as Eddie followed suit behind you, instinctively wiping the soles of his shoes on the doormat. It was dark, the street lights illuminating the framed pictures on the walls, but it was familiar enough that you didn’t bother turning the lights on as you guided Eddie through.

Your parents weren’t home for the weekend, trusting you to take care of yourself and be responsible—as you’d always been—but now you were doing exactly what they wouldn’t have guessed in a million years. Bringing a boy home.

And not just any boy. You couldn’t even imagine the look on your father’s face if he ever found out you’d brought the Munson kid home. It was weirdly amusing.

“You have a swimming pool?!” Eddie exclaimed as he climbed up the stairs behind you, his hand in yours.

“What swimming pool, you goof?” you laughed. You didn’t have a pool, and even if you did, he wouldn’t have been able to see it from the stairs, where there were no windows.

“And a pet tiger?! Rich people…”

“What are you talking about?” you looked back at him, to find that silly, playful smirk on his face. He just squeezed your hand and kept walking behind you, uncharacteristically careful to not bump into anything in the dark as you led him through the hallway to your bedroom.

“Aw! Of course your room is all pink.” Eddie stood by the doorway as you walked into your bedroom, leaning against the doorframe and looking around with his big curious eyes.

You knew he was probably itching to touch and inspect everything in sight, but he kept back and watched you as you turned the light of your bedside table on and took your jacket off, going about your business almost methodically.

You’d imagined him in your room before, just a late night fantasy you’d never talk about out loud, but this was different. He stuck out so sorely, in his Dio t-shirt and leather jacket amidst all the powder pink and flowery wallpaper, standing by your makeup vanity—but somehow, he didn’t look out of place. In your eyes, he fit in perfectly.

“Hey! Pink is the superior color,” you retorted.

“I like pink,” he shrugged. “Where are the Tchaikovsky tapes?”

He walked further into the room, the first pang of fear of overstepping gone. Eddie was always respectful of your personal space, a master at reading your energy around him, but as soon as you sat back on your bed, popping your shoes off to sit cross-legged, he understood you were welcoming him in. Now he was examining and sniffing every little bottle and container on your dresser, like a detective in some cheesy late night tv police drama.

“For the last time, Eddie,” you said exasperated. “I don’t listen to Tchaikovsky.”

“But you do! You hum it under your breath sometimes.”

You frowned.

You were guilty of going over choreographies in your head often, especially in the past month, Aurora’s variation in act 3 from The Sleeping Beauty replaying in your head over and over again in preparation for your next recital. You didn’t know you actually sang along to the music out loud, but apparently you did, because Eddie had noticed.

He noticed a lot more things about you than you realized.

“I was thinking,” he hummed, a cheeky smile on his face. “The only time I’ve seen you dance was that one time.”

“The one where you were creeping on me?”

“I wasn’t creeping! I was… admiring.”

“Sure, you weren’t,” you laughed. “If you wanna see me dancing, you’re gonna have to come to my recital.”

He groaned, “Can’t I get a private performance? Just to get me through.”

A private performance.

You grinned. It was so easy for him to make you jittery with just a couple of words. He just had that ability, to say exactly the thing that would make you tick at exactly the right time. But two could play that game, and you were starting to catch up.

An idea popped into your head. “Only if you dance with me.”

“Dance with you? I can’t dance for shit, sweets.”

“Come on! You don’t have to do much, just aid me in some steps.”

“I’ll look like a drunk duck, sweetheart,” he shook his head. “Look at me! I have two left feet.”

“Don’t be dramatic, you’ll do just fine. Come on, I’ll show you.”

You got up from your bed, dragging Eddie along with you in front of the full length mirror. You were barefoot, a long stretch from your pointé shoes, and wearing a too short skirt, no tights, but it would have to do.

“You’re gonna have to get a little closer,” you giggled as Eddie awkwardly stood behind you, his frame towering over you.

Reaching back, you grabbed both his hands on yours, and placed them where your waist met your hips. You could tell he was hesitant about touching you by the way he didn’t meet your eyes in the mirror, but he still did as he was told, scooting forward just a little more.

It surprised you, really, that he was always so willing and quick to make you embarrassed with his flirty comments, but was now battling with himself about getting a little too close; exactly when this was the perfect opportunity to drive you insane. And it surprised you even more just how eager you felt about having his hands on you.

“Eddie,” you whispered, your voice low in the dim, warm light of your bedroom, painting the walls a darker shade of pink.

“Yeah?”

“Closer.”

And he did get closer. To where there were no inches between you, his body practically flush to yours, his hands on your waist. You took a deep breath and straightened your stance, inevitably getting into a dancing mind frame even though you were just messing around. You were going to need it if you were to survive this.

You got on your tiptoes and lifted one leg, the carpet soft under your feet, not allowing you much movement or glide, but just enough to give Eddie a little demonstration. ”Just spin me around as I twirl. It’s easy.”

He tried his hand, shifting his hands on your waist and rotating your body as you spun slowly but easily with his help.

“See? Easy.”

Moving onto a different position, you came back to your center and stretched your leg out into an arabesque, as much as your skirt would allow you without making it too awkward, letting Eddie support your stance.

“Hold my hand,” you instructed, wriggling your stretched right arm so he’d know which one.

His hand brushed along the length of your arm, igniting goosebumps on its way, until he found your hand, holding it delicately in his. You lifted your arm up with his even further, letting him twirl you slowly in front of him; like a ballerina in one of those music boxes, just like he’d said that first time you met.

Eddie was silent, weirdly so, considering how he never seemed to shut up, always having something to say or point out. But he was just observing, focused on you, and the timbre of your voice as you guided him through the dance, careful about where he placed his hands, hesitant in his touches and not allowing them to linger for too long.

It was such a tender moment, letting Eddie have a first hand taste into your world, and it made you giddy and weirdly prideful, your stomach filling with butterflies. There was a slight smile on his face as he watched you, biting back a broader one that would show a little too much. You were smiling too, soft laughs emitting from both your mouths as you danced, slowly spinning in his hold.

He was nervous, that much you could tell. But you could also tell the slowly growing tension that was building between you, how it seemed to stretch on tighter the longer his hands remained on your waist. And you were dying for it to just snap.

And then he did something unexpected, something that basically turned you into a puddle, slowly melting onto the floor. He leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on your temple, as if he couldn’t help himself, and then you met his eyes in the mirror. They were soft, but darker than usual, and you couldn’t really tell if it was a trick of the light or something else.

What if… no no no no no. But what if…?

His hand was resting on your stomach, just over your belly button. You grabbed it in yours and guided it lower down your body, slowly inching down towards your hip, and even lower, where the end of your skirt met your upper thigh.

His breath was on your neck, his hair tickling your skin, and you understood what a dangerous game you were playing. How poorly it could go if you had somehow misunderstood the situation, misunderstood your connection; the tension you felt between you. But you just couldn’t stop.

Eddie was like a drug. All of him, absolutely intoxicating and so, so addicting. From the moment he’d spoken the first word to you, you’d been hooked, unable to think about anything else but him and his sunshiney smile that didn’t suit his looks but was somehow so perfectly him.

But right now you couldn’t think about much more than his fingers, slowly moving down your body, and the goosebumps arising all over your skin. They felt a little too good, a little too close to heaven. Thankfully, Eddie didn’t seem to mind, keeping his hand steady, his head buried in your neck.

The coldness of his rings on your inner thigh sent shivers down your spine. Your breath was caught in your throat, a lump that wouldn’t let you fill your lungs with the air your body needed but your mind refused, too busy in other more carnal needs to bother about your mortality. You felt like your legs were about to give up any minute now, the challenging years and years of dancing and endurance reduced to nothing as his fingers brushed the bare skin of your thigh.

Your fingers were tingling, your core vibrating. Your eyes fluttered shut. All of your senses were overwhelmed by his presence and his touch, his chest pressed against your back, his hair tickling your neck. It was all too much for you, who had barely even kissed anyone before, and was now tangled in the wonder that was Eddie Munson.

“Eddie,” you sighed.

Suddenly, he spun you around, making you face him, so quickly and catching you so unprepared it almost made you dizzy. You slammed against his chest, gasping in surprise as you met his eyes, his face much closer than you’d anticipated. Your hands held onto his biceps, the leather of his jacket soft under your fingers.

“Hi,” he grinned.

“Hi.”

The urge to giggle like a maniac was strong, but you reckoned it would ruin the mood, so you bit down on your lip instead. He was so close, your noses were almost brushing, and he was so damn cute.

“Eddie.”

“What?” he said, voice soft, both of you moving in whispers, too afraid any loud noise would break the spell.

You were melting into each other, with his hands planted on your waist, at the band of your skirt, pulling your body flush to his. Whilst they had been hesitant at first, now they were firm and decided, like they’d found a home there, like they fit perfectly. Just as you had thought the first time you held hands, and then it became your thing; to tangle your fingers with his, just because there was no other way to be around each other but to be holding hands, because it was as normal and regular and constant as breathing.

“Eddie,” you said again.

“What is it, princess?” he smiled at your insistence. Not that he minded hearing his name on your lips over and over again. “What do you want, doll?”

“Kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The kiss was tentative, a press of lips on lips, barely lasting a few seconds, scoping it out, treading through undiscovered ground. Shy, and inexperienced. But as soon as you pulled away, all it took was the beat of a heart of looking into those big brown eyes for you to lunge back in, as if his lips were the air you needed to breathe, to keep you alive.

Your hands were holding onto the lapels of his jacket, holding him against you, and you were suddenly drunk on him. Frankly, it was slightly awkward, and frantic, bordering on desperate, but it was perfect, because it was Eddie you were kissing. You’d longed for it, longer than you cared to admit, like a silly high school girl, and you couldn’t quite believe it was finally happening.

It didn’t take long of his mouth moving against yours, his ring clad fingers on your cheek, for you to realize what that feeling burrowed in your chest was.

Love. It was love.

You were in love with Eddie. Madly, to a point where it was embarrassing just how obsessed you were with all that was him. His big brown puppy eyes, and the boyish smile, and his goofy persona, the one that flowed easily when he was comfortable and at ease. Because he was good, so good, and for the few minutes you were in his arms, he was yours.

He’d dived head first into your world, just as he’d showed you his, with no fear and no judgment and all the interest and the intent in the world. How were you supposed to not love him?

A low grumble tumbled out of his throat as your hand tangled in his mane of curls, pulling slightly, if anything, to get him as impossibly close to you as you could. His thumb was digging into the side of your face, just above your jaw, and you just hoped it would leave an imprint, just so it assured you later that all of it had actually happened.

You couldn't help it, you smiled into the kiss, a giggle inevitably escaping your mouth, making Eddie pull away. He studied you, his hands on your face as you laughed.

“What?” he laughed with you. “That bad, huh?”

You smirked, deciding to tease back, “Are we talking about the kiss or the dancing?”

“I hope neither,” he shook his head, a fake aggravated look on his face. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

“I don’t know,” you wondered. “Can we try again, just to make sure?”

“Wow. You're starting to sound like me. Take it back.”

You chuckled and smacked your lips against his, not letting him finish his soon-to-be self-deprecating banter, swallowing his surprised yelp instead. “Yeah, this is terrible,” he hummed into your mouth as you darted your tongue across his bottom lip, his hold getting tighter, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“It’s really bad,” you mumbled back.

“No good.”

You played with the hair at the back of his neck as his lips moved eagerly with yours, making him sigh softly into the kiss as you walked backwards, until the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed.

He hunched over you as you sat back, pulling away from the kiss to smile like two fools.

“You're doing it again!” You looked at him with a frown. “The tilted head thing. You better stop.”

His fingers held your face, squeezing your cheeks into a pout. “That means you want me to do it all the time?”

“That’s exactly what it means, my little dancer.” He placed a kiss on your naked collarbone, then your cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him into you, making him fall onto the bed next to you. You laughed quietly, your nose brushing against his stubbly cheek as you tried to hide your embarrassment at his sweet words. “I’m gonna kiss you if you don’t shut up.”

Not that you minded, but you guessed that feeling was never going to go away as long as you were by Eddie’s side. He would never fail to make you feel that way. It’s just who he was.

“Have I told you that I love it when you threaten me?” he said as you pinned him down to the bed, your mouth already on his, his hand on your lower back, slurring his words between your kisses. “So romantic.”

[hyungieyoongi]

See You

Pairing: Professor!Hobi x Professor!Reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers + fluff + angst + Hobi and Reader have some personality conflicts at work but should really just make out or something and stop acting like they dislike each other + this entire fic is inspired by Hobi’s look in that gum commercial I mean he screamed professor with that turtleneck and plaid blazer (thank you @moon-write​ for encouraging this vision)

Word Count: 3.2K+

---

“No, no, please tell me you’re joking,” you groaned, eyes scanning over the classroom assignment list posted on the faculty board in the hallway over again, hoping you were seeing things wrong. A third look at the paper confirmed that your fears had in fact come true – you and Hoseok were teaching next door to each other the entire fall semester.

Hoseok was the History of Dance Professor in your department. He was hired at the beginning of last year, three years into your career as one of the youngest faculty members in the Music & Arts program at your university. While he was bubbly and energetic, you were the more typical academic – down-to-earth, a little bit serious. He was beloved by his students for his positive personality and passion for teaching; you were well-regarded as being a natural talent who wanted to hone your students’ abilities.  

It wasn’t that your students didn’t like your course. No, it was well-reviewed and relatively popular considering it was an elective. But once Hoseok arrived, you felt like you were competing with the star of the program. Every student, even the ones who didn’t like dance, were lining up for his course, pushing your class and others into smaller classrooms with dwindling numbers. He, of course, got the large lecture hall this year.

He was the pain in your side, constantly flashing his bright smile to get his way in the department, dazzling your colleagues. Students would often be buzzing in the hallways about how they didn’t have to take an exam in Professor Jung’s class like they did in Professor Y/L/N’s. They got to go to a local show instead and analyze the dance performance. Hoseok was creative and intelligent – that much you could agree with – but you rolled your eyes every time you saw another one of his students attempt to flirt with him.

Hoseok and you figured out you got on each other’s nerves pretty quickly. He would always play music too loud in his office while you were grading papers – he timed how long it took you to show up at his door to tell him to turn it down every afternoon. You would make it a point to have your students play samples of their pieces they’d written on the piano while he was in the middle of a lecture, leaving your classroom doors open so the notes of the instrument would float down the hallway to the lecture hall. You’d have a satisfied grin on your face when you heard the telltale noise of the lecture hall doors slamming shut.

The entire department knew about this little game the two of you would play with each other, not to mention the sarcastic comments from you and teasing jokes from him that were on repeat any time you were in the same room. The bickering was bound to get worse with the two of you in such close quarters all semester.

“Y/N!” you heard a loud voice call down the hallway. You hadn’t heard that voice in two and a half months thanks to your summer vacation. You gritted your teeth, turning with a tight-lipped smile toward your least-favorite coworker.

“Hoseok,” you greeted with a nod. As usual, your semi-chilly behavior toward him didn’t faze him.

“Y/N, come on, I thought I told you to call me Hobi!” he said cheerfully, his eyes squinting from his smile. He was wearing a cream turtleneck tucked into his khakis, plaid blazer over his shoulders. He had dyed his hair from the black you were accustomed to, his strands now a platinum blonde. You realized, begrudgingly, that he looked more attractive than he did last year.

“Well would you look at that, we’re neighbors,” Hoseok said after scanning the list on the board.

“Try to keep the gaggle of screaming fans away from the hallway when I’m teaching, would you?” you said sarcastically. Hoseok’s hand flew to his heart, acting like you had personally attacked him.

“Y/N, I cannot believe you would accuse my students of being so frivolous,” he said dramatically. “Just because we have more fun in my class, doesn’t make it any less serious than yours.”

“Oh, please, save the theatrics for the students who signed up thinking your class would be an easy ‘A’. I know for a fact that you gave out four D’s last semester.” Hoseok’s eyes twinkled at your challenging tone.

“And how many did you give out, Professor Y/L/N?” Hoseok asked in a sweet voice.

“None, thank you very much. Since my students actually learn something in my class, I don’t have to give out such low grades,” you quipped. Hoseok chuckled, running a hand through his wavy blonde hair.

“Maybe I should sit in on one of your classes this year. Learn a thing or two,” Hoseok said, stepping toward you. You flushed momentarily at his low tone, immediately stepping back. He smirked at your reaction.

“It’s invite only to audit my class, Jung,” you said before turning on your heel to walk toward your office down the hall, “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m really not!” you yelled over your shoulder.

You heard Hoseok laugh, and you cursed yourself for giving him the satisfaction of knowing that his teasing had gotten to you.

You had promised yourself at the end of the summer not to play into it this year – you were going to be professional, courteous. But the first time you see Hoseok, bam, it goes right out the window. 

You would just have to avoid Hoseok as much as possible.

You sighed once you closed your office door behind you. It was going to be a long semester.

---

Two months into the semester, the leaves had turned to burnt oranges and red, signaling the return of fall. Hoseok was sitting in one of the auditorium seats, his legs crossed over each other, looking down at his fingers with a soft smile playing at his lips. The delicate notes of the piano were playing from your classroom, the noise piercing the thin walls separating your classroom from his.

His class had been dismissed half an hour ago, and, based on the lack of students having straggling conversations in the hallway, yours had, too. He often waited after he was done teaching to see if you would play when you thought no one was listening. The notes you played sometimes indicated your mood; the music was soft and flowing, other times dark and intense.

Today it was, melancholic? He couldn’t quite place it, but it made him think about the change in seasons. He wondered if that was on your mind. The song was fluid, making him want to choreograph a piece to it, the dancer’s body matching the tempo of the music. He shut his eyes, picturing the movements behind his closed lids.

He’d never admit that he indulged in this as often as he did – he knew you wouldn’t be playing if you found out he was your only audience member. You had been avoiding him this semester. He had tried all of his old tricks – the loud music during office hours, teasing comments during staff meetings. But you wouldn’t blink.

He opened his eyes, the song transitioning into something light and happy. It made him think of sunshine.  

---

You stopped playing, your hands lifting off the keys like they burned you. You had been playing mindlessly, your fingers starting to pluck away at the keys in the melody that you had thought of when you would think of Hoseok.

The more you avoided Hoseok, the more you seemed to miss his overly positive personality. You would see him at staff meetings, always giving you a big smile. One day you came in late after a meeting with a student ran long, and you came into the room to see that he had saved you a seat next to him, the last one left empty in the room. 

He was still playing his music too loud, but you had stopped bugging him about it, and you noticed that it was gradually getting quieter.

You closed the cover over the keys, willing the thoughts about Hoseok to go away, packing up your papers and laptop. He was just your annoyingly happy colleague; there was no reason he should be taking up this much space in your mind.

---

“Are you honestly suggesting that the music composition class shouldn’t be considered a prerequisite for all music program students going forward?” you questioned angrily. You and Hoseok were at a standoff in the department meeting, his normally pleasant features tense, arms crossed in front of him.

“If that means that it prevents funding from getting diverted from the dance program to the instrumental students, then, yes, that is what I’m suggesting,” Hoseok countered.

“That’s ridiculous! Music composition is a fundamental building block for all students – including dance, Jung!” your voice had risen, and the department head looked between you both, deciding that the meeting had gotten too out of hand to continue.

“Professor Y/L/N, Professor Jung – why don’t the two of you take a walk around the building, get some fresh air. The rest of you, dismissed. We’ll resume this conversation, civilly, next week,” the department head declared.  

You were fuming, angrily shoving your notebook and pen in your bag before storming out of the building. You felt someone else’s presence, and you turned, groaning when you saw the last person you wanted to see standing behind you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“Give it a rest, Jung, I’m not in the mood,” you said grumpily.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the bookstore to grab a coffee and put this behind us,” Hoseok scoffed, smile wiped away. “But, I guess not.”

“Not everyone wants to just roll over and play nice when you flash them a smile, Hoseok.”

“Well, not everyone wants to act like they have a superiority complex, either.”

Your lips pursed, hands beginning to fidget with how angry and upset his comment made you. The two of you had been annoying last year, sure, but you had never been mean to each other. Until today.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said quietly, heated tone still evident despite the low volume.

“The feeling is mutual,” Hoseok said harshly. “It’s not like you’ve even tried to get to know me. You immediately disliked me from day one. You never even gave me a chance!”

“That’s rich coming from you. All that shit with the music and the comments – it’s like you wanted me to dislike you,” you replied.

“I wanted you to talk to me, Y/N,” Hoseok said, exasperated. “Forget it, I can see now that it was useless to try.”

“I was trying to play nice this semester,” you said, glaring at Hoseok. “You came in like a damn bulldozer last year, disrupting everything in the department. And everyone just did what you wanted because you’re ‘mister nice guy’, and you make people laugh and people just think you’re perfect. Well, I don’t buy it.”

You took a deep breath, leveling your gaze at him.

“Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours,” your voice was stone-cold. Hoseok’s eyes flashed, lips in a thin line before he responded bitterly.

“Perfect.”

---

Things had been quiet between you and Hoseok since your fight outside of the building a few weeks ago. You politely nodded at each other in the hallway when you passed by, avoiding eye contact. You would grimace when you heard his laugh during lectures next door to yours, wanting to block the sound out.

You couldn’t get what he said to you out of your thoughts – you really didn’t know Hoseok very well. All you knew is what he presented to the rest of the world. He was bubbly and positive and optimistic; he probably thought you were just some brooding, academic stiff.

Hoseok noticed the songs you were playing lately were rather intense. Sometimes he would hear you smash against the keys like you were angry with the piano for not producing the sounds you wanted to hear.

He knew the feeling. He was spending more time in the dance studio lately, dancing aggressively to loud hip hop music, trying to drown out the frustration he was feeling at not being able to make you crack and talk to him.

That’s where he found himself tonight, trying to get rid of his stress. You were stubborn, but you were also beautiful, intelligent, passionate, tenacious. He turned his music up louder, drowning out the thoughts of you.

---

You had re-read the same sentence four times, red pen poised in your hand ready to edit the student’s paper. The loud beats were still audible from the practice rooms. It was late, and the building had been closed to students for the past two hours.

You decided to go down there. You weren’t going to get them in trouble for staying past close, but with finals coming up, you were sure the students needed a gentle reminder that sleeping was just as important as practicing.

You walked down the dark hallway, going down the steps to the practice rooms on the floor beneath the faculty offices, finding the one with the light on, music blaring through the glass panes separating the space from the hall.

You glanced into the room, seeing Hoseok dancing. You had never seen him in his element before, and it was captivating. He was wearing a black pair of sweats, an oversized yellow t-shirt adorning his slender frame. The music seemed to be moving through his body. He was grounded in the floor, an intense expression on his face as he hit heavy movements on the beat, fluidly moving through other parts depending on the music. You felt like this was personal, like you weren’t allowed to be watching, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

Hoseok looked into the mirror, his eyes looking toward the shadow in the hallway. His eyes met yours, his gaze burning into yours through the glass. You gulped.

He turned, grabbing a bottle of water and pausing the music. You figured that was your cue, opening the door to the studio and stepping inside.

“Was it too loud?” Hoseok asked, voice light despite the obvious tension in the room.

“No, it’s okay uh – I was grading papers, and I thought a student was still down here,” you explained softly. “I thought I’d tell them to go home, get some rest.”

Hoseok had a curious expression on his face. If he was surprised to hear why you were down here, he didn’t mention it. You felt the need to fill the silence, so you spouted the first thing that came to mind.

“You’re really talented, Hobi,” you said quickly. His eyebrows shot up at the sound of the nickname you never called him. “Hoseok – sorry, I meant Hoseok.”

“Watch out, people might think we’re friends,” Hoseok joked, but it came out strained.

“Hoseok – Hobi. I’m sorry about what I said a few weeks ago. I was heated, and I apologize,” you said, looking down at a scuff in the hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry, too. What I said was uncalled for, and I didn’t mean to upset you. Last year, this semester. Anything I’ve done that has made you mad or annoyed. I’m sorry,” Hobi said sincerely. “I-um, well…”

You looked up, waiting for him to continue.

“I just wanted your attention.”

“What?”

“I wanted your attention. I wanted you to want to talk to me. I wanted you to get to know me. Not the version of me that I show my students. I wanted you to see me. Really see me.”

You gulped, Hobi’s vulnerability making you nervous. He took a step toward you, and you willed yourself to stay in place.

“I know you do the same thing; you hide. Hide behind this persona you’ve created. I think it goes away when you play piano.”

“How do you–what do you mean?” you asked incredulously.

“I hear you play. After class. I never told you because I selfishly wanted to keep listening. Your music it – it tells a story. About your day, your feelings. If you didn’t tell me yourself, at least your music did.”

Your cheeks burned knowing that he was audience to all of the time spent in your classroom, working out your feelings on the piano like it was your therapy.

“Everything goes away when I play,” you stopped, thinking about how distracted you had been lately trying to compose. “Well, most of the time, anyway.”

“That’s how I feel when I dance,” Hobi admitted with a gentle smile. You nodded, realizing that the two of you had this in common, at least.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you said, backing away from Hobi toward the door.

“Wait –,” Hobi said, slightly flustered. “Dance with me.”

Your eyes widened. Hobi laughed, and you hated to admit that you had missed the sound.

“Come on, just trust me, Y/L/N.” You waited while he picked out a song, holding out his hand. You placed your fingers in his, and he pulled you close to him, leading you around the studio floor to the song. He made you feel light on your feet despite your lack of dance experience, his hand tightly gripping yours, his other floating over your waist. Your skin tingled from the contact.

He spun you around twice, your hands landing on his chest as you tried to regain your balance. You looked up at him, genuinely enjoying yourself. His bright smile you used to roll your eyes at lit up his features, causing your smile to match his.

“Can you see me now, Y/N?” Hobi asked, referencing his earlier confession. “Because I see you when you play. When you tell a student crying in your office that everything is going to be okay. And I see you now when you’re dancing with me like this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Remember when you said I didn’t know anything about you?” You nodded, recognizing his reference to your fight outside of the department building. “I don’t think that’s true. But I know there’s so much more to know. And I want to know everything.”

Hobi’s hand came up to your cheek, softly placing it on the side of your face.

“I want to know you, too, Hobi,” you whispered.

He leaned forward, his breath fanning over your lips, “Want to start now?”

You gripped his t-shirt in your hand, pulling him the last few inches to your lips instead of answering. You felt him smile against your lips, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him.

He pulled back, his forehead resting on yours as you caught your breath.

“Does this mean I can start playing my music loudly during office hours again?” Hobi teased, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater, brushing against your skin.

You made a face at him, causing him to laugh. He kissed you on the forehead, then on the lips again to make you smile before answering.

“Not a chance.”  

---

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[ggukkiereads]

Hii!! Can you please give recs for Hanahaki Disease AU?? I've been reading them lately and soo in love🥺 any member is okay, but with happy ending please, I can't handle angst🥺💔 thankyou so much love!!💞💞

🌷 Hello, anons! I love Hanahaki AUs too 🥰. As requested, I didn’t include those with sad or ambiguous endings.  Anon #2, I don’t remember a lot of Yoongi-centric Hanahaki series (more on drabbles) but you’ll find some listed here:

Hanahaki AUs 

Blue Orchids @inktae - Jungkook | one shot + drabbles 1 & 2 (Home After Rain) | soulmate AU | Angst, Fluff, implied S

This is one of my favorite fics 💕. I think I have shared multiple times how much I love the author’s writing. Words just flow beautifully and poetically, so please check their other fics too! Blue Orchids is a great soulmate + hanahaki au combo and I’ve raved about it here 🌷 (click the tulip if you’re the type that read comments to help you get started)

The Truth Between Us @jimlingss @gukyi  - Yoongi | series [7/7] | multi-verse, co-worker au, enemies to lovers, editor au, writer au | F, A

Another staple in my recommendations list. I just love this series so much! It’s actually a multiverse - the characters go through different universes and Hanahaki is just one of these AUs. A MUST READ. 🌷

Note: Kina wrote Lovesick (Jin x YN x Jimin) too which has similar hanahaki au vibes

Picking Flowers (KTH) @jamaisjoons - Taehyung | one shot, 40k | florist!taehyung x botanist!reader, bestfriends AU | A, F, S

I haven’t written about it here in ggukkiereads but this is one of my favorites too. I just love their friendship plus the world of flowers is just fascinating. The small town they’re in and the flower festivals - the backdrop made the story cozy and lovely despite the story being centered on angst. It is a lovely story about second chances =)

Take a Chance @crystaljins - Jungkook | series [7/7] | coworker AU, business partners | A, F

Great relationship development; I mentioned here 🌷 that I enjoyed the emotional journey the most (like overcoming grief, falling for that person, etc). I think it’s amazing when writers can dissect these emotions and make you wholly understand what the characters are going through. 

Strain @evangelene - Taehyung | series [5/5] | college AU, strangers to lovers, sort of (one-sided) enemies to lovers | A, F

This has a different take on Hanahaki AUs. It’s like a disease you can inherit? And there are different strains or types of flowers (some flowers are less deadly and there are “killer” flowers). They have different ways of reacting to this, OC shutting people off while Taehyung is more head on.

The Chrysanthemum Effect @rosaetae - Taehyung | series [11/11] model!taehyung x wedding planner | A, F

I love the author and her way of laying out scenes and dialogues that build tension and angst. I remember how tensed it was, being halfway through the series and still we don’t know what happened between the characters. I was also as invested in the side characters’ story (Jungkook x named OC). 

It’s You @itsamejin - Taehyung | two shot | college au, fuckboy au | A, F

I have to be honest though, I low key shipped OC with Jungkook! LOL I thought there was going to be some plot twist or something. It’s still a happy ending though

Lilac Lungs @softlyjiminie - Taehyung | one shot, 7k | art director au, coworker au, friends-with-benefits au, enemies to lovers | S, A, F

I guess this is different because it started with a more smutty tone, when usually hanahaki aus have this melancholic vibe. It ends well so this is also a good read

Bloom + Sequel  @/jamaisjoons - Jimin | two shot | idolverse | A, F

If you’re new to Hanahaki, I think this is a great place to start because it shows the “steps” of the disease

Blossom @iamjungkooked - Jungkook | drabble-ish, 2.8k | friends to lovers | A, F

reminds me of Eternal Sunshine (the film) but this has a lighter tone to it

Petals @hayjeon - Hoseok | one shot, 4k | unrequited love, hoseok getting married to someone else, feat bestfriend!jungkook | A, F, S

this is happy ending for them but not for others (haha hard to explain but you have to read it to get what I mean)

2 Years of Lost Time @kpopisthereasonihavenolife - Jungkook | one shot, 5.9k | strangers to bestfriends, idol!jk | A, F

Como la Flor @dragunjk - Yoongi | one shot, 5.5k | music major Yoongi x creative writing major!reader | A, F (ending is a hopeful one even if slightly vague)

Yoongi Hanahaki AU @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng - Yoongi | drabble | bestfriend AU | A, F

No Feelings @joonhaze  - Yoongi | one shot | enemies to lovers, fwb au (is it a happy ending? Yes, I think so! Staying and choosing each other is a happy ending to me)

Bloom @guksthighs -  Yoongi | drabble | bestfriend AU | A, F

Dead Roses @/guksthighs - Namjoon | drabble | idolverse, established rel (they’re like dating but no confessions of love) | A, F

@emoboijk Flora and Fauna Series

Hydrangea - Jimin  not a happy ending

Tulips - Seokjin 

Calla Lilies - Jungkook

Roses - Yoongi

Carnations- Hoseok

Daffodils - Taehyung 

I realized there’s a lot of Taehyung Hanahaki AUs (okay what’s up with that 😁). 

There’s a fic I really like, My Last Breath by yourdelights but they deactivated. They mentioned about reposting fics on AO3 eventually, so this is something to watch out for.

Again, credits go to these authors for breaking our hearts and mending them with this fascinating AU. Thank you dear authors for sharing these fics! 🥰

 Please show these authors love by reblogging their fics, giving them feedback, and engaging in any positive interaction you can think of! 🥰

[kkaeyva]

april 30th.

𐐪𐑂 summary: diluc can’t help but think back to his 18th birthday.

𐐪𐑂 note: repost bc this wasn’t showing up in tags ;’) happy late birthday diluc!! loved your letter, now please come home soon <3

𐐪𐑂 includes: diluc

𐐪𐑂 genre(s): fluff(???), reader comforts diluc

𐐪𐑂 warning(s): not mentioned within the text, but the context revolves around what happened on his 18th birthday in the genshin impact webcomic?? um,, spoilers for that if you count it? i guess you could read it even if you haven’t read the webcomic.

𐐪𐑂 word count: 0.4k (a tiny one)

you find him hunched over his dresser, staring dull daggers into the mirror. you know what this day means to him; you can see it in his solemn look, how his eyes don’t glow as much as they did the day before. you heard it this morning, too, how his tone seems more stern than usual.

his earlier attitude greatly contrasts the small flame you see now. the one staring at himself in the mirror, as if this is a dream. as if he’ll wake up from a nightmare soon, and it’ll all be okay.

the maids have baked a glamorous cake and the decorations have been set up— there have already been a few visitors to the manor that left presents and gifts for him.

but nonetheless, it doesn’t change the fact that today is not a happy day. not for diluc.

and when you stride over to him and caress his face (pale and forlorn), he leans into your touch like it’s his lifeline. his flame-touched hair curls neatly around his face, framing it like that one melancholic painting you pass by every time you walk through the hall.

“i love you,” you whisper, but he closes his eyes before you finish. he doesn’t see your heartbroken face— he doesn’t want your pity, nor anyone else’s. (but it’s so comforting.)

you wait until the room fills with silence again before you speak up one more time; “we don’t have to go downstairs if you don’t want to,” a breath, and, “i will stay here until you’re ready.”

he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, a safe haven hidden away from the world. judging by the way he gives your side three squeezes— meaning ‘i love you’— you understand his wordless wishes.

“don’t worry,” you smile solemnly as you brush your fingers through his hair, murmuring, “i’m not going anywhere.”

and you hold him in that quiet, dimly lit room. you hold him until he brings his head up to look at you with those tired, monochrome eyes that just barely whisper a ‘thank you for staying with me.’

and so, you continue holding him, arms embrace his figure (patiently, never letting go as if to tell him you are still there.)

he presses a kiss against the corner of your lips, gentle and apologetic.

diluc appreciates everything you do for him— everything you give to him, he will cherish. and he returns the favour by taking off his mask, showing all sides of himself to you.

[shotosprincess]

what if... — shoto todoroki

“ what if we kissed then? just to prove that we don’t have feelings for each other. “

summary: ever since you and todoroki started working together as pro heroes, your friends simply wouldn’t let up on teasing you two, suspecting that there was something between you—something that extended past the bounds of business.

notes: fluff ,, todoroki being flustered ( aaaa he’s so cute bye ) the bakusquad teasing and egging ya’ll on ( their dialogue is color coded so it’s easier to read ! ) ,, denki being a little bit of a busybody <3

“ ooooh look who it is! the power coupleeee! “ the sing-song tone of denki’s teasing rung through the hall as he spotted you and todoroki entering the building from a long day of pro hero work.

grey streaks of dust and ash littered your bodies, streaks of sweat and diluted stripes of dried crimson staining multiple sides on both your faces. his hair was tattered and slightly singed from the discord of an especially-messy battle, yours was tangled in a hopeless mess. a heavy sigh leaves you. that would be a pain to brush through later.

your numbed fingers, body exhausted and worn out, run through your hair in a wordless frustration. shoto tenses up noticeably at denki’s playful comment. “ denki. we’re not a couple. “

his lips raise into a cheeky, if not mildly-irritating smirk as he leans further into the velvet couch, draping his arms round the back. “ oh yeah? take your arm off their shoulder then, shoto. “

your partner’s face lights up with a rose so brilliant, it almost even matched with the rubied strands of his hair. his lips tightly purse together, sliding his arm, which was, in fact, casually resting on your shoulder, off with a hurried swoop.

“ shut it, kaminari. “ he huffs in a low, almost even threatening tone as he walks past the energetic blonde at an increased pace. you frown. he seemed so worked up over it, and for what? it’s not as if this was the first time someone had poked at you for being a “ couple “—which you were not, but you were never the one to readily disprove their remarks, though delivered in a joking manner. it’s not as if you felt anything of the sort for him...right?

so then why was it so hard to admit that you weren’t anything more than what you were on the field? it was the truth, after all.

“ jeez, what’s with him? i was just kidding. “ sticking a lollipop into his mouth, he turns to lay down fully on the couch, stretching his back out with such leisure.

your eyes followed him as he disappeared past a corner, shaking your head in confusion. “ no clue. “

it was just one of the countless circumstances in which people had poked at the two of you for your not-so-platonic habits with one another, habits which, admittedly, hinted at something...more than friendship. more than a partnership. this was nothing new.

but of course, you pushed it all away, allowing the rumours and silly hashtags and fanmade edits and youtube compilations to completely ricochet off of you. however, the same couldn’t exactly be said for todoroki. shame.

you didn’t quite know why, but he always got so unexplainably tense about it whenever someone brought the topic up. he’d curl up his fists so aggressively it’d leave crescent marks the next day, rearrange his face into a scowl—it was clear that he hated it, joke or not. honestly, you didn’t have the guts to attempt to make them stop, for you knew that if you had, you just knew that the public would somehow find a way to turn it into “ proof “ that you were dating, all because he got so riled up and flustered. which was silly, really, since it was a perfectly normal human reaction to something like this.

though you can’t help but wonder if, perhaps, he did feel that way about you, and maybe that was the reason he—

no, no, what were you thinking? he couldn’t possibly...right? you were just partners. nothing more, nothing less.

but if he did think of you like that, would you want something more?

“ oh come on, just admit it! if not to the public, then to us at least. aren’t we friends? “

“ yeah, icy hot. i mean, seriously, have more guts— “

“ ...how many fucking times do i have to tell you, bakugou...we’re not a couple. denki, stop playing around. you’re egging him on. “ shoto’s harsh tone cuts sharply through the banter between denki and the overly-intense ashen blonde, bringing it to an abrupt end. it didn’t exactly last very long, though.

“ yeah, yeah. that’s what i said about that dumbass deku, and look where we are now. “ he rasps, a knowing smirk playing on his face as he pulls his now-blushing boyfriend close.

“ not everything is about love, bakugou. “ he smirks.

“ yeah, who knew you’d be the one to turn out to be such a romantic? “ denki laughs, earning a solid punch to his arm.

“ owww! that actually hurt. “ his lips jut out in a pout, rubbing over the blooming patch of light purple.

“ oh, shut up, idiot! “

“ you know what? fine. y/n? “

you pause, perfectly still and unmoving as the coldness of his eyes burned his unknown intent into you.

“ y-yeah? “

he strides over to you, appearing only inches away within the briefest of seconds. one of his hands quickly finds a home against your cheek, tilting it to look up at him. your heart pulsates at a nearly impossible rate.

“ kiss me. “

“ what? “

“ just this once. to prove that we don’t have feelings for each other. “ he says, rolling his eyes at denki and bakugou, who were futilely trying to cover their smirks.

heat rises to your cheeks, cauterizing them with an unfamiliar flame. “ oh! uh! i—sure.“

what other choice did you have? after all, you did want to prove to everyone that there really was nothing between you and shoto. or maybe, just maybe, you were also trying to prove it to yourself?

no, no. that couldn’t be. it couldn’t.

he wastes no time. his skin, cold and smooth, fingers like porcelain streams, grasp your chin with a fast-paced elegance which sends a prominent shudder down your back. his lips hover just above yours, and the tension buzzing between you is ridiculously electric. he’s so close, your heartbeat rings in your ears and his breath shallowly fans upon your face as he peers into your eyes with his own. you allow them to fall closed.

as if on cue, his lips meet yours with a gentle, albeit fairly aggressive peck. but as soon as they do, your chest spurns with the fibres of your heartstrings, embroidering them tightly into the knots of his own tangled past. you know what he said. you know what you said—it was all to prove that you didn’t feel anything for one another.

but then why did it feel so oddly...right?

he pulls away, and your lips suddenly feel empty, deserted. the electric thrum still prickles at your lips, wanting, no—needing, more. you hate how much your body craved him, how desperately you wanted for his arms around you again. there’s too much emotion, an overwhelming influx. it is near impossible to even articulate it, at least not in a way which could ever hope to properly encapsulate the undeniable magic of the moment. you were being so damn melancholic, and that was saying something, even for you.

when his lips leave yours, you cannot help but be frozen in your simple state of bliss, utterly dazed with hazy remnants of how annoyingly addicting it was. your eyes gloss over with a sense of want, sparkling with the same glitters his icy eyes met yours with. his hand remains on your cheek, but his touch softens against yours.

your silent stare prolongs for more than just the fleeting moment, as if you were subconsciously grabbing at it with invisible arms, reaching desperately to bring each other back. that was when it hit you; the blinding realization that you did, in fact, want this. want him. and yet, you couldn’t help but hesitate. what about him? did he want this? no, no, he couldn’t possibly. after all, this whole kiss situation was only because he wanted to prove that explosive idiot wrong, that there was nothing between you two but teamwork and good quirk compatibility.

your heart stings at the minor epiphany, the thoughts piercing at your head in an endless swirl of emotions. second-guessing yourself, wondering why you even cared whether or not he thought of you that way. or at least, how he didn’t think of you that way. the tiniest shine of a tear begins to coat your lashes when—

his lips crash against yours for a second time, his hand now trailing towards your scalp, weaving through the fibres as his lips danced upon yours. your guard, your hesitation fully melting away in his arms.

but alas, you made the mistake of allowing yourself to forget that people were watching too.

“ ha! i knew it! i fucking knew it! “ kaminari’s playful voice rings like the most annoying song ( in this moment, i mean come on, you loved the guy, but right now? not exactly helping your stance of “ we don’t see each other like that “ ) as his head peaks out from the halls.

instantly you break away, pulling from each other as your hand flies to clamp over your mouth, eyes bulging wide at what you had just done. you had just kissed shoto. in front of, well, practically everyone! since when did mina and kirishima even get here?!

“ shit. “ shoto mutters deeply, thrashing his hands into his two-toned hair in frustration.

“ shoto, i—i’m so sorry, i didn’t know they would— “

“ no, no. don’t apologize. it’s my fault. i...i shouldn’t have gone for a second ki— “

“ honestly, i think i would’ve been more mad at you if you haven’t. “

“ WHAT?! “ your little audience shrieked. your palms clasped right over your mouth after the admission, face burning with embarrassment. the words left you before you could even think them through. had you really just said that? in front of everyone? how carefree can you be?

you stare into the ground, focusing on literally anything but him.

“ hey. look at me. “

you refused.

“ y/n. “ his hand goes up to your chin, making you look up at him. the pout on your face is so plainly obvious, it makes his heart twitch in a slight pain. you could almost swear you heard mina squeal faintly at the boldness of his action, considering the predicament you two were currently stuck in.

“ what? “

“ i...i think i would’ve regretted it more if i hadn’t kissed you again. “

“ you—what? “

“ i...i didn’t want to pull away. “

“ holy shit. “

“ shut up bakugou! “

“ i wanted...i wanted it to last a little longer. “

“ jeez, and i thought i was bad at confessing my feelings. pft. this is just embarrassing to watch. “

“ same here. i mean you did ask midoriya out by yelling ‘ i love you, dumbass! ‘ from outside his dorm window. “

“ hey, idiot! we don’t talk about that! “

“ shhhh both of you! shut up! we are witnessing an important romantic moment here! “

“ i...seriously? “

“ seriously. and i—i don’t know what the hell this feeling....is. but i....i just— “

“ it’s okay. “ you shoot him a reassuring smile, the same kind you always did in the midst of battle, that comforting smile that let him know you had his back. you communicated with your eyes, though usually they were bloodshot with adrenaline and smudged with ash, there truly was no need for words. not with him.

“ y/n...i— “

“ awwwww aren’t they the cutest? now kiss again! “

“ mina. “ he shoots her a lightly cold stare.

“oh come on! let us have our fun, yeah, icy hot? “ bakugou slings his arm over kaminari’s shoulder, whose grin matches that of his blonde-haired counterpart.

“ i thought i told you not to call me— “

“ shoto. “

he immediately turns to you, slipping into serenity at the sound of your voice.

“ ah shit, here they go again. we get it, you’re a cute couple! “

“ mina, i told you. we’re not a co- “ his eyes snap to yours, lips parting in a hesitant pause.

“ not a what, icy hot? “ the smirk exuding of utter smugness upon bakugou’s face only spreads all the wider.

he allows his hands to fall, taking yours within his. there is a brief, yet definite moment of silence before he speaks again. “ i mean... “

your gaze is focused on the way his hands fully envelope yours, and the unexplainable, tingly feeling you’re getting from it all. despite that, you could still very well see mina and kaminari excitedly waving and bouncing in all sorts of directions, as if they were...cheering you on? it was almost as if they were more fired up about all this than you were.

keyword; almost.

“ shoto, i— “

and suddenly his composure and poise breaks, and all that’s left is the rare sight of shoto todoroki, stuttered in a blushing, shaky mess. “ i mean, i wouldn’t be opposed to it. not—not like i desperately want to or anything, but at the same time i—i just—fuck, why is this so har— “

you rise onto your tip toes, hands encircling his neck as you kiss him. what unknown spirit possessed you with the guts to make the first move, it was fully unbeknownst to you. but you weren’t complaining, no. not in the slightest.

“ HOLY SHIT?? “

“ my baby’s all grown up now— “

“ dumbass, they’re not your bab— “

“ they’re mine. “

“ i— “

“ that is, if you want to b— “

“ well no shit, dumbass! “ you jump into his arms, squealing as you squeeze him tight.

“ good. because...so do i. “

“ i told you! “

“ shut up idiot! “

“ hey, so now can we start a fan account for you two on instagram? i’m sure it’d totally blow up! “ mina squealed with a wink, holding up her phone, already halfway through the sign up process.

“ mina! “ everyone groaned in a laughter-filled unison.

so that was it, you supposed.

you did have feelings for each other.

[siriusmydeer]

you said ideas for james potter fluff? i have one!! what if your on your period and you like bleed on the bed or something like that and he helps you clean up and is like p”periods are normal when your upset?

his favourite person

james potter x fem!reader

summary: james comforts you on your period.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: period cramps, swearing, kissing, mentions of dying/funerals, pet names, insecurity, mentions of migraines, mentions of razors and injury, mentions of hostility

a/n: so i has to modify this in a way i could write it but i hope you like it !!

the searing burn of agony was beginning to broil in the pit of your belly whilst you had shifted your tensed legs to be clutched in front of your abdomen. the hues of orange spilt from the corners of your lilac curtains as a siren that the day had officially begun, meanwhile the school would be swarming with boisterous and inconsiderate students of their classmate's preferences.

you audibly groaned now breaking the peaceful morning silence, suddenly shoving your hand in your viewpoint before the blaring lights could potentially give you a migraine from the fluoresce light; as well as your stomach could barely endure the swirling affliction that only uplifted as you began to awaken from your blissful as well as pain spared snooze of dreams about treacle tarts and winning the house cup.

every time you gulped it felt like razors were being trapped in the cavern of your throat, anytime you shifted your body beneath your blankets it felt like you were walking a tightrope that had snapped and you had fallen into a pit of sharp rocks that were shaped in fury. you had felt every minuscule amount of pain in your muscles that only to continue as you laid atop of your mattress.

you sighed whilst fluttering your eyelids a few times before haphazardly opening the small drawer that was placed beside your bed, glimpsing beneath your fingers at the empty box of tampons that had been used up from yesterday and you foolishly forgot to refill. you groaned yet again, your motivation ceasing from your body to trudge over to the healer's wing for another box.

amid your mind rant over the first inconvenience of the day the door of your dormitory that mildly creaked due to the ageing hinges from decades ago. auburn hair suddenly cascading in your viewpoint and aquamarine irises staring at you once your hand had been removed from your eyes due to her manipulation.

“lily, are you alright?” you inquired with a tinge of sarcasm lingering in your voice, a small teasing crease in your brow as her face remained to hover over your own. she proceeded to press a small kiss to your temple and swiped some of your mangled tuffs away from your searing cheeks.

“how’re you feeling?” she inquired in a murmur, trying to leave the tranquillity scorning through the air due to the peaceful atmosphere that remained through the night to the early hours of the morning.

“like shit.”

“i assumed, not coming to classes?” she inquired again with a sigh, glancing over your nightstand that was piled with transfiguration homework, a burnt-out candle with wax spilt onto the wooden stand that she would have to scrape off later due to your melancholic mood mixed with your fatigue, and a tea that had been finished more than likely a few days ago that you hadn’t put away in the kitchens yet.

“no, ‘m dying. give me a nice eulogy, love.” you ridiculed with a smirk as your hand moved back to your eyes whilst the natural ivory daylight only began filtering through your dormitory and seeped through the curtains.

“i’ll bring you something after lunch.” she finished with a small kiss on your forehead and the doors creaking yet again as a signal she had left and you were alone yet again with another attempt to sleep away the antagonizing churn of torture coiling in your belly.

as she had trudged off to the gryffindor towers she had run into a familiar bespectacled boy that looked like he had walked into the wrong store after losing his parents as a young boy, his irises moving erratically as well while his hands were anxiously gliding through the familiar brunet tuffs he was almost illustrious for.

as he caught sight of the ginger he began to haul the strap of his nap sack over the burly muscles of his shoulder and strode over to her hastily. his eyes remained searching around the ivory corridors for your house colours in case you were mixed amongst the bunch of students.

“you alright, james?”

he covered his mouth to quickly cough into his fist before he spoke, “yeah, yeah, fine. have you seen y/n? she doesn’t normally miss class.” he articulated with a pronounced frown following a creased brow as he spoke moving his hand around animatedly.

lily’s face began to contort into a rather shocked expression at his surprised demeanour. she scratched the nape of her neck a few times before answering his oblivious question, “yeah, just, erm, lady problems. she’s in her dorm if you wanna see her. but she may be hostile.” she warned with a grin before sauntering off to transfiguration to give professor mcgonagall knowledge and reason of your absence.

“lady problems?” he murmured to himself in evident incertitude. if someone had turned the corner they would’ve blatantly assumed the quidditch captain had gone mad talking to himself rather than figuring out what the gryffindor girl had meant.

did she mean—?

without a second blip of thought, the bespectacled boy opted to skip his classes and rather find out what ‘lady problems’ lily had been rambling about. he trudged to where your common room had remained, and removed the charm on the stairs that had kept males away from entering female dormitories.

he knocked rather harshly without a thought of consideration, hearing a groan emit from the other side. his brow corrugated in a simian frown, only more evident in his features as he pushed open the door steadily. he heard the creaking in the hinges— almost like it was a small bell ringing every time someone had emerged from the other side.

his eyes swooped over the crevices of the room, the small pile of clothes that was spewed out on a chair with creasing forming in them, your school bag is thrown at the side of your bed with textbooks and ink pots spilling onto the floor as well as your bed comforter tremendously crumpled and piled over your silhouette as well as your head.

“darling?” he whispered. his footsteps light on the wood floor as he strode closer. he heard a little ‘mhm’ murmur out underneath the blankets whilst he moved near the four-poster bed.

“‘m guessing lily told you.”

“yeah, lily told me.”

“go away, i’m embarrassed enough as it is.” you began to articulate sternly. your head popping out from under the covers to narrow your eyes into a cerulean pool of blue. his face twisted into shambles of perplexity at your abnormal request of his absence when usually you enjoyed his company regularly.

“why? it’s like— normal.” he questioned with a confused scowl, he continued, a scrambling amount of letters forming in his mind as a way to comfort you as best as he knew. “because, you're a girl. and girls go through all that stuff.” he continued while placing himself on the side of your bed. your brows formed a subtle crease at his regard for your rather agitated and embarrassed state.

you deliberated for a few seconds, opting to pull down the covers of the opposite side of your bed allowing the boy to remove his shoes along with his slacks that hastily fell to the ground and climb next to you as you slowly shifted due to the tensing of your muscles.

“do you want me to grab you anything, m’love.” he murmured into your clothed shoulder, a tender kiss following in its wake. you closed your eyes, your view completely diminishing whilst relishing in the feeling of his mellow torso completely melding into your own like a personal heater that happened to be your cuddler of a boyfriend.

“yeah, but not right now.”

he nodded into your neck, his arms slowly capturing your midriff in a warming clutch. his left palm splaying against your lower abdomen, the balmy touch dissolving into the tense muscles of your belly— pushing you into moderate peace after the comparatively antagonizing morning you had endured.

it was silent for a few minutes, both of you completely cherishing the silence and peace among the both of you. his slight respires fanning over your neck while his hand stayed intact with your lower abdomen. “i don’t want you to be embarrassed when something like this happens. you’re my girl, i don’t want you to hide from me.”

“‘m sorry i just get so— upset and angry, i didn’t want you to think i was annoying or something.” you murmured back demeaningly with a faint sniff, the slight play of guilt on your sensorium building at your sensitive demeans of the week following your mood fluctuations, feeling as if you’ve ignored someone who cares for you. “no need to be sorry,” he began, kissing against the pulse point of your neck, “could never think my favourite person is annoying.”

“‘m not sirius.”

“no offense to sirius, but he’s not m’favourite person.”

“hmm, so s’me?” a smirk began to graze your lips at his dulcet demeanour, most likely because you had been a wretched mess of mood swings like a seesaw going back and forth since the crack of dawn. he nodded bashfully into the confined space of your shoulder. “‘m honoured, jamie.”

he chuckled once before faintly squeezing your upper midriff once more, attempting to completely avoid your lower belly in efforts to soothe you from the writhing pain he had never been accustomed to but he would siphon every single last bit if he could.

“you should be, ‘m the muscular, sexy, hot quidditch captain.” he mused with a grin quirking on his lips at the fact you were beginning to recuperate at his affections.

cocky beautiful bastard.

taglist: @kittykylax @ronbrokemyheart @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @msmb @five-cups-of-coffee @emmaev @serenitywilderness @artemis1orion @miss-starkov @siriusbarnesslut @inglourious-imagines @i-love-scott-mccall @emmaev @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @slytherclawbitch @90steaology

[thefanficmonster]

Deep Breaths

Valkyrae x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Panic Attack, Mentions of past domestic abuse, Mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, Swearing

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst to Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having received a call from the correctional facility where their alcoholic/drug addict mother is being kept, Y/N gets some intense nightmarish flashbacks to a time that still haunts them despite a decade having passed. Luckily their girlfriend Rae is there to comfort therm.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request, I hope I captured what you wanted to read! Sorry it has taken me so long to complete and post the fic, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Love, Vy ❤

“Hey Y/N, I-“ One step in the living room and that’s all it took for Rae to pick up on the melancholic mood in the room. 

Her partner hasn’t even noticed she’s entered. Instead, they are sitting hunched over on the couch, elbows on knees, hand seeking their hands’ support to stay upright and their eyes hiding a thousand yard stare that’s got Rae worried sick.

“Babe, what’s wrong?“ She asks softly, inching closer to the couch to take a seat next to Y/N, “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?“

Through the fog surrounding their brain, they somehow manage to catch onto Rae’s words, forcing themself to give her at least a nod in response as to not scare her with their unresponsiveness. They can’t bring themselves to speak, it’s too hard on them to even think of what to say let alone spit it out, especially when their chest feels like it’s caught fire and their mind is still going haywire, heartbeat thumping in their ears as the adrenaline rush refuses to cease.

“Hey, look at me...“ Instead of sitting down, Rae ducks down in front of Y/N, taking their hands in hers, almost wincing at how cold they were. “Tell me what’s bothering you, baby.“

The girl is trying her best not to freak out or lose her cool, despite her already quickened heartbeat she can hear in her ears. She has every right to be reacting the way she is. Her permanently happy, bubbly, optimistic and cheerful partner who always seems to be as energized as though they’d just had a gallon of coffee is now a pale ghost sitting statue-still, staring off into the void with eyes that look empty yet terrified simultaneously.

Y/N’s mouth falls open as though they want to say something but the words die out somewhere along the way, refusing to leave their mouth and give them the relief of sharing their pain with the only person they trust limitlessly.  “I-...“ They finally manage to find their voice though their gaze is still avoiding hers, “I got a call from the correctional facility where....” They trail off, a bitter taste forming in their mouth, making their stomach turn and bite the inside of their cheek as they feel the urge to throw up start to become unbearable. “She wants to s-see me...”

They don’t need to say anything else, Rae’s already connected the dots and her complexion has gone just as pale as theirs. She knows how sensitive and triggering this topic is for Y/N, how many bad memories are tied to this one person in their life. To make matters worse, they’re the one person who was supposed to take care of them yet she couldn’t even take care of herself - Y/N’s mother.

Rae distinctly remembers the night Y/N told her the truth about their family life - or the lack thereof - almost a year since the two had started dating. Rae never questioned their secretiveness and respected their privacy enough not to ask about it, patiently waiting for them to tell her on their own time and own terms. It was no secret even from the very start that Y/N had a very hard time connecting to people and trusting them. It took them maybe two or so months to be able to call their now-girlfriend a friend instead of an acquaintance. Rae didn’t question that too, didn’t push to pursue a friendship with them since, from her point of view, they were already her friend, so she patiently waited for them to come around and start trusting her enough to accept her within their tightknit circle of trusted people called ‘friends’. 

Things progressed from purely platonic to sweetly romantic a little more quickly which pleasantly surprised Rae. The two were quick to grow to be inseparable though that didn’t mean Y/N gave up all their secrets. The darkest one, which happens to be this one regarding their mother, is the one they hid the longest and the last one they had to share with their girlfriend.  The night they did tell it was a very emotional one: plenty of tears were shed by both Y/N and Rae but luckily they had each other’s embrace to seek comfort in and protect themselves from the ghosts and demons of a past Y/N spent so much time running away from.

An abusive parent is not a bit of baggage you can just get rid of. It’s something that weighs so heavy on you and is such a big part of who you are that you can feel it as a part of you. It haunts you no matter how much you try to run or hide. It’s not something you can shake off or forget. You might have physical and visible scars from the time spent with said parent or the trauma can be entirely psychological - regardless, it lives within you. Follows you around, raises questions you’re not sure you want answered, degrades you - making it seem like what happened was your fault in one way or another - it destroys you slowly very time something triggers a memory of that time, be it a simple conversation that has nothing to do with the subject or be it the glimpse you accidentally catch in the mirror of a scar on your body - a scar you remember being inflicted on you like it was yesterday.

That’s how Y/N’s been living. Feeling responsible, feeling unloved, feeling chained to their past. They’ve done all in their power to appear unbothered and let it be visible, not even when around Rae since they don’t want to worry her.

But seeing as their past has caught up to them now and they inevitably have to face it, they’re forced to let it show, they couldn’t hold it in even if they tried. Although they don’t wanna play the unbothered, unfazed part any longer. They have been strong on their own for far too long and it’s taken a toll on them. If they keep up with the act, they’ll be completely and utterly crushed.

Not that they’re feeling any better at the moment.

“Stay with me, Y/N. Stay with me. Keep your eyes on me, ok? Take deep breaths. Deep breaths, baby. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. It’s ok. You’re ok.“ Their short-circuiting brain has been spasming under the influence of the adrenaline, anxiety and panic brought on by the memories of every time they felt small and helpless while at the merciless hand of their alcoholic, drug addict abusive mother, begging to be spared the pain of being hit with whatever object the deranged woman could get her hands on - yet somehow, Rae’s voice still reaches them through all that messy dark fog. “Come on, Y/N, stay with me ok? Please don’t do this, I’m right here, there’s no need to be afraid,”

“I...“ they can barely hear their own voice over the racing of their heart, “I don’t...I don’t wanna go....“ is all they manage to say, a tear falling from their eye.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to go. We won’t go. Your mental health is the most important thing here, Y/N. We’re not going and that’s final.“ Rae replies vigorously, tightening her hold on Y/N’s hands.

Despite the state they’re in, Y/N can’t help but take notice of the use of the word ‘we’, Rae’s reminder that they are not alone, that she’s there for them and will not let them go into this alone. That brings a small smile to their face, calming their heart and panic ever so slightly, “N-no, I have to. It...it’ll help me.” They sigh before attempting to express themself again, “It’ll give me...closure, I guess.”

Seeing that Y/N’s doing a bit better, Rae’s hand move to cup their face instead, pushing the stray strands of hair away for their features to be full exposed to her, especially their eyes, “Are you sure you want that? Can you handle it? It’s not supposed to be your obligation, Y/N. I mean, the woman’s a monster and she hasn’t even thought to contact you in half a decade, and now she suddenly wants to get back in contact? She has the audacity to disturb you after all this time? You don’t have to agree to this, Y/N.”

Y/N shakes their head, “No, no, I want to. I want to agree to this. I want to live a normal life, Rae. I want to leave her and all she did to me behind. And I can’t do that if I keep running away. What happens when I stop to catch my breath? It still catches up to me like I made no progress whatsoever. That’s not a way to live, not the way I wanna live, at least.”

Rae nods slowly, fully understanding what Y/N is referring to. She maybe hasn’t said anything about it ever, but she’s always seen that little bit of darkness behind the happiness and excitement Y/N always displayed. Rae’s heart ached every time she caught glimpse of those little signs Y/N was putting on a performance while actually hurting on the inside. 

And if a meeting with their mother was what would help them finally fully embrace a happy life, then who was she to stop them.

“Ok.“ The girl sighs, “Ok, we’ll go see her, but only if you’re 100% sure you’ll be able to handle it.“

They shake their head again, sighing with unease, “I can never be 100% sure, my emotions have a tendency of being unpredictable so I’ll just have to pray I don’t have a breakdown or a panic attack.”

Rae swipes her thumb over their cheekbone wiping the tear that just escaped their eye, “If you do, don’t worry, I’ll be right there. You know the drill: squeeze my hand, take deep breaths and most importantly, don’t forget I’m there for you. Ok?”

Y/N nods their head, the small smile reappearing on their face. They squeeze Rae’s hand and take a long inhale. “Hand squeeze, deep breaths, noted.” They say when their eyes meet hers, “Thank you so much, Rae. Thank you so much for putting up with me and all my shit and thank you so much for never giving up on me no matter how much work I am or how hard dealing with me and my demons becomes.”

Rae’s heart stings at Y/N’s words, tears brimming her eyes when she raises a bit on her knees to press her lips against Y/N’s forehead. “Don’t thank me, angel. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and I never want to get gratitude for it. Love doesn’t ask for gratitude, and neither do I.”

Y/N lets out a small laugh to cover up an emotional sob that escapes their lungs. “I love you, Rae.” They say with a trembling voice.

“I love you too, Y/N.“

This time, the Y/N’s lips met the lips of their girlfriend, reminding themself that their safe haven isn’t a place, it’s a person - their girlfriend who means the world to them.

[scentedcandlesandcookies]

So I was inspired by @mrpenguinpants (go check out their work I'm referring to below this paragraph) and wanted to do another genshin fic. The interactions here can be anything you want it to mean (besides qiqi ofc). Also this is very self indulgent.

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Self hatred, self loathing, blood, depressing thoughts ig(?), momentary oblivion of you squint.

Also I'm on mobile so I'm so sorry for not being able to add a read more option!

Somehow you knew without knowing. You said things without needing to say it. A vessel of purity and wholeness. You had so much to give.

But how much was too much?

Qiqi called yours name on a rather sunny day. You were just about to head to Bubu Pharmacy when she ran up to them.

"Could you help me pick herbs? We always go together."

You knew what she meant in ways she couldn't convey. You were special to her, to everyone. You weren't aware of it though.

Knowing the worth of others was easier than knowing the worth of yourself.

"Of course, Qiqi, I'll always have time for you."

Qiqi loved your smile. It felt familiar. Qiqi saw you as an older sibling. She loved you in ways she couldn't express.

"I'm only good to be your ladder though! You know I'm not good with naming herbs!"

On a cooler day, Zhongli called you to have some tea with him. The both of you sat at a teashop watching the harbor through the open window.

The gentle breeze touched all uncovered parts of your skin. The smell of the sea dancing underneath your nose. The sunset painting a melancholic picture.

"The ocean looks sad today."

Zhongli looked at you rather confusedly. After promptly sipping his tea he responded.

"How can an ocean look sad? Something so old shouldn't be humanized."

The last sentence was more for himself than anything. You didn't know, but he sometimes loathed himself for all he'd done. He wondered if all the blood spilt was worth it.

You reminded him of Guizhong, so ready to see things in a new light without judgement. He often hears you sing to glaze lilies around Qingce.

"How could we forget what all the ancients did for us?"

A day after some much needed rain, you spotted Ganyu. Busy as ever, she was handling the unending work she often received. You decided to help out.

"Good morning, Ganyu. You seem to be someone who'd appreciate and extra pair of hands."

The joking atmosphere seemed to help lift the weight more than your hands. Ganyu giggled a bit.

"Some help would be much appreciated."

The rest of the day didn't feel like work. Ganyu felt the days of her childhood rushing back to her. Days without worry or work. Everything felt warmer, the sun began peeking its head out of the clouds.

"I'll do my best."

You visited Hu Tao on a gloomy day. The clouds were gray and it looked as if it was about to rain. You entered the doors of the funeral parlor with the permission of the ferrylady.

Unfortunately, Hu Tao wasn't feeling very Hu Tao that day. Walking into her office, she seemed lost in thought.

"Hu Tao?"

The gift of candies laud forgotten on the desk. You moved to place a hand on her shoulder. A gesture of your listening presence.

"They're just pranks, and I'm just trying to get business. Like everyone else, its just...different."

Pulling her in for a hug, just being a strong unbreakable pillar for her sake.

"They don't see all the things you do behind the scenes. That makes them immature, not you. I don't think they know why you do the things you do, and you know what? That's okay. You know what you're doing, and that's the best thing you could do. You're doing so well."

Liyue knew you so so well. An unbreakable pillar. A foundation that so many people needed.

What would happen if you ever crumbled? Well, that could never happen.

You visited Xiao on a rainy day. No heavy downpour, just a normal pitter-patter kind of rain.

You held a new dish in your hands, thinking that Xiao should try a new dish. Not to 'be more human' but to just try a different taste of life.

"Why are you still coming here? Its a long way from the harbor."

You simply smiled at the ground and put down the dish. Too afraid to sit on the railing, you opted for the floor.

"Being lonely isn't fun."

"As I thought, you're still so blind. Loneliness is my only company."

You laughed for a moment.

"Guess I should change my name to loneliness then."

You dared not to look at the mighty yaksha. You were just a pathetic human after all. Letting the dish sit in your lap, you outstretched your arms behind you.

"And you can't go around telling people they're blind! We all see things differently. You might think you need to spend eternity in loneliness, but we all crave to be loved or appreciated. Xiao, you're stuck with me."

You closed your eyes and turned towards Xiao, giving him a smile.

You felt the dish being taken from your lap and heard him sit next to you.

He began eating the warm soup.

Today was a bad day to go out. Heavy rain and a dark atmosphere. But you had commissions knocking against your income. You were preoccupied with something else though.

Everyone's busy. I really need some help but everyone's busy and I don't want to bother them.

You admired Qiqi for braving through her life as best as she could.

You admired Zhongli for his wise and comforting views on life.

You admired Ganyu's persistence in her work, but most importantly in herself.

You admired Hu Tao for being herself even when others shamed her for it.

You admired Xiao for living through such mundane life, day after day.

You wanted to be just like them, but you just couldn't do it on some days.

You wanted to hide. You wanted to bitch about your day. You wanted to give up. You wanted to hide yourself to avoid judgement. You wanted something different. Someone different.

Someone who wasn't you.

You never looked as good as everyone else. Your voice never sounded right. Your never seemed to be mentionable or noteworthy. And on some days you were okay with that.

Am I really going to be another grain of salt?

You trudged through the thick mud, ignoring the blisters on your feet. The rain seemed to taunt you as it settled in your clothes, your bones.

All you could taste was steel. You couldn't remember the last meal you ate. You felt so tired. You wanted to just stop everything.

But how could you? How could you when everyone else went on? It was just one last commission. They all have so much on their plate, you couldn't burden them anymore.

But your lungs burnt, you couldn't feel your fingers on your right hand. Where was your weapon? When did you lose your bag?

Why were your eyes so blurry? Everything sounded so loud. You just wanted to sleep. You were tired. You were trying so hard.

Why was it so fucking hard?

Why couldn't you do it? Why were you always so unsure? Why didn't you work as well as the others? Your feet moved by themselves. They weren't going fast enough. Your body wasn't good enough.

You're not enough.

You think you're at your destination. You don't know. Everything feels so unclear. Everything feels wrong.

Then there was warmth on your back. It was so warm, so comforting. It finally lulled you to sleep.

The millileth pulled the mitachurl's firey axe from the back of your corpse.

You were confused when you woke up. A girl with brown hair and a hat was frantically calling someone. You were in a lobby of sorts. There were others talking about people who left. They didn't look like people. They were see through.

See through just like you.

"Aiya! Why aren't you listening to me you idiot! You scared us! What happened?"

The girl seemed to be the only normal person here. Suddenly you felt like you've been ripped from that foggy place.

People were calling the same person's name again. Over and over. You were just trying to continue sleeping when you were violently shaken.

"Hey! Whats your problem!"

You shook the person off of you. A young man with a green tattoo and dark hair. A taller man with amber eyes and brown hair. A woman with horns and silky looking blue hair. That girl from before who wore the hat. A small girl with light purple hair and had a talisman on her hat.

"You're alive! Thank the archons! We were so worried when we heard the news! " The lady with the horns looked as if she was about to cry. You felt bad but the tension was awkward.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are."

Ty for reading! Leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed it! I hope some of yall picked up the hidden meanings hehehe~

Part two here:

[shotorozu]

Heyhey! It's 20th november here and uh, it's my birthday! Yeepee yoohoo or whatevs i suppose, um, is it okay if i request Bakugou, Todoroki, and Tamaki with an S/O who's crying on their bday? Like maybe life has been hard on them for the last few months and now everyone is pressuring them using "act more mature" or "you're old enough to stop acting like a kid" or sumn, and the fact that they're getting older just kinda makes them sad cuz now people are going to expect MORE from them. I hope that's aight, thanks✨💕

aaa happy birthday :) if you’re experiencing that then i’m sorry :(( you’re supposed to feel special on your birthday, so this is my birthday treat to you 🤍

you’re sad on your birthday

characters : bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto, amajiki tamaki

legend : [Y/N = your name] i’ll use they/them pronouns. reader has a strong quirk

fic type : headcanons [comfort; angst-ish to fluff]

≿————-　❈　————-≾

bakugou katsuki

he likes to pretend he doesn’t really care that much about your birthday

again, he’s pretty tsundere— that’s how katsuki is

IN REALITY

katsuki cares about your birthday a lot

he’s been saving up for your gift for a few months, and he will NOT fuck this up

so, he’s kinda shocked when he sees your melancholic expression the entire day

you’re someone that’s usually pretty laid back, and you seem pretty carefree

you do what you want, even if it seems a little immature at some times

but— why do you look that way??

so he comes to confront you around dinner time while holding his gift behind his back, asking what the hell is wrong with you

but your eyes,, they’re teary eyed

“what’s wrong idiot?? isn’t it your birthday??”

he’s kinda confused, but his spirit is right

“i don’t know katsuki, it’s like it’s crashing down on me”

your room is dark, so he places the gift onto your desk quietly— before running his hands along the side of your arms

“talk to me, idiot. what’s on your mind?”

and that’s when you voice all your worries.

on how you’re getting older and older by the second. even though you guys are still young, the expectations people have on you are building up on you

“everyone says im being ‘immature’ for my age, and i’m starting to think it’s true.”

you heave, and you push your head against his chest (not wishing to see his face)

“Y/N, look at me.”

begrudgingly, you look at him— tears rolling down your face

and even in the dark, you can see that genuine expression on his face

“fuck everyone’s expectations. look, it might be pretty plain of me to say this, but does some random extra’s opinion matter? no- hell no. it’s irrelevant.”

and it’s actually quite true, you’re lost for words— are you surprised? no. bakugou has a habit of doing that, catching you by surprise.

“also, you’re not immature. you’re just really genuine, and take that compliment— idiot.”

you giggle. you’re no longer crying— and you wrap your arms around his torso “thank you, katsuki”

“no problem, idiot. i’ll beat up any idiot that’ll say that shit about you.”

you guys lay in silence for a while, and he pulls you off of him— and walks back to your gift

“happy birthday, idiot.”

todoroki shouto

he’s oddly ethusiastic about your birthday

“love, where do you wanna go on your birthday? i’ll get anything you want.”

though, he’s confused when you’re not sharing the same ethusiasm.

you’re pretty relaxed and upgoing, so this is a little off. something is weird.

he doesn’t like pushing things onto you, so hours before your birthday,

he comes to your room, and you’re simply staring at the clock— watching as time passes by you.

“what’s wrong, love? it’s fine to hate birthday celebrations”

he’s too blunt, but expect that from him

you sigh, trying to find the words that you want to say. he encourages you by running his left hand along your back

“it’s my birthday soon, and everyone is expecting so much of me.”

he blinks

he doesn’t understand, but— he’s waiting for you to elaborate.

“i mean, given my quirk— i’d see why but. in the end, they always forget that i can’t meet their expectations.”

you tear up

“and i’m getting older, and it’s building up on me. i know i have to suck it up some day but.. it’s painful. sometimes i can be a little immature but really- it’s just me trying to save what’s left of my youth i guess...”

you guys aren’t even that old ngl

his expression is pained, and he pulls you into a hug

“i’m sorry love, you shouldn’t be feeling that way. you don’t have to please everyone all the time, and if you make mistakes— it shouldn’t discredit you for your talent. embrace your personality, even if you find yourself immature— i’ll always love you regardless.”

you don’t say anything, but you’re smiling. that’s the important part

growing older is still scary, but with shouto— it makes the journey less intimidating.

also, he spoils tf out of you on your birthday

amajiki tamaki

oddly enough, he’s doing the midnight countdown with you

you’d guess he’d be asleep by now, since tamaki isn’t such a ‘night owl’ to be frank

but!! he’s so pumped for your birthday

so he’s anticipating the clock to hit midnight, and when it does..

he’s elated! he’s looking at you for that classical Y/N smile

but it’s not there..? your expression hasn’t been this empty.

he’s worried if he made you mad, and his anxiety almost sets off

“d-did i make you mad, Y/N?”

“what? no- it’s not that.”

“please tell me Y/N, i’m not sure if i can go pass this without you telling me..”

you sigh, the moonlight luminating your face— enough to showcase that melancholic expression

“it’s my birthday. i know i should be happy but, getting older is so scary- you know?”

he gets it, because he himself has his troubles

but you’re there to calm him down from his worries. that’s why he fell head over heels for you.

he’s so shocked— and he’s not the best at comforting, so when you cry

it makes it worse for him. it’s like he’s in that much pain as you are!

“b-bunny, i know how hard it must be.. i’m not the best at this comforting stuff, but i want you to know that i’ll always be here. you don’t have to match everyone’s expectations, that’s what you’ve taught me. and i want you to know that i-i’ll love you, really! and seeing you in this pain isn’t what i want. i don’t care if people say you’re ‘immature’ i love you for you, bunny!”

it’s honestly the most tamaki has said, and it catches you off guard too.

he seems equally as surprised as you are, however, his intent is solid.

“thank you, tamaki.” you pull him into a hug, tears rolling down your cheeks “i.. really needed to hear that.”

tamaki’s cheeks are painted a bright red, but he pushes deeper into the hug— his hands running up and down your back

you finally allow the emotions to spill. all the buildup falling apart, and does tamaki mind? no. not at all, he prefers you to be clear with your emotions the most.

he’ll be your #1 supporter, even if he has to speak paragraphs and paragraphs to you

≿————-　❈　————-≾

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for reading! (happy birthday exclipsses🤍)

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing

do not plagiarize my work :)