#i haven't read any of these before so! that's fun!

[daengtokki]

Heyy there :) I literally can't stop thinking about SKZ f!additional member AU and softie Seungmin who seems nonchalant like the unbothered king he is but caring just deeply about reader, for example looking out for her when practice gets tough, getting snacks during recording sessions and so oooon. Yeah, I'm weak for that. Maybe you are, too. Have fun during this fluffy week either way^-^<3

This trope is interesting, but I've never actually read a single fic based on it! I'm not sure if I would do it justice. I do have an idea, though, and it's in the same vein as this, and I can add in the things that you're weak for (because same). The problem is…I can’t do it in a single ~1k word oneshot 🥲

So thank you for the inspiration for a new possible longer story! Unless everyone absolutely hates it.

If you like it, I’ll be happy.

idol!Kim Seungmin/guest artist!reader/idol!Chan x reader △

wc: ~1.1k (part 1?)

rating: angst to fluff

Day 5 of Seungmin's birthday oneshot countdown!

It's a few more weeks at the most, maybe longer, and after that...he'll probably never see you, or talk to you again. The planning stages of this was fun, he admits, and all eight of you sitting around the table talking to you on speakerphone; the excitement in everyone's eyes and voices was contagious. And of course Seungmin is excited...it's you. He's been a fan of yours for as long as he can remember, so having the opportunity to work alongside you, and maybe even sing with you? It’s a dream come true.

That's the problem.

He hasn't slept properly in a few days, and he's feeling very puffy and tired. There's only so much he can do now to prepare himself. He took a cold shower this morning, drank as much water as he could handle, but after that he couldn't stomach more than half of his iced coffee. It's still in his hand, numb from the almost melted ice, and dripping steadily on the floor. You're somewhere in this building right now, and you could walk in with the others at any moment.

Time to turn off. Turn off or make a complete ass of himself.

/ / /

You feel a little awkward as you walk toward the meeting room...recording studio? You actually have no clue where you're going, but you're flanked by two much taller men you don't know, and in front of you is Chan, who was a little red in the face when he was talking to you and asking you to call him Chris. So you do.

"Chris?"

He turns and smiles at you, and it's so...something you can't and refuse to deal with right now, you think. No. It's cute, and it's shy. The photos you've seen of him before today really did nothing for him, even the good ones. But you're a professional, and you are very good at acting professional when needed. Even when sweet, attractive men are involved.

"Yeah, all good?"

"Good, yeah! Where are we headed? Should I be mentally preparing to meet everyone?"

"Yes, definitely start preparing right now"

One more right turn and something about the door up ahead feels like the one. Meeting suite 1411. That's the one. Chris opens the door and moves aside to let you in first, and the room is empty, or appears to be. Security fell back and took up guard at the end of the hallway (unnecessary and embarrassing, you told Chris when they appeared).

"Oh, nobody is here...okay." He checks his phone and scrunches his nose, and you kind of feel like kissing it. "I'm sorry, I guess everyone ignored the group chat this morning."

"That's alright, are they somewhere else?"

"It's possible, but..." he points to the table filled with snacks and drinks. "I don't wanna drag you around looking for them." The phone is to his ear, and you hear it ringing, and ringing...

"I can wait here if you have to go find them. I already see a coffee carafe with my name on it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I haven't had enough coffee or stare at my phone time this morning, anyway. And my friends are down the hall."

He smiles so big, you have to return is just as enthusiastically. Maybe he'll turn up his flirting, and you won't have to feel as responsible for your own.

"I'll be right back"

Chris turns on his heel and is gone, and the room is so quiet. Maybe you should put some music on. Before anything, you look over the catering and wonder if anyone will actually have time to enjoy this. The coffee and lemon water, sure, but this is actually a full-course meal in front of you. Just as you fill your cup with coffee, you hear music...but you don't think you pushed play yet.

No, definitely not, because it's your voice that you're hearing. You turn toward it, and jump when you see him standing there, almost mid-step, one hand reaching to pull at his earlobe. His eyes are wide, but other than that...he seems less surprised to see you than you are to see him. But he does at least pause the music.

"Hello," you say, hoping to get him to come a little closer. Whoever he is, and you feel like you should remember all of their names by now, he looks a little annoyed that he now has to share this space and this coffee with someone else. "My eyesight isn't great even with the contacts... I don't bite."

"Hi," he takes a few steps toward you, and you watch his long legs move in his shorts and socks and clean black converse. "I'm–"

"No, I can remember...give me a second"

He does, but he doesn't seem happy about it. This one doesn't have the carefree smile that Chris did, or the shy demeanor. It's a bit distracting, the way his lips purse into a heart, and the way his big brown eyes look down at you. His hair falls perfectly in front of his eyes, but you're pretty sure he woke up looking this good.

"Oh..." it comes to you, sort of. "You're the puppy, aren't you?" You think you see the ghost of a smile on his lips, but it's gone so quickly. "Seungmin."

"Yes, I'm the puppy. And also Seungmin."

The puppy persona fits him, at least physically. His face is soft and round, his big brown eyes turn every so slightly downward, and his ears—something about the way his ears sit on his head, is so... "it's nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise"

Seungmin holds out his hand for you. You do the same, and he takes it so gently. His touch and his mien don't seem to match, and you wonder if the first impression isn't the one to remember for this one.

/ / /

Seungmin finally takes a deep breath when you turn and head toward the coffee again, and he watches as you very carefully add the smallest amount of milk and sugar to it. He finally finished his, so maybe he should make himself another cup. It gives him a reason to rejoin you instead of standing here looking like an idiot.

"Have you met everyone else, or just me?" What a stupid question, he thinks. "I mean, I'm sure you met someone...you're here."

"I met Chris. He left to go find all of you, but you must be the only one who read the message and listened."

"Yes, I saw the message. I like to be on top of things."

The way his voice lowers as he speaks sends a little shiver up your arms. Seungmin likes to be on top of things, and you love catching an innuendo wherever you can. You smirk, but wipe it from your face when you think he might be looking at you.

Seungmin sees the smile pull at your lips and then disappear immediately. "What?"

"Nothing,” you laugh. “I don’t think you talked much on the calls, did you?”

“I did not speak much, I don’t have too much creative say. I have some, it just depends on what we’re doing.”

“Well, it’s tough getting in there with eight of you, I’m sure. Everyone can’t be everywhere…too many cooks in the kitchen.”

Seungmin allows himself to laugh at that, but he stifles it a little and turns away. You’re as cute and relaxed in person as you seem in interviews, and on stage, and it’s a little overwhelming. He can’t let himself do this—he can’t get himself into something he won’t be able to escape. But he seems to remember reading something about a possible relationship you’ve gotten yourself into. Thinking about that breaks his heart a little, but it’ll at least help keep him away.

None of that matters, though. Why would you have any interest in him in the first place?

“Do you want coffee? How do you take it?”

Dammit, okay… “black is good.”

[anqelfries]

(please/don't) call me baby

soundtrack <3

pairing: tetsurou kuroo x f. reader

content: fluff, crack humor, kuroo acts like a loser virgin LOL, way too many pet names, it girl energy reader !!!

warnings: swearing, like one sexual joke, ooc

word count: 1k

for the lovely @chososcamgirl <33 i've had sm fun in your w this idea !!!

you call everyone pet names. it's kind of your thing now, really. everyone, from yaku (darling!), to kenma (sweetheart!) to lev (angel!). that is, everyone except kuroo. to you, kuroo is kuroo. occasionally tetsurou, if he's lucky, but mostly he is just kuroo.

he doesn't mind it, he swears. he doesn't even care! or he wouldn't, but he also unfortunately happens to be head-over-heels in love with you. how embarrassing. and he's totally not jealous of the other guys.

which leads him to his current situation. his head tips back over the back of his chair as he runs one hand through his hair. "y/n, do you hate me?"

"no, why?" your answer is sharp and fast from the desk next to his.

oh, shit. now it's awkward.

"because, like... you don't call me any of your stupid cute names or anything," he explains sheepishly.

you sit up straight, lips curving up into a beautiful, evil smile. "you wanna be called pet names, kuroo?"

he flushes, shakes his head. "naaah, just asking."

you don't seem to believe him, head tilted to one side as you regard him curiously. and then you're getting up and making your way towards him, bending down to get on his level, and he thinks he might spontaneously combust in his pants. your fingers dance across the broad expanse of his chest, and your eyes are like a predator's, stalking its prey. his breath hitches as he waits for you to speak; when you finally do, he thinks he might have be going insane.

"whatever you say, baby," you purr, and holy fuck, kuroo is so ready to get down on his knees for you or bark like a dog or do whatever the fuck you want right now. he is pathetically down bad for you — it's embarrassing, and like you can read his mind, you just have to go and make it worse.

you twirl his tie around your fingers, careful and calculated, and for a split second, he imagines being pulled up by it, letting you kiss him in this empty classroom, just like that. and oh, apparently you're satisfied with how much you've messed him up right now, because suddenly you're back at your desk, and he's watching you fix your skirt with a beet red face and even redder ears.

today, for whatever reason, you're taking longer than usual to pack up when class ends, so he takes the opportunity to extricate himself from this terrible, terrible situation that he's created for himself. but when he's finally halfway out the door, someone calls his name.

"kuroo," you call after him, sickeningly sweet voice pulling him back to you. "baby, don't say you're leaving without me!"

his knees give way.

"you haven't forgotten my offer, though, right?" what a perfect gentleman, walking you home like this. he's even limiting his strides so you can keep up with ease.

"what offer, baby?" you hum distractedly, eyes glued to your phone. manicured fingers fly across it as you text someone, and you only look up when he chokes unceremoniously.

"you okay—"

"yes! i'm fine!" he yelps before you can say another word — or rather, one very specific word — and looks away to hide his reddening face. "as i was saying—"

"yes, b—"

"stop talking! i mean, let me speak!"

you frown, surprised at the way he won't let you get in a word edgewise. "okay, weirdo. go on?"

"the manager position is still open," he huffs. he's still embarrassingly red; his heart has not yet calmed down. “if you want.”

"mm, i don't know, baby, i'll have to think about it."

he will die. or he will run into oncoming traffic and die. this is so unfair, it's torture—

"thanks for walking me back, baby, i'll see ya."

he trips and falls on his face. "fuck— i mean, see you later!"

"you seem awfully happy today," kenma observes. "did something happen?"

"what? no, why?" he splutters. splotches of red begin to appear on his face, and kenma smirks.

"sure."

"say, kenma."

"what?" he sounds annoyed even though he's the one who started this conversation.

"how do you deal with y/n's nicknames?"

"what d'you mean? they're okay."

silence. kuroo rolls this new piece of information over in his mind. "so... you don't feel like exploding or dying every time she calls you, like, baby or something?"

kenma looks confused. "no? i think that's called a crush, kuro. also you know she said she thinks that's too romantic for her friends, so no, 'cause she doesn't even call any of us that— are you okay?"

"kenma."

"what?"

"shut up."

kuroo is pretty. it's not an unknown fact, and you, having known him for several years at this point, are no stranger to it either. with sly honey-brown eyes and bedhead that he manages to make look good in a way that you just cannot fathom, he is — in short — just your type. this is also where you shamefully admit that yes, even his derisive remarks and general air of disdain when it comes to his opponents is very attractive indeed. not to mention his biceps— actually, let's not go there.

but biceps or not, he has been driving you insane as of late. and now, it's apparent that you're finally getting to return the favour. you're not stupid; you've been noticing his reactions to the nickname from the start. and it's almost satisfying to be able to toy with him the way he's — unintentionally — been doing with you. maybe he'll even catch the hints you've been dropping if he's lucky.

meanwhile, it's taken kuroo exactly one hour and twenty-three minutes to desensitize himself to (the thought) of your voice. anyways, it's not like he'll see you any time soon, so it's okay. first there's volleyball practice, then he'll go straight to bed.

kuroo hates himself — it's like everything he does comes back to bite him in the ass. or rather, in the lungs this time, question mark. because as he struggles to breathe properly, you're waving at him from across the gymnasium in a very oversized NEKOMA jacket.

"i thought about it it!" you yell. "i'll be temporarily managing the team!"

maybe he should quit.

author's note :: whenever i'm describing kuroo i swear i start typing w one hand😭😭 reader's pov was NAWT necessary to the story i just wanted to salivate over him ok.

also this is going to be a series so like :) that's why there's nothing major here really

[rubyin-wonderland]

Sleepless Nights

opla!Zoro x gn!reader

Summary: due to your anxiety, you haven't been sleeping that well. Or at all. Someone needs to step in.

WC: 3.4k

Warnings/tags: anxiety, insomnia, overworking yourself, breaking down, there's fluff in here I swear, hurt/comfort written by someone who's never been comforted or knows how to comfort so we'll see

It was a sunny day. Perfect for any arrangement of fun activities or entertainment. And yet, on your ship, neither of those were to be found.

The crew stood on the deck, watching as you paced back and forth across the length of the deck, mumbling something incoherent to yourself.

"When did they last sleep?" Nami asked, peeking over at Zoro, who stood up straight, arms crossed and brow furrowed at your display. He was more tense than usual. "Few days. Unless you count napping at a desk for a few minutes as sleep." "I don't."

You had been really nervous lately. The ship was rapidly approaching the Grand Line and the air was lit with nerves. Both of excitement and anxiety.

The anxiety was primarily yours. For the past week you had taken it upon yourself to keep everything ship shape. There was one problem with this, that being that you were not comforted by completing your self-appointed list of tasks.

On the contrary. As days passed by, you grew more and more agitated, your anxiety building instead of settling. When you weren't hidden away in your room, writing yet another list or searching through your small library of informational books or doing menial tasks all over the boat, you were doing what you did now, pacing along the deck until inspiration struck and you would go back to your room, mumbling to yourself all the way.

The crew had done their best in terms of trying to calm you down. They invited you to participate in small activities with them, hoping you would relax enough to let go of your stress, but that rarely, if ever, worked.

Zoro took responsibility when you got too bad, stepping in when you broke down, helping you as best he could until you had calmed down enough to be stable, but you never relaxed past that. The anxiety never left you. Never completely.

At one point, you had gotten so worked up over Sanji's meal plan that you had holed yourself up deep in the belly of the ship, crying in between boxes of unknown things. You made a mental note to run inventory on them, which only made you feel worse.

After sobbing your eyes out, you returned to the world above the waterline and complained about the situation to Zoro, who comforted you as best he could before going to argue with Sanji about the meal plan and how you were handling everything.

The argument was bad, but you spent the most of it inside your room, as you read about the probability of a tornado encountering your ship while you travelled.

That night had been difficult for everyone, trying to keep Sanji and Zoro from attacking each other while also making sure you stayed fed and in the best mood you could possibly be, the bar for which was getting lower and lower as the days passed by.

That was the first night you didn't sleep. You told Zoro to sleep off his anger and you would join him, but while he did follow your orders, you disobeyed yourself and stayed up all night.

You hadn't slept since. They had all tried to convince you to sleep, but all manners of convincing and pleading with you were unsuccessful.

You would eat at meals and spend time with the crew when requested, but nobody knew how to get you to sleep.

Not even Zoro, your beloved nap addict, was able to pull you down. He had tried. He had tried so hard, but you tried harder.

His naps had felt unsatisfactory without you leaning on him while he rested. He was missing your presence and he was feeling it.

He would ask for you to nap with him, but you would brush him aside, and he was not the type to beg you to sleep with him, so he let you go. At first.

Sleeping at night was a different story. He would ask you to join him and you would do one of two things.

The first option was saying yes and crawling into bed with him, allowing him to pull you close in some futile attempt at falling asleep, but it never took, and you would just break out of his grasp once he had fallen asleep, returning to your work.

The other was telling him you would be there in "just a minute", promising both him and yourself that you would be there soon, but there was always something that took your attention. One more task, one last note. Until the morning came and Zoro woke up alone in your bed.

He would try to lure you in, napping close to you. Before everything went south, you would join him if you ever saw him napping, sliding in next to him, resting your head on his shoulder or draping a lazy arm over his body, tangling yourself with him.

You used to seek eachother out to nap, but since you weren't sleeping, it was just him, by himself, while you worked yourself to death.

Occasionally, your body would force you into sleep, but it never took. Zoro would find you slumped over your desk, unmoving but breathing deeply, and he would hope that he could move you to the bed somehow to get you to sleep but you would soon jolt up, taking in a ragged breath and your brief rest would be over and done with.

You were usually at your desk when it happened, overly tired and overworked. Your head would fall onto your work, and for a few minutes, you would regain miniscule bits of strength to power you for the next little while.

While it happened mostly at your desk, it had happened in other places too, but always while you were sitting down. Never while you were standing and certainly not while you were walking.

However, earlier that day, on your way to the kitchen with Zoro, you had just collapsed. It terrified Zoro to no end, as he watched you fall, carefully watching as your chest rose and fell, indicating that as scary as it had been, you were still alive.

When you woke up as you usually did, you took longer to get up, lethargy taking over. In a few more minutes you were back to being as anxious as ever, but it was this incident that had spurred the crew to watching you pace along the deck.

You made a sudden, sharp turn, going inside, ignoring the stares that followed you in.

"You need to get them to sleep." Nami insisted. "And not just a nap. A full, healthy sleep. This can't possibly be good for them."

"I could make their favourite meal, maybe-" "This isn't about your food, waiter. Butt out." Zoro frowned at Sanji, poison in his gaze. The argument about the meal plan still pretty fresh, and spirits hadn't gotten much better since you stopped sleeping.

"Maybe during the meal we could talk to them about what's going on. Or is that too complex for you?" Sanji asked, hands on his hips.

"Don't forget that you and your stupid meal plan are a part of this problem." Sanji was prepared to shoot back but Zoro cut him off. "Leave it. I can do this."

Zoro followed you as you ducked into your room, sitting down once more in your chair, hunched over your papers, scribbling something down. Over time, your handwriting had deteriorated significantly. Slowly but surely you could see the descent into exhaustion you had gone through. You writing had gone from it's normal script, into chicken scratch, into missing letters and words, into things that looked like words, but the letters were all wrong, leaving you with a pile of nonsense on your desk.

Closing the door behind him, prepared to put an end to this, Zoro approached you.

He was careful to make sure you knew he was there before he spoke. Heavy steps, making sure to lean on the one creaky floorboard.

"Hey." His hand reached out, resting on your desk. You looked up, meeting his eyes. You blinked a few times before you processed who was there with you. A smile spread on your face, in an attempt to convince him that you were fine.

"Oh, hi Zoro." The smile was forced and looked like it took a bit of effort.

"Why don't you take a break from work and sleep a bit?" He suggested casually, hoping you wouldn't catch onto how bad he needed you to go to sleep.

"Why?" You asked, voice soft. The way you spoke the single word had him weak. Even in your exhausted state, you could manage to charm him.

"You haven't slept in days." You looked at him, still smiling. "I'm fine, Zoro." "You fell asleep standing up this morning." "It won't happen again, I've got a handle on it."

"I'm worried about you."

That was one thing guaranteed to make you stop. He didn't like telling you about his emotions. It was always a struggle. So this confession gave you pause.

"Zoro, I'm alright. I promise." "You need to rest."

You sighed, gesturing at the piles of paper scattered across the table. "I still have things to do. I need to plan a schedule for how long we're going to stay at each island, which one we'll reach first so I can see what we're dealing with, I need to make Sanji's grocery list-"

"He can do that himself." Zoro cut in, still angry at the chef for suggesting that his food would help you better than he could.

He kneeled next to your chair, looking up at you, face completely serious.

"Please." He said as earnestly as he could. A cautious hand reached up to rest on your arm. He noted that your skin was ice cold. "I wouldn't ask you to do this if I wasn't worried for you. One decent sleep is all I want for you."

Your eyes rested on his hand, which held your arm away from your writing. You could feel the warmth emanating from him and resisted the urge to snuggle up against him.

"Zoro, I need to-" "What does this say?" Zoro grabbed one of your messier pages off the desk, showing it to you. The words were messy and barely legible, if they were even words at all. It was a mess of circles, dots and arches, scribbled in wandering lines across the page, making no sense. What words that did exist meant nothing without the context of the words around them.

You moved your hand, taking the page from Zoro's hand, doing your best to read the scribbles, trying to remember what you were even trying to write about.

Your eyes stopped moving after a while and Zoro carefully removed the paper from your grasp, taking it away from your line of sight.

"I messed it up." You whispered, letting your hands fall, eyes beginning to shine with tears. "Oh no." You repeated that phrase over and over, as you glanced at the many many pages sitting on your desk in similar condition.

You pulled your eyes away from the desk, turning to Zoro. You reached out for him, for something, anything to latch on to, hands grasping at his arms. He held on to you, hands on your elbows as you began to cry.

As the tears fell, you could hear Zoro. Under your shaky breaths and sniffles, his voice. Sturdy as a stone wall. Supportive. Protective.

"It's alright. You're okay." He whispered, thumbs gently rubbing up and down the skin of your arms.

You tried to stand, but you fell back into your chair, legs having given out. Zoro lifted you up instead, effortlessly. You let go of his arms and wrapped your limbs around his body, continuing to cry as everything came crashing down around you.

You didn't have much strength left, but what strength you did have was used to keep your arms and legs out of the way, holding him as tight as you could, letting him carry you the two steps to the bed.

You had buried your face in his neck while he sat down, your sobs quieter, but audible right next to his ear.

He leaned back, making sure to get your limbs out from under him, laying down completely. His arms embraced you once more, but this time, he just held you.

In his arms you continued crying, but it was slowing down. As your breathing began to settle, you squeezed him, not easing up. A hiccup escaped your lips and you let out another shuddering breath.

"You didn't mess anything up. Zoro reassured from under you. "You did everything right."

You sat in silence and he held you as you relaxed. You were cold in his arms, but he just reminded himself that to you, he was warm.

He felt you soften around him, it was like you were melting into him, your muscles loosening, until you were just splayed out across him like a strange blanket.

He didn't care. He had no mind for how you were to fall asleep, just that you had to do it. He would suffer through anything as long as you got your sleep. He was not unfamiliar with being kicked late in the night, but he was ready to shoulder that burden too. He could suffer any arrangement of bruises in order to see that you had a good sleep.

Now that he had finally gotten you into the bed, he wasn't going to let you leave. You would not wiggle out to return to your work. He would keep you here. He missed it so much.

"I can't sleep." You confessed to his chest, aware that you falling asleep was the specific reason for this visit. "I close my eyes and it's all nightmares." Zoro looked down at you, still embraced in his arms, the occasional shiver running through your body.

"About what?"

"Getting to the Grand Line and being unprepared. Getting hurt, lost, sick. Dying." Zoro listened attentively as your worries finally escaped from the place where they'd been locked up in your head.

"The Grand Line is dangerous. I know we can handle it, but what if we don't?"

"Look how far we've gotten already. You really think there's something on the Grand Lina that can stop us?"

You let Zoro's words sink in, but still fought back, holding him just a tiny bit tighter. "I almost lost you after the duel with Mihawk." You could see the tip of the scar peeking out of his shirt. A reminder of what you had nearly lost. "And that was just one thing. We all got attacked at Kaya's manor, Nami abandoned us for Arlong, Luffy almost drowned while you were unconscious and if it weren't for Sanji, I have to think at least one of you would've died there."

You noticed a shift in Zoro's grip when you say Sanji's name. "We've been in trouble before, but we survived." He insisted. "We've been lucky. We were lucky to have Usopp run to tell the people about Kuro, we were lucky to have Sanji and Zeff to save Luffy and you at Baratie."

"Then we're really lucky to have you to keep us organized. Keep us grounded. We'll survive the Grand Line, because I'm not dying until I become the greatest swordsman in the world, and I haven't done that yet."

You wanted to say more, to go on about the many things that could happen to you as you traveled, but your body was completely exhausted. You were so tired.

And so, you shifted in place, making yourself comfortable in bed, still held within Zoro's arms, moving downwards to lay your head on his chest. He moved in turn, sitting up against your pillows, readjusting his arms and pulling a blanket up and over you.

"Get some sleep." He whispered gently, trying not to rouse you too much. "Please."

This time, you didn't protest. There was no last excuse or question as to why he would ask you to do such a silly thing as getting some rest. There was just peace. There was just you, sinking deeper into his arms, breaths becoming slower and slower.

Within a minute of sitting silently encased in Zoro's grasp, you had fallen asleep. Zoro only moved once, to pull the blanket up a little higher. Zoro was ready to drift off himself, having missed sleeping with you close to him, but just as his eyes drifted shut, he heard the door squeak.

His eyes shit to the door, an intense glare on his face as the eyes of his crew peeked in to make sure everything was alright.

He briefly looked down to make sure you were undisturbed before returning to glaring at the eyes peeking through the door, a warning that if any of them woke you up, he was prepared to raise hell.

The door squeaked shut and closed with a click, the sound of whispers from outside. You remained sleeping, undisturbed by the sounds that Zoro had been worried about.

You were breathing deeply, a soft snore rising from your lips. You didn't move much, unexpectedly, your dead weight just resting on Zoro's body. He looked past it, glad he had taken his belt off beforehand so that his swords didn't dig into you while you slept.

Under normal circumstances he would've fallen asleep with you, but because of how badly you needed this, he stayed alert. You needed this sleep and he was going to let you have it, even if it meant staying awake while you slept so comfortably on top of him.

He didn't keep track of time, just letting it pass, every second being just that small amount of rest you deserved for working so hard and caring so much.

On his chest, you moved, finally spurred to action, twisting your head in the other direction, pressing a cold cheek to his chest as the rest of your body shifted as well.

Zoro remained still. You needed a place to rest and he could be that for you. He would be that for you.

You had done so much for the crew already, working yourself so hard. He wished he had stepped in sooner, after two nights without you at his side or the first time you had drifted off at your desk and woke up even more confused and disoriented than before.

He stayed still, almost like a statue, the only movement being that of his breathing, which was beginning to line up with yours.

He wasn't even conscious of when he began to draw circles on your shoulder.

You used to do it with him when he was almost asleep, running the tips of your fingers across his skin, the gentle touch soothing and sweet. He liked it, and he hoped you did too.

His mimicry surely wasn't as good as yours, but he traced the circles anyway, tracing his masterpiece through the fabric of your shirt.

He hoped that if you weren't in a deep, dreamless sleep, that you were at least dreaming of good things. Of adventure and happiness and love, not of your struggles or your anxieties about the future. He hoped the nightmares were gone and that you didn't have to worry about what was to happen.

He hoped you knew that you weren't fighting your battles alone. He had your back. The crew had your back. They would be okay even if you didn't plan every single thing out to the very last, intricate detail. That you were allowed to calm down, take breaks, and let people take care of themselves.

"I love you." He whispered to your sleeping form.

He wasn't one for heartfelt declarations like that. He had said it before, and the truth of the statement rang true every day he spent by your side, but to hear it out loud was a rarity. You both knew the statement was true, and that was enough.

He said it now. And he would say it again when you woke up. And he would say it again any time you needed to hear it. He would say it a million times as long as you knew it was true. That he loved you.

You didn't respond, he didn't even know if you would be able to hear it, but a tiny smile curved up at the corners of your lips, ever so slight, and yet it was wonderful. He smiled back, just as sweetly as you had done it.

He wasn't sure if you had heard him speak, or if you had just dreamt up something really nice, or even just felt the rumbles of his voice in his chest, but no matter what, he wouldn't mind having to say it again when you woke up.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Quill, I have book recommendations for you! I have read all of these books and can guarantee that they are at least somewhat enjoyable! Also, if you want to learn more about the books, let me know!

Tarnished are the Stars by Rosie Thor: Sci-Fi novel featuring the son of what is essentially the chief of the law enforcement, a spy for the queen, and an illegal medic. Very interesting book to read, and the romance, while not the focus, is very interesting.

In the Role of Brie Hutchens: Okay, so middle schooler with an obsession with soap operas that has to lie to her religious mother about being awarded a very high honor after being caught looking at some inappropriate pictures of her favorite actress. It’s a lovely queer novel featuring monologues and discovery. The other books by the author are also very good!

Felix Yz: About a kid who fused with a 4th dimensional being when he was 3, and what life is like years later. He has a minor romantic side plot with his crush on his classmate, but not the focus. Also, the author has another book about a trans girl if you are interested!

The other boy: doesn’t go with the stereotype of a trans guy hating sports and instead has the main character be a part of the sports team. After he’s outed he has to deal with the consequences of that. Very good book.

I have more but I don’t want to overwhelm you! If you want anymore book recommendations, let me know!

-⚙️

!! thank you very much!! I love getting suggestions and learning about other books, especially through the lens of someone's whose read and enjoyed it. Adds a bit of excitement and sentiment to it

Out of these four, the two that are catching my interest more than the others are Tarnished are the Stars (because I have an affinity for fantasy/sci-fi) and Felix Yz (once again, for the sci-fi). However! I do like to peruse through queer media of other genres, even though sports and soap opera related things really aren't my area. So perhaps I'll end up reading those as well.

I say this every time but its still true: I have a lot of books to read through so I don't know when I'll get to these, but I'll try my best to check them out!

Also I'm always open to book suggestions, though I can't promise to read every single one I get. So if you'd ever like to send more (or anyone else would, preferably with a summary), you're more than welcome to do so :)

[governmentmandatedryujinstan420]

releasing this from the hj discord dungeon because the public populace was in agreement also i'm chronically offline on tumblr and need to fix that for my chronically online ahh

[valhallavalgrace]

How are you adjusting to the whole Norse mythology situation?

LEO: I’ve mostly been bugging some of the older einherjar, and Hunding, a little bit, to figure this place out. Do you know how cool it is that some people have been here since the industrial revolution?? There's no way that I'm the first of my dad's kids to make it here. I just don't know who to talk to about it.

((Leo's coping mechanism re: Norse mythology is just hating himself more bc of course he doesn't belong in his own afterlife. but he won't admit that to anyone bc he doesn't know who can be vulnerable with.))

prev ask

[fuedalreesespieces]

one thing that always gets me whenever i read inuyasha modern au fics is that inuyasha is supposedly "the slacker" or the guy who doesn't try hard on anything academia related, and that always struck me as odd bc you're telling me inuyasha wouldn't be competing with, say, koga for rank 1? that he wouldn't study his ass off in the subjects he's actually interested in? that he wouldn't pour his everything into extracurriculars he cares about? he has his aloof moments in canon but ultimately he's a hard worker and i think that trait should be reflected in aus!

plus if we're thinking about the setting here, inuyasha's canon behavior is greatly influenced by his upbringing (and later lack thereof). putting him in an environment (modern au, lack of youkai discrimination) where his talents are cultivated instead of looked down upon would give us a very different character. it's always interesting to me whenever i see canon-typical inuyasha behavior in an au where his mom is alive because it suggests that his mistrust and gruff behavior are just part of his personality and not largely a result of childhood events. i feel like modern aus are an opportunity to see how he might have grown if not for the death of his mother + father & the consistent threat looming over him as a child. what would his personality be like then? how would his first meeting with kagome go considering that? his dynamics with his older brother? his goals? it's something that could be explored in a fic taking place in the feudal realm but it's kind of difficult to just subtract the discrimination aspect that comes with that setting...just things to think abt ig!

[firstelevens]

I could not possibly choose because I want to see your take on most of those Situation prompts, but if any of these speak to you from this list: 1, 2, 8, 23, or 52?

(I was working on a "loss of powers" fill for you but it got so long that it's gonna take another three thousand words to finish, so in the interim, here's some fluff)

1. touch starved/cuddle curse pollen

Sam has been on edge since this mission first came up on his radar. The minute he’d gotten the tip—black market sales of alien goods hidden within upmarket art auctions—his gut had told him that things were going to go wrong. He’s been waiting for it all week.

First he thinks there might be a jurisdiction issue, but Monica offers to run interference and takes care of it before it lands on Sam’s desk. Then Redwing scans the supplier’s base for heat signatures and picks up two other figures moving through the hallway, mere feet away from where Sam and the others made their entrance.

He’s certain that this is the thing he’s been worried about, but another scan from Redwing reveals that the taller of the two figures is carrying a very familiar hammer, and a moment later, Thor himself rounds the corner with a little girl in tow.

The two of them didn’t know each other all that well, but he greets Sam with a bone-crushing hug all the same, and Sam can’t pretend that he isn’t glad to have a little divine intervention on his side for this mission, just in case.

Between sharing the information that they’d uncovered and hearing about Thor’s own leads, Sam almost forgets about that bad feeling he’d had. It only comes back to him as they go to track down the merchandise, Sam and Bucky splitting up as a hallway unexpectedly forks left and right in front of them.

Sam is scanning crates in large, high-ceilinged room when Bucky’s voice sounds over the comms.

“Sam? Sam, you there?” he asks, his speech growing strangely slurred. “Sammy…I don’t feel so good.”

There’s a soft thud that might be Bucky passing out, but Sam doesn’t have the time to parse it. He’s already sprinting down the hallway that Bucky disappeared into, stopping in the open doorway of what looks very much like a greenhouse.

He’s just about to walk through when Thor calls out, “Captain, wait!”

“Bucky’s in there!” says Sam. “He called for help and then he passed out.”

“Sergeant Barnes may be stronger than the average man, but he is still of Earth,” says Thor. “As are you.”

“What’s your point?”

Thor gestures to a cluster of spiky orange plants on the table nearest the door. “I played among these as a child. Most of these plants are familiar to me in some form or another. I cannot say how they would affect you, but they won’t do me harm. Let me bring him out.”

Sam nods, though he cranes his neck to see over the plants as Thor sets down his hammer and disappears among the greenery.

“He’ll be alright,” says the little girl, who Thor had introduced as Love. “These are houseplants, mostly. I don’t even think I see any carnivorous ones.”

Luckily, the uncle instincts kick in and allow Sam to maintain a calm demeanor as he thanks Love instead of doing what he wants to do and asking just how many carnivorous houseplants they have in outer space.

It’s a good distraction when Thor emerges with Bucky in his arms, looking more or less unharmed, and Sam’s relief immediately turns to bafflement when Thor gestures with a nod to the table just by the door.

“Water, please, Love.”

She scurries around him to grab a bottle of water from the table and immediately opens it and pours it over Bucky’s face.

“Thor, what the–”

“I just wanted to wash away the residue around his nose and mouth. He inhaled it.”

“He did what?” asks Sam. “Do I need hazmat down here? Should I call–”

But Sam breaks off as Bucky wakes with a cough and a sputter, shaking his head to get his now-wet hair out of his eyes. He blinks a few times, like he can’t quite focus as he stares up at Thor.

“Wow,” says Bucky, and just as Sam is bracing for a tirade about how it’s rude to throw water at someone, he goes on to say, “your bicep is bigger than my head.”

Sam feels his jaw drop. Then it drops a little bit more as Bucky lolls his head against the aforementioned bicep, smiling up at Thor.

Thor laughs, looking at Sam. “Completely harmless,” he says. “It’s the pollen of the Gangalorian Moonblossom.”

When Sam narrows his eyes, he tells himself it has nothing to do with the way that Bucky is staring all wide-eyed at Thor’s jawline. “Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“You need only know that it won’t hurt him,” says Thor. “Captain Rogers encountered it once, years ago now. The effects wore off within hours, and he was perfectly well the next day.”

“What effects?” asks Sam, though he’s not sure he needs to. At the sound of his voice, Bucky turns to look in Sam’s direction, and his eyes immediately go wide.

“Hi, Sammy,” he says, grinning so wide his eyes scrunch up. Bucky pats Thor’s chest, then makes a vaguely impressed noise and pokes at it one more time. “You can put me down now.”

Thor glances at Sam for approval, then sets Bucky down once he gets a nod.

“See?” slurs Bucky, still looking wobbly. “M’great.”

Then he takes a single step and stumbles over his own feet, but before Thor can reach out again, Sam has an arm around Bucky’s waist and Bucky’s left arm over his shoulder. “Sure you are, Buck.”

Up close, it’s clear that his pupils are enormous, his face flushed. Sam reaches up to sweep Bucky’s hair out of his face, and Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, a shudder going through him.

“‘Course I’m great,” says Bucky, leaning into Sam’s side. “You’re here.”

Sam feels his face go warm. He looks at Thor. “You promise he’ll be alright in a few hours?”

Thor nods. “Perhaps a bit cuddlier until then, and with fewer inhibitions, but no harm will come to him.”

“See?” asks Bucky. “Told you. I’m fine. Thor said so.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Sam. “Are you two okay to wrap up here while I get Bucky back to the jet?”

When Thor assures him that they are, Sam slowly turns around, still supporting Bucky’s weight. He nudges Thor’s hammer out of the way with his foot, and though he thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, Sam has had enough alien surprises for the night.

He hobbles back towards the jet with Bucky, who seems to be regaining some stability, but gets distracted enough by every other thing that Sam is relieved to already be holding him in place. Once they’re up the gangway, Sam gets Bucky situated on one of the bench seats.

He’s only just turned his back, in search of the first aid kit when Bucky speaks.

“Sam, it’s hot,” he says, in what Sam can only describe as a whine. “Why’s it so hot in here?”

When Sam looks at him, he’s stripping out of his tac jacket, flinging it aside. From Bucky, who’s been known to use three separate blankets anytime the jet gets up to altitude, it’s the most worrisome symptom yet.

“It’ll get cooler, Buck,” says Sam, watching him strip off the long-sleeved shirt he’d had on under the jacket. “You might miss those layers.”

“I won’t, ‘cause it’s hot,” Bucky whines again, now just clad in a sleeveless compression shirt. Then, seemingly unrelated. “How come you’re so far away?”

Sam looks down at the floor, mentally counting the no-more-than-ten paces between him and Bucky. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” says Bucky, with that familiar, stubborn set to his jaw. “You’re too far. Why?”

“I was getting you water,” says Sam, holding up the bottle and walking it over to Bucky, who immediately takes it and downs half.

“Thank you, Sammy,” he says, grinning up at Sam again. “You’re the best.”

“I’ll remember you said that,” says Sam.

“So will I,” says Bucky, his eyes wide and earnest. “Always.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Sam says, because he can’t process that right now.

“You’re welcome.”

“Is this close enough for you, by the way?” asks Sam. “I could maybe drag over one of the–” 

But he cuts himself off as Bucky shakes his head fervently. “Too far,” he says, with something close to a pout. Then he pats the spot beside him on the bench seat.

“Alright,” says Sam, already reasonably sure where this is going. “But no comparing my biceps to Thor’s.”

“Thor who?” Bucky asks absently, and it shouldn’t delight Sam as much as it does.

The second that Sam is sitting down, Bucky is practically vibrating, but he doesn’t say anything, just keeps darting hopeful glances over at him. It’s Sam who puts an end to it, sighing and grabbing a pillow from the basket under the seat and setting in on his lap.

“Alright, Barnes,” he says, patting the pillow. “Knock yourself out.”

For a moment, Bucky stays where he is, eyes wide with disbelief. Then: “Really?”

Sam nods. “Really.”

Bucky rolls his shoulders for a moment and stretches like a cat—and if Sam is watching as he does it, that’s just because Sam feels strongly about eye contact, thank you—before sprawling out on the bench seat with his head in Sam’s lap, sighing with relief as he does.

“Better?” asks Sam, giving Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Almost,” says Bucky. He reaches up, fumbling for Sam’s hand before he finds it, then pulling it to rest on Bucky’s head.

On instinct, Sam cards his fingers through Bucky’s hair and feels him shiver with pleasure.

“Now it’s better,” mumbles Bucky, leaning into the touch of his hand. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Anytime, baby,” murmurs Sam, and Bucky shivers again.

[indecisive-dizzy]

Wanna watch me ramble about Frank and Eddie's Parenting for Much Too Long? No? Too bad here it is anyway!

I see a lot of interpretations of Frank and Eddie as parents where Eddie is the more lenient parent while Frank is more strict. But what if it was the other way around?

Update: ok. this just turned into me talking about their flaws as parents,, oh well that's cool to think about to

Frank's "not afraid to get dirty" attitude could lend itself to him being a parent who would let his kid go about and explore (with appropriate supervision and reasonable curfew of course) and overall have more faith in them to not get in too much trouble. Curfew to him is an agreed upon time between him and the teen, so about 10-11pm, maybe 12am if they're old enough and it's not a school night. He's far less likely to ground or take away privileges if they get into trouble (unless it's school but I'll get to that), usually turning it into a learning opportunity. Maybe restricting curfew if necessary.

Eddie on the other hand, has some worry wort tendencies and would be Terrified of his babies going out on their own, even if they're supervised by a friend's parent. His idea of a weekend curfew is 7-8pm and he needs a phone call or text every hour. or maybe every half hour. And when they do get into trouble he is the first to lecture them. He's more likely to want to ground or take privileges entirely, not just change curfew. Eddie's fine with after school stuff because knows a Teacher will be there and it's a school program/function. Though field trips and prom still make him a nervous wreck.

Frank hardly gets to lecture the kid(s) because Eddie gets to it first. the only time he does is when Eddie gets Too Upset or overwhelmed and Frank's worried he'll start yelling at them.

Though Frank's not without flaw either. Frank is more concerned with grades than Eddie is. He's more likely to pressure them By Accident and bring up college a lot when they're older. Eddie on the other hand never went to college, and knowing the American school system, he probably had more 'C's than 'A's despite how smart he really is. So Eddie is less concerned with perfect grades and believes if the kid doesn't want to go to college they shouldn't be pressured into it.

I won't go too in depth but I don't think Frank did many extracurriculars in high school. Meanwhile Eddie was getting into all sorts of activities. So when their child's grades have been slipping, Frank is the one to bring up taking them out of their extracurriculars "so they can focus on their grades." To which Eddie responds with a very firm No because he knows how much extracurriculars can mean to a kid.

Frank is also more strict with chores and such. Their room needs to be clean before they go anywhere, they make their bed every day, etc. Eddie is on board, but he understands Organized Chaos and that sometimes it takes a few extra minutes to get up and start a chore. (ADHD and Depression let's go babyy) Though he is stern about getting them done by a certain time (like before dinner). Frank would rather it be done sooner/when told.

In conclusion, Frank doesn't mean to pressure them so much, and Eddie doesn't mean to be so overbearing. They're great parents, but no one is perfect. I think they'd learn and grow overtime especially with each other to bounce off of and rely on. So in the end they turn out to be great parents whose kid(s) call and visit regularly when they're adults.

[sysig]

It always seems like such a good idea in the moment (Patreon)

The first four are in reference to a great idea I had of - since I’ve finished my lower-limit page number testing for making books; shorter fics take up less page space, and just increasing the font size isn’t as handsome! - simply making a mini book! All it would take would be to halve the pages again, right? Just cut them right down the middle! Easy peasy!

As I’m sure you can tell by the second, no. Not easy peasy. Difficult painful un-fun >:(

Obviously I still did it tho! What do you take me for, someone who could have the idea of an even tinier book and then not do something about it?? No It’s also the only one so far to have a paper bookmark rather than a ribbon!

All told it’s a bit smaller than your average manga (I love the monochrome covers on these under their dust jackets haha <3) - you can see even with effectively doubling up the pages by halving their size, it was still very small-spined!

A quick shot while it was still being made hehe ♪ It’s Out! Paired here - and the earlier one, just without its dust jacket haha - with my Zarla SC2 collection (ft. Family, Negotiations are Going...Well, and With No Obligation) - I absolutely kicked myself after the fact for not including Out as the run-up to everything, I was really trying to make a full collection in probably-chronological order! Out would’ve been a perfect start! And it only would’ve taken like four pages!!

Ah well, it was still quite a learning experience - I probably wouldn’t make another standalone of under 4k-ish just for formatting reasons but I did get some good ideas of how to do so if I wanted to! Although, my next project is going to be even more of a formatting nightmare........I’ll get there when I get there! Lol

[molagboop]

I just think it would be fun to make Raven Beak smooch Samus' other dads.

[loregoddess]

I think? I think I figured out a workaround around my mental block about reading for fun

since my main block was I couldn't focus on the text if it was too noisy, after much contemplation I went and found an audiobook so I could read along as I listened

(audio alone I can't do bc I will zone out but if I have something to look at this isn't an issue, and if I can't do text alone bc of background noise then maybe purposeful noise would help cover up the background noise <--my train of logic in developing this hypothesis).

And like? I'm a little over 100 pages into The Fellowship of the Ring, so it seems to be working.

[idrawsometimes]

hello everyone if i was hypothetically writing a fic about my yiga paya (part of the chain reaction au, her tag is #cr paya) would any of you be interested in beta reading

[rumor-weed]

i’m sorry VOTER FRAUD?

IN MY VEGGIETALES?

it’s more likely than you’d think...

[misuutira]

I have a sudden, primal, and insatiable urge to read a fanfiction where the gang is playing DND together. 

Like, I wanna see Lewis getting immersed in his role as the Dungeon Master, spending weeks before their first session carefully crafting the lore of the world and weaving together everyone’s backstories seamlessly (he plots it all out on a murder board with all those multi-colored strings). I wanna roll my eyes at Emma being a die-hard minmaxer and strategist who plays to the most optimal win conditions, even if it takes out some of the fun. I wanna laugh at Rikki diving fist-first into combat, only to be held back by a chagrined Emma who is just tired of her antics. I wanna relate to Bella, who has no clue what she’s doing, just in it for the story, and having fun regardless. I wanna shake my head in amusement as Cleo attempts to befriend literally EVERY NPC, even if they’re not essential to the plot, because it’s just common courtesy. I wanna see Charlotte watch on the sideline while drawing elaborate art of everyone’s characters to give to them at the end of the campaign as a surprise (they end up loving it). 

I wanna see Zane get roped into the whole mess because of Rikki, hate it at first, then become the most invested and highest leveled character in the campaign.

But that means I would have to write it myself and it would stay in my drafts for all of eternity collecting dust without satisfying said sudden, primal, and insatiable urge. :’)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...