#spotify drabble asks

[hippolotamus]

Song 44 for a spotify inspired drabble please? If possible to Buddie? If not any ship is good!

Hello, friend!!!!! I thought for sure yours would be sad but the words took a very different direction. Also it's not even remotely drabble length... *shrugs*

Buck doesn’t remember exactly when the dreams started, just that it was sometime during his 1.0 phase. Like his subconscious realized before he did that sleeping around wasn’t cutting it. That he craved something deeper and more complex than purely physical relationships.

The first time he brushes the experience off as odd, but not necessarily unwelcome. He remembers “waking up” in his dream, laying in his bed. The thing that makes this different is the sense of calm and belonging. The feeling of being wanted. As far as he can tell, he isn’t imagining anyone else with him, yet he still feels like he’s being held. Truthfully, it’s nice. 

Night after night the dreams continue whether he’s at home or the station. Then, when he least expects it, they suddenly change. The entity cocooning around him begins to take on more shape, progressing with every sleep until there’s a fully formed person. 

The revelation, however intriguing, is frustrating because he isn’t allowed to see them. Whoever it is has strong arms, is about the same height, and holds him so close. Like Buck is the most precious person to exist. Sometimes he swears he can feel warm breath tickling the back of his neck. 

And then Buck begins dating Abby. As he spends the night more often, the dreams stop. He would be lying if he said that didn't bother him. Buck is happy with Abby – she’s sweet, beautiful, and the sex is nothing to complain about – but there’s something missing. It creates a persistent longing. An ache for a person who only exists in his dreams. Kinda pathetic when he thinks about it. That doesn’t stop the flood of relief when Abby leaves and the dreams begin again as if they never stopped.

Now, though, Buck gets more details. This person – man – has soft, chestnut hair; cheekbones that could probably cut glass;  thick, dark eyelashes; and a hint of stubble Buck longs to trace with this thumb and have it be real. He’s beautiful. A term Buck’s never really considered in terms of the guys he’s found attractive, but it fits here. 

The man always appears peaceful and unburdened, though not completely. As if there’s an undercurrent of worry that only leaves when he’s asleep. 

Buck starts to question his own sanity when he finds himself longing to soothe whatever is bothering his… person. If he didn’t think it would get him sent straight back to the department therapist he would say something to Bobby. And he’s not sure if he can take it to Hen either. So he keeps it to himself, researching anything he can find. Needless to say the results are disappointing. Every promising article or forum posting leads to an eventual dead end. He begins to consider that he may never have an explanation. 

~

“Now that is a beautiful man,” Chim exclaims.

“Where’s the lie? And I like girls,” Hen adds. 

Buck whips around to see who they’re talking about, nearly dropping his phone in the process. 

“Holy shit,” he murmurs. “It’s him.”

send me 1-100 and i'll write you a drabble based on the corresponding song

[sugawhaaa]

🥀HAN ONE-SHOT🥀

🍄•♡°[ trust me ]°♡•🍄

Warnings//genre:: SMUT! Mentions blood, Virginity loss, FLUFF, oral (f rec) fingering (f rec) handjob, body exploration, body worship, sm praise bro, protective hannie, protected sex,

Pairing:: SOFT!dom!Han x sub!virgin!fem!reader

A/N:: bro I wrote this in like...three hours but I think it's the best fanfic I have EVER written. Like he is so fucking sweet I wanna kiss him

Skz masterlist:: 💕

🎧::

Things between you and Han progressed surprisingly fast throughout your entire relationship thus far. You thought Han would like things to be slow paced but, once again, surprisingly he was the opposite. That's why you weren't overly shocked when he abruptly asked about having sex.

"I know this is kind of abrupt but we've been dating for a while so I was thinking maybe we could try..." He's very tense as he asks you, nervous to see your reaction. "Having sex? If you wanna," The way he asked made you feel so important somehow, like this wouldn't happen without your enthusatic consent.

"I mean I'd love to, but," You pause for a moment and Han looks intruiged, showing that you have all his attention. "I'm a virgin," You sigh and Han looks taken aback.

"Really?" There's a long pause as he processes what you said. "That is surprising..." He chuckles and you laugh at his comment. "I just thought, you know, you're so beautiful and attractive that some man must've approached you by this point," He explains and you shrug, not bothering to touch on the subject of other men. "I don't mind by the way! I could be your first, show you the ropes, and I'll be oh so gentle," He promises with a confident nod. "But I will wait until you are ready,"

"I never said I wasn't ready," You smile and he looks at you, wide-eyed, and his cheeks flushed.

"So...Do you wanna..?" He smirks, trying to contain his excitement. You nod and he smiles sincerely. "Okay, wow this is exciting okay," he chuckles nervously and shifts on the bed to face you. He takes your hands tenderly in his. "Are you sure?" He confirms and you nod.

"Absolutely," you smile and he blushes softly. "I can't think of another person I'd want to be my first, experiencing something like this with you has honestly been my dream, my fantasy, everything," you blush and look down as you confess your inner feelings. "I trust you," you keep eye contact with and he smiles sincerely.

"Thank you Y/N," he lifts your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. "Let's get you nice and comfortable first," Han gets you to stand up while he fixes the bed, making sure the sheets are flat without a single crease. He then turns the lights out before turning on the fairy lights in the room, creating dim and warm lighting for an intimate and romantic night. He then turns to face you again. "Now, shall we undress?" He smiles and you can't help but blush at his care for your first time, all his efforts to make you comfortable. "I'll start," he takes off his shirt and tosses it aside in the pile of laundry. He holds your hips and guides you to sit on the bed as he finishes undressing. "Should I go all the way or just to my boxers?" He smiles down at you and you giggle.

"Mmm all the way," you smirk slightly and he laughs.

"Alright my little minx," he kisses your forehead quickly before pulling down his sweatpants. You watch as the baggy fabric falls to reveal his toned legs, his thighs muscular from lots of training, but what draws your attention the most is the bulge in his boxers.

You had seen his bulge before, whether it was intentional or not. Almost every morning it's hard to keep your eyes off his crotch. "Do you wanna do the honors?" He offers and you blush, a little flustered by the offer but you can't deny that you want to. You hook your thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pull them down, watching his cock slip out of its confinement. Your face flushes as you see him for the first time, your lip subconsciously tucking between your teeth.

He rubs your head teasingly, ruffling your hair. "Like what you see?" He jokes and you huff at him. "I'm teasing," he caresses your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the squishy skin he loves so much. He then sits down beside you. "Would you like to...touch me a little or undress first?" He puts a hand to your back, offering comfort.

"I guess I'll undress a little," you nod and take off your shirt and pants, leaving you in your undergarments. You notice hans eyes chasing your breasts as you set your shirt aside.

"Fuck..." he mutters softly and it draws your attention. "Sorry, sorry," he puts his hands up in surrender as his cock follows suit, standing up. You chuckle softly, brushing him off.

"Don't apologize, I like it when you get flustered," you nod before your eyes flutter down to his length, standing proud and tall as it twitches against his stomach. "Is it okay if I touch you?" You bring your hand to hover over his most intimate area.

"Y-Yeah, of course, baby, I'm all yours," he leans back a little, his arms propped up behind him, exposing his cock to you. You hesitate before making contact with his cock. You can feel the throb of his heat, the silkiness of his skin, the wetness of his arousal, it's all so erotic and enticing. He moans softly, his head tossed and hair falling back, before chuckling softly. "Your hands are so soft...I've waited so long to feel you baby," he smiles blissfully as you continue to explore him.

You feel around his hardness, taking in the size and length of it, and watch it twitch in your palms. You then shift your hand into an O shape and slip his cock through the hole. He lets out a shaky breath before smiling. "That's good, yeah," he moans lowly, his voice raspy in pleasure. You felt your blood rushing at the sight of him like this, hearing his moans and praise got you so excited. He brings a hand up to your head, playing with your hair. "You're so good to me," his eyes fluttered shut in bliss. "Go a little faster, please," he chuckles in embarrassment at his request. "Fuck, yes like that," he praises as your hand moves faster, effortlessly gliding thanks to his precum.

You began to feel more bold and confident in your performance thanks to his praise and reactions. Before you know it his body is twitching and acting on its own. "Keep going," he encourages, gripping the sheets next to him hard. You weren't sure what else to do so you just kept jerking him off faster and faster until he started letting out these guttural groans. "Shit! I'm cumming baby," he cries out his head thrown all the way back as his back arches, his legs twitching slightly.

Cum spurts out onto your hands and a rush of excitement courses through you. The lewdness of feeling someone else's cum on your hands and seeing him reach such a high peak due to your ministrations was indescribably arousing.

Eventually, he calms down, his breathing evening out as he chuckles sincerely. "You did so fucking good babygirl," he holds the side of your face to kiss you deeply as a reward. At first, the kiss catches you off guard but you fall into it, bringing a cum coated hand up to his shoulder. Your tongues mingle and twist around each other as he leans in closer to you. He rubs your thigh softly with his free hand before pulling back, his hand still lingering. He looks up into your eyes and you can tell exactly what he'll ask next. "You ready?" He tilts his head, his fingers drawing closer to your panties.

"I'm ready, more than ready," you blush, the puddle of wetness in your panties now obvious. He throws your thighs around his waist and he picks you up. He sets you on the bed, laying back against the plush pillows he coordinated to support and comfort you. He gently helps you remove your undergarments, making sure you feel worshipped along the way.

"You have such perfect tits," he admires your breasts after removing your bra, gently cupping the soft flesh. "So soft," he kisses your nipple softly making you release a little squeak at the new sensation. After giving your tits a little attention he moves lower, giving tender kisses to your tummy. He peels off your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aside. You reflexively cross your legs, hiding your vulnerability. "Hey, hey, don't be shy now baby," he brings his hands to your knees, prying your legs open.

"I'm embarrassed," you admit and he stops, looking up at you sincerely.

"Why babygirl? I've been waiting for this for way too long," he whines and you chuckle softly.

"I just...I didn't shave or anything because I didn't know we'd be doing this anytime soon..." you explain and Han sighs, thinking of how to respond.

"Listen...I don't really care," he explains, instantly making your expression change. "If it makes you feel more comfortable to shave you go right ahead baby, but if you're shaving on my part or if you are simply embarrassed because you haven't shaved, don't," Jisung nods determinedly and you blush, a smile creeping upon your lips. "Now, can I please see this pretty pussy?" He looks up at you with lust-filled and desperate eyes. You nod with a smile and he smiles back, proud that you are now comfortable with him.

He pulls your legs apart to reveal your dripping cunt, he doesn't even pay mind to the curly hair there, more focused on the slickness of your folds. "Fuck baby," he moans before running a finger up your folds. "Look at this," he says in awe, loving the way you respond to him. "So wet, so cute," he brings his thumb up to your clit, rubbing little circles on it. "What do you want me to do babygirl? Finger you or eat you out?" He tilts his head, resting the side of his head against your inner thigh as he continues to play with your clit.

"Maybe...both?" You smirk playfully and he chuckles.

"Should've guessed huh?" He places a gentle kiss to your clit making you gasp softly. "Don't be afraid to pull my hair baby, I know you're gonna want to," he slithers a finger down to your slit, guiding it between your tight folds. "Deep breaths baby," he encourages, his words slightly muffled by your pussy. You nod and take in long breaths. His finger trails in deep, roaming around your insides, familiarizing himself with your tender spots.

He takes a long time, taking a lot of care into finding all those spots and paces you like before actually fingering you.

He curls to fingers simultaneously against that squishy spot that makes you squirm as his tongue flicks your clit but he takes a pause to speak. "If it's too much just tell me okay?" He quickly resumes his ministrations as you whimper and sob.

"O-Okay," you tug on his hair, the silver strands lacing around your fingers. You let out a loud whimper and blush at your own sounds, sounding so pathetic and lewd.

"Keep doing that, moan for me," he groans, getting lost in lust and falling drunk to your cunt. He fingers you faster, a bit harder as well, seeking more music to his ears. You finally cave in, embracing your lust and moaning into the quiet room.

"Jisung, I-I think..." you bite your lip, unsure of how to confess such a sensation.

"You getting close?" He finishes your statement for you and you nod, your lips quivering as your brows curl up. He sucks on your clit, the room filling with slurping sounds and the sound of your pussy sucking in his fingers. You feel this warmth trickling up your body as your head goes fuzzy, your body lightly twitching from the sensation. Your hips buck up reflexively and Han pulls you through the orgasm, drawing out every last strand of pleasure, before pulling back. "How was that?" He smiles and you're left panting, your head reeling.

"Fucking...insane..." you pant out and laugh softly, the rush of hormones making you feel above the clouds. He laughs at your fucked out state before kissing your forehead.

"Such a good little minx," he pats your hip softly, a form of praise. "Do you need a break or shall we keep moving?"

"I wanna keep going, I've never felt so good," you explain and Han creeps up closer to you, hovering above you.

"I'm so glad angel," he caresses your cheek. "I'm so glad I get to see you feel like this for the first time. The way your lips part, your body twitches, your eyes squinting shut, your little cries, they're everything to me," he rests his forehead against yours as he speaks softly. As he speaks you feel his cock nudging against your lower abdomen, hinting that he's growing impatient but he will always wait for you.

"Trust me Jisung, I wouldn't change a thing in my life as long as I got to be with you," you kiss him softly and he smiles bashfully.

"Please Y/N...let me please you," he reaches over to the nightstand, searching through the bottom drawer for a condom packet. He sits back on his knees, his cock standing up and front. He holds the packet between his teeth and tears it open, tossing the wrapper somewhere in the room, before rolling the condom on with ease. "It may hurt a little at first but I promise I'll take it slow," he lines his sealed cock up to your slit. "Ready?"

"Mhm," you nod, eagerly waiting for the impending sensation to take over you. He gently pushes his hips forward and the two of you moan in sync.

"Fuck," he curses as his cock makes it only about halfway through your pussy. "How are you doing?"

"It kinda hurts but I can push through," you nod, gripping his shoulders tight. He takes one of your hands, intertwining it with his.

"Squeeze it," he nods before pushing his hips forward again. You let out a cry, squeezing his hand hard as you feel him filling you up.

"Fuck," you curse loudly. "It hurts but it feels so fucking good," you throw your head back, your hand trembling as you squeeze his hand.

"Deep breaths babygirl," he then thrusts forward, his cock filling you up. You jump, back arched, at the sudden increase in intensity. "Shh, Shh, it's all in baby," he kisses your lower jaw softly. "You're doing so good," he rubs your thigh. At first, Jisung moves slowly, allowing you plenty of time to adjust, but the condom helps lube you up a lot and soothe the muscles. As soon as he begins to slowly thrust your head spins.

"Is it supposed to feel this intense," you chuckle as sweat builds along your forehead.

"I know it's a lot at first but trust me, I'll make you feel so good," he promises softly as his hips skillfully roll against yours. You claw at his back, your nails digging in as you fall to the overwhelming pleasure. You let out cracked moans and Jisung finds it hard to hold back, craving you more and more as he thrusts into you gently, but the he hears the most reassuring words he could possibly ask for in this situation.

"Faster~"

Your voice was soft, a quiet yet desperate plea and Jisung is not one to deny a lady of her wishes. He moves his hips faster, falling to his own lust. He thrusts harder, deeper, faster, all the things to make your head spin. Your body begins to shake as you let out squeals of incoherent lust and everything just comes pouring out of the two of you.

"Oh yes fuck baby!" He groans as he unloads into the condom, hips twitching into yours. The two of you ramble incoherent lewd words at the overwhelming pleasure before slowly coming down together. "So tight," he groans.

"Fuck Jisungie," your body goes limp against the bed, your body still trembling from the intensity of the orgasm. He pets your head sincerely, feeling the softness of the locks.

"You did so good," he breathes out. "I suppose I should pull out just in case," he chuckles before pulling out, you could hear your pussy clinging to him as he eased out. He removes the condom, tossing it in the bin next to your bed. "I'll throw that out properly later, way too fucked up right now. Besides I need to take care of you," he smiles before noticing the cum dripping out of your slit, a hue of pink in it, but you were unaware. "Um this is kind of awkward but just so you know you're bleeding a bit," he says as he sits up next to you, pulling you into his lap.

"Shit really? You think it's from my hymen?" You blush, hiding in his chest.

"Don't be embarrassed, and probably," he nods and you sigh. "Let's get you in the shower, kay?" He scoops you up in his arms and you gasp at how effortlessly he lifts you. "Maybe I can please you some more in there, hm?"

[jamminvroomvroom]

4 with lando :)))

flashing lights - kanye west (respect the art not the artist!)

LN4 x reader

tysm for the request xoxo!! finally continuing my requests (sorry it took ages whoops) flipped my list and went from the bottom for this bc otherwise we were gonna have some repeats lol

images below from pinterest - i claim no ownership 🙃

warnings: none! some swearing, some fluff, lando being a funny little camera shy pr machine - but fr minors pls just dni with my work okay tysm!!!

lando was frantically pacing your apartment when you walked in, eyes wild, as if he hadn’t slept, and hair an absolute disheveled state. his usually sun-kissed skin seemed to get even paler when he heard the door shut behind you, coming to a halt in your kitchen and staring at you as though he’d seen a ghost.

“lando?” you questioned, confused as to, a) why he was here so early, and b) why he looked like he was about to confess that he had killed your entire bloodline.

“baby, i’m so sorry.” your blood ran cold. what had he done? he closed the space between you, tentatively taking your hands.

“lando… what’s going on?” you tilted your head, starting to sweat in your oversized leather jacket. you’d just been out running errands, picking up bits for the dinner you were supposed to be sharing with the mclaren driver, much later in the day.

“i didn’t think anyone had seen us but then i had my assistant, the entire pr department and my mother phoning me, and then max called and said that him and pietra wanted to see if we were okay, before i could call anyone else back which confused the fuck outta me, so i finally checked twitter and there it was and i just got in the car and came here but god, i’m so sorry.” lando finally exhaled, looking like he was about to pass out, with creases so deep on his forehead that you thought they’d stay there permanently.

“okay, lando? sweetheart? yeah, okay i’m gonna need a bit more info.” you over enunciated each word, stressing that you were still in the absolute dark about whatever was on the verge of sending him into cardiac arrest.

“there’s photos. of us. kissing.” he finally said, quietly, and after a good ten seconds of staring at you in utter fear.

“fucking hell, i thought something terrible had happened. jesus christ, lando.” you exhaled, eyes wide. he stared at you like you’d grown a second head, stepping forward to mockingly rest his hand against your forehead as if he was checking your temperature.

“are you… are you… okay?” lando asked, eyebrow quirked. he was shocked at how calm you were.

you’d both agreed to keep your relationship private, and over the last five months, that had gone swimmingly well. but some low quality photos taken, as you waited for some friends outside a restaurant in the outskirts of london, had fucking launched the cat out of the bag.

“how bad are the pictures? are we naked or something?” you scoffed at him and now lando was truly confused.

“no, but- but i thought we were gonna keep this quiet.” he murmured.

“i know, baby, but okay, it’s out. is that really so bad? it was bound to happen eventually.” you reasoned, and lando finally saw your point.

“i just want to protect you, from all of the lights and the flashing cameras. love you too much to lose you to those vultures.” lando dipped his forehead against yours as he spoke, eyes locked on yours. you couldn’t help but smile at him, the loveliest man you could have wished for.

“oh, my sweet, sweet boy,” you crooned, pecking his lips. “you know i love to show off.” he laughed at that, a low rumbling in his chest.

you pulled away, stepping around him and walking further into your apartment, dropping all of your stuff down in your kitchen.

“anyways, i already saw the pictures. we look hot.” you ignored his incredulous ‘what?’, waving him off. “now, come here and help me make dinner.”

[hazelira]

ENHYPEN Masterlists | socials

Baby Masterlist | @luvilists | vent page

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

My Tumblr Music Playlist:

HEESEUNG

Waiting for a Dream

Eternal Moonlight | @bywons event

blue - keshi

Wrong Person, Right Time

Beneath the Cold

anchored in silence

the way we left it ft. Sunoo | @luvilists

cravings & regrets | requested by @leilamaybelyla

cursed to be unloved | requested by anonymous

more than 143 | part 2 | requested by @wonbinceps @ijustwannareadstuff20 @toreadsomething @gyarumindd @mheretoreadff @heeaara

JAY

Healing Hearts, Bringing Souls

drunk - keshi ft. members

rope to nowhere

the weight we share

quiet afternoons

only for you

respawned feelings

rain check | requested by @saphiranishimurashan

JAKE

The Girl Before The One

right here - keshi

in the eyes of a wallflower

one more day of you ft. members

frosted glass

when love feels like goodbye

SUNGHOON

Echoes of a Once Heartbeat

Soaring Skies & Hidden :)s | inspired by @dearhooonie

like i need u - keshi

𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒 ft. Heeseung

second chances

in the quiet of your touch

yours, finally

enough | requested by @leilamaybelyla

SUNOO

After The One

I’m not cute! ft. members | @luvilists

atlas - keshi

memories of sunshine

𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 (no pic yet)

the way we left it ft. Heeseung | @luvilists

Hard to Love | requested by @leilamaybelyla

crimson ft. Jungwon | @luvilists

JUNGWON

Lost in the What Ifs

beside you - keshi

fragile embrace

fainted confessions

almost lovers, forgotten promises

never again | requested by anonymous

crimson ft. Sunoo | @luvilists

NI-KI

Through the Storm

skeletons - keshi

花吐き病 -> hanahaki disease

healing wounds

at least, once

you left me in a future I built alone | hbd fic for @pinkglitterpuke

If you liked my stories, reblogging, liking and adding comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

©hazelira, all work is written by me, do not copy or repost or translate.

[follow-the-compass-home]

84!

This only took me like a month or whatever but hey, I did it! I love this song, the lyrics are very oughh and make me think of my friends. This is from a roommates AU I never wrote 'cause of lack of time but they basically end up becoming roommates by accident and rent the same apartment.

84. Bart’s Bike by Bears In Trees

Grian blinks awake when his head slips from his hand.

He looks around and finds Cleo still with her hands on the wheel, bickering about something or other with Etho, who’s on the backseat. Grian stretches and looks out the window. The traffic is just as bad as it had been when he’d fallen asleep, who knew how long ago.

“Oh! Look who’s awake!” Cleo exclaims, tapping her fingers on the wheel.

“Grian, want some chips- or, eh, what do you call them?” Etho shoves a bag of crisps onto his hands.

“Crisps. Yes, thanks.” Grian puts his hand in and grabs a small bunch that he just shoves into his mouth. “Where did you get them?”

“He got off and walked,” Cleo says.

“Traffic’s that bad?” Grian looks out the window again.

“We’re not grocery shopping during the holidays ever again.” Cleo grunts.

“Hey, at least we’re on our way home now!” Etho says as he shoves his head between the two front seats.

“Etho! I told you to stop doing that! It’s distracting me while driving!” Cleo yells, pushing him back again.

“You can hardly call this driving!” Etho retorts.

Grian smiles and leans back into his seat. He definitely couldn’t have asked for better roommates.

[a-sound-sol]

For the wrapped drabble thing, how about umm Kaminari Denki and if you are willing to do ships then shinkami for the number uhhhhh 26 yeah let's go with that

"Would you leave when it gets hard?”

m. list

song as inspo: the end by halsey synopsis: shinsou struggles with accepting the love he deserves. a/n: i love being a multishipper bc fuck these two are so cute dsjhsdhj

“Shin, what’s going on in your head? Lost in my eyes or something?” Denki jokes. 

But Hitoshi feels his heart race at the sound of his boyfriend’s words. 

“I’m sorry if I push you away sometimes.” He blurts out. 

Denki raises his eyebrows. “An apology for something you have every right to do after what you’ve experienced? You idiot.” 

His voice is soft and light like the drops of rain falling around them. 

“I’m here for the long-haul, Shin. So shut up and get used to me, no more pointless apologizing.” Denki smiles.

Hitoshi's cheeks turn red. 

Peace, at last. 

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

Oooo maybe 83 (2+81) for loscar?

You've got it!

83. Kiss The Sky (from The Wild Robot) by Maren Morris

Logan wasn't going to lie. He was kind of scared.

Okay, not kind of. Really scared.

He had no idea what the future would bring.

Maybe he'd do great in ELMS. Or maybe he'd crash and burn yet again. Maybe he wouldn't leave an impression at all, doing just enough not to get fired but never enough to truly succeed.

Even though the deal was done, he knew where he'd be racing next year, he still sat up at night thinking. Worrying. What if he still wasn't good enough?

That was what he was doing now, when Oscar stepped into the bedroom. He was turned away from the door, so he only heard Oscar moving around the room. When he finally joined him on the bed and wrapped his arms around him, he pressed closer to his touch.

"Something on your mind?" Oscar asked softly. Logan made a noncommittal sound. He was afraid his fears would seem silly to Oscar, who had always had a bright future. Where Logan had struggled, Oscar had soared. It made him feel like it had to all be in his own head. Why was he making it such a big deal?

He just wanted his future to be secure. To be safe. Just for once. Was that too much to ask?

Even though he didn't say a word, Oscar seemed to guess what was on his mind anyway. He pressed a kiss to his neck, tilting his head to whisper in his ear.

"I know you're scared, Logan," he said softly. "And that's okay. It's okay if you aren't, too. As long as you're happy with the path you're taking."

Logan exhaled softly. "I am," he said. "But I'm scared, too. What if . . . what if I fail again?"

Oscar hugged him tighter. "You didn't fail before, okay? You just found something that didn't quite work for you. Maybe this'll be better. Maybe it'll open new doors. But you'll never know if you never try, y'know?"

Logan absorbed his words. However scared he was, his boyfriend was right. His fears were valid. But if he ever wanted to conquer them, he had to look them in the eye and rise above them.

He could succeed. He just had to be brave.

He curled closer to Oscar, closing his eyes. He'd lived with caution the past few months, afraid to make a mistake or a wrong choice. Afraid to ruin his future because he wasn't cautious enough.

But the time for caution was over.

He could still spread his wings and fly. He knew it.

Oscar held him close, the one who made him feel lighter and braver.

Logan would be okay. Brave or scared, things would work out, and he would be okay.

[nevertheblood]

66 + dazango !!! 👀 teehee

hello. so, uh. this got so far away from me that I think it is not a drabble anymore or even anything close to it.

the problem is that this song is so damn perfect for dazango-- I actually SCREECHED when I opened my spotify to check it.

and then as usual for me I went on a 'let's emotionally torture ango sakaguchi' runaway train and... here we are.

I may post this to ao3 once it's been proofread lol THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WRITING IT!

probably OOC since it's unbeta'd and i wrote it in two days but ANYWAYS HERE--

dazango x never say die by chvrches ~~

Wasn't it gonna be fun and wasn't it gonna be new?

Wasn't it gonna be different and wasn't it gonna be true?

Didn't you say that? Didn't you say that?

Weren't you gonna be sorry and weren't you gonna be pure?

Weren't we gonna be honest and weren't we gonna be more?

Didn't you say that? Didn't you say that?

All you want is to play at playing God

But I'm falling in and falling out

Never, never, never ever

Never ever, ever say die

“You lied to me.”

It’s not a question. Ango doesn’t ask how he found out – Dazai always knows, somehow or other.

Ango also knows better by now than to make excuses.

“Yes,” he says. “Or rather – obfuscated the truth.”

“They are the same thing,” Dazai says, “When you make your business out of deceit.”

Ango sees his point, but really… it was an inconsequential thing. Sort of.

He’d told Dazai he’d be out of town for a meeting – that much was true. He’d neglected to mention that it was overseas, with one of the Port Mafia’s subsidiaries in Hong Kong.

What does it matter? Dazai is years out of the mafia. His dealings with them, and for the most part Ango’s as well, are a thing that lives only in memory, steeping silently in regret and anger all the while.

It’s not any of Dazai’s business, what Ango does for work. Shouldn’t be anyone’s business, given the layers and layers of secrecy involved. 

It was just a meeting. Surface level intelligence gathering, that was all – no deals, no tricks, no subterfuge.

Dazai’s been four years out of the mafia, it’s true, but his eyes, right now – they carry that same cold steel as back then, the bite of a bullet, the only light therein the flash of a gun’s muzzle.

He is angry.

“I know that we have… a certain arrangement,” Ango says carefully. He doesn’t really know what to call it, the thing that exists so nebulously between he and Dazai. The two of them meet somewhere at a crossroads of misplaced trust and hotel bedsheets and guilty mouths and festering, rotted bitterness. “But my work is my work. It is separate from… what goes on between us.”

Dazai touches his cheek, the gentleness a startling counterpoint to the violence in his eyes, and Ango leans into it, a flower to the sun. It’s perhaps a little pathetic, the way he still takes in every scrap of affection from Dazai like a starving street dog begging for food, the way he craves it and hates himself for craving it. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s worked so hard to earn forgiveness and he still doesn’t deserve it.

“You promised me,” Dazai says softly, the thrum of his anger a quiet undertone, a subtle purr, a getaway car’s engine. “When we began this whole thing – that you would be transparent with me.”

“I am,” Ango insists, “To the best of my ability. You must know, with my work, that there are certain things that I cannot tell you. That I am honour-bound to secrecy.”

“Honour-bound?” Dazai’s low laughter causes something deep in Ango’s belly to burn, shameful, like a brand. “What honour can you say you have left?”

That’s cruel. Unnecessarily cruel, and it's not even wholly true. Ango wants to tell him so, to make him feel the same remorse – he knows it’s not possible, Dazai does not concern himself with guilt and he has never once looked for redemption – but even so, didn’t they cast this aside, when Dazai gave Ango the keys to his heart? Doesn’t Dazai love him, even a little bit?

He doesn’t have an answer to that. And he knows, of course, that he is without honour, without pride, so he stays silent.

“You promised me,” Dazai says again, and – is his voice cracking?

Ango hardly understands it at first. The emotion that has poisoned Dazai’s very veins ever since the Mimic incident – it has always been anger, cold and vicious and calm, murderous intent behind a blithe smile. Toxin in the blood, flowing downstream.

Ango has never once seen Dazai with sadness in his eyes.

“I really thought, this time – this time it would be different. You promised – ”

He is only repeating the same words, over and over, almost like a naïve child who is feeling the unfairness of heartbreak for the very first time. It doesn’t make sense. Dazai is not –

But then. Dazai had been merely eighteen, the first time. A boy, really. No matter how boldly he had worn the heavy black mantle of a mafia executive, that was all he had been, in the heart of him. A boy, who lost his best friend.

Four years down the line, he had only wanted something real to believe in. Something solid and honest and true.

And Ango had – once again – betrayed that fragile trust.

He can feel everything he's worked for, over the last four years, every time he’s put his life or his job or his self-respect on the line for Dazai, to crudely shape himself into something that might be worthy of forgiveness, of love, slipping away all too fast – sand into the bottom of an hourglass.

But it's different this time. It has to be.

He slips his hand into Dazai’s, where it had been resting at his side, and tries to curl their fingers together.

“Dazai,” Ango says, “I – it means nothing, I know. But for what it’s worth – I’m sorry.”

Dazai’s hand remains still and unmoving.

“I knew you would be angry,” Ango keeps trying, all the same. “That I had had dealings with the Port Mafia again, even indirectly. I knew that you would question me about it and that there would be certain answers I could not give, even to you. I wasn’t…” He takes a deep breath, here, the flinch before the inevitable pain of the honesty. “I wasn’t prepared for that conversation. And so I avoided it, like a coward. You are right to be angry. I do not blame you for that.”

Dazai stays silent. Ango isn't sure if there's a light of hope in his eyes or if it's the shine of unshed tears. Somehow he isn't as shocked by the idea of Dazai crying as he perhaps ought to be.

So many people think of Dazai as a cold machine, especially anyone who knew him in the mafia, but Dazai feels. Of course he does. That's Ango's whole issue. It’s only that... well. Used to being on the receiving end of nothing but Dazai's anger, his petty bitterness, Ango had allowed himself to forget that the man is capable of so much more.

“I did promise you that I would do better by you this time, when we began this,” Ango says, “And I… didn’t wholly live up to that, I don’t think. We should have had a conversation about that meeting. I should have known it would hurt you.”

Dazai shakes his head. “You find it too easy to fake it, still. Am I wrong?”

Ango sighs. Lets his shoulders drop heavily. “Maybe. Are you a saint, yourself? Do you ever drop your masks around your new agency friends? Do they know how many you’ve killed?”

Dazai is quiet for a moment. Ango wonders if he’s struck too deep of a nerve, if those tears are still stinging in Dazai’s half-lidded eyes. He does not let go of Dazai’s stubborn hand.

“I also swore to you that I would be better,” Dazai says hoarsely, “That I would let my anger lie, in the interest of building something new.”

Ango runs his thumb over Dazai’s bony knuckles. “That you did.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Dazai’s fingers intersect with his.

Ango gives Dazai’s hand a tentative squeeze, as gentle as though his very bones were glass.

“That's exactly why I'm talking to you right now,” Dazai continues, “And not making arrangements for a bomb hoax at your apartment block.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for that?” Ango remarks dryly. To his quiet delight, that makes Dazai giggle. His eyes squeeze tightly shut when he laughs, and the tears gather in the wrinkle of skin at the corners.

“There's my Ango,” Dazai says softly, and oh, god, lovingly. It makes Ango dizzy.

It's confusing.

“What... what do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Dazai says, “Before you insisted on torturing yourself every time you looked at my face – and believe me, I know I pushed you into it, you don't need to remind me – you were quite unashamedly funny with me, in a disparaging sort of way. I'd missed that wit.” 

“Disparaging?” Ango remembers what Dazai means. Oda would meet Dazai's weirdness head on, and Ango was always the foil for their antics, the one who played it straight. None of it feels real, now. If not for Dazai standing in front of him with the same shared memory, Ango could be convinced it was only something he saw in some tragic play, and not something that he lived. It hurts to remember, still, a broken bone that healed wrong and aches in the cold. “You... liked that?”

“Was it really not obvious at the time?” Dazai's expression turns genuinely thoughtful. “You and he were the breath of fresh air I needed. My reality check when I was at my most insane. I thought it was clear that I worshipped you both.”

Ango suddenly finds it very hard to swallow. “No,” he says, with some difficulty, “I only recall seeing... how you felt for him. And... my own guilt, I think. Whenever you smiled at me I only thought of how I'd have to leave you.”

Neither of them can say his name out loud, even now. They tiptoe around the borders of grief, trying to grow something new from the rot within. Flowers pushing through cold concrete in an abandoned lot. 

“You have always held me at arm's length, haven't you?” Dazai says. Ango can't run away from that accusation, not when he's this close, this tangled up with him.

“I suppose I have,” Ango replies, a touch breathless.

Dazai closes what little distance is left between them and presses their foreheads together, cupping Ango's face with his free hand. Dazai has grown taller, Ango notices, and he has to look up now to see into those pretty dark eyes.

“You can let me in, you know,” Dazai tells him. “For fuck's sake, I gave you my heart, didn't I? Literally. I trust you. I hate that I do, I hate that I still need you, but you have to let yourself need me too or this all falls apart.”

“I do need you,” Ango cries out, squeezing Dazai's hand tighter this time. “I need you too much, that's the problem. I'm...” God, he feels flayed raw by all this. It's too much honesty for two men who make their living in lies. “I'm too afraid of losing you, after everything I've done.”

“Then stop pushing me away,” Dazai says. “Just because – what, you think you aren’t deserving of my affection? Because you’re afraid of the intimacy of letting me see the real you? Forget all that, just forget it.” He drops Ango’s hand and grabs his face with both hands. Deliriously, Ango notes the way Dazai’s smallest finger reaches all the way around to the back of his neck. Had his hands always been so big? “Listen. I know I can be… difficult. I know I can be an asshole. But just – let me have you, you fucker. And let me keep you.”

Let me keep you. Those words set something wild loose in Ango’s heart, something that flails and scratches and stings.

You could have this, it wails, rattling the bars of his ribcage. He wants you to stay.

“Dazai,” Ango says, softly. He tilts his head, leaning into Dazai’s touch. He can’t always tell when the man is being sincere – Oda had a knack for it that Ango never quite grasped – but he drops his pretences often enough around Ango now that he thinks he’s starting to see through them. “Don’t be cruel. Are you teasing me?”

“No,” Dazai answers, looking straight into Ango’s eyes, and the truth in it is so clear that it burns; like lake ice in your palm, a shot of vodka in your throat.

Ango feels it prickle in his skin, his hair, his tongue. He reaches up to curl his hand around Dazai’s wrist, feels the rough gauze of bandages under his fingertips.

Dazai’s lips part to take a breath – and Ango kisses him.

Sharing kisses is not new to them, of course. They began their quiet affair shortly before Dazai’s stint in prison, and continued it without pause after he got out. They have exchanged many kisses, spent many nights in each other’s embrace, but this – this is softer.

Pure, somehow, if that were something either of them were allowed to be.

Dazai pulls Ango closer, arms enfolding him, and Ango falls deeper into it, his hands circling around Dazai’s slim waist, his pretty waist –

It’s a lot. Ango starts to pull away first, still a little unsure, offering Dazai the space to back out.

Dazai, though, drags him back in, hands tangling in his hair, an unequivocal I want you. It’d be kind of an asshole move in any other scenario, but much like most things Dazai does nowadays, it’s an asshole move for the greater good, which means it’s allowed to fly.

Ango spreads his hands flat against Dazai’s chest, as though he means to push him away but knows he won’t. This embrace is all-encompassing, safe in its completeness, Dazai’s tongue tracing the edges of Ango’s teeth; his older, stronger hands cradling Ango’s head.

Dazai’s chest is broader, now, too, than Ango ever remembers it being back then – not that he’d held Dazai like this, in those days. He’d kept him at arm’s length, just like Dazai had said.

Not now. Not this time. Trial and error and trial and error and trial and fucking error it may take, but god damn it, Ango wants to make this work. For the sake of whatever shared legacy the two of them have left, and whatever shared future they might be able to build with the sheer force of this kiss.

Dazai is kissing him so hungrily, so fervently, and in the harsh press of his lips and hands Ango feels a sort of mirror image, the same stubborn need that burns in his own heart.

As soon as I want something it is lost to me? Not this time. Not again.

When they finally draw apart, it’s as one, in a single-minded and mutual exhale of breath.

They’re nose to nose. Dazai’s dark eyes are the colour of whiskey on a polished oak bar.

Kisses aren’t new to them – but kisses that feel like a promise? Kisses that are warm and genuine and offered up in totality alongside a bared soul?

Ango’s heartbeat hums in his throat, behind his soft, wry smile. “Does this mean you’re thinking of forgiving me?”

“Forgiving you?” Dazai almost laughs. “Forgiveness is… complicated. It’s not something I put much stock in, anyway.”

“Then what do you put stock in?”

“The now,” Dazai answers simply. “The present moment, and the people in it.”

“How can you?” Ango says, forlornly. It’s halfway between an accusation and a plea for understanding. How, when our past is such an all-swallowing shadow, the mire that we pushed through to make ourselves who we are?

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Dazai says quickly. “I do not forget. I refuse to. I remember the way things were, and the way they ended.”

Something in the sharp and stubborn way he says it… maybe Dazai, too, is beginning to lose the edges of the memories to time. How, exactly, did Oda’s hair fall in his face again? Ango recalls that his voice sounded different after an hour in a smoky bar, but was it deeper? Scratchier? The details are indistinct, a photograph half-developed, like trying to find the shape of the horizon with the sun in your eyes.

 I do not forget. Even now, Dazai is lying, in a way. But it’s a small lie, one Ango will allow him to keep; to hold close in the secretive dark.

“Still,” Dazai says. He takes a breath in, and seems to centre himself again. He doesn’t bother with the happy-go-lucky fake smile, the one that barely even hides the outline of his pain, a thin veneer of paint over scratches in the walls. He knows that Ango knows that he hurts. “You know, I always think it’s bullshit when someone says oh, but it’s what they would have wanted. About someone who’s dead. You don’t know that, and you can’t very well ask ‘em. But, I do… very firmly believe… that us, well, trying – trying to make something newer and cleaner and better, and rebuilding it as many times as it takes because hell knows we’re fucked up people but we want to make it as good as we can get it, and it’s not because we feel like we need atonement but because we just… want to. I think…” He has to quietly pause to take a breath, and Ango understands. Sincerity is a weed, a sick and tangled thing that grows too fast. It makes you choke on the truth.

“I think he’d like that,” Dazai says eventually. “Do you… disagree?”

“You really don’t think he’d still resent me?”

“I do not,” Dazai says, and backs up his point with a kiss to Ango’s forehead. “He was not the same as me. He was better with... forgiveness, and things of that ilk; although not perfect - nobody is. But like I say. I don’t know, not for sure. That’s just something you gotta carry with you.”  

Ango huffs a weary sigh, and leans forward, using Dazai’s shoulder to rest his head. “I know,” he says into the lapel of Dazai’s coat. The tan one – Ango knows why he chose that colour. He wonders if anyone else does, or if he alone gets to share that soft and fragile part of Dazai’s soul.

“I know you know,” Dazai replies.

“Don’t be so damn smug.”

“I’m not.” He rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t like that. I meant to say that… you know. I get it.”

“You don’t do guilt,” Ango accuses him.

“Not really.” Dazai’s smile is pained. Not for the first time, Ango wonders if sometimes he wishes he felt more than he does. If he has ever wanted to atone for his crimes, for his brutality. “But I understand it. And I understand… the circumstances of it.”

Ango is still leaning on Dazai’s shoulder, and Dazai has to twist his head sideways to awkwardly press a kiss to Ango’s cheek. It ends up halfway on his ear, but that’s okay. They’re trying.

“You carry your pain,” Dazai says, “And I’ll carry mine. And that way we’re in it together – sort of.”

“Is this your version of empathy?”

Dazai shrugs. The motion half-dislodges Ango’s glasses. “Take it or leave it.”

Ango straightens up, looks Dazai in the eye. “I’ll take it,” he says, “For better or for worse.”

“For better, I hope,” Dazai says in a whisper so soft Ango can’t even be certain he meant to say it out loud.

“Yeah,” Ango says, “I’d like to think we tend towards the better, now.”

Dazai kisses him again, and the softest wingbeats of a fledgling hope start to flutter in his lungs.

Better this time, they said. We’ll do better this time.

[j0kers-light]

You Noticed

OKAY SO! I was talking with one of my loves on the side (I adore you for this girl!) moral of the story, she inspired me to write a lil drabble of angst because Chaos is still in her angst era. 😈 you love me for it.

The lyrics in question that started this: 'I tried my best to not love you tonight and you noticed.'

Am I back or is I back? 🖤✨

We discussed this, the end was already set in stone yet neither of us put a date on when.

We danced around the obvious, too high on stolen time and precious memories to care about tomorrow. You noticed my hesitation and played along.

I knew I couldn’t have you. I knew this was going to end. In no other alternative universe would you and I be friends yet I selfishly persisted. I had to. I needed to. If only to prolong what little time I had left with you.

I cracked joke after joke to savor your bell like laughter. I spoiled you with affection. You noticed and clung to me tighter.

You weren't going to end things, I had to the bad guy. To break your heart is probably the hardest thing I've ever done. We had to be a clean break, you had to know that I moved on, but your smile, you kindness, your light still shined on me until the very end.

Why must you make everything difficult? Why did I have to leave?

I tried my best not to love you tonight. This had to be the end. And of course, you noticed.

[woofgang69]

Oooh for the spotify wrapped challenge, can I ask for n°12 and Deidara :3

josh you could ask for the world 💕 #12 is red wine supernova so while you only asked for deidara this definitely is a shippy song so i made it itadei. it's sfw but there's like a hint of spice because of the song lmao. also sorry it's so long 😂

Deidara adjusted his sunglasses before repositioning himself on his lawn chair, attempting to look good while also attempting to look like he wasn’t trying to look good.  He glanced over at his neighbor’s yard, hoping to find someone looking back, but Itachi was still focused on weeding the flower bed right in front of him.  Deidara huffed loudly and considered throwing something at Itachi to get his attention, but ultimately decided against it as it wouldn’t get him what he really wanted. The sun was high in the sky by the time Itachi eventually finished, three full trash bags surrounding him.  Some of his hair had escaped his ponytail and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and Deidara’s mouth felt dry as he watched Itachi use his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his face.  Itachi dropped his shirt and finally seemed to notice Deidara, his lips twisting into something that was almost a smile.   “Hey Deidara.”  Itachi didn’t raise his voice, but he didn’t need to, his words clearly carrying across the small space between them.   “Hey.”  Deidara didn’t raise his voice either, wanting to appear nonchalant, but he must have sounded uninterested as Itachi was already starting to turn away.  “Do you want some lemonade?”  He held up the bottle he specifically bought for Itachi up as he asked.  Itachi’s forehead creased as he thought about the offer. “Are you sure?” “Yeah I don’t mind.”  Deidara’s voice was light and a little coy, which he hoped was the reason Itachi decided to come over.  He took the bottle with a small smile, and Deidara watched him drink it behind the safety of his sunglasses.  “So I heard you like magic.”  “Yeah…”  Itachi’s cheeks turned a dark shade of red, though that might have been because of the sun.  Deidara gave Itachi a flirtatious sort of smile as he lowered his sunglasses. “Well I’ve got a wand and rabbit.”  Deidara felt a little embarrassed at saying it so boldly, but Hidan had given him the line, telling him to try something more direct with Itachi.  Itachi must’ve understood exactly what he meant as his eyes widened. “You have a rabbit?”   “Yeah.”  Deidara flipped his hair, emboldened by Itachi’s obvious interest.  “I can show you if you want.”   “Right now?”  It wasn’t an answer, not really, but Deidara took it as one anyway.  He gave Itachi a sharp smile before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards his front door.  He pulled Itachi through the living room, ignoring Hidan and his exaggerated wink, and all the way up the stairs.  Then Deidara pushed him towards his twin-sized bed. “Give me a second.”  Itachi looked around the room as Deidara rooted through the bottom drawer of his dresser.  His face felt hot once he grabbed his rabbit, overly aware of the other sex toys that it was buried under.  He waited until his face felt a little cooler before standing up and facing Itachi.  Itachi looked at him curiously, but then his entire face turned a dark shade of red as he noticed what Dediara was holding. “You meant that kind of rabbit?”  Itachi’s voice was pitched all weird. “Yeah…wait did you think I was talking about the animal?”  Itachi looked embarrassed as he nodded in answer to Deidara’s question.  Deidara wanted to bury his head in his hands, his own embarrassment too overwhelming to bear, but he was still holding his sex toy.  “Oh my god.  Please pretend like this never happened.  Actually please just forget all about me.”  Itachis’ face was still all red, but his expression softened. “I could never forget about you, Deidara.”  Itachi grabbed Deidara’s wrist and gently pulled him into his lap.  Deidara quickly tossed his rabbit onto his bed so he could wrap his arms around Itachi’s neck for balance.  “While this wasn’t really what I was expecting, I kind of like you.”

Deidara knew he should probably say it back, but he leaned in and kissed Itachi instead.

[ciellunee]

Seeing him tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Pairing- nanami X reader

Chapter 1- Yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

Synopsis- kento Nanami is your ex-boyfriend. He's cold, stoic, and more importantly, the crush of your new friend. Being the good friend you always are, you should keep your hands off him....but can you?

You and Nanami kento were that golden couple at jujutsu High. You made the monotonous man smile. He found his peace within you, the way you understood his wants and needs, how your lips curled into a perfect smile everytime you wished him 'morning' saying the same words ever so lovingly in his ears, he was mesmerised.

High-school nanami was emo. He hated loud parties, never spoke much, and was always tired. You, however, were the exact opposite, loved wild parties, spoke a lot, and were never tired from all the adventure jujutsu sorcery provided. The only thing you both enjoyed equally was poetry. Gojo always teased Nanami how him and you were polar opposites and how one day you might dump him for someone more like you. However, what actually happened was quite contrasting to Gojo's prediction. Nanami was the one who dumped you. Why? Because he wasn't sure if he could handle another heartbreak.

After haibara's death, nanami made sure to never get attached to anything. Attachment only leads to heartbreak, and that scared Nanami to the core. You, you were someone he deeply cared about, but he'll choose loneliness over attachment after all he's supposed to be that way, lonely, tired, and awaiting his death.

Months passed, and you both graduated. It's now been 3 whole years since your breakup. You heard nanami started working as a Salaryman, but rejoined as jujutsu sorcerer. You worked in the medical department alongside shoko and your friend Midori.

Gojo wouldn't shut up about how happy he was that "NANAMI FINALLY UNDERSTANDS WHERE HE BELONGS". That helped you in no certain way. Even after so many years, you felt anxious and nervous, just the thought of Nanami working in the same place as you made your stomach bubble. You hated to admit it, but you never truly moved on. How could you? He was everything you ever wished for. Your mind was overwhelmed with thousands of questions. "Should I go greet him?" "What if he gets awkward?" ..... "Should I call him kento or Nanami-san"....."is he seeing someone?", "what if he was married ?" ...

Hearing a knock on your door, you finally give rest to your thoughts. Opening the door you're met with a very tired looking shoko and behind her is Utahime and Midori.

Utahime gives you a smile while midori gets in blabbing something you're not really focused on. "You weren't there to greet him" said shoko catching you by surprise. "I thought he might get awkward seeing me so I stayed here."

Shoko and Utahime know you better, they can see you diverting your eyes whenever his name is mentioned, a little pink blush settling on your cheeks. Smug smiles on both their faces.

'Y/N...... do you know the grade 1 sorcerer who rejoined jujutsu high today? Oh my god he's a dreamboat!!!!' Midori squealed. You felt your heart sink, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she spoke about the blonde man. ......

After about an hour or so, Utahime decided to drag shoko and midori to principal Yaga's office to discuss a few things. "Least you can do is text him a greeting." Shoko whispered to you as they left, leaving you contemplating if you should text your ex boyfriend and friend's possible crush or not.

Texting the stoic sorcerer sounded like a bad idea but you had nothing to lose......

FUCK IT, IT'S FINE!!!

[hippolotamus]

10 please and D and P or H and T!!

Hi, friend!!!! I have completely given up on trying to contain my word count for these 😅 While the majority of the song is very David Rose, my brain latched onto the final verse for Tim. Putting it under the cut because 595 words 🫠

send me 1-100 and i'll write you a drabble based on the corresponding song

“I missed you, Skippy.” 

The words are a balm as much as they are a cut. A stabbing reminder of everything Tim can’t have. Could never have, really. Hawk was never his to keep. And as impossible as their love was before, it’s even more so now. Because Hawk belongs to Lucy. He’s a family man, a paragon of virtue within his world. Even if it’s all a lie. 

Tim can’t help but hate himself for the fraction of a second where he gives in to the fantasy that is loving and being loved by Hawkins Z. Fuller. He pretends that this moment is real and yearns to live in it forever, briefly considering bargaining with God if only he could be granted this one thing. This speck of time when Hawk is holding him, cherishing him. When he feels the warm brush of lips against his neck and jaw, the light scrape of stubble against his cheek, the fingers tangling in his hair and the hand at his back, as if Hawk truly wants to keep him. He smells the musky scent of cologne, mixed with Tide and a unique aroma that could only belong to Hawk. 

It takes him back to a rented room in 1952 and a crackling radio playing swoony love songs to cover the sound of their immorality. To stolen moments when they raised their middle fingers to God and loved with abandon. Because that’s what it was – love. Not sin. Not a mistake. Love. At least for Tim. 

And that thought strikes him like lightning, grounding him to the present. To the reality that is. The one where Hawk says he misses Tim, while the family Hawk left him for waits a quarter mile up the road in the main house. Presumably none the wiser. 

He wants to ask Hawk what exactly it is he misses. Is it the sex? The relative safety of someone he didn’t have to hide his secrets from (even though Tim is certain there were many between them)? But he doesn’t do that, because it will accomplish nothing. Instead he talks about Father Lawrence, and the possibility of holding two truths. 

He lets the pain of his words sink in and reflect in Hawk’s eyes, and he hopes they do hurt. Even if it will never be the same, Tim needs some validation in the form of knowing Hawk is in a fraction of the amount of anguish Tim has been carrying in his heart, like a slow-acting poison, for the last fifteen years. 

When Hawk’s inner turmoil – whether it be real or imagined – retreats behind a familiar mask of indifference, Tim accepts the tainted gift for what it is. Possibly the closest he will ever come to hurting the bulletproof Mr. Fuller. 

“Please leave.” Tim doesn’t have to ask twice before Hawk is out the door again, leaving him to the heavy silence of his makeshift sanctuary. 

He kneels in front of the stone fireplace, clasping his hands together, unsure what to think or say. What could he confess or ask forgiveness for? Because how, as he had once disclosed to the Army priest, could love be a sin? This love that blooms eternal in Timothy Laughlin’s heart for one Hawkins Fuller, no matter how he tries to trample it like a pesky weed. This love that he’s certain will taunt him for eternity, perhaps into the afterlife, and never let him go. 

Tim closes his eyes and begins to speak, praying the rest will come of its own accord. “Dear Heavenly Father…”

tagging some other beloveds who might be interested @stereopticons @statueinthestone @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @exhuastedpigeon @watchyourbuck @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @legalgal421

[losergender]

#17 - Spotify drabbles

17 -> "true blue" , boygenius -> percabeth driving to a montauk vacation by themselves ^0^

- you wanted to feel alive (so we went to the beach ) -

“which exit is it?” beth asks him from behind the steering wheel, frowning at the road in front of her. percy had insisted she took a GPS with them, and though she had agreed, they had ended up forgetting it somewhere in his apartment. 

“that one, i think,” he says as he points to the left. “worst comes to worst we just have to turn ‘round, so.”

“i’m not really keen on extending the ride, you know?”

“you don’t wanna have a long road trip with me?”

he lays back in the passenger seat, pouting dramatically at her in hopes she turns and looks. annabeth doesn’t, but she seems to catch a glimpse of his sad face and it makes her giggle automatically.

“oh, shut up,” she says between laughs, lifting a hand from the wheel to playfully slap his arm. “i don’t want us to be late.”

“for the vacation we booked for ourselves in which the only activity is swimming and making s’mores?” percy sits up —admittedly, he has adopted quite the awful posture somewhere between the 10 minutes of the trip and now— and places his shark plushie on his lap to cross his arms. “it’s meant to be a relaxing vacation.”

“i’m not good at relaxing vacations,” she admits.

percy knows she’s right. they’re a bit of an antithesis when it comes to travelling. while he is a rest-and-do-nothing beach bum, his girlfriend is a chronic sight-seeer. still, he doesn’t regret taking her to montauk. they both need a week to themselves, that’s for sure. a part of him feels bad for not taking her somewhere with more things to see, and so close to camp, but there’s something about taking her to his childhood paradise, to the place his parents met, to the last place he had been to before entering her life, that feels extremely personal and vulnerable, and annabeth is the one person he wants to be vulnerable with. 

“what’s on your mind?” she asks, noticing his sudden silence.

“nothing,” percy replies. he forces a yawn out and grabs his blåhaj, turning around in the seat again.

“you’re always thinking,” beth argues, “i know you.” 

he smiles against the blue shark plushie. he has yet to unlearn the idea that he’s beyond stupid, but it’s easier to let go of it when the smartest person he knows tells him otherwise. it feels good to be known so well.

“i just hope you’ll like it.” he shrugs. “it’s special to me. just…” just like you’re special to me, he wants to say. the words die in his mouth out of a shyness that feels foreign. “i just hope it’ll be special to you too.”

“everything’s special with you.” after she speaks, annabeth takes his hand away from the plushie and into hers, holding it close to her face to drop a light kiss on his knuckles before she lets go again. “i love you.”

“enough for me to tell you i think i chose the wrong exit?” that actually makes her turn to him with a frown on her face, but he guesses it’s got nothing to do with the road. “you know i love you too.”

[lilac-hecox]

for the spotify drabble game 32??

32- Bubblegum Bitch - Marina

High School AU: Cheerleader Arasha / Mathelete Trevor - Trevrasha

--

It’s during the Smosh High School weekly pep rally that Arasha really notes Trevor for the first time. She’s bouncing from foot-to-foot, pom-poms in the air, high ponytail swishing, as she looks out at the crowd during the call and response portion of their cheer.

Amanda is leading the cheer and Courtney and Arasha are flanking her on either side. Amanda asks the crowd to give her an ‘S’ and Arasha sees a pair of long and gangly arms make an ‘S’ shape in the crowd.

She recognizes him from one of her classes, biology maybe? And she knows his name, but not much else about him. He claps along in the bleachers, laughing with some other boys she doesn’t know. He looks like a nerd, tall, awkward, but his smile and laugh catches her eye.

Amanda likes to say that the cheer squad is in a dating league all their own. If high school is a hierarchy, the cheer squad is among the top of the pyramid. Arasha doesn’t fully buy into that because it feels so predictable. Cheerleaders dating the football team, the quarterback, etc.

Besides, Amanda’s already dating their high school quarterback, Marcus.

So, who cares really, if Trevor isn’t on the football team or any team? If it’s true that the cheer squad is top of the high school food chain alongside the football team, then Arasha can pluck anyone she wants from obscurity and bring them to her level, can’t she?

After the rally is done, the girls go back to their seats on the bleachers near the floor. Their teachers are calling the classes back to their designated rooms, the rally being held in the middle of the day, with ‘forced’ participation from the rest of the school.

Arasha is sitting, pom-poms in her lap, when she sees the guy, Trevor, make it to the gym floor. She jumps up from her seat to the confusion of Courtney, Amanda, and the rest of the team. Arasha makes a beeline for the guy, stopping right in front of him.

Trevor, he blinks, and looks nervously down at her.

“Hi?” he asks, a tad breathless and more confused than anything else.

“Hi. I’m Arasha.”

“I know,” Trevor says, “we’re in biology together.”

“Right!” Arasha says brightly.

“Arasha!” Amanda calls from the bleachers.

Arasha turns her head and sees Amanda giving her the biggest look of ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ she’s ever gotten from the other girl. Arasha turns back to Trevor.

“You have a varsity jacket,” she says, touching his sleeve, “are you an athlete?”

A blush crosses his cheeks, “Uh, no. I’m on the mathlete team.”

Arasha smiles, undettered by the undoubtedly nerdy nature of this boy.

“You must be good to get a jacket.”

Trevor shrugs, “I guess so? My teammates are really smart, luckily!”

People mill around the two of them, the gym slowly clearing out. Arasha smiles at Trevor.

“Are you planning on coming to the game tomorrow?” she asks him.

“I-I could.”

Her hand slides up to his shoulder, “I’d like if you did.”

“Oh,” Trevor says, his cheeks going pinker, “I can then, yeah, for sure.”

Arasha lets him go, stepping back and smiling brightly, “Great! I’ll see you there then. Sit by the front, okay?”

Trevor nods dumbly.

“See you in biology,” Trevor mumbles, blushing.

“See you,” Arasha echoes, watching Trevor slip away into the crowd.

Almost immediately Amanda and Courtney are there, surrounding Arasha.

“What was that?” Amanda asks.

Arasha shrugs, “He’s cute.”

“He’s…” Amanda starts, “please tell me he’s on a team or something.”

“Mathletes,” Courtney fills in.

“Mathletes,” Amanda stresses, “Arasha.”

“Come on!” Arasha says, grabbing their hands and leading them towards the exit of the gym, “we’re going to be late for our next class.”

“Okay, but we’re talking more about this!” Amanda says, even as Arasha tugs her along.

Spotify Drabbles Ask Game

[selfspinninglies]

obligatory intro post that I haven't made before despite being on this website for over a year -

-nsfw, homo/trans/xenophobic, ableist, racist dni.

-system

-our preferred names change a lot but for now just call us vince[nt], ivan, viscera, aorta, rot, or sinew

it/he/name pronouns [they/them occasionally] + any neopronouns [masc/neutral terms]

-I mostly draw oc stuff at the moment

-doodle/sketch requests are open !! (I will likely procrastinate to all hell on it though . apologies . Also i might not do them period)

-I write sometimes

-drawing box [the link is broken but i don't feel like removing it]

-spotify (don't make music it's just playlists jsknb, 90 to be exact)

-current hyperfixation(s): our ocs, epic the musical, crk, vicious

-messages are always open or talk to us on discord [our account is visionsuntangible just let us know who you are]

[taglist under the cut]

#noodle talks- just me saying things [self explanatory]

#defnotdoodles- doodles and sketches

#art- self explanatory, only finished things here

#not art- any post i make that doesn't have art [self explanatory]

#drabbles- writing tag

#fave- favorites

#mecore- self explanatory

#helpful- self explanatory

#for later- self explanatory

#sysposting- posts about system things

#moot- anything with my mutuals (ily <3 /p)

[au descriptions are simplified for brevity]

#kitchen sink- dead plate time loop au

#table for two- dead plate au that takes place after ending one

#ashtray- post abbatoir ending haunted vince au, extra salt in the wound he only kills Rody after they have their whole conversation

#cyborg theater- [might change the name later i just needed something] bad end theater x vtsom au

#Spotify- spotify links

#fanart- art by other people for my stuff <3

#plushieposting- posts about my plushies

#oc stuff- general oc tag + stuff that reminds me of them

oc story tags- #abyssal , #I'll love you when you fall apart [#ilywyfa] , #divine intervention, the anatomy of being wrong [#taobw], #experimental [check posts on those tags for what they're about]

[a-sound-sol]

Spotify Wrapped Drabble challenge!!

Send me an ask with a number 1-100 and an MHA character and I’ll write a Drabble with that song as the inspo!