#hiiii i hope this is okay :D

[astralfms]

most  days,  femi's  schedule  is  so  jam  packed  she  can  hardly  find  a  moment  to  think.  there's  not  many  times  this  bothers  her,  always  preferring  to  lose  herself  in  her  ambition  and  keep  herself  busy.  there's  not  much  time  to  think  about  herself  when  she's  tattooing,  focused  on  her  customer  and  making  sure  the  piece  on  them  would  be  one  they'd  love  FOR  LIFE.  nor  when  she's  meeting  with  partners  or  spending  her  nights  at  the  club,  coming  home  with  just  enough  energy  to  shower  and  sleep  and  repeat.  some  days,  though,  it  all  catches  up  to  her.  days  like  these  her  schedule  is  cleared,  her  mornings  are  slow  and  her  evenings  are  quiet.  self  care  isn't  her  specialty,  but  being  out  of  commission  is  a  worse  sentence  to  her  than  a  day  spent  alone.  living  in  palmview  for  ten  years,  it  was  easy  for  her  to  take  the  constant  beach  access  for  granted.  unable  to  remember  the  last  time  she'd  seen  the  ocean  (  even  though  she  lived  less  than  ten  miles  from  it  )  femi  found  herself  sat  along  the  shore,  watching  herself  sink  with  tide  and  rise  with  the  pull.  she'd  planned  to  journal,  her  tote  bag  laying  on  the  wicker  blanket  a  few  hundred  feet  away.  however,  once  she'd  gone  for  a  quick  dip  in  the  water,  she'd  been  unable  to  pull  herself  away.  when  she  was  younger,  femi  and  her  moms  would  collect  shells  and  compare,  taking  a  vote  on  who  picked  the  shiniest  one.  today,  she'd  found  it  hard  to  turn  any  over,  finally  building  the  courage  to  pluck  a  clamshell  washed  in  with  a  sharp  wave.  the  second  she  picks  it  up  is  the  second  she  becomes  aware  of  the  presence  beside  her,  head  pulling  up  as  the  shell  turned  over  in  her  palm.  “it's  nice,  isn't  it  ?”  she  hums,  figuring  it  was  an  invitation  for  conversation.  a  welcome  distraction,  she  nods  her  head  for  the  other  to  come  over,  patting  the  sand  beside  her.  “you  do  get  used  to  it  after  a  while,  i  won't  lie  to  you.”  tone  is  light,  placing  her  shell  under  the  water  to  wash  away  excess  sand.  “but  that  calm  ?  it  stays,  and  by  the  looks  of  it  you  need  that  as  much  as  me.”

Delaney leaned back in her chair at the Oceans Edge community pool, eyes shaded behind her favorite pair of aviators as she watched the kids in her swim class splash and laugh, their energy filling the warm afternoon air. Three weeks in Palm View, and she was finally starting to feel like she belonged—or at least, like she was finding her rhythm here. She was teaching four classes a week now, and word had spread quickly about the new instructor. Parents she’d never met waved at her in town, and some of the kids even ran up to her when they saw her outside the pool, chatting excitedly about their next lesson. She looked out at the water, spotting one of her youngest swimmers struggling to tread in the deeper end. Rising from her chair, she moved over, calm and encouraging as she coaxed him into a better position, giving a quiet cheer as he found his balance. “See? You’ve got it, Max!” she said with a proud smile, the boy’s beaming grin a reminder of why she loved this work. After her classes wrapped up, Delaney dried off, taking a moment to chat with the parents picking up their kids. She’d almost forgotten the weight she’d carried into this new life—almost. The ache of missing her father hadn’t gone away, but she felt him with her in small moments like these. He’d have loved to see her here, building something out of the love he’d inspired in her. Her thoughts drifted as she collected her things and walked out of the pool area, mindlessly making her way toward the beach for her nightly ritual. Just as the sun was setting, she slipped off her shoes, feeling the cool sand beneath her feet as she walked along the shoreline, letting the water wash over her toes. She took a deep breath, feeling lighter than she had in months. The past was still there, lingering just behind her, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like she was beginning to move forward. As she watched the waves crash against the shore, she felt her grief quiet down, making space for something new. "I could get used to this.."

[moonvalse]

For all of them, the shadowcursed regions have been a horrible experience. It is a realm of gloom and terror that marks not just the physical body but also the soul. Every day, it twists Rhys in a new and distinct way, until he feels it at his core. Nevertheless, he is aware that he is not the only victim of the curse. It appears that Iskios is just as, if not more, impacted by this area than he is. He's become even more reclusive and, in a way, more erratic than before. The cleric fears that something worse could be going on behind the curtains, even though it's likely that he's just exhausted from their travels.

"Are you okay?" He sits down next to the man and asks, his grin light but sincere. Their chat won't be interrupted by the rest of their companions, who are too preoccupied with planning their next raid to Moonrise Towers. Rhys would rather things stay that way since he doesn't want Iskios to feel trapped to the middle of an intervention. "You seem… lost in thoughts." Though it's not exactly what's on his mind, he would rather hold back on telling everything out of tact.

@svartr liked for a starter.*

[inumkii]

heyy i love your smaus 🩷🩷 and i wanted to request one where the reader texts the guys that they have an emergency but they only want them to like kill a spider and maybe like the aftermath of that 😭 i would love for your to include monoma and shinsou but the rest is up to you 🫶🏻🫶🏻

send help!!

bakugou, izuku, denki, monoma, shinsou x reader (individual)

you have a (not so) dire emergency on your hands and they mistake it as you being in danger

HIIII!!! thank you so much for the request!! this was such a fun prompt :D i got a little carried away with some of them and strayed away from the initial spider killing prompt so i hope these are okay LOLL

[girlzpace]

alondra  is  many  things  –  a  painter,  a  ballerina,  an  ethereal  being  that  shines  brighter  than  the  largest  stars,  destined  for  greatness  –  she  could  go  on.  but  while  all  those  may  be  true,  what  she  is  above  all  is  a  performer.  and  as  a  performer,  it  was  her  duty  to  commit  to  the  goddamn  bit,  even  if  she  thought  it  was  kind  of  tacky  to  steal  drinks  off  of  tables.  quickly  she  nods,  smoothing  her  previously  surprised  features,  “  yeah,  it's  our  anniversary,  we  were  at  dinner  earlier!  “  eyes  turn  to  the  figure  in  front  of  them,  ”  he's  telling  the  truth.  you  must  have  had  the  wrong  guy.  "  distantly  alondra  wonders  if  lying  so  easily  could  be  considered  reprehensible,  but  she  doesn't  pay  too  much  mind  to  it  –  she's  super  good  at  improv!

for: open to everyone! @langstonstarters where: the lamb and flag

"No, sir - you got the wrong guy!" The manager absolutely had the right guy. Usually, Soren was stealthy when it came to plucking up drinks left behind on tables. Left behind - halfway through being finished, but the owner had moseyed their way over the bathrooms, it was all the same, as long as you didn't get caught. Which wasn't in the plan, for obvious reasons - Soren always hated the part where he had to talk others down with the world's stupidest excuse. "Tell them, babe. We only just got here." Dragging someone into his mess wasn't ideal - there weren't many people as good at thinking on their toes as he was. But more people involved made his pleas all the more valid. Mouthing a rushed 'Sorry' to the closest person to him, Soren held his breath while waiting to see if they would corroborate with his story.

[roseareeh]

hiiii! I would love to see your thoughts on the NSFW alphabet for either Eddie or Jonathan?? Maybe both if you feel so inclined to do both!! I loved the one for Steve :)

smooches!! <3

Thank you for the request!! I did Eddie for this ask because Jonathan is going to take me a bit since writing him is still new to me. I hope you enjoy! I'll tag you in the Jonathan one once it's up 🫶🏻

‼️MDNI‼️

NSFW Alphabet - Eddie Munson

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Very needy. All over you, kissing, hugging, making sure you're okay. But Eddie loves when you take him in your arms and play with his hair

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

BOOB MAN! He shamelessly takes peeks whenever he can. But they don't only look good, he likes to use them as pillows as well. Eddie loves listening to your heartbeat come steady again after he roughed you up

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves when you swallow, especially when you show him afterwards that you did by sticking your tongue out

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Enjoys being dominated, even if he won't admit to that

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He canonically has a bit of experience, but most of his experience happens with you. Honestly, he didn't know what he was doing in the beginning but with some patience and instruction Eddie now makes you sing like a bird

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl and Missionary.

Cowgirl because that plays into him enjoying being dominated. Plus, your boobs bounce so beautifully.

Missionary because he gets to see your face and kiss you. Especially when Eddie is feeling needy, it's his go-to.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He makes jokes in between, but when you're exploring kinks together he's a bit more serious. But that won't stop Eddie from making fun of himself if he falls off the bed.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I feel like he just let's it grow. Once you two started having sex regularly, he trimms it whenever he was time

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Likes being romantic, but doesn't need it all the time. But he does see the way your face lits up when he's mid-thrusts and an "I love you." comes out. He loves it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

His sex-drive is high, so he jacks off a LOT. Once he got with you, it wasn't that much anymore, but he still does it when you're not around to help him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage. Those handcuffs above his bed? They're for you.

He's also into light spanking, especially when your hands are tied behind your back and you're bend over his bed.

Occasionally, he's into spitting in your mouth but that only happens when the bondage and spanking is already involved.

Overall, he likes powerplay.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The back of his van has become a favourite for the both of you. It's convenient, and his uncle can't just barge in. Although he's never been opposed to doing it in his bedroom as long as he knows he'll be alone for a while.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Not even Eddie himself can pinpoint it. It's just you that turns him on. The way you walk, your smile, your laugh, everything. He loves you as a whole, and is attracted to you as a whole.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hard spanking. You could beg him for it, but he could never hurt you too much. A red handprint doesn't bother him, but a bruise is too much. It already took you months to have him try out choking, and he's careful with that as well.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Wouldn't admit it because he loves diving face-first into your pussy, but he prefers receiving just a bit more. It plays into how he loves cuming in your mouth.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually, he's fast. In the beginning, Eddie was fast to a point where it was too fast, but he eventually found a good pace that both of you enjoyed.

He's very capable of going slow and sensual. Especially when he's being a big softie. That's always paired with soft kisses and lots of "I love you." 's.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn't mind them, that's why he has a blanket in the back of his van. He prefers having more time with you, but he's still a fan of quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Contrary to popular belief, he doesn't really like anything public. His van is the furthest he'd go. Only he gets to see you like that, and he'd prefer it to stay that way.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

After learning with you, he can go for a good 2 rounds and extensive foreplay. But he's dead-tired after that.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Most of the toys are bondage toys. You two tried dildos out on you before, and while he enjoyed that it's not a stable in the bedroom.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does enjoy teasing you a lot. Hand on your thighs, on your butt, whispered comments on what he'd do to you. Likes seeing you riled up before giving you your release.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Very vocal. He'll tell you how good you feel, that you're beautiful while getting pounded or how tight you feel around him. Eddie thinks it's important for you to know that you're doing a good job.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would live to try out roleplay, in which he'd get dominated. Like a cop-thief fantasy, for example.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I think Eddie is pretty average, both in lenght and thickness. There's a curve to it, and he knows how to make you see stars with it. Pretty veiny as well, especially when he's hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. Very, very high. If he could, he'd do it all the time. When you're home alone and it's the weekend, you two barely leave the bedroom.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very fast. After a few minutes of kisses and cuddles, he falls asleep with his head on your chest (clothes or not)

[attleboy]

I hold you SO SO closed in my handsss,,, I love seeing you in my notifications it's always such an honor and makes my day so much

-@sm-baby

omg hiiii mushroom!! :D i'm gonna be honest, i've been staring at this trying to figure out how to respond for a while but i am far too flattered to think of a good response! consider me rendered speechless...

anyway, i just hope you know the feeling is mutual and i am also very happy when i see you around!!! i'm going to use this as an excuse to toss some carnival au art your way which you'd enjoy, i hope?? ^-^

yes this one's based off madagascar 3 which... please don't judge me too hard for that... that movie's iconic (to me at least 😭)

there's more to these but idk i wasn't feeling it so crops are all i'm giving out

this one i'll probably still finish but i like how caine looks so here's a sneak peek

that was all pomni and caine wasn't it uhhh. whoops... here's a couple jax i also like that guy

and this isn't the carnival au, but it IS showtime and i know you love them... technically a wip but it's gonna take sooo many rendered pages to finish that idk if i'll ever actually get it done so just take this bit

okay that's it, ty again for stopping by!!!

[burdenandacrop]

hiiii mags !!

(anon here b/c i'm not as brave as i thought i was 😅)

first of, i'm sorry to break your chain of silly little goofy prompts, they've all been heartwarming & got me giggling & kicking my feet :D howeveerrr, i know you write more sensitive topics and the big guy™️ is pretty comforting for me. now you can take this in any direction you want— angst, fluff, do whatever your heart desires, girl!— but i was wondering if you could do a gender neutral reader x schlatt who was in a past abusive relationship? maybe the reader has certain quirks like they flinch or overapologize because of past memories.

(is this the most self-indulgent ask in the history of asks?? okay, maaaybe... but like, yolo! right?)

and if you don't mind, if 💌 anon isn't taken, then allow me to fill that spot up for ya!

thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this! MUCHHH love girlie!!

- 💌

˗ˏˋ ❝ these hands can only be gentle. ❞ ˎˊ˗

hi anon !! i apologize for how long this has taken me, but i hope this appeases you. i know how it feels so if i can give just a smidge of comfort, that makes my heart happy :>

summary : with a bruise that still stings, you try to navigate what is supposed to be 'normal'. as does he, with open arms and an open mind.

⋮ ⌗ ┆established relationship, comfort, mentions of abuse, small bit of crying, gender neutral reader.

the soothing voice of chet baker rang through the kitchen, you waved your hands around to the smooth sound. watching as schlatt was attempting to figure out the instructions on the box of penne pasta. his eyes squinting as he tried to rack his head on just how long he really needed to have it boiling in the pot for. you sigh and place a hand on his arm as you leaned in to read the directions with him, he was making it seem a lot harder than it probably was. looking at him, all you could think was 'poor soul'.

"you've got the right times, don't think about it too hard." you softly giggle out, poking his arm before you let go of him. "gonna pop a vein if you keep that face." you added, playfully toying with him. he dropped the box to the countertop, causing a loud clash to be heard, looking over to you with a grin. he wasn't met with a matching smile on your face though, instead he saw for a split moment a genuine look of fear on your face.

you quickly fix your face and cross your hands over one another, knowing you shouldn't have reacted like that to such a small thing. "sorry- it was the box wasn't it?" he muttered, raising his hand up to your shoulder to gently rub his thumb along. you bite on the inside of your cheek and try your best to keep your face fixed, "we need, olive oil. yeah." you stammer out, turning to the stove and grabbing the bottle to gently pour onto the pan. he watched as you desperately tried to distract yourself, his hand dropped back to his side as he watched you.

he looked at you for a moment longer before grabbing the box of penne and looking over the instructions again. he took a few quick glances at you as you evened out the oil onto the pan, he could easily see that he accidentally upset you. even if it was an accident, he desperately wanted to fix it, somehow at least. he looked at the box one more time before quietly placing it back down this time.

he walked behind you and leaned over slightly to gently kiss the temples of your face, letting his hands softly lay upon your shoulders. he could feel how tense you became, it ached at him. "i love you." he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. you slow down your stirring and come to a complete stop to turn your head to face him more, "i love you too." your voice quivering ever so slightly. his kisses traveled down your cheek, moving the hair by your ear to gently kiss the nape of your neck.

"just focus on the pan, sweetheart." he said barely above a whisper as he moved his lips off of you, moving your hair back gently. you let out a deep sigh, the uneasiness slowly going away. moving your hands back to stir the oil, as you seasoned the pan as well. his hands gently massaging your shoulders as he watched you, leaning his cheek against the back of your head. he couldn't comprehend how someone could hurt someone as delicate as you, when he saw you nothing short of a fairytale.

he let his hands slowly move from your shoulders, instead wrapping his arms around your torso with a sigh. "it looks really lovely already, baby." he muttered, kissing the side of your head, in hopes that he was doing something right. you move the pasta mix into the pan, pouring it gently as it sizzled with the oil. you were trying so hard to not mess anything up, especially not with him watching. you felt more on ease as time went on, it did feel nice to have him wrapped around you.

"any seasonings you want?" you speak out of thin air, embracing the warmth from him behind you. you could feel his cheek move along your head, assuming he was shaking his head to the question. "just the usual, i'm not picky." he replied, rocking you slowly as he stood. "anything you make is good, sweetheart." he adds on with a smile, his voice low and soothing. you lean your head against him and weakly grin as you gently stir the pasta mix, maybe it was going to be alright.

there had been other kitchens, other meals, other hands. hands that didn’t hold so gently, voices that didn’t soothe but seared. you thought you’d buried it all, hidden it deep enough that it wouldn’t resurface, but sometimes all it took was the wrong sound at the wrong time. he didn’t say anything as the silence stretched, his chin resting lightly on the crown of your head, waiting. he had learned not to push, not to pry. "just some garlic, never hurt anybody right?" you snicker out, the nervousness still evident in your voice. it was embarrassing for him to see you like this, you only wanted him to see you in your light; not the darkness that someone before created.

he shrugged and squeezed you softly, "i'm not a vampire, so you're safe with that." he started, chuckling to your comment, "for now." he added on jokingly, even letting out the stereotypical 'mwah hua hua' after. you let out a soft laugh, the kind that still felt unusually foreign on your lips, almost like a language you were relearning. the tension in your shoulders eased just a little as you reached for the garlic cloves, their papery skin crackling under your fingers. you glanced back at him, catching the playful glint in his eyes as he leaned into his ridiculous vampire impression, his grin as cheesy as you imagined it.

“for now?” you teased, raising a brow as you placed the garlic on the cutting board. “should i be worried you’re gonna start craving my blood instead of dinner?” you added with a smile. he gasped, a hand flying to his chest as though mortally wounded. “darling, i’d never! though…” his voice dipped theatrically, “if it means i get to bite that lovely neck of yours, i might reconsider.” you rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered this time, small but genuine. “then you’d better help me mince this garlic, dracula, before i revoke your invitation to this kitchen.”

he laughed, moving to your side with ease, his presence steady and warm. “course, course,” he said, grabbing a knife and making a show of twirling it lightly in his hand before chopping the garlic. for a moment, the air felt lighter, the weight on your chest loosening its grip. his effort to make you smile wasn’t lost on you, and you found yourself grateful. not just for his humor, but for the way he didn’t try to fix you. didn't view you as some sort of project that he'd see fit as. instead, he let you exist, fractured edges and all, and somehow that felt more healing than anything else.

“you’re getting better at this, you know,” he said after a beat, nodding toward the stove. the garlic was sizzling now, releasing a rich aroma that mingled with the bubbling oil. “at cooking?” you asked, pretending not to notice the way his hand brushed against yours as he slid the minced garlic into the pan.

“at trusting,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. you froze, the words cutting through you with their quiet truth. it wasn’t the kind of compliment you were used to. there was no flattery, no sugar coating, just a simple acknowledgment of the effort you’d been pouring into rebuilding yourself; and it felt nice. nicer than you imagined it being. he sliced the last bit of garlic and rubbed the excess from his palms, softly grinning as he kept his eyes on you. letting his hand raise up slowly, in fear that it might startle you, so he could gently caress the side of your face.

"just stay like this, okay?" he sighed out, letting his thumb run along your temple. "this is more than enough for me." he added on, before leaning over to kiss you on the forehead. "more than enough." he concluded, looking right into your eyes as he was mere centimeters from your touch. you swallow the lump in your throat as you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but it wasn't sadness. rather relief. relief that you finally felt safe.

"i love you." you shakily state, your lip gently trembling. you could feel the waterworks making their way, and so could he. even making him gear up a few tears of his own, he couldn't help it. knowing just how hard it was for you on a daily basis, but he wouldn't stray from you. he was just fine right here with you, in moments like this. whether it was crying because he accidentally raised his voice, holding you through the shakes when you had a night terror, or just singing you to sleep.

he was fine with all the moments in between the so called 'good', he just wanted to be there period. "i love you too, more than you'll ever know." he replied, trying his best to cut away the tears. grinning softly as he wiped under your eyes, "it's the garlic- swear." he snickers, making you laugh with him and shake your head. "onions are what makes you cry." you reply, feeling the heaviness get lighter in your chest. "shh shh, let me have this one." he defends with a giggle. taking a deep sigh and gently caressing your face.

"you're so- good. i'm so sorry anyone has convinced you otherwise, sweetheart." he stifles out, a tear escaping his eyes as it fell slowly down his cheek. you nod and raise your arms up to pull him into a hug, you needed this more than ever. closing your eyes as the sound of the sizzling pan and chet baker's soothing trumpet soared through the room. schlatt began to slowly sway you to the rhythm, kissing the top of your head softly.

"i just love emotional pasta nights, really do." he jokes, making you swiftly poke your head up and shake your head with a smile. a real smile. "as long as you're there, i love them too." you mutter barely above a whisper. tilting his head down and kissing you, leaning your chin up delicately and basking in every second of it. he knew it'd be a long road, but he knew he had enough love in his heart to withstand it.

author's note : i might've like ?? actually happy teared at this while writing, my apologies ?? i hope this isn't too short for you anon ! i can always write it longer if you'd like, i just hope you love it <3 cause i definitely did.

[householdcryptid]

hiiii love your l&d nurse ideas and i hope you get to write about it at some point!! <3 i saw on an ask u said to drop ideas so if you ever feel like it i l've been praying for someone to write reader sharing an on-call room while in between shifts or something w/ carter or definitely something with carter being gentle with kids 😫 or l&d reader showing carter the newborn babies in the maternity ward (i can't remember what that's called but yk the room where hospitals keep the newborn babies??) when he's like stressed or having a bad day and it cheers him up and he's like yearning for the day he can have kids

this was so fun to write i have to be real with you. i love this little guy so much he makes me stupid. CW: uhh, babies, carter being sleep deprived and lovesick, denny's awful lack of medical knowledge(I googled), an overabundance of the word little and baby, carter being a little delusional at the end (don't worry they're gonna get together in the next one) 1500 words! i hope you like it :)

ONE AM

Carter can’t remember the last time he’d slept, or ate, for that matter. He’s running on fumes, and Benton’s constant hounding about charts and imaging and lab results is wearing him thin. He just wants a nap. One, tiny thirty-minute nap. So, when he finds a dark on-call room with nobody in sight, he flops himself down on the bed without a second thought. “Hey-!” A voice yelps quietly, and then there’s an elbow in his ribs. He grunts, huffing a breath. “Woah, what the- Oh,” He breathes out, grinning despite the exhaustion that threatens to swallow him up. “Hey, you. What are you doin’ down here?” Your hand fumbles for the light switch as you emerge from the cocoon of blankets you've surrounded yourself with, grumbling at being woken up. “I was sleeping.” You mutter with nowhere near as much venom as you would use on someone else. Being mean to Carter doesn’t come naturally to you, even when he wakes you up from your naps, apparently. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you s’posed to be on the floor with Benton?”   Carter sighs, an exaggerated sound, rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I have an hour to spare, was hopin’ for a nap myself.” He looks tired, the soft skin under his eyes bruised a light shade purple, his shoulders drooping. Even his normally bright smile is dulled. You feel a pang of sympathy twist in your heart. His hours are crazy, Surgery is much more taxing than L&D. You know from his frequent complaints over shitty cafeteria food that Benton is partially to blame for that. “Don’t let me stop you.” You reply, stretching your arms up over your head, yawning softly. “I have to get back upstairs anyway. We have a baby boy with a pretty severe case of jaundice, I’m hoping his labs are back by now.” He watches you with warm eyes, sitting with his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His smile doesn’t fade either, a little dopey with how tired he is. You’re pretty, he can’t help but think. Your hair is a little sleep mussed, eyes heavy still, but more alert than before. “He gonna be okay?” He asks, equally concerned as he is desperate to hear your voice again.  It makes you smile though, poking your tongue in your cheek to try and tamp it down. “He should be. We’ve got him in the incubator, and we did some Phototherapy on him earlier this morning. The labs are to check his bilirubin levels, see if they’re down from yesterday.” You’re standing up now, and he mourns the loss of your warmth pressed against his side. It takes every ounce of brain function he still has not to whine. You notice, of course, you notice everything about Carter. (“John,” He keeps insisting, even though you never listen.) The way his smile falters and his chin dips down gives him away. “You should come up later,” You suggest, fingers lifting to ruffle through his hair playfully, a selfish move. His hair is soft, and he tips his head into your hand lazily, his smile back in force. “Come see all the new babies. If Benton can survive without you for thirty minutes, that is.” It’s a gentle tease, smiling softly back at him, finding yourself infected by his bliss-filled grin. 

He huffs, groaning softly in displeasure, eyebrows pinching together, lips twisting into a grimace. “I think he wants me to work till I drop, angel.” He grouches, shaking his head dispondently, pouting up at you. “He’s a surgeon, Carter,” You hum, fond and the tiniest bit amused at his peril. He’s so expressive, his emotions playing out plain as day on his face. It’s hard not to love him. “He’s a sadist by nature. Don’t let him get you down.” You order, eyebrows raising pointedly, looping your stethoscope over the back of your neck. He nods heavily, a deep sigh spilling from his lips, a dry puff of a laugh. “Yeah,” He mumbles, giving you a tiny smile. “Yeah, I’ll try.” You nod, watching as he wiggles himself down onto the bed. You only leave when he closes his eyes, flipping the light switch off on your way out. SIX AMYou’re just picking up Baby Elliot-Jones when a quiet knock rings on the door. You turn, confused, but you soften at the sight of him. Carter somehow looks worse than before, haggard in a way that makes your heart hurt. “You didn’t get that nap, huh?” You ask quietly, adjusting the baby boy in your arms, swaying gently to keep him calm. John huffs a wry laugh, shaking his head while he pulls on a gown. He makes his way over to you, smiling softly down at the little boy you’re cradling to your chest. “No,” He murmurs, tipping his head to the side some. His eyes go all gooey warm, and it sends your heart fluttering. “No, I didn’t get that nap.” He confirms, shrugging a shoulder noncommittally. “S’this the guy?”

You hum, nodding gently, bouncing slowly in your spot. “The man of the hour.” You verify, speaking in hushed whispers for fear of waking the poor little ones up. The nursery is full, fuller than he’s ever seen it. Little, wriggling and cooing babies in bassinets, swaddled in white and yellow. “His bilirubin came back lower this go around,” You murmur, dragging a gloved fingertip over the baby's cheek delicately. “Tough little thing. He threw a real fit earlier.” Carter watches with wide eyes, entranced by how gentle you are with the baby. It’s almost comical how easy it is for you to flip the switch from ‘hard-ass’ to ‘tender’. He only ever sees you be this soft with the babies. Well, and him, which he tries not to read too far into. “He’s cute.” He replies lamely, watching intently as you shift the baby in your arms. Too enraptured by the look in your eyes when the baby’s fingers grip the front of your gown to come up with a more eloquent response. You look up at him then, contemplative, and then decisive. “You wanna hold him?” You offer a smile lifting one corner of your lips. It makes his stomach knot up with affection. “Yeah, yeah sure. Absolutely. Please?” He mumbles, a smile splitting his lips, already reaching out to take the baby with all the eagerness of an overexcited puppy. “Careful.” You murmur on autopilot when you deposit the baby boy in his arms, rolling your eyes at the look Carter gives you. “I got this.” He assures anyway, cradling the babe in the crook of his arm, turning that blinding smile down at the tiny thing. “Hello.” He greets in an exceedingly soft tone. It makes those damn butterflies surge in your belly, biting hard at the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning like a fool. Quiet settles for a few moments, just the steady beeping of monitors and the occasional gurgle or coo from an infant in the room. “I always wanted kids, y’know?” Carter states suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. There’s a wistful quality to his tone that sends a pang through your heart, like he’s already given up on the idea of ever having them. “You’d be a good dad.” You reply quietly, more sincere than you’d planned on it coming out. His eyes flick to you, eyebrows raised, looking pleased with your vote of confidence. “Yeah?” He whispers. “You think so?” You laugh softly, nod once. “Yeah, John. I’ve met enough bad dads to know you would be in the good category.” He beams at that, his shoulders straightening up some. It’s as if the praise has breathed new life into him, blown away all the verbal abuse that’s no doubt been spewed at him all night. His pretty eyes shift back to the baby, who’s gurgling soft coos up at him, tiny fingers clenching and unclenching around Carter’s index finger. “I might have one.” He states, voice barely a whisper now, as if he fears that if he speaks too loudly, it might break the peace. “Someday. Haven’t had much luck finding someone who wanted to uh, commit to something that serious yet.” He chuckles softly, trying to brush the comment off as funny, you think. Something to poke fun at him for. The thought of doing so makes you feel a bit ill. “You will.” You whisper back, your fingers brushing over the top of the baby’s head with a light touch, smoothing back downy soft tufts of hair. There’s a certain domesticity to the moment. Something he can imagine doing with you, with a baby that looks a little bit more like the two of you combined. His heart feels full, his mind blissfully calm for the first time in weeks, and he’s hit suddenly that- I think I already have.

[fear-is-truth]

Hiiii! Hope you’re having a good day/night. If it’s no trouble and fine by you, I was wondering if you could do headcanons with the Evans characters, with how they would react to a reader who is quiet during sex? Like, only lets out little sounds. If you do it, could you add Kai and James March to it please? Thank you

𝜗ϱ ┆ 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝒹𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑒𝓍 .ᐟ

── THE EVANs ‧ h e a d c a n o n s ೃ࿐

ft. tate ‧ kit ‧ kyle ‧ james ‧ kai

⟣ TAGS ‧ NSFW | f! reader

a/n: it’s been a hot minute since i’ve done these lol

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

having watched a lot of porn, tate has a misconception that loud sounds during intimacy equate to enjoyment. at first, he might feel confused when you remain mostly quiet, only letting out small, soft noises. he’d think, am i not making her feel good enough?

he’s already kinda insecure, so your quietness would stir some of that self-doubt. he’d start overthinking, wondering if he’s doing something wrong or if you’re not as into it as he is.

tate would try to get some reassurance from you without outright asking. he’d study your face intensely, looking for any signs of pleasure in your expressions, lyour subtle reactions would become his new fixation, even if you’re not loud.

as someone who craves reassurance, he’d encourage you to express yourself a little more, not because he needs it but because he wants you to feel free. leaning in and whisper, “it’s okay, you don’t have to hold back,” hoping that you’ll feel comfortable showing whatever you feel, whether it’s loud or quiet.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

he’s the kind of partner who is incredibly empathetic and sensitive to your needs. if you were quiet during sex, he’d notice right away, but he wouldn’t take it personally. instead, he’d gently ask if you’re okay, and wouldn’t push you for more noise or reactions.

kit understands trauma and emotional sensitivity, given his own experiences. he’d quietly interpret your demure behaviour as a sign of your comfort level and wouldn’t press for you to be anything other than yourself. if being quiet is what feels natural to you, then that’s what he’d want, too.

if you ever felt self-conscious or embarrassed about not being loud, he’d be the first to comfort you. “you don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me,”

he would find your small, kittenish noises adorable. not the type to expect or want a loud, dramatic reaction—Kit would much prefer the intimacy that comes with the small sounds you make. to him, it’s a sign that you trust him and feel safe, which would mean the world to him.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

Kyle simply adores the way you express yourself during sex. he’d find it sweet and would often smile involuntarily, drinking in the sight with warm, affectionate eyes. the small, delicate sounds you make would melt his heart, and he’d likely respond with even more tenderness, holding you close and kissing you softly.

he would take your moments of silence as an opportunity to show you how much he loves and cherishes you. he’d press gentle kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and neck, whispering words of affection like, “i love you,” or “you’re doing so good, baby.”

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

he wouldn’t mind your quietness during sex. in fact, he’d find it charming and entirely fitting with his idea of grace. your soft, kittenish noises would appeal to his aesthetic sense of control and decorum.

plus he’s kinda used to the sound of his victims screaming and it gets old real quick.

james is highly observant, and he’d become acutely attuned to the smallest reactions you have—the way you arch your back or take a slightly deeper breath.

he’d absolutely adore giving you endearing nicknames like “little dove” or “sweetness”.

although completely content with your quietness, james might occasionally coax a little more out of you, but only in the gentlest way. he wouldn’t outright demand loudness or force you to change. instead, he’d whisper, “let me hear you, darling,” in a velvety, reverent tone, and would savour any small response you give him. (simp)

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai would definitely feel annoyed and offended by your quietness. given his sexist views and past immersion in r/redpill, he would have absorbed the idea that women should be loud to show their enjoyment. he’d start wondering if he’s not living up to his own inflated sense of masculinity and skill, thinking, why isn’t she screaming?

he’d resort to filling the silence himself. i also feel like kai is the kind of person who can’t stand quiet because it makes him feel like he’s losing control. so, he’d start talking—maybe even about completely unrelated things. casually bring up political strategies, his plans for his cult, or how he’s going to destroy his competitors in the election.

he’s not great at handling rejection, real or perceived. he’d sulk or act petty if he doesn’t get the reaction he’s aiming for.

being the manipulative bitch he is, kai would throw in some backhanded compliments to make you feel like the quietness is your fault. “you’re just so quiet, like a good little girl,”

he is addicted to control and power. so, your quietness would feel like something to conquer. he’d take it personally and think it’s his job to make you scream if it’s the last thing he does.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[aroaceleovaldez]

Hiiii!!! Hello i hope you have a great day! :D anyways i heard you have your hc for the argo 2 crew so i gotta ask when i was scrolling theu ur posts about Piper i saw you the pjo alt fashion thing so i'm curious do you have any fashion hc about the argo 2 crew? (Btw thanks for answering my question earlier i really appreciate it :D)

Of course! First and foremost, general hcs:

All these kids are ADHD and half of them are probably autistic. The vast majority of them absoLUTELY have sensory issues and their asses are NOT gonna be able to wear a lot of specific clothes. Tulle voted number 1 most hated fabric at Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood 10th year in a row.

They probably have to make the camp shirt decals a very specific way so they don't end up with the stiff chunky solid print that you get sometimes, otherwise half of camp wouldn't be able to wear them without having a breakdown. Are the camp shirts a required uniform? No, particularly not at CHB. But people want to wear them and if they're specifically being made with sensory needs in mind then there's a very strong reason why campers are picking those over the rest of their wardrobe. They love their sensory-needs-friendly silly t-shirts okay.

Seriously SO many of these demigods are defaulting to a camp t-shirt and their favorite bottoms cause they don't feel like risking a spontaneous sensory meltdown every day.

specific Argo II crew hcs under the cut cause this got long:

Vast vast majority of Percy's wardrobe is thrifted stuff and hand-me-downs. He hates new clothes and needs somebody else to have already worn them in. The more worn they are, the better. He probably will convince his friends to wear in new clothes for him if he can. Every time he gets a new CHB shirt he asks Grover and Annabeth and Sally to trial run them.

Piper is very specifically canonically anti-fashion and i think she'd also be very big on anti-fast fashion specifically as well. Not only does she negatively care about looking fashionable and adores every tacky article of clothing she can get her hands on, but she will kill you with lasers if you try to give her some new cheap clothes with gross seams. She definitely has the weirdest wardrobe out of everybody on the crew though cause she'll pick up random stuff she finds funny. Her and Percy are going thrifting together.

I like the idea that Annabeth's wardrobe is cobbled together from a lot of her friends. She just takes their hand-me-downs or borrows stuff from them that just ends up hers. The only skirts she owns are probably all from Silena, half her shirts are Percy's, etc etc. If she has a semi-coordinated outfit it's a miracle of the stars aligning. She has never a single moment in her life intentionally collected something with the thought of "ooh this will pair nicely with [x]-" nope it's all just "oooh comfy..."

If Nico does not have at the very least an oversized second layer he will DIE. It's required. Big hoodie, big coat, oversized tropical shirt haphazardly tucked into his jeans so it doesn't go down to his knees, etc etc. He's gotta be swimming in it. Oversized shirts are also good but less required so long as he has his oversized jacket. Everything else is comfort: Jeans he's worn to death that are full of holes cause he doesn't want to have to find a new pair that doesn't make him feel like he needs to crawl out of his skin, boots he cannot remember the origin of but he'll be damned if he could ever find a second pair of so he's also wearing them to shreds, etc etc. Also extremely likely to be stealing his friends clothes, though less of everything like Annabeth does and more just shirts and hoodies since all his friends are larger sizes than him so their clothes fit baggy on him which is ideal. The only reason his outfits match are cause the majority of his wardrobe is black or neutral-toned. Bright colors are overstimulating to him but he does have color in his wardrobe rarely.

If Leo does not have one billion pockets on his person he also Will Die. He too is so so specific about fabrics cause a.) fire safety but also b.) bad combo trying to work when you want to shed your skin cause your shirt is Wrong. The suspenders are both for sensory reasons (random compression straps yippee) and cause his toolbelt is too heavy half the time so it helps keep it from falling down. His outfits are built on practicality.

In a perfect world Jason would be running around in a comfy hoodie, t-shirt, and nice long skirt. Unfortunately he is cursed to have to wear pants. Again, practical t-shirt and basic pants combo. I think he's worn practical simple clothes for so much of his life if you try to put him in something too out-there he'll have a sensory meltdown SO fast. Don't show him a top with a bunch of different textures he'll cry. Probably not a huge fan of fitted stuff either. Would be a clothing thief if he were not often one of the largest sizes out of his friends. I hc he and Reyna are similar sizes though so they can share some stuff. He has definitely borrowed Reyna's skirts to just chill in when he doesn't have to do training stuff.

Frank is cursed by the combo of mens department, plus size department, and sensory issues. He'd like to wear a more expansive wardrobe but he'll be damned if he can find something beyond extremely basic t-shirts and pants that both fit him and don't make him want to turn into bees. At least he is the only one of the Argo II crew that can get out of a sensory meltdown by turning into a reptile and literally shedding his skin and then turning back and going "i'm okay 😌."

Hazel is like the only one of the Argo II crew who can tolerate a lot of frills and lace and such. She would love to be wearing cute lolita fashion. She's also like the only one on the ship who cares about that. Unfortunately, frilly cupcake dresses do not pair well with horses (or general demigod training) most of the time, so she rapidly oscillates between cutesy fancy outfits and practical t-shirts and overalls and such. For her t-shirts and overalls combo she is not worried at all about coordinating cause it will probably get barn shmutz and such on it but she does doodle/paint all over any denim in her closet.

Reyna and Hazel are in both Horse Girl and not-tomboy solidarity. They're the only girls on the ship who regularly wear skirts. Reyna basically only wears pants when she's forced to by whatever she's doing (usually training or horse stuff), but otherwise she is so vehemently anti-pants. She does not like pants. Don't look at her with pants.

For a related post, see my Oddly Specifics Pants Opinions Headcanons.

[weneeya]

Hii :D may I request Genshin Sumeru men with an s/o who always has cold limbs? my best friend prohibited me to hug them because of my cold hands *sigh* so I need something to warm up :( anyways, have a great day!!

always cold

m.list | rules

pairing. sumeru boys x reader

characters. al haitham, kaveh, cyno, tighnari

note. hiiii thank you for your request! I hope you're doing okay with your cold hands and that it's nothing too worrying <3 hope you'll enjoy this!

Al Haitham

act like he doesn’t really care

does care in fact 

annoyed but deal with it 

He was sitting at his desk, working on some paper as he was the Acting Grand Sage now. He was so busy that he didn’t spend time with you for the last few days. But you knew how to get his attention, and you were sure that it would work. 

You arrived from behind him without making too much noise, and you let your cold hands rest on his neck. It surprised him, he couldn’t say otherwise, as he slightly jumped on his chair at the touch. He quickly looked behind him, frowning a bit as he met your gaze and your proud smile. 

“I’m busy,” he said, “and I’m cold,” you answered him without any hesitation. He knew what you were trying to do, and it simply made him sighed discreetly. He had work to do and he wasn't going to stop right now ; but he wouldn’t brush you away either. So he let you warm up your hands against his skin, as he kept working. 

Kaveh

the definition of softness

he would always try to warm up your hands with his

he’s always worried that you might be cold so he’s really attentive on this 

You were sitting on the couch, rubbing your hands together as you were trying to warm them up. They were so cold, as always, and it almost started to hurt you. When Kaveh came home after some time, he saw you there, slightly shaking. 

He came quickly closer to you, a bit worried because he knew you were frequently cold. He sat right next to you, grabbing your hands between his. He slowly brought them closer to his lips so he could softly blow his warm breath against your skin. 

“Are you okay? Is it working?” he asked you, raising his eyes to meet your gaze. You couldn’t help but to smile slightly at how adorable he was with you. Always so caring about your cold hands: it warmed your heart. 

Cyno

he doesn’t really care about your cold limbs 

except when you’re trying to warm them up with him

Cyno was laying in your shared bed, sleeping peacefully ; or at least trying to sleep. You were right next to him, bundled up in the blanket. You were so cold right now, almost shivering, and you couldn’t understand how your boyfriend was sleeping without any problem. 

You looked at him, when an idea crossed your mind. A smirk appeared on your lips before you brought your feet closer to him. You put them right against his back, making him jump slightly in surprise. 

“What the-” he turned his head, trying to look at you as you started to giggled softly. It was even funnier than you expected, and your feet were feeling warmer. Cyno was a real radiator. He sighed a bit, before turning completely around to face you. He opened his arms and you almost rushed against him, hiding your face in his neck. You were feeling way better now. 

Tighnari

always taking care of your health

so your cold limbs are always a concern for him 

“You should wear warmer clothes,” he said, frowning as he saw you going out in such light clothes. You looked at him in disbelief, you didn’t expect such a reaction from him. Your boyfriend was always concerned by your health, worrying too much about your whole problem with the cold. 

“I’m fine Nari, it’s just my hands,” you told him as you showed him your hands, a little smile on your lips. He came closer to you, grabbing your hands between his to examine them. He looked back into your gaze, before shaking his head slowly. 

“Here, wear this,” he holded gloves out to you, waiting for you to take and wear them. You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight back. With Tighnari, it was completely useless. He would never let you go out without being sure that you would be warm. 

It was his way of taking care of you as he could. Health was his domain, so protect your health was the least he could do.

I love sumeru boys sm they're my favorite pls hoyoverse bring them back

[souriru]

HI IM HERE TO MAKE A REQUEST :3

maybe like.... Transmasc reader... Coming out to Leona.... And reader is nervous bcz it's frowned upon to be trans where he's from.... And some fluffy romanticness teeheehee

Thank you, love your writing :D

the need to come out to leona hits you suddenly one night, when the two of you are lying on the thatched roof of the savanaclaw dorm. it was a randomly arranged date night, of sorts- things got a little too loud for leona to handle today, and instead of making his way to ramshackle, he whisked you away like a "romantic" prince to his roof, dozing lightly next to you under the stars.

you gulped as you turn to look at him, throat dry. there's a breeze, gentle and cooling, but your heart is beating louder than anything else you can hear right now, and the words feel heavy in your mouth. "leona." you murmur, and you flinch lightly as green eyes stare into your soul (maybe they are? maybe they aren't? you can't tell.).

"what?"

"i'm-" a deep breath, and a long pause. "i'm trans. i’m… i'm a guy. like, it's not just how i feel, i am. trans. i wasn’t born this way, but i am. It’s who i am." maybe you're rambling now, maybe you're no longer making sense, but you look away, fiddling with your hands in the silence.

you feel your chest crush your heart, clamping tight on the organ like it should kill you. the fear creeps in, and you tense- where you’re from, this would be a reason to walk away. a reason for someone to look at you different. like you're odd. lesser than.

"okay." you look up with a snap. "huh?"

"i said okay." leona's tone is neutral, but slightly gentle. "i figured a while back, though i wasn't really sure, but wanted you to tell me."

"you... you knew this entire time?" you whispered, like it was something taboo.

"suspected. you'd been doin' things your own way. doesn't matter to me anyway. you're you. i like you."

you sniffle, and you don't even realise you're crying until leona's hand cups your cheek, wiping away a tear. "for what its worth," he murmurs, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, "you're the strongest guy i know anyway."

"so you'd love me if i was a worm?" you chuckle hoarsely as leona rolls his eyes.

"yeah, yeah. only the best fucking terrarium privileges for my boyfriend."

hiiii anon thanks for the request :) i hope you like it! || 390 words

[rooniearts]

HIIII….HELLO…..WAVES NERVOUSLY….

I WANTED TO FINALLY SAY HIIIII I LOVE YOUR WORK SO. SO DEARLY!!! (as i’m sure is evident. pulls at my shirt collar, glances at the novel I leave in ur reblogs) YEAHHHHH���!!!!!

your art is SO DAZZLING it brings me so so soooo much joy GWAHHH,, the way you convey expressions and posing and your designs GAH IT’S EVERYTHING!!!

i am especially a fan of your AUs :3 espilver mentioned in any capacity is always a huge win for me BUT I AM SO SO SO IN LOVE WITH YOUR KNIGHTS AND POETS AU GAHHHHHHHH THEY ARE SO AWESOME!!! i’m so eager to see how their relationship will develop and such ahh!!!

AND !!!! YOU !!!! pls take this in the best, non-weird way ever but u draw blood sooooooo good IT’S LIKE. GRGRGRGRGRRRR…the formation in splatters feels so natural and generally correct so seeing my favs bathed in the blood of their enemies is a delight actually !!! glances at metal wins au. i’m sure he’s fine.

I HAVE A LOT TO SAY BUT I’LL LEAVE IT AT THAT GAH!!!! SO SORRY FOR THE LONG YAPS AS ALWAYS I HOPE I AM ABLE TO EXPRESS JUST A FRACTION OF WHAT YOUR WORK MEANS TO ME o7 don’t ask how long it took me to hype up and type this uhhhh the answer is multiple weeks OKAY BYE! HAVE A NICE DAY

AWWWHHHHH :'D This is so sweet!!! Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!! I love your art too, there is something so delightful about how sharp and defined your style is that I just can't help but love! <3

AND YESSSS I'm glad to hear you like Knights and Poets because I am still so so ill about them too :'D I just can't get enough of those silly lil guys and their drama......... I neeeeeed to draw more of them NAOWWWW!!!

Thank you so much again, this was a really sweet ask to wake up to!! :]

[bun-z-bakery]

𝐶ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝛭𝑦 𝐿𝘰𝜈𝑒

Paring: Parent!Mammon x Parent!gn!Reader

CW: None

A/N: Hiiii helllooooo!! I finally got around to writing for my other best boy! this one is a cute lil holiday inspired one! Also rip obey me :( btw requests are still open but i hope you guys are enjoying what my brain cooks up on a chilly afternoon cause its cold as hell over here! 😭

Obey Me Menu | Works Menu | Ao3

"Treasure don't worry, the kiddos will be fine. I'm great with them!" The demon of greed stood proudly as your children climbed him like a tree. You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the sight before you. How did you get so lucky? You sigh in defeat before you put on your coat and slip on some warm boots. Mammon who's still being mauled by your children, runs over and places a soft kiss on your lips, one thing that hasn't changed is the way he'd often become flustered at such gestures, either way, he's the avatar of greed after all, who's he to send off his spouse without a reminder of who they're married to?

"I'll be back as fast as I can, Mamms" you affirmed as you placed a gentle kiss on your son and daughter's cheeks, earning a giggle out of them both. "Bye-bye!" your daughter waves at you, and you give her a wave back as you leave for the day. Mammon stands before the door for a few seconds, inspecting the nob as if his life depended on it. Your children did the same, it wasn't until they heard the sound of the door locking and the jingling of keys fading did they break out of their trance.

Mammon smiles and claps his hands as he turns his back towards the door, his voice loud and eager "Alright troops, it's show time!"

You walk around the shopping center and window shop as you pass by each store. By now you have already been to a few, groceries, cleaners, the usual boring stores that seemed more exciting when you were in the devildom. You sigh as the memories come flooding back from your time in literal hell terrifying, exciting, and fascinating all rolled into one.

You take out your phone and decide to send your husband a text, a simple "everything okay?" just to quickly check-in. Once that's sent you put your phone away and walk towards the parking lot, however just as you were going to leave, something caught your eye in one of the shops.

You bite your lip, wondering if you should go in and check it out, surely mammon would worry if you come back later than you said, it wouldn't be his first freakout searching the whole city for you. With a sigh you decided to bite the bullet, you'd be quick, you promise.

"I'm homeeee~!" you sang as you entered your house. "Welcome back treasure! I missed ya!" Suddenly you're engulfed by your husband's embrace as he held you close and tightly. "Sorry, I'm late i-" you paused as you let go of him, you looked around your house to find it cleaner than how it was left. The lighting in the house was cozy, lights were hung on the ceiling, and a sturdy-looking couch fort that seemed just as warm and cozy. Walking closer to it you couldn't help but smile at the work he had put in. The crackling of fire made to turn around, and a video of a fireplace was on the TV which he had moved to the floor. Your lips quivered at how much thought and care he put in.

"D-do ya like it?" Mammon asks shyly as he places a kiss on your cheeks before taking the bags that are still in your hands. "Like it? Oh, Mamms I LOVE it!"

You pepper his face with kisses, and you both giggle like idiots. "Get comfy, hot chocolate is almost done! Kiddos say it's a need." He grumbled the last part, but you could see the corner of his lips curling. He loved to make you and now your children happy. "I'll take this one, I'll be back soon!" you quickly grab the bag and run to your shared room. You exhale with a stupid smile on your face. Placing the bag on the bed, quickly you changed into something comfortable and practical, you felt like you could melt if you had stayed in your coat and fleece pants if you wore them for just a second longer.

Once you're satisfied with your choice of clothing you decide to test your luck to see how much longer you'd have some time to yourself. You take the box out of the bag and neatly wrap it in holiday wrapping paper, you smile, silently hoping Mammon will like your gift.

Your moment of peace however didn't last as long as you'd hoped for, Mammon was already knocking and about to burst down the locked door. "Oi, darlin' open the door!" he pouts from the other side of the door. You can hear the faint thumps of feet running across the wooden floors. Quickly you shuffle your way to the door and open it as you hold the gift behind your back. "Greedy and impatient I see." you joked as you walked past him, hiding his gift in the pockets of your pants. Of course, Mammon follows behind like a lost love-sick puppy, his love for you and your little family was unmatched, ironic to say but you were blessed.

"Well, the hot chocolate is gonna get cold! And yer takin' wayyy too long! I thought somethin' happened." he pouts more. Gently you place a hand to his face and stroke his cheek with your thumb. "About that hot chocolate?" "Treasure whatcha got there?"

Crap… he saw the gift you tried oh so hard to hide. "Mammoney listen," you raise your hands, grinning as you try to speak. "I'm listening" he walks closer to you, making you take a step back. "And I heard that someone is hiding something from the great Mammon!" he shouts as he lunges with grabby hands in an attempt you hold you and tickle the truth out of you. Quickly you dodge his attack. The two of you ran around the house like maniacs, your pleas of mercy and his threats of tickling you to death were loud enough to possibly get some kind of noise complaint from a few houses down.

"Mammon pleaseeee!" you quickly rush towards the fort and carefully take a seat there. Mammon runs towards you however lets out an oof in pain as you kick your feet out which lands on his stomach to stop him from his attack.

"I'll show you if you gimme some hot chocolate please." you pout and flutter your lashes. He clicks his tongue but stifles a giggle as he makes his way to pour you both a cup of hot chocolate. While he's gone, you carefully pull the gift out of your pocket and place it on the empty spot on the couch next to you. Once again you admire the handy work he and your kids managed to accomplish within a few hours. "Your order my dear." mammon jokes in a posh tone as he places your cup on the coaster in front of you and his on the coaster in front of his seat. "Thank you my good sir." you joke back as you pick up your cup to take a sip, you pause, raising a brow at how good it was. Mammon seemingly was a man of many hidden talents and you've seemed to learn more about him after you two got married.

"wow! It's delicious!" your approval of his hot chocolate skills made his eyes sparkle and cheeks flush. "That's g-great to hear, of course, ya like the great Mammons hot chocolate!" you giggle as you roll your eyes. Setting down the cup of hot chocolate you take the gift and present it to him. "This is for my amazing husband who makes my day better." For a second mammon could've sworn you were actively trying to kill him with such words. He eyes you suspiciously and then takes the gift. "Mammon I promise you everything is okay, you really are an amazing husband."

You place your hand on his arm, giving him a small reassuring squeeze. Sometimes he doubts his ability to keep you happy. But you were happy, he made you happy and you did the same for him. That's all that matters.

He opens your gift, his eyes growing wide and his mouth falls again. Carefully he pulled out a gold-toned watch with a black enamel face. The face is surrounded by a bezel set with small rhinestones. The watch looks elegant and screams expensive. Mammon's golden blue eyes teared up, and he turned to you, "H-how did you even afford this?" his lips quivered as you watched you. You take another sip of your hot chocolate and sigh with a smile. "I've been saving up for a while, I'm so glad they finally brought back that model, it screams you!" you tilt your head as you two gaze at each other, Mammon seems like he is about to burst into tears. "Well put it on don't just-"

"Thank you my treasure." he holds you in a tight embrace, and with your free arm you return the hug. You can feel his body slightly shaking. "Mamms I love you so much, you deserve it." "I love you too treasure." he sniffles as he breaks the hug, planting a kiss on your lips, you can taste his salty tears.

"Sorry 'bout the tears… And yer hot chocolate…" he points to the chocolate-covered floor. "ew gross." A small voice coming from behind the fort made you stand and raise a brow, it was your eldest. Mammon grins at your son "Hey kiddo, wanna watch a movie? Call your sister down." with that the little white-haired boy runs upstairs. Mammon couldn't help but stare at the mini version of you, it all still felt like a dream to him.

"Sooo waiter another round of hot chocolate?" you poke his cheek, taking him out of his daze. He pulls you back onto the couch and into a warm and cozy cuddle, you love every moment of it. You used your magic to clean the spill, a nifty spell Solomon had taught you for little things like this. But still, you wanted your hot chocolate.

"Let's have another." Mammon says in barely a whisper, "Well yeah I'm waiting for another round." You giggle at him, and he turns his flushed face.

"I didn't mean the hot chocolate…"

"…" You stare at him blankly.

"I just wanted hot chocolate."

As the night went on and the movie now coming to an end, you and your two little ones were already fast asleep by the time the credits had rolled around. Mammon was just barely keeping his eyes open.

Carefully he carried the kids to their beds, then came back to get you. He smiles as he admires your sleeping figure, the way your face shines under the soft string lights, the way your breathing is soft and gentle, the way your skin has little nicks and scars that tell a story of your time in the human realm he wishes he could've been apart of. He strokes your face with the back of his hand before he carries you up to your bedroom.

Gently he places you down and makes his way to his side of the bed, sleepily you reach out to him, who is he to deny his spouse of his warm embrace?

As sleep begins to take hold of him, he strokes your hair "Thank you fr'everything my treasure." he whispers before sleep finally takes hold of him, drifting off with a smile on his face. Oh, how he loved his treasures.

A/N: One of my favorites to write tbh! I hope you enjoyed your order!☕🐇

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii!! could i request for a kiyora jin fic?

── WICKED GAME

Synopsis: The first time you see him, Jin Kiyora spits blood at your feet. That is when you are sure you will love him.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Kiyora x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: alcohol/hangovers, reader is drunk and at a party in the first part, mentions of drug use and smoking but NOT by reader or kiyora, blood and violence, sooo much swearing at one point, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…, kiyora is down to punch an mf at all times, he’s probably ooc (if it’s even possible for him to be ooc??), he is NOT bestie approved but like he’s actually a cutie i promise, open ending, implied to be a college au but there’s nothing scholarly or collegiate about it except for the party and the sports mentions, many liberties are taken with kiyora’s backstory and character alike

A/N: hiiii omg i’ve never written kiyora before!! i hope i kinda did him justice?? EEK LMAOAO okay also i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to go in a specific direction so i picked one at random and left it kinda (very) open ended so that way if you/anyone else likes it i can write a pt2 but if not it’s nbd!! it’s just that as you can see it’s already kinda long and i didn’t want to write a ton if people weren’t fucking w it yk 😭 ANYWAYS rambling aside i hope you enjoy!!

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

There is a man screaming at you. You know that he is screaming because his voice pierces the drunken haze settled over your mind, shame shooting through that spinning, floating sensation, and you know it is at you specifically because he is glaring and it’s not at your best friend or the other girl you came with, it’s at you and only you. He’s glaring and saying something over and over again, but all you can do is tilt your head at him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he says. “Get the fuck out. Why the fuck are you still here?”

More of his sentences than not are just that word. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s unnecessarily angry. You try to think — what did you do? Your best friend places one hand on your arm, and you’re pretty sure she’s telling you it’s not worth it, that you all should just go, but your drink is still half-full and you want to finish it before you leave.

“Why are you mad?” you mumble, fascinated by the pinkness of the alcohol, the way it contrasts against the white plastic of your cup.

His eyes are open and wild, and before you know it he is reaching out for you. Your best friend pulls you back just in time, and she shrieks for help as his fingers close around nothing, but the music is loud and the crowd is thick and there’s no way anyone will hear her.

You’re still confused. The man is still angry. You try to recall the conversation you’ve had with him up until this point — well, it wasn’t really much of a conversation to begin with. What had even happened? 

“He’s on something,” your best friend hisses in your ear as she ushers you through the crowd. “No way this is just a couple of beers talking. All you did was ask him if his watch was real, and he totally flipped out.”

Right, that does sound familiar. You giggle as she shoves you outside, because it’s altogether hilarious. The other girl is hanging onto your best friend’s other arm and whining about how you had to leave the party early, and your best friend’s face is pale, her hair sticking to her forehead, but you’re not thinking about any of that. At least, it’s not at the forefront of your mind; instead, you’re wondering why that man has followed the three of you.

“I’m going to call the cops if you don’t leave!” he says, and it’s all you can do to lurch backwards as he stops on the porch. He’s intimidating, you can see that better in the light, and even though you’re more lost than anything, you’re pretty sure you should be afraid, too.

“Is this even your house?” you say sleepily. “Won’t the cops shut down your party first?”

It’s not his party or his house. You know that because the person who threw it is the one who invited you and your friends, but for some reason, this man is dead-set on the fact that you are some kind of intruder.

“The only ones that’ll be getting in trouble if the cops come are you guys, for fucking trespassing,” he snaps. “You’re not invited here!”

“We are,” you say. “Wanna see?”

You’re about to pull out your phone, but your best friend slaps your hand and shakes her head. The man is flushed now, and slowly, you put the phone back in your pocket, pursing your lips and avoiding his gaze.

“I’m serious. Don’t make me say it again, you fucking—”

“Woah, dude. Didn’t know that was your new thing,” a new voice says. You don’t recognize the speaker, but you can tell that he’s pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes that shimmer in the flickering porch light. He’s sitting on the porch swing, his feet kicked up on the railing, and there’s an unlit cigarette in his hands. When he notices you staring at it, he shrugs and flicks it to the ground. “It’s not mine. Some girl asked if I wanted it and left before I could say no.”

“Kiyora,” the man sneers. His attention has been diverted entirely, and the newcomer — Kiyora — stands casually, lazily. He’s slouching, but you can tell despite his posture that he’s a slip of a person, with needle-like features and a scowl that somehow resembles a grin. 

“Sup,” he says. “You into bothering girls now?”

“Stay out of this,” the man says. “You weren’t invited, either.”

“Eh,” Kiyora says. “I don’t need an invitation.”

“I’m being serious,” he said. “You don’t get what a fucking bitch she is.”

Kiyora glances over at you, and it’s like he’s weighing his options. And although it would be just as easy for you to run — it’s what your best friend is urging you to do, it’s what you should do — you can’t help but wait. You can’t help but want to know what he’ll decide.

“Y/N,” your best friend pleads. “Come on, let’s just go while we can.”

“I want another drink,” the other girl says. “Just one more shot? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“No more shots tonight,” your best friend says. “Y/N, I’m being serious.”

That’s when Kiyora smiles slightly, and then he’s drawing his fist back and punching the man. Your best friend gasps, and even the other girl yelps, but you are enthralled by it. The man howls, and then he’s charging at Kiyora and they’re falling down the porch stairs and it’s a whirlwind of blows and shouts and cursing as they rip up the grass of the front yard with the fury of their spat.

It’s over almost as soon as it begins. The man’s collar is clenched in one of Kiyora’s fists, and his eyes are glimmering with tears at the way Kiyora looms over him, the other fist prepared to hit him again. The hollows of the man’s face are all blue and bruised, and he slaps lightly against Kiyora’s forearm in surrender. Kiyora gives him a measured look that’s somehow mocking, and then he lets him go. He stays on the ground, lying prone and motionless, and your best friend — she’s always been so empathetic, even though hardly anyone ever deserves it — tells the other girl to sit and wait before she rushes inside to alert the owner of the house.

“There we go,” Kiyora says, dusting himself off and springing to his feet, rolling his shoulders like he’s waking up from a long nap. “What a wimp. Can’t be talking that kind of shit if you don’t even have the skills to back it up.”

“You stood up for me,” you say. “Thank you.”

He raises his eyebrows, and then he makes a face. You realize he’s not escaped unscathed at the exact moment that he spits a mouthful of blood into the grass before you, his lower lip shiny and split, the same angry color as the crimson in the grass. You gaze at the way it dissolves into the dirt, and then you step over it, meaning to embrace him but mostly just collapsing into his arms. He catches you by reflex, not out of desire, and then he snorts.

“It’s not like I really did it for you, so don’t thank me,” he says. His nose is bleeding, too. You’re sure of it, because something warm dribbles onto your shirt, the stain blooming like rust against the lacy left strap. It’s a white top, thin and deep in the front, and it’s one of your favorites, but shockingly, you’re not angry that it’s been ruined.

“Why’d you do it, then?” you say.

“Couldn’t tell you,” he says. “I guess I just thought that your side was the right one to pick this time.”

To you, it sounds like the same thing, but it must’ve meant something different, because he sounds incredibly sure of himself. You hum in agreement, and then Kiyora nudges you off of him, motioning over to where the other girl — she’s your best friend’s new roommate, and you think her name might start with a C, but you can’t really recall — is sitting on the curb alone.

“Go sit with your friend,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, though you pause before you can join her. “Wait. Is your name Kiyora?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Y/N,” you say. “I’m Y/N.”

“’Kay,” he says. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Nice to meet you, Kiyora.”

He finds this funny, chuckling as you stumble over to the curb, sitting next to the girl, who’s texting someone with a big red x in their contact name. That probably means she shouldn’t be talking to them, but all you do is lean your head against her shoulder. You’re not the type to reprimand anyone, not when you’re like this. Maybe a few drinks or a few hours earlier, you would’ve said something, but at the moment, your mind is preoccupied with your newest fixation.

Your best friend comes out with the owner of the house, and then she makes a beeline for where you are sitting. Helping you to your feet, she drags you back in the direction of her apartment, plucking her roommate’s phone out of her hands and ignoring her arguments, instead turning to you.

“What the hell happened to your shirt?” she says. “Did that — did they hurt you too? Are you okay?”

“What?” you say. “No, I’m fine. Hey, listen. I want him.”

“Want who?” she says.

“Kiyora,” you say. 

“The dude who beat that other guy up?” she says. You nod. Her brows knit together, and she shakes her head. “You need to sober up.”

“I’ll still want him when I’m sober,” you say.

“Then you’re sick in the head,” she says. “But I guess that’s nothing new.”

The next morning, you wake up on your best friend’s couch. Your makeup is blurred and messy on your face, the remnants of your mascara forming dark shadows under your eyes, and your clothes are rumpled. You are close to throwing up, and your head is pounding, so you trudge over to the bathroom, which is thankfully empty. 

In the mirror, things look even worse. Your once-white shirt has remnants of your drink splashed on the front, and the left strap is a flaky sanguine, the color bleeding into the place where your heart beats behind your breast. It’s frightening at first, but dimly, you remember that the blood is not your own. It nearly could’ve been, but it isn’t, because you were saved. Someone took your side, and he saved you, and it’s his blood that you’re covered in.

“Damn.” It’s your best friend’s other roommate, the one who didn’t go out with you three last night. You don’t remember her name, either, or maybe she just never introduced herself. “What kind of night did you have?”

“Not my best,” you admit with a yawn. 

“Yeah, no shit,” she says, going to the other sink and running her toothbrush under the water. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say, because anything more makes the knife in your head twist more and more. “Just need a shower. Some dude freaked out on us last night.”

“Is that what happened?” she says. “D’you need a doctor or something?”

“It’s not mine,” you say. “Some other guy fought him off for me. His nose bled all over my shoulder when I tried hugging him afterwards.”

“What a hero,” she says, running a washcloth along her face. “Was he cute?”

“Does that matter?” you say. She winks at you in the mirror.

“Obviously. If he’s good-looking, you should try to find him and thank him while you’re sober. If he’s not, then you can just let it go,” she says. 

“Yeah, he was cute,” you say after thinking about it for a moment. “I’m pretty sure I liked him. Last night, I mean.”

“Yeah?” she says. “Did you get a name or some other way to contact him?”

“Uh, his name is Kiyora, I think,” you say. 

“Kiyora?” she says. “What does he look like?”

“He’s not that tall,” you say. “Dark hair. Pretty eyes, though I can’t quite remember what color they were.”

“I can’t say I know him,” she says. “Maybe you can try social media, though.”

“I think that might be my best bet,” you agree, taking off your shirt and tossing it to the ground, stepping out of your pants and reaching into the cabinet for a spare towel. “Do you mind if I just shower in here?”

“No worries, I’m almost done,” she says, squeezing sunscreen out of a small tube and massaging it into her cheeks. “You know how to work the shower?”

“Yup. Spent more nights here than I’d like to admit,” you said. The girl laughs at this, patting you on the shoulder.

“Happens to the best of us. Better you’re here than with some random guy, though, right?” she says.

“Right,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Hope you can find him!” she says, and then she’s shutting the bathroom door behind her. You reach out and lock it before stripping fully, turning the faucet so that the water is as hot as you can bear and then sighing as it streams onto your face and body, rinsing off all of the proof of the previous night.

You kick your dirty clothes into a pile in the corner, wrapping a towel around your body and leaving the bathroom in a rush of steam. Your best friend is waiting in the kitchen, sipping coffee from a chipped mug, her hair in a messy bun and an untouched bowl of cereal in front of her. When she notices you, she smiles.

“Good morning,” she says. 

“Good morning,” you say, ducking into her bedroom and pulling on the clothes you’d left in her closet weeks ago for times like these. 

“How are you today?” she says.

“I’ve been better,” you say. “But I’m alive.” 

“Want breakfast?” she says.

“I might throw up if I eat,” you say.

“You’ll definitely throw up if you don’t. Just eat something light,” she says, gesturing in the direction of her pantry, as if to say take what you want.

You sit across from her, a random snack with bears on the packaging in one hand and your phone in the other. There’s a litany of unread text messages that you need to go through, so you squint your eyes against the glare of the screen and begin to read them.

Most of them are just people from the party asking you if you’re doing alright, since to their knowledge you left abruptly and without explanation. There’s one from your own roommate, asking you if you’ve watered the plants on the balcony in the past few days or not. You give one-or-two word answers to the majority, but there’s one message that catches your eye.

‘Hey, Y/N. I’m really sorry about last night — apparently that guy brought a whole cocktail of drugs with him, and that’s why he went all crazy. I hope you’re okay, and that you don’t think badly of me now.’

There’s a crying emoji followed by a praying one. It’s the guy who invited you and your best friend to the party; ordinarily, you would’ve blocked him, but now you need his help, so, with a frown, you type out your response.

‘Honestly, it was pretty scary, but luckily that other guy was there, so nothing too awful happened. Speaking of which, do you know anything about him?’

There’s a pause that you can only imagine is him typing out his response, and then your darkening phone screen lights up with a notification.

‘Kiyora? He’s on the soccer team with a couple of my other friends. He’s not really close with any of them, but he’ll show up to our parties every now and again if they let him know where the address is. He’s kind of weird, but I guess it’s a good thing he happened to be there last night.’

‘Hm.’

‘His first name’s Jin, and apparently he’s addicted to grape candy — everyone makes fun of him for it. That’s about all I know.’

‘Thanks anyways.’

‘Anytime! Hope to see you at another party :)’

You consider blocking him now that you’ve gotten everything you can out of him, but there’s no point, so you just turn your phone off without responding, laying it face-down so you can ignore whoever else tries to reach out to you. Your best friend finally takes a bite of her cereal; you don’t know if she’s inspired by you or if she’s finally finished with her coffee. When you look over at her mug, you find it’s the latter.

“How much do you remember?” she asks you.

“Enough,” you say. “I’m going to find him.”

“Kiyora?” she says. When you nod, she can only pinch the bridge of her nose. “I should’ve known.”

“What do you have against him? He helped us out,” you say.

“Besides the fact that he beat that guy’s face into a pulp?” she says.

“That guy would’ve done the same to me,” you say.

“Not if you had just left when I told you to,” she reminds you. You can’t rebut this, and she knows it, because she tries her level best to avoid sounding condescending in the ensuing statement. “That’s the kind of person that you’re supposed to avoid, you know.”

“We don’t know anything about him,” you say. “We can’t judge him based on one night, especially given the circumstances.”

“That’s true,” she says. She’s like that, always quicker to give allowances than you are. You’re sure she’ll forgive him before he even realizes he’s done anything to forgive. “So, what, you just want to see what kind of person he is and go from there?”

“Basically,” you say, even though the more you mull it over, the more you’re convinced that there’s not really much that’ll change your mind. She wipes at a droplet of milk that lingers on the corner of her mouth, and then she exhales heavily.

“Yeah, alright,” she says. “I don’t think anything I say is going to stop you, so why bother?”

“You know me so well,” you say. “Want anything from the convenience store? I need to get some aspirin. My head is killing me.”

“Mine, too,” she says with a groan. “Can you get a pack for me? I think we’re out.”

“Sure,” you say, slinging your purse over your shoulder and shoving your feet in a pair of slippers. You’re pretty sure you look horrible, all lumpy and formless in an outfit that’s about two sizes too large for you, but you can’t be bothered to change, and at least you’re clean, which is more than you could say an hour ago. Waving at your best friend, you leave her apartment, careful to shut the door slowly, so as not to wake up her final roommate, who is still sleeping soundly. You envy her a bit, but then again, if you had woken up any later, you’d have had to add grogginess to your list of complaints, so maybe it’s for the best.

The convenience store is fairly empty. There’s a cashier dozing off by the checkout station, and a television showing the security footage — you stop and wave at your reflection, as you always do — but other than that, you’re the only one in the building.

As you’re browsing through the medicine section, weighing the merits of buying the generic version or if you should just get the name-brand, there is the swooshing sound of the automatic doors sliding open. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, so you pick up two boxes of the generic kind and make your way to the cashier, but then you freeze, because the figure which has slipped into the candy section is one you wouldn’t normally pay attention to but has suddenly become one you are particularly concerned with.

“Kiyora!” you hiss, ducking into the candy aisle. To your delight, he spins around at once, and he looks much the same as you remembered him from the previous night, which means it really is him. A violet mark stands out angrily against the paleness of his cheek, and his lower lip is still a bit swollen, but he wears it well, like some kind of badge of honor. 

At first, he narrows his eyes at you, but then they light up with recognition, and he smiles imperceptibly. It’s barely there, barely enough to be qualified as a smile in the first place, yet you know that that’s what it is.

“Hey,” he says. “Hangover hitting you bad?”

He’s talking about the medicine in your hands. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Pretty much,” you say. “What about you?”

“I didn’t drink last night,” he says. “It’s bad for your body, and I’m supposed to maintain mine. Top athlete and all, you know how it is.”

This is accompanied by a subtle roll of his eyes, and you snicker at his impudence.

“Naturally,” you say. “But I was referring more to, ah…that.”

You don’t really know a more graceful way to refer to it, but he seems to pick up on what you’re talking about.

“I’ve had worse,” he says. “He really was all bark and no bite. Wasn’t a big deal.”

“Still, thank you again,” you say.

“Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t for you? Don’t say thanks. It’s embarrassing,” he says.

“On my part or yours?” you say.

“Both,” he says.

“Alright, sorry,” you say. “But wait. What do you mean, you’ve had worse?”

“I dabbled in boxing for a while,” he says.

“You played two affiliated sports at once?” you say. “That’s impressive.”

“Well, one of them wasn’t affiliated,” he says, stooping over and picking up a box of grape candy — of course, he was reputedly obsessed with it, so you shouldn’t have been surprised by his presence in the convenience store at all. “I guess a better name would be street fighting. My older brother got into it after he didn’t cut it as a soccer player, and he convinced me to try it out for a bit. It was good money.”

“That’s cool,” you say, somewhat at a loss for words, finding it all too easy to imagine him in that kind of situation.

“Lame as hell, actually,” he says. “I’m better at soccer, anyways.”

He says it so nonchalantly that you have to laugh. He’s taken aback, and he doesn’t laugh along with you, but he’s clearly not upset, because that same not-smile remains on his face.

“That’s good to hear,” you say. “I don’t know if my best friend would approve of me talking to an underground street fighter.”

“You can safely tell her I’m reformed,” he says. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“You remembered?” you say.

“I told you I didn’t drink last night. Why would I forget?” he says. 

“That’s true,” you say. “Yeah. Y/N.”

“Got any reason to be talking to me against your best friend’s wishes, Y/N?” he says, walking by your side towards the cashier. The way your name sounds coming from him is different. He says it like it’s the final piece to a game that he’s been wanting to play, and you’re not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but if it’s the latter, then it’s too late. Somehow, he’s made it so that this game is one you want to play, too, or maybe it’s that you’re playing it already, have been playing it since before you even knew of its existence.

“I guess our ideas of what’s in my best interests just don’t align,” you say.

“Is that so? What does she believe to be in your best interests?” he says.

“Staying away from you,” you say.

“And you?” he says.

“The opposite,” you say, swiping your credit card and putting the twin boxes of medicine into the wide front pocket of your sweatshirt. He does the same, opening the box of grape candy and popping a piece into his mouth. You notice that he does not offer you one, but you weren’t hoping he would, so you’re not disappointed or anything. Just amused.

“Interesting,” he says. “What about me makes you sure that being around me is in your best interests?”

“I’m sure my chances of getting hurt will be a lot less, for one,” you say. 

“Not necessarily,” he says. “Maybe I won’t take your side one day. Maybe I’ll be the one to hurt you. Then what happens?”

“Hm,” you say. It’s such a bizarre thing to say to someone who you’ve only met one-and-a-half times — the meeting last night only counts for half, considering how out of your mind you were — but he does it with a straight face, like it’s a serious dilemma. “I don’t think you’d do that.”

“You don’t?” he says.

“Nah,” you say. “I’d never provoke you into fighting me.”

“How can you be sure of that?” he says. You tear open the aspirin’s cardboard packaging, swallowing the pill dry and praying it works quickly. It catches in your throat, so you swallow again in an attempt to dislodge it. Kiyora watches you, and once you are successful in the endeavor, he silently hands you a piece of grape candy.

“People tell me I’m easy to get along with,” you say. The candy is sour and sparkles in your mouth; you do your best to savor the taste, but it’s gone as soon as you’re aware of it, melting away into air on your tongue.

“That guy from last night didn’t seem to think so,” he points out.

“He was mad that I asked if his watch was real. Normal people wouldn’t care about that,” you say. “I doubt you would.”

“I guess I wouldn’t,” he says. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you say, though you don’t quite know what you’re agreeing to. He gives you another piece of candy, and then he actually smiles; the tip of his tongue is purple, too, just like that bruise of his. You wonder if yours will turn the same shade, and then you accept the candy regardless. It’s kind of delightful, the thought of matching with him in that secret way.

“You’re kind of funny, Y/N,” he says. 

“I do my best,” you say. “You’re not bad yourself.”

“You’re probably the only person who thinks that,” he says.

“Then maybe the others are missing out,” you say. He glances at the ground, but you think he seems happy, not upset.

“Maybe,” he says.

“Anyways, I should probably get back,” you say, because you’ve reached the intersection where you have to turn right, and it seems he has every intention of going straight. “But I can see you again, right?”

He cocks his head at you, and then, magically, he produces a pen from the pocket of his sweatpants, which are of that infuriating depth that supposedly only men deserve. Scribbling something on the box of grape candy, he presses it in your hand.

“Later,” he says, because the light has changed and he has to cross the street now. You watch him go, and then you peer at the small box. His handwriting is cramped and spiky, but you can make it out without too much trouble.

The box is empty, devoid of anything sweet, but he’s given you a much greater treasure, so you hold it close to your heart as you scurry to your best friend’s apartment, trying to fight back the grin that threatens to split your face the entire way back.

“So, let me get this straight — he gave you his phone number?” your best friend says. She had showered in the time you spent at the convenience store, and now that she has an aspirin in her system and moisturizer on her face, she looks like an entirely different person, a brighter and more cheerful one who isn’t going to judge you for whatever you say next.

“Yes,” you say, incredibly focused on creating a new contact for Kiyora. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Depends on who you’re asking,” she says. 

“Me,” you say.

“Then yeah, I’d say so,” she says. “He’s obviously into you.”

“I hope so,” you say.

“Who wouldn’t be?” she says. “You know what this means, right? It’s time for us to do reconnaissance.”

You grin, because you know exactly what that means. She pulls out her tablet and opens it to a random social media site, and so begins your investigation into the enigma that is Jin Kiyora.

“What the fuck?” you say. The two of you have been working for longer than you’d like to admit, yet you’ve learned frighteningly little about him. He plays soccer, and he seems to be quite good at it, given the few blurry highlights you managed to dredge up from his high school days. He has two brothers, both of whom post a ton but never about him. He once made the news in his hometown for breaking the mayor’s son’s nose — your best friend clicks her tongue at that, but you are sure he had a reason for doing it, so you remain unfazed. Otherwise, though, there’s nothing. He’s inactive on social media, which makes you doubly glad that you ran into him earlier, and if he has friends, then none of them seem to want to make that information public.

“It’s like he doesn’t exist,” your best friend says. “Honestly, I kind of fuck with it.”

“That’s a change of tune,” you say. She hums, typing something into her tablet and then shaking her head when the search results come up empty.

“Well, you know. It’s always nice when a man isn’t active online. Although, then again, in this case it could be because he doesn’t want a digital footprint that incriminates him or something,” she says.

“He’s not a criminal,” you say. She taps her finger against the article about him breaking the mayor’s son’s nose, and you cringe. “Okay, but he wasn’t arrested for that, so I’m technically still right.”

“Uh, sure, but this is the second account we have of him getting in a fight. Who knows? Maybe it’s like a hobby for him,” she says. At that moment, you decide to omit the fact that it actually was a hobby for him until an indeterminate amount of time ago. 

“We don’t know why he did it,” you say. “Maybe the mayor’s kid was a bully. The guy last night definitely was. Come on, you can’t say you’re not at least a little grateful to him for stepping in and sticking up for us.”

He has insisted twice now that he didn’t do it for you, but you’ll take anything that endears him to your best friend, so you don’t mention that, either.

“That whole situation was terrifying,” she says, hugging herself tightly. “For one, it was scary that that guy flipped out on you, but it’s not like seeing Kiyora beat him up was particularly soothing.”

“You’re nicer than me by far,” you say, for probably the thousandth time. “I found it pretty gratifying to watch. I mean, he had no trouble threatening us; why shouldn’t he have had to back up his words with action? Obviously, he wasn’t expecting us to be able to fight back, so he ran his mouth to his heart’s content, but he had the misfortune of doing it in front of the wrong person, and he got what was coming for him. That’s his fault. So, in a sense, what Kiyora did was just a form of justice.”

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” she says. “I still kinda feel bad for the other guy, considering he definitely wasn’t in his senses, and after all Kiyora did punch him first, but it was a tense atmosphere. Who knows how another person might’ve reacted? It’s wrong to judge when things were so precarious and prone to snapping at any second. Of course, what he did wasn’t perfect, but you can’t really expect perfection from anyone, can you?”

Again, she’s better than you. You don’t know if you will ever feel bad for the man from last night, or if you could ever forgive someone as quickly as she has forgiven Kiyora. But if you count all of the times she’s proven to be the gentler of you two, it’ll take you ages, so you just add this occasion to the list and internally celebrate your good fortune.

“I’m going to text him,” you say, showing her your phone screen.

“What are you going to say?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Maybe hi, to start?”

“Make sure you add your name, since he doesn’t have your number,” she says.

“Oh, good idea,” you say, typing out your initial message and handing it to her so she can proofread it. She nods, and you hit send, a pit forming in your stomach as you wait for a text back.

‘Hi! This is Y/N from earlier!’

It’s almost immediate, his response, and you high-five your best friend when your phone vibrates, deciding to forget the whole play-it-cool advice that’s so predominant online and opening it immediately.

‘Hi Y/N.’

A second later, there’s another buzz, and another text. You laugh when you see it, because it’s very tongue-in-cheek and already, you can imagine the kind of expression that he’s wearing as he’s typing, although you hardly know him.

‘This is Kiyora btw.’

“He’s not afraid to joke around,” your best friend says, reading over your shoulder. “That’s a good sign. Imagine he was super dry and boring over text. You’d have to ghost him.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “What should I say now?”

Before she can respond, he’s sent another text. This earns a round of applause and a whoop from her, albeit a quiet one, since the roommate you went out with last night is somehow still asleep.

“Triple text!” she says. “This is great! Ah, I mean. It’s great if you still want him.”

“Of course I do,” you say, heat rising in your face as you realize what’s he’s just asked you.

‘So. Are you free next Saturday?’

The restaurant Kiyora tells you to meet him at is the opposite of fancy. You almost mistake it for a gas station, because it’s right next to one and located at random on the side of the road, but luckily you stop the car in time and manage to pull into the parking lot. You’re a little overdressed, but at least you’ll make a good impression, or so you hope, because the last few times you’ve seen him haven’t exactly shown off your greatest assets.

He’s already inside, though he hasn’t sat at a table yet and you’re ten minutes early. The place is almost empty save for him and a few employees, and the lights are a harsh, fluorescent white that throws his features into greater relief, but the effect’s a little angelic. A bell chimes to announce your entrance, and he glances over his shoulder, his furrowed brow relaxing when he sees that it’s you.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you say. A cheesy ballad from either the late 80s or the early 90s plays from the radio at the counter, and a ceiling fan whirs in the background, but it’s otherwise pretty quiet.

“It’s my uncle’s place,” he says, leading you to a table without waiting for the hostess — a girl of probably about sixteen or seventeen, who’s playing on her phone and doesn’t look up at either of you — to do anything. “Got him to close early for the night so it’s just us.”

“Oh, wow,” you say. “Thank you. That’s actually really sweet.”

He hands you a menu. “I don’t like being around that many people. It’s a little claustrophobic.”

“I get it,” you say. “I think every time I’ve ended up in a big crowd, it’s ended kinda badly for me, so it’s nice to not have to worry about that.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says. For a moment, neither of you say anything, though probably for different reasons — he’s busy reading a menu, and you’re trying to think of a way to bring up his past grievances, especially the ones of the punching-a-mayor’s-son variety, without sounding like a stalker.

“What made you quit street fighting?” you say.

“Do you want appetizers?” he says, at exactly the same time. Then he pauses, your question registering. “Oh.”

“Appetizers are good,” you say.

“It was just too much,” he says. “I don’t know. I never liked it. I only stayed because I got paid well, but it became more trouble than it was worth.”

“What’s that mean?” you say. He’s obviously a bit uncomfortable with the line of questioning, squirming in his seat, but your best friend is right. That’s the kind of thing you should probably know about him before you let yourself get any deeper.

“The mayor’s jackass son started showing up, placing bets and all. He was a real dick,” he begins. You’re surprised that you’ve ended up at your end goal already; you were sure it’d take a bit more prodding until you reached the heart of the story, but it seems you’ve chanced upon it without even trying. He rolls his eyes and scoffs as he continues. “One time he asked if he could try fighting himself. Picked me as his opponent because I was the shortest and, therefore, the weakest. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you say, though not without a snicker, because from what you know of him, you doubt he could be considered the weakest in any company. “Then what?”

“Then I did the world a favor and broke his ugly fucking nose so he had an excuse to fix it, that’s what,” he says. “His dad wasn’t too happy.”

“That’s to be expected,” you say.

“Yup. After that, he told me I had to get my act together or there would be real disciplinary consequences, so I gave it up and focused everything I had on soccer instead,” he says. 

“I’m glad,” you say.

“Are you?” he says.

“You probably don’t get hurt quite as much playing soccer,” you say. “Even though it’s possible to get injured, it’s not as common.”

“True,” he says. “Most players are just faking it, anyways, so it’s definitely not common in the slightest.”

“Well, that’s all. I think it’s better that you don’t get hurt,” you say. “I don’t want you to. So stick with soccer.”

His lips form a thin, hard line, but there are dimples in his cheeks that make it obvious what he’s trying to suppress. Clearing his throat, he reopens his menu and points at one of the appetizers.

“Is this one alright with you?” he asks.

You’re looking at him when you answer, not the menu. Whatever it is, you’ll eat it, or if it’s really horrible, you’ll leave it for him. You’d rather spend that precious second admiring his features when he’s unaware of your gaze. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

His eyes flick up to meet your own, and then, impossibly, a pale pink blush dusts across his nose and cheeks.

“I’ll tell my uncle that that’s what we want, then,” he says, standing up and darting off towards the kitchens without another word. He walks with a kind of intrinsic rhythm, like he’s dancing, though there’s nothing about his gait otherwise that suggests any sort of musicality. It’s fascinating. He’s fascinating. 

You are certain, before he even returns, before you even eat, before you even part ways, that this will not be the last time you see him. At least you pray it won’t be, because you think you’re like a moth, and he’s like a flame, and there’s enough stories about moths and flames that you know how these things typically end, or at least you’re pretty sure you do. It doesn’t matter, though. None of it matters, because you’ve never been so utterly taken by anything the way you are with Jin Kiyora and his bruised face and his split knuckles and his grape-colored tongue.

There’s another thing you’re certain of now, or have been for a while: you don’t love him yet, of course you don’t, but you will. Inescapably, inevitably, you will.

[wolfiesmoon]

Hiiii! (I hope this is the place to make requests aaaaa haven’t done this in a W H I L E) but can I request pocky challenge headcanons for Floyd, Vil, and Idia? :)

Hope you’re having a great week and I love your writing :D

the way i freaked out over receiving this omg i'm so happy u like my writing😭😭😭

i love pocky challenge fics and you really fed me with the characters you chose since I have like 3467346826428 vil and idia drafts i can't get into rn. also we already know how my brain is rotting over floyd the eel boy at the moment

ALSO ALSO ALSO you aren't dating yet in these!! you're still just friends (but not for long😈)

(@kairiscorner i borrowed ur idea of picking out what flavour would fit them to add a little spice, I hope u don't mind!)

☾⋆⁺₊ Floyd Leech + Pocky Colorful

he gets really excited when you pull out the box of pockies 😆i mean, sharing food with you????? that's, like, the third best thing he can do with you!

and these pockies look rlly funny too, what does "colorful" even taste like? He's kinda in a mood to find out 😌

and gets even MORE excited when you mention the challenge!!!!

I mean, kissing AND sharing food with you?! he calls that a win for sure 😤😤😤😤

you're rlly surprised at how casual he is about it considering you just challenged him to try and kiss you essentially

but okay, i guess it is kinda Floydcore to just casually agree to a pocky game with no blushing or getting flustered (i suppose this means he likes you back??? what a mystery he is...)

you laugh to yourself at the silly grin on his face as u pull out a pocky and place one end into your mouth, leaning towards him to let him take the other end

he does so and you close your eyes, feeling kinda giddy all of a sudden

but you can still feel his downturned peepers staring a hole into you, curious to see every facial movement and reaction you may have👁️👁️

he must be really excited then!! (even if you feel extremely unsettled rn)

you slowly bite down on the stick, getting nervous. you can definitely hear him crunching on it too...

you can feel his breath, your noses bump for a moment and you think "THIS IS IT THIS IS IT THIS IS IT"

but then you hear a *snap* and the pocky falls out of your mouth... what just happened?

"I bit into it a bit too hard..." You open your eyes to see Floyd pouting like a toddler who was told he can't have candy

"It's okay, we can do it again!" you take out another pocky stick, placing the end in your mouth and looking at him expectantly

must be hard having such sharp teeth sometimes💔

"Now I don't feel like it anymore." Floyd huffed, getting up and walking away💀

That little... you still love him anyway tho🤷🏻

☾⋆⁺₊ Vil Schoenheit + Apple Yogurt Pocky

initially, he'd refuse since pockies are sweets and he needs to watch his sugar if he wants to keep his model figure and his clear skin

but he supposes sugar is nice to enjoy every once in a while (especially if he gets to share it with you)

but THEN you ask him if he's ever heard of the pocky challenge before😈

"I have heard of it in passing but I don't know what is actually is, why?" he raises an eyebrow, recalling some comments from his fans talking about it after the Pocky commercial he was in

"Becauuuuse, I think you should do it with me." you blink at him innocently before going on to explain the rules and seeing his eyes widen 😌

"So, what you're saying is... If neither of us back out, we kiss?"

WAIT WHAT

You actually expected him to turn you down immediately and chew you out for even making the suggestion since you're just friends but this certainly took a turn for the better

"Precisely." you smirked

"Just so you know, I'm not one to back out once I set my mind onto something." he smirked back at you, taking out a pocky stick from the box and placing it in front of your mouth for you to bite onto

the stick slowly begins to get smaller as your lips inch closer to his and you grip the couch you're currently sat on nervously

You take another bite and suddenly feel his lips on yours🤭

SUCCESS! SUCCESS! SUCCE-

"Oh? This is an interesting flavour~"

wait... you recognise that voice😨

"ROOK?!" the two of you separated and yelled at the same time, then turned your heads to see Rook casually enjoying your Pocky beside you

"Did you both enjoy the flavour as well?" Rook smiled innocently at you, taking out another one from the box

Vil pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling something under his breath while you just sat there in shock🧍🏻

☾⋆⁺₊ Idia Shroud + Sakura Pocky

being the candy enjoyer that he is, he would never turn down free pocky (especially not his favourite... which speaking of, how did you know that one is his favourite?)

(ortho supplied you with that information)

however, his smile dropped when you started talking about the challenge all of a sudden

and he became all red instead🤭

"You got all that?" you asked, waving the pocky stick in front of his face with an innocent smile

"D-Do I- Do I...."

babe, he cannot form a sentence right now, much less process anything you just told him. you cannot POSSIBLY expect him to give you a clear answer right now🙄

"Oh, do you not wanna do it? That's fine." you get up, ready to leave (you're doing this on purpose, manipulation is key😈)

but no, seriously, you weren't going to make him do anything he was uncomfortable with, and you kinda expected a reaction like this anyways😭

"N-No, No, I want to..." he grabs onto your sleeve awkwardly, literally shaking from embarrasment

you're actually kinda worried, will he even survive till the whole kiss part?

No time like the present to find out, you suppose

you place the pocky in your mouth, waiting for him to bite into the other end. he does and immediately screws his eyes shut, WAAAY too embarrased to look at you

the distance between the two of you slowly closes but when there's just a bit of the pocky stick left he lets go and immediately runs away, hair slightly red at the ends😫

"Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god...." he whispers to himself over and over, thinking about how he almost kissed you just now

atleast he got to eat his favourite flavour...????

"Did it fail?" Ortho came out of his hiding spot and you nodded, pouting slighly☹️

"That's plan G crossed off the list. You wrote down '7 minutes in heaven' for plan H. Though I do not know what that is, I will assist you in any way I can."