#not distressing but distracting and aggravating

[minus-plus-zer0]

Jealousy

♡ Genre: Hurt/comfort, very fluff ending ♡ Pairing: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Reader ♡ Tags: Aged up, established relationships, dating (Jealousy on both sides, it's all unfounded so don't worry! You two are loyal like dogs to each other)

Bakugou was the jealous type.

Everybody in the entire country knew that. There was nothing Bakugou hated more than imagining you leaving him for somebody else. You wanted to tease him about it sometimes, but his jealousy made him so distressed that you ended up comforting him instead.

Currently, Bakugou was still seething at the man who last flirted with you. The guy disappeared into the street's crowd under Bakugou's contemptuous gaze. His anger could only be distracted by you and your words.

"It's okay, Katsuki," you said, while hugging him. "I only love you. I didn't even flirt back, you know?"

"...I know," Bakugou said. He kissed you on the lips, somewhat possessively. When he opened his eyes again, he looked so sad. "One of these days I wonder if you're gonna find somebody better than me."

"Katsuki!" You glared at him. "I could never find someone better than you! You are the sweetest, most loyal guy I've ever met! Even if you do have a temper." You giggled, poking his forehead.

"Dummy." Bakugou rested his forehead against yours, his arm close around your waist. "Sorry. Shouldn't have gotten jealous."

"No, it's okay! Always tell me when you're jealous, always!"

That's how most of Bakugou's jealousy fits went. Over time, Bakugou became less and less easily aggravated, but he still had his possessive moments. But no matter what, he'd never take his anger out on you or try to control you out of fear.

Meanwhile, you rarely got jealous of Bakugou, mainly because you weren't the type but also because there wasn't much to be jealous of. Bakugou made it crystal clear to everyone what he did and didn't like, and you were one of the few things included on the "like" list. In fact, you were the only person ever included on the "love" list.

But despite Bakugou's poor reputation with the public, he still occasionally found fans who fawned over him. These fans sometimes made you uncomfortable.

One day, you two were out in public together in a quiet side path of the town, walking between various shops. Coincidentally, you caught some of his fawning fans exiting a store. Bakugou paid them no attention but you couldn't take your eyes off of the potential "predators" on your relationship. The fans soon passed but not without some loud screeching and several pictures taken without Bakugou's permission. Initially it irritated Bakugou, but you noticed by the end of it he was paying more attention to you.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, seriously. You two walked in the opposite direction of the fans, their voices getting less loud with more distance.

"Of course not..." you lied. "They're just random fans, it doesn't matter."

You didn't want him to tease you for this. This was one of the few times you had to deal with jealousy, and it took you off guard. It was irrational too, and you knew it. Still, you didn't always like being actively reminded that Bakugou could be wanted by others.

Bakugou wasn't having this. He stopped you in the middle of the side path you walked down, his expression focused.

"Don't be jealous, alright?" he said. You opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted. "And don't deny that you are jealous! I've been jealous of you tons of times, so I can recognize that shit anywhere. But it's just your mind playing tricks on you. You're still the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I only go for the best, ya hear me?" He started beaming at you, and you could tell he really meant it. "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff than go back on my promises to you."

That did warm your heart. He caught your lips turning up and his hand brushed against your cheek, but you still shied away from him.

"I just don't get why you chose me," you said. "You've got so many fans. Sometimes I wonder if there are better options for you out there..."

"I fucking doubt it. I have the best judgment and the best taste, so if I chose you, that fucking means something. It means you're as great as me... or better. Now don't go saying that negative stuff about my girlfriend. Or else."

"O-okay! Alright!"

You didn't know what the heck he could be threatening you with, but you didn't want to find out. Regardless, he still looked after you and made sure nothing the fans did ever bothered you. He would never tease you for your jealousy, because he personally knew how much it hurt. You were one of the few people he could trust, and because of that you two were dead loyal to each other no matter the odds.

[nervousyoungtwinfantasydog]

open up your skull, i’ll be there

climbing up the walls

[kittyoncescribbled]

“I can teach you if you’d like.”

Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader

Summary: Sanji finds out you’ve never been kissed, and he’s a very eager teacher;

Word count: 1.6K;

Rating/Content Warnings: PG-16, AFAB reader;

Author’s note: Can you tell I was scared of writing actual smut?

Kissing Sanji was a mistake.

Ever since that night, you just couldn’t stop thinking about him; sometimes, you daydream about it, wishing to drag Sanji by the collar to a secluded area and have another lesson with him. It was embarrassing, really; Zeff would scold you on a daily basis, as you were frequently seen in the kitchen holding a knife in the air or burning the very expensive cut of meat a client had ordered just because you couldn’t forget the feeling of Sanji’s lips on yours.

One time, Sanji was preparing a dish right next to you, and the way his perfume seemed to envelop you got you so distracted that you ended up with a cut on your left thumb and an earful from Zeff about not being an airhead. But was it your fault if the combination of expensive cologne and cigarettes was so enthralling? 

And to add insult to injury, Sanji seemed to be ignoring you — not exactly ignoring you, but more pretending like nothing happened between the both of you. He had even turned down the flirting and was treating you like one of the guys. You had to admit that it hurt, thinking that Sanji seemed unaffected by the whole thing while you couldn't get it off your mind; you wanted it to mean as much to him as it did to you, but honestly, giving that Sanji had his way with so many women before and this was merely a kiss, you couldn’t expect it to be so important to him as it was to you.

But still, it was enough to keep you awake in your cabin at night, pacing back and forth like an entrapped lioness, fighting the urge to stomp your feet like a little child. You had been all set up to bed: in your most comfy pajamas, hair tied up in a bun and skincare routine done, teeth were brushed, and you had a pair of soft socks on, but you were so aggravated by the situation you just couldn’t sleep. Eventually, you had enough, and before you could realize what you were doing, you found yourself at Sanji's door, knocking at a very fast pace.

Sanji opened the door in his pajamas, clearly confused as you passed by him and planted yourself in the middle of the room, tapping your feet furiously and tightly with your arms crossed. The blond looked at you with confusion printed all over his features and opened his arms as if to ask what was happening, letting the door close softly behind him. His cozy night, involving curling up in bed with a book under the dim light he had set up and some scented candles, was clearly canceled. You were distressed, and he would know about it whether he wanted to or not.

“Was I really that bad?” you asked, with a mix of hurt, indignation, and shame tinging your voice. Sanji tilted his head and furrowed his brows, even more confused. “Sorry, sweets, but I’m not following. What are you talking about?”.

Almost involuntarily, you pouted, and Sanji could see a shift in your demeanor. Not confrontational anymore, you seemed embarrassed, and Sanji could see your cheeks getting flushed. “You know… was I that bad? I know you were my first, but I couldn’t have been that bad… right?”

The vision of you all flustered, mindlessly tugging at the hem of your shirt and chewing on your bottom lip, had his heart aching. He never wanted to see you feeling inadequate, let alone be the cause of it. “I’m very sorry if I made you feel that way, Y/N,” he said, approaching you very carefully. “I just thought that’s what you’d want… you’ve never wanted to get involved with any of us, so I just concluded you wouldn’t want me to be all over you”.

Sanji was now less than a couple inches away from you, his voice barely audible, his fingertips ghosting over the few strands of hair that had escaped from your scrunchie, and his eyes locked into yours, the blue irises slowly disappearing as his pupils grew wider. Your lips parted, feeling your heart beating faster and a rush of adrenaline running through your veins; too shy to look up at Sanji directly, you peeked at him through your eyelashes, taking in the look of hunger in his expression. “Just give me the order, sweetheart, and we can continue with your lesson because trust me… I haven't been able to get it out of my mind”. 

You felt a whole swarm of butterflies in your stomach; your heart felt like it was going to explode. Unable to verbalize exactly what was in your mind, you simply nodded while shyly grabbing at Sanji’s sleeve. Slowly, Sanji’s hands made their way to your waist, pressing his body against yours; he was very aware that you were still finding out your boundaries, and he didn’t want to scare you or impose himself. “But we need to have some ground rules… and the first one is that if you’re uncomfortable, you need to tell me, ok? If you don’t feel like doing something or want me to stop, I want you to say it to me”. You nodded eagerly, feeling your heartbeat so fast it seemed like it would jump out of your chest.

Sanji cupped your face in his hands, studying your eyes and making sure you were still on board. “Sorry, sweetie, just a nod won’t do. Be a good girl and use your words.” You parted your lips, mustering up the courage and pretending to ignore the flush of blood that went straight to your cheeks. “Please, Sanji… I need you to kiss me”.

Even though he wanted to grab your face and finally let out the pent-up desire he had been fostering for so long, Sanji managed to compose himself; slowly, he lowered his face until your lips were touching, and a low moan left your parted lips. You had your fingers clutching harder onto his sleeve, trying to pull him as close as you could, and Sanji couldn't contain a smirk when he realized your eagerness. After all, you made yourself as unavailable as possible for so long that it felt like a hazy dream to have you there, in his bedroom, timidly exploring his torso over his pajamas and producing little soft moans that were enough to make his nose bleed.

Slowly, Sanji guided you to his bed; you felt the mattress at the back of your knees and timidly crawled making your way to the pillows. You looked up at Sanji, chewing on your bottom lip, silently asking for guidance. The cook’s smile softened while he positioned himself on top of you, wavy blond strands of hair tickling your face. “It’s okay, princess. You just relax, and I’ll take care of everything,” he said in a low voice, peppering light kisses all over your face. Your eyes fluttered shut while a smile tugged at the corner of your lips, overwhelmed by Sanji's presence, the perfume that lingered on his sheets, his lips all over your face and neck, and his strong hands grabbing at your waist, leaving a fiery trail where his fingers dragged into the patches of skin where your shirt had ridden up had your brain in a haze, allowing yourself for once to trust someone else and letting them take the reigns.

Working in a male-dominated restaurant made you distrustful and unable to display anything that could be mistaken for weakness, even remotely; you knew that if you gave any of the guys an inch, they’d take a mile, so you made a conscious decision to make yourself as distant and unavailable as possible. Sometimes, the guys would make fun of you for being a Strong Independent Woman as you never let any of them take the lead; letting go so someone else could take control was scary but, at the same time… freeing.

Sanji pressed his body on yours, and you could feel his cock against your thigh, and you blushed, your fingers interlocked in his hair, pulling him incredibly closer. Sanji’s hand made its way under your shirt, finding the doughy flash of your tits and expertly rolling your nipples between his fingers. You gasped, giving him a chance to attack your neck and collarbones with kisses and love bites; you felt like your brain had turned into cotton, an overload of sensations taking over you in a delirious way.

In one swift movement, Sanji managed to remove your shirt, exposing your naked torso to his hungry eyes and wandering hands. Sanji captured your left nipple between his lips, his hot tongue making you whimper; the cook couldn't stop the cocky smile that twisted his lips as he rejoiced, knowing he was the only one who was able to hear those sweet little noises.

Without thinking, Sanji's fingers went to your pants' waistband, and he was startled by your hand grabbing his wrist. When Sanji redirected his gaze to your face, his blood went cold: your eyes were big, not hooded or glassy anymore, and you had an almost scared look on your face.

“Can we… Can we stop for now?”

The blond stopped, immediately looking for your shirt. Sanji helped you get dressed and planted a kiss on your brow. He pulled you under the covers and allowed you time to get comfortable—you were cuddled up against his side, first balled up with the blanket pulled against your cheek.

There was no need to rush. There would be plenty of time for him to show you new things.

[cambion-companion]

Domestic Drabbles

Where their small daughter mistakes certain sounds for cries of distress.

Aemond x wife!reader

word count: 675

Silken spun silver curled around your fingers as you dug them into your husband’s hair, pulling him in for another deep kiss as he moved against you.  His weight pushed you further into the plush mattress, warmth enveloping your body as you sighed in pleasure.

The wooden bed frame creaked with each thrust, your whimpers of pleasure barely muffled as you bit into Aemond’s shoulder.

“Māzigon issa jorrāelagon.”  His voice was liquid velvet as he coaxed you to come undone around him.

You cried your release to the vaulted ceiling, feeling Aemond’s hot seed spilling within your heat as your muscles clenched and fluttered.  You pulled him deeper, his forehead coming to rest against yours as you breathed together, gently coming back to earth.

Aemond trailed his lips to the hollow of your throat, his hands caressing the curve of your breast as he tasted your flushed skin.

Amidst the post-coital bliss, wrapped together in a tangle of limbs, you heard the muffled crying of your young daughter.

Together you and Aemond sat up in bed, glancing at each other as he slid smoothly from the mattress, pulling on his clothing before striding with haste from your bedroom.

As you donned a satin robe, tying it securely about your waist, you heard Aemond’s soft voice several rooms away.

Minutes later he reentered the room, looking to you with a mixture of amusement and aggravation.

“Was it a nightmare?”  You asked, tilting your head in question of his prolonged silence.

Aemond shook his head slowly, a small smirk pulling his curved lips. “She is worried for you my dear.”

“Whatever for?”

“She says she heard you screaming and is scared for your well-being.”  You could see he was fighting to keep a stoic composure.

“Was I screaming?”  You ran a distracted hand through your tousled hair.

Aemond hesitated, glancing away from you, his mouth twitching. “I…uh, yes.”  His violet eye crinkled with mirth. “Perhaps you should go assure her you are unharmed.”

You nodded, brushing a kiss on his lips as you passed him into the darkened hallway.

“My darling, are you alright?”  You cooed, finding your silver-haired daughter curled upon her bed, still sniffling with widened eyes.

She reached her arms out to you, evident relief upon her cherub face. “I thought you were hurt!  Your door was closed and you wouldn’t answer me!”

You held you tight against your chest, rocking upon the small bed. “No, no.  I’m alright. I had a bad dream and your father was helping me.”

“O-oh.”  She hiccupped, still holding tight to your robe as you pulled back to look at her face.

“You don’t have to worry about me, my dove.”  You wiped the tears off her cheeks, helping her back under the covers and tucking her in. “When I’m with kepa, I am safe from harm.”

“He helps with your nightmares.”  She nodded, understanding.

You kissed her forehead tenderly. “Yes.  All better?”

“All better.”  Her eyelids were already beginning to close.

You waited for her breathing to deepen before exiting her room, closing the door softly behind you.

Aemond was waiting for you when you returned to your own chamber, he looked over at you with a quirked brow. “And?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I thought she was asleep.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if half the castle were awake by now.” He caught your wrist as you tried to hit his shoulder, pulling you in for a kiss. “Not that I’m complaining.”  He nuzzled your nose laughing as you scrunched it and giggled.

“In a little over a decade she is going to realize the truth and be traumatized.”  

“She is going to know how deeply in love her parents are.”  Aemond captured your mouth once more, smiling against your lips as you sighed with pleasure. “Besides, we have plenty of time to work on your volume control.”  

You giggled madly as Aemond rolled you beneath him, undoing the ties of your robe and spreading it open.  His eye glinted in the dim firelight as he straddled you, looking upon your form. “Now, my love, where were we?”

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 9: [DRAGON AU] lucifer / bonding

ao3 link

note: quick note/clarification just in case: ik has nicknamed lucifer and mammon "boss" and "goldie" respectively, so those are the dragons she's referring to in her narration!

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

“I’m not having any part in this,” Lucifer had said. “This is to be your responsibility only,” He’d said.

He’s… not entirely sure how this happened in the first place. At some point over the last few weeks, he’s gone from disapproving overseer of Mammon’s inexplicable adoption of a human child, to that same child’s primary caretaker.

Mammon is usually in charge of finding her a spot to sleep, but it’s Lucifer who makes sure she eats at the same times as them, or escorts her to the stream every morning so she can wash her face. Occasionally, he brings her strangely-shaped rocks, or sticks and flowers from the forest, so that she has something to play with.

He’s not sure why he feels the need to intervene. He’ll blame Mammon’s incompetence - and the child’s rather unhappy habit of walking straight into mortal danger.

The latest in her series of mishaps involves fish, a river, and a very panicked Levi. Lucifer is - as usual - surveying the territory when his brother comes racing up the hill, and dumps the human in a soggy heap at his feet.

“What now?” He asks, mildly aggravated, then pauses. This isn’t the first time she’s taken a tumble, but this is the sorriest state he’s seen her in so far.

“It’s not moving!” wails Levi, bounding in distressed circles and getting water all over the rocks. “I think— I think I killed it, Lucifer!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He replies, a little distracted by his running. “What hap— will you stop that?!”

Levi skids to a stop. His barbels twitch anxiously.

Lucifer ducks down and nudges the child with his snout. When she doesn’t respond, he puffs a cloud of smoke into her face, then tries again. This time, she makes a bubbly sound.

“Is it alive?” Levi asks anxiously.

“Stop calling her an it, Levi,” He grumbles, then straightens up. “She’s fine.”

“Oh. Okay.” Levi relaxes. He regards the little human for a moment - nose twitching - then flicks his tail and bounds off again.

Lucifer watches him go and heaves a silent sigh. He’s been seeing a new, fickle side to his younger brothers as of late. They can’t seem to decide whether or not they enjoy their new ward’s company.

Well, except Mammon. Perhaps this is the upside of being simple-minded - he doesn’t seem to care about everything that comes attached to the word ‘human’ for dragons like them.

Lucifer isn’t so naive, but it’s hard to look at this half-drowned little creature and think ‘dangerous’. It’s even harder to think ‘cruel’, ‘murderer’, or anything else in between. Still - best not get too attached.

“Up you get.” He attempts to nudge her to her feet. She just coughs pitifully and slumps back onto the ground. “We can find you a sunny spot to dry off in.”

The child - predictably, considering she can’t understand him - doesn’t move. She looks rather ill, actually.

Lucifer thinks for a while. The child blinks up at him with far-too-large eyes as he clicks, ignites the fire in his chest, then settles down beside her.

“Don’t get used to this,” He warns her, which is completely futile, and he knows it. “It’ll be a hassle if you get sick.”

The human doesn’t respond, of course, but manages to prop herself up enough to huddle closer to his side. He finds himself blowing idle smoke rings as he waits for the heat to dry her off.

“Be more careful next time,” He says after a while. “Leave the fishing to Levi.”

The child looks up at him cluelessly, then makes a series of chirpy noises. This is, in particular, is something new to him - he’s used to hearing human language from a distance, in gruff shouts from steel-clad giants, or shrill shrieks from beige-clothed merchants.

The way the child talks is almost musical, lilting from one register to another. The strangest part is that, sometimes, he feels like he might understand.

He supposes he’s a little glad that she doesn’t seem frightened by the growls of dragon-speak. He’s found himself unconsciously making adjustments, anyway - speaking softer, trying not to make the sounds too harsh, as if trying to imitate a human register.

He’s almost dozed off by the time he remembers why he lay down in the first place. He looks down. The child’s gone and fallen asleep, still curled against his side. For some reason, the sight makes him think of baby ducks.

Lucifer contemplates this for a while. Well, he supposes there’s no helping it. Humans must get their rest, especially small ones - otherwise they won’t grow properly.

Which means he might as well stay here. If he’s needed for something, surely it can wait.

-

Boss definitely seems like the most frightening dragon of the lot, but he’s actually pretty easy to get along with - as long as you follow the rules. If he starts rumbling, proceed with caution. If he’s blowing smoke rings, you could start hitting him and he won’t even care.

At least, that’s the impression I have. My fists are of inconsequential force to a dragon with near-impenetrable scales, though, so he might not have even noticed.

Living with dragons is a lot more ordinary than I thought. I had images in my head of them smashing mountains and eating boulders for fun, but mostly they just hang around and play - just like people do.

Apart from Boss. He seems to spend most of his free time standing silently on the mountain peak, staring out into the horizon. Sometimes he goes out hunting, and sometimes he goes for a fly around the forest, but mostly he just… watches.

He’s much more considerate than he looks at first glance. Less brutal killer, more affable-but-irritated caretaker. I knew all the dragon horror stories couldn’t possibly be true, but it’s nice to be vindicated.

I want to try returning the favour, but I’m not sure there’s anything I have - or can get - that a dragon would want. So I pay a little extra attention to what he gets up to the next day, and I note something useful.

Sometimes, while he’s land-watching, the wind whistles through the mountain ridges in just the right way to produce a little song. When that happens, he closes his eyes, and puffs out contented little smoke rings until he notices someone looking. So…

Goldie has a lot of shiny things in his cave. I don’t quite dare touch his main hoard, but he leaves a lot of the less precious-looking things unorganised by the walls - which means there might be something I can use there.

He’s clinking happily through his coin collection when I slip into his cave. He grunts in greeting, then goes back to organising them by colour.

“Hi, Goldie.” I stoop and squint at something small and bony-looking. “Do you think you have a flute or something around here?”

He tilts his head to the side. “Rhh?”

“It’s— ah, don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.” I set aside something that looks like a watch face. “...oh!”

A pan-flute - it’s a little dusty, but not damp at all. I try blowing an experimental little melody. I’m no maestro, but I still think it sounds lovely.

Goldie makes a chittering sound. His spines flatten back as I test just how high the pipes can go.

“Oh— sorry!” He makes a show of ducking down and covering his head with his wings. “Did I hurt your ears?”

He peeks a single blue eye out and trills. It’s funny - neither of us really know what the other’s saying, but we always seem to get the message across anyway.

The next day, as soon as I notice him flapping off to find a vantage point as usual, I scramble after him. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I feel like his spot today is a lot easier to navigate up to than usual - less vertical rock faces, less jagged edges.

I sit down on the ledge beside him. He’s radiating heat, as always - his crimson eyes flick down to me, and stay there.

“I’ve got something to show you,” I announce, then pull out the pan-flute. “Listen.”

His tail flicks cautiously. I bring the flute to my mouth - slowly, so as not to alarm him - and play him a little tune.

Just as he does when the mountains whistle, he closes his eyes and relaxes. The smoke rings come soon after that.

I play through all the tunes I can think of, then improvise a few new ones. Some time after I lapse into silence, Boss opens his eyes again.

Something about him seems to have shifted. A little nervously, I give his dark scales a pat. He snorts (there’s another puff of smoke), but doesn’t look irritated at all.

“Do dragons have names?” I ask him. He just looks at me.

I tilt my head to the side, as if listening to something, then point up at him. He stares for a little while longer, then makes a rough, crackling sound, and looks off into the distance again.

Then he looks at me. Then to the sky. It takes several more tries before I realise he’s trying to draw my attention to something.

“Sun?” I muse. “Is that your name?”

He doesn’t react. I try again. “Sunny?”

Nothing again. What else do you call the sun that’d make a good name for a dragon? “Hmm… Morning-star?”

Or something that means the same thing?

“Lu…cifer?” I try.

He blinks. Then his wings flick up, and he exhales - blowing what I can only assume is a pleased puff of smoke into my face.

I beam up at him. “Do you wanna hear another song?”

I don’t know how much of the question he understands, but his eyes light up when I pick up the pan-flute again. He settles down in that way that so reminds me of a cat, and lifts a wing to shield the bright morning sun from my face.

Lucifer likes music. That’s good to know.

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Byakuya Kuchiki (Bleach)- Oneshot

“Did you see him, it’s Kuchiki-taicho!”

The squeals were the only indication you needed. Whenever new reapers came in this is typically how it went. They’d gush over the captains.

Especially him.

At this point you should expect it. Standing at attention, you watch as the captains walk pass. Truthfully you admire their strength. Your ultimate goal was to someday obtain such a position. It was far-fetched, but you couldn’t help it.

There’s a powerful aura that seems to emit from simply their presence. Your eyes follow every movement. When they connect with a pair of steel gray hues, your body froze. It’s just a glance, nothing more, but it holds much more than you expected. You break eye contact hurriedly, looking down at your feet, flustered.

“What the hell am I doing..”

Why the hell would you look directly at him?

It felt quite the same as declaring a love confession. You huff, agitated and you keep your eyes planted down for the rest of the time that they are there. Once it’s finally over, you feel as though you can finally breathe easy. The lieutenants begin ushering the reapers to their designated squads and you follow as people begin to divide up.

The rest of the week is preparation and training. You’re grateful that you’re a member of the thirteenth squad. Being as far away from Byakuya was ideal. He’s too much of a distraction. You know it’s wrong to harbor any feelings for him. He’s emotionally detached. His views are of duty and protection of the integrity of the Soul Society. Even though that’s the case, you can’t help it. You’d seen him in battle one time and you haven’t been able to get over how effortlessly extraordinary he is.

“This is aggravating.”

Jushiro chuckles and you straighten, flushing. You hadn’t realized that you’d been talking to yourself. You’ve been doing that a lot.

“Is there a reason you are aggravated (Y/N)-san?”

You scratch your head with a laugh.

“I-I was just rambling, it’s nothing really.”

You hope that’s enough for him to drop the topic. There’s a part of you that wonders why you couldn’t have fallen for someone like him. Even if he had rejected you, he probably would have done it so nicely you would end up apologizing. You laugh internally at your thoughts and Jushiro gives you a curious look.

“Ukitake-taicho, is Rukia-san back yet?”

“Ah, no she hasn’t returned. If I remember correctly she should be coming in a few weeks. The head captain has asked that she stay close to Ichigo for the time being to ensure his powers have fully returned.”

“That sounds so cool! Rukia-san always gets the cool missions.” You mumble.

“Given her relationship with Ichigo, I believe the head captain was just trying to avoid the inevitable. Abarai-san has a bad habit of getting into fights when he’s there. He wanted to avoid damage to the town.” You giggle.

“I suppose you are right.”

It’s funny to watch the way they bicker, you’ll admit that. Renji would never say it, but he respects Ichigo. You would too if you’d survived the things he’d been through.

“Do you think that-”

The fluttering of black and crimson wings startles you.

“Ukitake-taicho, there is hollow activity in the tenth squad.”

The alert makes you clench your teeth. It’s not a shock that hollow activity is increasing. With the recent shift in energy, the head captain has accounted for just about everything.

You both take off without so much as another word. There’s a part of you that expects chaos when you land. But Jushiro is wearing the same comical expression at the sight before you.

“We got them Taicho!!”

“Take that stupid hollows!!

“Leave some for me!” Kenpachi calls.

There was obviously no need for cavalry, because members of squad eleven are handling the distress call.

If anything you feel a bit sorry for the hollows. A few of them appear to be running for their lives. One is grabbed by the leg, and you sweatdrop when Kenpachi grins down at the very large beast.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

It’s sweating profusely. All he does is swing his hand. It’s flying into the air. You know he intends to go after it. At least you think he does. There’s nothing but a glowing light in the distance like a star of its descent into another world.

“Kenny you threw it too far, he’s gone.” Yachiru comments.

“Damn.” He looks unaffected and you just sigh.

“I don’t think our services are needed.” Jushiro sheaths his blade and you do the same.

“We should do a sweep of the squads around to ensure no others have breached.”

You nod.

Jushiro goes left and you go right.

With your eyes fixed ahead, you’re ready for anything. You’re jumping from building to building, but you don’t see a thing. You’re a bit relieved that there isn’t any damage. At least none that the hollows made. Kenpachi is definitely going to leave a mess wherever he goes.

By the time you make it to the sixth squad you realize that the area is clear. You intend to keep going straight up to the first, but the pink petal drifts into your line of vision and you turn your head. Your eyes widen when you spot him. He’s standing next to a tree and the entire atmosphere feels as though it has changed. Your arms drop slowly and your feet touch the ground quietly.

All he’s doing is standing there. You’re possibly fifty feet away at best, but you can’t stop staring.

He just looks so..

“Beautiful..”

Apparently you said that aloud. His head turns and once again you’re completely frozen. That harsh gaze is fixed on you. You should say something, inform him that you’re only doing a patrol. Words refuse to form and when he steps away from the blossom tree, your heart is going much faster than it has ever gone.

Even in battle.

His steps seem to echo, and you want to swallow, but you can’t. None of your usual body functions are working.

He’s right before you and he stops.

“Were you referring to me.”

He’s talking to you, he must be. But you can’t formulate a sentence, much less respond.

“I asked you a question.”

You flinch and bow fully. It’s an instinct.

“G-Gomen!!”

Why are you even apologizing, it’s not like you’ve done anything wrong. You just feel like you have.

“I-I was just doing a sweep for hollow activity. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You’re almost afraid to lift your head.

“You said that I was beautiful.”

The statement made your eyes widen. You feel absolutely embarrassed.

“Gomen!!”

That’s all you can get yourself to say at this point.

“Are you so superior that you refuse to meet my gaze.”

Just the insinuation makes you panic.

You jolt upright.

“O-Of course not Kuchiki-taicho I-”

Your words come to a stop, because you expect his eyes to hold irritation, or at the very least anger for saying what you did. Yet, his expression looks almost…soft..

How could such a stoic person look so effortlessly attractive?

“I was right, you are beautiful..”

The slight change in his eyes alerts you that you’ve once again opened your big mouth and blurted out something that should never leave your lips. Your face heats up immediately as you begin to stutter.

This is mortifying.

“G-G-Gomen!!”

He says nothing. He just watches you as if trying to make an assessment. Without so much as another word, he turns.

“Let’s go.”

“G-Go? G-Go where?”

He just glances back at you, and a pleasant shiver rushes up your spine.

“Y-Yes Kuchiki-taicho!”

You prepare to follow and he takes off. You’re so consumed in your rushing thoughts that you don’t take notice of the small smile that briefly crosses his lips. 

[eksvaized]

[ 𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖔𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 ] — 12

>> Ghost x Reader, alternative ending

>> 18+

>> this was inspired by the tv show 'you'

THREE HOURS EARLIER

The instant Simon saw you, he knew something was awry. He observed you fumbling with your phone, the uneasy shift in your body as he approached you. Your excuse almost worked; he almost believed that the abrupt change in your behaviour was due to a long day at work. After all, he didn’t have time to take care of your boss because before leaving he was preoccupied with making sure that your friends, mainly Mindy, got the message to stay away from you.

He was headed to the bathroom when his gaze wandered to the office door and he noticed that it was... open. He quietly walked in and immediately he knew.

His was pulled to the note on the table, which you had forgotten to throw away as you ran back to the kitchen. He picked it up before walking over to the shelf. He didn’t need to look inside the box to know that you had peered inside.

For a brief while, his mind was overwhelmed with thoughts. His emotions swung like a pendulum between anger and distress, blending together in a confusing mix.

When he heard you yelling, telling him you were going to the shop, he knew that he couldn’t let you leave this house.

PRESENT

Simon stood in the dark corner of the basement, watching you. You were curled into a ball on the floor, confined in a cell, your face obscured. He could hear your muted whimpers and sobs, and he knew you were crying. He wanted to step inside, to embrace you and help you calm down, but every time he got close to the bars, you would leap up and beg him to stay away from you.

You were fuming when you initially regained consciousness. You were enraged and kept shaking the bars, demanding that he let you free and explain what he had done. Even though you knew the truth deep inside, you needed to hear him say it out loud, to hear him confess, because there was still a part of you that wanted to believe this was just a nightmare from which you would awaken soon.

Simon left you alone in the shed. The cell was frigid, dark, and confined, making you feel as if you were suffocating from a lack of oxygen.

He returned after what appeared to be an eternity.

He didn’t open the cell door, but as he got near, he kneeled and placed a blanket, a pillow, a water bottle, and a book on the floor.

“I have to leave again... I promise I will come back, I won’t abandon you here.” He tried to speak softly, not to startle you, but as his voice reached your ears, your body wanted to coil even tighter into a ball and you refused to raise your head. “I need to do something, but… but when you see me again, I’ll explain everything to you, I will answer all your questions. You’ll realise that everything that happened.. and all I did was for you.”

TWO DAYS LATER

Simon took longer than he had promised to return. And by the time he showed up you were convinced you were going insane.

You attempted to distract yourself by tearing out the pages of the book and folding little flowers out of them because you had nothing better to do.

Then when your fingertips started to ache, and your eyelids started getting heavier, you tried to sleep, too.

But every time you closed your eyes, you couldn’t sleep because all you could think about was that fucking box and how Simon was responsible for ruining your life. You condemned yourself for your ignorance. How could you ever trust him? How could you allow him to touch you with the same hands that killed Matt?

“Do you want me to just explain it all or should I answer your questions first?” He asked, but you remained silent.

You didn’t want to talk because you knew you’d say something you’d later regret, something that would enrage him, and the last thing you wanted to do was aggravate him. Your only hope of getting out of here was to persuade him that nothing had changed after what you found in his office - you were still in love with him.

“Yes, I killed Matt, but only because I had no other option. If you had heard how he talked about you... He saw you as a dumb girl, whom he could manipulate and who, he knew, never rejected him because she was starving for attention. And I knew it wasn’t true; you are more than that, and if he couldn’t see it, he had to be erased from the picture.”

It pained you to hear that, but it didn't justify Simon ending someone's life.

“Your friends… I didn’t do anything to them. I just dug up some old pictures that Mandy tried to hide and used them to make her stay away from you... so that’s why your friends began avoiding you.. I know you believe I had no right to do that, but Y/N, they held you down, and you were only there for their amusement.”

Also, he told you about how he broke into your house, which made you want to throw up, thinking about how many times he might have been there, watching you, going through your stuff while you were completely unaware of his presence inside your home.

Simon described how he fell in love with you the moment he saw you. He knew you were special, and he knew he had to have you no matter how long it took or what he had to do.

A WEEK LATER

You were still in a cell, but after the initial shock, you could gather your thoughts and create an escape plan.

You started talking more; you stopped ignoring Simon, and you could see that he was still distrustful, but the relief and joy in his eyes whenever you opened your mouth, even if it was to ask for water or tell him you were hungry, was palpable.

You stopped begging him to let you out. You knew it was pointless because you needed to earn his trust first, to convince him that you wouldn’t tell anybody about what had occurred and that you still loved him.

“I know you don’t want to let me go home yet.” You said while folding a flower. At this point, you were running out of pages, but this helped you to stay calm and keep your voice from trembling. “But maybe.. we could.. you could take me outside? I’m not going to flee, I’m not going to leave your side, I’m not even going to move, but I just need to get some fresh air because I feel like I’m suffocating in here.”

That night he denied your request, but the next morning you awoke to find him unlocking the cell. He tied your hands, telling you how he doesn’t want to do this, but he has to, just in case.

“This place is in the middle of nowhere.” He said as you climbed out of the basement. It felt like he was giving you a warning, telling you not to act stupid because he could sense that your thoughts were racing at a thousand miles per hour as your eyes darted around.

“I’m not going to run.” You promised and even forced yourself to step closer and kiss him on the cheek.

You were outside for an hour.

He made you sit down on the ground, cross your legs and put your tied-up hands in your lap, while he towered over you, not letting his eyes wander. You could see nothing except a curtain of thick trees and a dusty road that seemed to lead nowhere as you looked around.

Running would be foolish, but you thought it was your only option. You refused to die in that cell, and you refused to return and allow him to lock you up again.

So, when Simon turned his head for a split second, you stumbled to your feet. Your hands were tied in front of you, and you didn’t have time to loosen the ropes, so you just ran.

With every ounce of speed you could muster, the chilling wind sent shivers down your spine as you raced ahead, your senses heightened and your body in constant motion. You could hear him shouting at you to stop but even though your legs hurt and your entire body ached, you refused to let him catch you.

But Simon was faster. He was tenacious, and after what felt like an eternity, two arms wrapped around you and a body collided with you. You struggled, kicking your feet, attempting to bite him and scream, but a hand clasped over your mouth.

He dragged you back. You could see the wrath in his eyes and feel his taut body against yours as you looked over your shoulder.

You kept attempting to get free, but it wasn’t because you were trying to flee anymore; it was because you were running out of air.

His one arm was tightly wrapped around your neck, pinching your throat. You tried screaming and yelling for him to release you since you couldn’t breathe, but he couldn’t comprehend what you were saying because his palm was still clamped to your lips.

Simon couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, and the sole thought going through his head was how dumb he was for trusting you.

You weren’t prepared to confront the facts just yet. You couldn’t tell he wanted to make your life simpler. But he still loved you, and he was ready to keep you imprisoned in the basement for as long as it took you to realise that everything he did was for you.

You stopped resisting, but he didn’t loosen his grip until you were back in the cell.

He forced you to sit on the floor, but as his arms unwound, your body collapsed. He knelt to look at you, his eyes widening as he observed your pale face.

You weren’t breathing.

He checked your pulse before his fingers curled around your shoulders, and he began shaking you violently.

“Wake up, wake up..!” Words spilt out of him like a desperate prayer. “Stop playing! Stop pretending, Y/N!” His rage had given way to remorse. He refused to acknowledge that you weren’t moving.

Simon didn’t dare to admit that he killed you.

He eventually took a step back, allowing your body to tumble to the ground once more. He stood up and saw your head fall into a mound of neatly folded paper flowers.

He was at a loss for what to do. A sense of emptiness washed over his body, leaving him feeling numb, while his mind remained devoid of any coherent thoughts.

But the quiet voice in his head, the blackness that encompassed his body, wrapping around him like a warm blanket, kept whispering into his ear that this was always going to end this way.

You were never meant to be his.

In accepting Simon into your life, you unknowingly sealed your fate as another victim of his, unable to withstand the darkness that lurked within him.

[your-favourite-plague]

✵ The Mother ✵

✵ The Thoughts ✵

[Kalluto & Kikyo, before the mission in Yorknew]

Word count: 1,060

✵✵✵

The scissors blade sliced through the paper with a quiet snip. Another set of little pieces fell on the desk, each perfectly even. The small, agile hands gathered them and carefully hid in the slits of the long sleeves.

Kalluto looked in the mirror, ensuring his hairstyle kept the intact shape and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles on his obi decorated with a geometrical pattern, matching the one on the bottom of his furisode. All preparations were done, and he was ready to go on a mission; technically not his own, as he only assisted his older brother, yet he wanted to polish everything all the same. In a long time he didn't leave his home and he couldn't hide from himself the anticipation of seeing the outside world again.

Obviously, he loved his home and his family. There was no doubt about it, and no reason for him to want to leave. But lately, sometimes, just sometimes, he found it difficult to breathe.

Everything changed when Killua ran away. His abrupt and impudent breaking the rules left everyone distressed. Outwardly, the Zoldycks still worked flawlessly like the harmonized organism, yet the home atmosphere drowned in tension. The wound seemed to heal for the moment, but then these people came and aggravated it once again. They called themselves 'Killua's friends', invaded their property and took him away, ruining the family peace. The butlers crept in foreboding, Illumi began to disappear even without missions, Mother cried more often. And the Thoughts — the ones Kalluto so desperately tried to quell or at least seal somewhere deep inside him; the ones that made him glad all Illumi's attention was always dedicated to the heir, so these awful taints on his mind could slip unnoticed — now they got excruciatingly harder to bear. In this situation, he should especially increase his efforts to be a good child to ease Mother's pain at least a little, but everything he did seemed to make the matter worse.

If only Killua was here.

He couldn't tell what he sensed first — the stately aura, the flowery scent of perfumes or a click of the heel. He quickly neatened already perfectly adjusted clothes and bowed to greet his Mother, coming into his room.

Maybe at heart he actually wanted to leave home, even briefly, but he definitely didn't want to leave Her. Recent disarray visibly worsened Her state and agitated Her already fragile emotions. He feared She could have a breakdown at any time, and he desperately didn't want it to happen. Even though going on missions was his official responsibility, the one much more important for him was to ensure Mother's peace of mind. He always tried to be near Her, as Her companion, support, confidant. Making sure no one, and especially himself, would do anything what could upset Her, and if She was screaming or crying even then, do everything to distract Her, talk about art, about nature, about assassinations.

He was also painfully aware he was being irrational. The outbursts, no matter how terrifying, always passed without the repercussions, and She regained serenity as if they were just Kalluto's delusion. Moreover, She was surrounded by skilled butlers who knew how to comfort Her. There was nothing in which he would be irreplaceable.

"Oh, I see you are ready. Very well." The praise felt warm in his chest. "You really remind me of Illumi, dear, you've matured so fast! When you come back, I will have to implement more trainings he underwent into your routine, and soon enough, you will be just like him!" While She chattered, this warmth was slowly succumbing to the cold stinging.

"Yes, Mother," he said habitually, not sure if She even needed the affirmation.

"However, I have to say, it was not necessary to take you as his assistant. This is not what is best for your current situation. If only he consulted me, I would have opted for something more quiet and clean for you." The red iris on Her visor shrunk minimally, Her voice momentarily shrill. "And quick." He understood the reprimand.

"Yes, Mother."

"I should be the one to always choose your missions, I know what you need." His heart tightened when Her tone hit the mournful string. "It is regrettable that your father pretends not to understand this. But we will work hard nonetheless and correct these little defects, right? Don't worry, dear, mama will take care of everything."

Yes, Mother, he wanted to say, but something heavy choked his throat.

"I don't want—" the Thoughts blurted weakly, taking control over him. His eyes widened, when sudden silence made him realize what he had done. He was insubordinate and he just saddened Her again. Maybe he should leave home after all.

Silk taffeta rustled when She came closer and fondly caressed his cheek, the pressure of Her fingers painful against his skin.

"Kalluto, is everything okay?" Her voice needled him with guilt.

"Yes, Mother," he said with difficulty, through the mouth stitched by Her presence. "I'm sorry."

He shouldn't forget.

He might still not be the completely finished product, but the course was set. His path was decided in advance, the role that was assigned to him from birth and the sole reason he was created — to serve the head of the family, first his father, then Killua, then Killua's child if he would live long enough to see them. The desire to change was not only unnecessary, but could be harmful.

Unconsciously, his fists clenched.

"I have no doubt that you will do well, dear, just remember to look after each other." She returned to Her previous tone as if nothing had happened, and began adjusting the collar of his kimono and evening his musubi. "You will be a good helper for your big brother whenever he needs you, won't you?"

"Yes, Mother." He couldn't look Her in the face.

With the last stroke on the cheek, She left him, standing in the middle of his room. And he stood, maybe for hours or seconds, his head uncomfortably heavy, yet deprived of any thought. His mind disobeyed again. He just had to concentrate on steady breathing, inhale through nose, hold, exhale through mouth, hold, and on executing the mission. Still with splinters of hollowness in his head, he glanced at the mirror and, straightening up, went out into the corridor.

✵✵✵

It's a part of my longer fic, but I kinda like this excerpt on its own too.

[csa-survivor-confessions]

Five Trauma Responses

Trauma responses are neurophysiological; they are not bad or good. They happen without us choosing what to do. These responses help us survive. Healthy activation of these stress response systems is predictable, moderate and controllable. (Gobbel, 2023). When it’s not it dysregulates us and can cause trauma.

Break Down of Responses:

Flight:

Flight is our bodies attempting to escape a threat.  It can often be the first option our bodies try. The flight response is from the parasympathetic hyperaroused system. This makes the heart rate rise, blood pressure rise, blood surge to limbs, ears and eyes orient for threat, sweat, pain is dampened, pupils dilate, faster respiration and muscle tension.

Flight is physically draining due to the body working overtime to try and escape. Memory gaps have been mentioned during the running, sometimes we might describe not knowing how we got away.

There is nothing cowardly about running away. If it keeps us alive, then it is as strong as anything else.

Chronic states of flight can look like black-and-white thinking, avoidance, distraction, dropping communication, obsessive thoughts, and anxiety. Distractions can be overworking, over-exercising, obsessive use of social media, or other activities that require mental or physical activity driven by the need to flee

Fight

Fight becomes activated when we attempt to protect ourselves by pushing the other person away or frightening them. Often includes physical and verbal aggression. This doesn’t always get activated by direct physical threats but can come from emotional distress. If we were unable to fight back this can become triggered easily later on. The trauma was never metabolised and this leaves us in a chronic state of distress.

This is an active response; it is a hyperaoursed sympathetic response and has many of the same physiological responses as flight. Except the energy is motivated towards fighting and subduing a threat instead. Acute activation includes: insulting, yelling, spitting, kicking, pushing, punching and more. 

It tends to be most common, and effective, during one-off events. It tends to be less common in those of us who are child victims of assault, especially repeated as we can’t often fight our way out.   

A chronic state of fight can show up in us having a short fuse, controlling other people, passive-aggression, and perfectionism. This can transfer into us acting in ways that hurt other people. 

Freeze:

The freeze response is the body staying alert to the environment while the body stops moving. It allows us to not lose track of the situation and protects us by not hurting ourselves further. Fighting and/or fleeing may have been attempted and did not help or further aggravated the person causing the harm. For some of us freezing might be a primary response if we feel helplessness.   

The sympathetic nervous system that drives hyperarousal fight-or-flight response is still in the body, so we are on alert and able to act if we can escape the threat. But at the same time the parasympathetic nervous system is online and freezes the body. (Nunez, 2020) Breathing can become shallow and muscles become more rigid. This immobility is not a choice, it is our body’s way of trying to prepare for the next step and is unable to release the energy until the threat passes. (Smith, 2021)

Freezing is in no way weak. It is a natural response and is never something to be ashamed of doing and does not mean we are responsible for our victimisation. 

Chronic freeze response looks like hiding, lack of energy, difficulty engaging in life, anxiety, spacing out, chronic pain, migraines, and isolation.

Collapse:

The collapse response is the body fully shutting down and not being able to protect itself actively. Collapse is a state of hypo-arousal. When we begin to experience this response, we may not be able to speak, and they feel dissociated. Our heart rate, blood pressure, and body temperature drop. If you are with someone in this state, you may notice they have a “blank stare” aswe become less aware of their internal and external world. There is a decrease in muscle tone, as the body is no longer attempting to fight or flee from the response that can lead to us fainting.

“Perhaps the most severe response in the defence cascade continuum, collapse immobility could emerge in the ongoing life and development of the trauma survivor in response to the re-exposure to the traumatic experience or exposure to experiences reminiscent of past trauma. Individuals can experience partial or full loss of consciousness, trembling, weakness, and may or may not retain memory for the fainting episodes.” (Staff, 2023)

Both freeze and collapse states staying activated can influence the development of severe C-PTSD due to it’s link to traumatization.

Fawn:

When we are in the fawn response we look for ways to please and appease people viewed as a threat. The ability to fully connect with other people is shutdown.

When we are in the fawn space we act like we are connecting and being social but we are not fully present. We are attempting to control others, without being fully conscious of it. We are trying to “people please” our way through stressful situations.

Fawn often develops when we feel we are losing control and autonomy but still believe we can get through the situation. It’s a chameleon way of living It’s done when it feels unsafe to be ourselves. Fawn can feel like we are drained or empty. Dissociation can leave us with fuzzy thoughts or feel like we are not fully embodying ourselves.

Generally, this response becomes ingrained via unstable caregivers. These unstable caregivers can cause attachment trauma. This attachment trauma can promote the development of a fawn response.

Chronic fawn responses can look like; struggling to stand up for yourself, giving in to others, easily influenced, loss of self, people pleasing, perfectionism, & over apologising.

Citations:

Cordell, L. (2021a, December 7). Trauma Responses: Fight (No. S2E9) [Podcast]. Becoming Trauma-Informed. https://becomingtraumainformed.buzzsprout.com/1522051/9641910-s2e9-trauma-responses-fight

Cordell, L. (2021b, December 21). Trauma Responses: Fawn (No. S2E11) [Podcast]. Becoming Trauma-Informed. https://becomingtraumainformed.buzzsprout.com/1522051/9721156-s2e11-trauma-responses-fawn

Cordell, L. (2022a, January 11). Trauma Responses: Flight (No. S2E13) [Podcast]. Becoming Trauma-Informed. https://becomingtraumainformed.buzzsprout.com/1522051/9837755-s2e13-trauma-responses-flight

Cordell, L. (2022b, January 25). Trauma Responses: Freeze (No. S2E15) [Podcast]. Becoming Trauma-Informed. https://becomingtraumainformed.buzzsprout.com/1522051/9922078-s2e15-trauma-responses-freeze

Gobbel, R. (2023). Raising Kids with Big, Baffling Behaviors. Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

Nunez, K. (2020, February 21). Fight, Flight, or Freeze: How We Respond to Threats. Healthline. https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/fight-flight-freeze

Smith, V. (2021, January 21). Understanding our Freeze & Collapse Trauma Responses. Victoria Smith. https://www.vsmiththerapy.com/new-blog/2021/1/29/what-is-our-fightflight-system-really

Staff. (2023). Collapse Immobility. Complex Trauma Resources. https://www.complextrauma.org/glossary/collapse-immobility/

Walker, P. (2013). Complex PTSD : from surviving to thriving : a guide and map for recovering from childhood trauma. Azure Coyote.

Windegger, T. (2022). Knowing the difference: freeze or shutdown with CPTSD [Video]. In YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fu81mHFqXyc

[takasgf]

short 800 word comfort fic for morket (yes that is the title)

morgen is feeling sad and her best friend that is definitely not in love with her comes to cheer her up. there is no plot in this, i just wanted to give writing a try again. be ready for a lot of try-hard descriptions and silly dialogue

Messy piano notes scattered themselves across the spaceship's walls. A tentative of a song. The first few notes were being repeated over and over, by increasingly frustrated fingertips. A loud, unmusical bang, implying that someone had given up and tried to play the damn thing with their entire face ended the performance. The raccoon lifted his eyes from the upcoming invention laying before him and looked in the direction of a certain room. The room from which the music had just stopped playing. He shook his head and stood up from the floor, then he walked towards the room to check on the distressed piano player.

-Ya' alright? he opened the door slightly and only leaned his head inside the room.

The sight of the Zteamer girl laying on the floor face first, next to her keyboard prompted him to actually enter. He sat next to her and comfortingly put his paw on her hair.

-Morgs, are you alive? What's the matter?

As she mumbled indiscernable words and sighed, the raccoon gave the room an in-depth look. His worry was aggravated by the whole mess that it had become. Morgen hadn't left her room for days and her clothes could be found laying anywhere except her closet. A half finished painting of a swallowtail butterly was tucked under her bed, next to a dirty cup that he assumed had paint water in it. He learned his lesson long ago to not drink anything out of cups left in Morgen's room.

-Nooooo… Leave me…Leave me rooot… she complained as she got up with R.ocket's help. She looked at him with shiny eyes and frowned. You should be thankful for all the Morgen-free time. When I'm not bothering you.

-Come on, Spots, this place looks like crap. You look like crap! Make an effort for me, will ya'? Get up.

Morgen seemed to protest but her words were muffled by the floor she was laying on. Before she could react, she felt a pair of tiny arms trying to lift her up.

-It's just…those thoughts again. I've never had this many thoughts when I was on Zteamer. Is there any way to make it stop?

-I'd rather have you bother me than be this miserable. And your playing sucks too, when you're sad. It's driving me crazy. Will you tell me what's on your mind? Please?

Morgen sat on the side of her bed, her head on her knees. Her gaze indicated that she'd want R.ocket to sit beside her and he complied.

-Don't know how to tell you this, Spots; once you start thinkin', you never stop. Kind of like becoming conscious of your surroundings as a kid. I guess for you it came later.

-Sorry, not an option. Unless you scoop your brain out, I suppose.

-The conscience? How do I get rid of it?

R.ocket didn't know if it was appropriate to laugh at her question. It was ridiculous, really, but she was so serious about it.

-My equivalent…

-Yeah, yeah, your equivalent of a brain. Are you plannin' to clean up this equivalent of a mess though? It's starting to look like Q.uill's in here.

-You little brat! she pretended to be upset and bumped his shoulder gently with her fist. I will clean it up. I'm just…too upset right now.

-Will it help if I keep you some company? I haven't seen your dumb little face in days. I really should fix those - he said, pointing to the cracks under her eyes.

-I wouldn't want to distract you from your work.

-Hilarious, I know.

-Too late for that. Come here.

He opened his arms and smiled. Morgen's eyes lit up and she wrapped her own arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. He awkwardly pat her on the back and ran his paw through her hair, trying to brush it to neatness. She almost never let her hair become that tangled. Seeing that he did not make any progress, he stretched his arm towards a lonely hairbrush and grabbed it. He untied her messy ponytail and patiently brushed Morgen's dark brown curls. She couldnt help but giggle at his affection and care.

-There. Still, you should wash it. Really wouldn't want you to ruin it. It's, uhm, nice.

-I'm not laughing at you, Rocky. I'm…happy. You are a sweetheart.

He ignored her remark and kept brushing her hair. He was no hairstylist, but he was aware of the importance of Morgen's hair to her. His care was obvious. He tied the end of her strands into two uneven braids, with ribbons laying on the nearby nightstand. R.ocket took a step back to look at the final result and noded his head.

-It's whatever. Careful on the whiskers. They're sensitive to idiots.

-Thank you, my dear. You did such a great job.

Morgen placed her hand on his cheek and nuzzled her face into his snout. He backed off for a second, but then reluctantly let her express her thanks for him.

-They're cute.

-Pick up your mess. Ain't those clothes more expensive than the entire ship?

-I love you, R.ocket.

-Me too.

-That's dodging the question…

R.ocket looked into Morgen's starry eyes then back at the floor. He did not want to admit it, but he missed that sparkle.

[le4therfxce]

Modern AU! Leatherface Headcannons

Probably just gonna do Bubba first 😼 and then Thomas.

- Now that online shopping is a thing, Bubba can order materials for her arts and crafts, (non human) masks and maybe a few wigs, for their mask collection, and some makeup!

- Bubba is a little fashionista, so there’s gonna be online shopping galore! Pretty floral dress? BUYING IT! Cute shoes? BUYING IT! New tuxedo? BUYING IT! He doesn’t bother to check the sizes, they don’t actually know their size, so most likely some of it doesn’t even fit. Eventually Drayton would have to chastise Bubba for wasting so much money on clothes. Money doesn’t grow on trees Bubba!!!

-Bubba can’t really step out into civilisation, it would be too overwhelming for them, plus Drayton wouldn’t trust ANYONE, with his truck. So Bubba is usually just inside the house or walking around near his house. So online shops and videos really help her feel like she’s not alone.

-Bubba feels more in tune with her feminine self then her masculine self, hence the pretty lady and granny masks. She prefers she/her pronouns but doesn’t mind he/they. Not like they other sawyers really care all that much, unfortunately for Bubba.

-Don’t let Bubba on the internet for too long! Bubba can be easily influenced, and they once stumbled across some crazy, conspiracy videos, and Drayton (very aggravated) had to tell the frightened boy that aliens don’t exist and aren’t trying to turn their brain into mush. So Bubba has a two hour time limit on her iPad!!!

-Stimboards, and ASMR videos and sensory bins! The sounds of crunching, squishing, popping and the feeling of grainy, squishy, hard and soft things, put Bubba at ease. It’s one thing Bubba can distract themselves with, instead of hearing yelling and being overwhelmed by everyone. Bubba made herself a bin with her arts and crafts, when she had found videos about them on her feed.

-Bubba is still the clueless soul she is, but because of the internet, it’s kind of made her a little bit more aware. And instead of only knowing about killing, providing for the family, makeup, bones etc, her mind, knowledge and opinions have expanded.

-The family aren’t made of money, which is why they turned to cannibalism, as a way to put food on the table. So the only expensive gift Bubba received, was an old, second-hand iPad, that Drayton may or may not have took from one of the victims.

-Digital art? WOW! Bubba loves drawing on her iPad, she’s horrible at it, but that won’t deter her from drawing a butterfly, or a flower, or a detailed drawing of the corpse of one of his victims. 😸 last part was a joke, but because Bubba is literally a child trapped in a ruthless killers body, it wouldn’t be surprising.

-Her perverted older brothers had sultry porno magazines lurking around, that he’d occasionally take a sneak peak in, and cover his eyes and run away, squealing in excitement and nervousness at the sight of boobies. However, they never knew a website dedicated to boobs and butts existed! Catching Nubbins in the act of watching that content, she got curious and wanted to search it up and see. She later got questioned by Drayton as to why her search history is filled with: ‘bobs’ ‘ass’ ‘secks’ ‘peanits’.

-YouTube shorts watcher.. don’t flame her, it’s just easy watchable content! She loves watching the short cooking videos, it’s the best. But it gives her the munchies…

-As Bubba has more materials, then just skin and bones, the house looks a little more homely. Random colourful fabrics just placed, in every nook, and cranny, giving it a pop of colour. Bubba also learned how to knit, through videos, and now can make knitted jumpers and cushion cases!

-Noise Cancelling headphones! Really helpful when she doesn’t want to deal with her brothers’ bullshit. Also great to block out any unwanted noise that’ll distress and anger Bubba.

-Bubba has a plethora of plushies, some old, some new, some big and some small. All cheep however, money doesn’t grow on trees Bubba!!! They help him feel accompanied during the night, plus they’re just so darn cute! She named the ugly one Drayton, the one with a ripped hole in its head Chop-Top, and the dirty one Nubbins, the brothers don’t know that however. Bubba wouldn’t want to upset anyone so they don’t tell them.

Thanks for reading!

I had fun writing this lol 😸

[kittyoncescribbled]

“I can teach you if you’d like”.

Summary: After teaching you how to kiss, Sanji keeps his distance and that makes you quite upset;

Word count: 1.6K;

Rating/Content Warnings: MDNI, AFAB reader;

Author's note: Can you tell I was scared to write full on smut?

Tagging: @gingernut1314

Kissing Sanji was a mistake.

Ever since that night, you just couldn’t stop thinking about him; sometimes, you would find yourself daydreaming about it, wishing to drag Sanji by the collar to a secluded area and have another lesson with him. It was embarrassing, really; Zeff would scold you on a daily now, as you were frequently seen in the kitchen holding a knife in the air or burning the very expensive cut of meat a client had ordered just because you couldn’t forget the feeling of Sanji’s lips on yours.

One time, Sanji was preparing a dish right next to you and the way his perfume seemed to envelop you got you so distracted you ended up with a cut on your left thumb and an earful from Zeff on not being an airhead. But was it really your fault if the combination of expensive cologne and cigarettes was so enthralling? 

And to add insult to injury, Sanji seemed to be ignoring you — not exactly ignoring you, but more pretending like nothing happened between the both of you. He had even turned down on the flirting and was treating you like one of the guys. You had to admit that it hurt, thinking that Sanji seemed unaffected by the whole thing while you couldn't get it off your mind; you wanted it to mean as much to him as it did to you, but honestly: giving that Sanji had his way with so many women before and this was merely a kiss, you couldn’t expect it to be so important to him as it was to you.

But still, it was enough to keep you awake in your cabin at night, pacing back and forth like an entrapped lioness, fighting the urge to stomp your feet like a little child. You had been all set up to bed: in your most comfy pajamas, hair tied up in a bun and skincare routine done, teeth were brushed and you had a pair of soft socks on, but you were so aggravated by the situation you just couldn’t sleep. Eventually, you had enough and before you could realize what you were doing, you found yourself at Sanji's door, knocking at a very fast pace.

Sanji opened the door already in his pajamas, clearly confused as you passed by him and planted yourself in the middle of the room, tapping your feet furiously and with your arms crossed tightly. The blond looked at you with confusion printed all over his features and opened his arms as if to ask what was going on, letting the door close softly behind him. His cozy night, involving curling up in bed with a book under the dim light he had set up and some scented candles, was clearly canceled. You were distressed, and he would know about it whether he wanted to or not.

“Was I really that bad?” you asked, with a mix of hurt, indignation, and shame tinging your voice. Sanji tilted his head and furrowed his brows, even more confused. “Sorry sweets, but I’m not following. What are you talking about?”.

Almost involuntarily, you were pouting and Sanji could see a shift in your demeanor; not confrontational anymore, you seemed embarrassed and Sanji could see your cheeks getting flushed. “You know… was I that bad? I know you were my first, but I couldn’t have been that bad… right?”.

The vision of you all flustered, mindlessly tugging at the hem of your shirt and chewing on your bottom lip had his heart aching. He never wanted to see you feeling bad, let alone be the cause of it. “I’m very sorry if I made you feel that way, Y/N”, he said, approaching you very carefully. “I just thought that’s what you’d want… you’ve never wanted to get involved with any of us, so I just concluded you wouldn’t want me to be all over you”.

Sanji was now less than a couple inches away from you, his voice barely audible; his fingertips ghosting over the few strands of hair that had escaped from your scrunchie, and his eyes locked into yours, the blue irises slowly disappearing as his pupils grew wider. Your lips parted, feeling your heart beating faster and a rush of adrenaline running through your veins; too shy to look up at Sanji directly, you peeked at him through your eyelashes, taking in the look of hunger in his expression. “Just give me the order, sweetheart, and we can continue with your lesson because trust me… I haven't been able to get it out of my mind”. 

You felt a whole swarm of butterflies in your stomach, your heart felt like it was going to explode. Not able to bring yourself to verbalize exactly what was in your mind, you simply nodded while shyly grabbing at Sanji’s sleeve. Slowly, Sanji’s hands made their way to your waist, pressing his body against yours; he was very aware that you were still finding out your boundaries and he didn’t want to scare you or impose himself. “But we need to have some ground rules… and the first one is that if you’re not comfortable, you need to tell me, ok? If you don’t feel like doing something, or if you want me to stop, I want you to say it to me”. You nodded, eagerly, feeling your heartbeat so fast it seemed like it was going to jump out of your chest.

Sanji cupped your face in his hands, studying your eyes and making sure you were still on board. “Sorry sweetie, just a nod won’t do. Be a good girl and use your words”. You parted your lips, mustering up the courage and pretending to ignore the flush of blood that went straight to your cheeks. “Please, Sanji… I need you to kiss me”.

Even though he wanted to grab your face and finally let out the pent-up desire he had been fostering for so long, Sanji managed to compose himself; slowly, he lowered his face until your lips were touching and a low moan left your parted lips. You had your fingers clutching harder onto his sleeve, trying to pull him as close as you could and Sanji couldn't contain a smirk when realizing your eagerness. After all, you made yourself as unavailable as possible for so long that it felt like a hazy dream to have you there, in his bedroom, timidly exploring his torso over his pajamas and producing little soft moans that were enough to make his nose bleed.

Slowly, Sanji guided you to his bed; you felt the mattress at the back of your knees and timidly crawled making your way to the pillows. You looked up at Sanji chewing on your bottom lip, silently asking for guidance. The cook’s smile softened while he positioned himself on top of you, wavy blond strands of hair tickling your face. “It’s okay, princess. You just relax and I’ll take care of everything” he said in a low voice, peppering light kisses all over your face. Your eyes fluttered shut while a smile tugged at the corner of your lips, overwhelmed by Sandi's presence; the perfume that lingered on his sheets, his lips all over your face and neck, and his strong hands grabbing at your waist, leaving a fiery trail where his fingers dragged into the patches of skin where your shirt had rode up had your brain in a haze, allowing yourself for once to trust someone else and letting them take the reigns.

Working in a male-dominated restaurant made you distrustful and unable to display anything that could be mistaken for weakness, even remotely; you knew that if you gave any of the guys an inch they’d take a mile so you made a conscious decision to make yourself as distant and unavailable as possible. Sometimes the guys would make fun of you for being a Strong Independent Woman as you never let any of them take the lead; letting go so someone else could take control was scary, but at the same time… freeing.

Sanji pressed his body on yours and you could feel his cock against your thigh and you blushed, your fingers interlocked in his hair pulling him incredibly closer. Sanji’s hand made its way under your shirt, finding the doughy flash of your tits and expertly rolling your nipples between his fingers. You gasped, giving him the chance to attack your neck and collarbones with kisses and love bites; you felt like your brain had turned into cotton, an overload of sensations taking over you in a delirious way.

In one swift movement, Sanji managed to remove your shirt, exposing himself to his hungry eyes and wandering hands. Sanji captured your left nipple between his lips, his hot tongue making you whimper; the cook couldn't stop the cocky smile that twisted his lips as he rejoiced in knowing he was the only one who was able to hear those sweet little noises.

Without thinking, Sanji's fingers went to your pant’s waistband and he was startled by your hand grabbing his wrist. When Sanji redirected his gaze to your face, his blood went cold: your eyes were big, not hooded or glassy anymore, and you had an almost scared look on your face.

“Can we… Can we stop for now?”

The blond stopped, immediately looking for your shirt; Sanji helped you get dressed and planted a kiss on your brow. He pulled you under the covers and allowed you time to get comfortable - you were cuddled up against his side, you first balled up with the blanket pulled against your cheek.

There was no need to rush. There would be plenty of time for him to show you new things.

[songs-from-the-basement]

even if you don't plan on getting medicated/seeing a specialist over it, being aware of your own neurodivergence and tentatively self-diagnosing can be a Really Good Thing

yes, there's something to be said about the community that may come with it, but I think the most important thing that comes from self-diagnosis is being able to understand your own reactions better

for example, I am 99% sure I have rejection-sensitive dysphoria and misophonia (frustrated to the point of tears at certain noises). I don't have a professional diagnosis for either of these, but just knowing that I have them helps a lot with my mindset

When I fail at something (even minorly), am told I've upset someone, or get gently criticized, all things that can trigger my RSD, I know the sudden rush of negativity that comes with it is something that will fade by the end of the day (or even in a few hours!)

Instead of dwelling on whatever happened, or trying to punish myself for it like I would do as a teenager, I now know it's just a Brain Chemistry thing and that I need to take a breather and maybe distract myself for a bit. Then I can go back and actually gain something from the event

And for misophonia, I now know to be aware of my aggravation levels when it comes to certain sounds, so that I can put on headphones or just completely remove myself before I end up overly distressed

These are just two, relatively small examples, but especially after seeing "tiktok diagnoses" and an onslaught of supposed faked disorders on the rise, I just wanted to throw in that self-diagnosis isn't always bad

Professional diagnosis can be necessary in some cases, and I'd definitely recommend seeking it out, but in cases where you just can't, it helps a lot to do some of your own research in order to better understand your own brain :)

[stuckinuniformdevelopment]

@albertbutyoucancallmebert

(Previous) When Teddy reached to pat Bert’s back, Sherri Jr perked up. What was the meaning of this? Stopping his pets for her to pat father? It’s happened a few times during his visit…Did father also like being petted? He never told Sherri Jr that… Maybe he only liked being petted by Teddy? So to test her theory like the scientist that she was taught to be, Sherri jumped up into Bert’s lap while he was listening to Teddy to pet him. Since she couldn’t reach around to his back, she placed her front paws on his shoulder. Now, she didn’t have the finest motor skills, so all she could really do was gently scratch at his coat. “Yeah, patience is—” Bert was cut off by his rat’s behavior. “Ah, what’s the matter girl? Need to use the bathroom? Don’t you remember where your litter box is?” He picked Sherri up and placed her on the ground facing the direction of where the litter box was, in the corner of the room next to the rat tree. “Go find it!” He straightened back up in his chair. “Anyways, yeah, you could take a l—” Bert was again distracted from his thought when Sherri jumped back up, this time plopping her grabby tail on top of his head. He sighed. “Chemistry, hm? Well, all this time later I’m still trying to figure out the precise mixture this one,” he paused to grab his rat and hold her up towards Teddy, “...consumed that made her grow so rapidly. Maybe you could help…” Sherri Jr concluded that her father must only like being petted by Teddy, because he didn’t seem very appreciative of her attempts… How odd.

“Ah!” Teddy cried out in alarm as he scrambled to catch the beakers he foolishly rested on Sherri Jr. Fortunately he managed to get them before they hit the ground. 

Unfortunately, that meant squishing his milkshake in the process. The shake itself wasn't a big loss when he wasn't entirely sure if it'd be his or part of a peace offering when he got it. 

Yet between the sudden movement aggravating his ribs, being soaked, and getting his labcoat soiled he was still quite distressed. Teddy stifled a pained hiss as he leapt up, put his food on the nearest counter, and rushed to the sink to clean it off. 

May as well remove his shirt too since he forgot to put the blanket down. Wait… speaking of… he made sure the portion he wrapped around himself was clean before checking the rest and let out a relieved sigh. 

Once Teddy rinsed his (thankfully vanilla) milkshake out of his clothes he stopped to pick up his popcorn before sheepishly returning to Bert, just in time for him to hold Sherri Jr up to him.

“Sorry… Could you please repeat that?”

Then he paused to look back at the trail of white sprinkled on the floor. After a moment he sighed and gave the silly little mischief maker a few pats on the head. “...I'll clean the rest later.”

[littlerabbittarot]

Reading Tarot When You’re Emotionally Vulnerable

When we think to draw cards and explore our thoughts, emotions, and whatever situation we’re facing, it can be easy to not think to pull when we’re having a good time. No, many of us end up turning to our cards when we’re staring straight at a brick wall, or worse yet, trying to frantically catch those bricks as they’re falling apart.

While I can sit here and preach, “You shouldn’t read the cards when you’re distressed!” I know we all break that rule. So I wanted to talk about ways that help me get the answers I need while not getting lost in the sauce of my desperation in trying to understand what the Two of Cups has to do with my financial problems.

When I use tarot, I like to use it as a tool to point me in directions I didn’t consider. We all get caught up in our own thoughts, and using these cards can be a nice way to be like, “But have you considered this?!”

But when we’re emotional — maybe just after a break up, a fight with a family member, an aggravating day at work, etc. — our biases can break through more easily, and disrupt that process. That’s why you typically see readers suggest to not read for yourself when you’re in a stressed state, if you should even get a reading at all. (Sometimes your brain just needs a break to process by itself!)

If we’re going to do a reading regardless, we might as well make it worth our while. Here are some strategies I follow when I’m in an upset state and reading my cards:

1: Take a breather! Give yourself a couple seconds or minutes to calm down. This pause can be important to help our brain rest, even if just a little, and refocus our attention. Spiritual readers may want to light a candle or incense to set the mood. Secular readers can do this too. Maybe mute your phone, close your door, give yourself this time for you.

2: Be forgiving with your expectations. Before you even touch your cards, know that you might not get the answers you want, or any clear answers at all. And that’s okay! Remember that you’re going into this already in an emotionally vulnerable state, so it’s going to be a bit of a struggle to read and hear your thoughts clearly. Being realistic with your expectations now can help ground you, and keep you from getting frazzled later if you can’t understand the cards.

3: Shuffle and choose the cards however you wish. I recommend a smaller number, no more than three, to lighten the load of the reading. Perhaps even start with just one card, and draw clarifiers if you really feel you need to — but do give that one card a chance to shine first! Sometimes it may be all that you need.

4: Don’t look yet! Before you flip the card(s) over, here are some things to consider: remind yourself of the situation, why you’re here, why you’re seeking out advice. Keep your mind open to whatever may come. Don’t start reaching out for what you want to hear or what you think you need. Try to set those thoughts and feelings aside. Those are your biases distracting you. You can address them later, maybe write them down first so you won’t forget, and then turn your attention back to the cards.

Alternatively, see if you can mentally place yourself in another’s shoes. You are not the querent and the reader, but just the reader. You will be giving this advice to someone who, just so happens to, have the same problems you are having.

5: Now look at your card(s). How you choose to read them is up to you. One by one, all at once, forward, backward, out of order, etc. The important part here is to meditate on what you see, and not what you know of the cards. You might want to take another few breaths to help calm your thoughts again.

If you just went through a break up, and see the Four of Wands, your immediate thought might be, “Celebration? What am I celebrating? This is awful, I don’t feel happy about this at all!” But push that aside. That is your bias talking. Give your brain (or spirit, intuition, etc) a chance to meditate on the card to take in advice that might not be strictly what the card’s bare bones stereotypical definition is. 

What is happening on the card? Who is there? What are they doing? Are you one of the characters on the card, or are you observing them? What colors do you see? How does it make you feel? What if you flip it upside-down, how does that change things? Maybe this Four of Wands is saying not to celebrate that it’s over (unless that works for you!), but to celebrate what you had, your growth as a person. Perhaps it’s “home”, and that you should focus your thoughts and energy on stabilizing the ground beneath your feet by seeking out things that bring you homely comforts. Maybe you see figures on the card, joyful as they share their time together, and it reminds you of your friends and loved ones, how supportive they are of you? Perhaps you should reach out to them for guidance or love?

This is just one example, of course, and this can take practice. It’s easy to pull out the Nine of Swords and have just as much of a panic as the figure in the card! But there can be more beneath the surface. Or things could be very simple! While stressing over a bad day at work, the Nine of Swords could simply be bluntly saying, “Listen, if you don’t get your ass in bed and get a good nights sleep this instant — !”

6: Write everything down! Record this reading in some way. In a traditional hand-written notebook. Maybe take a picture and type up some notes in a digital journal, or talk it out in a voice recording app. Find some way to get your thoughts to paper. What card(s) did you pull? What was your first instinct for what they meant for your situation? (Ideally figure this out before looking up what any card means. Give yourself a chance to analyze it before potentially biasing yourself further!) What thoughts did you have after meditating for a while? What advice might you give someone going through this? How can you turn this advice into productive action?

7: And finally, rest! Give yourself a break, especially after difficult or intense readings. Drink some water, have a snack, do what you need to do to relax at let your brain process things as peacefully as possible. Because you recorded your thoughts, you can always come back to them later for whatever reason. And I would also suggest not drawing your cards again, most especially on the same situation, for a little while. Let yourself digest this reading.

Be patient, be loving, and be respecting of yourself.

What methods do you use to help you read tarot when you’re stressed or upset? What do you think could help you read when you’re feeling vulnerable?

— 

Thank you for reading! I hope to continue to blog about tarot, mental health, and similar topics. Feel free to follow, or support me on Ko-Fi.

-LR🐇

[notsuchasecret]

Trick or Treat - HinaDai

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus! Treat

Most of the time, Daichi’s seasonal job was more boring than anything else. He only ever worked here during the autumn, an extra hand as a favor to a friend of his uncle’s. This was the sixth - seventh? Who knew - year in a row of this, and by now the novelty had worn off.

Sure, the kids were often cute. They would run around, exclaiming at pumpkins larger than themselves, chattering about what they had learned during the educational segments, clamoring to go on the hay ride or to the petting zoo. Daichi’s uncle’s friend had been uncertain of this idea at first, but the very Western-style farm activities were a hit with the kids every year.

Still, Daichi wished they would stick him somewhere - anywhere - other than at the weighing station. It was cold here, and dull at best and aggravating at worst. Sure, he was one of the few part-timers strong enough to lift the larger pumpkins onto the scales, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend all day here. It was boring, to say the least, and he was sick of listening to people argue over prices, or try to haggle, or smuggle an extra pumpkin out under their—

Holy shit that’s a lot of pumpkins.

Holy shit that’s a cute guy.

The thoughts chased themselves in circles around Daichi’s otherwise empty head as the most adorable redhead with the biggest smile and the thickest thighs and the tightest jeans Daichi had ever seen angled his wheelbarrow up to the counter. He was laughing at something one of his friends said, shaking his head and swatting at a grabbing hand without so much as faltering in his driving skills. Daichi spared enough brainpower to glance at the other three with him - was that Bokuto? - before short, fiery, and gorgeous made it to the counter with his mountain of gourds.

“Uh.”

“Hi!” chirped the redhead.

“Sawamura!” hooted Bokuto. “I didn’t know you’d be working again this year.”

“I work here every year, Bokuto,” Daichi said, grateful for the distraction. “Do I want to know what you’re doing with all of these?” he asked, even as he moved around the counter to help the redhead start unloading the pumpkins. Holy shit, this guy was strong, too, easily lifting pumpkins that Daichi just knew would be upwards of twenty, twenty-five kilos. The damn things were big enough that he could barely get his arms around them, but he hefted them with ease, still chattering at his blond friend.

“Honestly, you probably don’t wanna know,” Bokuto said, and it took Daichi an embarrassingly long time to remember what had prompted that. He just shook his head and helped the redhead unload the last of the pumpkins, then started on Bokuto’s wheelbarrow.

Daichi sternly kept his eyes away from the redhead and the way he bounced about, laughing and tugging on sleeves and pointing and exclaiming and doing everything he could to grab Daichi’s attention. Instead, he kept half his mind on weighing the pumpkins and calculating prices, and the other half on making fun of Bokuto. When the fourth member of their little party - and Daichi was just beginning to recognize them as some of Bokuto’s teammates - grabbed the blond with a snarl and dragged him off, Daichi doubled down on the calculating. Bokuto and the redhead were surprisingly quiet, talking in sedate tones while Daichi moved the last few pumpkins onto the scale. Bokuto loaded up one of the wheelbarrows and started off, and Daichi just knew he wasn’t as oblivious to Daichi’s sudden distress as he seemed.

“Uh,” Daichi said, looking after him.

“Don’t worry,” the redhead laughed. “I’m the one with the credit card. He’s not stealing them, he’s just being an ass.”

“Right,” Daichi said, rather proud of himself for not stuttering. “Y-your total’s. Um, uh— ¥62,882.” Great job, Sawamura. Smooth.

But the redhead just beamed at him and pulled a heavy black credit card out of his pocket.

“I know,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s not mie. One of the team’s sponsors lent it to me. We’re having a party this weekend, and a bunch of the guys have never carved jack-o-lanterns, so…” He shrugged. Daichi said nothing, just swiped the card and held out the receipt for a signature. “Say… do you have a piece of scratch paper?” the redhead asked.

“Um.” Daichi startled, and dug through the bin of office supplies under the counter. “Yeah. Here?”

The redhead smiled and took the paper from him, trading it for the receipt. He scribbled something down, saying as he did, “Bokuto-san mentioned you a few times, I think. Sawamura… Daichi, right?” He looked up, smiling, and held out the paper. “I’m Shouyou. No pressure or anything.” When Daichi got his brain online enough to accept the paper, Shouyou beamed at him. Then he took hold of the handles of his wheelbarrow and set off after his teammates.

It was a small eternity of watching Shouyou walk away until he was out of sight. A gentle breeze rustled the paper in his hand and he looked down.

A phone number.

Daichi smiled, feeling suddenly warm in the chill October air.