#your bad handwriting or your shitty doodles

[honeypressed]

i’ve seen your aesthetics, your immaculate desks, your neat handwriting and artfully messy aesthetics and they’re so pretty, yes, but let me raise you something else

lined notebooks scrawled with dark inks in barely-legible handwriting, words crossed out with uneven strokes and ink smudges on the edges of each word; the inks are of different colours and sometimes it fades because there’s no more of it; the margins are cramped full of words only you can figure out

a desk full of books and bits of papers sprawled around, an order that only makes sense to you; shitty calligraphy dons the titles of your notes and your handwriting devolves into half-cursive half-written as you work your way down the page; there are half-assed doodles of a flower in the corner when you got distracted and your sentences stray upwards towards the end even though the lines are right there

no ruler-straight lines, no perfectly-imperfect round circles; your everything is terrible, joint-up lines and ovals more than circles; highlighted notes that fade fast because the ink is cheap but it doesn’t matter; bits of papers stick out of your books and you can never be bothered to stick them in and you have no idea what they are but you can hardly care

half-filled notebooks, never finished because you keep hoarding notebooks; attempts to start something like the pretty journals you see on instagram and pinterest but two pages in and it’s not anything like the typical aesthetic anymore

it’s your own aesthetic and being perfect isn’t part of it

it’s messy handwriting on dull paper and too much highlight; scribbled out words and smudges that mark the margins of your books; no neat handwriting but it’s not cursive either, your e’s join to the word before it and your handwriting changes vaguely three times in one page

so yes, your aesthetics, your bullet journal and prettily drawn flowers and meticulous planners are so pretty and i too, want something like that but give me something realistic.

give me human and fallible and imperfection. show me that i’m not alone in my half-assed aesthetics with cheap stationary, shitty calligraphy and handwriting only legible to me. give me your shitty aesthetics and i will think they are not, because they are you and you’re human and we’re not perfect

[metfell]

i think ranboo would draw little pictures when he obviously wasnt taking minutes. i think he sucks so bad at art and his handwriting is borderline illegible but he draws like the one eye everyone drew on the sides of their tests and tubbo goes wow ranboo youre really good and ranboo nearly dies bc the president he has a crush on thinks his shitty little eye doodle is good so he draws a really bad portrait of him and tubbo thinks its so ugly that its funny so he puts it in his drawer by his bed

[triple-7-heaven]

Give It Time

a/n: this came to me after looking through some yearning prompts from @leneemusing ; reader insert and Jinsoul decide to take a break from their relationship, but it turns out to be a bad idea for both of them, with Jinsoul turning up to reader insert's place late at night because she misses him. big angst with a happy ending :-] (not that kind of happy ending!!!) written with male reader in mind but can be read by anyone ^^ pairing: reader x jinsoul; words: 1.5k ; categories: loona, jinsoul, reader insert, angst, hurt comfort(?)

It had been thirteen days since you last talked to or heard from Jinsoul. You had mutually decided, after some rough patches in your relationship, that you'd take two weeks apart, and see if you wanted to keep the partnership going or not. You thought initially it would be easy, since she hardly had enough time for you anymore, anyway. But you were wrong. You lie on the couch scrolling through Twitter, drinking a shitty canned coffee despite the time. It was close to two in the morning. You swore every other tweet was a photo or video of Jinsoul, like your phone was taunting you with her. You set your phone on the table to reflect on the past two weeks without her.

From day one, you hated it. You found yourself staring at her KKT profile for multiple minutes at a time, just staring. Over the next few days you'd type out messages to her and let your thumb hover over the 'send' button before deleting them and trying to focus on something else, anything else. You had to change the route of your walk, as you'd usually stroll past the company and say hello to her every now and then. You had to remove your phone's wallpapers; it hurt to look at her every time you opened it just to not be able to talk to her. You'd been lying on the couch for hours every night bouncing between looking at your phone, staring at the ceiling, and trying not to do something stupid. You couldn't get away from the massive void in your chest from missing her. Not even at the corner store near your apartment.

"Where's the girl?" the shopkeeper absentmindedly asked while she scanned your noodle packets. Jinsoul usually went with you on your late-night shop trips.

"Oh, she's, uh, busy." It was the only answer you could muster. You shook your head thinking of all those moments over the past two weeks that just felt so wrong without Jinsoul. Everything either felt empty, or just plain wrong. How did you not think this through? You did the math in your head one more time just to be sure... Tomorrow would mark two weeks exactly. That was the time constraint you'd agreed on. You thought of what you would do, what you should do. Jinsoul seemed fine without you, or else she would've called, right?

I should just let her go... I'm holding her back. She's fine without me. She's fine.

There was a thought that recurred over those weeks that you felt extremely guilty for having. You hoped for a split second every now and then that she was hurting, too. That she found it hard to take her meals on time. That she lay on the bathroom floor against the freezing cold tile for hours. That she took walks past the places you used to go together and ran home crying. That she skipped nearly every song on her playlist because they all reminded her of you. That she sat on her bed going through the stack of letters you'd written her, analyzing every character of your messy handwriting and the little doodles in the margins. You hoped just a little bit that she, too, was aching, desperately yearning, for you.

You turned and curled your body tightly on the couch. There was no comfort to be found there, alone. But a soft knock on your door startled you out of your position. You grabbed your phone; it was half past two in the morning. Who the hell was it? Figuring it was a neighbor, you slowly unlocked the door and peeked around it as you pulled it open. Your eyes widened when they fell on a dark-haired, particularly disheveled, choked-up girl. Her hair was tied up haphazardly, she wore no makeup and baggy, comfortable clothes. She just said your name shakily, and brought a hand to her mouth when she started to cry.

"Jinsoul..." you said and reached for her, but stopped yourself before you could wrap her in your arms.

"No, wait, you can hug me..." she whispered. "Please hug me." You pulled her close to you immediately and held her tighter than you probably ever had before. Her arms went around your waist and her face pressed straight into your chest where she let loose and cried hard. You stroked her navy blue hair and squeezed her small frame as you stood for several minutes with her sobbing into you. You leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head. She looked up at you with a slight smile while tears still streamed from her eyes. You wiped them away with your thumbs before noticing you were crying, too, as Jinsoul used her sleeve to wipe your own tears.

"You wanna come in?" you asked. She nodded enthusiastically. You picked her up and she wrapped her legs around you; you closed the door and then sat on the couch with her in your lap facing you. She took a minute to shove her face into your neck and run her hands through your hair. She pulled back and looked at you with her small hands curled into fists on your chest.

"I never realized how much I needed you until you were the one person who wasn't there," Jinsoul said. You caressed the soft skin of her face as she spoke.

"I... I know the feeling. I didn't think this would be hard, honestly, but... It might be the hardest thing I've ever done," you responded. "Is it wrong of me, to have hoped you were hurting as badly as I was? I was sort of... Hoping you needed me. Is that selfish?"

"Of course not. We all crave that feeling of being needed. We all just... Want someone to want us, too. I think I'd be okay if you were the only person in the world who wanted me. As long as it was you," she said. She gently ran her hand up and down your arm and placed her hand on top of the one you had on her cheek. She started to cry again, this time silently.

"Are you okay?" you asked. Your tone was so thick with worry, you thought you might start crying again, too.

"Do you want to stay together?" she asked. You found yourself unable to speak, and for a moment or so, the air hung heavy with silence.

"I know I haven't been the best girlfriend to you. I know I don't give you nearly enough of my time. I... I know I need to do better. But god dammit... I love you so much. Please stay with me," Jinsoul said. You brought her face closer to yours and kissed her. You moved your hands to her waist and ran them over her body eagerly, savoring every inch of the body you'd missed so desperately. She deepened the kiss and your hands slid to her back, sliding up and down, nails grazing the fabric of her shirt. Her hands stayed in your hair, where her nails scratched your head gently. You broke the kiss and hugged her waist while kissing her neck. She wrapped her arms around your head.

"I love you too, Jinsoul," you whispered into the crook of her neck. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You've got a million things to do... It's okay if you can't give me so much time."

"No it's not. You're important to me. I can't just expect you to wait for me," she said.

"But I would. I would wait for you. Everything I do is for you. Waiting can just be one of those things," you said. Her heartbeat was comforting as you leaned the side of your head against her chest.

"I promise I'll be here for you more often, okay? I don't care what you say. I need to do better. I'll do better. For you." She kissed the top of your head tenderly. Your arms tightened around her waist. You stood with her still wrapped around you and moved to your bedroom, where you placed her on her feet. You slowly undressed each other until you stood in just your underwear, then you kissed her one more time before crawling into bed. You pulled the blanket up over the both of you, feeling the warmth radiating from her body. She rolled over and pulled your arm around herself like she always used to, and you held her tight. You gave a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

"Do you not have a schedule in the morning?" you asked quietly. She laced her fingers together with yours.

"Not anymore," she said. You sighed and relaxed against Jinsoul's body, reveling in the sensation of her soft skin pressed against your whole body.

"Hey... Of course I want to stay together, Jinsoul. I love you," you said.

"Mm, I love you too," she mumbled. Within minutes she was asleep, and you soon followed.

[shimishimii]

Happy Birthday ; social anxiety but with happy ending

⟿ wc; 1k

⟿ Tsukishima x gn reader ; fluff , supposed to be for his bday, anw it’s better late than never 

Tsukishima knows many hate him.

As if they are being discreet about it. The sharp gazes, hushed whispers, and being left out during group activities. 

He doesn’t care. Well, that’s what he thinks. He’s fond of being alone, away from silly small talks that take up a portion of his precious time. He’s never good at communication to begin with. His attitude is kinda shitty, something he’s much aware of. And to be someone who lacks the ability to socialize and express kindness oftentimes, he’ll surely end up taking lunch by himself.

He’s fine.

Or sometimes not.

Not when he sees a group of friends laughing about little things, silly small talks he hopes he could be part of. Spend the night with friends rambling about an awful movie. Or sleepovers where his insomnia could take advantage of, he even has a dino onesie prepared for such an occasion but no one has gone to invite him.

So he gets home earlier than others yet the light on his room stays past midnight.

“There’s this new ramen shop near your uni,” his brother told one night, “you could bring your friends there after class,” he suggests, handing a flyer to Tsukishima.

Tsukki only nods, reading the content. They are offering a promo if you order a food combo for at least 5 people. Buy 4 bowls get 1 free. The menu’s pretty nice too. He’d like to go though he’s sure he’ll only end up bringing himself and miss the discount. He folds the paper that will only probably be kept in his drawer. 

Making friends in college wasn’t listed atop his goals. Study, get a job, and make a living out of that degree. It’s a simple agenda. Being part of a social network wasn’t in his hierarchy of needs, befriending people is the least idea he’d like to indulge in. 

But walking alone along the chatter-filled hallways feels heavy on his feet somehow.

Tsukishima knows he’s flawed. Who else isn’t? He is snobbish, arrogant, lacks the ability to comprehend well with emotions and more he could enumerate. He is well aware of everything that makes him less.

He isn’t likable. 

And he never tried to make people like him.

Today is his birthday. 

Fortunately, his family loves celebrating parties and Yamaguchi never forgets the occasion. In these moments, Tsukishima feels lucky having them by his side or else he’ll spend the day as ordinary as others.

Looking back, he remembers his seventh birthday. Scrambling dinosaur-themed invitations, shades of forest green envelopes with dino doodles he drew himself, and the hard-worked letter of his own handwriting placed inside. He kept it in his backpack, organized, and counted them thrice to make sure everyone gets an invite. He feels bad if someone gets left out.

Lunch break, Tsukki tried but his voice was too quiet for them to hear. And after class, he almost did but took a step back once he felt shyness creeping in. He wanted to, but his worries got ahead of him. His classmates have already made plans, he doesn’t want to push himself and possibly ruin the belongingness they have.

So he goes home, alone, and all the invites are still in his bag. 

He’s no longer a kid starting today. His calendar is marked, a note pinned on the side motivating him to go finally make friends. Tsukishima takes a deep breath, opening his drawer where the flyer of the new ramen shop was kept. Maybe he’ll ask around if they want to join him or if they want to try out the new restaurant. He tries a few sentences.

‘So there’s this new ramen shop, maybe we could try it out’ too casual. ‘We should go grab a ramen after class’ it sounds demanding.

Tsukishima sighs, he’s never been good at starting conversations.

Classes went smoothly and dismissal came early. He looks around, contemplating if he really should do this. He can spend his birthday alone, it isn’t a big deal. Or maybe he’s gone deeply into solitude and has no hope of interacting again. Guess he’ll just have to go home and hope his brother hasn’t eaten his cake yet which is a questionable hypothesis by now.

“Happy birthday”

Birthday, who’s happy?—the gears of his brain stopped. Maybe someone must have made a mistake talking to him. He turned his head immediately and didn’t expect that someone to be you.

“To me?”

“To you” you nodded, smiling, “happy birthday to you, well if my memory serves me right”

There’s a second of silence before Tsukishima catches up, “thanks,” he replies a little unsure of how dry it is.

But you smile and he wasn’t as nervous as before.

“But how?” he immediately questions, eyebrows furrowed.

“Remember when our prof who loves astrology asked everyone’s birthdates during her class orientation?”

He nods at that, also amazed how you remembered the details even including about him. Tsukishima never pays attention to most things that don’t directly involve him but he noticed you quite a lot of times. You were the first person who asked him to be your partner for a project, offered him candies during lectures and gave him notes that one rare day he got sick and could not attend class.

“Just wanna greet you and uhm,” you turn around noticing many students have left, “I really should not keep you longer, hope you enjoy your day” 

Maybe he wasn’t really a talker, you think. Tsukishima always seem a galaxy away, yet in his mind is a universe simply waiting to be explored. So you took a short bow and headed to leave, a little shy of the awkward talk. Also questioning your decisions today.

And Tsukki mentally slaps himself for failing to converse well enough. Yet he knows it took you a large amount of courage to approach him, and that alone makes his heart warm. Before you could go, Tsukki clears his throat and gathered will to speak out your name. He wasn’t sure if it’s ok or if he did pronounce your name right. 

But you turned and faced him with a smile on your face he wasn’t sure he deserve. 

Tsukki takes out the ramen shop flyer from his pocket which has become a bit crumpled by now. He’s never good at starting conversations, or making friends, or being close to anyone. But he takes a step closer, and you felt pulled as a tide drawn to him and he was no longer as distant as the moon. 

“I was wondering,” he mutters, “what do you think of having ramen after class?”

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony - Chapter 4

New chapter! This chapter is slightly fluffy, still angsty, but much less than previous chapters.

Catch up here: Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1685

Chapter 4 - Forgotten

A little piece of paper with a picture drawn

Floats on down the street 'til the wind is gone

And the memory now is like the picture was then

When the paper's crumpled up it can't be perfect again

It was Monday, and he was healed enough that Maeve let him go to school. After a normal morning routine, Lorcan made sure he wore a hoodie that would do a decent job covering his neck. Hood up, hands in his hoodie pocket, head down, he headed to school.

He missed a lot of schoolwork. It was going to be a late night. Luckily, most of the teachers gave him until the end of the week to turn it in.

When P.E. came around, he went straight to the gym rather than the locker room. He found his teacher and handed him his doctor's note. Mr. Brullo sent Lorcan to the library to study. Lorcan was happy about that. He was able to catch up on some of his homework.

Lorcan's handwriting, luckily, wasn't hindered by his cast. Perrington at least broke his right arm, his non-dominant arm. That he was thankful for, if he could be thankful for anything that happened to him.

He was getting a headache from his pre-calc homework. Lorcan rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.

"Lorcan?"

Lorcan grunted and slowly turned to see Elide, who looked relieved to see him. That was interesting. "Oh, uh, hi."

"Aren't you supposed to be in gym?" Lorcan lifted his casted arm. Elide's eyes widened and her lips parted. "Oh." She swallowed. Fuck, here comes the pity. "How-" she closed her mouth. "How'd that happen? We thought you were sick." Why were they concerned?

He told the same story Maeve told the doctor. Something about getting in a fight and falling down stairs, and "you should see the other guy". She didn't seem to believe him, neither did the doctor.

"Can I sit with you?" Lorcan shrugged. She sat down and then proceeded to talk to him about what he missed in creative writing. He didn't realize her voice was so soothing.

"Has anyone signed your cast yet?" She was eyeing the black cast. "I have a silver Sharpie!" She pulled it out of her bag and held it up with a smile.

Lorcan huffed a small laugh. Not being able to say no to that smile, knowing he was going to get in trouble, well, what could really do to him anyway? So, Lorcan carefully pushed up his hoodie sleeve. She smiled brightly at him. He propped his head up on his hand, eyes closed and listened to her hum as she put ink to the black cast.

++++

It was hard to keep from asking Lorcan questions. Elide saw the handprint bruise on his neck, the exhaustion lining his body, and of course, the full arm cast. She thought about how his injuries were formed. Obviously, someone put their hands on him, but who?

She didn't know who he lived with besides his aunt. It was doubtful that a woman had done this sort of damage, but one never knows for sure.

As she put pen to plaster, she kept looking up at his face between strokes of ink. He had drifted off to sleep. His face was slack, a slight snore every time he breathed out. Lorcan looked so innocent like that and dare she say, gorgeous.

Having finished her artwork, she just watched him until the bell rang. She gently brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, delicately tucking it behind his ear. He didn't stir.

Elide wished there was something she could do to get him away from his more than shitty situation. Calling the police was probably out of the question, but that was really the only thing she could think of.

The bell rang.

---

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he felt his textbook being pulled from under his elbow. "Oh, shit. Sorry," Lorcan furrowed his brow as he started cleaning up his stuff.

"You looked tired, I didn't want to wake you, but it is lunch time." Elide smiled, "and you have to look at your cast!" She seemed so excited about it.

Expecting some nonsense, he was pleasantly surprised to find a nice line drawing from his elbow to his wrist. It was a row of detailed trees with her name under it. Lorcan looked at it with awe. He looked back at Elide, "You did that?" Obviously, she did that. Don't be stupid, Lorcan, he thought to himself.

She giggled. He thought her laugh was adorable. "Obviously." Lorcan's cheeks flushed while he finished packing up before they walked together to lunch in a comfortable silence.

---

He followed Elide through the lunch line, the lunch lady gave him an extra serving. He was probably looking a little gaunt these days having barely eaten for the past week. Lorcan started towards the empty table in the corner.

Apparently, Elide wasn't having any of that as she pulled him to the group table before he could go be alone. Everyone seemed excited to see him. His name was shouted amongst several other greetings. Lorcan felt a tug in his chest as he looked around at the friendly faces. Why were they always trying to be nice to him? And then his eyes fell on the silver haired boy, he instantly forgot what he was thinking. He stared at the green eyed beauty a fraction longer than he should have as he sat down.

Elide introduced everyone. Aelin, Lysandra, Manon, Dorian, Chaol, Fenrys, Connall, Rowan - the silver haired boy - and then Vaughn, who was the last one to join the table.

He was sitting between Elide and Fenrys. Lorcan kept his head down while he ate, feeling very out of place. Everyone was chatting around him, over him, leaning around him. It was a lot. He wished he was alone at the table in the corner.

Rowan spoke up, "Can I sign your cast?" Lorcan jerked his head up. The sleeve of Lorcan's hoodie was still pushed up, he had forgotten to pull it back down which was unusual, but under the current circumstances, it made sense.

Lorcan's heart sped and he suddenly felt warmth spread up his neck. It drove him crazy how much his body reacted of its own accord around Rowan. He wished it would stop.

There was no reason to deny him when the punishment was coming now anyway since Elide's Sharpie touched the cast in the library, so he just shrugged and moved his arm towards the center of the table, towards Rowan.

"Elide, can I borrow your Sharpie?" She handed it over with a nod and went back to animatedly talking to the other girls about something.

Lorcan was careful not to press into the edge of the table, as he adjusted his arm. "I don't think mine will be as pretty as Elide's. Sorry in advance." Lorcan just shrugged a shoulder. He watched Rowan do his little doodle.

Then Rowan grabbed Lorcan's hand to carefully twist his arm to get to a different part of the cast easier causing electricity to shoot through his skin. His breath hitched. The soft fingers lingering on his skin, he never wanted the other boy's hand to move. Lorcan's eyes darted to Rowan's face to see if he noticed anything weird. All he saw was intense concentration, the way his tongue stuck out just a tad and his brows stitched together. Suddenly he was too warm, chest tight, heart pounding. Hellas below.

"There!" Rowan smiled at his silly nonsensical line doodle signed with his name. "All done." That smile did weird things to his stomach and the absence of those warm fingers made all the heat he had just been feeling disappear. A shiver ran down his spine.

Rowan capped the Sharpie and went to hand it back to Elide when Fenrys grabbed it.

"Can I?"

"Yeah." He was screwed anyway.

By the end of lunch, his cast was covered in names and doodles by his... Friends? They couldn't be friends, could they?

As he walked to his next class, he started panicking. His chest tightening for a whole other reason than being in close proximity to a certain boy. A tightness that was only reminiscent of growing anxiety. He shouldn't have let anyone sign it. What was he thinking?

Fuck.

++++

"Lorcan," Rowan breathed as he saw the dark haired boy basically being dragged by Elide to their table. Everyone perked up at that and welcomed him back.

Rowan saw his pained expression. Then, he saw the cast and the light purples, greens, and yellows on his neck that Lorcan was obviously trying to hide with the hood of his hoodie. It looked like a handprint. A fucking handprint. His gut roiled at the thought.

But then Lorcan looked at him, and oh boy, those eyes were going to be the end of him. They were an amazing onyx, almost like pools of night. His cheeks heated and he hoped no one noticed.

He finally got the courage to ask to sign his cast. And when Lorcan leaned over to get his arm closer to Rowan, he noted the stiffness and slight discomfort that flitted over his face. There was so much damage to Lorcan's body that they couldn't see. It made him unbearably sad thinking about it.

For the rest of lunch, while everyone signed Lorcan's cast, Rowan just sat there silently, observing the beautiful dark haired boy. He'd catch his eye every now and then give him a small smile, which was never returned. His eyes just quickly flitted away. Lorcan, he learned was very hard to read.

Rowan wished they could hang out, just the two of them. He wanted to get to know him and help him. And know what those lips felt like, tasted like. How it would feel to thread his fingers through his long dark hair that was usually in a messy bun. Or just to hold his hand. Fuck, he had it bad.

____

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

[bffsoobin]

Iced Chai

↳ you had a small obsession with drinking iced chai lattes between class, and it just so happened that the coffee store on campus had the best ones. when a new barista replaces the one who used to make your drink, you put him to the test. he makes the most wonderful iced chai you’d ever had. he’s also one of the most handsome boys you ever seen on campus.

➤ fluff, college!au, shy barista!hueningkai

Word Count:3,830

A/N: yes, this fic is very much influenced by my massive love for iced chai lattes and the way I consumed them up until March when we had to leave campus. Sadly I didn’t have any cute boys serving me :(. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it! Please keep in mind that I haven’t proofread, so there may be some small mistakes!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

Calculus was a pain in the ass. Obviously, you knew this well before you scheduled for your freshmen year of college, but there was no way to avoid the reality handed to you by your major. So every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning at 8 am you endured the rambling lectures of your less than spry professor who could barely work his desktop computer. You tried your best to pay attention, you really did, but there was only so much you could do when the conversation shifted from tangent lines to the best way to reheat fast food french fries.

As you doodled in the margins of your lined notebook, your mind wandered to the only good thing sitting through this class does for you. Other than the credits. As soon as the clock struck 9am, you had a date with the on campus café. The roughly hour break between the end of calculus and the beginning of chemistry gave you the perfect window to enjoy some alone time. Homey, student run and always playing some version of a coffee shop playlist; the place was your haven on campus. Not only did you love the atmosphere and the fact that it was the best place on campus to study, but they also serve the best iced chai latte you’d ever encountered. The thought of the drink alone made your mouth salivate. From your first hesitant order, you had become hooked. Within your first week on campus, you had easily drank 10 cups of the chilled goodness before your roommate expressed concern for the sheer amount of sugar and dairy you’d been consuming. 

Due to the timing of your tri-weekly trips, you had always been served by the same lovely barista, Rachael. She was stylish, down to earth and always told you a good joke when you showed up looking especially out of it. Most importantly, something about the way she mixed the drink convinced you that she surely was sent from the heavens.

When your graying professor finally let your class go for the day, you walked on clouds to your favorite spot on campus. It had rained during class so the air was chilled and the ground was still damp. The telltale scent of rain invaded your senses and a chill ran through you. Most people would be craving a hot coffee or steaming cup of tea- but all you desired was the smooth flavor of your favorite drink. The walk to your beloved café wasn’t long, but you always found yourself in a bit of a rush to get there as soon as you possibly could. In a moment of carelessness, you stepped right into a rather large puddle and soaked one of your feet right through your shoes and your sock. Disgusting you thought as you finally arrived at the door. The handle was slick with moisture thanks to the weather, but you wiped your hand onto your sweatshirt as you stepped inside and let the familiar scent of coffee grounds occupy your mind. Your shoulders relaxed simply at the relaxed atmosphere.

A few students who also frequented around this time were sitting at their usual tables, and you waved at them politely before taking yourself- and your squelching shoe- over to the small booth you’d come to know and love. You ditched your bookbag on the table with a thud, feeling secure with the knowledge of your agreement with the girl who sat at the table next to you to keep an eye on your things. 

As you headed toward the counter, you belatedly noticed that the line seemed a bit more backed up than usual. It wasn’t too big of a concern, as your college was relatively small and waiting an extra five minutes would by no means ruin your timing. It was just curious. Usually Rachael ran the counter with the ease of an experienced sailor, but that ease seemed to be missing today. Nevertheless, the line inched forward steadily. Engrossed in your phone, you hadn’t noticed the glaring difference in your routine until you got to the cash register. While placing your plastic ID card over the scanner, you chirped “just my usual, Rachael!” 

Despite what your mind told you would happen next- she would laugh, say okay, maybe ask about class while handing over a receipt- you were met with an awkward stutter that your trusty barista certainly didn’t make. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know your usual,” upon finally looking up, your brain processed the sight of a new boy. A new gorgeous boy. Did they only hire beautiful people here? His black hair was falling into his eyes, charmingly shaggy and exposing just enough of his forehead to make you oddly wish you could see more. His cheeks were dusted in a light pink blush that both charmed you and made you feel bad at the same time. He seemed so fresh. Upon further inspection, you caught his handmade name tag written in slightly shaky handwriting that was so cutely boyish. Hueningkai. He had decorated one corner with a smiley face and the other with a drawing of a coffee bean that looked suspiciously like nothing more than a dark brown blob with a small accent line down the middle. 

“I’m sorry, Hueningkai,” you didn’t miss the way his eyes widened slightly at the use of his name, “usually Rachael is here to take my order. But I’ll take a large iced chai latte, please.” He nodded quickly, reverting his eyes to the LED screen which his eyes bounced around for a few seconds before he finally found the correct button. This must have been why the line seemed abnormally long. As the sound of your receipt printing filled the silence, you asked; “first day?” 

A melodious laugh fell from his lips, causing a scrunch of his perfectly pointed nose that you felt honored to have seen as he stepped away from the register to start making your drink. “That obvious, huh?” Another worker came to take his spot and serve the next student but you followed Hueningkai to his new destination. For as shy as he was at the cash register, he moved with much more confidence when it came to actually making drinks. His earlier hesitation was totally gone as he got to work mixing up your drink. In his new position, you could get a better look at his hands, adorned in simple silver jewelry that embarrassingly made your breath catch in your throat. His actions were over almost as quickly as they began, and his earlier hesitation seemed to return as he slid the drink to you over the granite counter top. You grasped at it eagerly in the same moment he reached to balance a straw on top of the lid. 

For a brief moment your fingers lingered and your mind went wild at the absurdity that you honestly felt sparks pass between the two of you. 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” he mumbled, dipping his head down awkwardly as he finally tore his hand away. You smiled back earnestly, hoping to make him understand that you weren’t bothered at all by the contact. 

Back at the safety of your table, you took a second to collect yourself. Surely you were overreacting to the small interaction. After all, you were already having a pretty weird day. Looking down at your clear cup, you remembered the beginning of your dilemma- the absence of amazing barista Rachael. Hueningkai was adorable, but could his skills hold up to the woman who made drinks you literally dreamed about? Tentatively, you took a sip of the drink and immediately cocked your head to the side. On the off chance your taste buds had totally deceived you, you took another long swig from the cup. 

Hueningkai’s drink was even better than Rachael’s.

——

The next morning, you awoke before your alarm even started to beep. Thursdays meant no class until 1 o’clock, so you had almost all the time in the world to catch up on assignments and homework and do your errands. Instead of doing anything constructive, you found yourself craving yet another iced chai latte. As you voiced this desire to your roommate, she looked at you as if you’d just admitted to the murder of 4 people.

“Are you insane? Do you not remember how miserable you felt after drinking two a day? I can’t let you do that again. You can go to the café but at least drink something different!” You knew that she was right, but something inside of you- that shitty little perpetual teenage boy who hides in a corner of your mind- told you to do the exact opposite of what she said.

“I’m sorry,” you shuffled through the shirts hanging in your closet, the sound of the plastic hangers clicking together resonating in the otherwise quiet room. “But you have to go to class so there’s no way you can police me. Plus,” you pulled a shirt out of your closet and slid over to your cheap full length mirror to inspect yourself. “You didn’t see Hueningkai. He is...” your cheeks flushed as your roommate began to let out a high pitched squeal. “Shhh! The walls are thin!”

“Oh don’t act so scandalized. I guess it makes sense that you’d have a crush on the boy who feeds your addiction.” You rolled your eyes at her, lobbing a pair of rolled up socks in her direction in retaliation. They hit her side softly before bouncing to the floor dejectedly. “You,” she pointed a finger your way as you rooted through your drawer for a pair of jeans, “are ridiculous. Have fun with your dreamy boy while I’m at class.”

Despite the familiarity of the path to the café, you still felt a bit out of place making the trip on a Thursday. Even the other students passing you by felt wrong in a way you couldn’t quite place. There was also the lingering worry that Hueningkai wasn’t even working today, and you’d show up to the small building just for a dose of disappointment. In you worried haze, you had barely noticed you arrived until the door was pushed open from the inside and a small pack of students held the door aside for you.

Inside of the building, a blanket of warm air surrounded your form and the faint smell of cinnamon drifted easily through the air. You were instantly calmed by the scent until someone bumped into your shoulder. With wide eyes, you looked around to see about double the amount of people your usual visits yielded. You were in no way prepared for the absolute mass of bodies that filtered between the tables and comfortable sitting areas. 

Feeling a bit lost, you put yourself into the line of waiting students and tried your best to peer over heads and around bodies to see if you could catch a glimpse of the barista that had captivated you so easily. It didn’t look like he was making drinks, but you held out hope that he was manning the register that was blocked from your sight. After what felt like forever, you reached the register and came face to face with...not Hueningkai. Despite your disappointment, there was no way you would turn down a drink, even made by a non-Hueningkai. 

Once you had the chilled cup cradled in your hands, you took a hopeless look around at the full dining room. Almost every table looked to be occupied, and some students had even resorted to leaning against the walls to chat and sip their drinks. The back of your neck began to heat up as you wandered around hoping for anyone to decide they were done and get up to leave. You had almost given up and decided to just go back to your dorm and lick your metaphorical wounds when a voice called your name. It only took a second of looking around to lock eyes with the one who was calling for you. 

Hueningkai. He had a light blush filling his cheeks as he waved a hand noncommittally your way. He looked ethereal sitting at the table, hot cup of something steaming next to his sticker covered laptop. His eyes were wide and adorably eager; akin to the look of a puppy who had just seen their owner after a long day. Your feet were working before your brain, so when you arrived to the table you had to scramble for an opener. 

“Hey! I was looking for you!” you winced. Way to go, Y/N. Out yourself on the second meeting. “I mean, uh,” you felt the cup in your hand start to slip with the sweat your palms produced, “I was hoping you’d make my drink again.” 

A smile spread like wildfire on Hueningkai’s face and his eyes crinkled adorably in the corners.

“You liked it that much?” His voice was meek, oddly shy for the way he beamed up at you with so much ease. 

“Yeah! It was really good. Even better than Rachael’s, to be honest.”

“Really? She was the best barista here!” He brought a hand up to his mouth in shock. 

“Yeah, really! Anyway, I can get going if you...you look busy,” you gestured toward his open laptop and drink that you were sure was rapidly cooling the longer you distracted him. 

“No!” he blurted the word before visibly flinching at his actions. At least it wasn’t just you feeling like a fumbling idiot. “I called you over cause it looked like you needed a seat? And if you want to sit with me, you can. I’m just working on a presentation and you won’t distract me, I promise.” There was no way you could deny the eagerness lacing his voice, so you pulled the chair opposite him across the floor and settled in. 

----

“That sounds like a date. A hangout at the very least,” your roommate asserted as she typed some code into her computer. 

“It was not a date!” You whined, glaring up at your ceiling from your spot on your twin XL. “He just saw me looking for a place to sit and offered.” She scoffed. 

“Yeah, and then he proceeded to ignore his homework to talk to you. And then he asked if you were coming back to the cafe tomorrow. And then he-” 

“Okay, I get it! But what am I supposed to do? Ask him out?” A bubble of nerves was resting heavily in your stomach at the thought. As much as you liked him, who were you to think that he wasn’t just being kind? When you voiced this concern to your roommate, she tossed her computer to the side and strode over to your bed to not-so-gently pull you out of it. Without an idea of what she was doing, you stood dumbly until she put on her slippers and drug you out of your room. 

“What are you doing? I didn’t even put my slippers on!” Your sock covered feet slid across the tile of the hallway as your roommate finally hauled you into the common room of your floor, where a few small groups had gathered to do various activities. 

“Hi everyone! My lovely roommate Y/N and I have a question for you. Do any of you know Hueningkai? He works at the cafe, really tall, music major?” A few people nodded in confusion, surely wondering why the hell one of the polite tenants of room 112 was conducting some kind of survey in the lounge. 

“Great. Has he ever shown interest in any of you? Asked you to sit with him in the cafe? Spent about an hour inquiring about your life instead of quietly working? Gave you his number?” Everyone who had previously nodded stood still, not moving an inch as they whispered between each other. “Okay, that’s all!” Your roommate left with no further elaboration as you called out a weak apology to everyone. Back in the safety of your room, you stared at her, scandalized. 

“What was that?” 

“That, my dear Y/N, was proof. He likes you!”

----

A nervousness you hadn’t felt since move in day was crawling through your body the closer the clock ticked to 9 am. Theoretically, you could just skip going to get a drink today, and therefore avoid the source of your nerves; but you knew that Hueningkai was expecting you to show. He had even sent you an eager text this morning with a series of heart wrenchingly adorable emojis. There was no way you could avoid him after that. 

Late fall weather had surely settled in today and you felt the chill settle into your bones as soon as you stepped out of the math building. For a few seconds, you stopped to watch a rough breeze rustle browning leaves across the concrete paths of campus before simply digging your hands further into your pockets. You had to power your way through this. Worse case scenario, he says no and you can never show your face on campus again. Simple. 

The door felt especially heavy under your hands as you hauled it open. The much more familiar, sparsely populated shop greeted you but only ratcheted up your nerves. With less people milling around, there was no way to delay your conversation with Hueningkai. As soon as you began to approach the counter, you could see him stumble over to the register before the other working student could even attempt to. He tried to casually lean his elbow onto the half wall to his left, but he miscalculated and ended up shyly tucking his hands into the front pocket of his apron. 

“Hi,” you swallowed the lump in your throat and hoped that he hadn’t notice the shake in your voice. The familiar beep of the card reader interrupted your worries momentarily as you heard the boy in front of you exhale a greeting. 

“Your usual?” He inquired as if he hadn’t already seen you with the drink two days in a row. Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded and waited for him to punch the order into the screen. His hand hesitated as he glanced up at you again. “You’re the only person I know still ordering cold drinks in this weather,” a teasing smile had blossomed on his pink lips and your heart jumped at the sight. 

“Well, I guess I’m just a bit stuck in my ways,” you followed him, as always, to the other side of the counter where orders were placed when finished. 

“I like that,” he commented as he grabbed a cup, “it makes my job a whole lot easier,” your eyes locked onto his hands out of instinct. Yesterday you had noticed the addition of a thin silver chain around his wrist, and you would be lying if you hadn’t spent a few minutes admiring the delicate chain contrasted against the strength of his hands. A pour of ice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you caught the back half of a question from him. 

“What’d you say?” You felt as if lava was bubbling right under the surface of your skin as you reeled in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe that you’d let yourself miss a chunk of conversation for something so stupid. 

“Oh,” he seemed equally embarrassed that you hadn’t heard him, and it hurt your heart a little to see the way his eyes shook. “I just wanted to know if you had a good night yesterday. I mean because you-you told me when we hung out that you had a lot of reading to do, and I wasn’t sure if you got it all done. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with readings that I don’t do any of them, and Taehyun yells at me for that but I just can’t seem to stop doing it.” He was rambling, and you both knew it, but you let him continue as he shyly looked away in order to pour your drink over the ice. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I had an okay night. My roommate was a bit much, but I love her, so it was okay.” His eyebrow quirked softly at the mention of your roommate, but he seemed afraid to broach the subject just yet. He gave your drink a good swirl after sealing on the lid and slid it over the smooth counter to your waiting hand. Unlike the first time you had met, you had already grabbed a straw from the small display and plunged it into the drink. 

Although you should have walked away, something kept you rooted to the spot, Hueningkai seemed to be under the same kind of spell as he looked over his shoulder to see that no one else had lined up to be served quite yet. 

“Hey, I was wonderi-”

“This might be weird-”

Your sentences clashed in the air as you spoke at the exact same time. Your mouth hung open like a fish out of water and Hueningkai waved his hands around wildly in your direction. “Go ahead!” He enthused, looking as if he was going to melt into the floor as a side effect of interrupting you. 

“No, I mean, you can say your thing first, if you- if you want,” you offered weakly. 

“No, it’s okay, you definitely spoke first. G-go ahead,” he nodded rapidly in order to convince you further. You raised your eyebrows in a silent question of ‘are you sure?’, to which he nodded again. 

“Okay, I was wondering if you’d like to, uhm, go out sometime? On a date?” The words felt like weights rolling off of your tongue. Hueningkai blinked once, twice, a third time before he broke into a peal of laughter. A sudden wash of panic, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over your head, filled your senses. This was it. You would have to transfer schools and change your hair color to get rid of this incident. Goodbye, life you had come to know and love. 

Hueningkai must have recognized your panic as he took a harsh breath and surged forward to reach for your arm. 

“Wait! I wasn’t laughing at you! It’s just that I was, um, also going to ask you out.” This time, a laugh bubbled up in your throat at the confession. 

“You’re right. That is pretty hilarious.” You admitted, feeling the tension around you totally dissipate. 

“Well, I think this bodes well for us. We’ve only known each other for a few days and we already have telepathy. My roommate will be so jealous. He’s been trying to meld our minds for weeks.” His personality was beginning to peak through when he spoke about his friends, you noticed. It was charming. He was charming. Not to mention, he still made the best damn iced chai latte you’d ever had. 

[damnzawa]

henlo i'm not sure what your rules are for requests so i'm sorry if i'm doing this wrong i just love your writing uwu 👉🏼👈🏼 aizawa with an hero!s/o turned into a neko because they got hit by a quirk after fighting some villain? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

(CAT)ASTROPHE — A. SHOUTA

Note(s): OMG ?? I ?? AM ?? SO ?? FLATTERED ?? THAT ?? YOU ?? LIKE ?? MY ?? SHITTY ?? ASS ?? AND ?? CLICHE ?? WRITING ?? also i live for these types of scenarios SO EFF YES

Warning(s): Poorly written fight scene, Aizawa having a mental breakdown, Cat Fluff

...

Being a pro-hero comes with a lot of pros and cons. For some, the pros may outweigh the cons and vice versa. Some even has a healthy balance of both. While you, you were one of the people who have pros outweigh the cons.

You weren't really the pro-hero to compete for the spotlight but you still had a good number of people who knows of you and what you could do. Though, you aren't as flashy as the others, you had a unique charm to you that draws people's attention towards you.

It was that charm that drew the infamous hobo man of U.A. to you, all in his yellow, shining (not really) sleeping bag glory. Though at first, he was irritated at the fact that you were just a natural at everything and everybody just seemed to love you. But as time went by, he realized that this charm of yours has truly captivated him. You weren't like the other pro-heroes he had met. No. You were unique. One of a kind. Genuinely different from the others.

After months of (silent) pining, he decided to just fuck it and ask you out on a date, in which surprisingly you happily agreed to. As time progressed, and two dates became 3, 4, 5, and counting, he got to know more sides of you. More characteristics to add to your charm. And by the time you reached your 2nd year anniversary, you guys decided to move in together—which was by far the greateat decision you and Aizawa has ever made.

Your charms are a part of your pros. It's what makes you, you. But unfortunately, you had yet to learn that it was one of your cons too.

It was the usual night patrol. Check any suspicious activity, check if anyone's doing crimes, check up on the stray cat on the alley, repeat. Honestly, some times patrols can be quite a bore. But you didn't mind. It was part of the job after all.

Cautiously walking down the street, you suddenly heard a scream from one of the alleys nearby. You quickly sprinted into action, not sparing another second as you rushed into the scene of the crime.

"Please! Don't hurt my child!" The woman screamed as the villain inched closer to them. Silently creeping up on the thug, you noticed that the villain had a weapon—a gun to be exact which was gonna be a pain if they ever shot the woman and/or his child. "Please! It's all I have! I promise!" A robbery? In the night? Typical villain move.

"Step away from them." You commanded the villain as you activated your quirk. A force field acting as a shield appeared out of nowhere, protecting the woman and her child from harm. You could tell that the woman was relieved, however, the child was still crying.

The villain chuckled as he turned around to face you, your hero name rolling off his tongue in a sinister way. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the saviors of society! The heroes! Protecting the world from evil doers such as myself." You could feel a speech coming. You honestly could feel it. "At least that's what you think. You heroes think you're good shit after taking down some bad guys but do you ever wonder about those who also suffer because of you?" He pointed the gun towards you making you squint at him. "I lost my family! Because of you guys! Because of that stupid Endeavor! You don't really care about the people! You just care about the fame! The money! The recognition you'll get after locking us all up in jail!"

"I assure you, heroes are not like that. Sure we have our own ambitions, but we all protect the people. That's our number one priority." Your response made him snarl. "And as much as I would love to stay and chat..." You activates your quirk once again, this time making whips out of light. "...It's time to pay for your crimes." You attacked him with the whip to which he skillfully dodged. He appeared from place to place with a blink of an eye, making it hard for you to apprehend him.

'Shit. A teleportation quirk? That's gonna be a pain in the ass.'

Dodging his punches that came out of nowhere, you kicked him in the gut. After reading watching his moves while dodging, you figured out that he has this pattern. He would first attack you in the back—which caught you by surprise the first time—then he would go for your front then your sides. It was the repeating pattern he used on you, so after getting used to it, you finally had the upper hand.

He was thrown a bit from the force of your kick but quickly recovered from it. He attacked you with another punch on your left which you countered by grabbing on his arm and twisting it until you heard a crack.

'Well now he certainly can't punch with that one.'

"You bitch!" He pulled out his gun and repeatedly fired shots at you. Every shot was a miss and then finally you encaged him in a box of light.

"Sweet dreams." And with that, you knocked him out with your quirk.

After putting on quirk nullyfing cuffs and a rope made out of light around his body, you checked up on the victims. The woman was repeatedly thanking you while the child was still shaken up.

"Hey now kiddo. It's alright. You're safe now." You approached him with a gentle smile on your face. You were about to place comforting hand on his shoulder when he suddenly shot up.

"No! Get away from me and my mom!" A sudden force emitted from his body as he pushed you to the ground.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry about that!" You stood up and brushed yourself off as the woman repeatedly apologized for her son's behavior.

"No ma'am. It's alright. I'm fine, no harm done. See?" You flashed her a smile. "Kiddo, it's alright now. I'm a pro-hero. Police are on the way. Can you stay for a bit and tell them what happened?" The boy reluctantly nodded which made you smile even wider. "That's great then! You were brave out there kiddo."

"I'm sorry for using my quirk on you..." The boy muttered. You ruffled his hair and told him that it was alright. Though, you would surely see a paramedic later.

After the police arrived and collected your statements, you headed home with a headache. Apparently, the woman and her child doesn't know what his quirk actually is. The robbery might have triggered his quirk and you were the first one to be hit with it.

Great.

Just great.

You just hoped Aizawa was home too. You clearly need some of his A+ cuddles to ease the pain.

You arrived at your shared apartment shortly, but before you could even reach your shared bedroom, you blacked out.

...

Aizawa Shouta wasn't having the greatest day of his life. An eventful and rowdy day at U.A, then an eventful and extra rowdy patrol at night all while running with 3 hours of sleep? Yep. Not the greatest day of his life.

The grumpy man groaned as he remembered the stack of papers waiting for him back home. He could already feel the pain he was about to endure for the greater good of the future heroes he was teaching. He frowned as he imagined Kaminari's sloppy handwriting—and a possible doodle of him—in his homework, he could also imagine the cluster of words that didn't make sense brought to him by Mina Ashido.

But he could also imagine you greeting him with a kiss as usual. He could imagine your arms wrapped around him in a loving embrace, washing out the stress he previously had. He could imagine you rolling your eyes at him as he complained about you not getting enough sleep. He could imagine you helping him grade those forsaken essays he made his students do.

Well, maybe this day wasn't so bad for him. After all, he had you to go home to.

After opening the door, he expected you to greet him with open arms and ask him how his day went. He expected you to make fun of his struggles as a teacher and remind him that it was his choice to teach to begin with. But instead he was met with silence and no you.

To: Y/n

From: Shouta

Are you patrolling late tonight?

He waited for a few minutes but he didn't recieve a reply. He sent another message, and another, and another, until he finally decided to wash up and wait up for you just incase anything happens.

Just as he was about to enter your shared bedroom, he noticed your hero costume on the floor, a lump of something breathing underneath it. He lifted your hero costume, revealing a (h/c) cat—who stirred at his actions—sleeping peacefully. His hand instinctively reached down to pet it, feeling the smooth fur on his fingertips. The petting caused the animal to wake up, it's tired eyes looking at him with such warmness it was almost so familiar yet he couldn't remember where it's from.

"Shouta?" Aizawa froze on the spot as he heard your voice leaving the cat's mouth. He blinked owlishly, trying to process what the hell happened. Did the cat just speak? And did the cat sounded just like you?

"Why the hell are you so big? Did something happen?" You—the cute cat infront of him—asked as you unconsciously started to rub your cat chin into his shoulder.

"Y/n, I should be the one asking you that." You perked up at his response, head tilting as you waited for an answer.

"What do you mean?" Oh god you were giving him the cute eyes.

"Y/n, you're a cat."

"I'm a cat." You repeated. "Wait—what?" You blinked as you realized what had happened. Oh. So this was that child's quirk. "Shit."

"Shit indeed." Aizawa picked you up gently and placed you on the bed. "Mind telling me what happened?"

"Ok so..."

...

Aizawa secretly carried a laser on him the next day. You were dismissed of your hero duties for a week (because that's how long the quirk's gonna last) and was stuck in the apartment all day so he figured you could use a little fun right?

Right...

You greeted him as usual, but instead of human you, cat you is rubbing your body around his ankles and making a '8' shape as you circled his feet. It was quite cute to be honest. He had a soft spot for cats and you after all. He tried his best not to melt then and there.

"I've got something for you." Your ears went forward and your tail erected with it's fur flat at the statement. Clearly, you were happy. Aizawa brought out the laser thingy he had and started pointing it towards the wall, to which you suddenly leaped for. You followed the dot everywhere it landed and Aizawa couldn't help but smile at the sight infront of him.

...

"Shouta." You poked his cheek. "Shouta." You poked it once again. Why were you poking him exactly? Well, you were hungry and it was in the middle of the night. You couldn't reach the pantry nor the fridge handle so you reluctantly asked Aizawa for help. Somehow, he wouldn't budge. After poking him a couple more times, he opened an eye that showed that he was clearly annoyed by your behavior.

"What?" Came his gruff reply.

"I'm hungry." Aizawa sighed as he stood up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

"Fine." Sluggishly walking towards the kitchen, he looked at you silently trailing behind him. "You want tuna?"

"Haha, very funny Shou."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes please."

...

You purred as Aizawa rubbed the spot behind your ears. It was becoming a habit for Aizawa to pet and rub you like this and honestly, he was enjoying it—not that he'd ever tell anyone about it.

You insisted to not cancel your annual dinner date at your shared apartment which consisted of eating takeouts and watching whatever was on Netflix. You and Aizawa happily ate your food—you ate tuna... again—and now, the both of you were watching some Studio Ghibli film, well atleast you were supposed to.

You quickly got distracted once Aizawa started petting you, leading to you not focusing on the film at all. Aizawa's eyes was still on the film playing but you were sure he was also distracted. You found it a bit weird that the both of you quickly adjusted to this cat life and that neither of you freaked out at all. Maybe it was the pro-hero sides of you, who knows. But it was nice to see Aizawa helping you in any way that he can.

His petting abruptly stopped as he stiffled out a yawn. You looked at him and saw that he looked completely exhausted. More so than usual.

So, you hopped out of his lap and switched off the TV as you nudged Aizawa's leg with your paws.

"Come on Shou. Let's go to sleep."

Aizawa did not decline your offer and gladly followed you out of the room.

...

By the end of the week while having breakfast a loud 'poof' and smoke suddenly covered the whole room. After the smoke cleared, it revealed you in all of your naked human body glory.

"Welcome back, Y/n."

"Oh shut up, Shou."

ADDITIONAL NOTE(S)

This was fun to write! I hope I did this right though lolol. Also, requests are open!!

[princess-fanart]

For those that can’t read my horrid handwriting:

Victor Errul- old man smh, shitty doodle will give better art later

Bianchi- hc: hair tuff turns into a heart, bastard man, doesn’t deserve a shirt

Man, poor Victor just looks exhausted, but that is VERY on brand for him. I can joke that he wasn’t actually born with grey hair, but it turned grey from stress. I really like how you colored Bianchi’s hair! The placements of the green look REALLY nice! I also love the little vine on the side, it looks cute! In any case, don’t worry your handwriting isn’t that bad. 

[jaideite]

Hey!How about bakugo and denki (maybe overhaul???) With an s/o that draws on themselfs all the time? thanks ❤❤

OVERHAUL I SCREAM YES

look at my non creative ass making this using the same excuse 😐 oh well

My first time writing for overhaul and I went a little overboard 00pS probably didn’t write him right but send me feedback if I did 😔👊

lmao I’m probably not doing any of this right pffft— 💀

anyways this is coming out on Christmas so I wanted to let you all know...MERRY CHRISTMAS and for those who don’t celebrate it HAPPY HOLIDAYS :D I love you all and thank you for helping this account grow!! ☺️🥰

BAKUGOU, KAMINARI AND OVERHAUL WITH A S/O WHO DRAWS ON THEMSELVES ALL THE TIME

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

— “Stop drawing on yourself idiot.”

— “Oh my god let me write that on my arm so I won’t forget.”

— he watches while you out of pettiness pull out your crayola markers and start doing some calligraphy on your arm in big warm letters saying “STOP DRAWING ON YOURSELF”

— you decorate it putting them dots all over it and add your hero symbol and smiled at him with “Thank you for the reminder, this is why I like you.” and keep it going

— he always tries to hide your pens and markers

— he would blow them up but he did that once and the ink spilled all over him

— you laughed at him after beating the mess out of him for touching your markers

— “My jiji bought those for me, baka!”

— “Y/N...get off me...your crushing my balls...and let go of my fucking leg—OW!”

— “You crushed my markers you mother—“

— he buys you new markers after patching himself up

— you inspect them with a glare “they aren’t my jiji’s limited edition watercolor markers but they’ll do.”

— he just twitches an eye but keeps it going

— jokes on you she bought them cause your jiji bought them from staples lmaoo

— “When you get sick no one is taking care of your bitch ass.”

— “Oh please my quirk isn’t going to make me sick.”

— “Your what—“

— You explain to him that when you draw on your skin it actually start to move and this is how you can plan out battle moves and he’s just

— “Hah. Lame ass quirk like it’s owner.”

— you know he got his shit rocked for that lmfaoo his stupid ass💀

— he can’t even get irked at you whenever you draw on yourself cause it’s your quirk damnit

— sometimes he likes to draw on you lol

— “Hypocrite.”

— “Shut, the fuck up.”

— you made sure to get your soft bakugou pictures in without him not

— it’s very therapeutic yknow you just sit in a t-shirt while he doodles on you and watches them come to life

— hes actually pretty good at it

— “Yeah shitty lady I’m good at everything.”

— “Apparently not cause if you were you’d be good at shutting the fuck up.”

— “OOP—“

— one time while you were getting ready to hop in the shower you happened to glance down at your calf and see an ‘I love you’ written inside a heart

— of course you took a picture of it

— of course you sent it to him

— of course he denies writing it but you know better

— “That’s not my fucking handwriting.”

DENKI KAMINARI

— look at bakagou i fell in love again UGH

— you guys are so bad omg

— like it’s terrible

— “Babe lets draw dicks on your arm.”

— “Absolutely.”

— “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

— honestly should have been the first warning

— he doesn’t really care about you doing it cause he sticks things into sockets

— you draw on your arm

— potato potato oh well not much y’all can do

— till one day he just gets curious as to why you draw on your arms so much and your just like

— “Kami do you not pay attention?”

— “Huh?”

— “Babe...it’s a part of my quirk.”

— poor pikachu is just 🥴??¿ but you just stare at him and put your quirk into motion

— you think it’s kind of lame but basically your skin is like paper and whatever you draw on it if you wish becomes reality

— he’s still confused until you just draw a detailed apple on your arm in record time and pick it up

— and he watches as it just peels off and becomes real

— and poor boy is shook

— “Here, eat it.”

— and he bites into it and just screams and drops it

— your just like poor apple

— “THATS REAL!”

— “Yep.”

— “Y/N THATS REAL!”

— “I know.”

— “ITS GOOD!”

— “Should have finished it.”

— “Y/N H-HOW—“

— “Kaminari wait—“

— “Y/N I’M WKDKWK—“

— “How the hell did you say that out loud—oh wait shit Kaminari don’t go stupid—“

— after this poor boy is so amazed at you

— “Draw me!”

— “Kaminari I can’t draw living things.”

— he gets so excited over it

— constantly shows off your drawing skills too

— “Look at what Y/N can draw! Isnt it so cool?”

— “Kaminari I love you but please baby stop showing me off.”

— he likes doodling on you lmaoo

— sometimes he draws the weirdest things while other times it’s cheesy pick up lines that you find yourself reading during a lecture

— he tried to make himself AirPods and they came out looking exactly like the drawing he drew

— he cried in the corner like an idiot while you sighed and Yayorozu patted you on the back and handed you a pair

— damn rich kids wksksk

— it isn’t until days later he comes up to you and asks whatever happened to the dicks he drew on your arm

— you just 🥴, pat his head and send him on his way lmfaooo

OVERHAUL

— ugh his name just gives me the shivers I love it

— also this is my first time writing for beak boy so don’t come after me oOP

— y/n are you out of your goddamn mind

— “Absolutely not.”

— “hUh?”

— the first time he catches you he just takes the markers

— he thinks drawing on your skin is a way of you dirtying it and that’s a big no no

— “You are making your skin dirty, and you know how I feel about dirty things.”

— “That’s not what I get when we’re behind the bedroom doors.” you mumble annoyed

— he just shoots you a look but hides them anyways

— you have to be cleaner than Mr. Clean himself you understand?

— and Mr. Clean is very clean there’s a reason why his head is so shiny and his clothes are so white

— so some time passed and you just continue on

— till you’re playing with Eri one day and she has markers and your just like 😶 cause those are your markers

— meaning one of his henchmen gave it to her due to her either being good or not being able to calm her down

— but either way it doesn’t matter because she’s happy and when she sees you her eyes red eyes just shine like rubies

— “Y/N, come draw with me!”

— so happily you give in and you guys are drawing

— until you uncap a marker and smirk

— “Wanna see something cool?”

— and Eri who doesn’t get to see much is absolutely happy with this and agrees immediately

— so you pull off your jacket and start doodling on yourself and as soon as your hand moves away the drawing on your skin practically comes to life

— it runs up your arm and jumps around and dances almost as if it were an animation

— and Eri is just mind blown lmfaooo she’s so curious to how you did it

— and your explain to her that your quirk allows you to animate the drawings on your skin but only on your skin

— it doesn’t matter because she thinks it’s the coolest thing in the world

— so you happily roll your pants up and let her doodle all over your exposed skin and your both having fun watching the animations move

— till Kai walks in on you both and it’s like tires screeching to stop

— at first he sees the markers and then his eyes go from the box to the paper to you laying on the floor with your clothes rolled up and Eri drawing on you

— poor girl is trembling on your leg

— and he’s about to say something when he just stops and watches the deer you drew run across your arm and hop underneath your sleeve

— your just like “oops 😬”

— but he just stares at you with an unreadable expression and just walks out the room and your just 😐 cause your just like “am I in trouble??”

— later when you guys are alone he just pulls up your sleeve and stares at the deer

— and it’s silent as he watches the deer jump and move around like it’s a normal animal

— your scared of what happens next but he just takes his glove off and gently touches where the deer is

— “Kai—“

— “It’s so real...”

— “Uh...yeah...”

— your just silent as his cold fingers brush against the deer until his eyes just move up to you

— “It’s...incredible. Just like you.”

— you turn scarlet at his words and move to pull away but he refuses to let you go, simply admiring the deer in the shadows of your bedroom

— and his touch is absolutely soothing

— so soothing you end up falling asleep looking into his eyes

— later on in the day your doing some cleaning when your sleeve goes up and you see a soft black heart on your shoulder and you smile softly at it

— “I love you too, Kai.”

[kikyozoldyck]

crappy birthday

PAIRING: hidan x reader SUMMARY: your soulmate is shit at birthdays WARNINGS: swearing, violence, descriptions of murder, shitty poetry courtesy of hidan

You wake up on your birthday and don’t feel any different. You go about your daily routine like you do every other day because, as far as you’re concerned, today is like every other day. You’re hardly expecting chocolates because you have no significant other or even friends who might give you sweets to snack on, and even before the incident, you were hardly one to celebrate yourself, although you vaguely remember your parents throwing some ridiculous party for you every year, in fact, your last real, clear memory of them is the three-tiered, casino-themed birthday cake your mother made for you (and proceeded to bleed out all over later that same evening.) 

Oh, well. C’est la vie, and all that, right?

It’s a nice day, you notice once you’ve gotten dressed and wandered out into your kitchen. Not too cold, and certainly not too hot, with a nice breeze, perfect for enjoying a morning that cute little tea shop down the street, with some tea and scones and a book to keep you company.

It’d be nice to share it with someone, if you had anyone. 

(You do have one person, your mind supplies unhelpfully, you’ll always have him.)

You ignore that one, disgusting, traitorous thought in favor of grabbing a worn paperback off your shelf, tying your coat around your waist, toeing on your shoes, and opening your front door.

And then you stop in your track and stare. At the body. On your doorstep

“What the fuck, Hidan?” You swear to yourself, though, you can’t say that you’d be too surprised if the creepy fuck just happened to be close enough to hear it. 

And then Mrs. Sato from next door comes out, humming merrily under her breath as she locks the door behind her before turning to you.

“Good morning, dear. Such a lovely day, isn’t it?”

You smile back, just a little fixedly. “The loveliest.”

“Oh, well! Best enjoy it while it lasts!” Mrs. Sato bobs her grey head a few times and toddles past, stepping around the corpse, like it isn’t there. “Have a nice day, dear.”

“You too, Mrs. S.” You reply politely, finger tapping impatiently against the doorframe as you wait for her to disappear down the stairwell. Then you’re crouching down in the blink of an eye, every sense zeroing in on the body, and that’s when you realize, the body is still breathing.

And that means there’s definitely some weird, ancient, Jashinist ninjutsu involved because aside from the fact that your next-door neighbor didn’t so much as bat an eyelash as she passed, there’s also 1) a hole carved into the chest of the body, meticulously and precisely heart-shaped, just big enough for you to peer inside and watch the exposed organ beat, and 2) the body isn’t just anybody, it’s your childhood rival — Funai Yuka.

You stare for a moment longer, oddly mesmerized by the physical thump of the blood-red heart that you can both hear and see. It is so gorgeously delicate in this one moment, under your complete mercy.

Then, cautiously, you reach out and tug lightly at one tail of the intricately tied bow around Funai’s arms and torso, just below her breasts but above her bound wrists. It is also linked with a red ribbon.

And there’s a card tucked between Funai and the ribbon, one that you retrieve now. It isn’t anything fancy, note hastily scrawled on what looks to be the back of a soba shop receipt with a doodled version of Hidan, covered in Jashinist symbols and what looks like blood, handing a heart — the conventional symbol, not the organ — out to an equally crudely drawn version of yourself. 

You flip it over, and in a slightly messy black scrawl, the card reads,

This dumb bitch thought she was better than you so I Killed her to prove that Nobody is as hot as you P.S. Happy Birthday 

It isn’t signed, but you read it a second time, then a third. And then you laugh, bright and bold in the crisp winter morning, genuine and amused because you didn’t even know Hidan knew what a tanka was — let alone that he could write one.

You look down at Funai again, and it really is sobering to see her like that. Your mind travels back to your childhood, all those long days spent practicing your taijutsu in your parent’s yard in hopes of maybe surpassing her. 

She’d been your worst enemy sure, but she’d been your best friend too. She was the first person you told when you turned twelve, and Hidan’s name appeared on your arm. 

(“Just Hidan?” She’d sneered as you showed her, “hmph. Guess he’s not from any clan. Makes sense, an average soulmate for such an average —”

“—shut up, Bug Queen!” You’d interrupted, tackling her into the dirt, because the name on her hip was Torune Aburame, and everyone knows that the Aburame are total bug-fucking creeps.)

You realize that you’re still smiling when the memory fades. You can almost hear Funai in the back of your mind scolding you about how it’s bad practice for shinobi to show their emotions so freely. 

So, first thing’s first then.

You seize Funai by the throat and haul her inside, slamming the door behind you. Not a drop of blood spills from the open wound as you drag your friend onto your kitchen floor. The tile might have to be sacrificed to the cause, but you’ll just have to deal.

You pull the bow loose, and just like that the genjutsu breaks, Funai’s eyes begin to flutter. She goes from unconscious to fully awake in about three seconds. It’s honestly a little impressive, her memories clearly unaffected if the terror and the fury bleeding into her golden irises are anything to go by, but it’s already too late. 

You’re already rooting around your drawers for a knife clean and sharp enough to mercy-kill her with. She says something, but it’s muffled by the gag and all the blood in her mouth — though you know her well enough by now to know that it’s probably not happy birthday. 

Whatever it is, it’s too late anyway, because you’ve already sunken your entire hand into her chest, palm and fingers wrapped snugly around the rapid-fire recoil of your rival’s heart, by the time she can do anything more than fail at squirming away.

You sigh, because you’re sympathetic, really.

“If it’s any consolation, Bug Queen, you make a great birthday present.”

Then you rip her heart out with one smooth twist of your arm. That weird, old-world soulmate magic floods your system, running along your veins and imprinting into the very essence of your being, with a single glowing soul bond pulsing at the back of your mind and anchoring you to reality so that you aren’t overwhelmed.

--

(And you weren’t always like this, okay?

You used to be a normal person, with normal friends, and normal hobbies, and normal parents that loved you.

But on your twentieth birthday, you received a letter in the mail — the envelope was big and red, and it had the words ‘to my soulmate’ stamped on the front. You were so ridiculously excited.

When you opened it, it went off and destroyed the entire house and killed everyone inside, everyone except, well — you. 

You didn’t show the team of ANBU investigators the card that came a day later. 

It was a stick-figure drawing of your home blowing up with your friends and family inside it. Their bodies are scattered to bits over the page in a bloody mess with the words:

‘Sorry I couldn’t be there in person. I hope you liked the gift! :) Love you. — xoxo your soulmate’ scrawled hastily at the bottom.)

(After that, you begin to mark the calendar. It is a simple red X on a single day out of the year. There is no indication of what it is for, but you know.)

— A year later, you get home from a few hours spent at the training grounds, only to find an innocuous-looking briefcase leaning against the door of your apartment. 

Your heartbeat quickens, and you groan, stooping to pick it up, plucking up the card as well from where it’s slipped into the handle.

Another Hidan original, you note as you duck into your apartment and place the briefcase on the dinner table. 

The drawing is surprisingly minimalist considering Hidan’s usual style, it’s an artlessly drawn picture of you, butt-naked holding miniature globe in your poorly proportioned hands.

Is he gonna blow the whole world up this time? You think with a sigh and flip the card open. In the same sloppy handwriting as before, you read,

Don’t be a pussy. This is not a bomb, okay? You will like this gift.

You thumb the dark lettering before turning to the briefcase and opening it. It actually takes you several long seconds to realize what it is exactly that you’re looking at.

There are files inside, sheaves of papers tucked surprisingly neatly into folders, and—

You reach inside, where two passports are shuffled into one corner. 

One has your name, your personal information — all chillingly accurate. 

One doesn’t. 

Both have your face.

You set those aside, and with a sense of growing urgency, you fumble to open the folders and rifle through the papers.

They’re-

They’re identification papers. Two sets. One is fakes. But the other—

Hidan has restored your identity, you realize, and for a moment, you don’t even remember how to breathe.

(These days, you can get by. You have plenty of cash to use, so you don’t need a job, and so long as you’re not crossing country borders, you have no use for travel papers.)

But it also shackles you, the lack of an identity, walking around like a corpse.

Paying for Hidan's crimes, all these years, even now, as if almost burning alive and watching your entire family die and losing your goddamn mind weren’t enough to atone for the crime of simply having a soulmate.

And now…

You pick up another file with trembling fingers and flick that open. It’s a manuscript. It’s your manuscript, from when you were a writer, a really fucking good one—you might add, and despite having to always battle that hack Jiraiya for the spot on the best seller’s list, which honestly never made sense to you because your works were clearly better — but you suppose there's no accounting for taste, you enjoyed what you did, creating, building your stories.

And now you can do it again. A piece of what you’ve lost, returned.

And it isn’t even just that. The other set of papers – the fake ones – mean something too. It’s a way out, a new start if you ever want to leave. To walk away from this godforsaken country and begin anew. To not only lay your past to rest but also leave it behind so that it will never drag you down again. There’s one last file at the bottom, tissue-thin, and it only contains a single slip of paper.

It’s another note: “Sorry, I fucked up your life and shit. Won’t do it again. Happy birthday.”

— The next year, it’s another card, but only a card, with a classic birthday cake superimposed on a baby pink background. An invitation, with a time scribbled on the inside cover, but dead center on the right, a katauta,

I am running out of ways to show you that I love you lets fuck? (Couldn’t fit this in the katauta but I do oral.)

…The way that it makes your heart skip is ridiculous, and honestly, probably an indication of how fucking lonely you are. It’s not even remotely sophisticated, certainly no Henjo or Kisen. And yet…

Your face. Your face feels hot. God, you’re blushing. And your mouth is doing something funny. It takes a moment to realize you’re trying to pull a truly goofy smile. You’d probably never it live down if anyone else were there to witness it. You take a deep breath. Then you glance at the time one last time before pocketing the letter and heading for the bathroom. 

You have a night to prepare for because, apparently, your soulmate is a closet romantic.

— The door swings open, and you’re already smiling as you drink Hidan in. The man has grey hair slicked back with enough grease to start a forest fire and distinctive purple eyes. Still, they suit him, and when he smiles back, it reaches all the way to his eyes – like sunlight reflecting off whiskey, like sunsets when they spark with magic.

Wordlessly, you step back and let Hidan in. He takes a second to toe his shoes off – because he may be a murderous freak, but he’s still your soulmate, and it pays to be polite – but when he rises, he promptly crowds you right up against the nearest wall and kisses you for the very first time, hard and hungry and thorough.

A possessive hand sinks into your hair. Another pulls you close by the waist, and then you’re arching up into him, a twist of his hips sending sparks of pleasure darting across your nerves even as you open your mouth and let Hidan devour you.

The air is heady with the heat of your combined arousal by the time you part for air. Hidan’s lips are swollen red, and you’re both more than a little breathless. You’re not dry humping anymore, but Hidan’s hands remain cradled around your hips, and you’re absently tangling Hidan’s hair around your fingers. Your faces remain close enough that your noses brush.

Hidan’s eyes gleam like firelight as he peers at you, smug and satisfied, warmed by something softer.

“So, like, did all those fucking poems pay off? Do you, like, love me and shit?”

“Yeah. They did.” You smile, and your own words spill over Hidan’s lips, “I love you and shit.”

Hidan smiles and you feel the soul bond glowing bright and solid right down to the atomic level.

A new bond stirs between you, tentative, and fresh but already luminous with potential. Before you can blink, you’re being shoved against the wall again as Hidan flings his arms around you, laughing, laughing, laughing, joyous delight and overwhelming relief.  

[starrykite]

designed a couple characters for a video game idea i had during the power outage today, details/transcripts for those who can’t read my handwriting under the cut

so basically the idea behind this is some shitty Gamer(TM) who accidentally gets stuck in his little sisters generic “Save the Princess/her Magical Kingdom!” video game and has to learn the Power of Friendship/Kindness/Love etc. to get out. The thing is, depending on how you play the game, this can be done the Easy Way or the Hard Way (kinda like Undertale but if it decided subtlety was not necessary in presenting its moral). Ideas are still pretty rough, but basically if the player is willing to accept that not everything has to be dark and gloomy all the time (i.e. helping out villagers, not killing enemies, etc) you get the Good Ending, where the mc realizes that Hey Maybe Being Happy is Good Actually. On the other hand, if the player decides to play it like a dark video game (i.e. killing enemies or even civilians, trashing the landscape, generally Being a Jerk) the game molds to match, slowly twisting the happy g-rated game into a survival horror of sorts, with the mc dealing with the increasing concern of “If You Die In The Game You Die In Real Life’, not to mention the guilt of ruining what was once a happy, prosperous kingdom.

Transcripts for bad handwriting (added stuff looks like this):

Image 1

-Gamer(TM)

-Avg, 16-18 y/o boy

-”ugh sjws ruining games”

-pessimist

-horrible older brother

-”im not sexist i just think its unrealistic that the mc is a woman who learns how to fight fast pretty mary-sueish yknow”

-Character arc is learning how to stop being an a**hole

-Straight(TM) (actually bi but too deep in internalized homo/biphobia to realize) (note: will likely be addressed ingame)

-by end of game he has Grown As A Person

-princess is supposed to be love interest but he might feel weird dating a vg character (fair) so mainly friends but probably left up to player

words on img1 doodles

-”$*@#$!”

-(on computer screen as he looks to the camera with clown nose on) BAD TAKE

-Pre-Game: “r u triggered??”, jerk, cringe, loser, edgy, “no homo” gatekeeper, unhappy

-Post-Game: Chill, bi (and proud), good guy, pro-accessibility, good brother, Tired(TM), “im sorry i am now a nicer man”

-(bi panic) @ some random guy

-(bad route)==> *sounds of gore* ”THIS IS A KIDS GAME???”

Image 2:

-just a litol gorl

-precious ray of sunshine

-idolizes her big brother (even though he doesn’t really deserve it)

-wants to be a gamer

-obsessed with animal crossing, minecraft, roblox, etc.

-will infodump for hours straight if prompted

-age is Small

-constantly trying to get big bro to play with her, to little success

-closest shared interest is zelda

-this is how she convinces her brother to try her little kid game (by telling him they’re similar)

-rough n’ tumble

-kind of kid that goes down a hill in a wagon and is Shocked when she crashes

-clumsy

-crashes a lot, very durable

-unshakeable

-Gives Her Brother Heart Attacks

words on img2 doodles

-”keep your sister out of trouble, ok?”

-”yeah whatever”

-==later==>

-”W H E E E E” “NO!!!!”

[jenomark]

Chapter 2

○Pairing: College!Mark x Reader (Female)

○Other Members/ Characters: X

○Genre: fluff & a little angst

○Warnings: One of the characters dialogue tends to be a little offensive at times. It’s all things I’ve heard spoken to me, or to my friends. I kept it in because she reminds me a lot of people I’ve experienced in my life, and I draw my inspiration from shitty people like that.

○Word count: 2,005

→Summary: A new school, no friends, and a boy who unexpectedly runs into you and changes everything.

______________________________________________________________

  You had a dream of lost rings, and of boys with their mothers. You went to sleep so late after getting in that you crashed on your bed still fully clothed. You ended up wandering campus until late at night, people watching, and eating microwavable pizza all by yourself. When you arrived back at the dorm, your roommate was passed out and clutching her childhood stuffed animal. You don’t remember ever feeling so much happen at once, but your time with the boy and his letter was the most exciting thing to happen to you thus far.

  You woke up to the sound of your roommate loudly filing her nails. She sat on her bed just watching you, her eyes glazed over. When she heard you stir, she let out a deep sigh every few seconds until you looked at her.

“Do you think real love exists?” she asked.

  Having her talking to you was a breakthrough, but all you needed was two more hours of sleep. You tried rolling over, but she came over and sat at the edge of your bed.

“I don’t mean, like, love for your cat, but real, genuine love.” she said.

“You’re eighteen,” you groaned. “The only love you should have is between you and your kpop boys.”

“Don’t mock me.”

 You shoved a pillow over your head. “I’m not mocking you. I am telling you the truth.”

“You are mocking me,” she said. “I know girls like you. You’re so cynical and you think everyone hates you because you’re edgy but you’re just scared of receiving love so you refuse all of it.”

  She removed the pillow from your face and threw it onto the floor. The look on your face probably gave her enough ammo on you to last all year.

“I’m right,” she said. “Admit it.”

  Your phone was lying beside you. You picked it up and looked at it: 0 calls, 0 messages, 0 emails.

“The only thing I’ve ever loved is a plant, and I killed it because I loved it too much.” you said.

“A boy came by to see you.”

“What? What boy?” you asked.

  You lifted yourself into a sitting position, which hurt your neck. You touched your head and recalled the moments from yesterday.

“What did he look like?” 

“Asian”

“That’s racist.”

 “I’m sorry,” she said. “He was cute, in a momma’s boy kind of way. He looks like he plays baseball and loves Jesus.”

“That’s offensive.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m trying. Is he your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Do you want him to be?”

“No.”

“I guess that is for the best,” she said. “Men are a disappointment.”

  You rolled out of bed and looked in the mirror. You looked liked a mess. You combed your fingers through your hair and checked yourself out. 

“Are you sure?” she said. “You’re looking a little too hard at that mirror. He probably likes what he sees edgelord.”

“Yes. I mean, no...Yes I’m sure..no I don’t want him.” you said. “What did he want, anyhow? Not that I care, because I don’t.”

“He wants you to meet him in the cafeteria at 11.” she shrugged. “If you’re going, can you please get me a fucking doughtnut this time? I’m trying to eat all of my feelings.”

  You looked at your phone and saw that it was 11:10. You ran to your little closet and picked out a new outfit, tearing your clothes off from the night before. You had never changed in front of anyone, but you didn’t let it phase you. You decided that you would really try and make an effort with your life.

“Goodbye!” she yelled as you ran out. “Stupid bitch.”

  You arrived at the cafeteria out of breath. The place was huge and far too expensive, even with a meal plan. You scanned the crowds, looking for him, but couldn’t find him. When you were getting ready to give up, you heard a sigh from behind you.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

  You turned and faced him. He looked surprisingly chipper, and nothing like the boy you met yesterday.

“You wanted to meet with me?”

“Yeah,” he said. 

  He held up your ring at eye level. When you didn’t take it, he grabbed your hand and unfolded your fingers until he saw your palm. He placed the ring in the center and closed your fist.

“I went and talked to her this morning,” he said. “I thought you should know.”

  He walked away, motioning for you to keep up with him. He stopped by the sugary doughnut case and bought two, one for you and one for him. He handed it to you and said there was no need to thank him.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked.

“Hold this.” he said.

  He handed you a beautifully bound blue notebook. You tucked it underneath your arm as he paid for the treats. When he was finished, you kept walking.

“You seemed hurt.” he said, shrugging.

“I was hurt when you bumped into me, and that’s it.” you said. “It’s your life.”

“Either way,” he said. “I went and I apologized to her. You were right. I shouldn’t have left her a letter. I think I knew it would damage us beyond repair, and I think that is what I wanted. I realize now that maybe that wasn’t the best way to go about it.”

   You took a nibble of your doughnut and looked away from him. There was something about him that made you feel things and you didn’t like it. You didn’t know if it was because you were attracted to him, or because he made you feel comfortable.

“I’m Mark, by the way,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me your name. Your roommate already told me. You look peaceful when you’re sleeping.”

“Gross.”

  Just like that, things began to feel easier. Mark laughed, the sound loud and contagious. His whole face lit up from happiness, and it made you stop and stare a little too long.

“I have to go to class,” you said. “Thanks for the doughnut, Markie.”

  You slipped your ring back on your finger and examined it in the light. Everything seemed right. There was no angry ex-girlfriend, crisis averted. Your roommate was opening up a little, and there was a new person standing right in front of you.

“That’s a pretty ring.” he said.

“My father gave it to me,” you said. “I wear it to remind myself that men are awful.”

                                      ------------------------

  Sitting down for class, you untucked Mark’s notebook from your arm. You hadn’t noticed it was there until you had said goodbye to him. You set it down in front of you and paid attention to your professor. All throughout the lecture, you looked down at it. Your fingertips touched the edges of the paper, the string holding it together, and his name embossed on the front.

  I could take one peek. He wouldn’t ever know. I could find out which dorm he lives in,  and return it to him while he is sleeping. He would be none the wiser. He didn’t seem that bright, anyhow.

  You pulled the string apart slowly. Paranoia set in fast. You looked at the faces all around you to make sure you didn’t have a class with him and maybe you just didn’t know it. When you felt safe, you yanked the last of the string. It was all there for the taking. Now all you had to do was open it and look inside. Chances are, it wouldn’t even be that interesting and you could erase the bad decision from your memory.

  Trust is a thin, blue line. You walked it constantly like a shaky acrobat walking the tightrope. You didn’t want to be the girl who pried into other peoples business. You knew it had something to do with your own life being dull, but that was no excuse.

“Cool book.” the person next to you said.

“Thanks.”

  You opened it up like it belonged to you. On the first page was a letter that could only be from his mother. You snapped the book shut and decided you couldn’t do it. After a few minutes, you opened it again but skipped the first page. Inside were little notes about how to fry an egg in a woman's handwriting, and little words written in the margins. Diving in deeper, you read lyrics and diary entries, saw little doodles and bucket lists. Mark was a talented writer. You wanted to read more, to really get inside of his brain, but class was ending and it was time to return the book.

   When you went to return the book, you couldn’t find him anywhere. You found out that he didn’t even live on campus, and that he hadn’t made any friends. You were hoping to bump into him, but there was no such luck.

“I can hold it while you’re gone?” your roommate said. “He might not go home over the weekend, like me. He could come looking for it.”

“That’s okay,” you said. “I’ll just bring it home with me.”

                                           ------------------------

  In the car ride home, your mother was silent. You were hoping to convince Renjun to come back home like he was supposed to, but he wouldn’t answer his phone. You held Mark’s notebook in your lap and occasionally flipped through it. You had touched it so much that it felt like yours. You had nearly read all of it by now, too.

“ What is that?” your mother asked.

‘“A friends book. ” you said, the word ‘friend’ feeling foreign on your tongue.

“Mark?”

“That’s his name.”

“A boy?”

“Yes, mom, a boy.” you said. 

“A boy you like?”

“He’s just a boy.”

“Your father was ‘just a boy’.” she said.

  She didn’t talk about your father often. When she did, it’s like she forgot what happened for one blissfully ignorant moment. She had lived in memories since he left. The good things made her smile, old photographs of the two of the together, or an anniversary gift that meant everything to her.  After mentioning him, she always grew quiet and somber. It angered you that she would do that to herself, that she would go through a league of emotions just to stop at pity for her actions.

“Let’s just stop talking.” you said. 

  You flipped through Mark’s notebook, finding comfort in every dog-eared page. On the second from last page, you noticed a number written really small in the upper right corner. It blended in before, but now it definitely looked like a number. You brought out your phone and texted it.

You: Mark? Does this number belong to a Mark? His last name is Lee. You: Hello? I’m sorry. I’m trying to get into contact with a boy named Mark.

Him: i do know a Mark, I think.

You: Mark Lee?

Him: yes, I think so. I heard that guy is handsome.

You: I heard his mother wipes crumbs from his face.

Him: i hate you. How did you get this number? I try not to give my number out to weird girls.

You: Your notebook. You gave it to me to hold. Where have you been? I’ve tried giving it back. 

Him: Busy.

You: It’s been a whole week.

Him: A whole week of you in my life. I must be lucky.

You: Well, if you want your precious notebook, you have to come and get it.

Him: Where are you?

You: Driving home.

Him: And home is?

You: Hell.

Him: Directions. I need directions. That book is important to me.

You: Oh, right. 

Him: did you look inside of it?

Him: You’re not answering. You did. Were you sent to ruin my life?

You: I’m sorry.

Him: You could have lied.

You: I don’t lie to my friends.

  Mark didn’t text back. You put your phone down and hugged his notebook to your chest. Your mother didn’t question anything, just drove in silence.

[ogres-against-onision]

i watched kai’s most recent tattoo video so you don’t have to

featuring: my snarky commentary! apologies in advance. everything under the cut cause hoo boy, i don’t wanna make a mile-long post to fill up the entire dash

begins by complaining about appearance. typical

"i'm here to do another tattoo tour video" considering you cycle through the same five/six main ideas for your videos, like haircuts or dyeing, either shopping for new clothes (at discount stores because yOuRe PoOr, but still manage to spend a fortune) or purging your closet, going on a date (where Gurg always makes a scene), getting new tattoos/piercings, iconic vaping for the first time vids, or dressing up as some ~*~ uwu aesthetic boi ~*~, you didn't have much of a choice

"i have quite a few new ones" yeah aka artwork you ripped off

claims a lot of people asked for it, but like, how? his comments have been turned off forever and i doubt he has a lot of interaction anywhere else

"in the market for a new tattoo" let me guess… another shitty flower? either clipart from google or yet another image ripped off from an artist

got his first tattoo after turning 18, and it's the shitty 27 tattoo we all know and love. claims it's significant because the number has been around everywhere during their relationship and it's ~*~meaningful~*~

"as i've gotten older i've become less skeptical" yeah Kai. we can tell, given that you blame all your problems on mercury retrograde

"yes tattoo number two looks like crosses" but actually is the number 14, representing their wedding date

talks about how he kept a list of tattoos he wanted for years, but doesn't follow the list because his recent tattoos are things he thinks of right off the top of his head. also, yeah, we can tell since your placement sucks and none of them work together well and you look more like a Doodle Bear than a person who thinks out their tattoos for more than fifteen seconds

charlie! the rainbow volcano, or as Kai calls it, the "gaycano." missed opportunity to call it volgayno instead but wtf do i know. complains it looks like a cake when really it's the volcano animation from YouNow. which, in my opinion, really just looks like something off the discount rack at your local Claire's

explains the history behind the volcano, "before YouNow was a toxic environment." by toxic environment, you mean your viewers commenting about their concerns on not only your safety and potential abuse, but the way Gurg treats your pets and your children? so toxic that people want to know that other living, breathing things in your home are safe and happy

"i hate ankle tattoos but i have to get one more since i have three, and i need to complete the ankles and have one on each side" 

next up is his elephant tattoo that symbolizes his children. okay okay, i'll admit i have nothing bad to say abt this one

next is the flower tattoo on his shoulder, represents his family apparently. a "family crest," if you will

Gurg interrupts of course and first thing Kai says is "what the fuck, dude," which is always how i speak to my significant other, wbu guys? :-)

back to the tattoo. "if I'm being honest, it's my least favorite tattoo. i don't like the style of it and the placement??" UM? If I recall correctly you sat down w Gurg to design the tattoo? but alright

number six is Yoshi and Gurg of course has Toad to match. (jesus christ dude how many tattoos do you need to symbolize you and your shitty husband?)

tattoo seven is his lavender on his collarbone. says he's thought about having the same tattoo mirrored on the other side, but it's too "scene boi" and he thinks he's "too old" for that. let's look into the recent things he's done that he's "too old" for:           o the other shitty clipart tattoos?? hello?           o having barely legal girls in and out of his home all the time like a revolving door           o vague posting/subtweeting abt his heartbreak on his private socials           o turning himself into a fuckboy, an e boy, an anime boy, an emo boy, a soft boy… really i could go on           o changing his hair color ever two weeks like a middle school girl           o making 10+ minute long videos just straight complaining abt his issues, once again, blaming it all on mercury retrograde bc he can't take responsibilityt

he "you are my strength" tattoo in Gurg's handwriting. barf.

assures viewers that a mark by his tattoo isn't a bruise, just a burn from a wafflemaker

next up is the big ass gray rose on his forearm. didn't someone say he's still copying Billie/other exes? they get floral tattoos, then next thing you know, Kai showcases one

last but CERTAINLY not least, the sunflower tattoo. reminds him of his mom and Taking Back Sunday, his fav emo band. aka the tattoo we all know was completely ripped off from an artist

the real kicker is that none of these seem to be well done and the ink is all blotchy and Kai says he needs touch-ups, but won't to them because "that shit hurted!" that's another thing he's too old for. quoting vine all the time like it's a personality trait. listen, i still love vine, but damn it's just too much

[bonnieisaway]

a blooming garden - saiki k x oc

HI I KNOW NO ONE LIKES WATTPAD BUT I DONT HAVE AN AO3 STILL SO UNTIL THEN YOU GET TO DEAL WITH ALL MY SHIT ON HERE SO HERES MY SHITTY SELF INSERT OC STORY THE FIRST CHAPTER IS REALLY SHORT OK BYE 

wattpad link 

chapter one - flowers bloom

My name is Yua Ichika. 

And I’m a flower. 

I suppose I should be more specific. I’m not an actual flower- I’m a human girl with a peculiar curse. See, I’ve lived in Japan my whole life, but when I was younger I moved around a lot. I don’t remember a lot of my childhood. A lot of it is a blur of doodles, moving trucks, and bickering with my older sister, Aneko. But I have one thing I remember very well. 

I suppose I was about 6 at the time. Aneko was 7. I went to school with this girl who’s name I’ll never remember who claimed to be a psychic. She and I liked the same boy. I think his name was Hisato. Hisato liked me, and the girl was bitter when I told her.

I think if anything this taught me two things. One: don’t tease people. I remember teasing her and before Aneko reprimanded me the psychic told me I’d regret this, and anytime I fell in love with a boy, if he did not love me back, flowers would bloom throughout my body until I died. 

The second thing I learned was simple: don’t ever fall in love. I’ve stuck to this rule pretty well. There was only one other time I could think of, in middle school when I liked some girl who was out of my league. It was only a minor crush, though, and the flowers went away fast.

..And then there was now. Something else I’ve learned: the flowers are different every time. Last time, the flowers were oleanders. Oleanders are usually associated with charm and romance, but they could kill humans. The oleanders never affected me like that, though, and I was lucky when they stopped blooming and fell away. It’s really hard to lie about why you’ve got a flower blooming over your eye.  But I did realize now: the oleander represented how I felt about her and her true personality. I loved her. She was toxic.

I have freckles across my cheeks and arms. People usually assume that I was born with them and that it’s just a cute trait. That is, when people pay attention to me. But the freckles are actually places where flowers have bloomed and fallen away before. My arms, face, and neck. 

Do I regret teasing that girl? Yes. I do. Would I go back and change my actions if I could? No. I wouldn’t. I know that one day, this may kill me. Or maybe in the eyes of some people I’ll never live a “full life.” But I know I wouldn’t have learned some certain lessons if I didn’t.

Which brings me to now. I’d like to emphasize, I don’t curse often since I don’t talk often. But I’d like to dub myself as a fucking dumbass.  A really big idiot. And the reason why I say this is because I just coughed up a golden bloom- what I presume to be a buttercup flower, in the school bathroom. 

This isn’t as bad as it can be. I’ve had oleanders cover my eyes before, this will be fine, this will pass. I know exactly who the cause of this is, too. Well, to phrase in a better term, I know who it is I’ve fallen in love with. 

I wipe my hands on my handkerchief and place it back in my pocket as I look at myself in the mirror. Brown hair cascades past my shoulders, framing blue eyes hidden behind glasses. Freckles dot my face and neck, or what’s visible of them. There’s even a few freckles on my left eyelid, but they’re never noticeable. I stride out of the restroom and into my classroom with feigned confidence, our teacher nodding to adknowledge I’ve returned as I take my seat towards the back of the classroom. 

I can’t help but zone out, staring out the window lost in thought. I’ve liked Saiki for a while now. I guess it just took a bit for my curse to kick in. My eyes slowly scan the classroom of students. All of them I know their names, but I’m not friends with any of them. 

Those are the measures I’ve taken to make sure I don’t fall in love. I’ll be honest, I don’t care if I’m alone. And I still wouldn’t ever go back and change what I did. But I’m still afraid of one thing:

I don’t wanna die.

My eyes continue to scan until they fall on Aiura Mikoto, one of the two psychics in our class. And, well, the only known psychic in our class. I don’t know why but she looks so familiar to me. Like a distant memory, or someone you saw in a dream once. Before I know it the bell rings, dismissing our daily classes.

As I stand and collect my things, my eyes fall to the note I’ve written, lying untouched aside from my handwriting, lacing the page in black pen. I pick it up as I throw my bag over my shoulder, and I’m the last to walk out of the classroom. Our teacher casts me a glance, one of concern, as I leave. She’s usually worried about me, when she remembers I exist. 

That’s the thing about not having friends. No one remembers who I am, and no one cares to. It’s a side effect. I do it to stay safe. Of course, I have my moments, say in gym class I’ll save a game or score a goal where people get happy and if I’m lucky they’ll remember my name. But that’s about it. 

As I walk through the halls of PK Academy I pass Teruhashi in conversation with Saiki. I smile at them both. Only Teruhashi smiles back.

I’ve always been jealous of Teruhashi. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be. Pretty. Loved. Friendly. Outgoing. But I’m never hateful of her. If anything, maybe one day I’d like to be her friend. But I’m always cautious, and I’m sure with a girl of her pure social status she is too, so.. I’ve never tried. But her distracting Saiki gives me an opportunity as I approach the shoe lockers. 

I slip the note I’ve written into Saiki’s locker before turning to mine, conveniently next to his. Call that cruel irony, huh? I change my shoes quickly and walk out of school, thankfully leaving before Saiki could get to his locker. It’d be really awkward if he opened it and found a note from me while I was next to him. 

I walk out of the school gates and ahead of me I see Kuboyasu and Kaido walking and talking, laughing. I smile to myself. They’ve got a nice dynamic. Also I could see them dating. Just throwing that out there. I live close to Kaido’s house, an apartment near his. I dig in my bag to find my phone and earphones and it’s barely a minute before all I can hear is the music. 

I’ve always been a bit lonely. Sometimes music helps fill the void. I think one of the cruelest things about my curse was the once upon a time I had friends. And I don’t remember them well but I remember how it felt. Having people care and always be there for you. Maybe it’s dramatic in the sense- the measures I’ve taken to avoid this- but it’s all I can ever think of.

As I enter the general store that’s placed along my path home I take out one of my earbuds and turn to the register- only to see Nendo Riki, my classmate. He smiles wide and greets me. “Hey, pal!”

“Hi, Nendo.” I smile as I turn to the aisles. Nendo calls me pal because I hung out with him once or twice after we had to work together on a partner project. I let him be the exception because.. Come on. It’s Nendo. But I never talk to him much since he’s usually with Saiki. If I’m by Saiki and I fall for him harder.. It’ll only quicken the process.  

I stop in front of a clear fridge with sodas in it. If I’m anything I’m addicted to coca cola, I’ll admit it. I open it and grab a coke- vanilla float flavored, and walk back to where Nendo stands by a register. I place it on the counter. A man who seems to be his boss is behind him, guiding him, which is unsurprising to me.

“How have you been, buddy? We don’t talk often!” Nendo grins as his boss guides him and I hand him 300 yen.  

“I’ve been alright. You?” I ask him kindly as he hands the bottle back to me. I open it as he talks. 

“I’ve been great! Recently, my other buddy and I, Saiki, went to the beach with Kaido and Kuboyasu as well! It was great!” He seems overjoyed. He’s like a stray puppy who I left food for once and now he comes back every week but I can’t take him in because in this metaphor I’d be allergic to dogs. 

“I’m sure it was fantastic, Nendo. I have to go, though.” 

“Oh, okay! Bye, buddy!” He waves as I leave and I give a small wave as I exit the store and continue walking home. 

The walk isn’t much longer as I finally arrive in my apartment and kick off my shoes. I live alone, and Mom and Aneko live across the city. Mom pays for this apartment because once upon a time PK Academy was my dream school. Now it’s just.. A school. But I’m not necessarily complaining. It could be worse. 

I drop my bag somewhere along my route to my bedroom before changing out of my school uniform and into a black sweater and shorts. I dig through my cabinets and grab a box of pocky before going to walk into my living room.

I sit on my couch and play idle games on my phone as my mind wanders to the note I left Saiki. No, it was not a love note.

‘Saiki, I’ve got something important I need to talk to you about. I know about your powers and I have a favor to ask of you. Signed, Yua Ichika.’ 

That's what I wrote. I had a plan, to ensure I’d be okay: 

I’d ask Saiki Kusuo to make me hate him. 

The reality is I’ve known of his powers for a while now. How, you ask? I heard Tortisuka and Aiura yelling that day they were trying to yell at Akechi, or something. I got curious and when you look for a pattern you find one. I’ve gathered at least some: teleportation, telepathy, clairvoyance, phsychometry, astral project, and there’s probably more. 

I never bother him about it though. Generally, at school I keep my thoughts away from him as best I can. If I don’t stand out to him there’s no chance anything will happen. With this curse, sure, there’s a chance that maybe if he likes me back the flowers would fall away with time. 

But that doesn’t happen. I’ve seen Saiki before: Saiki Kusuo does not fall in love.  So this is my last option. I can’t fall out of love. I’ve tried before. 

Last year. Before time rewinded. 

I don’t know why but I’m assuming Saiki rewound time for something. I have all the memories of last year- and so does everyone else- but I’m the only one who realizes this. Because I was seconds from death when he rewound time. So I have to take this precaution now in case he doesn’t rewind again. 

And it’d be selfish to ask him to rewind the whole world because I don’t wanna die. So as much as I don’t want to this is the last option I can think of. 

I have to get myself to hate Saiki Kusuo. 

[ccallahann]

Journal Entry: First steps.

So I’m supposed to let everything out. In a healthy way. Yay.

I haven’t written a journal in years. Last time was in med school I guess. It’s been a while. My handwriting’s gotten shit. *Insert joke about doctors handwriting here.*

Have to start somewhere. I don’t know where, but a lengthy prologue might help with that, works as a crutch to get the mind rolling.

There are so many thoughts I could write down. Help you help me or whatever. I know I’m sick. It’s a self-aware purgatory, knowing your diagnosis personally, and I’ve treated it before. Pills. Therapy. Routines. Healthy outlets, find the source of it and deal with that trauma. Exercise, diet, routine, therapy. The same thing, over and over and over again, until everything balances out and I’m fit for freedom again. Do I even want that anymore? Existential crisis. Joy.

I know where the trauma stems from. It’s always been obvious, and I wish I could lock it inside, somewhere deep so I wouldn’t think about it. Now that I can’t drink it rears its head more often. It was better when I was numb. Her eyes and hateful words, they have a greater effect now. 

I’ve sat hours by myself on the bad days, and thought back on what I’ve done. Morality blurs during the shitty periods. I know that I’m doing something wrong, but in that moment I don’t care. The pain is my go-to outlet they say. I’ve told that to myself. Fistfights help, I don’t have to think when those happen. There’s only adrenaline, fear, anger, pain, a distraction from the real world where I have nothing left to live for. That thought has been prominent too many times. Nothing to live for.

I made a list once. Of reasons I have to not take that bottle of pills, to not let someone beat me to death, to not find a tall building and ending it all.

My brother. He’s the only one I have left, and I’m the only one he got. Family, at least. He said he’d made a lot of friends in prison, good friends that support him in ways I can’t. Sure there’s the extended family; cousins, aunts, uncles, but they don’t want anything to do with us. Degenerates, born bastards, out of wedlock, scandalous. Surprising traditions in the Callahan family tree. Ironic, considering we’re all either regular assholes or entitled assholes.

The other reason? To find my deadbeat fucking dad and beating the shit out of him. All I know he’s Irish, from Cork, and looks like me in my 50’s. As much as I had to listen to my mother degrade him through me, I know I have a right to find answers. If not, then violence is as good an answer as any. If he’s dead? I’m gonna take a piss on is grave. Fuck that guy.

The opposite list is a whole ass book. Harry Potter who? I have no one. I’m sick, I’m toxic, abusive, insecure, alone. Rightfully so. I’ve looked back on how I’ve treated those I loved. Insecure, showering them with affection, clingy, overbearing, overflowing with nigh godlike adoration, then nothing. I hated them, claimed they were with me out of pity, obligation, an exotic treat to play with until the novelty wore out. Jealous for no reason. Antagonistic, hateful, abusive, violent. I don’t know how the last one managed to deal with all that shit for over a year. Bless his heart, but fuck him for calling the cops that sent me here. “You’re sick, Case. You need help, and I’ve tried. I can’t do this anymore.” Ding dong, Seattle PD, open up, you’re heading for the looney bin bitch.

So now I’m here. Now you have to deal with me instead of the society out there. I don’t know if I should feel sorry for you or not. At least you knew what you were getting into when you chose to work in this branch. Good luck. I’m gonna fight you every step of the way, just because I have nothing outside this mansion anymore. Might as well make it difficult for ya :)

[Multitude of scribbles and doodles fill the margins of the page, attempts to get the pen working, others just to distract from bad thoughts? The bottom right of the page is nearly torn from the ink repeatedly drawn over and over. But it’s not the first page, six slivers of torn paper are noticeable where the bindings meet.]

[splendidlyimperfect]

For @oceanwaves-blog, because you are lovely person and sometimes life can be rough, but we always have people who care about us.

Summary: Gray's not feeling great, so Natsu comes up with a surprise to help him feel better. Rating: General Audiences Pairings: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, Music, Inspired by Music, Family Feels, chosen family, sweet husbands, Best Friends, Fluff, minor hurt/comfort, Happy Ending, Gray's a bit depressed, but Natsu's a good husband

“You okay, Snowflake?”

Natsu slipped up behind Gray in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Gray’s waist and kissing the back of his neck. Gray sighed, leaning back into the embrace and putting his hand over Natsu’s on his stomach.

“I dunno,” he said quietly, waiting for the hiss of the Keurig to stop before grabbing his coffee mug. He didn’t turn around, just ran his thumb over the back of Natsu’s hand and stared at the tiles along the counter. “Just tired.”

“You always say that when you’re sad,” Natsu murmured against Gray’s neck. He pulled Gray tighter against him and kissed behind his ear. “I love you.”

“Love you too, mon coeur,” Gray said softly. “I dunno, I’ve just been... work is stressful and stupid things are getting to me.” He rubbed his face, then took a sip of his coffee. “My shoulder’s been hurting which is dumb cause it’s been seventeen years.”

“Not dumb,” Natsu said, taking Gray’s hand and placing it on his scarred left arm. “This still hurts sometimes too.” Gray ran his fingers gently down Natsu’s forearm and across his wrist. “I’m sorry you’re feeling shitty,” Natsu added. “Anything I can do?”

“Mm.” Gray set his coffee down and turned around slowly in the circle of Natsu’s arms. Natsu gave him a soft smile and leaned in for a kiss. “Kisses are good.”

“You guys are so sweet it’s disgusting.” They both looked up to see Sylvie standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a smile on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. Gray laughed, letting go of Natsu and moving over to hug Sylvie.

“That’s new,” Natsu commented, kissing Sylvie on the cheek and pointing to the ring in her septum. “What’s your mom think?”

“She thinks you’re a bad influence,” Sylvie said, rolling her eyes and gesturing to Natsu’s own piercings. Natsu laughed, leaning back against the counter. “It’s better now that I’m in the college dorms, though. We fight less.”

“Told you,” Natsu said. “You want a coffee before we head out, or you ready to rock?”

“Already stopped at Starbucks, your frappucino is in the car.” Sylvie grinned.

“You’re my favorite niece,” Natsu said. “Don’t tell Kiya or Ada.” Then he turned and pulled Gray into another quick hug. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Gray said, kissing Natsu’s forehead. “I’ve got a bunch of work stuff I’ve gotta get through. Go have fun with your music.”

“’kay.” Natsu waited until Sylvie was back at the front door before pressing another soft kiss to Gray’s lips. “Text me if you need anything, okay? Je t’aime.”

Gray sighed, pressing his face into Natsu’s hair before letting him go. “Je t’aime aussi.”

~*~*~*~

“Why do you have Uncle Gray’s meeting notes?”

Sylvie stood in the middle of Ryos and Sting’s basement, frowning at the sheaf of papers on Natsu’s chair. There were several crumpled pages, covered with Gray’s neat handwriting and various doodles in the margins.

“’cause I have an idea,” Natsu replied, grabbing another chair. He turned it around, straddling it and crossing his arms over the back. “But I need your help.”

Sylvie raised an eyebrow and Natsu grabbed one of the pages, pointing at the doodles - they were actually lines of music that Gray had written. “I wanna learn to play this,” Natsu said, “but I can’t read music, it’s almost as bad as reading books.” He made a face. “If you play it on the piano, I can pick it up by ear, though.”

Sylvie took the music from Natsu and glanced over it. Sting appeared behind her, peeking over her shoulder and shaking his head.

“This is why I play the drums,” he muttered. “No music.”

Sylvie started humming under her breath, fingers following the hand-drawn staffs and notes that Gray had scribbled down.

“C’mere,” she said, gesturing for Natsu to grab his guitar and come sit next to the piano. She sat down and hovered her fingers over the keys, tapping out a few wrong notes before falling into a rhythm. She played the first few lines twice, then turned to Natsu, who closed his eyes and started picking it out on the guitar.

“How do you do that?” Sting asked, leaning against the piano and watching Natsu’s fingers dance over the strings as he corrected himself.

Natsu shrugged. “It just sounds right,” he said. He plucked out the melody a few more times, then nodded for Sylvie to keep going.

Half an hour and some creative flourishes later, Natsu was able to play the song from memory. He switched over to the electric guitar, fiddling with the setting on the amp before running through it again.

“I’m pretty sure this was supposed to be a classical piece,” Sylvie said, kicking her feet up on a chair and twirling a strand of purple hair around her finger. Natsu grinned at her, running through a quick series of notes and ending on a loud chord.

“It’s more fun like this,” Natsu argued, looking up at Sylvie and Sting. “Now all it needs is some drums and bass.”

~*~*~ 

Gray sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. The comptuer screen was making his head hurt, and part of him desperately wanted a nap. He wished Natsu were home.

As if reading his thoughts, a text popped up on his phone.

hey snowflake, hows work? u wanna come for super? ryos is maknig that pasta u like. but if u dont wanna be with ppl i can come home. love u. <3

Gray smiled, tapping his fingers against the phone screen as he contemplated the question. He glanced out the window – it was still light out, and the drive to Ryos and Sting’s place would take him along the beach. And as much as he felt like curling up under the blankets right now, spending time with friends was probably a better idea.

The sun was just setting as Gray drove along the beach, soft layers of gold and pink slowly slipping behind the curve of the park behind him. It helped calm Gray’s nerves, and by the time he got to Ryos and Sting’s place, he was already feeling better.

“Hey, you,” Ryos said as he opened the door. He examined Gray’s face, then pulled him into a hug. “Bad day?”

Gray shrugged, returning the embrace and then leaning back to kick off his shoes. He resisted the urge to repeat the usual just tired, and instead said, “sorta.”

“Well, I made linguine,” Ryos said, motioning for Gray to follow him into the kitchen. “They’ve been downstairs all afternoon, I haven’t seen them since they got here. You want something to drink?” He opened the fridge and gestured to the bottles of beer in the door.

Gray shook his head. “Not supposed to drink with the new meds,” he said, settling down at the kitchen table and fiddling with the napkin on his plate.

“Are they helping at all?” Ryos asked, grabbing the water jug from the fridge and setting it on the table.

“I dunno.” Gray shrugged. “It’s only been a week, it’s hard to tell. I still feel weird about taking them, which is dumb because Natsu’s been on meds for forever.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryos said, sitting down across from Gray. “I hope they help.”

“Me too,” Gray said softly.

The door to the basement opened and Natsu popped his head out, smiling when he saw Gray.

“Hey, handsome,” he said, moving over and kissing Gray’s head. “I knew you wouldn’t say no to pasta.”

Dinner was comfortable and familiar, and Gray felt some of the melancholy slip away as they ate and traded stories back and forth. Sylvie talked animatedly about her mechanical engineering program, and Natsu teased her about the guy she was dating.

“You still think kissing is gross?” he asked, laughing. Sylvie rolled her eyes at him, sticking out her tongue.

“You know I do,” she said, grabbing another slice of garlic toast. “And so does he.”

“Have Ur and Xavier met him yet?” Gray asked around a mouthful of salad. Sylvie shook her head.

“I was actually thinking of bringing him for brunch on Sunday,” she said. “I just hope papa doesn’t embarrass me.” When Sting raised his eyebrows at her, she elaborated. “He wore socks with sandals to Félix’s graduation last week.”

“The horror,” Ryos mumbled from behind his wine glass.

“It was atrocious,” Sylvie muttered.

~*~*~

After dinner, Natsu grabbed Gray’s hand and pulled him toward the basement.

“C’mere,” he said, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Gray frowned, but followed Natsu down the stairs into the practice space they’d set up. Natsu and Gray had spent a weekend helping Ryos and Sting soundproof and paint it, and they kept all of their instruments there.

“Go sit,” Natsu said, nudging Gray toward the couch. Ryos sat down as well, kicking his legs up over Gray’s lap and watching as Sting settled down behind the drums. Natsu grabbed his guitar and fiddled with the amp a bit, while Sylvie did the same with her bass.

“What song is it?” Gray asked, tipping his head back against the couch cushions.

“Surprise,” was all Natsu said. He did some quick tuning, then settled down on the stool and began to play.

Gray watched, fascinated, as Natsu’s fingers flew across the fret, dancing through a ridiculous progression of notes that ended in a loud chord. It was quickly followed by Sylvie and Sting joining in.

The song was bright, energy flowing through the notes, and Gray tapped his fingers against Ryos’ legs to the beat. They were almost thirty seconds into the song when Gray realized it was his music.

“I... wrote this,” he said softly, and Ryos raised an eyebrow at him. “H-how...”

Natsu’s eyes were closed now, and Gray knew he was playing from memory, fingers picking out each note. Natsu had described it to Gray once as colors, splashes of light that jumped out at him and dragged his fingers to the right places.

Gray’s face softened as he watched, memories surfacing of Natsu at seventeen, curled up in the corner of the youth center with his acoustic guitar, hair falling in his face while he played. He was always so gentle with his instruments, even when he was dancing riffs down the fret of the electric guitar. Gray thought of those hands on him, tracing circles on his arms, curling in his hair.

Natsu was gorgeous, and Gray was so, so lucky.

The song ended on a flourish, and Natsu bit his lip ring as he looked up at Gray while the final chord rang in the air. Gray realized his cheeks were wet and he wiped them quickly.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Natsu said softly as he set down the guitar and moved to the couch, crouching down in front of Gray and running his hands up and down Gray’s thighs. Ryos slipped out of the way, giving Gray and Natsu some space.

“You stole my notes,” Gray said softly, reaching out and brushing Natsu’s bangs out of his eyes.

“I did,” Natsu said, sliding onto the couch next to Gray. He kissed Gray’s cheek, then rested his head on Gray’s shoulder. “Did you like it?”

“Of course I did,” Gray whispered, sliding his fingers between Natsu’s and squeezing his hand tightly. “You’re amazing.” He sniffed, looking up at the other three, who were all pretending not to look. “Thank you,” he said, loud enough for Sting and Sylvie to know he was talking to them as well.

“It was fun,” Sylvie said, plopping down on Gray’s other side and snuggling up next to him. Gray sighed, leaning his head against hers and feeling an overwhelming sense of nostalgia for the little girl who used to climb into his lap and demand he read to her. “But I told Uncle Natsu it was supposed to be a classical piece.”

Gray snorted. “I don’t think he’d play classical music if you paid him,” he said, and Natsu nodded in agreement. “And it sounded good.” Hearing Natsu’s interpretation of his notes was... Gray couldn’t think of a word to describe it.

“Well, you know what that means,” Natsu said, bringing Gray’s hand to his lips and kissing it. Gray raised an eyebrow at him, and Natsu smiled. “You’re just gonna have to write more music for us.”