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alohajun · 2 years

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♡ GOLDFISH ATTENTION SPAN — JANG YUBIN

yubin x gn!reader | wc : 1.3k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, boarding school au, tooth-rotting fluff, petnames (love, sweetpea), mentions of medicine, tutor to bestie to lover, essays and math x_x, a kiss scene (omg scandalous ik) | request : hey loki! i know you mainly write for trsr and enha, i was wondering if you could write a fluffy tutor to lovers fic for yubin from mirae? if not, that’s perfectly fine <3 @yogurteume

“hi, i’m y/n. thanks for offering to tutor me. i really hope it’s no trouble.”

you bowed politely as the tall male entered your dorm, greeting you with a cute smile which made your heart skip a beat — or maybe two.

“i’m jang yubin, and it’s no trouble, really! anything for a classmate.” he waved off your thanks, taking a seat as he prepared his things. “miss kwon says you have the potential to get a scholarship to yonsei university.”

“oh? did she?”

“she’s said the same thing to me, too. let’s study hard and get into yonsei together!”

a smile adorned your face at the male’s words, finding his enthusiasm totally contagious. you always had issues with focusing, resulting in you zoning out during lessons, and thus, missing out on the work. all the student tutors your teacher recommended were never this excited to work with you, and it made you think if things with this tutor would be any different.

will you give up on me halfway, just like the others, jang yubin?

it was one week of tutoring you, and jang yubin was still showing up for your lessons. there wasn’t much progress, but yubin would not give up that easily.

“this is pointless. drafting a ten-thousand-word essay is pointless. i can’t deal with this now … or ever. i’ll just become a stri–” you whined, surprised when yubin threw himself against you, slapping his hand over your mouth as he widened his eyes in horror.

“not in the library, y/n! have a filter, would you?!” he scolded, playfully flicking your forehead. “you can do this, okay? trust me.” yubin slowly took his hand away from your mouth, giving you an encouraging smile as he nodded.

you returned the smile. “i trust you. thanks for helping me out, yubin-ah,” you thanked, linking your arms with his as you looked over the books on the table. “if i’m gonna pass this test, it’s gonna be because of you.”

“we haven’t started studying yet, y/n.” he chuckled, shaking his head. “let’s just go through the work today and see what areas you don’t understand, okay?” yubin smiled, ruffling your hair at the way you looked at him. “and if you understand the basics well, i’ll let you use my pretty colored pens you like to make your notes,” he explained, earning a grin from you.

“yes, score! let’s get started!”

yubin traced the words with his pencil. “yep, so when the positive moves to the other side like this, it becomes a negative. but if it just moves within, it remains positive,” he explained, looking at you to make sure you were listening.

he snickered at the way you were leaning your head on your hand, eyes fluttered close. if there was one thing he learnt within the two weeks of tutoring you, it was that you had the attention span of a goldfish — and you could sleep anywhere at any time.

and just like he did normally, yubin reached out to pat your head, running his fingers through your hair to wake you up. you sheepishly smiled as your eyes opened, meeting yubin’s kind gaze and apologizing softly before rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“are you getting enough sleep, y/n?” he inquired, a tinge of worry clear in his tone as he looked at you. “you’ve been falling asleep during our lessons a lot these days.”

your brows furrowed, the question taking you off guard. your tutors rarely cared about you — only scolding you when you fell asleep during lessons before complaining to your teacher and giving up.

“i’ve been getting the night shifts at work, and the early morning classes don’t help, so i’m struggling a little,” you replied, looking at your book when you felt yubin’s eyes on you. “nothing big, though!” you waved it off, tracing random numbers as you pretended to study.

“do you have work today, too?” yubin inquired, his smile never fading, even for a second. “you have an exam tomorrow, you know? we can’t have my y/n falling asleep in the middle of their exam.” he laughed, avoiding the playful punch you threw his way.

“i do. in three hours, actually.”

“i’ll cover your shift for you. just stay home and study.”

your eyes widened at his words, shaking your head vigorously as you declined his offer. “no, no. it’s completely fine!” you waved your hands. “i won’t fall asleep. i’ll down three espressos as soon as i wake up. you don’t have to do that.”

“i wasn’t offering, love.” yubin chuckled, poking the side of your head. “i was telling you. i will cover your shift so you can study and get some rest before the exam.” despite the smile on his face, his strict tone told you there was no arguing with him.

“alright, alright.” you surrendered, nudging the male when he smiled victoriously. “thank you, yubin-ah. i owe you one.” you leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek as a token of gratitude.

“if that’s your way of thanking me, i would’ve taken up your shifts two weeks ago.”

“y/n … sweet pea, when was the last time you left your desk?” a very concerned yubin would ask when he came to see you after coming back.

your assignment was due in a week, and yubin was an absolute angel in helping you out through every step. so when the weekend came where he was supposed to visit his parents, you urged him to focus on his family for the two days, letting him know you could handle the work — after all, you had a lot of time.

well, unluckily for you, the two days without yubin were when everything went downhill.

your teacher sent everyone an email stating they were collecting the assignments after the weekend, before also mentioning a few more pointers that needed to be included in order to get a passing grade on your assignment.

but of course, you being you, didn’t want to interrupt yubin’s weekend with his family, so you took up everything yourself, pulling constant all-nighters to work on the assignment that was due the next day.

“i don’t know. you should ask miss kwon,” you grumbled under your breath, typing furiously on your laptop. “she’s the reason i’m stuck at my desk, anyway.”

yubin sighed, noting the red splotches on your wrist, realizing you were forcing yourself to stay awake by pinching yourself. his gaze darted towards the orange medicine container and the countless power drinks that littered the floor.

“y/n, take a break now. i’m here, right? let’s just rest for an hour.”

you shook your head, scoffing as the thought of resting sounded ridiculous to you. “no, i can’t just ‘rest’, yubin! my teacher thought it was logical to pull back a deadline by a week and add even more pointers. i need to do well if i have to get into yonsei with you, and i know i’m lacking but–” you blabbered, anxious about the deadline that was approaching with each passing minute.

before you could register it, yubin held your face between his hands, pulling you closer as he softly placed a kiss on your lips. the kiss took you by surprise, but you couldn't help but chase his lips as he pulled away. your eyes were wide as yubin looked at you with a nervous smile, trying to read your expressions.

“i’ll stay up with you and help you with the assignment.” he promised, softly grasping your hands, his smile widening when you didn’t deny his touch. “just take a break for an hour, that’s all.”

“y-you are just gonna act all normal with me?” you avoided his gaze, pretending to be annoyed with the way the male kept smiling at you. “after what you just did?”

yubin grinned, pulling on your hands so your face was closer to his. “why? do you want more of that?” he asked, laughing when you pushed him away. “i didn’t want to do it like this, but i really like you, y/n.”

“i really like you too, yubin. and i’ve never been more thankful for my goldfish attention span since i met you because of it.”

#[📝] works #kflixnet #ficscafe #mirae imagines #mirae yubin #yubin imagines #yubin scenarios #jang yubin imagines #jang yubin x reader #jang yubin drabbles #mirae drabbles #yubin fluff #yubin angst #mirae #mirae scenarios #jang yubin #yubin #mirae kpop #mirae reactions

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miraculousmultifan · 8 months

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The months following Steve's fight with Billy and the excursion through the Mind Flayer’s tunnels found Steve at a bit of a loss. The animosity between him and Hargrove had only grown exponentially, but it didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Sure, Hargrove sucked ass, and he had definitely taken over as the newest reigning douchebag, but that kind of stuff just didn’t matter to Steve anymore.

So at school, he found himself sitting with Nancy and Jonathan during lunch. It was a bit awkward considering Nancy and Jon were dating, but he didn’t exactly have any other friends, and he really didn't want to sit alone.

It was early February, and Steve was picking at his cafeteria food, barely listening to the conversation Nancy and Jonathan were having. He was lost in his own thoughts, staring into space blankly.

Across the cafeteria, Eddie Munson was jumping onto a table and taunting several different cliques as he went on a long monologue about society and social norms that most students tended to tune out. Steve watched him with a small smile, pushing his food around his tray. Then, Eddie was throwing barbs at Hargrove, Tommy H, and Carol. Steve winced slightly, knowing the words probably applied to him too, but he couldn't help feeling that Eddie wasn’t exactly saying anything untrue about them.

Before he could tear his attention away, Eddie was turning to face him. Steve's eyes widened. He hadn't even said anything! He’d been laying low ever since their last run-in with the Upside Down, just trying to graduate. So why was Eddie putting his attention on him now?

Eddie jumped down from the table and sauntered over to where Steve was sitting, throwing a leg over the bench to straddle the spot next to him. “Harrington.”

Now that Eddie was so close, Steve could see a slight red tint to his eyes, and he relaxed a little. He was just high.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve replied, giving him a weak smile in response.

Most of the attention on Eddie had dispersed, but Steve could still feel the piercing gaze of Hargrove on the side of his face. That jackass just would not leave him alone, even if he was trying to avoid altercations for Max's sake.

Eddie leaned an elbow on the table to hold his head up with his hand. “How's the fall from grace treating you, my liege?”

Steve blinked. “Huh?”

Jonathan leaned over from where he was chatting with Nancy. “He’s calling you a king. Asking about how you're doing after everyone dropped you for Billy.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie smirked. “With more dramatic flair than that, but yeah, essentially.”

“Oh.” Steve floundered, looking between Nancy and Jon as he tried to think of an answer. “Well, it’s been nice not having as much attention, I guess. Nothing all that interesting has happened to me.”

Nancy hid a snort behind her hand, turning to bury her face into Jonathan’s shoulder. Eddie raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t comment on her reaction.

“Surely the life of a king has to have some frivolities. Raging parties, swooning ladies, the like…”

Steve scrunched his nose. “Nah, man. My parents cut off my allowance after my last concussion, so I don’t exactly have the funds for that kind of thing anymore.” He didn’t know why he was confiding that kind of information in Eddie, but it wasn’t like he cared that much about what people thought of him anymore. Eddie could spread it around if he really wanted to. “I just babysit Nancy and Jon’s little brothers and their friends. I promise it’s nothing interesting.”

Smirking, Eddie tilted his head to the side. “I'm sure you could make anything interesting, Harrington. Especially looking like that.”

Steve blushed bright red from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck. Oh god. Was Eddie flirting with him? “Oh. Um, thank you! I'm sure you're pretty interesting too.”

That seemed to snap Eddie out of whatever weird flirty persona he had let settle over him. “Right. Good talk. I'm gonna go now. Have a good lunch, Steve.”

And then Eddie was gone, back to his table as he ranted at his friends with increasingly frantic gestures. Steve stared after him for a bit, biting his lip and trying to make sense of the feelings stirring in his chest. On the other side of the table, Nancy let out a pointed cough with a smug smirk.

“So…” She started. “Wanna tell us what that was all about?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “You witnessed the exact same thing that I did, Nance. I don't have any insider information.”

Nancy giggled. “No, not that. I’m talking about how you blushed like a little schoolgirl when Eddie called you interesting. You wanna tell us about it?”

Shooting another look at Eddie’s table, Steve started to reply before he noticed that some of Eddie’s friends were looking at him. His eyes widened and he whipped back around. “I have no clue what you're talking about. Jon, back me up here.”

“Sorry, dude.” Jonathan winced with a sheepish shrug. “You were pretty red. I mean he did call you hot, so I guess I get it…”

Steve sighed and let his head drop to the table. “I really don’t appreciate the psychoanalysis, Nance. He came over here, talked to us, called the way I look interesting, and left. Sure, I may have gotten a little red, but he was leaning really close.”

Smirking, Nancy leaned over the table to flick the back of Steve’s head. “You’re wrong about one thing. He didn’t come over to talk to us. He only talked to you. I think he finds you more than just interesting.”

Standing up from the table abruptly, Steve shook his head. “We’re not talking about this. It’s not like it matters that much anyway. He was probably just trying to mess with me. I’ll see you guys later.” Steve grabbed his tray and walked off, trying and failing to stop himself from sneaking a glance at Eddie’s table.

Much to Steve’s surprise, Eddie was looking right back at him. When their eyes met, he smirked and waggled his fingers at Steve in a wave. Steve blushed, his eyes wide, and he stumbled, almost bumping into another student in the process.

#mira writes #post-season 2 #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie x steve #drabble #fanfic #fanfiction #st

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pinkmirth · 10 months

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begging you for more cowboy reiner smut 🧎🏾‍♀️

i’m absolutely loving the way y’all adore cowboy rei-rei as much as i do! 😩 im currently working on lengthier fics/requests for him, but im gonna spew out some of the dirty lil thoughts i have in the meantime:

this farmboy is a nasty man, i tell you! cowboy!reiner can, and will, take you at any given time of day. to him, every location on this barn is a suitable place to fuck. sometimes he’ll dick you down near the hay bales, or six-nine with you in the little cottage that he hand-built last summer; hell, he’ll even raw-dog you in the goddamn kitchen on his momma’s favorite countertop— he doesn’t care. he’s always this close to bending you over the counter, pulling down his custom denim jeans and making a complete and total mess out of you. though the rounds are satisfying, they usually go by fast ‘cause he knows he’s got chores to get back to afterwards. that’s why he fucks you like it’s the end of the world— no time to waste when you need to feed the cattle by 3pm, right? rei-rei’s a feen for quickies, okay! then later on, when the day’s work is done and he finally has time to himself, he’ll use the opportunity to handle you thoroughly, and do all the things he didn’t have the time for earlier. by the next morning, you’re still feeling the linger of him on your body. the dull ache around your hips reminds you of the countless positions he folded you into, all his dirty words . . . quite a nasty man, indeed!

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thedomesticanthropologist · 4 months

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"You hide it from him,"

Halsins voice. Deep, warm. Mira looked up from where she had been gazing sightlessly into the fire before her.

"I'm sorry, Halsin, I was miles away. What was that?" She asked quietly, tone soft yet curious. The large druid stood a respectful distance away, but now gestured with a single hand to indicate if he could sit. Mira nodded.

"Forgive me for saying so, but I feel we are on fair enough terms with each other to ask. When Astarion is not looking, you cease to hide that sad expression of yours. Why not let him see it?"

In a bold but telegraphed move, Halsin slowly raised a large, calloused hand to her cheek. When she did not reject this, he gently thumbed her cheekbone, eyes searching her face for any sign of disquiet at this new contact between them.

"Hm... you're forgiven," the cleric murmured, leaning into the touch. The moment she did so, Halsin breathed in sharply, his movements stuttering. He swallowed audibly, breaking contact between them in the same slow and measured way that he had initiated it. Mira neither chased the touch nor did she question its end, returning her gaze to the fire in the space of the comfortable pause between them.

"He has enough going on." She answered after a few moments.

"We are none of us without our troubles. To unburden oneself with a loved one is to have such pains lifted, even in small measure. Do you think him unable to carry you, as you carry him?" The low rumble of his voice was so soothing. Mira smirked, blowing out a short breath as she shook her head.

"No. It's not that. I think I like it, keeping him believing that I'm..." she waved a hand.

"You are incredible, Mira. A blind man could see it."

"You flatter me."

"You underestimate yourself."

"Touché."

The fire crackled, small pockets of sap popping as they came to a boil from the heat. It smelled delightful, even if the freshness of the wood caused extra smoke to raise towards the sky. Thankfully, there was no wind to blow it to their faces.

"There, that's the look." He rumbled, "That one right there. The one that says you're hurting. I hope I do not overstep in saying that I ache to see it."

"... you're not overstepping. I don't think I have an answer for you, though. I think I just got used to putting on a brave face, honestly." She shrugged, posture tightening as she wrapped her arms around knees now drawn up towards her chest.

"You need not be brave with me." The druid offered, hand presented in the space between them. Palm up, resting on the ground. An offer.

Still gazing at the fire, Mira reached over to give that warm, large hand a single squeeze. Then she let go, returning to herself.

"... I know."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Authors note: reblogs, comments and replies are appreciated!

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion romance #halsin #halsin the druid #halsin x tav #halsin x tav x astarion #if you squint #mira the cleric #tales of mira #hurt/comfort #fluff fanfic #drabbles #shorts

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devilish-mirage · 2 years

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Scrunchie

Soft!Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Warnings; none just light sexual innuendos

Summary; Your hair is distracting you but you're glad someone has noticed it too.

Word count; 500+

A/n; I need more soft!Jake in my life and I'm taking matters into my own hands.

@friendlyneighbourhood-parker thank you for translating the Spanish sentences, bebé! <3

Masterlist

You huffed in annoyance as your hair covered your face yet again, you really thought that slipping them behind your ears would prevent them from falling but no, that's not the case at all.

You groaned when you look at your already covered with flour hand. You wanted to surprise your boyfriends with a sweet breakfast in bed, they have been taking good care of you these past few months and you really wanted to do something nice for them.

So why not bake them a muffin? It's easy right? Wrong. It was way more complicated than the one you saw on the internet.

Suddenly you felt someone wrapped their arms around you, the frown on your face left when you felt them kiss the back of your neck, while murmuring a small "Buenos días, mi amor." (good morning, my love) on your skin.

"Good morning, Papi."

The smile on your face grew wider when you felt him bite your nape, biting your lips as you sway your hips and grind on his crotch.

He softly groaned beside your ears, gripping your waist tight to prevent you from moving them.

"Stop teasing me so early in the morning, cariño." (darling)

You shrugged your shoulders, that stupid smile is still on your face.

"It's fun."

"For you."

You hum at him, making Jake closed his eyes with a small smile adorned his face. He takes a deep breath as he held you close.

"You're so warm,"

"I know."

"You smell sweet."

"It's the dough."

"No, it's you, mi bebé." (my baby)

"I haven't showered yet though?"

"Doesn't fucking matter."

He kissed your nape again, this time longer than the last and you dreamily sigh in response, you can get used to mornings like these but the way he kissed that spot slowly make your mind wondered elsewhere.

"Stop distracting me."

You lightly elbowed his stomach, making him playfully groan.

"How can you wound me, an invisible knight of the night?" You let out a snort in response and he smiled wider at the noise.

"Well, it seems this invisible knight of the night isn't that invisible after all."

You looked back at him and threw him a wink before continuing to mixed the dough, huffing your hair away every once in a while to see better.

Then suddenly you felt his hands moved to your hair, tidying them and holding them in place.

"I have a scrunchie, you know?"

"Nah, I'll hold it for you, bebé." (baby)

You can't fight the smile from forming on your face at the gesture.

Jake stared at the back of your head and smile softly, lowering himself to kiss your nape again. "te amo muchísimo, tu iluminas mis días." (I love you so much, you light up my days)

"And I love you too, my Shadow Knight." he grinned on your skin in response.

Yeah, waking up with you and just standing in the kitchen while he held you and making breakfast together is a must from now on.

Jake would make sure of it.

#mira writes shts #drabble bubble #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x you #moon knight au #moon knight imagines #FLUFF #soft!jake

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nessinborderland · 1 year

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ive been in a mira kano mood recently so… maybe a mira drabble? with a sick reader that she’s taking care of?

This was such a nice thing to write, got me in my feelings, thank you 🥹💖

Also I wrote this in like 10 minutes so be kind lol

Mira could hear you coughing even before she entered your shared room. You had been like this for almost a week now, and it was starting to scare her. Even if you weren’t in the Borderlands, the feverish and weak state you were in was still a cause for concern. How could she be sure that you wouldn’t die in some random game?

“Hey, sweetheart,” she greeted, a soft smile on her lips as she approached your side of the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

You coughed in response, opening your eyes to send her a tired smile. Mira couldn’t stop herself from noticing how sick you looked, from your clammy skin to your bloodshot eyes and runny nose. It pained her to see you in such a state.

“M’fine,” you muttered, moving to sit up against the pillows as you noticed the bowl of soup in her hands. “Is that chicken soup?”

“Your favorite,” Mira answered as she set the steaming bowl on the bedside table before helping you recline comfortably against your pillows.

“Too bad I can’t taste it,” you said with a weak chuckle as you leaned back, eyes closing and shoulders sagging like that simple movement was a herculean task.

“You still need to eat.”

Mira grabbed the bowl again, blowing a little on it before bringing a spoonful of soup to your waiting mouth. You swallowed the warm broth, wincing as it hurt your sore throat. For a few minutes, you just enjoyed each other’s presence as you ate, your hand on Mira’s thigh as she fed you until the bowl was empty.

“You know, I-” you murmured, followed by a cough that shook your whole body. Mira brushed your back until you stopped, handing you a glass of water that you swallowed like you hadn’t had a drink in months. Then you looked her in the eyes, sighing as you started again, “It’s at times like this that I miss home.”

Mira tried to ignore the pain that those words caused her. You had stayed in the Borderlands for her, and she was well aware of that. But when you said those words, in circumstances like this… that’s when she wished she could change things.

“Being with you is enough, but… I miss our apartment. I miss cooking for you, and I miss our plants, and I miss our cat and our routine and I just…” you were rambling now. Mira said nothing, just listening as you went on and on down memory lane. Then you paused, whispering “…I miss our life together as it was,” before falling asleep.

“I miss it too,” Mira whispered as she combed your sweaty hair out of your forehead before pressing a kiss against your hot skin. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

#alice in borderland fanfic #ima wa no kuni no alice #mira kano #mira x reader #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #aib drabble

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mirahuyooo · 1 year

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hi ate congrats! pa-request ng 003 with taehyung? tapos phantom of the opera au kung kaya. thanks! <33

003. "Love me. I'm cold." + kim taehyung

— Kim Taeyung always hated the cold.

word count: 830 contents: ANGST, loosely based on Phantom of the Opera (both movie and novel), childhood friend!Jeon Jungkook to the rescue, (Y/N) developed a bit of a Stockholm Syndrome for a moment yikes, YOU ARE OF AGE (unlike Christine 😭) toxic, possessive behavior, major character death, Yandere AU pairing: kim taehyung x reader

[masterlist] | check out more of [Four Years with Mira]!

A/N: Thank you so much!~ ✋😭💖💓💕 I’m so glad you joined! 🥳 I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t think of making “Love me. I’m cold.” into an ANGSTY yandere abomination and I also never fully watched Phantom of the Opera until this, but I gOTTA DELIVER!! Sana nagustuhan mo AAAAAAA

P.S. Repeat after me, lovelies. NO YANDERES IRL. THIS IS FICTION.

Time and fate are an unfathomable pair in how much they've changed life for you in the past months.

How, in spite of having gone your separate ways, you're once again entangled with a familiar face from your childhood.

How, in spite of having been nothing but a background piece to the magnificent opera house for years, you're suddenly thrust into the limelight.

How, in spite of having fallen for the angel of music, you're now faced with the fact that he had been a demon all along.

"Taehyung, please!"

Catacombs ran deep beneath the city, labyrinthine halls that drove you mad as you ran through them in a desperate search for familiar faces. The white gown you had worn for the play was now tattered, sodden with the cistern's murky waters and smudged with dirt, and grime—and yet, that doesn't stop you from running towards the phantom and the vicomte as soon as you saw them.

After having enough of the people that got in his way, Taehyung hunted the derelict halls beneath the opera house for Jeon Jungkook, your childhood friend, and now here they were. The two of them were locked in a battle, and though Jungkook was of a larger build than him, Taehyung seemed to have exhausted him enough for him to be winning over the young vicomte.

"Taehyung!" your voice shakes as you call out his name immediately.

Through the mask that covers his face, there's an immediate shift in his eyes, stone cold, murderous gaze becoming soft at the sight of you. "Enough of this. I beg of you," you beseech him, such words instantly taking away the fondness and revealing a look of betrayal and rage.

"You're mine!" he childishly bellowed, shaking just as much as he pressed down on Jungkook yet again. "Haven't I made that clear enough?!"

The pain in his voice twists your heart, just as much as his heinous deeds twist your stomach. Murder, sabotage, manipulation—he had done all of it for your sake, he told you. If so, then perhaps you can coax him out of this. "Let go of him and I'll go with you," you strike a deal with the devil, effectively tempting him into loosening his grip on the vicomte.

"(Y/N), n—"

Jungkook's protest is cut off by a groan of pain as Taehyung's fist meets with his jaw, the clatter of swords falling along with him. In an instant, the masked phantom seizes your face, his hold firm yet gentle. "You will marry me," Taehyung decidedly declares, "and you'll never b—"

A horrified gasp leaves you as you catch sight of a glinting steel poke through Taehyung's abdomen. He, too, reels with the pain coursing through his very being.

Blood—blood is coming out of him fast.

Behind the phantom, Jungkook shakes as he withdraws the blade. He's never killed anyone before. "She's not yours or mine," the young vicomte gritted through his teeth, "but I'll never let her be damned to the likes of you."

The rage that roars through the phantom is immediate. So close, yet he had been foolish. He should've ended the basta—

A gentle hand squeezing his is the water that douses the fire burning within him. Your eyes meet and he sees the exhaustion in your eyes, the sparkle he had fallen for no longer there. There's a resounding defeat that flashes in Taehyung's eyes as he staggers forth and surrenders himself into your arms, his body falling from your weak hold and onto the floor.

You and Jungkook share a glance, both unsure of what to do. Had Taehyung finally realized his faults and regrets so close to death's door?

Desperate for the last of your affection, Taehyung's hand clutches your gown. "Love me," his words were a benediction to you, his muse and goddess, as they always were. "I'm cold."

Kim Taehyung always hated the cold, but the darkness of the crypts were all he had, and he could never bring himself to the warmth of fire—the very thing that left half of his face and body scarred after an unfortunate incident years ago.

You oblige, for the sake of what good he had done in your life, for the sake of that poor, unfortunate soul who craved for love he went mad. Fingers trembling from the cold and from the rush of it all, you unmask Taehyung for the last time, in spite of the weak protest he tries to stop you with.

You gently caress his cheek, the one of marred flesh as you let him settle on your lap. A tear falls from your cheek, though you're not really sure why—you don't love him, not after what he's done. It's pity, perhaps.

And so, it is with pity you press a soft, parting kiss onto his forehead, one the dying man relishes. "Tell the world I've died of love," he whispers to you as you pull away, his dying breath only ever taken for his beloved songbird.

Kim Taehyung always hated the cold.

Still, he blissfully closed his eyes. At the very least, in the cold of the night, in the darkness beneath the city, your warmth surrounds him before death's embrace ever could.

#happy 4 years to me writing shit <3 #BTS drabbles #bts au #bts phantom of the opera au #bts yandere au #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts writing #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung drabbles #kim taehyung imagines #bts v x reader #bts v drabbles #you ask mira answers 💖

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crispysnake · 1 year

Note

their breath hitching whenever the other gets a little closer for vaxleth plssss

HI WALT <3 (I'm sorry this took actual ages, I tried to write this in 3 different aus before settling on SAD)

Gods she's tired. Keyleth can't remember the last time she was this exhausted. But the last thing on her mind is resting, she has so much to do, too much work to finish and start, her lungs haven't gotten a real breath in days, too many people to lead, too many nightmares plaguing her mind everytime things get too slow, better to think of everything all at once then to deal with a loud, lonely mind.

No she doesn't want to rest, but still she finds herself taking a moment, sitting on the top of a tall barren hill, looking over a grove of cherry blossom trees, surronded by tall grass that she wishes was tall enough to hide her. Again she doesn't want to rest, but she worries if she tries to stand and walk home, her legs will give out under her. the last thing she wants to do is draw that attention.

Keyleth hears rustling behind her and her heart still flutters a bit, her breath still catches as she turns her head, almost smiling till realizing what she was really looking at. a lone raven.

Somehow she still forgets. She feels that presence behind her and there is always that twinge of hope, hope that it's him. but it's not. but it is? It has his eyes, far too expressive for a normal bird. Her mind has gone quiet. she cannot even hear the trees rustling in the wind anymore, only her own unsteady breathing.

Keyleth pulls her knees to her chest and rests her chin on her folded arms, the raven is watching her over the grass, and she quiets to not scare him off.

The raven hops closer to her, tilting his head, Keyleth doesn't realize her hand is shaking until she reaches it out, gently scritching its chest, the raven caws loud enough to make her flinch, almost enough to make her smile. she let's her legs unfold and straighten, and holds her breath when it hops onto her thigh, staring at her intently, as if trying to communicate by just looking at her, she really could recognize those eyes anywhere. her mind is peacefully quiet for the first time in ages. she can breath again.

The raven caws again before taking off. she listens to the flapping of its wings before he seems to disappear from existence again. She breathes deeply in, then out.

It takes a while before she can gather the strength to stand up. A part of her resents the ways those eyes still quiet every haunting thought in her head. But regardless, she can breath just a little bit easier now.

#Ive had half of this in my drafts since tuesday and after u slapping me repeatedly with vaxleth grief I raced to finish it #I hope u enjoy tysm for the ask :')#vaxleth #vaxleth fic #mira writes #critical role #cr fic #vox machina #vox machina fic #((ALSO THE INTERCHANGING BETWEEN CALLING THE RAVEN 'it' AND 'him' ARE INTENTIONAL I PROMISE))#also the way this contrasts the last drabble😭

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iaf · 1 year

Text

Okay, but think about Mira giving Vanessa a ride on her moped.

#thinking abt my favorite sapphic rarepair #the hollow #the hollow netflix #the hollow vanessa #the hollow mira #vanira #drawing idea #or maybe drabble idea??#idk but i want to come back to this #iaf.text

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toukasspouse · 10 months

Note

How did Mira and Touka meet each other?

Already asking about the ship? Typical R3d. (I kid, thank you for the question.)

So, living as a half-ghoul, your first priority would be to check out your location to spot safe and dangerous zones (in this case, safest and least safest wards, territories and who runs them, the counter measures already in place for ghouls), and I believe they'd hear of Anteiku due to how irregular it is.

Insert them coming to Anteiku to investigate the area, and yes, it is irregular. They certainly weren't expecting such a casual business area with ghouls not only performing services for humans but also allowing space for other ghouls who cannot hunt. I would imagine that Mira would have met Touka there for the first time, but obviously, on a more professional basis as a regular customer.

As for how they became friends... That will be in due time. :)

#thus spoke micah #toumira #touka kirishima x oc #tokyo ghoul oc #yes I'm calling the ship toumira #shhhh #more will be explained in time #maybe i'll write something if asked to write an actual drabble or something #mira walsh

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frickingnerd · 10 months

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all the things i can't say

pairing: mira x gn!reader

summary: mira is about to go on her first date with eric and she wants your help preparing for it

"you want me to help you prepare the date with the ice cream boy?"

you had raised an eyebrow, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you looked at mira. you had heard about the employee from the ice cream shop a ton in the last few weeks and it seemed like the two of them were finally going out on a date now.

"his name is eric and yes! you're acting like this is unreasonable for me to ask for…"

it wasn't unreasonable, but you really didn't want to be the person to help mira with her date. not when you had a thing for her for months now.

"i just think maybe someone else would be better at helping you with this…"

you sighed, which confused mira a bit.

"and why can't you do it?"

you hesitated. was this really the moment to tell her you liked her? it should have been. now was your last chance to tell her, before she started dating the ice cream boy. but you also wanted mira to be happy and if she wanted him, then you should help her with it…

"fine, i'll do it…" you gave in. "but just this once!"

#zero escape zero time dilemma #zero escape #zero escape ztd #zero time dilemma #ze: ztd #ztd mira x reader #ztd mira x you #mira x reader #ztd #ztd mira #mira ztd #mira ztd x reader #x reader #fluff #drabble #oneshot #mira x eric #eric x mira #angst

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miraculousmultifan · 6 months

Text

would you love me if i was a lobster?

hi!! its been a while since ive done one of these, but inspiration struck hard for this one. so this little drabble was written for the November 10th STWG daily prompt: "I can explain!" ~~~

When Steve walked into the grocery store looking for ingredients to cook himself another dinner by himself, he really expected to just be in and out. Grab a couple things and go.

The problem arrived when he stepped into the fish section. He was just going to grab a filet of salmon and be on his merry way, but no. There was a man dressed like a lobster standing in his way. He had his face pressed up against the glass of the lobster tank, and he kept muttering things that Steve only caught short snippets of.

“I’ll… free… soon.”

“... claws… your master!”

Sighing deeply, Steve tried to maneuver around the guy, but it was like he suddenly developed a sixth sense for knowing when people were approaching him. Next thing he knew, the guy was whirling around to face him with an angry expression, only to flounder when he made eye contact with Steve.

He looked back and forth between the lobster tank and Steve like he was trying to figure out whether he should abandon… whatever he was doing and run away to avoid talking to Steve, or stay and… continue fogging up the glass with his warm breath.

Hey, now that Steve was paying more attention, the guy kind of looked like… Eddie Munson?

“Munson?” Steve asked and squinted, still not sure whether his eyes were deceiving him. “Is that you?”

Immediately, Munson stood up taller and raised his, uh… claws up in surrender. “I can explain! Just… um, give me a minute to figure out what to say.”

The longer they stood there, the more details Steve was slowly picking up on. For example, Munson’s eyes were so bloodshot that he was ninety-five percent sure the dude was incredibly high, and he kept squeezing the costume’s claws together like he was partly convinced he was a lobster.

Everyone else in the store seemed to be giving them a wide berth, but Steve was uncomfortably arriving at the conclusion that the spectacle was kind of… endearing. He found himself having to hide a smile behind his hand while Eddie turned back to the lobsters in the tank and started asking them to help him come up with an excuse.

Deciding to play along and maybe have a little fun, Steve sidled up to the tank to crouch down beside Munson and whisper playfully, “Is this some sort of jailbreak thing?” Munson yelped and jumped back to gape at Steve, who responded only by grinning up at him and laughing at his reaction. “Aw. What, I can’t know about it? How do you expect to free a bunch of lobsters in broad daylight all by yourself?”

Munson seemed to think on that for a little bit (debating the pros and cons, Steve assumed) before he stuck his hand out for Steve to shake, a mischievous twinkle in his sweet brown doe eyes. “Alright, Harrington. You’ve convinced me. I can’t wait to raise a lobster army with you.”

Steve refused to acknowledge how Eddie Munson’s goofy antics were making him feel all fuzzy and warm inside. Sure, he’s funny, but in a weird way, not a cute way… Right?

Steve tried not to let his growing blush show as he shook Eddie’s hand firmly. He’s just high, Steve. He’s not flirting with you. “It would be an honor.”

(Spoiler alert, past-Steve: he was totally flirting with you).

#stwgdailyprompt #mira writes #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #ficlet #drabble

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pinkmirth · 7 months

Note

(arranged marriage with reiner!! you’re expecting some cruel man and he’s just nothing of the sort and he takes his time getting to know you and falling for you before the idea of sex; and boyyyy the sex… first man to ever make you come)

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ARRANGED, reiner braun !

omg mona! hubby reiner is everything to me— especially since i’ve been meaning to write something like this for a while >< after the marriage (which you begrudgingly went through with,) you think you’re gonna hate him; that he’ll be heartless and demanding. what i love most about this is that reiner easily proves you wrong! contrary to your former assumptions, your new husband is kind. makes you proud of being ‘missus braun.’ he’s compassionate and dedicated to you and the future family you’ll make (assuming that you’re together for the sake of an heir!) speaking of an heir . . . it isn’t long before you’re expected to have his babies.

before any talk of kids, he’d spent the first few months of your marriage trying to be a good husband— a man you can rely on, someone you can tell your deepest secrets to and laugh with. from the moment your relationship became legally bound, he’s been trying his best to not only see you as a wife, but as his closest friend. once that bond is made, once you’ve built trust, he deems you ready for him. and god, is he the gentlest man on earth. his large calloused hands are capable of the softest strokes. and he never thought you’d be so eager to feel him in this way. deep down in his heart, reiner believes you’re made for him. on the night of his first attempt at impregnating you (the thought of which excites him more than it should), he makes sure to fuck you good— hard but slow, the exact way you instructed him to. he needs you to enjoy this just as much as him. with thorough thrusts and pressured rubs to your clit, five minutes was all he needed to get you undone. you think you’ve finally fallen in love— both for him and that thick cock of his. reiner’s the only man capable enough to make you feel this good, he turns out to be the best you’ve ever had.

when you’ve both had your fill, satiated after three lengthy hours of love-making, he stays. nobody else has. hell, he even goes as far as to wiping you down and tucking you in, slipping underneath the sheets beside you. strong arms encircle your waist and pull you into the firmness of his chest. his skin’s warm, so you press a kiss to it. initially, this relationship was never of your own will. you’d even threatened to run away and leave him at the goddamn altar. but now? you can’t even fathom missing up on a man as rare as reiner braun.

#ARRANGED MARRIAGE GONE RIGHT IS MY FAVORITE THING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD #i love it i love it i love it #i’m even working on something similar to this right now! (ofc it’s with reiner 🤭)#thanks so much for dropping by! mwuah 💋#୨୧ — inbox!#— (moots!)#— (ramona!)#୨୧ — mira writes!#❥ — reiner!#— (drabbles!)#— (reiner drabbles!)#reiner braun #reiner smut #reiner aot #reiner x reader #reiner x black reader #reiner braun smut #౨ৎ — 𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈!

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into-september · 1 year

Text

have a ladynoir drabble

Ladybug has loved another boy as long as Adrien has loved her; he’s lived two years on hope and the certainty that that boy can never be her partner, just like no other girl could ever replace her at his side. That was how it started - what lit the fuse was her courage and her open heart, not that she’s cute and clever and kind. Who else could know the struggle of secretly carrying the city; who else would he entrust his life? The reason he never knew how to stop loving her was that he thought it was destiny

#ladynoir #ml love square #miraculous ladybug #drabble #fanfic #mira #blah

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devilish-mirage · 2 years

Text

Misclicked

Pairing; Steven grant ×fem!Reader,

Warnings; it's 18+ content, alcohol mentioned, no smut though but still in the sexual category

Summary; you were drunk and accidentally send a naughty pic to someone.

Word count; 500+

A/n; you're feeling yourself as you should babes, love ur body!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Next >

Closing your door with a loud thud you stumbled inside you apartment, throwing your high heels to gods knows where and walking groggily before you decided to sit in front of the large mirror in your living room.

The curtains were drawn and the only source of light were the moonlight, but it's sufficient. You can see enough.

You stare at your reflection, gazing up your face for a moment before looking down to your body and then back to the mirror.

You slowly unbutton your jacket, throwing it somewhere before positioning yourself so you're on your knees.

You were wearing a skin tight black long sleeve dress, it hugs your body in the right places, perfectly highlighting your curves.

You smirked at your own reflection. Damn, is this how you looked all night? You look so good it's a waste that you can't flaunt it more.

But it doesn't matter, you'll take a pic so that when you're not feeling yourself you can see this and hopefully lift your spirits up.

So you take out your phone from your purse, opening your camera as you started your own private photoshoot.

The first one was pretty normal, with you still on your knees, you put your hand behind your head and lift your hair up, sticking out your tongue with a wink.

You were getting too hot and aware by how sticky you actually are, so you take the dress off you, huffing as you struggle to pull it over your head.

Once you're done, you look at the lingerie that you choose to wear, it was even better and sexier than that skin tight dress.

The lingerie is highlighting your skin perfectly and if it was possible you were feeling more confident. So you decided that you're not done with the pics yet.

The second pic is getting dangerous, with you opening you legs widely as the thin lacy piece of thong that can barely cover your pussy was fully shown, your bra strap fell to your shoulder. You were smirking and place a finger on your lip in a shushing manner.

You took a couple more, each one getting bolder and bolder by the seconds. Some were blurry but it added a nice effect on it, plus you're too drunk to even care anyway.

Once you took the last pic your phone rings loudly, your visions are blurry so you can't see who's calling. It's long past midnight already, who the fuck would be calling you?

But before you pick it up, it ended. You huff loudly, "rude." you muttered under your breath before standing up, once again groggily make your way to your bedroom.

A ding! rang through the silent apartment, you clicked the notification and with your hazy vision you tried your hardest to read them.

Steven with a V

I'm sorry, Y/n! I misclicked it.

You even tried your hardest to type a reply, your hands were shaking and typed a few random letters and numbers, you deleted those and tried again. You finally managed to finish your text but that's not the only thing that you did.

Y/n

Ueah no priblom

*sent an image*

You throw yourself to the bed and put your phone away at the table besides it. It didn't take that long until you were lulled to sleep, not hearing the loud ding! From your phone once again.

Steven with a V

*sent an image*

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight #steven grant #moon knight x reader #marc spector #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant x you #mcu moon knight #marvel moon knight #drabble bubble #mira writes shts #serendipity series

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nocentis · 8 months

Note

let her kiss his brand...

He sees her in the way that bees see flowers; the way that leaves see sunshine.

╳┆Honey spilled over the horizon and painted the high tide. Gilded fingers twisted into the amber silks draped upon the throne of cloud, wrapped them up in their glittering palms, around their wrists, and the day's ruler hoisted themselves slowly to claim, leaving blood and syrup in their wake. Their white robes did little to shield their pride; their radiance. There was something to be said about that immeasurable beauty and the karmic toll of viewing it. The price of a look, one held long enough to truly see, was to surrender the gift of future sight. There was something to be said about the periphery. Something about those colors, that warmth, that marvel, and how maybe close enough should be good enough, and why couldn't it be? Something about the cost of love, something about moderation, and maybe something about the comfort of cowardice.

Winter and Spring began their waltz, slowly slinking ‘round and ‘round with fingers interlaced high above their heads, eyes locked in lovers’ snares. Winter, condemned to play the role of callousness; of indiscriminate reaping, and Spring, the tender, the nurturer, tasked with the labor of rebirth. They found their compromise in the snowdrop’s bloom; in its frozen dew. They found it in the chill of the morning and the warmth of the afternoon, in the cool breeze, in the jewel-toned sky and the first blades of grass yet bitten by frost.

It must’ve been love, he thought, for what else could compel the harsh hand of Winter, cold and cruel as it was, not to strike, but to dance? It must've been love, he thought, because when Winter slipped from her grasp, Spring, in her loneliness, would begin to weep. Beautiful things bloomed from her pain, and so her pain was expected, demanded again and again. It must've been love that drove Winter to destroy those sorrow-sewn fields so that Spring would come back to him comfortably, and so just for a little while, they could find peace together.

Today, they were dancing.

╳┆The swell in his chest shined through his broadened shoulders, the length of his neck, the lift of his chin. Still, the habit of treading brazenly, maskless, through stone-laid streets, was one he’d yet to pick up. His formal pardon hadn’t barred the eyes from prying, and it certainly hadn’t muted the whispers. If anything, they’d only grown louder, more opinionated, so he'd yet to find comfort in the breeze's naked palms.

The repetitive swish and clang of his garb and the thud of his armored boots against the cobbles were familiar enough to become mute to the mind, like absorbed by his black-bleeding subconscious. Gone with it, the songbird’s tune, the whistle of the breeze, the sway of the trees. But not today. No, today he heard it—the way the wind howled in harmony with the river’s steady rush, the beat of his own pace, the trill tittering above, the cheerful chatter of life—like it was his first time. In a way, he supposed it was. Every other time he’d walked this path, he’d walked it with closed eyes and wool-stuffed ears, in thrall to the rotten echoes of his own mind. But not today. No. Today, his chin held high, as his spirits did.

He must have looked every bit the manic fool that morning, sliding through the doors of the Fairy Tail guild at the first wink of sunlight, sporting that glued-on grin he'd still yet to unstick, with nothing more to present than a pair of mismatched daffodils and their attached note. Thankfully, Mirajane and her sister, Lisanna, were already in-house preparing for the day ahead, undoubtedly taking advantage of the peace and quiet of the empty hall while they still had the opportunity. Though naturally surprised to see him so elated, they were both pleasant in their greetings and eagerly agreed to deliver his message (though he was nearly certain they were teasing him about his intentions with their fair lady Erza).

His cheer was met equally and enthusiastically. Both sisters were practically teeming with glee by the time he turned to leave, giggling and covering their mouths like they knew something the rest of the world was yet privy to. While he found their giddiness puzzling, he surely welcomed the departure from gloom; from the doom-written reeds he so often dragged in. It was nice, he thought, to share weightless words, to have a laugh, to venture beyond Winter's shadow into the first light of Spring.

From there, he'd practically skipped to his next task. Never in so many years of travel had he received such bemused faces from passersby. He'd actually paused once to check his skin, just to make sure he wasn't actually glowing. Heaven knew how long it'd been since he felt something so carefree as genuine excitement. Long enough that he found it uncontainable. Long enough that it felt like sunshine in his chest, crawling up his throat, bursting through his teeth.

Mrs. Ito was no exception to the day's pleasantries. She'd always been kind in the short time he'd known her. Recently widowed, she decided she had too much house and not enough home, in her own words, so she moved in with her eldest son, his wife, and their children. He'd met with them all one evening for dinner (Mrs. Ito wanted to know to whom she was handing over her home), and even after stories were shared and intentions were laid, he was met gently with understanding smiles, warm hands holding his own, and Mrs. Ito's hushed, "It's time to go home, son."

When he arrived to pick up the keys—his keys to his house—she greeted him fondly, like they'd always known one another. Her son stood in the doorway as he exchanged the gift of home with a box of market candies, his smile slowly melting like he'd finally found the bitter side of sweet. He'd waved goodbye with a promise to visit again soon, but as he turned towards his new tomorrow, he missed the pinch in Mrs. Ito's brow and the tears that followed. He missed the shake of her shoulders as her son ushered her back inside and the red-rimmed eyes that lingered on his back.

His elation carried him through thinning streets and into the countryside. Horse-drawn carriages passed him by with blinders on, kicking up dust and bouncing rocks off their spokes as they went. The folks tending their land paused to spare him a sprinkler's glance. Just around the bend, there sat a humble brick house on a quaint piece of land. Its stone pathway stood out in the sparsely grown, mostly browned lawn, and it drew a path straight towards that painted-red front door. The very same one that he was now standing in front of, staring at.

The key poised betwixt his fingers had been left to steep in his pocketful of sunshine long enough for the heat to transfer, and now it was burning, blistering his skin, and it felt something like rejection. Like the soul of the land had its hands on his shoulders and was shoving him backward. Like he wasn't meant to be here. He was never meant to have this.

But he wasn't ready to give it up just yet.

He tapped the door with a single knuckle, just to see if it'd turn to ash. It held steady, materially, before him, just the same as it ever looked. Its bricks spoke no threat of crumble, its roof showed no sign of collapse, and yet none of it truly felt real. Even as his head bowed and his forehead pressed into that cool crimson, even as he traced the ridges of the keys in his palm, even then, he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

A moment of silent prayer. A deep, grounding breath. Eyes open, back straight, he finally found the will to turn the key. The door slowly creaked open, allowing light to pour in through the front door.

His lingering joy was a sweet wine on the brink of spoil, turned to vinegar in his gut. The morn's candied shell cracked between his teeth and its well-concealed bitterness flooded his tongue like it had been waiting for the opportunity all along. It leaked from the corners of his still-smiling mouth, even as his lips began to twitch; even as heat brimmed his eyes and tears threatened to spill. He stood in the doorway, still, watching the walls of that front room stretch higher and higher as the moment dragged on, like he was waiting for something—something like Karma—to come along and destroy it all, strip it all away; to take from him again, as he'd taken from so many others.

He forced himself to step inside, to turn, to close and lock the door behind himself.

And then it was quiet. Devastatingly so. Gone were the wind, the leaves, the birdsong and the horses' trot. Static rushed in to fill its place, skating rings around his ears, and his periphery began to blur, his chest to ache—oh, he felt ill, and the dam threatened to burst, and his throat tightened until he audibly choked. A hand rose to cup his neck, and another to cover his mouth, stifling his upward bubbling sob as heat rose to cloud his vision. He sunk to his knees as the first tears fell, crushed by the weight of overwhelm, one hand scratching helplessly against hardwood while the other heeled at his bleeding eyes.

How audacious could he be? Already living on borrowed breath, daring to walk the path of the benevolent man. Now he dared to seek normalcy for himself, to smile gleefully while so many still woke in a cold sweat, in terror, at the sight of him, and others would never wake at all. A sick joke. He hardly deserved a proper burial, much less a place to lay his head, and yet he wanted it still.

He turned and sat with his back pressed against the front door, and he tried to find comfort in the nothing. He tried to find comfort in the emptiness, the darkness, the hollow and desolate, but the shadows had autonomous hands. Those mangled fingers were rotten down to blackened bone and had mouths where their nails should've been, and they'd been picking at the threads of his mind's drawn curtain, picking, pulling, unspooling, until they made their hole big enough to climb through. When they finally reached him, they were dripping ink like blood, wrapped up in memories' silk that they used to bind him where he was.

How long had it been? He was a child when he'd last called a house like this his home, before the raid. If only his mother and father could see him now, what would they say? Would they smile? Would they cry? Would they be proud of their son, even to this day, with all years considered, and would they love him still? Would they hand their heads in shame, or would they lift their chins in disgust? He never got the chance to know them well enough to answer those questions with any certainty.

His head thumped against the wall, tears trailing unbidden as he stared through the ceiling. His breath shook as he exhaled, voice straining when he pleaded directly to God, "Please," his face curled inward and he nearly choked, "It's more than I deserve, but please, may I have this?"

But it wasn't God who'd condemned him. It wasn't God who'd damned his soul to roam, so God need not answer.

The silence was a swarm that eventually overtook the sounds of his wet misery. The numbness accompanying that insidious peace was a welcome shift. It gathered over his shoulders and draped from him, robe-like, as he finally rose from the floor, intent on washing his face.

A few short steps brought him to the bathroom. He blindly palmed at the wall until he found the switch. Light sprung from the top down, bathing the back of his hand as he turned on the sink. He let it run over his fingers until warm and watched years-old blood run off and stain the porcelain. The water he gathered in his palms was soon spilled over the flesh of his face and beyond his sleeves.

While the salt may have washed clean, the evidence of his deluge clung to the skin beneath his eyes and around his nose in Pollock pink. That much became obvious the very second he met his own glassy stare, though its juxtaposition to the hot iron's bite made its consequence seem all the more fleeting. The tips of his fingers idled against his still-dripping skin, at first tracing the risen path, then covering it. He tried to imagine what he might've looked like without it. Would he look more youthful? Would he look kind when he smiled? Would children be less afraid when he waved to them?

He supposed it didn't matter. The choice was never his to have. That glowing sunset crest lived inside of his eyelids, lurking there, daring him to blink. Within each lapse, he saw the devil's eyes. He saw split-curl smiles and broken teeth outlined in stolen blood. He heard the devil's laugh, shrill and gleeful and giddy, and felt its dank breath against his neck, and he felt its hands curling around his ankles, his wrists, his arms and legs, puncturing his skin with nails of obsidian glass, and he felt it climb onto his chest, crack his ribs, and he felt his face begin to sweat, even though he was so, so cold.

It was so, so cold. White cold. And he was awake. Wide-eyed, shocked mute. His skin shrieked as its moisture fled, and it began to peel away, to bubble and blister and burn—God, it burned, and the smell—

Knock-knock, knock!

His visitor's early arrival nearly sent him out of his skin. He quickly turned the water off and killed the light, and he hoped that his sorrows stayed in the drain depths where they belonged.

The door swung inward, and she was there, waiting patiently, graciously, for him like she always had. His breath turned to dust in his lungs.

In her hands, those inverted daffodils dressed in yellow and white, not a petal out of place. Gold spilled over her crown, revealing that halo he'd always known was there. The breeze tossed her scarlet flames about semblant of Venus, and rosey lips sat in their gentle curve, smiling softly at him, yet before they could split to spill a greeting, he'd already begun to pull her towards him. As he wrapped himself around her, his eyes began to burn again, and the second he felt her hand at his back, returning his embrace, he broke, and the tears spilled forth once more. His head fell to rest against her armored shoulder, and through the rain, he began to laugh.

She pulled away to view him at arms' length, mouth slightly parted as though a question had come to peer through her teeth. He wiped at his face with tremors in his hands, chuckling softly when Erza finally shoved out, "Tears?"

"It's silly, really," he holds up the keys, "I'm overwhelmed."

It didn't take her long to put it together.

Warmth graced his jaw with the weight of a whisper, so faint he'd thought surely that he'd imagined it. That is, until it struck again, soft and sweet against his cheek, beneath his eye, his forehead. His eyes blinked open as she sunk back to her heels, bashfully peering up at him through the veil of her lashes; waiting for him to do something, anything.

The raucous buzzing faded into a melodic hum like the swarm had finally found its queen.

His blood sang as it rushed red-hot through his shoulders, crawled up his neck, and began burning its way through the skin of his face. The ear-popping clarity of his thought-storm's sudden abandon left him staring mindlessly with eyes much too wide and jaw much too lax, narrowly remembering to breathe, until her shy expression began to melt into something more reminiscent of unease, like she was preparing to flee.

Perhaps a touch too quickly, he grabbed her hand, careful to keep his grip loose enough that she could pull away if she wanted. Slowly, surely, his opposite hand reached to tuck her hair behind her ear, and his palm cupped her cheek in a silent plea not to retreat from him. A silent plea to stay here, right here, in this moment, in his grasp, just a little while longer.

And she did. She stayed. She smiled gently, warmly. Her head fell to rest against his chest and she leaned into his sway. There, in the silence, they found their rhythm. They began to dance.

"Welcome home, Jellal." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- @mamorigami

#v: ╳ ┆ x793 ┆◜ main ◞#♡┆◜ tytania ◞#ask and you shall receive bb #it's a little bittersweet #hc: jellal's ptsd flares when good things happen bc good things usually precipitate crushing loss #drabble #sorry this took me so long!#also mira and lisanna def assumed he was finally asking Erza out #they're gonna be so disappointed #also… speaking for your muse feels so alien and out of my territory HAH #so I tried to keep it minimal #<3 #long post #very long post #woowee finally posting this #don't kill me yall im still rusty #ik this doesn't really evoke the emotions i was going for but it's good practice anyway #also erza is his home goodbye #and yes there's room for meredy she's just not in this bc uhhhh she's busy

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