fairyofprose

And who can say why your heart cries / When your love lies? / Only time

[fairyofprose]

FAIRYOFPROSE'S BLOG ˖୭

victoria ╱ she/her, minor, sfw + suggestive blog. — bllk, gachiakuta, sakamoto days

about me rules masterlist ✉ — letter box is open to both requests & anybody who wants to chat or become mutuals <3

lace dividers from; @/cursed-carmine

[fairyofprose]

ONE FOR SORROW ╱ ch. [1] of counting crows (karasu x f!reader series) August [28] Summer's coming to an end; I wonder if Autumn will bring something (a)new.

FREQUENCY ILLUSIONS are an irritating phenomenon. At least, to you they are. 

It is a well established fact that everyone's brain is constantly bombarded with several scraps of sensory inputs every passing second, an amount far too much for anyone to thoroughly digest. The majority of them will simply slip through the crevices of your mind, flowing out like dew as they trickle away from the branches of your knowledge. The remainders usually manage to hook onto such rooks in the bark, either already familiar with the forms or bonded personally once they clamp onto the roots of your neurons. They repeat themselves throughout, like recurring species of birds (maybe corvids, maybe crows) adorning a sweeping oak tree. And, as it tends to go, the human mind will take keen notes of these repetitions, no matter what they are. 

You imagine that must be why your eyes are trailing Karasu for maybe the twenty second time this month. He steps past your classroom with his hands resting in his pockets in that faux casualty and hair in that strange shape you can't seem to hate. Your eyes lull from beneath your lashes. You don’t know why he’s there, just that, recently, every time he is, you manage to spot him with seamless ease. Something quite abnormal when the scale of your school is considered. 

To think it began with one measly conversation back in July. You can hardly recall what was being discussed; perhaps impending exams, or extracurriculars, or other things that don’t really matter. There’s only one thing you can confidently claim that you did not discuss, which was the way your friendship eroded away over the course of time. It isn’t any surprise, it’s always a universally unspoken habit of everyone to avoid talking about the nature of a relationship. That’s why people are usually so terrible with it. (You might be one of the worst.) 

You forgot how the chat came to be as well. Something tells you it was the fault of the mild overlap of your social circles and the intervention of your best friends, but you aren’t very sure. All you know is that you don’t want to be seeing his face everywhere you go because whatever familiarity stirs only seems to translate into a heavy weight that envelopes your heart. 

“[Last Name], what’s the answer to Question B?” 

Blatantly ignoring the screams of “oh shit” droning on in your head as a resultant of your teachers words, you flick your gaze down at your textbook. The pages are slightly crinkled, little marks indicating where your pen pressed down too hard. 

“Twenty-eight,” you reply in the smoothest tone you can muster, reading the scribbly drawl of your handwriting aloud.

“Correct,” she hums, flipping off the whiteboard pen with a dull click. 

You lull your head on the palm of your hand. In all honesty, you’re mostly just being dramatic. Neither you or Karasu are bitter or anything, you personally just hold an immense disdain to growing up and apart. Whether that is limited to the said boy is something you don’t currently know, or ever intend to, really. 

A small huff escapes from beneath your breath, so faint that you yourself barely manage to hear it. Pondering never does seem to do any good, not when you’re like this anyway. 

A couple more questions and answers sprout within the room as your musings begin to tug on their own curtains. 

The sharp ringing of the bell pierces throughout the school, signifying the long due arrival of break. Only a few seconds pass before the sound is replaced by an eruption of shoes squeaking against the floorboards and scraping of chairs as they slide into their designated spots beneath the desks. 

“Make sure you do Chapter Thirteen everyone,” your teacher calls out to the class, meeting a few words of acceptance and several exasperated groans. The room trickles into emptiness as you take your time packing up, finger twitching mildly as you pull the zip of your bag closed. 

Miriku leans against your desk slightly when she steps over, a smile spread across her lips. “You were staring at Karasu when he walked past.” 

“Huh? No, I wasn’t,” you deny, moreso trying to defend yourself from whatever implications the statement had than the action itself. 

“Liar,” she hums. “What’s up with you and him anyway.” 

“Nothing. I was just surprised, I guess. I’ve been seeing him around a lot recently,” you say honestly, hanging your bag over your shoulder. It brushes against your uniform softly. 

“Noticing …” she muses. 

You jab her playfully in the arm as a response, “Let’s just go, I don’t really wanna stay in this classroom any longer.”

She smirks at your swift change of subject, slinging her arm around you as you both walk out the class, “If you say so then.” You don’t react to the motion, plenty used to her tactile affection. “I do say so.” 

“Anyway,” she began, “Sora said she’d meet us at the rooftop a little late.” 

“Hm, how come?” 

“Something about organising an event with her teacher.”

You blink. “Oh, right. She did mention that.” 

“Mhm.” 

The two of you make your way down the stairs, chattering about idle topics as you weave through the mob of students. The buzz of their conversations blend with yours, causing some words to be lost in translation. 

“Blending greens?” 

“Huh? How’d you get that,” she laughed, the sound coming out like distant bell chimes. “I said I’m gonna buy something from the vending machine. Want anything?” 

“Eh, I’m alright for today.” You paused in thought, a few people brushing past, “I’ll wait by the wall over there since it’s kinda crowded here.” 

“Okay,” she replies before bounding over towards the machine. Its effulgent light illuminates the space ahead of it, spurring a gentle glow to dance over the small cluster of students there. You observe for a moment before stepping in the opposite direction. 

You aren’t too sure what has caused a horde inside, but from the disgruntled complaints you’ve picked up on, it appears to just be the seemingly dull cloudy weather. It’s apparent that this summer has been nothing short of gloom, with glum tufts of clouds constantly wading throughout the sky and prohibiting the sun to shine its radiance upon the land. Frankly though, the matters of the weather have never really bothered you. Save for the rain. 

Your body stiffens the mildest bit as you glance across the wall, spotting an all so exasperated Karasu stare into one of the classrooms with someone else's bag sitting in his hand. You recognise it to be Otoya’s distinctly green one. 

“Hi Karasu,” you greet, eyes drifting away as you lean on the wall beside him. Miriku was now chatting to someone by the vending machine, it was hard to tell whether it was intentional that she was leaving you here momentarily. 

“Hey,” he responded in a lacksidal tone, glancing at you briefly. 

“How’ve you been?” you ask after a long moment.  

“Yeah, good,” he replies. “You?” 

“Fine,” you mutter beneath your breath. You wonder if the word even meets Karasu’s ears. Your gaze flicks over towards him, and for some reason, you begin to feel like every so-called frequent illusion has been nothing but a cover for something you refrain from addressing. 

He sends you a sidelong glance, the blues of his eyes stirring with uncertainty under the weight of your stare.

“Is something bothering you? Ya seem a little off.” 

—

“Is something bothering you? Ya seem a little off,” he asked. 

“Just, didn’t do so well on a test,” you admitted in response, throwing your sweater on carelessly. “You’ve also been acting kinda off anyway.” 

“Hm? You think so?” 

“Yeah, it feels like you’ve been avoiding me a little,” you trail off into a murmur, mild embarrassment playing over your expression. Fortunately, the cloth you shimmy on conceals it, but you still feel the heat creeping along your neck. 

“Oh,” he hummed, a small grin breaking across his lips. “So you’ve missed me?” 

“Hey, don’t twist my words,” you replied, adjusting the jumper as it hugs around your torso.

He chuckled softly before fading into a quiet sincerity, “Sorry, I haven’t been meaning to or anything.” The moment swells. “Soccer has just kept me busy ‘nd stuff,” he added vaguely. 

“Nah, it’s fine.” The leaves crunched as you shifted on your feet, the sound blending into the trees' agitation. A playful smile formed on your face. “Though, I suppose a good compensation would be if you bought me something from the vending machine,” you suggest in faux contemplation, scratching your chin to emphasise the point. 

He let out a huff of amusement, “I suppose so. What d’ya want to buy?” 

“Yakult, obviously,” you said.

—

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me,” you answer easily.

He blinks at you, mumbling a weak word of compliance. He wonders if you know how weirdly difficult it is for him to do; to not think of you.

As you peel yourself away from the wall slowly, you take a discreet glance at him. Sunlight streams in from behind, casting a tender glow across his expression, one entirely incoherent to you now. The light traces along his fine cutting features, and you can only really think about how different he seems to be from a couple years ago. A difference that goes beyond physical appearance and how he carries himself, but not one you could really explain. You imagine that he probably feels the exact same way about you. Something strange, twinged with SORROW twists in the center of your heart at that prospect. Like a needle too precise to ever extract. 

Your eyes flit to the window behind him momentarily. A flash of black goes by, the shape indicating a single crow flying past. You have an inexplicable suspicion that that, too, may become something you start noticing quite frequently in your mind. “See you, Karasu,” you eventually say, walking off to Miriku as her own conversation draws to an end.

“See ya,” he returns, gaze flicking away from your receding figure instinctively. Otoya still seems to be chatting up that girl in the classroom. 

Moments such as these are ones that, unbeknownst to each other, you both actively avoid dwelling too far on. It isn’t as if there is much to think about anyway, for, they simply are what they are. (So it goes.)

authors note ╱ oh brother... we got two yearnatron 3000s here... anyway, swear on my soul my writing will improve as this goes on because 😥 also, in case it was too vague, the interaction between the cuts was a memory

[fairyofprose]

does anybody want this still,, im contemplating discontinuing it 😭😭🙏 (no motivation)

[nakahras]

𓇼 ˖° dimples • multi character

synopsis • you’re surrounded by stupid men with cute dimples, it’s a tragedy

warnings • all: lower case intentional, fem!reader • chuuya’s: intoxication (alcohol), slight spoilers for stormbringer

wc • 4.4k

a/n • writing for characters other than chuuya and dazai (even tho i snuck both of them in there 💀) was refreshing. i had sm fun with all of these

ada: kunikida (wc 767)

it’s been almost eight hours of torture and you’re not even close to being finished with the mountain of work this stupid sack of bandages and bones has let pile up. it’s been especially bad this month, he usually tries to keep up the first week or so but from the looks of it, with this month that wasn’t the case. the worst part of it all? you don’t even get to leave the office until the brunette has all of his backed up work completed and at the rate you’re going you’ll both be here for the rest of the week. you wish you were exaggerating but you don’t think you are. last month atsushi was stuck in the office for a full 32 hours. the poor boy didn’t speak to dazai for almost a week after that, having had his fill for a lifetime.

your eye is twitching and your head is throbbing. you’ve been stuck next to dazai for almost eight whole hours due to having literally drawn the short straw. each month all the detectives, excluding ranpo since he’s just as bad, draw straws to help dazai catch up on his neglected paperwork and unfortunately this month was your turn. 

you let out another long sigh, at this rate you’ll pass out from the breathing exercises before you finish all of this work. your glasses are propped low on your nose, index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of it in irritation. dazai is currently humming his double suicide song and leaning dangerously far back in his desk chair. 

just as an idea stampedes across your mind, kunikida, not even looking up from his laptop, speaks up. “if you keep leaning back in that chair, you rock-for-brains, you’re going to fall and hit your head. god knows you don’t need to take any more damage to that screwy brain of yours.”

you can’t help but to let out a snort as you look over to see obvious offense on the brunette's face. it’s rare that kunikida’s outlandish comments towards dazai surprise you anymore, but it’s almost as if the blonde had read your mind. you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from smiling further when dazai gives you an accusatory glance before directing his attention back to the senior detective.

“awww are you worried about me, kunikida-kun? that’s so sweet of you. i’m not clumsy enough to fall from leaning back in my chair like this though. i’ve mastered the art!” as if to demonstrate, dazai leans way back, far more dangerously than he had previous to this conversation. 

without thinking you lean over and push on dazai’s chair, knowing the only result being him tumbling to the floor. “oh, have you now.”

in the split second before his demise, the brunette looks at you with an expression of utter betrayal. it’s like it happens in slow motion, you watch the betrayal flash into horror and then finally acceptance settles in his features as the back of his chair hits the ground and dazai clashes with the floor. a loud crash resounds across the office and everyone is too stunned to move let alone make a noise. not even a moment later dazai is groaning and lets out a pathetic whine. 

before he can open his mouth to complain verbally you’re both startle by a loud chortle coming from behind you. your eyes widen at the foreign noise falling from the usually stoic or angry blonde. you watch in wonder as his lips are stretched into a rare smile and his flushed cheeks display deep crevices. they’re dimples, you’ve never seen kunikida smile this widely, so you’ve never noticed them until now. something in your stomach flutters at the sight and you can’t help but to smile at him in astonishment. 

when kunikida settles down, clutching his stomach, he’s still smiling as he removes his glasses and wipes the tears from his eyes. as he places the metal frames back on his face his gaze seeks you out and when it settles on you his face is one of shock to find you already staring at him in amazement. you watch him closely, scrutinizing his expressions to see if you really never noticed the signs of dimples decorating his cheeks before. 

kunikida clears his throat awkwardly and composes himself. “what is it?”

you let out an airy laugh and shake your head while offering him a reassuring smile. “it’s nothing really…i just never noticed before, kunikida, but you have dimples. you should smile more often, they suit you.”

pm: chuuya (wc: 1.1k)

you hardly ever drink, if at all. the most you’ll have in a sitting is a glass of whatever’s offered to you. you usually sip at it slowly, nursing that one drink for the rest of the night. 

…but tonight…

tonight is certainly different. you’re celebrating the close defeat of fyodor and the decay of angels with the armed detective agency of all people. the surprising collaboration had bonded so many of your people together that it was only right to celebrate as one. the defeat was, after all, all of yours. 

despite the celebratory mood, you currently find yourself in a predicament. as one of the port mafia’s physicians it’s easy to fly under the radar at an event much like this one, but the ada’s doctor took a special liking to you and has been feeding you shot after shot of saki to shoot with her. at this rate, you won’t even be able to see straight enough to hook yourself up to an iv before passing out after this. you don’t even want to know what kind of headache you’ll have in the morning if you can’t stay hydrated.

you need to find a reason to excuse yourself before you’re roped into taking your sixth shot of the night. 

you scan the vicinity, everything blurring at the edges. your eyes zero in on the one person you’ve actually wanted to speak to all night. you haven’t seen him since he came back from europe. you missed him. the thought makes you cringe internally at the involuntary thought. you wonder how much you look like a love sick puppy because suddenly yosano is leaning in and whispering, very indiscreetly might you add.

“oho! am i keeping you from a special someone? go on, i can find another drinking buddy…” the woman doesn’t even give you a chance before she’s waving the bottle of saki and zeroing in on the blonde with glasses whose name you never bothered to learn. “kunikida! come here!”

you take a breath and try your best not to stumble over to where the ginger is observing something to his left, clearly amused. when you get about 3 meters from him, his head snaps over to you and his small smile stretches into a bigger fond one. his eyes soften and he reaches out to steady you.

god, you almost forgot how truly gorgeous this man is.

“looks like you had too much fun with the agency’s doctor there.” the second his smile widens you’re a goner, your mind becomes even more foggy and your legs wobbly.

you smile proudly at chuuya and you think you must look ridiculous because he lets out a chuckle that puts his single dimple on full display. “were you keeping tabs on me, chuuya nakahara?”

your words are a little slurred, even though it’s not very noticeable, they still come out more jumbled than you previously thought they would. if you had the decency you’d flinch at it but your inhibitions are a little scarce right now. you don’t even have the decency to feel embarrassed. 

what’s even worse is chuuya catches the way your eyes scan his figure, gaze lingering on features that should be left for a private setting. you’re absolutely shameless and you’re not even that inebriated. your ogling is put to an end when your eyes meet his own again. his grin wide and smug. 

once again, you’re consumed by how stunning he is.

“i was…been waiting all night for that doctor to leave you alone. it’s been a while, doll. how’ve you been?” chuuya reaches out to straighten your hair by tucking your loose strands behind your hair, you don’t miss the way he lets his hand linger before pulling away and letting his arm drop back to his side.

you hum contentedly and shrug. “i’ve been overworked and worried. but…i’m glad it’s finally over and you’re back. i’m glad you’re safe.”

trying to change the subject, you hone in on the small indent that’s settled on his face from smiling so much and chuuya gives you a confused look but he doesn’t question you just yet. 

“y’know, you only have one dimple and i think,” you reach up and poke at the small crater in his cheek. “it’s the cutest thing ever.”

a fit of giggles falls from your lips and chuuya swears that somehow between when you walked over and now you had time to sneak in stealing his heart. something in his stomach flutters and his hands twitch, begging to hold onto you. chuuya tilts his head back, effectively making your hand fall from his face and downs the rest of his wine.

you watch in amusement, enjoying the way your words have clearly affected him. maybe drinking as much as you did wasn’t such a bad idea after all. you never would have said something like that to the world’s strongest ability user otherwise. you’ve harbored affection for the ginger since doc, your mentor, was still alive. you can practically hear albatross in your ear, teasing you for your, at the time, small crush. 

you’re brought out of your melancholy thoughts when chuuya’s gloved hand wraps around your wrist and he pulls you into him. you stumble and fall into the gravity manipulator. you let out a noise of complaint, ready to voice your qualms but it all dies on your tongue as it goes dry when you notice the tantalizing look on chuuya’s face.

“you’re callin’ me cute? you?” chuuya leans in, he’s so close you can smell the faint scent of wine and cigarettes on his breath.

you swallow thickly and look away, face now flushed from more than just the alcohol. “what d’you mean by that…”

the ginger leans in impossibly closer, his lips now brushing yours but before he can even say anything, an airy and teasing voice is calling out for the executive. 

“chuuya! i’ve been looking all over for you, don’t tell me you were avoiding me? and here i thought we had patched things up back at the prison.”

chuuya’s brown eye twitches as his head turns to find a tall brunette with a simpering smile. it takes you a moment but you realize this is someone you know, someone who you haven’t seen or heard from since you were 18, dazai osamu. you aren’t exactly in the mood for a reunion, your face still flushing from what just transpired between you and the executive.

you try to escape but chuuya’s grip on your wrist only tightens. a clear nonverbal for you to stay put. despite suddenly feeling stone cold sober, you have a sneaky feeling you’re still going to be missing that iv tonight.

guild: mark twain (wc: 738)

this standstill is agonizing, you’re so bored. you’ve been stuck on the moby dick for what seems like ages and yet you still haven’t been given an assignment by francis. you feel useless, like you’ve just been twiddling your thumbs — hell, even poe has had a role to play in all of this. 

it’s so incredibly frustrating.

you sit on the floor of the sunroom, you thought basking in the sunlight might help your mood. you thought wrong. you’ve been sulking for the last hour, maybe longer, just huffing and puffing as if someone was there. you let out another sigh and dramatically flop to the ground and onto your back as you hear someone approaching. 

you look up to find a pair of sandal clad feet far too close to your face for comfort. you grimace and quickly sit back up to get away from the offending appendages. you previously had wanted some company, at least then it would be less agonizing. but you’re filled with dread when you decide your mood is far too sour to be entertaining anyone at the moment. 

you glare at the ginger looming over you.

“get those dogs away from me.” you cross your legs and your face twists further in annoyance when you’re met with an amused expression.

a chuckle falls from his lips as he plops himself on the floor next to you. “someone’s in a cheery mood today.”

you roll your eyes and contemplate ignoring the young man altogether. of course you’re in a shit mood, you’re bored, you’ve been bored since you got to japan. you’re not even allowed to explore the area. you tried sneaking out but that damn priest caught you and tattled. you almost lose your temper just thinking about it.

“hey,” your internal rage is halted by mark trying to capture your attention. “where’d ya go just now?”

you let out a groan and flop back onto the floor. usually mark has a knack for fishing you out of your own thoughts but you don’t think even he can help today. you’d asked permission again to go explore and once again francis denied you. you feel like a bird, caged in, wings clipped so you’re unable to fly. being cooped up like this is driving you insane and you think mark can sense it because he stops pressing and lays down with you. 

you both lay in silence for a bit and your tense muscles finally begin to relax. maybe this wasn’t so bad, basking in the sun alone was sad, but having someone to do it with…it’s nice. you’ve suddenly forgotten why you were so worked up.

the peaceful moment only lasts a few moments. a familiar and mischievous voice rings close to your ear and you start. “he’s been worried about ya, y’know?”

“tom?!” both you and the ginger cry out in unison.

you sit up and look over at mark incredulously. he’s never accidentally activated the boys before, his control always being pretty impressive actually. your lips part slightly as you notice the embarrassed pout that stretches his lips down. the frown bringing out the dimples on his cheeks, making them far more apparent than they are when he smiles. 

it takes a moment but tom’s words sink in, when they do you let out a snort that has mark giving you a mortified look. tom is perched on your shoulder, snickering along with you. mark glares at the small apparition and releases his ability cutting off his snickering. 

you look over to mark with a smug grin. “so, you’ve been worried about me, huh?”

you let out a chuckle as the ginger groans. suddenly your sour mood melts away and you’re left with a sweet aftertaste. your grin is wide and reaches your eyes, making them crinkle at the edges. your chest feels lighter, a weight that’s been sitting in your rib cage since departing the states finally being relieved and you have mark twain to thank for that. you watch as his frown stays clearly plastered on his features. you shake your head at him.

“ah, c’mon, mark. y’know i’m only teasing you. although i should do it more often, that frown brings out those adorable dimples of yours even more than a smile does…”

mark offers you an offended side eye but he can’t hide the blush that dusts the apple of his cheeks at your words.

hunting dogs: tachihara (wc 1k) 

“tecchou could be charming… if it weren’t for his strange…quirks.” you snicker at jouno’s quip, never missing the chance to insult the brunette. 

you hum, a smirk stretching at your lips. “okay, mr. ‘i like to piss people off for fun’, you’re just as bad.”

the blind man turns his head towards your voice and scowls in your direction. your smile widens, pleased with ticking him off. playing his game better than him is always so exhilarating. jouno always gives you some of the best reactions . 

your captain belts out a hearty laugh. the older man himself had started this conversation. apparently he’d been shot down and came into your meeting room with his ears drooped and tail between his legs. charm. that is the subject at hand, which of you have the most charm. it started with fukuchi insisting on his “boyish charm” despite his age. the man is clearly in denial but trying to convince him of that is pointless, you would know, you’ve tried. 

jouno hisses, “as if you’re any better.”

“i am. why do you think i’m the member fukuchi sends out for negotiations, my dear jouno?” you snicker when the pale man turns his nose up at you and clicks his tongue, knowing you’d won.

it’s been a while since all of you had been summoned together. despite the bickering you’re excited to see your colleagues altogether in one room. you’re especially giddy to see a certain redhead who’s been undercover with the port mafia for almost 2 years now. you’ve missed 2 of his birthdays, he must look older now. you wonder just how much the young man has grown since the last time you saw him — as a boy. you were still young too, you still are, younger than him at the very least. not by much of course but it’s enough to make you the second youngest member of the hunting dogs. 

the last time you saw tachihara, the two of you fought. you begged him, pleaded with him to not take the assignment with the port mafia. it was dangerous and you knew about his personal grudge against its leader. but he didn’t listen, he made a promise to you, though. he promised to come back to you in one piece. 

you impatiently wait to see if he kept his promise. 

you’re pulled out of your thoughts by fukuchi. “ah, we almost forgot about the other two. what do you think of teruko.”

you and jouno share a look. teruko has never been the most agreeable…and that’s putting it lightly. her attitude is arrogant at best. sure, when she loves, she loves with her entire being but that’s a rare instance and it takes time to get there with the girl.

“why don’t we skip over her and move on to tachihara…” jouno looks almost pained at having to avoid the topic altogether.

luckily you’re both saved by the meeting room door opening and 3 other figures walking in. you sit up straight, watching as tecchou strides in first. your breath hitches when a smaller figure walks in with another larger one. you can feel the look jouno is casting your way, knowing well he felt the way your heartbeat began to race, the way your breath caught in your throat, and the way you tremble with nerves. 

you were right. he does look older, but most importantly he still looks just as handsome. maybe even more so than before. you also notice he’s grown into his uniform, unlike the baggy uniform he wore the last time you saw him, this one fits him perfectly.

instead of greeting everyone else (you suppose this wasn’t the first meeting he’s had with the rest since infiltrating the port mafia) tachihara dives right into the conversation you were having previously.

“what about me?”

you don’t miss the way the ginger’s eyes scan the room and light up the second they meet your own and you don’t miss the way he makes a beeline for the empty seat next to you. “our captain here, believes that he still has a boyish charm about him…”

“...ah…uh huh… so old age has made the geezer delusional then?” tachihara grins proudly at you, a dimpled smile on full display, as he claims the empty seat as his own.

you let out a bubbly giggle, unable to contain yourself and nod. “i’m afraid so!”

“hey!” the older man whines in a way that’s reminiscent of teruko. “i am not old.”

jouno and tecchou chime in while teruko and your captain argue against why you’re all wrong. you watch them all with a fond smile and a warmth in your chest. you’ve missed this, missed them all. having michizo next to you made it all feel complete, like you’re whole again.

the ginger leans in cautiously, watching for any hesitation on your part, but he won’t find any. “what about you? what do you think? am i charming?”

you study his face for a moment, all the previously soft edges of his face have smoothed out, only leaving sharp features. even his eyes are far more calculating than they were before he left. one thing that hasn’t changed though, his boyish smile. the indents in his cheeks give way to his young age. for once you're happy to see that some things never change. 

apparently, your conversation wasn’t a private one as fukuchi chimes in. “it pains me to say but you have the most boyish charm out of all of us, even greater than mine - but only by a little.”

you chuckle at the stubborn man’s words and tachihara follows suit. the soft rumbled noise he makes is deeper and that’s when you realize, it’s not just his laugh that’s gotten deeper — his voice has a certain gruffness it didn’t have before. it’s subtle but it’s soothing, much like a lullaby.

you wink at the ginger and respond in a teasing tone, “fukuchi is right, tachihara, your boyish charm could get you out of all sorts of trouble. it’s definitely those cute dimples of yours.” 

doa: nikolai (wc: 837)

you don’t even remember what you just said. or where you are. or what you two are even doing here. all you know is that nikolai is sitting in front of you laughing like a madman. it’s not one of his usual forced cackles, no, this one is possibly the first genuine laugh you’ve seen from him. his real laugh is far lighter than the crackled and loud noises that slip past his lips when he plays his little games. you find yourself trying to memorize the sound, much preferring this laugh to the previously mentioned one.

his face is relaxed too. the twisted grin he usually wears has melted away into a bright smile that reaches his cheeks, making the most stunning little indents in them. nikolai truly is gorgeous and you find yourself thinking he’s even more beautiful when he lets himself relax. his uncovered eye sparkles as he wipes away the tears that built up from his fit of laughter. 

you’ve always thought that nikolai himself is just beautiful in general but when he’s like this? you can’t help but to stare.

and of course, the clown notices. “whatcha staring at, chickadee?” 

it’s teasing, a lilt in his voice that’s just a little too cheery. your attention, which was previously zeroed in on nikolai’s isolated features, focuses out and onto him as a whole. his head is tilted to the side, staring at you curiously.

you’re suddenly acutely aware of the fond smile that’s plastered on your face. you gather your bearings and turn that smile into a frown, crossing your arms across your chest, you stubbornly look away. you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“nothing.” your voice comes out deadpanned. 

nikolai prances his way over to you, standing on his toes and leaning in. you swear he has no sense of personal space, you doubt he even knows the meaning of it. your lips immediately curl up in discomfort and you lean away from him, trying to create as much distance as possible without actually stepping back. your attempts are futile, though, his tall stature and freakishly good balance allows him to follow you. 

the white haired clown lets out a snort. “ah, come on, that answer’s no fun!”

“it wasn’t s’posed to be, gogol.” your expression is uninterested but internally you aren’t as confident in your ability to keep your composure. 

nikolai dramatically pouts at you and straightens back up, doing a little twirl that you think is quite ridiculous. but that’s nikolai, ridiculous and unabashed. you straighten up too and watch him wearily. his sheer amount of energy seems to drain your own, sucking the life out of you the longer you’re around him. his eccentricity is something that you’re still not accustomed to.

nikolai perks up and you almost wince knowing you’re not going to like whatever thought it is that just lit him up like a lightbulb. 

“let’s play a game then!” you can’t help the way you eye him suspiciously. “we each tell the other our favorite things about the other. we’ll start with favorite feature!”

“no.”

“yes!” 

your eye twitches at how quick he is to reject your refusal. the twitching intensifies when he starts humming the jeopardy theme and prancing around you, clearly waiting for your approval. you decide you’re gonna be bullheaded on this one — or, at the very least, try to be.

“absolutely not.”

nikolai let’s out a foul buzzer noise “absolutely! c’mon. i’ll go first-”

“nikolai. no.”  

there’s now a dull pounding in your head and you’re starting to think that maybe conceding is the best option to get him to stop.

“nikolai. yes!” his grin is wide and you can tell he’s caught on to your waning perseverance.

you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, a sign of you accepting defeat. “if i tell you, will you stop bouncing around like that and calm down?”

“cross my heart and hope to die!” his tone is cheery, sing-song and light. 

you know — you know — you’re going to regret this later but you could care less at this particular moment. anything to give you a sliver of peace. 

“fine…your dimples, they’re my favorite feature of yours, they’re…mesmerizing…”

you look away embarrassed at the admission, missing the way nikolais face softens for a moment. then he winds up again, like a toy soldier that just had its key turned to the max. he’s moving around you with twice the amount of gusto as he was before his promise, practically vibrating. you scowl at him, displeased.

“you promised you would knock that off, you clown.”

the said clown gives you a pleased grin and sings out again. “i lied!”

you cannot believe you let him trick you like that, your ire making your skin crawl. or maybe that’s your embarrassment prickling at your skin and making it flush. you try not to let your mind linger on it too much as you let a response fly out of your mouth.

“then die.”

[fairyofprose]

i love mark and tachihara so much

[beardedmrbean]

[theman]

I GOT A FUCKING RAISE THE POTATO WORKED WTF

[tattooedzombigirl]

This potato works. Every. Fucking. Time.

[imanutcase-10]

Then bring me luck

[thirddeadlysin]

the day after I posted this last time I was notified that I was selected for a really cool mentorship gig and got an unrelated glowing review at work

[pishposhimlost]

I really need something good

[zariverse]

This potato works wtf😭

[https-vintage]

Guess I'll reblog then

[m-ray-72]

Potato do ur magic 🙏

[timetaleto]

Need the luck ! ! !

[jakesdickrider12]

GIMME THE LUCK PLCC

[nodoubtily]

I NEED THIS SB GIMME

[fairyofprose]

Potato, I trust you. Work that magic.

[fairyofprose]

Mr Darcy

OG yearnatron 🥹 i love him most ardently fr 🥹

[yayamrata]

AHHHHB HAVE U READ THE BOOK BY CHANCE???

[fairyofprose]

YESSSSSSS I STILL NEED TO READ THE MOVIE ACTUALLY 😭😭

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

currently thinking about academic rival!hugo…

hugo doesn’t get it. doesn’t get you. why do you work so hard, even though you clearly don’t have the aptitude for academics? why do you study so hard, even though book smarts are so obviously something you lack? why do you always demand to compare his test scores to yours, even when he’s clearly the more intelligent one?

he stares when you bury your nose in textbooks during study hall instead of talking to your friends. he stares when you bring a collection of stationaries, color-coding and organizing. he stares when the margins of your books and worksheets are littered with notes and questions. he stares when he sees the furrow of your brows on exam days. he stares when you look at your exam papers side by side with his, trying to see what exactly you answered wrong.

he hates it. why can’t you just follow what you were destined to do, something clearly not academic related, and stick with it? there are plenty of successful people without high school diplomas; why can’t you just accept your fate and try to become one of them?

“hey hugo, what’d you get this time?” you ask from the desk next to him. he holds up his test paper, a perfect 100 written at the top in bright red ink. “oh, good job. can i see your answers real quick?”

he hands it over to you without question; this is routine nowadays. he would score higher than you, you’d ask him for his answers, and you’d study what you got wrong for “next time.”

he rests his hand on his chin, long lashes fluttering as he blinks. “why?” he asks. you blink, looking up with a raised eyebrow. “why do you work so hard at something you’re clearly abysmal at? i don’t get it. if you just accept that your aptitude at academics is non-existent, it saves both time and energy, and you’ll get results faster at something else.”

you stiffen. hugo tilts his head; clearly, his words struck a nerve. “well, um, i’ve already put in this much work, and you can’t really be successful without good grades, and unlike someone, not everyone is born with incredible talent for what the world deems important–”

“your heated ramblings tell me that i’m right on the money.” he cuts you off. he raises two fingers, his pointer and his middle. “right now, you have two options. you can follow down this path of worthless academia and be met with disappointment, or you can let me help you find something you’re good at and we can carry on from there. i don’t want to see you fail. you’re far too hardworking for such a destiny.”

“you really piss me off.” you reply. “the first path, obviously. you’re a goddamn know-it-all.” you slide his test paper back to him. “i’m going to go to the library, because unlike a certain someone, i actually read books with information inside. i’ll see you later.”

he watches you turn on your heel and leave. he shouldn’t care this much, it doesn’t even matter. if you want to go down a road that’ll only lead to disappointment, then be his guest. that wasn’t his problem.

so then why did he feel so disappointed?

sure, it was always frustrating for someone with limitless aptitude for something to choose another destiny, but not so much that hugo felt that it was difficult to keep himself standing? you, without a shadow of a doubt, will never listen to what he’s telling you, so why does he insist?

with others, watching them follow their destiny is simply fascinating. but with you…you’re different. he wants you to succeed. you wants to see you glowing with happiness. he wants you to find something you can truly be the best at. he wants to help you.

he’s selfish, but goddamnit does he love you.

the smile on your face when you get a perfect score on a test. the giggles you release when talking about an inside joke with your friends. your look of victory when you get the same score on a test as hugo. your praises and admiration towards him. how you always look to him when you don’t understand something.

they’re always replaying in his mind.

fuck it–he strides out of the classroom, heading straight to the school library. inside, he finds you near the chemistry section, eyes scanning each book spine. he stands next to you, dark eyes fixated on you. “i personally believe that people have more than one destiny, but it’s important to follow out as many as they can.”

“mhm?” you answer, sliding out a book about molecular bonding. “and?”

“there’s another destiny for you.” he blinks. “one that’ll surely lead to good outcomes if you just stop being so stubborn.”

“and what do you think is my supposed destiny?” you ask sarcastically, flipping through the pages. “oh, lemme guess. should i go be a construction worker? marry a rich man and be a trophy for the rest of my life?”

“no,” he takes one of your hands from the book, sandwiching it into both of his palms.

“you should be with me.”

tysm to @cursed-carmine for the lovely dividers!

[fairyofprose]

holy shit.

[fairyofprose]

Mr Darcy

OG yearnatron 🥹 i love him most ardently fr 🥹

[crispy-criss-2]

hugo's profile just released and someone commented "no fetish :(("

[fairyofprose]

ONE FOR SORROW ╱ ch. [1] of counting crows (karasu x f!reader series) August [28] Summer's coming to an end; I wonder if Autumn will bring something (a)new.

FREQUENCY ILLUSIONS are an irritating phenomenon. At least, to you they are. 

It is a well established fact that everyone's brain is constantly bombarded with several scraps of sensory inputs every passing second, an amount far too much for anyone to thoroughly digest. The majority of them will simply slip through the crevices of your mind, flowing out like dew as they trickle away from the branches of your knowledge. The remainders usually manage to hook onto such rooks in the bark, either already familiar with the forms or bonded personally once they clamp onto the roots of your neurons. They repeat themselves throughout, like recurring species of birds (maybe corvids, maybe crows) adorning a sweeping oak tree. And, as it tends to go, the human mind will take keen notes of these repetitions, no matter what they are. 

You imagine that must be why your eyes are trailing Karasu for maybe the twenty second time this month. He steps past your classroom with his hands resting in his pockets in that faux casualty and hair in that strange shape you can't seem to hate. Your eyes lull from beneath your lashes. You don’t know why he’s there, just that, recently, every time he is, you manage to spot him with seamless ease. Something quite abnormal when the scale of your school is considered. 

To think it began with one measly conversation back in July. You can hardly recall what was being discussed; perhaps impending exams, or extracurriculars, or other things that don’t really matter. There’s only one thing you can confidently claim that you did not discuss, which was the way your friendship eroded away over the course of time. It isn’t any surprise, it’s always a universally unspoken habit of everyone to avoid talking about the nature of a relationship. That’s why people are usually so terrible with it. (You might be one of the worst.) 

You forgot how the chat came to be as well. Something tells you it was the fault of the mild overlap of your social circles and the intervention of your best friends, but you aren’t very sure. All you know is that you don’t want to be seeing his face everywhere you go because whatever familiarity stirs only seems to translate into a heavy weight that envelopes your heart. 

“[Last Name], what’s the answer to Question B?” 

Blatantly ignoring the screams of “oh shit” droning on in your head as a resultant of your teachers words, you flick your gaze down at your textbook. The pages are slightly crinkled, little marks indicating where your pen pressed down too hard. 

“Twenty-eight,” you reply in the smoothest tone you can muster, reading the scribbly drawl of your handwriting aloud.

“Correct,” she hums, flipping off the whiteboard pen with a dull click. 

You lull your head on the palm of your hand. In all honesty, you’re mostly just being dramatic. Neither you or Karasu are bitter or anything, you personally just hold an immense disdain to growing up and apart. Whether that is limited to the said boy is something you don’t currently know, or ever intend to, really. 

A small huff escapes from beneath your breath, so faint that you yourself barely manage to hear it. Pondering never does seem to do any good, not when you’re like this anyway. 

A couple more questions and answers sprout within the room as your musings begin to tug on their own curtains. 

The sharp ringing of the bell pierces throughout the school, signifying the long due arrival of break. Only a few seconds pass before the sound is replaced by an eruption of shoes squeaking against the floorboards and scraping of chairs as they slide into their designated spots beneath the desks. 

“Make sure you do Chapter Thirteen everyone,” your teacher calls out to the class, meeting a few words of acceptance and several exasperated groans. The room trickles into emptiness as you take your time packing up, finger twitching mildly as you pull the zip of your bag closed. 

Miriku leans against your desk slightly when she steps over, a smile spread across her lips. “You were staring at Karasu when he walked past.” 

“Huh? No, I wasn’t,” you deny, moreso trying to defend yourself from whatever implications the statement had than the action itself. 

“Liar,” she hums. “What’s up with you and him anyway.” 

“Nothing. I was just surprised, I guess. I’ve been seeing him around a lot recently,” you say honestly, hanging your bag over your shoulder. It brushes against your uniform softly. 

“Noticing …” she muses. 

You jab her playfully in the arm as a response, “Let’s just go, I don’t really wanna stay in this classroom any longer.”

She smirks at your swift change of subject, slinging her arm around you as you both walk out the class, “If you say so then.” You don’t react to the motion, plenty used to her tactile affection. “I do say so.” 

“Anyway,” she began, “Sora said she’d meet us at the rooftop a little late.” 

“Hm, how come?” 

“Something about organising an event with her teacher.”

You blink. “Oh, right. She did mention that.” 

“Mhm.” 

The two of you make your way down the stairs, chattering about idle topics as you weave through the mob of students. The buzz of their conversations blend with yours, causing some words to be lost in translation. 

“Blending greens?” 

“Huh? How’d you get that,” she laughed, the sound coming out like distant bell chimes. “I said I’m gonna buy something from the vending machine. Want anything?” 

“Eh, I’m alright for today.” You paused in thought, a few people brushing past, “I’ll wait by the wall over there since it’s kinda crowded here.” 

“Okay,” she replies before bounding over towards the machine. Its effulgent light illuminates the space ahead of it, spurring a gentle glow to dance over the small cluster of students there. You observe for a moment before stepping in the opposite direction. 

You aren’t too sure what has caused a horde inside, but from the disgruntled complaints you’ve picked up on, it appears to just be the seemingly dull cloudy weather. It’s apparent that this summer has been nothing short of gloom, with glum tufts of clouds constantly wading throughout the sky and prohibiting the sun to shine its radiance upon the land. Frankly though, the matters of the weather have never really bothered you. Save for the rain. 

Your body stiffens the mildest bit as you glance across the wall, spotting an all so exasperated Karasu stare into one of the classrooms with someone else's bag sitting in his hand. You recognise it to be Otoya’s distinctly green one. 

“Hi Karasu,” you greet, eyes drifting away as you lean on the wall beside him. Miriku was now chatting to someone by the vending machine, it was hard to tell whether it was intentional that she was leaving you here momentarily. 

“Hey,” he responded in a lacksidal tone, glancing at you briefly. 

“How’ve you been?” you ask after a long moment.  

“Yeah, good,” he replies. “You?” 

“Fine,” you mutter beneath your breath. You wonder if the word even meets Karasu’s ears. Your gaze flicks over towards him, and for some reason, you begin to feel like every so-called frequent illusion has been nothing but a cover for something you refrain from addressing. 

He sends you a sidelong glance, the blues of his eyes stirring with uncertainty under the weight of your stare.

“Is something bothering you? Ya seem a little off.” 

—

“Is something bothering you? Ya seem a little off,” he asked. 

“Just, didn’t do so well on a test,” you admitted in response, throwing your sweater on carelessly. “You’ve also been acting kinda off anyway.” 

“Hm? You think so?” 

“Yeah, it feels like you’ve been avoiding me a little,” you trail off into a murmur, mild embarrassment playing over your expression. Fortunately, the cloth you shimmy on conceals it, but you still feel the heat creeping along your neck. 

“Oh,” he hummed, a small grin breaking across his lips. “So you’ve missed me?” 

“Hey, don’t twist my words,” you replied, adjusting the jumper as it hugs around your torso.

He chuckled softly before fading into a quiet sincerity, “Sorry, I haven’t been meaning to or anything.” The moment swells. “Soccer has just kept me busy ‘nd stuff,” he added vaguely. 

“Nah, it’s fine.” The leaves crunched as you shifted on your feet, the sound blending into the trees' agitation. A playful smile formed on your face. “Though, I suppose a good compensation would be if you bought me something from the vending machine,” you suggest in faux contemplation, scratching your chin to emphasise the point. 

He let out a huff of amusement, “I suppose so. What d’ya want to buy?” 

“Yakult, obviously,” you said.

—

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me,” you answer easily.

He blinks at you, mumbling a weak word of compliance. He wonders if you know how weirdly difficult it is for him to do; to not think of you.

As you peel yourself away from the wall slowly, you take a discreet glance at him. Sunlight streams in from behind, casting a tender glow across his expression, one entirely incoherent to you now. The light traces along his fine cutting features, and you can only really think about how different he seems to be from a couple years ago. A difference that goes beyond physical appearance and how he carries himself, but not one you could really explain. You imagine that he probably feels the exact same way about you. Something strange, twinged with SORROW twists in the center of your heart at that prospect. Like a needle too precise to ever extract. 

Your eyes flit to the window behind him momentarily. A flash of black goes by, the shape indicating a single crow flying past. You have an inexplicable suspicion that that, too, may become something you start noticing quite frequently in your mind. “See you, Karasu,” you eventually say, walking off to Miriku as her own conversation draws to an end.

“See ya,” he returns, gaze flicking away from your receding figure instinctively. Otoya still seems to be chatting up that girl in the classroom. 

Moments such as these are ones that, unbeknownst to each other, you both actively avoid dwelling too far on. It isn’t as if there is much to think about anyway, for, they simply are what they are. (So it goes.)

authors note ╱ oh brother... we got two yearnatron 3000s here... anyway, swear on my soul my writing will improve as this goes on because 😥 also, in case it was too vague, the interaction between the cuts was a memory

[fairyofprose]

COUNTING CROWS M.LIST Karasu Tabito x F!Reader ╱ High School AU Series Based on the rhyme.

INTRODUCTION

A Corvid Prelude / Info + Prelude

CHAPTERS

One for Sorrow

Two for Mirth

Three for a Death

Four for a Birth

Five for Silver

Six for Gold

Seven for a Secret Untold

Eight for a Kiss

Nine for a Wish

Ten for a Bird you must not Miss

Eleven for Health

Twelve for Wealth

Thirteen Beware it’s the Devil himself

Fourteen for a Care

Fifteen for a Sojourn

Sixteen for a Home

Seventeen finds you Alone

Eighteen for Good Fortune

Nineteen for Justice

Twenty for a sign that the End has Begun

authors note ╱ just to clarify, the majority of these are metaphorical. nobody is dying, nobody is getting pregnant, nobody is turning into the devil (well, kinda) etc.

[fairyofprose]

COUNTING CROWS Karasu Tabito x F!Reader ╱ High School AU Based on the rhyme.

The ways that you and Karasu's relationship develops in the Counting of Crows.

genre ╱ "it's complicated" to lovers, slow (snail pace) burn, magic realism, fluff, mild angst, crack, occasional middle school flashbacks, a story that doesn't take itself tooo seriously (so you shouldn't either lol)

content warnings ╱ this series will include some misunderstandings, potentially crude jokes, characters being bad at feelings, mid writing el oh el, neglectful parenting, magic/folklore, oc's and that's kinda it for now. anyway, just a disclaimer, because i am using a rhyme that has been an oral tradition for several decades, it may not align with the one that you know due to differing variations or other factors.

taglist ╱ @x3nafix, @jellyfish1a, @kaikaikarasu ! (OPEN)

status ╱ ongoing! very intermittent updates, author has NO consistency with fic writing

A CORVID PRELUDE.

Crows are unusual birds, infamous for the peculiarity that trails their every motion like duty. It is what their dark feathers tend to entail, with symbolism entrenched so deeply within them that it could be considered as the shadow of their existence.

Some recognise them for their intelligence and ingenuity. With their mere presence signifying the importance of using one’s mind to navigate and adapt to situations of all kinds—even (or perhaps, especially) those beyond anything particularly ordinary.

Others perceive them as harbingers of change, embodying transformations and the coming of nascent beginnings; the sole company of them indicating an impending shift to arise in one’s life.

And to some, they are considered as messengers of divinity, cast down from the venerable gates of spiritual realms with the purpose of delivering the words that fail to leave one’s lips.

They are a dictionary configured of various orphic proverbs, metaphors, and more that attempt to place a meaning to their name. Some form from the numbers of their flock, and others stem from the way in which they behave. Because humans tend to find patterns in everything, regardless of how baseless they may be.

You yourself never thought they were anything particularly extraordinary, dismissing them as strange birds with stranger superstitions. Every encounter meaning nothing more than any other. But, with the events that passed through time, you couldn’t help but end up second guessing the prospect of it all.

interested? ╱ series masterlist

[fairyofprose]

Just wanted to say ty for liking my Follo story!! Seeing your reblog made me really happy!! 🖤 ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

AHHH NPP!! Honestly, thank you for writing it, I loved it smmm!! It's probably my fav follo oneshot 💕 The dynamic and writing and everything was just so mwah

[fairyofprose]

the concept of backburner follo...

[fairyofprose]

PINING FOOLS pairings ╱ zanka nijiku, tamsy caines, follo tunito x gn!reader warnings ╱ MANGA SPOILERS! self doubt, insecurities from zanka and follo. manipulation, yandere & obsessive behaviour, mentions of killing, cultivating of dependency, t*msy

what does it look like when both of you are mutually crushing on eachother?

ZANKA NIJIKU oblivious scale - 8/10

To start, it's good to establish the fact that Zanka was oblivious to his own crush on you at first. Turning red, butterflies swirling in his stomach, heart floundering pathetically against the confines of his chest? What kind of fever has he come down with...Hopefully it'll go away soon, because he really doesn't want to slack off building his strength in battle...

Don't worry, he eventually realised that you were the only trigger of said illness.

He's the absolute king of mixed signals, like genuinely, one day you'll be thinking that he likes you and then the next you'll be wondering why he's avoiding you like a plague and giving you the most frigid, chilling shoulder to man kind. Does he hate you, or what?

Once he gets better used to his feelings he'll be considerably soft with you though, wearing a small smile when you're around, faint blush adorning his cheeks. He treats you quite kindly when it comes down to it.

Now, moving on, Zanka is by no means stupid, but damn, can he take a hint already? He sometimes considers that you might return his feelings, but that thought usually erodes at the edges due to doubt before being slowly swallowed by his deteriorating self esteem.

He doesn't tend to overthink anything either, mostly just brushing them away. : What's there to ponder on? A lot, actually.

Your eyes trailing over him he's training or fighting? Maybe you see something wrong in his form, he can't seem to muster the courage to ask.

Finding every chance you can to converse with him? Geez, you're pretty chatty (he doesn't mind whatsoever.)

Touching shoulders with him in the jeep? Nearly flush against his side? Well, the roads are pretty bumpy (he doesn't even question why you're always beside him. He's kinda too flustered to think about it.)

Remembering little things about him? He's always known that you were clever and with a proficient memory, he thinks his crush on you might expand.

Playing with his hair when you get bored? He never really thought about it, but it is kind of fluffy. Yeah he's not gonna complain if you do it, or comment on it, or take it as a sign that you like him .

Reassuring him when he needs it in that sweet tone? Like, literally throwing compliments and claims of a deep enduring admiration in his face? You're just so kind aren't you. (He's cheering like a lovesick fool internally, but still doesn't manage to realise that you like him?)

Riyo suggesting that you have feelings for him? She stirs stuff like this all the time, it's hardly anything to dwell on.

Enjin telling him to make a move since you probably like him back? Of course, Zanka will take that into account, we're talking about Enjin here! Though, he does mostly assume that the last part is just his mentor trying to hype him up.

Rudo, RUDO of all people, asking if you guys are dating? Wow, that kid really is a dumbass, is what Zanka would probably think. He might also turn around and giggle for a moment before denying it blankly.

All so intentional hand brushing that happens quite frequently? Well, Zanka isn't atrociously oblivious, it's 8/10 not 10/10! He isn't an absolute dunce, that'll tell him most of what he needs to know... Yeah that specifically for some reason.

After realising, all the several signs just begin to dawn upon him and he'll be dazed for like a good moment.

He'll probably end up confessing a little later on a whim knowing you probably like him back. (The self doubt remains, unfortunately. Hopefully you can expel it once together <3)

TAMSY CAINES oblivious scale - 0/10

Tamsy knows. Dubiety doesn't even get to grace his mind once.

No matter how hard you try to hide it, he'll identify the absolute subtlest of signs seamlessly.

The way your gaze tends to follow him when his back is turned? The way it hooks on the curve of his lips when he talks?

The way your voice pitches a little higher, maybe growing more fond or agitated?

Hell, even the direction of your feet or stance, Tamsy can just tell instantly.

He thinks your crush is cute! Not in the standard manner though, more in a pathetic-squirming-little-bug-at-his-feet-who-he-could-easily-crush-with-a-flick-of-his-shoe kind of cute. Adorable!

When he first comes to this conclusion, he'd probably play with your feelings as personal entertainment.

Just teasing you as much as he can. Poking fun at little things that obviously would make you fall for his perfect facade more.

He'll become more touchy, intentionally brushing past you when he can just to send shivers to prickle up your spine. Hanging off your shoulder when he's bored, easily molding into the shape of your figure.

I imagine he's got pretty cold hands for some reason, so he might just splay them on the back of your neck or side of your face casually to make you jump.

He'll also be a manipulative little bitch and start making you depend on him, just so he can see your face crumble if he ever decides to do something wrong. All for fun!

Then, in the extremely rare case where he begins crushing on you back, it can go one of two ways, depending on how useful you are for him and other circumstances.

ONE. He'll kinda starts to avoid you at all costs. It's such a bother to feel is heart quicken around you and all that nasty stuff. : "Love? Ew! That is SO not what I'm looking for!" - Inner Tamsy probably

Mission paired with you? Semiu's going to have to make some changes quickly.

The jeep is stuffed? You bet he'll be sitting on the opposite side.

You're about to start making conversation? Oh, suddenly he's got a task going on...

Of course, if you observe any of it and happen to slip the matter into a conversation, he will make some adjustments to his behavior to ease your suspicion. After all, you, crushing on him, finding out that he returns your feelings? No, that would certainly get in the way of his masterful schemes. No way in helll.

The crush will probably abate eventually anyway, for him, that is. Not so sure about you...

TWO. Yandere obsessive weird mentally ill disturbing behaviour and thoughts Tamsy....mmmmmmm..... Is it close to canon? Possibly....? (No.) Is it a literal feast for thought? Yes!

His initial playful touchiness that was meant to just get a rise out of you will amplify to something more intimate and possessive, so much so that the other cleaners begin to notice it. They might even begin to think you're dating, and if confronted, Tamsy will just let you fumble over your strings of denial, remaining completely silent with an airy smile.

Anyway, though he was already doing it before as entertainment, he'll actively begin to cultivate a proper dependency in you for him.

Like, wow, you sure are unlucky, tripping over your own feet like that? Don't worry, Tamsy will catch you every. single. time. (Wait, what's that blue string hooked on your foot?)

Oh, a trash beast tore a hole in your uniform? And August is too busy? Guess who's already threading it up for you!

Aww, why're you crying? Stressed? Tired? Injuries? No matter, Tamsy comes with plenty solace.

His intention with it is to make you fall till there is no return, to dig you a grave so deep underground that there is no way you could ever crawl out, that you could ever live a life absent of him.

If he's in the highest degree of obsession, he might even begin to crush all your relationships not involving him, to the point of literal murder. It's all done out of love. (So he says.)

He'd also be content with throwing it all away just to see how enduring your love for him really is after all of this . Like, revealing that he killed someone close to you. Idk man, he's evil and weird and hard to write. Also the biggest red flag known to mankind

FOLLO TUNITO oblivious scale - 6/10

Follo is pretty good at concealing his crush from you. It's not too surprising considering that he's friendly and polite to everyone, plenty used to locking his personal feelings deep below his surface.

That said though, his hands often get a little clammy and the rosiness spreading across his face can betray him from time to time. Still, the only person who seems to notice it is Gris.

When it comes to how he treats you compared to others, it's actually quite the standard. The main difference is how he'll help you before a word even leaves your lips, and just go out of his way to do several things for you.

Need help moving something? He's already doing it for you, not asking anything in return.

You lost something? Yeah he's searching for it with you.

The main thing he really intends to do is become close friends with you so he can, well, just bask in your light from time to time. The thought of a relationship with you is obviously something he desires, but at the same time, he doesn't really actively try for it.

So long as you notice him and his efforts, he's content. (That's what he repeats to himself anyway)

Now, he isn't blind or oblivious per se, he just cannot fathom the concept of you returning your feelings to him. In his mind, he's a faceless mob, and you're ... well, you? Brilliant, dazzling, beautiful you?

And any action that contradicts that, as in signs you probably like him back and actually adore him, he'll overthink it and dissect it to the point that he has no other option but to boil it down to the fact that you were just being as kind as you usually are.

Like, you went out of your way to buy him something that he mentioned briefly? You're quite sweet, and probably do it with most of the cleaners considering how fond of you they are. He should probably return the favour when he can.

And if you attempt to flirt, he'll probably just assume you're messing with him or trying to make him flustered (which does work.)

In the case where it's fairly obvious though, he does pick up signs just fine, but usually it'll be a matter of how long will it take for you to lose feelings?

Follo is easily the type of person to just let you fall out of love and move on, not really wanting to slow you down.

Maybe, if you seem quite interested and make him feel like he's allowed to actually stand by your side as your partner, he'll come around to asking you out.

Otherwise, it's up to you to either let your mutual feelings bloom or wither.

authors note ╱ oh my god follo is actually me. anywayyy, here's my gachiakuta debut post...extremely booty and terrible but wtv. i'll get better, i swear!!!

[g0ssip-gxrl]

𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝟎𝟒. follo tunito

❝ 𝙔𝙊𝙐'𝙍𝙀 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙆𝙀𝙍, 𝙇𝙄𝙌𝙐𝙊𝙍 𝙎𝙐𝙂𝘼𝙍, 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙄𝙈 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙉 𝘼𝙋𝙋𝙇𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙀𝙔𝙀. ❞ 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 ┊growing up and getting bitter with childhood friend Follo Tunito

𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘿𝙄𝙏𝙎 - minor manga spoilers, fem reader, angst slop, unrequited crushes, hurt no comfort, fluff at the start, toxic dynamic if you squint, they kind of hate each other if you squint, follo's kind of an ass, not proof read 2.5k word count

The soft glimmer of early snowfall, lacing a thick sheet of pillowy white deep into the ground, and how it sways in gentle waves. The tiny particles that dance against the cool breeze of winter air, weaving like glittery shadows across a clean cut canvas.

It’s wonder how it stings. The faint sound of sizzling, akin to tiny dribbles of acid, it falls on deaf as it coats itself into the obscurity of an ever growing pile of blurry fluff.

“Aren’t you cold?” You parrot under your breath. An absent question, humiliating enough, long stolen from someone who didn’t even direct it at you.

Your knees are held tight to your chin. Lashes lulled blankly, and body scrunching in on itself. Honestly, not much unlike the snow you’ve spent the better part of an hour watching.

With how the crust of its dome collapses under the weight of your palm. The sound of crunching ice squishing into slush as you flex your trembling fingers into sopping remnants of ice.

Your pupils that darken the longer you stare, numbing to a borderline blindness. It’s the same, sterilized scenery. A calm morning after a particularly bad storm.

You had trudged yourself through wet puddles and damp boots, just to lie about in the caked over equipment of the playground.

The thought process behind it is an unmatched sweetness to the bitter tang teasing your throat. Or the prickles of dense, glob like tears pushing in the corner of your eyes.

Theres a rawness that sears in your vocal cords. And the pain that creeps into the shallow breaths of your lungs feels like icicles settling in between the ridges of your organ lining.

“Yeah. I am cold.” Coughed to no one in particular. A scratchy, pathetic sound, urged on by the dry atmosphere that freezes over any semblance of humidity.

A small sniffle cuts through your silence.

You don’t even catch it’s yours before the distant whirling of running heaters and backed up car engines even out in your ears again.

At least not until your face is burning. Eyes clouded in a haze with the over pour of wet tears that globe over your irises like a thick sheen.

How they’re spilling out from your waterline and rolling onto the apex of your cheeks.

Long streams that discolor the pudge of your skin.

And then the sputtering of a disgruntled sob.

Shaken violently from your chest, echoing in a hiccup that falls sudden, like record scratch.

You can hear your teeth clatter in your jaw. Tears now trailing like hot embers down your face.

Frigid winds brush on your skin, and you instinctively hold your body closer to itself. The scratches of your coat zipper leave ashy slashes on your knees.

Your fingers shakily grip into the fabric of your tights. Thin and unlined, until the nylon is clumsily fraying under your nails.

“Are you okay?” His voice calls nervously.

The ringing in your ears had barely subsided when you were suddenly whipping your head up. Eyes still wide and glistening.

His silhouette blocked out the sun. Its rays beaming off and shadowing panes of light across the floor from above the tires you were huddled against.

You nod back without thinking. Fluttering lashes blinking away the last dribbles of tears, though his face scrunches into something you can’t make out from the way they trickle on your cheeks.

“Hi Follo.”

“Why’re you crying?”

You sniffle again, shuffling steadily when he shifts to move beside you. "'s chilly today."

His back slumping on the stiff rubber with a muffled “oomf”, before wobbling to sit atop the bumpy surface.

“Then don’t sit in the snow like that. You’ll get soggy.” His lips pull into a half frown, brows furrowing as his shoulders lurch over when he tilts his body in your direction.

You can’t help the laugh that plays in your throat. Despite the sting that threads in each huff. You giggle a distant “I don’t mind,” and pick lazily with the hem of your skirt.

“…but what if you catch something? I don’t want you getting sick.” he sighs again, words spaced between shivers. His hands shakily cupping over his mouth and exhaling a shallow pant.

“How come you never dress for the weather?”

You watch dully. Still curled up at his feet, and still half way freezer burnt. You’re sure you’re frozen stuck in this position anyway.

With your head craned just slightly, so you gauge the gentle curve of his face, the way his black hair curled at the sides. How hot puffs of steam fan out from the cracks between his fingers.

You wonder very distantly, whether his comment was just a courtesy, or something he genuinely noticed.

“One time my mommy said the cold was good for your health.” a numbness pools at the tips of your fingers.

You dig them deeper into the snow anyway. Tracing misshapen stars and smiles under your nails.

“Yeah right,” Follo nudges your arm with his knee, a skeptical smile creasing on his lips, though his eyes don’t share the sentiment, “you probably snuck out without thinking, and now you don’t wanna look silly.”

“...Do you think I look silly?”

It comes out quieter than you expected. Quieter than you had ever intended to come off as.

Because now, when you can see in real time how his face contorts and twists in the subtle arch of his brows, or the flat shape his expression suddenly takes. Like he was using all his energy to comprehend what you had just asked.

The words start to echo louder, bouncing in the hollow confines of your mind.

"Have you been out here for a while?” and when he speaks, so plainly, like the topic died on his tongue, there’s a second you can feel a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding, release.

“An hour or two.” You mutter absently. As if it’s obvious. Like two hours ago wasn’t 5 am, or it wasn’t pitch black when you left your house this morning.

Though that reality feels less gloomy when he gasps. Whatever half astonishment and half concern sounds like. And a smile pulls on your cheeks.

“Weren’t you lonely waiting that long?”

Yes.

“No.” You exclaim, perking your head up and tilting it back so you could see his face, “I thought it was nice.”

“…Really?” You can see from the way his eyes haze over, features falling flat, that he’s either mulling over how, or why.

“Yes, ‘really’,” a puffy pout hollows on your cheeks, brushing off the build of up snow that piled on your coat before haphazardly dusting it in his direction, “It was super peaceful. I almost fell asleep.”

“You didn’t look very peaceful when I got here.”

You roll your eyes, shoving his legs away from you like some tiny form of protest. “The air was heavy, so it was hard to breathe." "I guess that makes sense."

He doesn’t respond beyond that. Barely even offers you a lazy shrug. Just stares off into the distance, legs swinging back and forth so the heel of his boots bumped rhythmically against the tire.

The quiet has words gone from your head. Whether it’s embarrassment or contentment, you can’t tell, the buzz in your chest feels the same.

Your gaze dips. And you’re hugging your knees to your chest again. Huddling in on yourself till your face is practically buried in the crook of your arms. A shiver runs up your spine, and you poke at the goosebumps that prickle on your flesh.

There’s a deep ache in your stomach. It’s rattling throughout your nerves like a surge of electrified longing. You don’t know what’s choking you up when you call out.

“Hey, Follo?”

“Hey, Follo.” Your voice hums dully. Drawled out with the eerie scratch of metal squeaking in its hinges.

From the splattering of rain that ripple against foggy trenches.

Or the mud that sticks and squelches stickily on the ground.

To the limp swaying of your figure.

Head hung low and rocking slowly with the swing set.

Apparently you’re hell bent on staring at your own shoes. Since you don’t bother looking up at him when he approaches.

He only catches your face because your reflection mirrors in a puddle of water.

Follo isn’t sure what’s worse. The fact you don’t even acknowledge his presence beyond a half assed “hey”, or the fact you don’t even seem phased by him at all.

Even from that bleary image, he can still make out that bored gloss in your eyes.

The kind that isn’t clear whether it’s teetering on disappointment or no impression all together.

His grip on his umbrella tightens instinctively, and his face twitches.

The smile he pinned on his lips ends up twisting into something a little nastier.

He tries to keep it from reaching his voice before he greets you back. In the back of his head he can still hear a faint twang of annoyance.

“Hey.” He manages to mutter. Though, despite the weather, his throat suddenly feels dry. There’s something about this situation thats clawing at his discretion. “You doing okay?”

“Mhm. Why?"

He tries to hide his unease under the sound of sloshing mud.

Picking up a good glob of it under his soles when he shifts to lean his back against the metal pipes of the play set. It rattles with your movement, and pushes wet stains on his coat. Then you lift your head to look at him, perking up like you had just noticed he was there. Unbothered and flat, even though you're getting drenched on. "Because you're sitting in the rain." He says without concern. Something petty in his heart wants to add a "you're not gonna ask me back?", but thats something he'd never entertain outside his own thoughts. "Yeah." You rub your eyes from the water that clumps in your lashes. The fleeting remnants of your mascara smudge between your knuckles, "I forgot my umbrella." "Then why didn't you go straight home?" your hollow laugh follows his words. The way you shrug like its nothing, and that guilty smile on your lips, like this is the most mundane thing ever. His ever growing irritation flares a little more. "I lost track of time." that doesn't even answer his question. He stops himself from responding. More because he doesn't wanna let something bad slip out, less because he knows this bitterness is completely unfounded. At least its calmer in the quiet. Like this, where the storm rumbles the background, and the rain drowns out any unpleasant buzzing that numbs between the two of you.

Follo ignores the tension that shudders in his shoulders. The veins in his hands flexing when he takes a deep breath in. It doesn't help much. Not with the stench of petrichor and the overwhelming strong waft of your perfume overriding his sense. He takes another one anyway.

"You're gonna get sick." "Do you care?" You laugh it off, again. Its sharper though. Amplified by the screech left hollowly in the atmosphere when you stop swinging.

He wonders whether thats intentional on your part. "Not really."

oops.

His mouth zips shut faster than those words came out. Body stiffening and features pulled back tight. Like he was trying to figure out who's voice that was. Because it doesn't feel like his. He hadn't even realized he'd been staring.

Not until a slew of your image comes flooding in flashes. How your shirt clings half transparent to your chest. The sopping layer of your jacket thats slipped off your shoulders and weigh in the crook of your arms.

The speckles of mud that stick to your thighs and stain on your calves.

Sadly enough, distant memory of scrapped skin and spilled blood on snow flickers briefly in his eyes. The dim that casts over your expression.

Though in reality, he knows it isn't much different from the way you've grown to look at him.

That festering of dark ink that suddenly bloomed on the untainted fragments of your friendship.

Whether it was a gradual deterioration that naturally frayed with age, or an epiphany that dawned on you and he just hadn't noticed. It's a mystery to him.

Why you're indifference settled, or why you started treading two steps behind from the group. Till you eventually stopped coming around all together.

It's been like this for years now.

He tells himself, the grey that shadows over your face whenever you see him these days, is from the weather.

"Then why'd you bring it up." You sound annoyed. Or exasperated. He could just be projecting. "...I dunno," he tries to keep from returning the energy. Body slumping and dipping his head low "It's just something people say."

The stiffness that drags on your limbs like lead, forcefully cracking when you maneuver yourself to gauge up at him. Your chin resting on your palm as you leaned your weight onto your knees.

"Right," you try to sound fonder than you feel, "you're so practical, Follo." "Sure," He coughs up a half laugh, and it dies as quickly as it erupted, "- It's not like anyone listens to me though."

His face falls into something uncertain. Just like it always does. His own pride won't let him admit he's developed his own disinterest towards you as well. You just like to think you're both on the same wavelength. It's a comfort neither of you address. Because that ache you used to choke yourself sick over has only gotten more aggressive. Like a rot that only gates to an abyss. Fed with the incredibly grim reality that; he doesn't think of you, at all. He never has.

For the sake of this ever decaying bond.

Even though his company feels like a suffocating obligation, and your distain towards him only serves as a testament to his fractured ego.

"Is she giving you a hard time again?" You ask reluctantly. Your answer is given when he doesn't respond, not right away at least.

"Nah, she's got her own thing going on now." Follo shrugs after his pause, a breath heavy in his chest. You can't tell if he's lying or not when he says no.

"Why?" He adds after a bit. Something sour simmers in your gut. Like bile that sneakily creeps into your mouth. "Why else would you wanna hang out?" And suddenly the storm is becoming all too present, "It's all you ever talk about."

His eyes lull from under his lashes. Lips pulled flat and cracked dry. His throat feels scratchy and raw in absence. Maybe it's testing to the scattering of quarter empty thoughts that plague his headspace.

The feeling of rain rolling off the arch of his back. Bouncing on his jacket and hitting droplet after droplet like a vice.

The length of his pants now soggy and caked with grime. His hair now drenched and trailing humid streaks of rain down his neck. He tips his umbrella over your head like it does something. "I just wanted to see you."

[x3nafix]

how it GENUINELY feels to be a karasu fan rigjt now because of the newest chapters

[fairyofprose]

my entire YEAR has been brightened tbh.

[fairyofprose]

Omg I just realised I have come across ur work before 😭

ANOTHER HONOURABLE MOOTI 🥹🥹🥹

YAyayyayayayyay I feel very honoured