-> Topics I don't (and never will) write: Yandere, Pedophilia, Rape, Incest, etc.
More info about me…? Hm…
📆 STARTED WRITING ON: December 7, 2021
📆 BIRTHDAY ON: MAY 17
Wanna be part of my crew? 🪭
🎀 Anons: NONE
Welcome! Are you new? A regular? Wanna get some coffee together some other time? Or… maybe buy me a coffee? ☕️
And the author’s yapping…
Havin’ a hard time choosin’, huh? Wanna check out the fics, one-shots, imagines, and others I wrote? Check this ouuut! I bet you’re going to love it! I split it into two sections, new and old, well, I’m known for disappearing and appearing with a burst of motivation ~ Huh, it’s pretty bad but y’know, writers needa have a break, too, y’know? I got a life. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
Zanka had always been known as someone who works hard—only to be surpassed or never enough.
That’s why praises from Enjin would make him happy, because it reassures him that he’s doing well, doing enough.
But then, you came. So sudden that his brain couldn’t even function but his heart was beating faster than he could ever dodge Rudo’s bites.
For the first time, although he will never admit—you were far more stronger than he was.
But for some reason, he wasn’t feeling inferior—not feeling like he wasn’t good enough. For the first time he didn’t hurt himself, pressure himself to being better.
He admitted to himself that you were the best.
He admired you.
It confused him how someone better than him made his heart feel lighter than heavier—and the way you spoke as if you were both equal made him fall even harder.
Maybe it will be something he will never admit, but he loves the fact he doesn’t get an ache knowing you were better.
Not better than his Lovely Assistaff, though.. Just kidding.
Just thinking.. You’re running around in the rain with your enemy, just because you said you wanted to heal that inner child of yours. You’ve always loved the rain, and he suddenly walked outside and lets the droplets fall on his oh-so-annoying gorgeous face. He smiles slightly seeing your face and shock. But then you let yourself enjoy this moment with him, at least for a little while.
You giggle, running out of the building that you both stayed in just so you wouldn’t be drenched, but now both of you are. Your laugh and rambling blended with the sound of the rain. He had his hands on his pockets, his hair falling perfectly despite being wet. He looked gorgeous, and he thought of that about you, since the very beginning.
When the rain stopped, you both were getting stares from passersby’s who were surprised seeing you both soaked from head to toe. You were slightly embarrassed but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were happy.
“My mom’s gonna kill me,” you comment, trying to squeeze out the water from the sweater that you wore—as if it were helping to dry faster. “Let’s buy you new clothes,” he commented, walking away so nonchalantly that it left you flabbergasted. “What?!” You say in surprise, standing frozen in place.
“We can’t leave you like that can we?” He stops in his tracks, turning his head to you. His face looked so punchable, the smugness dripping in his tone. But—it felt nice. “C’mon,” he tilts his head, as if motioning to start walking. You catch up, walking behind him.
—Somehow, even your worst enemy could care for you more than a lover.
like idk why but when I saw Ifa for the first time I swear my eyes turned into hearts. Why is this man a 4 star?! He’s legit the reason why I played again.
Hello mei! I was wondering if you would continue the spiderken series ever?
I’m so shocked at how many months it has been since I’ve created that, I had a rush of motivation that time but it slowly died down. There are so many turn of events happening in my life right now that interrupts my flow of constantly posting. I’m sorry, maybe not now but hopefully when I have the urge to finish it, then most likely! But for now, I think it’s best for me to post oneshots or short scenarios.
I’d love it for you all to request! I can see that there are improvements in my writing so hopefully I can fit to all your expectations! There will be an expansion of the fandoms I write for. Thank you so much for understanding~ 💕
Your kind-hearted captain has taken it upon herself to stoke the flames of love between you and Soshiro!
Warnings: none
Captain Mina Ashiro may act aloof, but she wasn’t blind. Anyone in the Third Division could see that you and Soshiro were the perfect match for each other. If neither of you were going to make the first move, it was only right that she, as your trusted leader, guided you in the right direction. Only, of course, after assessing the situation to make sure you two really did like one another.
*Click*
Her phone captured a snapshot of you at lunch one day, laughing at something Kafka had said. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were creased with joy—you looked positively radiant. Mina made her way to Soshiro’s office, eager to begin her investigation.
“Captain,” Soshiro saluted, “to what do i owe the pleasure?”
“Just stopping by. Checking on the status of your report from last week.”
“It’s almost done. I’ve been hard at work,” Soshiro grinned, sticking his pointer fingers out.
He’s in a pleasant mood. Let’s see if that changes.
“Good. I also came to show you a new picture of Bakko from the other day.”
It was a plausible excuse; Soshiro was a fan of cats as well and Mina was known for subjecting her friends and subordinates to monologues about how cute Bakko was. The vice captain was now standing by her side, peering over her shoulder at the phone in her hand.
“Here it is—oops! Wrong picture.”
Your picture was the one currently being displayed and from her peripheral vision, she saw Soshiro gulp ever so slightly, his eyes opened a bit wider. She was in no hurry, taking her time to slide her finger over the screen to the “correct” photo.
“Sorry about that. It was a cute photo, though, wasn’t it? Didn’t y/n look nice?”
“Huh? Yeah. I mean, sure,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears a rosy hue.
Now for the real test.
“I’d never seen them laugh so hard, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re around Kafka, right?”
There was an immediate shift of mood in the room, tension filling the open space like a dam had burst. Soshiro had gone from blushing to bloodthirsty in a millisecond and Mina was thankful she’d been blessed with a poker face or else she’d be bursting in laughter at his very apparent jealousy.
“If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I should finish this report.”
Soshiro saluted her again before sitting at his desk and Mina took her leave.
Well, that was informative.
Now she knew that Soshiro definitely harbored a crush for you and a hatred for Hibino. As she walked down the empty hallway, she let a small smile grace her lips.
She loved love.
Mina did the exact same experiment to you a few days later. As a fellow cat enthusiast, you were very excited at the prospect of seeing new Bakko content, quickly taking a seat next to your captain. This time around, she had managed to take an extremely flattering picture of Soshiro during training. He was standing outside, slightly flushed from the previous physical exertion, with one hand on his hip and the other pushing his hair out of his face.
Maybe if I ever retire I’ll become a photographer.
“…and there’s Bakko-oops. Not this.”
Your mouth was partially agape and she spied how you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man on the screen. His tight fitting shirt hugged every curve of every muscle. His physique and pose were reminiscent of a model you’d see on a billboard in downtown Tokyo or on a runway in Paris.
“T-that’s a great picture you got of Vice Captain,” you breathed out in awe. “He looks so… hot.”
“If you’re into that sort of look, sure,” she answered.
“I definitely am,” you said dreamily, clearing your throat with embarrassment when you realized you said that out loud. “I mean, yeah. If someone was… hypothetically, like… into that sort of… thing.”
Mission 100% accomplished; they’re very much into each other.
Next up was the hard part of figuring out how to get confessions from the two of you without meddling too much. That’s why she was hoping today’s training, with you being partnered with Kafka, would be enough to stir up those same feelings and visceral reactions you both had while looking at the photos of each other not that long ago. So far, it was working splendidly. Kafka would say or do something ridiculous, causing you to howl with laughter and Soshiro to shoot Kafka a burning glare that could rival the intensity of a wildfire. Meanwhile, Soshiro would take his frustration out on the sparring training dummies, in turn leaving you dumbstruck at the way he moved so majestically and remained the most handsome man on earth, even in a state of sweaty exhaustion. When training was finally over, Mina couldn’t slow the buildup of anticipation deep inside her, eager to see the lovebirds admit their feelings, or at the very least, converse with each other. Neither of those things happened; you and Soshiro didn’t even exchange eye contact before going your separate ways.
Mina frowned. Didn’t she plant the seeds of attraction, water the foundations of a relationship, nurture the-
Looking back, I guess I didn’t do all that much.
“L/n.”
You turned around immediately at the sound of your captain’s voice, saluting as the dark haired woman approached you. You had just finished showering after a grueling day of exercise and were on your way to your room to get some much needed rest
“Come with me, please.”
“Right now?” you asked incredulously, eyes raking over the cat pajamas you were sporting. “Should I change into my uniform really quick?”
“No need,” she replied, “it’ll only be a moment:”
“Alright then.”
You were thoroughly confused but who were you to question your captain? You followed behind her dutifully, like a child following their mother to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk after a nightmare. Your eyebrows knit in confusion as she brought you into Soshiro’s office. He, too, had just showered, but he had changed into a fresh tracksuit, presumably because he never stopped working.
“Captain! What can I do for… you?” Soshiro faltered when he saw you peek out from behind Mina.
“I’m horribly underdressed for whatever’s happening. I sincerely apologize,” you said, bowing your head as to not meet his eyes. You weren’t that far below Soshiro’s rank, being a Platoon Leader, but you didn’t want your superior seeing you in such a state of disarray with your wet hair and casual attire in the office. Soshiro, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all.
“Y/n! I didn’t see you back there at first. I like your pajamas, cats are always a good choice.” His fanged smile brought you a sense of comfort.
“Thank you.”
You two would’ve gotten lost in each other’s eyes if it weren’t for Mina reminding you she was still there.
“Let me explain what’s going on. Y/n, Soshiro likes you. Soshiro, y/n likes you.”
It was so silent you could hear a pin drop from across the base. You and Soshiro broke eye contact at breakneck speed, becoming self conscious and wary.
Mina was confused. Weird. Aren’t they supposed to kiss or something, like how it happens in books?
“I’ll leave you to it. Good night.”
Mina practically ran out of Soshiro’s office, getting hit with a whole slew of mixed emotions as she made her way to her own office. Was she wrong for getting involved in her subordinates’ love lives? Did she somehow misread the signals you both were giving off? Was her conclusion incorrect, leading her to be labeled a fool, unfit for a leadership position? She fretted all night thinking about the lack of response you and Soshiro had about the great news. The next morning, as she got ready, she thought of all the ways she could explain her behavior and hoped this situation wouldn’t lead to her getting fired (worst case scenario) or you and Soshiro feeling awkward around each other (bad case scenario). You two worked extremely well together, neutralizing kaiju with just glances and nods, no words needed, and she’d never forgive herself for ruining such a good team.
Mina fiddled with her jacket one last time before lifting her chin up and making the trek to her office to start the day. To her surprise, the door was ajar, you and Soshiro apparently waiting for her arrival.
Goodbye Third Division, hello HR…
“Captain,” you began, “Soshiro and I really appreciate what you were trying to do for us, but-”
“I overstepped my boundary,” she cut in. “I’m ashamed that I let my self control slip and I put my subordinates, the people in my care, in an uncomfortable position. I don’t know if I can ever regain your trust again, but I swear that I-”
“Captain.”
This time it was Soshiro who spoke out of turn. “My deepest apologies for interrupting you, but you don’t need to be sorry. Your intuition was correct—y/n and I do like each other.”
Mins could’ve cried tears of happiness hearing that, especially knowing that her job wasn’t at stake anymore, but her joy was turned to confusion when she noticed you and Soshiro share a glance, making a wordless agreement, and then both reaching into your shirts…?
She watched with curious eyes as a chain entered your grasp, previously hidden from view under your shirt, a small ring hanging down from it. Soshiro did the same, a matching ring gleaming under the fluorescent lights. It was then that the inquisitive, intelligent, intuitive captain made the connection—
“Soshiro and I are married,” you said, sheepishly glancing over at your husband. Now it was Mina’s turn to be deadly silent. However, you could tell she wasn’t upset, she was busy comprehending everything that was revealed to her.
“We didn’t tell anyone,” explained Soshiro, “because we didn’t want it to become an issue at work. In retrospect, we could’ve hidden it a bit better.”
He scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Though Kafka doesn’t ever seem to get the hint.”
“But we know we can trust you with our lives and we should’ve at least told you. I’m sorry for lying to you, Captain Ashiro,” you said, your head hanging low.
That’s when you heard the strangest sound.
Captain Mina Ashiro… was laughing?
“This was an interesting turn of events,” she eventually said, catching her breath. “It turns out I was correct, but not in the way I thought.”
She strutted over to her desk, sitting down and starting the computer. “If that’s all you had to report, then you’re dismissed. It’s time to go to work.”
She looked up one last time, quirking an eyebrow. “Or are you on your honeymoon?”
summary. when he got sick at the beginning of the week, you took care of him. now, it's you who's sick —and it's his turn to return your favor.
content. fem!reader, fem pronouns used, pure fluff, boy next door!sakura, everyone likes teasing the poor boy when he blushes. inspired by s2 ep17. a bit ooc, i think.
author's note. im whipped. im down bad. im head over heels . i knowwwwiknow but hes just so cute icant.. love him sm.. little kitty boy (kaji too)... :(( also im not 100% happy with how this turned out but ive been thinking about a scene like this so much i needed to write it
𝜗𝜚 english isnt my first language, so any corrections or advice are highly appreciated, as well as feedback (please) ! enjoy
you are sick.
not figuratively —you really are. you’ve caught the flu, a nasty cold, or whatever virus that's left you bedridden, feverish, for so many hours that they feel like eternity.
when it started, you thought you were sneezing so frequently because you were allergic to something, since spring had just begun. however, it only got worse as the week went on, until you ended up in the state you’re in now.
body sprawled on the futon on the floor —your arm is folded in a weird way, your legs half under half out of the blanket—, it’s the only position you’ve found that lets you be even a little comfortable and breathe without choking every two minutes. your skin is paler than usual, except for your face, flushed pink and covered in a thin sweat layer.
you’re on the edge of delirium.
you should have seen this coming. no, you actually did see it coming, but you had such a busy week —working extra hours at the restaurant at nights, repainting the facade of the establishment after some vandals had graffitied the wall, assisting all your classes and doing all your homework—, you'd had no time for worrying about getting sick or getting medicine.
besides, taking into account that your daily life is on the other side of the city —you live in your apartment, if it can even be called like that, only because the rent is affordable for you—, the time you spend just going to school and work and coming back home takes a considerable part of your day.
plus, at the start of this week, your next door neighbor had gotten sick too —and every free time of your days had been spent on taking care of sakura.
you didn’t even think about the possibility of him giving you the flu until you woke up this morning. work was already hard yesterday —even your boss had sent you home before your shift ended, since he could see how tired you looked—, and you hadn't slept more than two full hours, so all you were able do in the morning was send a text to your coworkers to ask for someone to cover your shift today and fall asleep again.
four hours later of feverish dreams and a very uncomfortable mix of heat and cold going throughout your whole body, you are so thirsty and hungry you could eat a whole menu from the restaurant you work in. however, getting up seems almost impossible in the state you are in, so you let yourself lay under the blanket a while more.
you’re about to fall asleep again, ignoring the cries for help of your stomach, when you hear the door of your apartment open.
there’s no greeting, no warning, no announcement about who just entered without permission. but only a few people have a key to your place, so the list of suspects is short —still, of all the possible people, you definitely didn’t expect to see sakura haruka standing in the cramped little space that makes up your room.
“i brought you something.” is all he says before sitting cross-legged on the floor beside you, placing a plastic bag full of things in his lap and beginning to pull things out one by one.
sakura is your next-door neighbor. he moved to the apartment beside yours at the beginning of the school year, just as alone in his place as you were in yours. at first, he came off as cold —maybe even a little rude— but it didn’t take long for you to realize he was just shy, especially around people who offered help without expecting anything in return.
your first interaction had been on an especially cold evening during his first week living there. you had heard him through the wall, cursing softly and clearly frustrated —mumbling something about not figuring out how to get the hot water working. you were pretty sure he even punched the wall out of frustration after his third cold shower.
so you showed up at his door, holding a slice of leftover cake from the restaurant as a welcome gift and offering your help —partly because you’re a decent person, but mostly because you were worried the building might not survive more than a couple more punches.
“i can’t cook anything for you,” he's saying now. a few months have passed since you met “but i brought instant soup. i didn’t know what flavor you liked, so i grabbed one of each. just in case.”
he spreads the contents of the bag on the floor —six different packs of soup, a few bottles of water and sugary drinks, cold compresses for the fever, some medicine, vitamins, and a single flower.
you manage a weak smile.
“thank you” your voice is thick with congestion. it requires you making a great effort to extend your arm, and point to the end of the row of things on the floor “i get the food, the clothes and the pills. what’s the flower for, though?”
you are too exhausted to lift your head and look at him, but you’re sure he’s blushing when he answers.
“umemiya told me to give it to you. said it would help you feel better.”
he’s clearly flustered —you can hear it in his voice— and probably grateful you can’t see how red his face is right now.
you chuckle softly.
“it does.” you say “it’s really pretty. thank you, sakura.”
and the poor guy is now blushing even harder.
he found out you were sick this morning. usually, he would hear your door every morning before he left for school —you always left earlier than him, since your classes and your job are both on the other side of the city. but today, there was only silence. no sound of the coffee machine, no rustling clothes, no soft curses about running late.
he might’ve ignored it, but he remembered you telling him how busy this week would be, how you couldn’t afford to miss classes with exams just around the corner. you had said all that while taking care of him when he was sick —thinking he was asleep. but he heard every word.
so when he saw light under your door and knocked with no response, he panicked. he didn’t care about being late to class, no one in furin would really care. so he grabbed the emergency key you’d given him just in case and let himself in.
the apartment was dark, except for the faint glow coming from under the door of your bedroom. you didn’t answer when he called your name —quietly, not wanting to startle you— so he stepped inside.
then he saw you
you were huddled under the blanket, your phone still in your hand like you’d fallen asleep waiting for a message or a call. your limbs stretched out across the futon, half uncovered, as if the heat was unbearable —but you were shivering like you were freezing.
it was more than obvious you were sick, but he didn’t want to wake you. you looked anything but peaceful, but you also looked exhausted, and he knew how hard your week had been. so he just stood there for a moment —then quietly stepped back out.
later, across town at furin, sakura was so distracted thinking about you, he tripped over suo twice during patrols.
“what’s bothering you, sakura?” suo asked, catching his arm before he could fall again. “you look worried.”
the two-colored-hair guy stood up straight, freeing himself from his friend's grasp —again, and mumbled a "thank you", avoiding his gaze.
“it’s nothing. just...” he’d told them about you before, but mentioning you in front of his classmates still made him go red. “yn’s sick, and i want to help her”
suo raised a brow.
"oh, i see." he said, a grin growing on his face.
“i mean, because she helped me when i was sick. and i want to return her the favor, i owe her.” sakura added quickly, now flustered.
it’s tsugeura who intervened then.
"yn? the neighbor you're always talking about?”
“i don't always talk about her!" sakura protested.
right then, as if summoned by some invisible signal, nirei, kiryu, and the others turned around, stopping dead.
"she's sick? seriously?" nirei asked, already pulling out his phone like he was about to write down a shopping list.
overwhelmed, sakura could only nod.
"i want to bring her something to help her feel better."
so, when returning to the class with the rest of his classmates, sakura found himself stuck in the middle of an impromptu meeting, surrounded by half his class in a discussion about what to bring you to feel better.
“we should buy some medicines and vitamins for her!” nirei was saying, his concern genuine.
he didn’t even know you personally—none of them did. but since their grade captain seemed completely smitten for you, they were all too happy to help out on his behalf.
“she was shivering but looked flushed?” suo asked after hearing sakura’s description of how he had found you “sounds like a fever. we should get some cold compresses, and medicine too”
“eating is important too, in case she wakes up hungry” kiryu added “soup could be good. and a drink she likes, sugary for her to regain strength.”
the conversation spiraled for a while, everyone adding something new they should bring to their grand captain’s neighbor —who was, definitely, not as excited as them.
it was not only the worry for your wellbeing now, it was a tight, bitter feeling in his stomach. if he had to define the sensation, he would have catalogued it as very uncomfortable and very weird.
because he didn’t like the idea of his classmates —his friends, he reminded himself— taking care of you, or buying things for you, at all. he knew they were just trying to help him, but going to your apartment and looking after you personally?
no. he didn’t want that.
first of all, sakura didn’t want them to meet you at all. yes, he’d told them about you several times —when you helped him with the hot water of the shower, the times you’ve brought him leftover desserts from your restaurant because you know he likes them, or when you went to his house, despite having a very busy day and being tired, to make sure his fever was going down and that he was eating properly.
sakura never let on how much you meant to him —but you’re precisely that: part of his life, not theirs. and maybe it wasn’t fair, but he didn’t want to share you.
second of all, he didn’t want you to meet them either. he would never say it out loud, but the thought terrified him —that you’d fall for suo’s kindness, nirei’s soft smile or kiryu’s charm; that you’d just realize that everyone has something better than him.
more than anything, he just wanted to stay your favorite.
was that selfish?
“i will do it.” he said, then, cutting off the class' whole conversation “i’ll buy everything you said, and go take care of her myself. after all, it’s me who gave this virus to her.” all the eyes moved to him in this new silence. then he realized he might had appeared ungrateful, so he added —“and, um. thank you all. for your help.”
none of his classmates answered, though. he felt a little intimidated by the silence.
suo was grinning, kiryu had raised an eyebrow, and tsugeura was the one who asked out loud what everyone was thinking —“¿what do you mean you gave the virus to her?”
sakura found himself out of words for a few seconds.
“well, she took care of me when i was sick, too.” he finally said, looking away “i told her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted on staying the night with me in case my fever raised while asleep. i think she got it then."
“oh. so she stayed the night at yours?”
suo laughed. tsugeura asked again.
“and how close were you two, for her to get your sickness too?”
sakura realized then what they were implying. his cheeks got tinted by a pale shade of pink when he shook his head, panicked.
“no! no, it’s nothing like that. she just… she helped me, that’s all. i didn’t event want her to, my plan was to wait until i felt better, but she insisted on staying…”
but there was no turning back now. during the rest of the morning, the only thing sakura received was a constant teasing from his classmates —it was so bad, that at the end of the school day, before going back home, umemiya reached him to give him a flower for his sick girlfriend, who would definitely appreciate it, and it would make her feel better.
so here he is now, telling you how all his classmates —all his friends— helped him to choose what he had to bring for you, his cheeks and nose slightly flushed and his hand absentmindedly on the back of his neck.
and, even after the soup and emptying a whole bottle of water, your forehead is still hot and the fever remains blurring your thoughts. so, now looking him at his eyes —thinking how cute he looks when he isn’t able to hold your gaze— you don’t rethink it when straightly saying out loud:
“you look so pretty when you blush.”
and you know you’ve messed him up, because he’s blushing even harder, and he stutters when telling you about his journey on the search of the best soup flavor.
you can't but let slip a low giggle when he finishes his story.
“thank you so much for coming, sakura.” you thank him, knowing well he isn’t able to say anything right now —you've never seen anyone get so timid after a compliment “i mean it.”
still shy, he lowers his head and looks at his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
“it’s nothing, really. i’m just returning you the favor, for helping me when i was sick.”
you both know that’s not true at all, but none of you mentions it. you play along, then —“still. im glad you’re taking care of me, even if it’s just because you feel you owe me.”
sakura waits a few seconds before answering this one. he has stopped playing with his shirt, and is now distracted folding the clothes he used as cold compresses.
he mumbles, almost unintelligibly, his reply.
“i’m taking care of you because i do care about you.”
you giggle at his cheeks becoming even redder after his word.
“what did you say? i think i didn’t hear you, sorry.” you ask, teasing him a little.
there's a moment of silence after that—not awkward, but warm, lingering.
sakura has gone quiet again. you’re both still, the soft hum of your room’s air-conditioning the only sound between you. his gaze flickers to yours for a second, then drops to his hands again. you can see his fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt again, then still, as if trying to gather courage.
the air feels different now —not fever-warm, but tender.
to your surprise, he suddenly raises his head, and fixes his gaze on yours —grey and gold eyes shining under the warm light of your room. looks like he's lost all shyness, even if only for a moment.
“i said i do care about you. not only for a favor.” sakura repeats, now louder. and right after, all the courage he gathered seems to disappear from his body, because he, again, looks away “and i want you to feel better… so that you can, uh, come with and try that omurice im telling you about all the time."
you raise a brow. he does the same, but he looks funny, because his gaze is on the door of the closet —it looks like he's trying to tease your clothes, and not you.
“unless you don’t wanna come, of course, but i assure you you’d be missing the opportunity of a lifetime.” he adds.
a soft chuckle leaves your lips, and you can’t help it —mirroring his, your cheeks turn a pale shade of pink that has nothing to do with the fever that finally starts disappearing.
since he opened your window, the birds’ whistling fill the room as background noise, sun rays tickling your exposed skin —you have long forgotten the blanket, due to the heat of the apartment, on a corner of your room.
you’re sitting on the futon now, hands playing with the only compress he didn’t yet fold. you are not really sure of how, or when, has the atmosphere become so intimate, but you feel the need to whisper the next time you talk.
“yeah, sakura.” you say, eyes lingered on his black and white down eyelashes. suddenly, you feel too flustered to look at him in the eyes.
it's an answer to the question he hasn't yet asked.
“yeah, what?” he asks, looking at you again. “you don’t wanna come?”
you shake your head, then smile sweetly.
“yeah, i would be missing the opportunity of a lifetime if i didn’t try that omurice you tell about all the time, going on a date with you.”
sakura doesn't respond immediately.
in fact, you’re pretty sure you just broke him —he just stares at you, stunned, as if unsure if whether you just said was real or part of your fever's delirium. but then, very slowly, he smiles.
it's small, shy, but completely sincere. and for a second, it feels as if the warmth in your face isn't from the fever anymore—but from him, and the way he looks at you like you are his opportunity of a lifetime.
you both stay quiet for a while, wrapped in warmth, in sunlight, in something that feels a lot like a beginning. small smiles in both your faces, as if sharing a secret no one but you know about.
you can’t help but stare.
he looks so pretty —cheeks tinted pink, two colored hair disheveled, pressed reddish lips due to bashfulness, the collar of his white plain shirt revealing part of his collarbones.
you had thought he was handsome, the first time you saw him, carrying boxes into his new apartment. then you discovered he was more on the cute side, after getting to know him and learning how sweet he is —even despite his tsundere personality.
as if refuting your trail of thoughts, he breaks the eye contact and you let out a sincere, soft giggle.
“cute.” you say, a smirk on your face.
“shut up.” his face is, again, all red under the black and white frame of his hair. he mumbles “you’re cuter.”
then he gets up, still avoiding your gaze —that follows him, entertained, as he picks up the empty bowl of soup and carries it to the kitchen. after leaving it on the sink, he takes the medicine and a bottle of water, and passes them to you.
“come on, now, take your meds,” your expression says it everything, disgust clear on your face when he brings the pill to you. he raises both brows, and now it’s his turn to smirk “or, i will not be able to take you on that date you talk about.”
you groan as a complain, but still take the pill he’s offering you, and swallow it with a long sip of water, obediently.
as he walks back toward the kitchen, you can’t help but smile softly.
“if this is how you’re going to take care of me, i might have to get sick more often.”
sakura chuckles, and doesn't hesitate before replying —his voice coming lightly from behind the kitchen door, where you can’t see his face.
“are you sure about that?” he calls back “that’s a shame, ‘cause my mom always said sick people couldn’t get kisses —and i’m not really the type to go against her advice.”
you roll your eyes, grinning, with no comeback on the tip of your tongue at all. he wins this one, surprisingly.
you never thought you’d end up falling for the shy kitty-looking boy next door —but your heart’s not exactly complaining.
masterlist.
pls lmk what u think in the comments, reblogging, through messages, asks or wtv!! feedback is important to me in these first posts and i'd appreciate it a lot 🤲🏼
min ho who claims to hate you, insists that you're the most annoying, bothersome person in his life, but is also the one who knows every little thing there is to know about you.
min ho who complains that you talk too much, that he's never given a moment of peace whenever you're around because of your incessant yapping, but he's the first person to bring up the latest episode of your favorite show. the topic sends you into an unstoppable spiral, has you going on and on and on that you don't even have the time to think about how he knew there was a new episode to begin with. min ho rolls his eyes once your rambling ends, makes a quip about how he didn't know you'd talk that much, and acts as if he hadn't been listening intently to every word that came out of your mouth. like he didn't ask you questions, brought up details from past episodes that he knows would get you to talk more.
min ho who drags you through the mud for being such a picky eater, eyes the vegetables you shove to the side of your plate with disdain, but he wordlessly reaches into your plate to pick out everything you don't like before you can do it. he leaves just enough of it, though, if he knows it's not something you're allergic to. he doesn't give you the chance to whine, claiming that your not eating of those nasty veggies is the reason for your skin breaking out. but really, min ho just wants you to eat something healthy for once.
min ho who comments on your less than decent grades, borderline making fun of you, but he gives you a copy of his meticulously written notes complete with a set of practice problems. he tells you to meet him in the library after your classes, and you find him in one of the tables tucked at the very back, away from prying eyes. he's got almost every inch of the table's surface covered with notes and books and flashcards, and you spot a bag of snacks he'd smuggle in hidden beneath. you gather the courage to ask him why he's putting in so much effort for you, and he says it's because your grades are pitiful, that he can't let anyone associated to his name horrendously failing.
min ho who confesses in the quiet of the night, just before a week long break from school when he knows no one will be checking the dorms. who remembers that you like confessions that are intimate, none of those grand, over the top gestures in public but rather, something that's shared between two people. between the only people who really matter.
it works for him, too, because in all the years he's spent dating, asking girls out left and right like it's as easy as breathing, you're the only one who's brought him to such a state. an embarrassingly deep shade of red dusting his cheeks that's thankfully hidden by the darkness of his room. the hesitation in his voice that's so unfamiliar, it tastes like acid on his tongue. the way he stumbles over his words, flailing helplessly as you stare at him wide eyed.
it's maddening, what you've done to him. how you seem to have no knowledge of just how deep his feelings run for you.
but it's worth it, min ho thinks, when your stunned expression morphs into one of delight.
it's worth it, when you take his hands into yours, clutching at his fingers for dear life as you tell him that you like him too.
spudsy’s shifts and dumbass rabbits (jax x reader)
i watched episode 4 and couldn’t resist writing this lil silly fic because i hate jax <3
you swear you’re gonna kill him.
you don’t even care what happens after that, Caine can throw you in the void or force you into a therapy session with him, or whatever horrifying punishment his ai brain comes up with. it’d be worth it. it’d be so worth it if it meant shutting Jax up for five goddamn minutes.
he’s been sitting at the counter, feet kicked up onto the register looking like he’s on fucking vacation, while you scramble around Spudsy’s kitchen. the fryer’s spitting oil, the soda machine’s doing that weird gurgling thing again
and Jax does nothing all shift except make snide comments about your “technique”, pretending to be Gordon Ramsay trapped in a rabbit’s body.
“you’re gonna burn them,” he drawls, spinning one of the ketchup bottles like it’s a fidget toy, watching you flipping the fries.
you slam the fryer basket down harder than necessary and whirl around to glare at him. “maybe if you got off your lazy ass and helped, they’d come out looking better.”
Jax snickers, tilting his head back to look at you upside-down. his ears flop over the back of the chair, and he grins widely. “nah, why would I do that when you’re doing such a great job on your own?”
“Jax, I swear to #@?!—”
“language, language!” he interrupts, wagging a finger at you. “what would Caine think if he heard you talking like that?”
you grab the nearest ketchup bottle and launch it at him. and honestly, it’s more satisfying than it should be when it hits him square in the chest, splattering his black uniform with bright red.
“oh, wow.” he looks down at the mess and then up at you, opening his eyes wide in fake surprise. “was that supposed to hurt my feelings? because it’s just pathetic, sweetie, really.”
“pathetic?!” you’re halfway across the counter before you even realise what you’re doing, hands grabbing at his stupid clothes to yank him closer, practically face to face, however this damn bastard is taller than you, but you don’t back down.
Jax doesn’t fight it. in fact, he leans into it, daring you to say something else.
his stupid sharp smile only growing wider. “aww, isn’t it romantic. you’re starting to sound so obsessed with me, sweetheart.”
“obsessed with killing you, maybe.” your grip tightens on his shirt. Jax’s smile fades for a moment and his ears twitch what makes you think he might actually shut up.
but no. of course not.
“if i knew getting you riled up was this easy, I’d’ve started weeks ago,” his tone is so insufferably casual that you’re losing your temper.
you shove him back, harder than you meant to and he stumbles, nearly tripping over the chair he’s been lounging in all shift. you expect him to snap at you or at least throw some sarcastic quip your way, but instead—
he laughs.
it throws you off just long enough for him to close the distance between you, his hands catching yours before you can storm off.
“hey, you’ve got a little ketchup—” Jax swipes a gloved finger across your cheek, smudging red sauce where there definitely wasn’t any before “—right there.”
you glare at him, opening your mouth to yell, but before you can say anything, he leans down and—
oh.
it’s quick. as if he’s testing the waters, but the kiss leaves you frozen in place. his grin is back in full force when he pulls away, his eyes half-lidded. you stand there, dumbfounded, looking at his infuriatingly pleased face. the fryer beeps in the background and the soda machine gurgles again.
“there. now we’re even,” he says, stepping back and slipping out of your reach before you can punch him in the face.
“you’re such a—”
“Jax! y/n! get back to work!” Gangle's voice sounds.
Just imagine you’re standing in the kitchen when you suddenly feel the energy in the room shift — turning around to face Satoru, hunched and small with his bottom lip sticking out in a pout, hand stretched out in front of him to show you his wound.
“What am I looking at?” He shakes his hand furiously, having you approach him, grabbing his wrist to keep it still, and he instantly winces in pain. You squint, noticing the tiny, red dot in the dead centre of his palm — and he won’t tell you how he got the splinter burrowed in his hand, but you suspect he ran down the stairs three steps at a time, hand gliding over the railings and brushing over the chipped patch at the bottom of it (again). “I’ll get the tweezers,” you sigh.
Coming back from the bathroom, Satoru is sat by the dining table, mentally preparing himself for the dramatic procedure you’re about to perform.
“Show me,” you speak softly, knowing he’s going to need the sympathy. He rests the back of his hand on the table, his eyes pinched together as he awaits the stinging feeling of you digging into his hand.
“That hurts!” He squeals, retracting his hand to his chest at the speed of light.
“I didn’t even touch you, baby,” you say with a low chuckle. “Give me your hand again,” and he begrudgingly puts it back in the table.
“Satoru?”
“Hmm?”
“You have to turn off your infinity.”
He peaks open one eye, taking in the scene of the tweezers hovering an inch above his hand. He flicks his attention to your face — one eyebrow quirked, a slightly taunting smirk on your lips, fighting back the laugh you were harbouring.
Clearing his throat, he shifts in his chair to settle in a more confident posture — straightening his back, wiping away his pout and flexing his muscles, all in order to seem like a tough guy.
The invisible pressure under the tweezers disappeared. You lean in closer to execute with precision, only for Satoru to cry out the second the cold metal grazes his sensitive skin, causing you to flinch away on pure instinct.
“Fiiiine,” you singsong, “we can just let the splinter disappear into your hand and travel your bloodstream.” The lie often told to children seems to work, having him chew the inside of his cheek while he thinks for a second, before he once again rests his hand in front of you. “Ready?” He nods weakly, squeezing his eyes shut again.
And with ease, you snatch a hold of the small splinter that was wedged in his flesh and pull it out.
He blinks a few times, looking at his hand, looking at you. “Thank you,” he mumbles shyly, a little embarrassed by how he acted as if it was the end of the world.
With a lighthearted laugh, you get up from your seat and place a kiss on his forehead. “Any time, darling,” you whisper against his hot skin, knowing it’ll probably only be three weeks before you’re sat at the table again, facing the same issue.
“Hey.” Kenji spoke as he entered the kitchen, coming back from school. “I’m making katsu curry tonight.” Aunt Mina spoke as she chopped the ingredients. “You’re serious? Katsu curry?” He mutters as he opens the fridge to grab a drink after glancing at the table.
“Since when don’t you like katsu curry, huh?” His aunt asks, moving the ingredients to the counter placing it on a pan. Kenji slowly moves away and into the sink as aunt Mina looks at his face in surprise. “Oh my God..”
“What’s up?” Kenji glances at his aunt as he asks. “What happened to your face?” She says in concern as Kenji laughs it off, “Oh, I’m all right, I just— I got hit by a baseball in practice.” He waves off, “I’m fine.”
His aunt gives him a look, not buying his excuse. “Kenji— you don’t even play baseball that much anymo—“ she gets cut off as she sees her husband carry a box of trophies. “Ben Sato, don’t you even think about leaving that filthy box in my kitchen. She says with a glare as she wipes her hands with the towel draped on her shoulder.
“These are my.. bowling trophies.” He says, trying to convince her to let him put it there. Kenji smiles as he listens to his aunt and uncle’s banter, chuckling as his lips are placed on the opening of the plastic bottle of juice he’s drinking.
Uncle Ben looks at Kenji, noticing his state. “What happened to you?” He says as he moves down his box of trophies. “He got hit by a baseball. You’re lucky you didn’t get hit by a bat instead.” Aunt mina answers, making Kenji chuckle.
“Well, it would’ve been more interesting.” Ben adds as he winks at Kenji, having fun at riling up his wife. “Ben!” Aunt Mina scolded.
“It’s funny because it’s stupid and dangerous.” He adds, making his wife turn to him as Kenji lets out another hearty laugh, “Remember how we were stupid and dangerous?” “No.” Aunt Mina quickly replies, stirring the food in the pan. “Trust me we were.” Uncle Ben nods, looking at Kenji.
“All right, good to know I’m not the only one.” He smiles, looking down at the wet floor. “Hey, where’s the flood?” He asks, uncle Ben picking his box of trophies again. “Follow me. I’ll show you.” He walks away, barefoot. “You serious?” Kenji asks, “Yeah!” His uncle replies. “All right.” Kenji mutters under his breath, his aunt looking at them both, unamused, as she continued to cook.
Seriously…men.
After Kenji and his uncle talked in the basement while trying to find the leak, his uncle finally starts walking up, Kenji still cleaning up some boxes and organizing them. “Hey, before you come up, see if there’s anything else worth saving.” His uncle speaks as Kenji held a piece of frozen meat on his bruised lip. “Okay.” Kenji replied, still organizing the things inside a box.
He walks away, moving a box from a corner. He puts it down, suddenly noticing a briefcase with the initials, “HS” on top of the lock. He remembers in the car, on their way to this house when he was still a child, his dad had the same bag. Hayao was taking out a folder, with plenty of papers outside.
He blinks the memory stuck in his mind as he slowly picks it up, walking upstairs. His aunt and uncle were heard bickering, Kenji still fixated on the briefcase of his father. He walks and stops into their view, his aunt and uncle staring at him in shock. They look at each other before looking back at Kenji.
“I forgot all about that thing. It was your dad’s.” Uncle Ben speaks up, making Kenji turn his head to him. “Yeah..” He mutters, “He asked us to keep it safe for him.” Kenji felt his eyes tear up at the sight of his father’s belonging. Feeling a sense of nostalgia wash over him. “He saw it in the window of that leader shop in Okinawa. He was 19.”
Uncle Ben sat down on the chair, Kenji placing the leather bag on the table. “What does a 19-year-old kid need with a briefcase?” He jokes. “And guess who sold it to him.” Kenji shrugs, “Your mother.” Kenji glances at him in surprise, “Mom?” He smiles softly, remembering his mother.
Aunt Mina walks towards them, leaning on the wall as her heart clenches at the sight of Kenji smiling sadly. “That’s how they met!” Uncle Ben replies, nodding his head. “Dad asked you to keep this safe?” He glances at the bag before looking at his uncle, “Why? There’s nothing in here.” Aunt Mina smiles, walking a bit near.
“Hayao was a very secretive man, Ken.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” He laughs, remembering his father. He starts opening the bag, feeling paper. He pulls it out of the bag, shock present on his face as he stares at it. “Who’s that? Do you know who this is?” He furrows his brow in confusion as he shows the picture to his aunt and uncle.
“Some guy who worked with your dad, I guess.” Uncle Ben says, acting unsure. Kenji tries to show his aunt, but she doesn’t reply. Ken looks at it, feeling like the answer was incomplete. Aunt Mina suddenly walks towards him, wiping the table. “Okay, put it away from the table. We’re going to eat, and wash your hands, now.” She says sternly, earning a nod from Ken as he puts the picture back inside.
“Go on.” Uncle Ben motions him to move, Ken nods, taking the hint as he walks away. As soon as his figure disappears, uncle ben looks at aunt Mina, a hand falling over her mouth as she looked in disbelief. “Oh dear..” She mutters.
Kenji was in his room, opening the briefcase as he placed the things outside, on the floor, all organized. Pictures, coins, scientific calculator, pens, were all scattered there, even his dad’s ID with the name “ULTRA” printed on the top. Kenji’s eyes slowly move towards the eyeglasses’ case, hand moving to get it.
He pulls out the glasses from its case, staring at it longingly as he remembered his father wearing them.
He slowly walks over to the bathroom, blinking as if to get ready to put on the graded glasses, even if he already had perfect vision. He slowly put it on his face, closing his eyes and opening them as he tries to adjust at the change of view. He slowly looks at the mirror, trying to adjust to his new look. He flashes a smile, poses, and even adjusts his glasses to look cool.
He takes them off, putting it on his shirt as he went back to his room, sitting down on the carpet floor as he grabs his father’s ID. Suddenly a memory flashes in his mind.
“Ken, I need you to be good.” Hayao, pats his son’s shoulder gently. Little Kenji looked taken a back, looking down then back up to his father who was kneeling on his level. “Dad, you’re leaving me?” He said with a voice that almost cracked, his father gently smiles, trying to cheer his son up.
“Just for a little while, Kenji. Your mother and I have something to do, it’s very important.”
Kenji shakes his thoughts off, still staring intently at the ID. He bites his lip, his eyes landing on the word “ULTRA” again, making him sigh as he placed the ID down, grabbing the briefcase that was laid at the center of the floor.
He starts observing it, moving it from side to side. He opens the briefcase again, putting his hand inside as he searches for more, maybe he missed something. He groans, turning the bag to the back as he opens the zipper. And he was right, he did miss something.
He slowly moves his finger from the start to the end of the zipper. His finger gently moves across as it stops in the end, flicking it as the part of the border opened. He finds a folder.
Before he lets it out fully, he quickly stands up a bit to close the door and clicks a device that he created which locks his door. He then sat back down, grabbing the folder like notebook and opening it.
He traces his fingers softly against the paper, eyebrows furrowing as he bites his lip, studying the notes and equations his father had written down. “What the heck, dad? You’re some genius..” He mutters, still studying the writings intently. His eyes falls to a sentence, an equation at the bottom of the paper, with the title “ØØ Decay Rate Algorithm.” He mutters the words written. “Zero, zero, decay rate algorithm.”
Suddenly his thoughts were cut off as someone knocks on the door, making him rush to keep the things out of the way. “Wait! One sec.” He says while moving it around. He finally sits back at his chair, placing his arms on the desk as he moves his hand around the computer. “You can come in now.” He replies, moving his long fingers around the mouse.
Uncle Ben looks at him, hand on the door knob. “You okay, Ken?” Kenji nods, “Oh, yeah I’m okay. What’s up?” Ken nods his head, acting cool. Uncle Ben raises a brow, his eyes falling to the glasses hanging on his shirt. “Is that..?” Before uncle Ben could further ask, Kenji puts the glasses on, blinking once in a while to try and adjust to the grade again.
“Yeah, it’s dad’s.” Uncle Ben smiles, giving him a nod, “Well, you look just like Hayao.” Kenji gives a small smile at the comment, “Can I come in?” Kenji nods at his uncle’s request.
Uncle Ben nods, closing the door behind him as he grabs a rubik’s cube from Kenji’s desk as he walks. “Well, uhm.. Listen.” He starts. “I don’t have much education. You know that, Ken.” Uncle Ben, sits down on his bed, fidgeting with the rubik’s cube as Kenji turns his head to look at him.
“Like, damn, I stopped being able to help with your homework when you were ten. Don’t even mention the fact that I don’t know how baseball works.” He sighs, “What I’m trying to say is, I know it’s been rough for you without your dad.” He looks at Kenji, who had looked down. “And I know we don’t talk much about them.”
“No, uncle it’s all right.”
“No, it’s not all right, Ken. I know that. I wish I could change it, but I can’t.” He sighs.
“Onda Hakase.” Kenji’s uncle said, making Ken look at him seriously and with curiosity. “That’s the name of the guy in the picture with your dad. They worked together for years and they were close. But after that night we never saw him again. He never called.” Kenji felt shock as he takes in the information, but hiding it with a nod.
“Not once.” Uncle Ben nods back, looking down at the rubik’s cube, “Go figure.” He mutters, looking back up again, his eyes trail to the computer, with a picture of you. “She’s pretty.” He points his head to the picture making Kenji’s smile falter as he turns his head back to the monitor. It was a photo of [Name], the one he had taken when she was so serious into reading that book. Kenji felt his face heat up slightly, feeling embarrassed that he was caught with his monitor screen with you on it.
“Uncle Ben.” Kenji calls out before his uncle was about to leave, “You’re a pretty great dad.” He smiles, making uncle Ben feel a pang of warmth engulfing his heart at the comment.
It was a few seconds after uncle Ben had left, Ken staring at the monitor screen, it was still you on it. He places his chin on his hand, his elbow resting on his desk as he zooms in into the book you were reading. “All about Kaijus.” He snorts as he mutters out the title of the book, raising a brow. He had sworn he heard that name before, it just wasn’t clear to him anymore.
His eyes slowly move to your face, observing your features. The background didn’t matter to him at all, he was just starstruck at the sight of you. He quickly snaps his thoughts off, moving his mouse to move the tab to the side and search the internet.
He remembers the name of the guy that his uncle mentioned, swiftly typing on his keyboard. “Hayao Sato and Onda Hakase.” He quickly clicks on a link after it popped up, his eyes slightly widening as he reads.
“𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒
𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭?”
His father and Onda Hakase were beside each other, a picture also displayed on the screen as he continued to scroll relentlessly. Pictures were shown. “𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨.” His eyes slightly widened, knowing that his parents had already died wasn’t such a shock to him, it was just a really bad memory.
He searches again, “Dr. Onda Hasake.” Tapping on another link that says, “A World Without Weakness.” His eyes slowly scan Dr. Onda’s statement, tapping into even more links to get more information as he studies all of them. His eyes then slowly fall into an Intern Enrollment, which was now closed. His cursor slowly move to the picture of a building, the ULTRA.
He furrows his brows as he continued to do a little more research on it, making a plan to meet Dr. Onda. He sighs, exiting the tab and seeing the picture of you in his screen again. He smiles, “Uncle Ben’s right.” He turns his attention back to his plan, sighing.
This is just the start.
Hi lovies! I know what you’re thinking about, there’s less interaction of reader and ken together here but the next part will take a big turn👀 Just wanted to make y’all wait ‘cause patience is a must (or I just like playin’ with y’all.) I’m working on two stories, (one that pays up and this one on tumblr!) So sorry if I haven’t reached your expectations this time..😞
Thank you so much for the support and being patient. I’ve been busy lately, with much love 💕
This series will be under this tag— if you’re having difficulty finding other parts, check this: #ameijamsspiderken🕸️
