•X e i i• @kuureii - Tumblr Blog

Fractured Silence

a/n: ok i am back with zanka's part in this little angsty scenario, im acc so happy with how this one came out icllll, also most of the time these a/n are literally me writing my thoughts as i write these fics lmaoo, bon appetit!

divider creds: @/cursed-carmine

tags: hurt/comfort, zanka might be a little ooc, reader is the same age as zanka, swearing, lmk if i missed any

taglist: @suhsun4 @sleepykittyenergy @queeniepearls @mobpsycho-enjoyer

word count: 1.8k

character: Zanka Nijiku

masterlist

starglitterz

mornings w zanka <3 ; zanka nijiku x fem!reader, suggestive towards the end

you're lying in bed on your side, messy hair splayed across the pillow as you watch your lover get dressed. it's time for his daily training, and not even the promise of another round can convince mr average joe to stay in bed with you. he claims he has to spend a certain amount of time practicing every day with his lovely assistaff to keep in shape. your argument that having a workout in bed with you would be equally as good didn't impress him.

“zanka…” you whine, watching as he pulls on his baggy pants. his back is towards you and it makes your heart skip a beat – he's so lean, all toned muscle that flexes when he moves, and if you look closely you can make out the faint red marks etched on his skin from your nails last night. “can't you just stay a little longer?”

“you know i'd love to, princess.” his deep voice sends heat curling up your spine. “but i don't have natural talent like the other cleaners. i'm a mediocre guy, i gotta work harder to keep up.”

meeoowchi

——> Martin’s B-Side // 🎤

———ˏˋ ★┆ 마틴 ˎˊ˗ SYNOPSIS: yoon y/n, a high schooler and intense fan of idol Martin Edwards from the group CORTIS, who lands a job as his housekeeper. She discovers his "B-side": that his cool, confident stage persona hides a deeply insecure, gloomy, and introverted personality. y/n decides to support her struggling idol, helping him gain confidence while they develop a unique bond!

———ˏˋ ★┆ 마틴 ˎˊ˗ PAIRING: martin edwards x reader

———ˏˋ ★┆ 마틴 ˎˊ˗ KORI’S NOTES: OKAY i probably won’t start series this until im somewhat done w a love so beautiful BUT i love tamon’s b-side and i love martin soooooooo

———ˏˋ ★┆ 마틴 ˎˊ˗ CONTENT / GENRE: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, y/n is oblivious to her own feelings, comedy

———ˏˋ ★┆ 마틴 ˎˊ˗ WORD COUNT: n/a

———ˏˋ ★┆ 마틴 ˎˊ˗ TAGLIST!! - @mxddi3-the-mnm-lover @twixxxpie @eomseong @renjisturns (comment to be added!)

bysomeweirdo

Hi hiii, i was wondering if you could to a martin x figure skater reader? Shes like super famous and insanely good at figure skating like shes competing on the olympics basically, the female version of yuzuru hanyu? Heheh thank you so much have a great dayy

golden retriever on ice | martin

꒰⌕꒱www. what it's like to have a figure skater gf .com ꒰?꒱— wc: 0.8k ☘︎ martin edwards x reader, fem!reader, figure skater!reader, proofread (i think), sfw. ꒰💭 ; notes꒱— hiii, sorry for taking so long to do your request. i didn't now what exactly you wanted (i'm very slow to understand things), so i tried to write something with the things i knew. sorry again😭, hope you like it tho

since the beginning of your relationship, martin, have been begging you to teach him how to ice skate properly. or at least, try to teach him.

both of your routines didn't allow that for a long time; his debut came, narrowing more his time with you. the holidays arrived and you both finally got some days off work, allowing this teaching lesson to happen.

you and martin arrived in the evening; the lesson extended itself for some hours. half of it was you explaining and showing martin how to stand up without losing his balance. the other half was chuckles, giggles and teasing from both sides.

to see this big guy waddling around like toddler is an image you’ll never forget. you’ll miss this when he actually learns how to act on the ice.

the familiar cold from the rink always brought you this unusual comfort. the building around it was almost empty. only a few souls existed there —figure skaters and workers—.

“why don’t you hold on to the barriers? it’ll make your life easier, trust me” swaying from side to side, you move backwards to keep an eye on the boy trying not to fall.

not being used to the slippery ice and the ice skates, martin couldn’t stand straight. if you couldn’t see he’s on an ice rink, you would probably think he was walking on a tightrope.

“nah, i can do it alone,” he groaned, every minimal movement could cause him to lose his balance. which isn’t something you would want to do in front a professional figure skater, especially when it’s your lovely girlfriend.

“i’m not saying you can’t. but you could use some help,” you turned your back on him and moved away. it wasn’t your intention to leave him alone long enough for him to hurt himself.

the original idea was to get a skate helper, similar to the ones made for kids just learning how to stand on the ice but bigger, for martin.

you slid on the ice quickly, your silhouette looked like a blur to anyone looking.

when you turned around and started to make your way back, your head low looking at the cute penguin helper, you heard a loud thud, followed by some hurted moans.

your head shot up. martin was on the floor. this image made your heart stop for a few seconds, all the blood stopped running on your body.

“i’m all right,” he shouted,raising his hand up in “i’m alive” way. he gave up and stopped resisting gravity, laying down completely on the cold ice. he regretted his decision right after, he didn’t know the ice rink was so cold.

seeing he was okay, you relaxed, taking a deep breath and moving closer to him. abandoning the skate aid. “you fell, shocking news,” rolling your eyes with a small smirk grown on your lips.

you stopped by his side, crouching down. “that’s what you get for not trusting a professional,” you said as you stroked his hair and checked for signs of injuries. “i know how to do my job.”

“professionals make mistakes too. but i resisted a lot, you gotta admit that.”

“mhm and you're sprawled like a pancake, now. c’mon, let’s get you up on your feet and try again,” you grabbed his arms trying to give him some sort of support.

this was one of the ways he showed interest in your job. another way he does it, is by being a professional cheerleader at all your competitions he sees.

when you’re entering the rink, hearing all the shouts of people cheering for you, one of the voices definitely stands out. it’s martin, obviously.

he’s always sat beside your friends and family. he wasn’t hard to find in the middle of the crowd. of course, a giant wouldn't ever be hard to see. but a giant jumping up and down like a golden retriever, is something impossible to ignore.

but he wasn’t there only during the good times.

sometimes, when you have a hard day, full of very restrictive practice routines and also diets. martin appears at your house with a backpack full of antistress things.

he’s definitely a professional at comforting you.

his collection usually contains: calming lotion, candles, tea and other things he knows you enjoy.

when you wake up in the middle of the night, due to back pains or the remaining sting for your sprained ankle, he wakes up right away. you don’t have to say anything, the smallest sound of discomfort coming from you, makes him wide awake.

he gets you medicine. he has those around for himself and for you. when he’s out of medicine, he leaves to buy it. so fast, you almost don’t notice when he leaves and comeback.

martin refuses to let you be in pain, only sleeping after knowing for sure you’re okay and in deep sleep.

𐔌՞. .՞𐦯< thanks for reading 💕.

weneeya

Helloo :) Im the same anon that requested Zanka and Rudo having a crush on Enjin’s sister and I loved how you wrote it! I don’t want to be too much but I would love to read a part two on how would they confess to her? Feel free to ignore this of course and thank you for accepting my previous request :)

the big crush pt.1 / pt.2 m.list | rules

pairing. gachiakuta x fem!reader

characters. zanka, rudo

note. welcome back!! ofc i'll do a part two for you <3 i'm glad you liked the first one, and i hope you'll love this one just as much!

Zanka

Since Enjin’s words, Zanka grew closer to you day by day. If your own brother trusted him enough to take care of you, he better be doing it carefully. He didn’t want Enjin to be disappointed ; and he certainly did not want you to get hurt by him in any way. But how hard it was for the poor Zanka.

He knew what he felt for you, because he knew he wasn’t feeling anything close to this for anyone else in the cleaners. He cared about them, yes, but he wanted you to care about him. You made his mind go crazy like it had never done before. Zanka always wanted to be seen by your brother ; but he slowly began to realize that he wanted to be seen by you even more.

It was slowly but surely driving him mad, if he had to be honest. Zanka, the usually so calm and collected guy, focused on being the best by making it look like it was no effort for him, was losing his mind over you. His mind was occupied by thoughts of you all the damn time.

valentinesxoxo

Hiiii, I hope you are doing well

I was hoping to make a Tamsy x blind civilian reader request please

Where Teams Eager and Akuta set out for canvas town and when they get there, they go to visit the Spellcaster and finds (y/n) assisting the mayor after Jobs death!

Tamsy takes interst in how (y/n) comforts remin like a loving mother and immediately wants her for himself.

Somehow finding his way into her life.

I will leave this with you. I trust you would make this story amazing💗😩

when love is near, i lose my fear- tamsy caines

⤷synopsis.ᐟ- when the team, eager, and akuta including tamsy travel to canvas town for a routine visit, they expect nothing more than checking in with the spellcaster and confirming the town’s safety. instead, they find you—the quiet civilian who stepped in to help the mayor after job’s death. you move through the office with gentle hands and a calming voice, comforting remin like a protective, loving mother.

tamsy notices you instantly.

he watches the way you kneel to remin’s height, listen to her worries, and soothe her with soft words that even he feels settle in his chest. something warm and unexpected stirs inside him—an instinct, a want. he’s drawn to your kindness, your patience, the strength beneath your softness.

from that moment, tamsy makes it his mission to stay close.

little by little, he slips into your daily life—helping you carry supplies, fixing things before you realize they’re broken, lingering in the doorway just to hear your voice. what begins as curiosity quickly deepens into something he can’t shake.

tamsy doesn’t just want to protect you. he wants you—your warmth, your presence, the quiet gentleness that makes him feel seen in ways he’s never known.

and somehow, without you noticing at first… he becomes part of your world. part of your routine. and eventually, part of your heart.

⤷word-count.ᐟ- 0.3K

the journey to canvas town had been long, dusty, and filled with the kind of chatter that only teams eager and akuta could produce. boots dragged, coats fluttered, and the sound of arguments, laughter, and complaints blended with the rhythmic hum of the wasteland. tamsy walked somewhere near the back of the group, quiet as always, hands shoved into his pockets, his expression unreadable.

they were heading there for one main reason: to speak with the spellcaster, who’d been having trouble since mayor job’s passing. canvas town had changed since then — some said it felt emptier, quieter, fragile.

none of them expected to find you there.

when the teams finally entered the town, the doors of the spellcaster’s shop were already open. colorful powders littered the counters, scrolls hung from the rafters, and behind the clutter stood remin, who looked exhausted yet determined. and beside her… you.

you stood with your hands gently guiding remin’s shoulders, speaking to her in a soft tone that didn’t quite fit the chaos around you. though your eyes didn’t focus on anything directly, your movements were sure, practiced, careful. like you’d lived in a world of touch, sound, and warmth for a long time.

rudo entered first, then enjin, riyo, zanka and more—until tamsy finally stepped in behind them.

he saw you before he saw anyone else. and he paused.

there was something in the way you leaned down, whispering to remin, a gentle firmness in your voice only someone deeply caring could have. your fingers brushed her hair back soothingly, like a patient older sister or a mother comforting a frightened child.

it struck him harder than he expected.

for a man whose voice rarely rose above a murmur and whose emotions stayed tucked somewhere deep, the sight of pure tenderness pulled something in him open.

“hey,” remin said suddenly, turning toward your direction, “they’re here.” you straightened a little. “hi. i can hear a lot of boots — must be a big group.”

tamsy swallowed, then stepped closer.

and you… smiled. not at anything directly, not at any face, but at the sound of new presence. a soft, warm smile that felt unfairly beautiful. “you must be the cleaners,” you said gently. “i help around here now. i’m… well, i’m just someone who tries to keep things running.”

“you’re doing more than that,” remin muttered proudly. you laughed shyly. “i try.”

tamsy watched you. he couldn’t stop. the way you tilted your head slightly to follow voices, the way your hands rested lightly on the counter as though mapping out the world through your fingertips — it all fascinated him.

when you moved to brew tea for the group, he noticed how carefully you counted your steps, how your hands skimmed edges of furniture. yet you poured everything perfectly, like you’d memorized these motions long ago.

he didn’t fully understand it yet, but something in him quietly said:

i want to know her.

as the teams gathered information from remin and the spellcaster, tamsy kept finding his gaze drifting toward you. every time you laughed, a little tightness pinched his chest. every time your hand accidentally brushed someone’s arm and you apologized with this sweet little fluster, he felt heat crawl up his neck.

when you passed him a cup of tea, your fingers brushed his knuckles gently — unintentionally, but it made him freeze.

“thank you,” he said softly. “you’re welcome… tamsy, right? your footsteps are lighter than the others. you move carefully.”

he blinked.

no one ever noticed things like that.

you did.

they stayed in canvas town for the rest of the afternoon, and somehow tamsy kept ending up near you. sometimes you spoke with remin, sometimes with the spellcaster, but somehow tamsy found ways to help — moving a box for you, adjusting hanging scrolls, guiding you around a broken floorboard before you stepped on it.

when the teams finally prepared to leave for the night, you stood near the doorway, hands folded.

“thank you for visiting,” you said kindly. “it’s been a while since we’ve had this many voices in here.”

tamsy stared at you a moment longer than he should. and you tilted your head, sensing him. “will you come again?” you asked quietly. his heart stuttered.

“…i will,” he murmured. “good. i’ll be here.”

tamsy came back the next day. and the day after. and the day after that.

he didn’t tell anyone. he’d slip away during his break, weaving through alleys and empty roads until canvas town came into view. each time he arrived at your door, you immediately recognized his footsteps.

“tamsy?” your voice always lifted a little when you said his name. “you’re early today. come in.”

he liked how your home was arranged — neat paths, soft rugs, gentle scents, everything organized in a way that made your world safer. he learned quickly that you always counted steps to your kitchen, that you folded blankets in specific ways so you could identify them by touch, that you preferred the sound of the window slightly open.

and he helped.

he fixed creaking hinges. he reorganized cabinets so nothing sharp sat near your searching hands. he tightened loose screws, cleaned dust from corners you couldn’t see, repaired your broken lamp.

you noticed the changes.

“you keep fixing things,” you said one day as your fingers brushed a now-stable shelf. “i didn’t hear anything fall today.”

“it was loose,” he said blankly. “thank you,” you said softly. “nobody really helps me like this anymore.” tamsy swallowed, feeling something bloom in his chest he didn’t know how to handle.

“i want to,” he said. “i know.”

one time, it happened one evening while you sat across from him, tea warming your hands.

“tamsy,” you asked, “can i ask something strange?” he blinked. “sure.”

you hesitated. “can i… feel your face? i’ve never known what you look like. i want to at least… imagine you properly.” his heart thudded hard. no one touched his face. no one ever asked. he didn’t let people that close.

but you…

“yeah,” he whispered, almost breathless. “you can.” you stood and reached toward him, and he gently guided your hands until your fingertips brushed his cheeks.

your touch was feather-light.

your palm glided along his jaw, brushing the faint stubble. your fingers traced the slope of his nose, the shape of his eyes, the curve of his cheekbones. when you reached his mouth, your thumb touched cold metal.

“a… piercing?” you traced his silver labret carefully. “this feels so cool…”

he felt heat rush up his neck.

“you’re handsome,” you murmured so sincerely it punched air from his lungs.

but then—

your smile faded.

“i wish i could see you,” you whispered. “really see you. i can only picture shapes and textures. everyone else just… treats me like i’m breakable. but you… you’re the only boy who actually notices me.”

something sharp twisted in him.

he didn’t want pity from you. he didn’t want to be a vague shape or texture. he wanted you to see him. wanted you to know every detail of him, not just through touch but through sight.

he wanted a cure.

wanted to fix what the world had taken from you.

the thought of you touching him again without truly seeing him made his chest tighten painfully. he didn’t know why it hurt — he only knew that every time you smiled in his direction without looking at him, something inside him ached.

“i just wish,” you whispered, fingers still on his cheek, “that i could look at you.” tamsy’s breath trembled. he didn’t know how to give you your vision back.

but he knew what he could give you.

the night of canvas town’s small remembrance festival arrived soon after. fireworks were set to go off in honor of job’s memory. people gathered in the square, and tamsy stayed close to you, guiding you gently through the crowd.

when the sky burst into color — bright reds, deep blues, shimmering golds — you tilted your head up at the sound, eyes unfocused but full of wonder.

he stared at you illuminated by the flashes of light, your expression soft and peaceful, and something inside him snapped quietly into certainty.

“you’re beautiful,” he whispered. you turned your head slowly toward his voice. “you think so?”

“yeah,” he breathed. “i think so every time i see you.” the fireworks boomed overhead, lighting the outline of your face in bursts.

“i wish i could see them,” you whispered. “i wish i could see… everything.” he stepped closer.

“you will someday,” he whispered without thinking. “i’ll make it happen. i don’t care how. i’ll find a way.” your lips parted, stunned. “tamsy…” but the ache, the longing, the fierce protective feeling inside him pushed him forward. his hand cupped your cheek gently.

“i want you to see me,” he murmured. “i want you to know me fully. i want… you.”

and before you could speak— he leaned in and kissed you.

soft.

careful.

like touching something precious he didn’t dare break.

your breath caught, and your hands flew up to his chest, gripping lightly. he felt you melt into the kiss, felt your warmth against him, felt every unspoken word between you.

the sky exploded in color above you. your world was darkness. his world was you.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested on yours, breath trembling.

“i’m not letting you go,” he whispered. “not now. not ever.”

you smiled softly, cheeks warming under the glow of fading fireworks.

“tamsy,” you whispered, “you already found your way into my life.” and he held you closer, heart pounding, deciding right then and there:

he would stay.

he would protect you.

he would love you.

and one day— he would make sure you could finally see him.

after that night beneath the fireworks, the night you and tamsy shared your first kiss, something inside him shifted so deeply it felt like the earth rearranged itself. from that moment on, everything he did circled back to you. his thoughts, his routines, even his sense of duty changed without him realizing it at first. all he knew was that waking up without hearing your voice made his chest feel hollow, and going to sleep without imagining your hands touching his face left him restless.

so he started showing up.

secretly at first. the morning after the kiss, he found himself standing outside your home before the sun rose, listening for the faint sound of you moving inside. then he slipped back to the cleaners before anyone questioned him. the next afternoon, he returned again. then the next. soon it became daily—sometimes twice a day. sometimes he even skipped entire missions, ignoring akuta’s shouting and eager’s annoyance. he didn’t care. all he cared about was the way your face lit up the second you sensed him.

you always knew it was him before he spoke. you could recognize the sound of his footsteps now—the soft, careful rhythm he used when approaching you. if you were in the kitchen, you’d perk up instantly. if you were sitting by the window, your head would turn, your lips forming the smallest, warmest smile.

“tamsy… you came again,” you would whisper, like you still couldn’t believe he chose you. and every time, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you from behind or gently brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“couldn’t stay away,” he would murmur in your ear, breathing in the soft scent of flowers you kept around your home.

he meant it. he didn’t even bother pretending anymore.

each day he brought something with him—not because he needed to but because he wanted to. he paid attention to everything: the textures you liked running your fingers across, the colors you commented sounded peaceful, the scents that made you smile. whenever he found something that reminded him of you, he tucked it into his coat pocket and brought it to you like a treasure.

sometimes he placed a small box in your hands and watched carefully as you felt the shape of it. inside would be a polished stone smooth enough to calm your nerves as you traced the surface. other times it would be something delicate, like a ribbon or an ornament he found during travels. once, he even repaired a wind chime just so you could listen to it again—soft notes that warmed your home like gentle rain.

but the thing he worked the hardest on were the letters.

he taught himself braille.

late at night, after the others fell asleep, he sat hunched over sheets of thick paper, pressing dots into the surface one by one. it was slow and frustrating work, but he did it anyway, jaw tight, brows furrowed, murmuring your name under his breath in determination. some dots were slightly crooked where he pressed too hard in impatience, but every letter came from his heart.

and when he placed a letter in your hands, watching you run your fingers over the raised bumps, his chest tightened with nervous anticipation.

you always read them slowly. always stopped at certain lines to take a shaky breath. always smiled softly—or cried softly—depending on what he wrote.

once you found the line: “i think about you even when i don’t want to.” your voice cracked when you read it aloud. he panicked for a moment, but you shook your head and whispered, “no, tamsy… it’s beautiful.”

he wanted to kiss you again right then.

he brought flowers too. always the same kind. he noticed early on that you kept them in several corners of your home. even though you couldn’t see their colors, you loved the way they smelled and the texture of their petals. so every day he brought fresh ones, brushing them against your palms so you could recognize them instantly. you laughed once, saying, “i think you bring more flowers than the town’s gardener.”

he blushed the whole rest of the day.

with time, the closeness between you became natural. sometimes you sat curled up on his lap while he quietly described the room around you, the sunset, the trees swaying outside your window. sometimes he fell asleep on your couch with your head on his chest, your fingers laced with his. he fixed things around your home without you asking—loose floorboards, crooked shelves, door handles that didn’t align just right. he took pride in making your world easier to navigate.

and sometimes, when you reached up to touch his face, he stopped breathing entirely.

your fingertips brushed across his jaw, then moved up to his cheeks. you always paused at his piercing—soft, curious touches against the cool metal. he leaned into you each time, his heart beating wildly, silently begging you to keep going.

yet somewhere deep down, a quiet ache grew.

because every time your hands explored his features, every time your lips brushed against his without your eyes widening in surprise the way sighted people do, tamsy felt a painful twist in his chest.

you couldn’t see him.

you couldn’t see how he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. you couldn’t see the softness in his eyes or the way his expression always melted when he held you. you couldn’t see the way he lingered on every movement you made.

one evening, that ache overwhelmed him.

he had arrived late, breathless, after sprinting away from an assignment just to make it to you before nightfall. you met him at the door, laughing, saying, “tamsy, you’re out of breath.”

you reached for his face without thinking, fingertips brushing his lips, then his cheekbones. he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, but the sadness pooled in his chest.

“tamsy?” you whispered gently. he swallowed hard. “i just… wish you could see me.” your hand stilled. your expression shifted—hurt, confused, soft.

before you could speak, he shook his head. “i know it’s stupid. i just… i want you to know how i look at you. i want you to know how much i—”

you stepped forward, reaching out until your palms found his chest and slid up to his shoulders.

“tamsy,” you said in a trembling voice, “you’re the only boy who actually notices me.”

his breath caught sharply.

you continued, “i don’t care that i can’t see your face. i feel you. i hear you. i know you better than anyone else ever has. and you… you make me feel like i’m not alone.”

his heart felt like it was cracking open.

that night you held each other for a long time, wrapped up together on your couch, your head resting on his shoulder, his arms locked protectively around you as if the world might take you away.

from then on, you and tamsy were no longer “almost something.” you became a couple without ever needing to say it aloud. everyone in canvas town knew. everyone in the cleaners knew. even remin smiled knowingly whenever she saw the two of you together.

weeks turned into months, and tamsy grew even more devoted. he made sure you never walked anywhere alone. he memorized every sound you made. he noticed the slightest change in your tone, the tiniest hint of sadness in your voice, and immediately held you until it faded.

and eventually, love wasn’t enough.

he wanted forever.

one evening, after another long day of visiting you in secret, he walked into your home carrying a small object hidden in his pocket. his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. he tried hiding it behind a gift of flowers, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t nervous.

you sensed it instantly.

“tamsy? you’re… fidgeting.” he chuckled weakly. “am i?” “yes,” you laughed softly. “a lot.” he guided you to your couch, sitting you down and taking both your hands into his. his palms were warm, trembling slightly as he lifted your fingers to his lips.

“there’s something i… want to ask you,” he whispered. you tilted your head, confused. “ask me what?”

he didn’t speak right away. instead, he carefully took your left hand and placed something round and cold onto your finger. you gasped as your fingertips traced the shape — a ring, smooth and delicate, with a tiny raised texture he carved himself so you could feel the design.

you froze. breath catching. heart racing. “tamsy… is this—” he leaned his forehead against yours, his voice cracking openly.

“marry me...” your fingers tightened around his instantly, your mouth falling open in shock. “tamsy… i—are you serious?”

“more serious than anything in my life,” he whispered, voice thick and emotional. “i want to be with you. i want to protect you. i want to make your life easier, brighter, happier. i want to spend every day proving how much i love you. so… please…”

he swallowed hard.

“say yes.” you didn’t hesitate. you threw your arms around him, tears slipping down your cheeks as you pressed your face into his neck. “yes… yes, tamsy, of course i’ll marry you.”

he exhaled shakily, relief flooding his body as he held you tighter than ever before. he buried his face in your shoulder, arms wrapped around you as if he could pour all his love into the embrace.

and when you finally pulled back, touching his cheeks, tracing his lips, your forehead pressed to his—

he kissed you again. slow. tender. full of everything he felt.

your world was dark, but he made it bright.

his world was cold, but you made it warm.

and now, you were his — and he was yours — forever

「©valentinesxoxo˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 」

signedbrutus

BRUTUS I AM BACK

I haven’t exactly gotten that far into gachiakuta, but I’m just so obsessed with Zanka!

Could I request a Zanka x Rudo’s big sister!reader fluff? Like where he has an obvious crush on mc but every-time he tries to get close to them, Rudo just magically appears and just pushes poor Zanka away from his dear big sister

Literally the “and your friend steve” song

Rudo is just so over protective of his only living family member, the only one who pushed through the crowd to fall down the pit with him, that he doesn’t wanna lose her or see her get hurt 💔

I can definitely see mc as a giver, their instrument would probably be something Regto gave them, something Rudo found and fixed for them, or maybe even something they found on their own.

I dunno though, so the choice is yours 🤭

Also I love Rudo so much HE’S JUST A BABY 😭😭😭 God when the flashbacks showed him when he was younger, HE WAS ONLY THREE APPLES TALL OMG

Sibling Bond [Zanka x Reader]

In which Zanka gets increasingly frustrated when his crush's brother keeps interrupting.

Reader is ── Female | Non-Giver Cleaner Story is ── Romantic | 1.8k words

Song Inspo ── Melancholy Hill by Grollaz Warnings ── N/A

belovedren

#𝐍𝐎 𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 🚪

It's been a year since the death of your husband, recently the world has been thrown into chaos for the past few days. Imagine your horror, when you find your deceased husband peacefully sleeping next to you and acting as if he didn't die.

If I were a zombie I'd never eat your brain I'd just want your heart Yeah, I'd want your heart

Yandere HSR/Genshin x reader ( Phainon, Blade, Mydei, Flins, Childe, Zhongli )

>> may contain suggestive as well as violent nature, viewer discretion is needed.

PHAINON

Your husband passed away a year ago, during an accident. He truly was the love of your life, and you still think about him till this day. Back then, you used to sleep on his side of the bed just to capture the last of his scent and warm–people tell you to move on but how can you.

Ever since the recent changes that are going on around the world, you rarely go outside due to fear as well as for safety precautions. Honestly, you can hear phainon voice echoing through the hall–telling you not to go outside.

But this isn't the case, because one night–you woke up towards... Phainon laying beside you–he is dead. You tried to move away which stirs him awake, this phainon looks confused and tries to calm you down with the same softness he used to have.

He would not leave, this is not your husband–hes already dead. But every time you tried to tell him, he would say "used to be dead, but now I'm back to protect you" every time when he tries to initiate intimacy, he's hands are cold and there's no pulse. Despite all his attempts to convince you–the man that is sleeping next to you isn't your husband.

With his presence in the way, your house has been safe for quite some time. It's probably because of him scaring away any visitors who dared to come or simply him killing them, you would wake up towards your sheets being covered by blood but it was not him or yours–he would prevent you from going outside as well as preventing any danger coming to the house.

totheonewhotiesredstrings

guess who?

in which you play a game with the children of okhema and someone else decides to join.

phainon x fem!reader, phainon gets called 'little one' once, (name) and phainon ARE in a relationship, a bit suggestive

"alright, it's miss (name)'s turn to wear the blindfold now!"

you crouch down to allow one child to tie a white cloth around your eyes, covering them completely.

"teacher, how many hands am i holding up?"

"fingers, rhea. you only have two hands. as for how many... five?"

"you can't just assume! what if i secretly have another hand—"

"rheaaaa! teacherrrrr! hurry up already! let's play!"

"alright, alright! don't rush me, theo! miss (name), you remember the rules right?"

at your nod, rhea lets out a tiny giggle and runs off in some unknown direction.

honeslty, you don't know how a perfectly good lesson gradually evolved into a game of catch.

one moment, the children were all well-behaved and paying attention. the next, they were practically begging you to stop and play with them!

sigh. you should really be more strict with them, this happens way too often. still, it's not as if you don't have fun playing with them.

focusing your attention to your surroundings, you strain your ears and hear shuffling to your left. maybe this game won't be too difficult after all.

with one quick step, you move and manage to catch hold of a tiny hand.

"eek! miss (name) caught me! aw man..."

"that's because you're always so slow, theo! anyone could catch you!"

"n—no i'm not! miss (name)'s just really, really fast! shut up rhea!"

"okay, pack it in you two. you still did a good job, theo. i'll let you be the catcher the next round."

even if you can't see it, you can still feel theo brighten up at your words.

"really? thank you miss (name)!"

the game continues on for a while longer, with you managing to catch a few kids here and there. however...

maybe you're just overthinking it, but why does it feel like there's something much larger than a child moving around you? the children have been snickering more often too.

...nah, it must be your imagination. maybe they're just more excited than usual today.

you raise your arms up, trying to feel the air around you and grab mindlessly at it while slowly shuffling your feet in the process.

this will surely help, right? it's not like my sense of direction could get any worse—

"ouch!"

seems like zagreus heard your thoughts, because now you've just bumped into a wall. or at least, you think it's a wall.

as you stumble back, you feel a strong and definitely-not-kid hand grab your arm to stabilise you.

the grip is firm yet gentle, you note. when they pull away in the next second, the warmth from their palm lingers on your skin.

well, now you know you weren't overthinking and there is in fact someone else.

"who was that?"

"u—um, that was me, teacher!"

"i'm pretty sure your hand is very much smaller than that, theo."

"it's—uh—it's a new student, miss! he... arrived just now!"

"...right. and would this new student care to introduce himself to the class?"

a moment passes before you hear the 'new student' clear his throat and speak up in a squeaky voice, as if imitating a child.

"ahem. my name is... pie-non!"

you try your best to hold back a snort.

"pie-non? what a... unique name. little pie-non, may i ask why you were late to class?"

"that's because i'm... i'm a new transfer! my family just moved to okhema, we were busy settling down and i was helping them! that's why i—*COUGH COUGH*—damn it."

clearly, pie-non had run out of breath and couldn't continue his voice acting. but because you have such a kind heart, you decide not to laugh. (for now)

"ah, i see. aren't you a filial little one, hm? here, you deserve a pat on the head."

raising your hand, you feel around in front of you and land on a broad chest. slowly making your way up past his neck and shoulders, you finally reach his face.

your fingers thread through soft hair, and you can't help but feel like you're petting a small puppy's fur instead of a human head.

at this distance, his warm breath hits your cheek and you can't help but move closer to savour the body heat radiating from him.

"mngh, (name)..."

the words come out all whiny, and you can't deny some part of you enjoys it, especially with the way he clasps your hand and nuzzles into your palm.

ah, he's always been so cute like this.

"haha, alright, keep it together. the kids are watching..."

"fine, fine. only for you."

pie-non chuckles and presses a tender kiss to your temple as he removes your blindfold. after your eyes finally adjust to the light, you see your lover phainon standing right in front of you.

phainon takes both your hands in his and places a kiss atop each knuckle, just as he always has when seeing you again after a while.

it never fails to make your heart flutter.

"you know, you really need to take acting classes. even five-year-olds act better than you."

"oh, i'm wounded! how could the love of my life say that? my acting was phenomenal, mind you. right, kids?"

"yup yup! lord phainon did reallyyyy well! now come on, let's play again! lord phainon will be the catcher this time! time starts... now!"

as the children scatter in different directions, phainon laughs and shakes his head. then, he offers a hand to you.

"shall we, my light?"

you place your hand in his, watching as his fingers wrap around your palm securely.

"lead the way, my love."

author's note: i wish to start off by saying a very big thank you for all the love and support my writing has been given, especially my sunday valentine's day fic. i...truly, truly did not expect that anyone would see what i write, but it seems i've underestimated the internet. no words can describe how grateful i am. i will continue to work hard and hopefully not let you all down. once again, thank you all so much!

signedbrutus

BRUTUS I AM BACK

I haven’t exactly gotten that far into gachiakuta, but I’m just so obsessed with Zanka!

Literally the “and your friend steve” song

Rudo is just so over protective of his only living family member, the only one who pushed through the crowd to fall down the pit with him, that he doesn’t wanna lose her or see her get hurt 💔

I can definitely see mc as a giver, their instrument would probably be something Regto gave them, something Rudo found and fixed for them, or maybe even something they found on their own.

I dunno though, so the choice is yours 🤭

Also I love Rudo so much HE’S JUST A BABY 😭😭😭 God when the flashbacks showed him when he was younger, HE WAS ONLY THREE APPLES TALL OMG

Sibling Bond [Zanka x Reader]

In which Zanka gets increasingly frustrated when his crush's brother keeps interrupting.

Reader is ── Female | Non-Giver Cleaner Story is ── Romantic | 1.8k words

Song Inspo ── Melancholy Hill by Grollaz Warnings ── N/A

kxsagi

I wanna piggyback in the idea of Enjin being a wingman. Imagine that he catches reader and zanka cuddling and having a nap together what would he do?

“𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬”

a/n: everyone needs an enjin in their life

it’s supposed to be a quick break.

that’s what you tell yourself when you sit down on one of the old couches shoved into the corner of base, exhaustion heavy in your bones after a job out. zanka drops down beside you, close but not touching, like he’s still pretending he doesn’t crave physical affection the way a plant craves sunlight.

five minutes pass.

then ten.

HQ is quiet. too quiet.

your head tips sideways without you realizing it, knocking lightly against his shoulder. you mumble a half-asleep apology, already pulling back–

zanka panics.

no, genuinely panics.

“wait–!” he blurts, hands hovering uselessly before finally, carefully, resting one arm around you like he’s defusing a bomb. his movements are stiff, awkward, but there’s something painfully gentle about the way he tucks you in, adjusts so you’re more comfortable.

you sigh. melt. gone.

zanka stares straight ahead, eyes wide, heart beating so loud he’s convinced the walls can hear it.

“… okay,” he whispers to himself. “okay. this is fine. this is normal. people do this.”

five minutes later, he’s out, too.

head tipped toward yours. arms secure. breathing slow.

it’s peaceful.

which is exactly why enjin ruins it.

he rounds the corner, ready to grab something – then stops dead.

his eyes land on the couch.

on you, curled up against zanka’s chest.

on zanka, asleep, face relaxed in a way enjin has literally never seen before.

enjin gasps.

like, full hand-over-mouth, silent scream gasp.

he crouches immediately, moving with the stealth of a man who absolutely does not respect boundaries. pulls out his phone. takes a picture.

then another.

then zooms in.

“oh this is GOLD,” he whispers, voice shaking with joy.

he circles the couch, inspecting from every angle like it’s an art exhibit. nodding. impressed. emotional.

“look at him,” enjin mutters. “arms around her. protective posture. my boy is SO DOWN BAD.”

zanka shifts slightly in his sleep, tightening his hold on you.

enjin freezes.

waits.

nothing.

he grins wider.

then, because he is a menace, he clears his throat.

loudly.

“AHEM!”

zanka jolts awake like he’s been shot.

“WHAT–” he freezes the second he realizes where he is. who he’s holding. his face goes red so fast it should be illegal. “I– THIS ISN’T–”

you stir, blinking sleepily, completely unaware of the crime scene unfolding. “… wha?”

enjin claps.

slow. deliberate. silent at first.

zanka. loses. his mind.

“WHY ARE YA LIKE THIS,” he snaps, mortified, trying to sit up without dropping you, which only makes it worse because he ends up pulling you closer by accident.

enjin leans down to your eye level, whisper-shouting with the intensity of a proud sports dad. “GOOD FORM. EXCELLENT CUDDLING TECHNIQUE.”

“GET OUT,” zanka growls.

enjin straightens, hands up in surrender, but he’s still smiling.

“i didn’t see anything,” he lies. “except everything. twice. from multiple angles.”

you finally register what’s happening and laugh, face warm as you shift closer to zanka instead of away. his brain short-circuits.

“… ya don’t mind?” he asks quietly.

“not really,” you mumble. “kinda comfy.”

enjin presses a fist to his mouth like he’s watching a proposal.

“i’m so proud,” he whispers, tearing up just a little. “nap buddies. the dream.”

zanka glares daggers at him.

“… i hate you.”

enjin grins. “no. you don’t.”

then he leaves, far too satisfied, already planning how to bring this up later in front of everyone.

zanka sighs, resigns himself to his fate, and tightens his hold just a bit.

worth it, he thinks.

aminah1706

⤷ ゛that always keeps you up at night˚˖𓍢ִ. ໋❀ ˎˊ˗

tired - beabadoobee

synopsis; after you ‘leave’, all they can focus on is the scent you left behind.

hurt no comfort, angst, doomed relationships, graphic descriptions of violence/being dead

characters; enjin, rudo, zanka, jabber

a/n; sorry for lowkey disappearing I’ve been grinding my ao3 acc. I wrote the last two rn and then Enjin’s and Rudo’s days ago. WAS supposed to have Amo but idk how to write her 😗

ENJIN - ALMONDS

Every morning, he’d walk into the mess hall and slip into the seat closest to you — whispering a sweet “how are you,” slightly rough from sleep. He’d still be dressed in his sleeping attire or something more casual, loose and warm. Wrapping a hand around his shoulder as he would adjust his chair so he’d be right beside you, he’d swipe a gulp out of your cup and be met with the smell that always seemed to follow you around.

Almonds.

Like warm, creamy, milky almonds that soothed you, grounded you and made you feel safe. You would take the cup from his hands and fake being offended, accuse him of being needy and he would only laugh into your face, pulling away to get his own breakfast.

It was like the scent came from you, like your body odour was almond and almond alone. It didn’t matter if you trained till you were sweating or coming back from a hard mission — that exact smell of almonds would fill up his nostrils instead of anything else that would make sense.

He’s convinced you’re using a perfume, body lotion or something artificial. Yet, he would never ask you directly about it, because he loves it. The sight of almonds in stores or cartons of almond milks in the refrigerator takes him back to the thought of you.

It didn’t help much after you didn’t come back. Complications after the mission they said, but he couldn’t really understand it. His head registered it but his mind couldn’t comprehend it. Seeing the supporters hold your bloodied and unconscious body into the lobby and hurry to the infirmary left him frozen in his steps, unable to follow after. Someone held his hand and shook him, Semiu—maybe, and even then he couldn’t go.

Twelve hours later, Eishia could only walk out of the room with a downcast expression, hands trembling in her clenched grip.

For a time, he couldn’t stand almonds.

It hurt, physically hurt, to smell almonds in certain shops and not see you as the source of it. It hurt not being able to be near you, sit beside you in early mornings, not be able to tangle his fingers between yours and pull you close, press his lips against yours with a gentle smile.

It hurt not smelling almonds anymore.

He didn’t know if it was to cope, but he would buy out every perfume with almonds as its top notes, desperate to find your exact scent. To spray it everywhere, soothe his lungs and let him breathe, ground him with familiarity.

But he couldn’t find it.

Enjin promised he would never forget the coziness vibes you had, always able to make him calm.

He made it all worse, all the perfumes were mingling and twisting his nose—he couldn’t remember it anymore.

It made it all worse.

He, oh so badly, wants you back—but he can’t stand the smell of almonds anymore.

RUDO - CHERRIES AND LYCHEES

Before everything went to hell, you stood there beside him and spared him a soft smile, tearing through his defences and making him weak in the knees.

You’d holler his name in the afternoons by his tiny shop with his recycled trash, wave your hand and give him a bright smile. And always, you’d bring an aroma of cherry and lychee with you.

It always confused him, because he didn’t know what the scent was, but he identified it with you. Nothing else smelled as nice as you.

Before everything went to hell, the two of you would hang out and stay out for a while, laughing and talking and running through the narrow streets, avoid the bullies and run all the way to his dad’s house.

Rudo would invite you inside with a poorly contained expression, pretending to be calm and nonchalant but crack with your pure politeness. Regto would tease him relentless after your departure, but only after Rudo followed you home to ensure your safety.

Before everything went to hell, you showed him a small shortcut into the rich side of the city and sneak into a back alley, hopping through a fence and into a beautiful garden — and stroll into trees where those cherries and lychees grew.

Rudo knew it was incredibly risky, but the second you popped a cherry into your mouth and the other pair into his, you introduced him into a world of fruits.

“Look! Now I’m wearing lipstick!” You’d smear the fruit across your lips, and Rudo would nod, fumbling to hide his blush.

The two of you shared a lychee with a smile coming from you, and a reddened face coming from his. In his naivety, he truly believed nothing would happen to the two of you.

When everything went to hell, he gifted you one last gift before it all. A small bunny plushie he sewed up and repaired just for you. Oh, how happy you became when he gave it to you. You squeezed it hard against you as you leapt towards Rudo with open arms and hugged him, kissing his cheek in gratitude.

You allowed him one last moment of contentment before he walked back into his home and found Regto’s dying body, the guy in the mask and Apostles restraining him for the death of his father.

You stood amongst the crowd with wide eyes, undoubtedly destroyed. He screamed loud that he was innocent, that he didn’t do it—but red on white was painfully obvious.

Your lips mouthed and formed letters and his own broken voice screamed for you. It was so hard seeing you cry, all he wanted as to eat cherries and lychees with you. “[NAME]! LOOK FOR THE—“

Air.

All he felt was vicious air run throughout him and his body falling down into the dark Pit below.

He can’t see. He can’t see. He can’t see. He can’t see. He can’t hear, feel nor smell you. He can’t see. He can’t see—

Glitch.

And into a heap of trash he fell.

ZANKA - CARAMEL AND AMBER

If you would ask Zanka personally what kind of smell is his favourite, he would point to his incense and make you guess. And for a long time, that choice of his remained his favourite — until you rolled around. Enjin had, once again, picked up someone valuable for a Cleaner and placed you in the Akuta Team, and at first, it was alright.

You were polite and friendly, which Zanka reciprocated easily. He had been grumbling slightly at the risk of meeting another Rudo, not being able to form the simplest of smiles, but the gentle, soft expression you gave him dissipated that thought.

The longer you stayed beside Zanka and walked around with him, stood beside him, trained with him, partnered up with him, laughed with him, ate with him, sparred with him, stretched with him, ran with him, everything with him: the same scent lingered after you like a trail.

Sweet, warm caramel with amber. You smelled like pure cookies, nutty and delicious. He’s honestly caught himself walking slightly behind you so he can take in the scent more.

It worked more in his favour the closer you two got to each other. Feather light, “accidental” touches turned more intentional. Breaks during spars turned longer, and the proximity between you got shorter. In the end, Zanka became yours the way you became his, and with his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, he stole a long, deep inhale.

You smelled so rich, it was intoxicating. It was driving him up a wall the way the caramel lingered on your skin, twirled and mixed with amber.

Though, not everything goes the Nijiku’s way. It’s his fault, always his. It always happens to him, because he failed as one. Staring down at your empty gaze as no light reflected off your irises, silence filled the arena.

How is it that he’s the one standing and you’re not? How is that you chose to throw him away from harm’s way and allow yourself to be vulnerable to the Trash Beast, tearing its toxic rusted nails into your back.

How is it that you’re dead instead of him?

How is it that you care and love him so much you actually sacrificed your well deserving life over an average joe’s existence like him?

The familiar scent of yours left along with your soul, and your vital instrument burned out, not even an ember left behind. He didn’t… he didn’t..

Collapsing on his knees and stammering, tears cascading down his cheeks as his hands pulled you close, choked breaths rocking out of him, he called out your name in the dark, quiet battlefield.

“C’mon! Don’t play with me [Name]! Get up—get your ass up!” He urged your cold hand, even helping you up — but your knees never straightened and your strength never returned.

As if a thread snapped within him — perhaps his sanity — loud sobs wrecks out of him and he holds you close to his heart, trying to make you able to listen to his panicked, erratic beat. Make you follow him, a part of him believes.

The rest of him does not, and Zanka’s own legs fails him and he wails into you, taking in your familiar scent. It’s foreign, replaced with the scent of decay and undeniable death.

JABBER — ESPRESSO AND CHOCOLATE

Sitting beside you at a bar for a discreet report about the latest assignment, Jabber glances towards you before giving you his undivided attention, almost awing at you. “Oh—damn you’re fine!” He shamelessly says, and catches the way your shoulders stiffen and the rigid hold on your cup by your lips.

You set your coffee down, bewildered. “What?”

He leaned in, observing your micro expressions. “I said, ‘damn you’re fine’ Got that?”

“What you should get is out of here! Good job for the report but I don’t know you!” You yelled, waving your hand away at him. Your reaction elicited a loud cackle out of him, which you grumbled at.

It was not the last you saw of him, because Jabber popped out of every corner lurking closely behind. Didn’t help that you were a strong Giver, you also just had the nicest scent he’d ever smelled.

The intense fragrance of espresso with the subtle savour of chocolates. Milk chocolate, to be exact. How you seemed to invade his senses with a single whiff from you has Jabber going insane. Being a Groundling, you must be used to the various of nasty smells that can easily upset your stomach.

Disgusting smells of corpses, throw up, spoiled food, toxins or more—and Jabber’s very familiar with toxins. But you ease that gross, nauseous scent with your own, and it isn’t overwhelming either.

It’s soothing and refreshing, like a clean whiff of air one dreams of to take.

Against your nape, Jabber leans in and breathes into you, inhaling your every exhale, suspiring your every respire.

Your sigh is his to take, your scent is his to take. His hands closing around your waist, pulling you impossibly close as blood floods down his nose—because of course a fight promises this kind of reward.

Your knuckles are cracked and bruised from raining fists on him, but he kisses and licks them clean. “Jab, what’s gotten into you,” you’d laugh, either by him tickling you or to break the silence.

And he’d answer with a bite on your neck, above what your communication collar can hide: “Your scent is driving my ass insane, did you drink coffee earlier?”

“Jab you know I drink coffee everyday,” you’d answer, and he would grab your hips and spin you around, a wide grin on his face as he inches close. “Then I gotta taste it.” He would smirk and meet you halfway.

Now? Bolting back to the nearest Raider base with you rocking in his arms, blood streaming out of you like a waterfall, a tight sensation haunted his gut. The wide smile he always seemed to have had been wiped off his face the moment the Hell Guard’s blade tore into your stomach, twisting and showing no sign of mercy as gore spilled out. He doesn’t remember what else happened, he can’t—your arm around his shoulders were gradually going weak and his grip on you was going tighter. Your pants of pain and moans quieted down to small wheezes, pathetic and subtle. Fuck, he can’t be late, he can’t be late. Don’t, don’t don’t don’t don’t—

“[Name]. Hang on, fuck—hang on.” Jabber spoke, digging his left claws into your thigh. “There, it doesn’t hurt, right? It doesn’t hurt, it shouldn’t hurt. [Name], I said hang on!” He shouted to no one, and about 200 meters away from the base, his feet stills into the gravel and his head slowly turns to you, eyes wide.

Suddenly he was staring at a dead body—holding onto a dead body. Your fingers—just minutes ago—tugged and held his dreadlocks hard, but now they were stiff by the thick strands. A blank expression passed over his face before it twisted, teeth clenching and he kneeled down, putting your body down simultaneously. “[Name].”

You didn’t respond. “[Name], c’mon. I’ll fix you the coffee you like. Get the fuck up and talk to me.”

Your glossed over eyes—now dry gazed up towards the sky, blood still wet by your chin. You looked alive, you were still warm. But you weren’t. Pressing his head against your chest, keenly listening to your heart beat, his nails dug into his palm in anger at the silence that met his ears.

“[Name]! For fucks sake! WAKE UP!” His voice eventually breaks, and his hands grasps you close incredibly hard, so hard it even hurts him. You would’ve pushed him back and scolded him for being too harsh, but you didn’t complain.

Nor did your eye twitch at the sound of his cry calling out your name desperately.

taglist; @lolliedolliee

varitaskyuu

As I’ve Written: Masterlist

—

Chapter 1: Miss Pink Elf

Chapter 2: ———

Chapter ?: ———

—

guilty-simppppp

Hear me out! Instead of og re4 + RE4R....re9 +RE4R together???

Mads please 🥵

harmonysanreads

Using Phainon or Varka or Mydei's arm as a neck pillow on public transports >>>>>

bluessmau

"Is This Outfit Too Much?"

In which GN!Reader texts their boyfriend, Trey/Deuce/Che'nya/Sebek/Silver/Skully an image of a singular string, and they ask the question above.

Warnings: 18+, Gender-neutral!Reader, sexting, dirty talk.

Trey Clover

sixsevenbtw-deactivated20260425

I'd like to think that nerd!jo is the type who posts on their insta notes every interaction he has with his crush and classmate, populargirl!reader

like, small interactions, he'd note that in the back of his mind. down to every detail. then when he gets home, he'd toss his bag by his chair, quickly change into comfy clothes then plop down in bed, phone in hand, feet up in the air swinging back and forth.

he's on his stomach, a wide grin on his face, eyes crinkling by the corners as he types things like;

new crush unlocked✔️

we held hands, OMGGG😍

guys... she looked like such a cutie today

her hair smelled soo good

and lastly, don't forget; rolling over onto his back, grabbing a pillow to muffle his giggles against as he recalls your moments for the umpteenth time.

and that isn't just after school. no, there are times where he gets too giddy and excited that he couldn't help himself but open the app right then and there;

guess who my partner is for lab👅

she's so sooo pretty up close omg🥹

guess who needed help with her homework...😊😊

LIBRARY DATE LETS GOOO

↳ not even a date, more like studying for an exam together. but it's alright, he's just delusional and absolutely whipped like that.

let's not forget the fact that whenever a friend or someone mentions his notes and asks him about it. he'd just giggle and respond with, "just a small crush."

and by small crush — he means a literal i'd-get-down-on-my-knees-for-them type of crush.

a/n: it's finally weeknd

a/n: edited a bit

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