↪︎ headcanons, gn reader, fluff, a little angst but very mild, mentions of an unspecified argument but it gets resolved, allusions to an anxiety attack, mentions of marriage.
↝ summary: headcanons about your and kenma’s relationship.
College bf! Kenma who can take all his classes remotely but still takes two in-person electives so that you both can walk together to and from campus.
College bf! Kenma who isn’t one to wake up early (the earliest he can wake up is 10 a.m.) but makes an effort to do so when he knows you have an important exam so that he can have breakfast with you and wish you good luck.
College bf! Kenma who doesn’t listen to music that often (maybe sometimes has a video game's OST playing as background noise while finishing assignments) but still listens to every single song you recommend to him.
He always tells you his thoughts on each song (even if he doesn’t particularly like it).
College bf! Kenma, whose anxiety prevents him from openly showing you affection in public, but makes up for it by clinging to you constantly while in private.
College bf! Kenma who, after spending the night, makes sure to leave at least one hoodie at your apartment.
He insists that it’s so that he has clean clothes to wear if he needs them but then gets pouty whenever you wear one of yours instead of his.
College bf! Kenma who loves having you sit on his lap or between his legs while he games.
Usually, he rests his head either on your shoulder or atop your head.
Whenever he gets bored or his wrist starts bothering him (you cannot tell me he wouldn't have carpal tunnel syndrome, lol), he leans back and wraps his arms around you, letting you take control for a while.
College bf! Kenma who cries when you two have the first “big” argument of your relationship.
He prides himself on staying level-headed in stressful situations and looking for solutions instead of panicking and falling into despair.
So then, why does he feel like this? Why does he feel so angry? Why does his skin feel uncomfortable? Why is his mind making up scenarios where you break up with him? Why does he feel like there’s a black hole where his stomach should be? Why does his chest feel like he’s on the verge of a heart attack? Why does he feel so guilty?
The last two hours repeat themselves over and over in his mind. Why did he say all those things? Why did he act that way towards you? Why did he hurt you like that? Why does he keep crying?
Eventually, you both calm down enough to talk and resolve the issue.
He decides that he never wants to go through that experience again.
Especially not if you felt even half as bad as he felt.
College bf! Kenma whose mom asks about you every time he calls her son.
If you happen to be around, she’ll always ask to talk to you for a bit (more like an hour and a half).
He's pretty sure she only calls him as an excuse to talk to you.
Eventually, he sends her your phone number and feels slightly offended that she doesn’t call nearly as often as she used to.
College bf! Kenma who keeps trying to convince you to move in with him as it would be more cost effective and convenient.
College bf! Kenma who, when you eventually agree to live together, lets you search for a new apartment as you insisted on starting fresh.
College bf! Kenma who, when you move into your new place, you drag out to Walmart at 8 p.m. to buy two cups, insisting that they’re a symbol of this new stage of your relationship.
College bf! Kenma who finds himself wanting to become Fiancè! Kenma more and more everyday.
finally posting this after having it sit in my drafts for half a year 🫠 i also finally learned how to make my html text work for the colored words lol. reblogs and likes are appreciated!
fluff, romance, kpop idol! reader, fem reader, secret relationship, private relationship, includes texts.
College Boyfriend;kozume, k.
headcanons, gn reader, fluff, a little angst but very mild, mentions of an unspecified argument but it gets resolved, allusions to an anxiety attack, mentions of marriage.
Every kpop group who has been active for more than 5 years has had at least one member involved in a dating scandal.
You yourself have been involved in several; from actors, to some of your coworkers, and even managers!
(your fans joked that you became a real idol the moment you were involved in a dating scandal with NCT’s Haechan)
Most scandals lasted from a few days to a week. Your scandal with Tobio Kageyama, however, has lasted three years.
It started simple enough: while on a live your groupmate asked you about celebrity crushes, to which you answered mentioning his name. You mentioned how you found him attractive and how incredible you thought it was that he became an Olympic level athlete at age 19.
Fans went nuts. Right after the live ended both of you were trending on Twitter. Since that moment, new theories about your “secret relationship” pop up every now and then, and it seems like nobody wants to let it go. Recently though, one tweet in particular has gone viral:
Hundreds of people agreed with OP. They argued that you two had had 0 physical interactions. You never mentioned his name ever again, and he never acknowledged your comment (or your existence).
So when a day after the post, pictures of you two leak and then two hours later your company confirmes that you’re dating, everyone is losing their minds so bad that twitter goes down.
this except it’s osamu miya, one of the top chefs in the country. you’re and up and coming foreign influencer and honestly have no idea just how big he is in japan. so when you both click while on a night out with mutual friends and then have the most life changing sex ever, he eventually realizes that his infatuation for you is bigger than the sins you commit against eggs every morning.
one time his brother made him hotcakes and he added a little too much vanilla to the mix. osamu proceeded to verbally degrade him to the point he didn’t even attempt to make hotcakes for the next two years.
↪︎ angst but very mild?, comfort, college/university au, no curses au, reader is very stressed.
↝ summary: megumi comforts you after you break down due to academic stress.
There’s a feeling of pressure on your chest, and a growing pit of despair in your stomach. You fucked up. Big time. Your teacher had given you a topic to make a presentation about a month ago and yet here you were, a week before your due date, not even having a clue of what the hell the topic was. As you stare into the google calendar tab open in your laptop you realize that not only were you supposed to present the topic in a week, but also turn in two different group assignments and an individual one. On the same day.
Almost mechanically you pick up your phone and open the messenger app.
Megumi’s always been more of a night owl. His body is used to staying awake until sunlight threatens to spill over the horizon. He knows it’s not healthy but even if he tries to sleep at a normal, decent hour his mind remains restless. So he does what he’s able to: assignments, projects, pre-reading for lectures, reading books he enjoys or has been wanting to read, listen to music, make playlists with songs that fit the vibe of a very specific picture of you he has in his gallery, watch a movie, etc.
It’s 11:56 p.m. when his phone starts vibrating over and over again. He can’t help the feeling of irritation that bubbles up inside him, thinking that Yuuji or Nobara are spamming the group chat with TikTok slideshows of “ask your friends which ‘blank’ are you!”. Although the feeling is immediately replaced with worry and slight curiosity when he sees it’s you who has been spamming him for three minutes straight.
His eyebrows furrow when he notices you’re texting with correct spelling, no emojis, no jokes in the middle of the conversation and capitalizing the first letter of every text. He reads over the messages you’ve sent so far to grasp an understanding of the situation. When he gets to the bottom of the chat, he gets up and grabs his shoes and keys while still paying attention to the still incoming messages you’re sending him.
You’re startled when you hear a soft knock at your door, stilling your fingers from expertly moving across the keyboard on your phone. Your eyes remain on the door while you wait for the sound to repeat itself, just in case you misheard or imagined it. Your phone vibrates softly on your hands, displaying a text from Megumi: “open the door”. You get up and do as he ordered.
Once he’s inside your small campus room, he speaks. “Okay, now tell me everything slowly.” You do.
“… oh, did I also mention that I have two midterms that same week? And that quiz that we were supposed to present last week but the teacher changed last minute.” You can feel the headache creeping up your spine. You bring your hands to your head and rub your temples.
“And I know what you’re gonna say: ‘complaining about it isn’t gonna help you at all’” you make your voice sound deeper and more monotone to make it sound like his, “It’s just- It’s really frustrating. I don’t know why I can’t seem to just sit down and do things, like you do!”.
He doesn’t say anything and you’re thankful for that. “It’s like—I know I have stuff to do, and I know it’s very important that I do it right. But I just can’t seem to ever find the motivation to do it. And then I’m left in spots like this one where I’m gonna have to pull a miracle out of my ass to actually turn in everything I have to turn in this week.” He listens to your rant patiently. Even rubbing your thigh when he notices your eyes crystallizing and tears starting to well up in the corners of your eyes.
After sitting in silence for what feels like hours, he finally speaks. “Do you want reassurance or a solution?” “Both. More reassurance though.” You both move to make yourselves more comfortable.
He’s sitting down in the floor with his back against the side of your mattress. One of his legs is bent and the other is stretched. Your head is now resting on his outstretched thigh. His long fingers find themselves running through your hair, an action that you commonly direct towards him whenever he finds himself unable to fall asleep while sleeping over in your room.
“I think you’re gonna make it out of this.” His voice Is soft, but assertive. “And yes, you have some awful time-management skills that we need to work on,” a snort leaves your nose “However last time you were able to give that other presentation while only having studied two days prior. If you try hard enough, everything will be okay. We’ll be okay. I’m gonna help you.”
You’re pretty sure the tears are running down your face at this point. You sniff tour nose. “Thank you.” Megumi leans down and gives your forehead a kiss. “But now, we need to get some rest. We both have early clases tomorrow. Well, today, technically.”
You get up from your position and make it to your bed. He’s hugging you while your head is on top of his chest. From this position you’re able to hear his heartbeat slowly lulling you to sleep.
can you tell i’m proyecting with this one? i literally wrote it at midnight. stress is eating me alive, so please excuse me if this seems like a self insert. i know people who are currently dealing with a lot in uni, so i hope this can help you if you’re going through the same.
this blog contains mainly my works. for reblogs, answers and conversations, please go to my main blog: @hhoneyhan
english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical and spelling mistakes.
୭ | i write…
fluff. angst. nsfw. dark content: stepcest, dub-con, age gap, power imbalance, etc. character x reader. fem reader, but sometimes gender neutral reader.
୭ | i do not write…
anything to do with urine or feces, really extreme kinks (just ask me beforehand). character x character ships.
୭ | please refrain from…
asking for personal information, spamming, starting drama, criticizing me or my readers for the content in this blog, requesting character x character ships. just hating overall—criticism should be constructive.
୭ | when it comes to requests…
i will take the ones that i feel like writing, so please don’t feel offended if I don’t respond to yours. it usually depends on my mood or inspiration. also, keep in mind that i am a student and a person with a real life—my updates might be slower from time to time.
You start out by grinding the coffee beans. After you tamp it, insert the portal filter in the machine and place a cup under it, you take another portal filter and repeat the process. Afterwards you froth some milk and pour it in one of the cups, making a heart with the milk's foam. You feel proud of yourself for getting better at making latte art in just a couple weeks. While humming a tune you heard on social media, you pour water on the other cup and then place both of them on a tray, setting them aside temporarily while you clean everything up.
Once you're done, you grab the tray and walk towards the small balcony of your apartment. You set the tray on a small table, next to a dark haired man. He seems lost on thought, only reacting when he hears your soft footsteps behind him.
Even though winter is days away, the temperature of Saint Petersburg proves to be unforgiving of those not accustomed to it. "Those" clearly referring to you as even while wearing multiple layers of clothing, you could clearly feel the chilly weather creep up your spine and causing you to shiver. The man next to you chuckles.
"Is my suffering entertaining for you?"
"Not at all. Although, we could go back inside if you're feel too cold."
While he does say it with genuine concern, you can feel a hint of playfulness in his voice.
"You're not even wearing socks! How are you not cold?" You whine.
Fyodor laughs softly.
"I was born in Moscow. Winters there are much colder than this." He takes the latte and takes a sip. "Besides, I grew up here. I got used to it as a child." You did not know that. Your hand reaches out to get the remaining cup.
A comfortable silence falls between you. It lasts long enough for both of you to finish your coffees.
"I wonder if our children will like the cold."
His head is turned away from you so you can't see his expression, though you're pretty sure the pink tint on his cheeks isn't caused by the sun.
↪︎ fluff, fedya having a soft spot for his lover, reader is sick, gn reader, written with a fem reader in mind tho, references to irl dostoevsky’s life, surprise angst at the end, mentions of death.
↝ summary: when you become ill and are unable to fall asleep, he reads to you. the action feeling both familiar and distant to him.
You sneeze. Four times, actually.
You getting sick was highly inconvenient for Fyodor, as it prevented you from fulfilling your duties as a member of the Rats in the House of the Dead. He had to disregard plans and work his way around being down not only a member, but also the best assassin in the organization. Not to mention how it not only affected his organization, but also the Decay of Angels.
As annoyed as he was with the whole situation, seeing you in such a miserable state didn't bring him any kind of joy. On the contrary, he felt his heart hurt when he saw your teary eyes and heard your hoarse voice. Not that he would ever let you know that.
He stands up from his office set up and heads to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He can't concentrate, so he decides that he might as well check up on you. That is, of course, because he needs you to get better so you can get back to work immediately, and not because he heard you cough a little too much and a little too hard.
He places the glass on the bedside table. He hears you thank him weakly. "Are you okay?" he asks uninterestedly but scans your face for any kind of discomfort. "Tired..." you sneeze after you answer.
"Then sleep." He hands you a tissue, which you barely muster enough energy to take.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't know."
Fyodor sighs and then leaves the room. Your eyes start tearing up again, this time because you want him to stay with you. The whole image is comical: a killer as cold and ruthless as you, crying miserably because their boyfriend wouldn't spend time with them? Even if someone were to see it with their own eyes, it would be hard to believe.
Fyodor returns to the room with a book in hand. The cover torn and creased from the passage of time. It is Fyodor's favorite. Even if he rarely touched it, you knew he held a great fondness for that book in particular.
He lays down in the bed and looks at you expectantly. While your moves are slow, he waits patiently for you to make yourself comfortable against his chest. He opens the book on the first page.
"On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked away slowly..."
His soft voice and regular heartbeat lulled you asleep.
A young dark haired man lies kneeling at the foot of his bed. His head is hung low and his fingers are intertwined. After he finishes his prayer with an "Amen", he gets up and heads for his mother's room.
He enters quietly and finds his father already there, sitting on a chair by his mother's side. Her head turns upon hearing the door opening and a warm yet tired smile makes home on her face.
"Fedyen'ka." Her voice, although strained and tired, sounds happy to see him. "Come here, my angel. Your father and I have something for you."
He is given a book.
On a late night while talking to his mother, he had entrusted her with the knowledge of his passion for literature. Talking about some of the books he had managed to get his hands on, weather by acquaintances of his lending him some, or by the old man in the shoe shop who let him stay a couple of hours after his work ended just so he could read some of the books that he kept in the backroom of his store. That night his mother promised him that for his sixteenth birthday, she would get him a book of his own.
She had never broken a promise, yet there were still two months until his birthday. Fyodor understood at that moment that his mother was probably going to die before that.
A simple "Thank you." is all he could muster.
That night he was unable to sleep. His father went out to tend to some business, so the house would've been completely silent if it weren't for the coughs of his mother.
He gets out of bed, grabbing the book from the wooden dresser next to the door to his room. When he enters his mother's room, the coughing stops.
"Oh, Fedechka, did I wake you up?"
"No, mother." He takes a glass of water from a table nearby and puts it up to her lips. She takes a few sips. "Are you unable to sleep?" She nods.
He leaves the glass back on the table and grabs his book. His mother's gaze follows him as he moves to sit on the chair where her husband usually sat beside her. He opens the book on the first page.
"On an exceptionally hot evening early in July..."
She falls asleep with a smile on her face as she listens to her son's voice.
Two days later, Maria Fedorovna Dostoevsky would pass away.
Fun fact: i spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to understand which Russian pet names and nicknames are most common, just to end up not using any because in my head they’re already speaking Russian.
If you recognize what he's reading, ur hot. Ahhh I'm so in love with fedya, but i’m not sure if i like how this turned out...
↪︎ angst, heavy stormbringer spoilers, stormbringer references, mentions of death, gore?, a little bit of body horror, panic attack.
↪︎ 1.1k words.
↝ “…you hold him. because that's the only thing you can do for him when he's in this state. so you keep holding him as he screams.”
whenever someone meets him for the first time, they usually have the same impression: an arrogant, crass, young man, who only got to where he is because of his strong ability. he was blessed with a fearsome gift that could end entire groups in an instant. after all—no one can escape gravity.
but nakahara chuuya is more than just an ability.
he is a man.
he is a friend.
he is a human.
or at least that is what he tells himself while staring at his reflection on his bathroom mirror, after waking up from a very particular nightmare he had from time to time. chuuya didn’t dream. at least not often. ever since fighting paul verlaine, he started dreaming every now and then. however his dreams weren’t the nonsensical kind that he heard most people had, no. his were memories.
some felt like distant lifetimes: going to school and playing tag with his classmates, helping his mother set the table, eating dinner with his parents, trying to climb a tree (and failing miserably) and getting hurt, his dad tending to his wound, watching his mother do her makeup, eating a popsicle underneath a tree.
common childhood memories.
except he didn’t recall living these events. he couldn’t have. because nakahara chuuya didn’t have a childhood. he was born in suribachi city at the hands of a team of scientists. arthur rimbaud freed him from the glass cylinder he was contained in. there was no way he had ever lived those memories.
but those dreams were pleasant, even when they served as a reminder of the normalcy that he would never have in his existence.
his nightmares, however, were a whole different story. there were nights where he would wake up disoriented, the feeling of electric currents flowing through his body as vivid as ever. he could feel his skin burning, almost as if he had been skinned alive and his nerves were exposed bare.
other nights he would wake up and couldn’t help but cry. he would cry for hours until either his body exhausted itself or the sun rised. on days like those no matter how hard he tried, he could not get rid of the smell of blood he felt when he entered the pool hall, the feeling of albatross’s hand going limp between his, the splat of lipmann’s body after it hit the floor, the image of what was left of doc’s body, the expression iceman had on his face.
he felt like his senses weren’t there with him, almost feeling as if they were in a different reality than his body.
“This isn’t a present. This is a flag. Ever since the days of Ancient Rome, there has only been a reason to raise a flag: to tell people, ‘We are here, and we are the chosen ones.’” it was lippmann’s voice.
chuuya tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. shut up.
“If any one of the six of us is ever in trouble, you remember that flag and gather under it.”
chuuya realized that he couldn’t open his eyes because they were already open. everything was dark. please shut up.
“We’re counting on you.”
he looks down. he’s in a street, no, a road. in front of his is a blond man wearing a familiar hat. the man was smiling: a different kind of smirk twisted his lips like a black flower blooming—a most unpleasant smile.
the trunk of the car opens. something falls out of it and hits the floor with a sound.
chuuya doesn’t look. he can’t. he recognizes the sound—the sound of a body hitting the floor. of course he recognizes it. it plays in his head over, and over, and over again. chuuya doesn’t look.
“We’re counting on you.”
it was lippmann’s voice.
but it sounds wrong. it sounds strained, almost drowned. it sounds dead.
chuuya looks. he wishes he hadn’t.
he sees lippmann's body in a state that can only be described as destroyed. his bones are crushed, his skin is rotten, worms are crawling out of a hole in his throat, a piece of his skull is missing.
and chuuya tries to scream, just like he did when he first lived it, except nothing comes out. he can't hear anything. he can't feel anything. tears start welling up in his eyes and that's when he wakes up.
you toss and turn restlessly on your bed. even when covered by the thick duvet, you felt strangely cold. you extend your arm, patting the bed next to you, but open your eyes when you feel nothing beside you. you sit up on the bed and scan the room with your eyes.
you get up and cringe a little when your bare feet touch the cold marble floor. you head for the living room, as he usually stayed up reading whenever he couldn't sleep. you hear shallow breathing. you stop.
"baby?" it's coming from the bathroom. you approach it and carefully open the door. "chuu?" your voice sounds clearer now, and your senses become more alert.
as you enter the bathroom your eyes move around and land on a silhouette on the floor.
he is holding his hands over his throat. he can't breathe. his eyes are lost. you kneel in front of him and take his face in your hands to turn it to look at you. he can see your lips moving but he doesn't hear anything. he feels like he's dying. please knock me out.
"what's wrong, baby? what happened?" your voice comes out desperate. think rationally—you tell yourself and back away. his pupils are constricted, his eye movements are erratic, he's sweating and he clearly can't breathe.
you call his name but he doesn't respond, so you grab his face again and caress his cheek with your thumb. he looks at you. he sees your lips moving again. there's ringing in his ears but he can feel your gentle touch on his face. slowly, he starts to make out the words that come out of your mouth. it's his name. over and over again. one of his hands moves to grab your wrist, the other one falls to grab onto his thigh.
"chuuya. scream." your face is serious but your voice sounds tender.
"wha-"
"you need to scream. do it, chuuya. scream. please."
he opens his mouth and tries again. he can hear it this time, so he keeps doing it. he continues to scream until his throat feels raw and burning. he starts crying as well at some point. you bring his face to your chest and rest your chin above his head. his arms wrap around you.
you hold him. because that's the only thing you can do for him when he's in this state. so you keep holding him as he screams. and even when he's quieted down and sunrise covers yokohama in a pinkish-orange tint, you remain in the same position: holding him.
i have a really important test tomorrow, and i haven’t studied a thing. med school is really kicking my ass :')
i've been sick and miserable for the past few days, so i re-read stormbringer. the lippmann scene hits me hard every time. i'm not really sure who the artist of the fanart i used is, so if anyone knows, let me know so i can credit them.
↪︎ suggestive, only a little bit sad, dazai has trust issues (same tbh), dazai is whipped.
↝ i wrote this at 2 am and i don’t even know if it even makes sense.
he sometimes wondered if you had used your ability on him —an irrational fear, sure, but a valid one nonetheless.
he had seen you take out entire squads; war veterans, foreign ex-soldiers, secret agents, none of them were strong enough to face you and come out sane. sometimes he could relate to those poor souls whose minds you’d broken.
your ability allowed you to manipulate someone’s will. this made you capable of controlling others’ actions, emotions and even their wishes.
dazai knew that as long as he touched you, he had nothing to worry about, he could nullify you skill after all. but having that knowledge made him even more unnerved.
because it meant that everything that he was feeling was real.
dazai had thought about it before: would he kill for you? die for you? would he burn cities? destroy organizations? would he be willing to let his walls down? to bear his heart out to you? would he be willing to get better? to let himself be loved? to become human again?
the answer was yes.
and that terrified him.
“…are you listening to me?”
his gaze remained fixed on the ceiling for a few seconds, then he looked at you.
“not really.”
you sighed and got up from his chest. he followed your moves and you sat on top of him, straddling him. his hands instinctively moved to caress your thighs and then found themselves underneath the oversized shirt you were wearing.
“i was saying that after we finish this mission, maybe we could go to that pastry shop yosano has been talking about.” you put your hands on his his shoulders and then slide them down to his chest.
even if all the emotions you caused inside of him overwhelmed his brain to the point of exhaustion, he would not trade the feeling of your hands running across his body for anything in the world.
“of course, my love.”
you lean down and kiss his forehead, then his temple, then his cheek, then his jaw and finally you go back up to his lips.
but you don’t kiss him.
because that’s something else about you that drives dazai crazy. you make him work for it. if he wants to go out with you, he has to finish all of his paperwork. if he wants to stay over at your place, he has to clean up his first. and if he wants to kiss you, then he has to close the space between you two.
sometimes when you love someone, you have to compromise on certain things. your boyfriend has proven this to you time and time again.
like for example when he took you to watch the minions movie at the same time his friends went to watch the new terrance and phillip movie.
or when he ditched school just to spend the day with you at your house because you had an appendectomy and couldn’t go to school for a week (his mom beat his ass when she found out).
or even now, when he’s being made fun of by cartman for having a matching profile picture with you on discord. but honestly he couldn’t care less, because watching you smile every time he goes on call with you is totally worth it.
Craig has a tendency to be quiet. It’s not that he’s anxious or he doesn’t want to have a conversation, he simply prefers to observe – and because of that, he notices.
He notices how you always keep your bag on the left side of your chair.
He notices how you keep every piece of paper your friends give you, even if it’s just a post-it with a dick drawn on it (courtesy of Kenny).
He notices the way you try not to check your phone whenever you get a notification, and when you ultimately fail, he also notices the way you try to suppress a smile and your whole face lights up when you see it was a text from him.
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