・❥・amina *.*

Masterlist - continuing

JOJO’S BIZZARE ADVENTURE (EVERY PART)

✧.* dances

⇢ ˗ˏˋ tough ྂ

: ̗̀➛ corny joke + obnoxious laugh

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ playing on the heartstrings

༊*·˚ smile

new nephew cousin ✥◣

DUNGEON MESHI

highly affectionate *࿐

Reversed

GACHIAKUTA

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚~ protective or possessive ~

.｡❅*⋆from abroad : ̗̀➛

↳ bitty bitter bites ༉‧₊ ❞

╗swept off your feet ⍣*̥˚✧

ღ fallen under my spell ‗ ❍*

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷* unlock my love ╝

₊˚ʚ ‘m outta control, baby get me *•*•*

┗❘༻la parte del cuerpo༺❘┛

┗❘༻tu alma vacía༺❘┛

✽✦✽ <— “you’re the bane of my existence” —> ✽✦✽

*ੈ✩‧₊˚sweetheart ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

: ̗̀➛ wash it all away + cocoa vanilla haze .ೃ࿐

➸ 29 pearls + camellia and marula ✼◦•≫

≡- ꒰ °locked in your eyes, don’t set me free ꒱

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

.⋅ ۵ b♡♡m b♡♡m expl♡si♡ns! ۵ ⋅. pt. 2

'*•.¸functional modern nijiku siblings¸.•*'

❤︎ ⋅.˳ but this time I need to feel you ˳.⋅ ♬

⌖ keeping you around 𓆪✶˖.˳ P1 🪦

˗ˏˋ before i was ೄྀ࿐ P2 🪦

ﾒ bad expectations ᯓᡣ𐭩 P3 🪦

DEATH NOTE

⟢ cobalt in the rain and my persimmons dyin’ ۶ৎ

⤷ take me to bed ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

╔ tranquil in the pond˚˖𓍢ִ 🦢 

L Lawliet x GN!Reader & Nate River x GN!Reader (separate)

Relax, calm moments with the Wammy boys ༉‧₊˚. 

(L’s dialogue is inspired by the DS game: spiralling traps)

(Moreover, possible out of character moments with Near as this is my first time ever writing him)

a/n; is it just me or is not only Tumblr stubborn as hell, but my text colorizer sites? NOTHING is going good today. no dividers, no gradient text no nothing!!

L “Ryuzaki”: 440

“You shouldn’t have to feel obligated to do this, you know?” L reminded, still in his seated position in his wheeled chair as you hold up a plate of chocolate banana crêpe, fresh cream choux bun, and cherry. It was only the two of you in the serene, sombre room. Despite the lack of windows providing a clear indicator of the time, the digital clock on L’s many screens told you it was inching morning, nearing 05:00. 

Still holding the plates of desserts in your hands, you set down the choux bun and cherry, and slice a bite size amount with the side of your sliver fork, before stabbing it and bringing it close in front of L.

He doesn’t dare reject the thin, crepe wrapping around creamy, rich chocolate and sweet sliced bananas, topped with whipped cream. It has L salivating. It is one of his favourite desserts and you know it. Well played [Name], he says internally. Well played…

“Come on, open up.” You urge him. Well aware that he wouldn’t come to bed sooner or later, neither would you now that you’ve been up a while, might as well do something. You were an investigator on the case, but L had yet to introduce you to the others on the task force, well aware that the suspect among them, Light Yagami, would maybe attempt something. He wasn’t sure what, but he wouldn’t risk it when it came to you. With an apathetic expression, L gently turns his chair towards you and opens his mouth with an “aah”. 

You slide the crêpe inside, and L’s eyes widens before narrowing into a pleased quarter-smile. As he chews and swallows with the aid with his coffee on the table, he adds a fun-fact. “The colour of a cooked crêpe depends on the amount of sugar in it.”

You sneak a bite to yourself, enjoying the sweet treat as well. “Really? I wasn’t aware of that”

“Yes,” he confirms. “Thank you, this was exactly what I was craving for.” He grins, taking the fresh cream choux bun. He takes the bite of the bun; lips smeared with white cream before pressing it against your lips. You blink before biting into the treat. “Did you know that in French, “choux” translates to “cabbage.”

What’s with the fun facts today, you wonder. Not that you’re complaining. Listening to random facts and hearing L go on a tangent he’s passionate about with a collected, calm expression warms you. 

It continues till the sun peaks through the clouds in the early dawn, where the two of you talk, exchange bites and enjoy each other’s company. 

N “Near”: 494

After an extensive and productive day of finding out Kira’s identity, and eventually the hard evidence that will reveal itself in the sooner days reaching January 28th, Near held your hand and guided you two at what felt like 1 in the morning. 

He was tired, you were tired; both of you wanted nothing more than to sleep in each other’s arms. There was no need to change into new clothes when Near was already wearing sleepwear and so were you. Sinking into the mattress and getting under the duvet elicited a deep sigh out of you. 

“[Name]?” he respired. 

You barely open your eyes to see his head of white hair and instead tug him closer to yourself. Near welcomes you instantly, settling his arms around your middle and slotting a leg between yours, focusing on getting as comfortable as possible. 

Once that has been achieved, with Near nuzzled into your neck as the two of you embrace each other, you reach for his hair and twirl a section of the back between your index and thumb. “Hmmm,” you practically purr, voice raspy and rough from the lack of use mixed with exhaustion. 

“It seems you enjoy using me as a teddy bear more than I do.”

You crack one eye open and look down. Your arms tighten around him, resulting with his nose butting against your collarbone. You laugh breathlessly, feeling tickled. “I do. You’ve introduced me with this form of cuddling, and I’ve taken a liking to it. Sorry Near, but I’ll keep you hostage till the morning comes.”

“Ah, how unfortunate,” he doesn’t sound opposed to the idea at all. On your exposed skin, you feel his lips stretch and smile. “Till morning? How cruel of you.”

Given the warmth and the proximity between you two, it doesn’t take long before you fall asleep, safe and sound in each other’s arms. 

As sworn, when sunlight spills into the room and ultimately wakens Near, he finds himself the one holding you like a toy plush, your back pressed against his stomach, spooning you. From what the daylight tells him, he should be up and awake—but the warmth makes him drowsy and along with the comforts of the duvet, soft mattress and you, he falls asleep once more after kissing your nape, curling his body closer into yours.

When it got too late and the rest of the agents were wondering where you and Near were, Gevanni headed to your room first to only find the two of you fast asleep, cuddling each other.

Surprised by discovering your secret and clearly hidden relationship, as Near acted so impassive towards you, and vice versa, he exited the room and headed back to the main room.

(With a sly grin, told the other agents about the news.)

⤷ take me to bed ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁

synopsis; L Lawliet making GN!reader fall asleep with his ramblings (about the heart)

#TeamL

wc ~1310

2:48 AM

You zoned out to the sounds of the bustling traffic outside, a reminder to your stubborn consciousness. 

Sleep was something you found easy, before all this about the Kira case become known, and now, as you lay in your bed, tired but not tired enough, you think. You think about anything; your mind goes over what you did today from morning to evening, and you find enough energy to snort a bit at the recollection of Matsuda stumbling over his feet where he thought no one noticed. You bring your hands up to your face, breathing into your palms. Wiping away the stray tears that run from your tear ducts. You yawn, jaw stretching wide. Tired isn’t a strong enough word to explain your current state. You’re beyond that, so much that you’re beginning to cry out of mental and physical exhaustion. 

Weary, drained, drowsy and worn-out fits better. 

Heat tingles beneath your fingertips. You feel hot and that’s keeping your brain at a slow pace. You’re also comfortable, covered in a huge duvet with a soft set that feels nice against your skin. 

Though, this isn’t enough to get you to sleep. With a defeated sigh, desperate for anything, you roll over to your night table to seize your phone, pressing on the recent No Caller ID from earlier calls. 

The phone rings a couple beats until it connects. “Yes, [Name]?” His voice comes through the microphone so undeniably smooth. “You should be asleep at this hour.”

L’s voice eases the tension in you, and you take a moment too long to answer. “I can’t sleep,” you yawn. “If you’re not too busy…, could I come over?”

What sounds like a teacup being set down on its coaster clings quietly from the line, before his voice comes through, pleased. “You are free to do whatever you may, my door is open.”

You end the call with a smile and slip out of bed. 

As promised, as you made your way to L’s chambers, his door was slightly ajar, light spilling out from the tiny space the door frame allowed. You held the door by the edge of its structure and walked in, met with the sight of L sitting on the bed for once. An authentic butler’s style table tray was placed close to the bed, adorned with the complimentary desserts and sweets L enjoyed. 

You walked over to him, but your focus was rather on the many, bright screens involving the Kira case. Latest batches of deaths, little to no clues, video footages pulled up and more. You were getting tired of it, not in a good way. 

“[Name].”

The sound of your name made you turn, and L stood beside you, his hand loosely holding yours. “You didn’t respond,” he said, back hunched over and his face up close in your personal space. You didn’t mind it, nor react to it. You simply held his hand and interlocked your fingers between his, sighing aloud. “My mind’s too preoccupied and it’s keeping me up.” He pulled you to the bed. “I can’t seem to fall asleep.”

“Is there a particular reason?” He sat down beside you, pulling his legs up as he reached for the pack of raspberry gummies on the table tray. He gave it to you after having opened it and swiped a handful. 

“No. I mean, yes—it’s the case getting to me. For every waking hour I think about it as we work. How is Kira doing all this? How did he figure out he could do this? Why is he—no, we know of that, his motive and all. It’s clear through his selection of victims; he must want to punish criminals as the ‘righteous God he is’.” You stuffed three gummies into your mouth, chewing slowly and rubbing your eyelids. It was pretty good, so you looked over L’s shoulder to find its twin, a peach packet. 

“Could you pass that sweet over?”

He looked behind him, “this?” “Yes, thank you.”

For a moment, silence filled the room and it felt peaceful. It remained peaceful even when L’s voice, flat and almost suave, filled the quiet. “Do you wish to hear me talk about the human anatomy?”

You blinked, both raspberry and peach gummies in your mouth. “Oh, sure—why not?”

꒰ঌ ໒꒱

“—and then lastly there is the heart. It is located between your lungs in the middle of your chest. People assume it is in the left side of your body, and there is a reason for it. The heart has four chambers, which the upper chambers are called atria, and the lower ones are ventricles. The left ventricle is the largest and strongest chamber and is the reason for the heart’s asymmetrical shape. The size of it makes it lean towards the left, which is why your left lung is slightly smaller than the right; it has to make space for the heart,” L rambled, keeping his voice at a constant level. Your head rested on his shoulder, half-lidded as you nodded away to his words, occasionally humming in response. 

It was well past over 3:00 AM, maybe 3:15 or even 3:20. You couldn’t see the digital clock from here, not with your blurring eyesight, and the clock hanging over the door at the entrance was a lost cause. You didn’t dare move anyway. The grip around your fruit gummy packets were starting to wane. 

“Our heart is around the size of our fist, if not even bigger. Additionally, the average heart beats 100,000 times each day, pumping about 7,571 litres of blood. The aorta deals with pumping blood from the heart to the rest of the body. That is why the left ventricle is larger than the other chambers, because it must be able to deal with the pressure of blood being pushed out from the heart. It is continuous and something we cannot control.”

Warmth envelops around your hand, and you take a second (if not, several) to realise L’s holding your hand over his chest, making you feel for his beating heart. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. It’s an easing and soothing feeling. 

Your eyelids droop at it, and L’s arm coils around you to get closer. He sets down his legs; brings you over and gently pushes both of you down the soft bed to lay down. 

You stir slightly, and L adjusts your head over his chest, ear pressed against his sternum. Through the quietness outside the windows where cars drove through with no issue, shady people walked through the streets and leaves were flying off of trees due to the wind, you listened to your lover's steady, loud heartbeat. 

Your own heart started to pick up the rate, and you felt your face become red. From whatever you were going to say, you melted into L’s embrace and forgot all about it.

“It makes the two of us, [Name]. You were thinking of Kira and his mysterious methods of killing. How is it that he focuses on heart attacks? How can he suddenly make blood flow in an individual’s heart reduce or get blocked? He is never there in the room when he kills, proven by the Lind. L. Tailor broadcast back in November, so how does he do it? Your situation is quite relatable as I find myself in many sleepless nights thinking about it too.”

“Uhh-huhhh...” your eyes close on its own, and you finally slip into unconsciousness. All you hear as your ears feel the rhythmic vibration of his heart is his apathetic, unchanging tone lolling you to sleep. “[Name]?”

You didn’t reply. 

“Seems like I was effective. Sleep well, hmm,” he strokes your back. If you looked up in time, you would have caught the easy smile on his face as he held you. 

⟢ cobalt in the rain and my persimmons dyin’ ۶ৎ

l ”ryuzaki” & childhood friend gn!reader

synopsis; as light makes himself acquaintance with L, or rather Ryuzaki, making his way into the Kira investigation to gather as much information he’s quickly introduced to you. Someone like L – who have been making their way up the massive list of most famous detectives in human history.

It doesn’t help the fact that you two are friends.

characters; light yagami, l “ryuzaki”.

reader is referred as [alias] but if this is bothersome, give feedback so I can improve in future detective!reader dn fics.

reader has odd quirks. reader prefers savoury food.

not beta read, prologue (?)

“Would you mind if we put your deductive reasoning skills to the test?”

Light felt the headache pounding in his head grow with every minute he spent in your and L’s presence. Between L’s strange yet analysing behaviour zeroing in on every word he spoke, making him cautious in everything he said, you had an energy that told Light; “Hey, be wary around them, too. One mishap and everything we’ve build will come crashing down.”

It didn’t take much effort from Light to hide his clear dislike towards you two as he looked at you, sipping his coffee. “No, I wouldn’t. What does this entail?”

The aroma of your food filled their table, and you turned to Ryuzaki. “You’re under no obligation, you’re free to decline. Since you are willing to participate,” he dug into his back pockets, “it’ll do some good if you succeed.”

Oh, will it now?

He smiled. L—no, Ryuzaki—places printed notes on the café table and takes a sip of his overly sweet coffee. Light takes them and looks at the contents, reading the suicide letters prisoners wrote before their deaths. With Ryuzaki’s legs folded into his chest as one of his hands cupped over his kneecap, you sat beside him with your left leg tucked beneath your right thigh. In front of you was an Italian salad sandwich, already half eaten. If it wasn’t bothersome already to have a set of black, bulging eyes stare at him, your eyes seemed to gaze right through him, then snap back at his face as you took another bite of your food, still staring at him. Both of you were strange, Light wondered.

“And of course, take as much time you need. You’re under no rush,” you added after Ryuzaki’s short summary of the notes, leaning your back to rest against the wall behind.

“Interesting,” Light spoke after a few seconds, then went back to the notes.

You and L focused on Light, allowing you to think for yourselves about what Light, the current top one suspect in the case so far, had in mind. The recently graduated man read over the letters, taking a hold of two in one hand and switching orders. A subtle slide glance over to Ryuzaki—where he met your eyes—signalled you twos hypothesises. How would he react? If him and you were correct on the fact that Light, indeed, is Kira, he would be childish in his failure rather than understanding and accepting the loss. It would also strengthen Kira’s and Light’s matching arrogance in the deduction, if everything would go as planned.

The two of you looked back as if nothing had happened, right on time for Light’s analysis.

“It would be quite amazing to learn that not only could Kira kill others but also control his victim’s actions. I think Kira wrote these and it seems he’s encoded a message for you as well, almost as if he’s mocking you, Ryuzaki.” He set the printed photographs down.

He couldn’t say much about you, since your name (or rather, codename) wasn’t world known. He was unsure how you were related to L, an intelligent man known all over the globe, but he suspected you were of some value. Your mind or your practical skills, your abilities and what you can do to make yourself useful. He can’t think much of that at the moment.

“If you line these notes up side by side and take a look at the first letter of every line, it reveals a message: ‘L, do you know? Gods of Death love apples’. But because of the print numbers on the back of all these photographs, you’ll be almost forced to arrange it in that order. From that, you get ‘L, do you know? Love apples Gods of Death’. It doesn’t sound right and based on that; I don’t think it was meant to be read that way.”

You looked almost bored weren’t it for your impassive expression. Ryuzaki looked straight ahead with a monotone voice. “That’s incorrect.”

Light faltered. What?

You spoke up this time, setting down your sandwich. “In reality, we received four photographs. Add this to the collection, you get, ‘L, do you know? Gods of Death who love apples have red hands’.”

Light looked down at the new, fourth letter. It’s a fake. I never made any criminal write this letter. Are both of them stupid?

The Yagami furrowed his brows. “But seeing as I only had three photographs to work with—my deduction was perfect.” He said, sourly. “No, it wasn’t. The truth is there were four of them and had you thought of another picture, then it would be perfect. Even though you knew the message was incomplete, you decided that there were only three notes. Never considering that there might be a fourth.” The black-haired male stared at the brown-haired suspect, and it was then he realised his mistake.

Damn it—this was never about my reasoning skills, but rather my reactions! And after how I just reacted, I’ve just given them more reason to suspect me…

He returns to his false humbleness, tilting his head and sighing with a soft smile. “Well, you got me there. I never thought of a fourth photograph. I don’t think this message will lead you to Kira, and besides, we all know Gods of Death don’t exist.”

The white, ceramic plate in front of you held only crumbs and bits of tomato where you had finished your lunch meal. You tapped your lips and dried your hands off of any sauce smears, spraying antibacterial on your hands after. “Say, Light,” you gauged his attention. “If you were us faced with someone who might be Kira, how would you prove this person’s guilt or innocence?”

His reply was instant, the delay was caused by the rim of the coffee cup pressed against his bottom lip. “I would probably try to get him to say something that was never made public, something only Kira could know.

Kinda like what you two were doing just now.”

Ryuzaki spared not much of a change in his expression, but his eyelids did lower. Although, you rested your elbows on the hazel table with a weak grin, leaning back once more to adjust your leg’s position. “Yes, yes. Much like what we were doing just now.”

Got him.

You looked over to your left where L met your eye, and a single understanding linked your thought processes together.

Light Yagami is Kira.

But how would you two go on with proving that?

You glanced back right before all of your phones rang off.

.

.

Soichiro Yagami has suffered a heart attack.

a/n; small thing I thought of. also, I’m going for death note fics! yay!

ﾒ bad expectations ᯓᡣ𐭩

im crine || part 1, part 2, part 3

tags; angst, jabber tweaking, zanka’s a vic for the 3rd time, flashbacks from previous parts so mentions of ORGANS

characters; jabber wonger, zanka nijiku

a/n; okay my brothers and sisters, I didn’t expect dis to get so lore-y, so I hope you enjoy this angst, oh and, my text colorizer tweaked again💔.

GUYS NO MORE PARTS AFTER THIS!! this was supposed to be a one shot 😭

cw; 928

A small huff from afar made him open his eyes. 

“C’mon Jabber, don’t be like that.” You smiled, laughter bubbling up from your throat as you ran down the empty parking lot. He doesn’t recall getting here, but seeing you run off like that – carefree and giggling, loosened up the weight on his shoulders. “Hey—heeeeeey!” His voice echoed. “What’chu think you’re doing!” He laughed, before bolting and catching up to you.

“Wait—waiiittt!—hahahahaaa!”

Your smile was like sunlight warming on his skin, refreshing and so, so comforting. You sidestepped at the last second before he could grab you, resulting in him stumbling onto the ground. 

“Yo—don’t make me hit you.”

Jabber grinned. “Please, do.”

“Ughh,” you groaned, before the corners of your mouth curled upwards. “Jabber,” you uttered. 

“Why do you have Mankira out?”

He paused, confused, before his gaze trailed down to his hands – a bright glow illuminating his hands. Oh, Mankira was out. But he doesn’t remember activating her. Nor ending up in this parking lot with you. Jabber opened his mouth as his focus went back to yours when he felt something dig into his stomach, taking him by surprise as he was sent flying – coughing out blood simultaneously. 

Alarms rang in his head along a headache, throbbing and pulsating against his temple. Someone was shouting at him, you, but it didn’t sound like you. No, what—

“Jabber?”

His instincts took over, allowing him to land safely as a silhouette appeared at his left, and Mankira flew up to parry the devastating blow. 

Jabber?

(You were laying on top of the table, face obscured by the shadows where the kitchen light made all your organs glisten. You looked ethereal.)

Jabber.. I’m cold.

He leapt back, heart beating erratically against his chest. A long weapon—steel like Mankira’s talons slammed against him, and he sluggishly fell down. He looked at your hands, strangely bare. “Why aren’t you wearing… your mittens…?” 

It’s cold. 

Jabber…

“The hell—are ya talkin’ about!” You shouted—the other shouted. That wasn’t your voice. No, no no no. A pang, no, a creeping sensation of confusion tangled itself up inside of him. That’s not—where were you? Sweat began rolling down his face, and once the gush of smoke dissipated, Jabber was met with the sight of another. Not you.

The hell—?!

It did nothing to relieve the feeling in his gut as his claws blocked Lovely Assistaff’s side blades from cutting him up, but the skin-crawling contact of the two Vital Instruments hitting each other distracted him from the pain, the truth. Zanka stepped back, overly cautious in his moves—nothing like your battle style. You were always quick and effective; truly the only person who could put him down to his knees. 

That Cleaner was a weak comparison to what you could do. You. 

The dreadhead straightened his back, anger coursing through his veins. “So damn pathetic...” Jabber growled, tilting his head low so he could look at his attire. He was bloody, but the blood had dried up uncomfortably on his skin and clothes. How he got here, he can’t tell.

Nausea crawled up his throat. “You ain’t like… like ‘em at all…”

Zanka’s grip around Assistaff never weakened. The distance between them was great, but the eerily quiet parking lot carried an echo that allowed him to hear Jabber’s murmur. “Hah?” he spoke.

Jabber looked up, pure fury and hurt etched across his face. He looked unhinged too—like the last loose screws had finally let the insanity loose. 

“I said you ain’t like e’m at all! Your fighting’s trash—and you’re pathetic as shit!” He screamed, voice hoarse. “This is like, what, our third fight and you ain’t doing no damage! Seriously, how weak can you be!” [Name]’s strong—so why can’t you be too?

He watches as Zanka’s expression change; eyebrows furrowing and his eyes widening, his jaw twitching at every insult. Jabber can’t be bothered by that as he dashes forward, reading Mankira. 

The last thing he sees before his claws sinks into Zanka’s stomach is the glint in his eyes. Yours carried confidence and sureness that guided you into beating him into a pulp. 

Zanka had none of that.

Jabber bit his lip, making sure the toxins spreads throughout the Cleaner’s body. He’s taken back to the many moments in his past life where you stood over him, either your knuckles or Vital Instrument covered in his blood and begs for more. 

(“Jabber, hmmm. Was I too cruel?” You tapped at his cheek, snapping your fingers over his head. “Hello~?”

He couldn’t even breathe properly, but satisfaction sank deep into his bones. “Tha—that was perfeccttttt..”)

You really were gone.

Jabber wondered as to how that happened. 

You whispered against his cheek, low and guttural, as your hands wrapped themselves around his shoulders. He was high out of his mind. He overdosed himself on Mankira, again, but that didn’t stop him from curling his hands around you, too. 

“..J..J-Jabber…” 

You have never sounded so quiet before, so meek on his lips. As he pressed his lips against yours, they were wet – tasted like stale strawberries. 

“Mhmm,” he hummed. You were pretty cold, why were you so cold? “Big J will warm you up~” he drawled. 

From a distance outside of the warm, sombre apartment, a loud boombox could be heard from the third floor. It’s a song he recognises, meaning you do too, and something inside him tells him that he understands. 

“—baby, join me in deathhh~”

He didn’t understand it back then, but it fitted so well in that moment. 

He wished that it didn’t.

˗ˏˋ before i was ೄྀ࿐

synopsis; jabber x reader before your death

tags; fluff, then angst, hurt and comfort, dissection and mentions of organs again

a/n; ask and you shall receive! also me; looking at the other asks in my inbox I still haven’t but hey! at least my text coloriser works! also now I’m rereading the ask and i lowkey… didn’t give that? more like a cute moment more than that so. yeah. I just probably read better….

cw; 1102

part 1, part 2, part 3

November 7th

Footprints caked in snow, leading from the exit door into the hallway to your room made it all too easy for Jabber to follow pursuit. It was your apartment after all. He knew every little crook and cranny of your home; where you hid weapons in case of an emergency, where you stored your better blankets, your snacks, the various drinks he contributed to your fridge and more. He also knew all your little habits, tiny clues that explained how you’d behave before you even saw him. 

Much like right now. Snow dirtied the hallway. 

You not even bothering to take off your shoes before heading into your room? Err, somethings up. 

“Yoooo, [Nameeee]! ‘M barging in,” he announces from your hallway, kicking off his pale-beige shoes and slipping into your bathroom to put on some fluffy socks that rested on top of the washing machine. It was dry, thankfully, and Jabber headed straight to your bedroom once he had made himself comfortable. 

“Heeeeeeeeeey.”

Once he opened your door, he found you face-first into your pillow, outer jacket discarded on the floor and your left leg hanging off the mattress. A small noise escaped him, a giggle or a sigh, he couldn’t tell. What he could say was that he was very amused, so it could’ve been a giggle. 

“Yo, [Name]. What’s your problem?” He walked up to you, sitting on the left-over space on your bed. The mattress sunk under his weight, and he threw your legs over his lap, cupping his hands over the backside of your thighs. 

You only reacted with a jolt when his innocent hand-placement trailed up to your ass, squeezing the plumpy shape. “Dude—!?”

He laid down beside you, staring into your tired eyes. You were pretty exhausted and kinda snappy. Well, you were already like that, but not like this. 

“I said what’s up. You didn’t even take off your shoes.” “So?” You retorted, deadpan. 

“’So’, you ain’t like that. That’s like, seeing me not use toxins. That isn’t normal.”

You groaned and leaned back, but Jabber straight up wrapped his arms around you, ignoring your grumbles as your face mushed up against his collarbone, legs tangled with yours. 

The fat zip up of his jacket dug into your breastbone. It was juuust at the edge of being painful, thanks to the grey sweater you were wearing. (Ignoring the fact that it is in fact, not yours but Jabber’s. The one he had forgotten at your place months ago and you have just snatched it. Whenever Jabber whines that he wants his hoodie back, you stare at him with a dumb face, even saying “get a load of this guy”, gaslighting him.)

The grip around you signified Jabber’s final statement and you knew he would just keep the two of you hostage unless you talk, which you eventually do the moment you heard him yawn. 

You grunt. “It’s nothin’… I don’t even—” 

“Just tell me, bruh. This bed is getting too comfortable and if you don’t talk in the next two minutes, I’m falling asleep.” The other interrupted you, adjusting to get even closer to you.

Ah, man. A sleepy Jabber is a pain to deal with. A cuddly Jabber even more so. Your lips move faster than your brain does, and you only register what you say after you say them. 

“I failed a mission and Zodyl’s disappointed. I know—it’s so stupid, but boss had real expectations and I blew it.” You crumple into your partner’s embrace, subconsciously gathering your hands under his shirt for warmth. If he shuddered due to your cold hands, you didn’t notice it. 

Arms tighten around you, and you look up to catch the other Raider’s face, impassive and unlike the gleeful expressions you’re exposed to. His eyes narrow, perhaps to blink or gaze down at you, but his free hand pushes the back of your head into his collar, making you snuggle even closer. Your breath heats up his neck, and this time you feel the shivers that runs down his spine, the slightly quickened pulses on his neck you feel against your face. 

“Right, the retrieval mission?”

“Mhm,” you nod, your eyelids growing heavier with each moment. “Ah, so it was a bust. I can only imagine how the boss man reacted... *yawn*. But wasn’t it a duo mission?”

You wearily nodded, allowing your eyes to close. Jabber’s body heat, even through your clothes, was comforting and inviting. You almost didn’t answer Jabber until he lightly nudged you. “Mmm, uhuhh. Some other girl, I don’t remember her name but, she carried the last bit where I failed. It was just… planned for me to do it..”

“Oohhh, get it.” Jabber hummed against you, then yawned – stretching his back simultaneously before letting a satisfied sigh at the stretch. By the time he sank back into the mattress, you were knocked out cold, hands holding his bare waist and you nose pressed against his neck. 

Jabber smiled with a knowing grin, mentally tapping himself on the shoulder.

His long hair, wicks sprawled around the pillow and behind him felt like a comfortable weight as Jabber pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead, cuddling even closer till he could feel your heartbeat pulsate against his.

“Sweet dreams, baby.”

You only snored in response. 

February 18th

Your body lay on the table of the apartment, heart back in your chest cavity – tucked away behind your lungs and rib bones – and your torso sewed up. It was exhilarating at first; probing and touching your organs – blood splatters and smears getting all over him as he grinned over your corpse. Excited and happy beyond what any fight could provide him as he held up your intestines, gliding over your liver, squelching noises and organs smacking against the wooden table, the rush inside of him coiling tighter and tighter, the wild glint in his eyes getting even wilder. 

But now, you lay there like a reminder. Like the froth on the ocean’s waves, you’ll remain regardless of what he does. Each wave will roll over and over like an unceasing loop, much like the reminders of the present that will snap his focus back on the fact, over and over again.

You were dead. 

There was nothing he could do to change that. 

The coldness of your fingers grabbing at his blazing-hot skin will never happen again.

“…” Jabber stares hollowly at the ceiling, forearms sticky with blood. 

Each suspire feels worthless without you to respire with him. 

It’ll be a painful realisation once the drugs wear off.

⌖ keeping you around 𓆪✶˖.˳

synopsis; jabber x reader whereas he keeps you around after your death

tags; dissection, gore-content, dead reader

a/n; smth I keep disappearing… it's just I'm on that ao3 grind you feel me? OH AND MY FLIPPING TEXT COLORIZER WON’T WORK! so now I’m posting like this… uncoloured… ugh.

cw; 773

please, enjoy

Adjusting the way he sat on the sofa, leaning into the cushions; Jabber held a comfortable grip around you. 

An arm coiled around your middle, fingers shamelessly going under your shirt. His body was warm against yours, but in no way was it heating you up. 

Similar to the times in the cold, harsh winter whenever the temperature dropped too low and Jabber would cup his hands over yours in an attempt to keep your blood circulation going (teasing you while he did it). Being so close to you, in this state, has completely killed his sense of smell.

Bad smell has made it familiar with Jabber. He had to be familiar with it, every Groundling had to be, cause of the trash storms and toxic rainfall that came and went throughout the years. 

Another smell one had to be familiar with was the scent of death. The smell of flesh rotting and collecting flies as if it was a beacon in the darkness. Jabber didn’t mind yours as his breath hummed against your lifeless body, cuddling you like a lovesick partner. 

“—and then on my way back here, I saw this sign of someone’s jeep say something like “no hymen, no diamond,” which had me stop in the middle of the crowd. But can you even blame me? That’s a craaazy sign to casually hang on your jeep!” Jabber rambled, chuckling into you. 

If he could listen intently, maybe all that came out of you was a death rattle, or gas bubbling in your lungs. Who knows, he’d had to cut you open for that. 

“…”

Now that didn’t sound bad at all. 

The Raider shook his head, patting your head. Nono, he couldn’t get himself worked up like that. You didn’t respond, not that he particularly cared. Jabber knew you so well by heart that you’d have a visceral reaction to his thought and tell him no. 

“Plus, what even is that saying? Is dat something people say nowadays?” Jabber slung a leg over the sofa’s structure, leaving it dangling over the back—but the thought of dissection (dissecting you) wouldn’t leave his mind. By the way the support of his leg left, you leaned more into him, stiff in your movement.

“Hey…” he spoke up after minutes of silence. “Would ya be mad if I cut you open, baby?”

Once again, you didn’t respond.

A sick, wide grin stretched his lips from ear to ear, and Jabber stood up from the sofa, taking you with him in his arms. “I bet you’ll look real cute all bloodied up, hmm?” Jabber exclaimed with a breathy tone, biting his bottom lip at the scenario that’ll play out in the next five minutes. 

He set you on a table and put his hands out, letting his hands engulf in a captivating pink glow, crackling apart to reveal Mankira.

“Would you let Mankira cut you open like this?” Jabber moaned, cheeks red. “Heeeeeey, [Naaaaameee]. Would’ya let me hold your heart?”

Your eyes were slightly ajar with dry eyeballs, your cheeks sunken in, skin impossibly cold. Your chest never raised and your empty gaze never locked with his dilated pupils staring into yours, asking for consent that will never be granted. 

In some portion in his mind, Jabber has convinced himself fully that you’d let him do this to you even alive. 

“Oh… [Name],” Jabber sighed, bringing Mankira’s talons to your cheek in a gentle scratch. “You really are just like me.”

In the floor-length broken mirror with shards missing from its frame, Jabber held up your bloody organ in his palm, in awe as he studied the veins and structure of your heart. The rest of you were astonishing, but nothing else in the world beats holding the love of your life’s bloody heart in your hand, knowing you were the centre of it. 

Jabber smiled, actually smiled, and held it up by both of his hands, careful so that Mankira doesn’t pierce it. The light in the ceiling exposed his gory hands, but also your insides. The smooth glide your lungs had, the density of your muscles, your bare torso – all for him to study, touch, let his hands trace all over so he’d never forget you.  

Bringing your dead heart to his face, Jabber pressed a feather light kiss to your bundle branches between your left and right atria. Blood coated his lips as he then hugged it, aligning your non beating heart with his fast-beating one, erratic as it pounded against his lungs. 

Jabber’s head tilted back, letting out a guttural sigh. He has never felt so in love before. 

❤︎ ⋅.˳ but this time I need to feel you ˳.⋅ ♬

❤︎ inspired by ride it - jay sean ❤︎

synopsis; they can’t handle the teasing anymore, they need you to be theirs, badly

tags; sfw, insanely short drabble

characters; enjin, tamsy

ENJIN

His hand circled around your wrist and held loosely around it as he pulled you closer to him, leaning against the door — your only exit. In the past few months, Enjin had made his interest towards you as clear as he possibly could be, and he knew you liked him back.

How could he not?

The way your hips seemed to sway a hitch more side to side whenever he strolled behind you in the hallways. People around didn’t exactly see you do this, but they could see the way his focus was shamelessly at the curve of your plump ass.

The way your eyes lingered and trailed down his tattooed arms every time he wore a baggy tee that exposed them, irises sensuous and soft. How you managed to wrap him around your pinky, he doesn’t know. All he wants is you to stop the damn torture.

His back pressed against the door to your bedroom as your frame relaxed against his, his hands resting at your waist. “Is it ‘bout time you quit the stalling?” His eyes stilled in yours in a matching glint that anyone could see as “want”. You slyly cast your gaze aside but roamed your hands up at his shoulders, before whipping your attention back at his poorly detained need. The need of you. He needs you.

“[Name], c’mon,” his eyebrows twisted.

“I’m not doing anything,” you laughed quietly, inching closer to his jawline. Your right hand had snaked up behind his neck as you shifted the weight on your feet, lying against him fully. “I won’t leave.”

His golden eyes looked bright the way the light in the room brightened them up. His arm curled around your back as his left hand cupped the side of your face — fingertips disappearing into your hair as he guided himself to your lips, kissing you softly, humming against you.

He knows you won’t leave. As much as you have him hooked, he has you too.

TAMSY

In the comforts of his own room, his blond-navy blue hair was free from the half up-do he usually styled it in as you sat on his bed, eyes narrowed like his were. His focus was much on the shape of your lips, corners curled up at the sight of him. Back slightly hunched as your left leg crossed over your right.

He had almost missed the way you spoke of his name hadn’t it been for his undivided attention realising your mouth formed after the letters of his name.

“Preoccupied with your mind, hmm?” You asked sweetly, tone honeyed as you uncrossed your legs and stood up, sauntering towards him with your alluring gaze on him. Tamsy’s feet were planted right where they were as the subtle scent of your perfume filled his nostrils and mind. Your presence alone drove him insane—he couldn’t possibly handle the already prolonged teasing. How long were you willing to keep this up?

It was so strange knowing someone like you held such effect on him, it was dangerous. Yet, he didn’t care about that the moment your warm, comforting voice cooed and your fingers coiled around the blue strands of his hair. “You’re a rare beauty. Just so gorgeous,” you spoke directly into the shell of his ear. “How is it that someone of your handsome self could like someone like myself?”

“How could I not?” Was his instant reply as his hand dared to touch your face. A featherlight coolness hovered over your lips as his blonde full eyelashes fluttered, keeping a captivating eye contact that you couldn’t tear yourself off of. “Will you be so gracious and cut to the chase, [Name]?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea to what you mean.”

He cracked a smile. In the room where afternoon light bled inside like spilled paint from the heavens above, his lips met yours halfway as he kissed you, eyes closing shut.

Red hues dusted his cheeks as air puffed against his small labret piercing, rendering his senses useless.

You might pretend you don’t have an inkling, but he’ll be as clear as day to show it to you.

'*•.¸functional modern nijiku siblings¸.•*'

synopsis; somewhat healthy nijiku siblings, more closely on goka and zanka in this one

a/n; in my way… yeah.. SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING I’VE BEEN GONE FOR MY AO3 but then my motivation and post streak died… apologies for that! But bro. the latest chapter was insane and omd omd finally another panel of our rare sighing of our dear cleaner aaaugghhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!

Goka would be that type of older brother to make banging breakfast and wake you up to try it.

He doesn’t seem like it, but the moment the door to your room opens and he comes up right at you, shaking you awake to try his food; you’ll have no choice but try his food.

At around 8 AM in the morning, Goka stood alone in the kitchen as sunlight painted the counter in a yellow gleam, brightening the living room. Having just finished and placed the flatbread on the plate, Goka brought it up close to his face to study the pure delicacy he just made. A cheesy scrambled egg wrap with a flatbread, seasoned with one of his favourite spices along with a spicy mayo spread on the wrap. And yes, served along with orange juice.

Goka Nijiku, the second born child of the Nijiku family fucking loves oranges, mandarins and tangerines. All of them, whether juice, physical fruit or dessert form. If it has oranges, he’ll eat them.

Ever since a coworker from his job had been kind enough to share their meal with him after he had rolled out of bed late (tardiness was something foreign to the Nijiku—all of the Nijikus, actually. Goka had been a little pale in the face when he looked at the time that day), he hadn’t bothered to return to his usual breakfast meals.

Instead, he replaced them all with this exact breakfast ever since his coworker introduced him into a world of endless possibilities and opportunities. A rare smile crossed over his face, and he practically purred as a groan of satisfaction vibrated off the cheesy egg wrap he forced inside his mouth, blessing his tongue with a world of warm joy. He swallowed the bite and chomped down another, downing the bite with a gulp of his orange juice, and man— that just hit the spot just right.

As Goka ate the food up like he hadn’t eaten in days, a distinctive thought amongst the cloudy others passed through his mind which made him pause.

He should make Zanka one. Kyouka unfortunately isn’t home right now, having awoken earlier and headed out already. But it’s a Saturday and Goka’s aware of his little brother’s schedules. No school, no hangouts nor planned studies that’ll have him walk out the house in an hour or two.

Standing up abruptly and walking off—before spinning back to finish his wrap in a single huge bite and washing it down with his juice, Goka snaps his fingers and punches the air with his tongue dancing inside his mouth.

Okay, okay, he’ll make Zanka one.

—>•<—

Placing the second plate on the kitchen table, Goka washes his hands and dries them, filling the glass cup with cold water with ice cubes — Zanka’s preference — and shuts the refrigerator door as he strolls down the hallway to his room. Light cuts into the darkness of his brother’s room as Goka steps inside, bending over as he shakes him awake. “Zanka. Wake up, I made ya breakfast.”

The teenager mumbled something at him before heading right back asleep. “Zanka, cmon. I made ya food,” the older repeated, taking seat on the bouncy mattress as the younger groaned, arms wrapped over his face. “Mmmggghh,” the male voiced, something Goka couldn’t decipher as words. Half asleep Zanka never made sense.

He ain’t here to make sense of Zanka’s incoherence, he’s here for him to try his breakfast—said breakfast that is slowly going cold and Goka doesn’t want to spend time properly waking his brother up just for the food to not slap by the time he finally tries it. Because of this thinking, Goka deduces that his current plan in his head is more fitting.

“Aight, don’t complain now,” Goka grins as he throws Zanka’s duvet off of him and hoisted him up, earning a disgruntled screech out of the other. “WoAH! Goka!?”

“I said what I said, yer trying my food whether you want to or not.”

Zanka groaned as his head hang over his shoulder. “C’monnnn I slept late last night.” “Not my problem, yer eating.”

With a defeated sigh, Zanka put no other fight up as Goka carried him into the kitchen and set him down on the stools, looking at the said breakfast before him. It’s a thick wrap, light brown with cold water in his designated cup. Nothing too fancy, but he’s seen nothing so far. At his opposite end Goka sat over him with a waiting look, peeling the outer layer of an orange. With a tired huff, Zanka picks up the wrap (comfortably heavy and warm in his hands), taking a fat bite—

—his eyes flew wide open, and a cheese pull connects from the inner parts of the wrap to his big bite, struggling to digest it. In no other way to describe the deliciousness in his mouth, Zanka nods his head lazily with a slow, bleary blink, sounds like mmm’s escaping him.

Goka smiles as he’s finished with his second orange and third tangerine. “It’s good, right?”

“Mmmhhh.” Uhuh, Zanka nods again.

“So I better not hear yer ass complainin’ next time when I wake ya for your next meal, yes?”

Zanka swallows and drinks his cold water, sighing deeply. “That was so good—where did ya learn to make food like that?”

“Someone from my job. Damn worth it.”

“Damn straight,” Zanka takes another bite, throwing his head back in satisfaction. Holy, his mouth is thriving. “Ya g’tta mak sum fo Ky’ka, ‘kay?”

His older brother only laughed, eyes shut as it bubbles out of him like nothing. “Zanka—don’t talk with yer mouth full!” He says with no bite at all, and the younger only shakes his head as he gobbles up the food like a man on a mission. Zanka doesn’t usually forgive those who just wakes him up for no apparent reason, but he will forgive this time, he’ll actually allow this to happen again.

Goka catches his head before it hits the plate below, his hand engulfing his whole face. Another stifled noise comes out one, before another laughing fit escapes the him. “Okay—don’t go sleeping mid meal either! It wasn’t that good for ya to pass out!”

Oh, brother. It was.

Zanka mumbles into his palm, still chewing on the scrambled eggs and the flatbread, eyes barely focused. Damn, it knocked him straight out.

It really was.

On weekends, it was a mission accomplished to succeed waking Zanka early in the morning and not anger him.

Goka clapped himself on the shoulder managing to feed a sleepy Zanka and carry him back to his room.

He just had to share his breakfast with someone else too, he just had to.

.⋅ ۵ b♡♡m b♡♡m expl♡si♡ns! ۵ ⋅.

PART 2

characters; rudo, follo, fu, tamsy

a/n; fun fact! two people had actually requested for a part 2 like this, just one character difference (+follo, -zodyl) and I lowkey grew lazy at zodyl so I cut him out (idk how to write him but I haven’t even started to so what am I doing 😭) additionally I’m like, thinking because I wrote too lily x goka crackfic on ao3??? Man idk what I’m doing, also! less fighting here? more interactions idk..

RUDO ♥

In the jeep where he sat beside Zanka after having…fought with him, he notices small talk a pair of legs propped up against the window in the back row of the vehicle. Confused, Rudo focuses on the legs and keens his hearing to the soft voices behind him before Enjin, driving, calls the two behind him out. “When did you two get in here?” He says, looking at the front mirror. Riyo lets out a sight and sits upright as you do the same, leaning over the seats to look at the new guy. It’s the Sphereite Enjin had talked about earlier over the communication chokers when you and Riyo were walking down the hallway. Your choker chirped and so did Riyo’s, making you two stop in the middle of the corridor. 

“Just wanted to see the new guy,” you say, smiling cheekily as Riyo plays with his hair, “this your natural hair—wow, kinda impressed.”

Later on, while Riyo showed the new guy—Rudo—around, you found him sitting alone on the communal couch in the hall room in the evening, drowning in a blue hoodie, staring at the ceiling with a glance that was glazed over. You tilted your head, trying to read his expression as you collapsed on the cushion next to him, snapping him back to reality.

“Ack—oh,” he choked, wide-eyed with the deepest crimson shade of eyes you’ve ever seen. “He-llo! You were spacing out just now.”

“Oh, uh, was just thinking,” he turns away from you, holding the opposite side of his face with his gloved hand. The easy smile on your face softens as your gaze drops to the design of his oversized gloves, then back at him. “You doin’ okay? I understand dropping from the Sphere and ending up here must be jarring.”

He lets out a small heave. “Yeah, it, it is.” His fist clenches. “I just have to find my way back up there,” he leans his head against the headrest and sighs, looking up once more at the ceiling.

Before you leave, you look at him for the last time, kind in your expression.

“I’m sure you’ll achieve that.”

He looked at your back as you walked out, and thought about your words

Yeah, he will achieve it.

FOLLO ♥

Now, when he first found out you were a new Cleaner, he was hesitant to make himself known to you. People still cling onto the ideology that Supporters are doing nothing, useless people who wants to claim a spot within the organisation and a string of other insults he rather not repeat. But then he heard from Tomme who heard from Gris that Enjin was the one who picked you up. Probably in the same way he picked Riyo and Zanka—seriously, where is he getting all these teenagers??

Nonetheless, he hoped that you would be different. 

And holy moly, sure you were. Follo’s super happy that you’re not a – ‘cuse him— downright bastard like some other people in the organisation. He had to almost drag you off of the guy who cussed him out for no apparent reason, and you got mad at the guy, spewing insane curses and insults that had everyone else present in the mess hall gag and gasp in disbelief. He bit his grin and cackle behind your nape as he tore you from the room and pulled you into the hallway, barely holding on.

Not only that, but you’re a whole ‘nother powerhouse in cleaning up Trash Beasts. He, Gris, you and Zanka were doing the usual bunch of cleaning and exterminating Trash Beasts when he hears Gris sharply inhale, face widened. Follo spares a glance over his shoulder when a sudden flashbang and a wave of intense heat washes over him, the gush of wind throwing the two of them against the rock wall. It’s loud—rocking in his ears as a cry escapes him. The explosion leaves as fast as it comes and from the source of the smoke runs towards the main Trash haul of anima and soul—and Follo can’t believe his eyes.

It’s you. But. But you—what the—it is you but, you’re wearing—no, your head is a metal ball? No, that’s not it—

A cape of bombs strapped to you flows stiffly behind you and he watches you chuck a dynamite into the Trash Beast’s mouth. Life flashes before his eyes and he hears Gris’ muffled voice—drowned out by the ringing in his ears to cover his ears.

Can’t hear for the entirety of the mission

Seriously, he can’t hear shit

He and Zanka had to visit Alice’s clinic

Just in case, he has ear plugs in one of his pockets.

Wears them JUST IN CASE.

FU ♥

Oh man, if there is one guy you have no problem hanging out with, it’s this guy. You weren’t with the other kids when they were ordered out to go to Canvas and Hole Town for some reason—you remained at the HQ, allowing yourself to sink into the comfort of your own bed for the whole day. So, when later that evening when you finally decided to get up, the mess hall was a little crowded than usual and a bleary confusion watched over you.

The main table filled up with most of your teammates, and you were walking towards them when at the corner of your eyes—you caught the sight of white and dark red at the edge of the room. You stilled, turning your attention to the unfamiliar boy in the room. Who is that?

Fu was chilling comfortably at his corner, thinking to himself when a figure strolled up to him, startling him. “Hey, who’re you?” You asked, right hand cupped over your nape. The stammer and nervous noises that came from his throat made you grin a little as the stranger struggled for a second. “Oh—Fu! My name’s Fu O-Orostor. Orostor, yes.”

“So, Fu. You a new Cleaner? I haven’t seen you before now.”

“Uh, not… quite? I’m—”

Someone hollered for your name, tearing your attention from Fu. He sank down in relief as you apologised and turned to leave, smiling sweetly as you went.

If that wasn’t kind of nerve wrecking, talking to a girl, he doesn’t know what is.

Saw you once in your transformed form, a bomb-human hybrid and Hii almost came out

Was pretty freaked out seeing razor sharp teeth at the bomb-shaped head of yours, but you acted like yourself with your teasing self

“My bad Fu!”

My bad my ass, Hii hummed in his mind.

TAMSY ♥

Fascinated by what your vital instrument is. It’s amazing what different kinds of vital instrument becomes, and how surprising each one become.

It was during the pursuit for the Lady of Penta as Tamsy stood beside Delmon, watching the Akuta members take down the scorpion-like Trash Beasts. 

You, for instance, were handling yourself fine with kicking and piercing your elongated knives at them, tearing them apart with your blade. It was pretty risky in his opinion, because why weren’t you using your vital instrument?

But then—perhaps his ears heard wrong—but the unmistakable sound of a grenade pin being snatched made his head turn from the source—you, clutching your head as one of the Trash Beasts lunged.

A piercing scream came from you:

“COVER YOUR EARS!” You barked, and your neck ignited sparks. Time slowed down as Tamsy’s pale golden eyes widened and his hands covered his ears, watching the scene before him unfold. The area lit up in bright bursts of heat and your arm blew off—drowning in the grind-up sand waste below.

You emerged from the smoke with your full face and gas mask hanging off from your neck as you tossed your—your body! Headless body?— at the Trash Beasts. Swerving around and landing into a heap of sand, you rubbed your hands together as sweat slicked between, sparks igniting once again.

Flicking your fingers, a long-ranged projectile pierced and cut through the Trash Beasts, aiming head on between their eyes upon contact. Everyone’s fighting their own bunch of Trash Beasts, and you clean up the last one after you as Rudo takes one out as a test.

At one of the attacks Rudo unleashes, it kicks up a lot of sand—distracting you all. You feel a presence behind you and look back, seeing the Eagers stand by. “That’s an impressive vital instrument you’ve got.”

“Yeah,” your voice distorted. “It’s pretty neat, thank you.” You lean on your left leg, holding your hands behind your back. The apron of dynamites line down your front and back—like a sick sense of a fashion statement. Beside them, Rudo emerges and Delmon talks (screams) at him.

Found your vital instrument and the ability to be an actual bomb fascinating

Just warn him in advance when you’re going to use them

Doesn’t want to become deaf, that’s all.

.⋅ ۵ b♡♡m b♡♡m expl♡si♡ns! ۵ ⋅.

characters; enjin, zanka, jabber, riyo

a/n; hope this is good! I haven’t seen nor read csm so my impression of her is taken from anime wiki

please enjoy!

ENJIN ↺ Much like the other members in his team; Enjin picked you up at your lowest and saw something within you, promptly inviting you to join the Cleaner organisation. Something inside him convinced him you were something else, and that gut feeling never let him down, ever. So! To accurately test you and see if you’re actually a Giver, given that the heap of Trash Beasts behind you crumpled like nothing with not a speck of your own blood in their rusted nails for teeth, Enjin dragged you out and wanted to see it for himself.

Though, when another herd of Trash Beasts reacted to his hurl, catching you off guard as he sprints away (he felt so evil for doing this, but rest assured, he would swoop in if you couldn’t finish the job) – you tug at the grenade pin connected to your choker and pull.

It couldn’t had been the communication collar every Groundling have; Enjin would know because they don’t burst into an explosion. It’s not every day the Cleaner experiences a bomb go off before him, especially so close. The blast hurls him backwards and he snaps Umbreaker open to protect himself from the hit, grunting. Once the first round of heavy smoke passes, he’s reminded of you and looks up, wide-eyed.

You, and your transformed self—your head looked like a literal bomb, angular at the front, with rows of sharp teeth at your mouth. An apron of lined up dynamites flows down your figure, and he just freezes as you work on the Trash Beasts. 

Unbelievable.

Unbelievably confused and can’t wrap his head around it, but he simply tones out your declines and persuades you into joining. He CANNOT let you join the Raiders. No, WAY.

Takes you under his wing and you’re quickly friends with the other strays in his team

Okay, not strays to be exact – but he supposes the majority of his team are.

Winces every time you use your vital instrument – the fashion choker around your neck with a visible grenade pin attached to it. 

Makes sure you’re excellent in every other field before allowing you on missions

Until then, you are unfortunately forced to do every other duty – be bored and listen to Semiu’s orders!

Boo hoo!

ZANKA ↺

When the others got a hold on the news that another Giver were joining their team, Zanka was starting to wonder why the Akuta team were being the most popular team so far? Well, new Givers are always appreciated – especially if it comes from hard work and patience! – but there are four other teams where a single soul haven’t joined in a year max, and Rudo and you have joined theirs in the span of two weeks. Where Enjin are finding people, he doesn’t know.

He has thought about to be more unapproachable but easy enough to talk to ever since Rudo’s first meeting, which was… the worst he has experienced so far this year. No like, it was bad. Seriously. Rudo’s poor attempts at ‘smiling’ genuinely haunts him and he wishes to enlist the kid to smiling therapies because who doesn’t know how to smile?? 

Saw how kind and gentle you were and sighed in relief. Dropped his nonchalance and greeted you normally, nodding his head in respect. You smiled and introduced yourself, which Zanka did right after as well. 

You’re pretty chill and bring out your own vibe – one out of friendliness and tranquil. It was during one particular mission where you had bothered Enjin to go to, after being holed up in the HQ doing what Zanka likes to describe: absolutely nothing. The leader eventually agreed seeing you wouldn’t budge your begging but only allowed it on one condition; Zanka has to watch over you. He didn’t really see a problem with it, you beamed, and Enjin was glad to get out of your hair—so off you two and two supporters head to a spot to do some cleaning. One the way to the area in the jeep, with the supporters named Gris driving and Tomme sitting in the passenger seat, Zanka sat in between you and Follo – you admitted something about your vital instrument that puzzled them.

“Whenever I use it, it hurts. I feel it,” which confused Zanka. Because how can using your vital instrument be painful? All you’re doing is placing your anima in it and surging the energy to the object you care for, then allow it to transform. How can that hurt?

Imagine his surprise when you yank at your neck and a loud, orange explosion erupts from your spot. The mere sound hisses in his ears and he falls back several meters behind, shouting at nothing. His ears are ringing, and by the time he can finally hear again – clashes and animalistic noises stem from where the Trash Beasts are. His eyes are wide and he stares in absolute shock at your transformed appearance. You pull a dyna—dynamight?!—from your apron and chuck it into a Trash Beasts’ mouth. Zanka barely registers his own mouth swearing as his fingers cover his ears and—BAM! Another falls down and collapses at your feet.

Understands what you mean about your vital instrument “hurting”

Asks of you to warn him whenever you plan to use it, because then he can put on construction headphones and hope for the best

Lowkenuinely has ass hearing because of that mission

Alice had to fix him up and you were sentenced to no guaranteed missions for two weeks

Pointed to his ears and complained, “can’t hear ya”, to your cries of despair when you learned about your sentencing. 

RIYO ↺

You’re her friend you’re her BADDIE

Jokes aside, but she’s your first close friend in the organisation

Considering the close age gap between you and similar interests, Riyo became your day 1

Riyo’s the one who sways Enjin’s opinions and influences him into believing you’re good now to go to missions and as long as everyone has noise cancelling headphones with them—or construction headphones (like a certain somebody)—and you warn everyone in advance, you’re good to go! Sadly, Enjin’s pretty firm on his decision and sticks to the two weeks punishment, abusing his excuse “you made Zanka deaf”.

So, to try and convince Enjin; Riyo has asked to become your sparring parter! You learn the basics and adapt to her footwork as she kicks and strikes at your torso and open shots often, blooming soreness and bruises right there—but you familiarise to her movements and make sure you don’t fall for her false moves. 

Quickly, you become efficient in close combat and due to your already enhanced strength and speed—you learn the most from Riyo in couple of weeks only than the usual assumed time at several months, if not a year. 

Loves sharing desserts with you. Likes doing a lot with you more than the other fellas because—excuse her blatant wording—but none of them are girls! They don’t… get it? Most of the time they do (mostly Zanka) but you get it 10/10 times. But be careful though and make sure Rudo can’t whiff out the evidence of sugar lingering to your fingers – or else he’ll go berserk and (politely) as if you have more. 

You always have more and give him some

Then you experience a wild Rudo on a sugar rush for the first time

“Cut me some slack! I didn’t know!” you defended yourself in the court the others had made after Rudo experienced a stomach ache, the judge being Enjin and the prosecutor being Zanka. Riyo was 100% on your side and the verdict was not guilty, which made you go “hurray!”

JABBER ↺

You weren’t apart of the Raiders the first time he met you. He was returning back to a particularly bloody mission that had him giddy but not quite satisfied, tucked away in an alleyway to clean up hastily. You have no idea how you ended up in that exact alleyway, but you seemed to know where you were going and came from the opposite end where Jabber stood. 

He wasn’t looking to fight with a weak looking civilian, he judged and decided to spare you even if you wanted to fight or nah. But then some random guy—armed with dual pistols—jumped down from the rooftops and demanded your surrender. 

The assassin mistook Jabber as your partner and ordered him to do as well, which earned a loud cackle out of him. The dude didn’t look like a Giver, but if you were asking Jabber now that he had been threatened, he gave up on his rare kindness and charged at the man with Mankira out. 

That was the plan, before a loud outburst rocked behind him, making him stumble in his steps. His ears picked up also the sound of blood splatter? —but mostly the lurid boom. The assassin didn’t react fast enough as you leapt and kicked hard into his stomach—air along with saliva knocked clean out of him as your hands gripped hard at his nape, kneeing into his front.

Jabber didn’t even have to fight the man off as you viciously attacked the man, now a bomb-human fusion of some kind with rows of dyna—dynamites? —strapped to you. Holy—he has not seen dynamites this close before, and why the fuck do you casually have like, a hundred on you??

The moment your hand gripped the tip of one bomb, Jabber’s eyes widened and he jumped back, hopping backwards to a safe distance. Pressing his fingers into his eardrums, his magenta irises focus on you as you forced TWO into the man’s mouth, detonating them and jumping back in impressive speed till your back met the wall he was leaning against. 

“Yo,” he whistled before a flashy light exploded and hot air met your faces, making the two of you squint and shut your eyes. 

Later after the smoke cleared, he snuck his arm around you and hoisted you over his shoulder, climbing up the wall onto the nearest rooftop. 

Knowing you could easily slip a dynamite on him as well, you let yourself be carried up

The moment his feet met solid flooring—you hopped off his shoulder and stood at a distance

Safe to say you have him hooked on you

Seriously wants to fight you, foaming and drooling at the thought of battling you

“Ouuuuuhhhhh you’re insanely strong, ain’t ya? Name’s Jabber—and I won’t let you get away till you give me a fair fight, girl.”

“Fine by me,” your voice said, distorted by the hybrid form of yours, and a grin widened at each corner of his mouth.

Won’t let you get away ever actually!

Managed to nick your shin and carried you over to the Raider’s HQ to make you join

You eventually do, because 1) you have nothing else to do with your life and 2) Jabber intrigues you

Unhinged fighting partners

⤷ ゛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.

≡- ꒰ °locked in your eyes, don’t set me free ꒱

rudo surebrec x cleaner!reader with a possession jinki

a/n; I’ve personally never seen dandadan mainly because of the first episode (yuck)! I’ve tried but it was just super weird + my brother felt the same when we reacted to it tg. such a shame bc the animation quality is good plus jiji with evil eye looks so awesome! lowkey fine too.. i tweaked reader’s ability a little so it would make sense here!

tags; fluff, teenager!reader, fighting, fluff, calm rudo, etc

wc; 1714

first meeting

From the first day after having fallen into a No-Man’s island from the Sphere, you and the others had been there 

He first noticed you seated in the passenger seat beside Enjin when he and Zanka had ‘formally’ met, Riyo far in the back row snoozing off. 

Along with the time flying by with him as the newest recruit of the Cleaner organisation, he turned to those near his age for guidance. He had just fallen and experience grief in such a way no one ever should experience it

He was lucky to have you to help ground him.

Not just that, but you also supplied him with tips and advice how to navigate through the new world, what places to go and where it was considered safe. Of course, Rudo had to be supervised in case anything would go wrong — since the news of an alive Sphereite just hit the shelves amongst the Givers.

after a while

Found it easy to communicate with others. From morning to evening, he would go and try find the other Cleaners but perk up at the sight of you.

He’s louder then and doesn’t even realise it.

Attached at your hip when the two of you are hanging out together, free from any missions but respects your space, so he keeps a few inches away from you.

Strangely enough, he hasn’t seen you fight.

Not one time.

You’re one of the last people he hasn’t seen with their vital instrument, mainly cause of the fact the opportunity and the reason for it haven’t come.

You are an Akuta member, yes, and you’ve been alongside the whole crew most of the time, but he hasn’t seen you take out your vital instrument 

Though Rudo hasn’t really been met with the chance to witness your vital instrument firsthand.

Once he finally asked, you smiled before turning your head away from him, your shoulder stiffening. 

“It’s because I can’t control it,” Rudo remembers you saying. The spoon you used to feed yourself more cake clinked slightly as you placed it on the plate, sighing softly. He slowed his eating pace and looked at you curiously, wide red eyes focused on you wholly. “My vital instrument… is my last resort.” You finalised, moving to continue eating. 

Rudo didn’t press much after that. 

But when a Raider had ambushed and threatened their lives right after they had finished a gruelling mission you and Rudo (+ three other supporters) has slaved against 12-meter-high Trash Beasts, he caught the glimpse of your hand going under your collar, revealing a silver necklace locket. You had your eyebrows furrowed, eyes sharpened with uncertainty as your oval shaped locket broke open with light purple glint. 

The essence of the object washed over him, his gut instantly twisting. 

You let out a shaky sigh. Rudo stared at you, worn out and tired, but concerned too. “[Name]?” He merely asked, noticing that your whole body had brightened up in that glow. His eyes softened in realisation, and his head whipped towards the Raider with his vital instrument out. “Oh-ohhh! This is going to be crazy, I know it!” Jabber‘s legs skipped and he rushed forward with Mankira unleashed. Rudo snapped back towards you and leapt to you, but his legs gave out and he fell down with a dull thud, face caked in dust and dried up mud. His crimson eyes widened at your figure, adrenaline pumping throughout him. “[NAME]!!” A scream tore its way out his throat.

The same sensation as before phased through him, and his head tilted towards you.

“That …ain’t my name,” a gruff voice called out, and a loud clank echoed throughout the arena. Wild gushes of wind swirled around the area with thick smoke, and the Sphereite had to shield his vision to protect himself, grunting. When the smokes died down, he could only watch as you fought against Jabber, blocking and giving bone-crushing barrages.

“Fuck— you got downright cruel fists! Oh-hah, you tryna kill me here,” the dreadhead heaved but a wild grin tugged at his lips, equally big eyes analysing your movements. How was there anything to analyse? The two of you fought at such a high speed; it was all a blur to the spectators. Obviously, something had changed about you. So, when Jabber delivered a kick to your solar plexus, flinging you to the opposite wall with a loud crash, Rudo could properly see what had happened to you.

Your silver necklace locket had evolved into a bigger piece of itself: the oval part shaped into the curve of your forehead with the rest of the chain hanging from the sides. From where he was lying, an enormous deep purple gem-like eye pressed up at your hairline. Your face—no, your skin was a paler shade of itself, and your bare neck (except for the communication choker) was painted ink black. Similar to Enjin’s tattoos. 

The first letter of your name rested on Rudo’s tongue. He couldn’t say your name, not when you weren’t there. 

Whatever was in your body dug themselves out of the hole in the wall and zeroed in on Jabber, who let out a loud cackle. You weren’t even sparing Rudo a single glance and he still felt goosebumps on him. 

“I am trying to kill you,” ‘you’ simply replied (it didn't sound like you at all) and held out your head simultaneously as you kicked into Jabber’s abdomen before he could dodge, tilting your ankle further to launch the Raider into the air, breath knocked out of his lungs. With a fierce glare, your hand snuck itself into your bag and took out your safety rope. Making sure you have a good grip, you form a loop before Jabber had started to descend from the air. Though he recovered quickly and had his claws out, pure manic energy rushing through him. 

At the exact spot he would have to land his feet to slash at you, you threw your loop before he touched the ground. His eyes widened and you merely watched him step into the circle. With a grunt, Jabber jumped up instantaneously after landing, but the rope still managed to tie around his ankles as you tugged hard, resulting in him crashing down on the ground. 

By then, Rudo had stood up and wiped off excess dirt off of him, and his face were tight with, conflicted. Eventually backup arrived (Gris, Follo, and Tomme left to call for reinforcements) and Jabber fled away with the momentary distraction that tore your attention away, making you irritated. A hand snaked around Rudo’s shoulders, and he flinched but eased when it was Riyo. “Cool, huh.”

“Hu—what?” He asked.

“[Name]’s vital instrument. It’s super cool right?” Riyo repeated, her green irises watching his red ones. Rudo glanced down at his hands, conflicted still, and let out an uncertain sigh. “What even is it? Whatever it does, it shouldn’t make you turn into—“

“A vessel, right?” She interrupted. 

Rudo stared at her in silence. Riyo took it as to explain as she faced Enjin and the others trying to restrain you. “So, [Name]’s vital instrument is unlike from the rest of ours. We all have objects we like and care for, yes? Nothing would harm us as long as we had our beloved stuff. Well, it’s diffe—“

Rudo held up a hand, “no, stop. I want to talk to [Name] about it.” He spoke. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

Riyo looked at her younger Cleaner before a smile rested on her lips, pulling him closer before letting go, placing her hands on her hips. “Gotcha.”

୨୧

You told him eight hours later. It was nearing midnight but neither of you could sleep. Coincidentally, the both of you also walked into the mess hall around the same time to drink a glass of water. Once awkward greetings were given, you two sat on the couch in surprisingly comfortable silence. 

You broke it with you turning your body facing him, fingers fidgeting horribly. “Rudo. I didn’t, no—whatever happened in the mission must’ve been confusing.” You stuttered but saved it with your smooth tone. “I... I wanna explain it to you so you don’t get confused later on, ‘kay?”

Setting his own cup on the table, Rudo looked right at you with a calm expression. “Alright.” 

For the rest of the night: you told him everything about your vital instrument. What it was, what was it that possessed you during the fight, why you looked different, your necklace in general, spared some details about what you could do et cetera. You felt guilty for being secretive about it and admitted that you didn’t want him to perceive you differently. 

“Givers are already seen as weird, hoarding people, but I didn’t want you to think I was crazy for being… y’know... a vessel for an evil spirit?” your eyes averted away from his, feeling a tad bit embarrassed. “Oh, her name’s Jiwa by the way,” you added, scratching the back of your head. “I don’t want to keep anything from you, Rudo.”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly but shook his head. “No, no it’s alright. I get it why you did that. You were just trying to protect yourself and I respect it,” he reassured before cupping his big gloves over your hands, taking you by surprise. 

“I don’t care if your vital instrument is a cursed necklace, so what? It could be whatever, and I still couldn’t care. Your vital instrument is what you care about, so you care for your necklace. I care for my gloves. Who am I to judge you?”

Before you could try to respond, too awed to actually form a sentence, the cozy weight of his gloves left your hands and he stood up, heading for the door. “It’s late, ‘m heading for bed.” He turned to face you and waved his head. “Night, [Name].”

You raised your hand to wave as well, smiling with half lidded eyes. “Goodnight, Rudo.”

Behind the door, Rudo could barely contain his smile as it stretched wide to both side of his face

It was a grotesque sight

Walked to his room with red cheeks

➸ 29 pearls + camellia and marula ✼◦•≫

boyfriend zanka nijiku x cleaner!gn!reader taking care of his overworked self

synopsis; seeing that zanka is using all of his day offs to train, you drag him into your room to relax

tags; fluff, kissing etc.

Lately, you’ve noticed a dramatic increase in Zanka’s personal training. At first, it wasn’t all that bad. He would be in the mess hall or the common room talking to the others, or on his way back to his room. But then, gradually, he started going out more into the courtyard. And now, you haven’t even seen the guy in the afternoons nor nights where he isn’t out on missions, which is quite worrying. You knew that that your boyfriend liked to train with Lovely Assistaff as much as he could to improve himself: but he had been doing this way too much. Too much. Way too much.

Walking in the hallways and passing by the windows showing out to the courtyard, you wandered close and looked out: your resting expression frowned slightly. Outside, you saw Zanka working himself down to the bone. Watching him hurl and fling himself around with his vital instrument, piercing the air with thrusting motions, sweat drops falling from his forehead. A sensation twisted in your gut.

You had to force him to take a break.

So! Doing what you are best at, you took Zanka and headed to your room. Though, somebody would argue you didn’t really… do that?

You hurried down the hallway. “[Name]! [NAME]! Put—me down!” Zanka shrieked disgruntled, trying to throw himself off from your hold. You had truly run up towards him mid-jump and caught Lovely Assistaff, hoisted him up and dashed indoors. Both of his legs were over your left arm, tangled up by your side, knees pressing against you as you supported his back. His stomach pressed against yours as his arms came around your shoulders, head hanging low due to the small height difference. With your hasty pace, you strolled down the corridor with an irritated Zanka in your arms, bouncing slightly because of your roughness. 

In short, you kidnapped him.

Not really—okay, you did. 

“Zanka, it’s for your own good! You’re wearing clothes from the day before!” you nagged, carrying him down the hall. Luckily your bedroom was on the second floor, so it didn’t take much time nor energy to abduct your stressed boyfriend from one of his sacred day offs. “Please, [Name]—put me down, I still have to finish my session!”

“You have the whole week off and you spend it all training? Zanka, every other Cleaner would actually kill to have this much free time. You should spend it relaxing.” Your voice eased to a gentle tone, and Zanka didn’t say much for the rest of the time. Thankfully no one was present to witness this scene as you unlocked your dorm room and entered inside, finally putting him down. 

Zanka blinked at the sight of your room. “Did you...” his voice trailed, eyes wide.

“Yes,” you smiled, tilting your head sheepishly. “I kinda did.”

You had completely tidied your whole room; changed your bedsheets, replaced the previous sad rug you owned with one you liked better, organized everything and set up your radio, currently playing in the atmospheric vibe in your room. The main light was off, but your small lamps were illuminating soft orange embers and casting the illusion of sunset in your space. Zanka met your kind eyes and felt his face redden.

“[Name]… you really did not have to.” “But I wanted to,” you held his hands, pulling him close to wrap your arms around his middle. He sighed by your head and felt him go limp in your grasp, leaning into you. ”[Name],”he exhaled.

“This is what we’re going to do: I’m going to draw you a bath and we’re going to dance to Jeff Buckley or chill in my bed. Hmm, sounds good?”

He nuzzled into the base of your neck. “Sounds… pretty good.”

*•*•*

Resting his head against the edge of the tub, the warmth of the bathwater covering him wholly; Zanka let his aching muscles ease for the first time in days. The one of his favourite incenses burned beautifully by the sink, and the room was lit in orange mixed with yellows. The current conditioner in his hair smelled like camellia and marula oils, which was amazing.

You really planned everything from start to finish, huh? Pulled him when he didn’t realise, tugged him when he was prioritizing training over everything else. You even picked his favourite incense for him!

How he managed to pull you is still a mystery to him. Sinking till his nose barely hovered above the water, Zanka let his eyelids close and succumb to the heat. His head was in a daze, like cotton had been stuffed inside. 

Soft knocks on the bathroom door made him blink and sit upright, remembering his whereabouts.

“Zanka? Don’t go sleeping in there,” he heard your laughter and the muffled vocals of the singer you currently had playing. Taking the shower head, he rinsed off the conditioner you lent him and dried himself, dressing himself in the causal wear you had lent him. A big shirt and loose pants, just what he needed in the moment. After almost snoozing off in your bathtub and using 20 minutes, Zanka opened the door. 

He was met with the sight of you moving along to the slow, intimate music that played, and his eyes couldn’t peel themselves off from the way you worked the rhythm, timing yourself perfectly with your twirls. Eventually you spotted him and gestured him to get close, making him crack a smile before his nonchalance returned. You held his hand and inched him closer by his waist, lying your head on his shoulder. 

“—and our eyes locked in downcast love, I sit here proud, even now you’re undressed in your dreams with me.”His hand snaked up your spine to hold you, closing his eyes to the music. His blue tassel earrings faintly touching the side of your head.

“Oh, I’m only here for this moment. I know everybody here wants you,” you mouthed inaudibly, letting out breath and soft exhales against his neck, embracing him fully.

“[Name],” your boyfriend whispered, lips centimetres away from the shell of your ear. “Thank you… for this. I ‘preciate it,” “you want to do this more often?”

He muttered affirmatively, smiling against your jaw as he kissed you, making you slightly crane your neck as his lips met yours. You smiled, half-lidded, as Jeff Buckley continued on in the background as the two of you lost yourselves in the sensual lyrics.

“The sea of fools has parted us, there’s nothing in our way,

My love,”

You leaned away to allow a moment to suspire and laughed breathlessly. 

“Don’t you see, don’t you see?”

“I, really like this song,” you said, gazing into Zanka’s dark irises. Light barely reflected off of them, but they seemed to be full of them in the moment. “You do?” His voice came out low. “Mm, one of my favourites…” you trailed, and pressed your lips once more against his, curling your arms finally around his shoulders as Zanka completely eased into you.

The scent of your expensive hair and body products along with the incense you burned swirled in your head, making your eyelashes flutter. 

“I know, I know.”

Your hearts hummed against each other.

“I, I know everybody here wants you~”

: ̗̀➛ wash it all away + cocoa vanilla haze .ೃ࿐

boyfriend jabber wonger x raider gn!reader inviting kindly to wash him

synopsis; apparently jabber stinks (lmao) so this is to like, uh, make a drabble of reader washing him

tags; kinda suggestive at the end but it’s not much 👀 + scent smth…

Sneaking up behind him and hugging around him with your head stuffed into his nape, inhaling the absolute foul smell of buildup stank, toxic fumes and the general scent of Jabber Funk: your grip instinctively tightened before it loosened completely. So this is what you get for trying to be affectionate.

“Uwah—yo, [Name]!” Jabber laughed, watching you struggle behind him. Your partner laughed at the visceral reaction you made: instantly releasing him and covering your nose with the collar of your sweater as you coughed violently, squeezing your eyes shut. You only said one thing:

“FUCK—it burns! You STINK!”

A loud cackle erupted from him. “[Name], it’s not that bad!”

“You’re taking a bath RIGHT NOW!”

That made his cheeky grin shrink. “Wait, what.”

“Right now,” you repeated.

He looked at you, then behind him in case anybody else stood behind him. “Huh, you talking to me?—“

“Oh, of course not. The wall behind you.” You gestured wildly teary-eyed, a deadpan expression on your face.

He didn’t respond to your sarcasm but he did bolt for the door — only for you to catch up and yank him down to the ground. Someone had once commented Jabber was like a cat, or at least acted like one. You sure was seeing it the way Jabber recoiled and jerked in your grip as you hoisted and threw him over your shoulder, heading for your bedroom.

“[Name]! I just worked on a toxin, I can’t get wet!” He kicked his legs but made no real effort to free himself. “I don’t care! I can’t have you burning off other people’s noses with your stench! Nobody would want to fight you then!”

“Hah?? Oh, I would force them, duh—“ “I know that one Cleaner wouldn’t.”

He gasped. “Mr. Bad Attitude? Oh hell no—he’d fight me whether or not if I stank! I’m still pissed that he’s holding out on me.”

“Jab, by what you’ve described to me about this guy; he sounds like he embodies the word ‘hygiene’. C’mon, doesn’t it sound like a good offer? Washing you?”

His legs ceased kicking and you felt an elbow dig into your back. He definitely had his palm cupping his cheek in order to think about it.

The pressure left your shoulder blade. “If only you joi—“

You slammed your bedroom door wide open — sending the door hitting the wall with a smack! — strolled inside into your bathroom and turned on the lights, brightening your small tidy bathroom. Setting Jabber down by hauling him down your shoulder with your arm, you tugged lightly on his dirty clothes.

“Take it all off.”

“Oh,” he said. A wild grin broke out instantly, “hey-yah! You’re bold as fuck!”

A vein popped at your temple. Your voice raised high as you yelled in a volume anyone in a 15 meter radius could hear: “Just take your shit off!”

That was where you were currently at, hunched over the bathtub with a wash cloth in your hand, rubbing as firmly against Jabber’s bare skin as you could. You were cautious to not rub his skin raw (as much he would’ve liked that). Luckily the water didn’t turn far off from the foamy white like you had expected, but there was some dirt on him. Dried up blood and sweat you deduced. Has this guy never taken a shower after fighting? A mission!? Oh, a world he’s missing out on.

Jabber purred as you worked, the shorter dreadlock tickling his face as the rest bundled up in a bun on the top of his head. “When are you gonna hop in.. would be easier on your back,” he smiled weary. Coincidentally, you adjusted in your seat, finding a comfortable position to ease your sore arch. “No need, I’m good.”

“Cmonnn….” He drawled, snapping his fingers.

“I showered this morning. I’m not joining you—nor falling for your tricks.” You cooed, letting out a momentary sneeze before taking the shower head and washing off the gunk. His skin glistened fhe way the bathroom lights reflected off his back, sending a sense of satisfaction through you.

Since you two didn’t say anything more, you focused more at the hum of the washing machine tucked away at the corner; tumbling and rinsing Jabber’s Raider outfit. No way was he going back into that uniform that probably hasn’t been washed since he met you.

A snigger slipped past your lips, making Jabber set his focus at you, his big magenta eyes frog-blinked. “What’cha laughing at?…” he asked sleepily, half-lidded.

You bit your smirk, coughing it off. “Nothing, but you were talking about your latest poisons earlier, hmm?”

Your voice entered his ears, the words making sense to him seconds later. He perked up energetically, splashing some water at you and the wall.

“Gah—hey!”

But you didn’t really mind it. Hearing Jabber going on a tangent about his newest toxin and his latest experiments about them, testing the immediate and lasting effects of the strong poisons and how it felt being under them made you just smile and look at his gestures. One thing about Jabber — outside his violence and sass — was his way of retelling something. He’s such an animated person, always using his hands to talk.

You nodded along, getting somewhat weary as your hands worked down his legs, rubbing the soapy washcloth against the muscles. “—it didn’t have much symptoms as the previous one, which is a bonus! You don’t want to go through that. I still can’t tell how long I was on the toilet, sweating because of it. It was bad, [Name]. Use it on somebody you hate cuz’ it was baaaad.” He cackled and threw his head back, leaning against rims of the bathtub. The off-milky white bath water moved around him as he brought his right leg into the air, relaxing lavishly.

“Yeahhhhhh, that’s it, rub my leg clean!”

You sank your dull nails into his skin and scratched, eliciting a soft exhale out of him. “Shuddup.” You groan. Why did you sign up for this again? Oh right, because he smelt absolutely horrid.

“Yknow, this is so niceeee~ you should do this ofteeeeen~,” the dread head moaned, his pupils blown. The stool creaked beneath you, catching the calm, almost euphoric expression on his face. He’s sure liking this, you wondered. Along with your position, your face shifted into what was reminiscent of a soft smile.

You leaned in, still holding Jabber’s leg up but letting your hand curl around thick limb, nuzzling your face close to his collarbone and under his jaw, taking in the smell. Your smile instantly grew with a satisfied hum.

The faint scent of deep cocoa swirled with a rich vanilla was present on his neck—no, his whole body. Your nose inhaled greedily a second time — feeling your partner’s Adam’s apple raise and descend against your cheek — before sitting back into your stool, resuming back to his leg.

Jabber stared at you with wild eyes, similar to a cat. Then, slowly but surely, his inner brows raised as his eyes narrowed, teeth sinking into his bottom lip with a visible smirk. “Wo~ah,” he chuckled. “Didn’t take ya as a sniffer, [Name].”

You shamelessly poured more of your favourite body wash into your palm, watching the stream of the product pool in your palm as you closed the top with a snap, rubbing your hands together until the body wash frothed up. Smearing it all against Jabber’s skin, everything’s squeaky clean due to your effort, you angled closer with your eyes set into his.

“If you didn’t smell so bad all the time, you would have found out sooner,” you held his chin and turned it away, lathering his skin away. Jabber looked at your expression and looked up at the ceiling with his tongue running over his top lip with a smirk.

Guess he has to shower more often.

I just want to read some gachiakuta x kny but there isn't much

If you Don't wanna then, ok you can ignore this reguest

( my English isn't good, i'm still learning. IM so nervous writing, IM so sorry i don't wanna bother you🥲)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚sweetheart ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

synopsis; despite all the criticism and the heavy expectations zanka has upon himself, you manage to ease them all —unraveling his neutral, fixed stance

a/n; ofc!! this was a good idea and an interesting pairing + I’ll try my best !! your English is good dw dw!! I’m just so sorry this is tiny.

zanka nijiku x tanjiro!reader

rushed + short drabble •*•*•

don’t write when you’re cramming for final tests guys, I think I will rewrite this when I’m not stressed for school because this wasn’t the best fics I’ve written

With a soft smile resting on your face, you walked across the hallway alongside him.

Ever since you stepped foot into the organisation as the newest recruit and joined the Akuta Team under Enjin’s wing after he had decided that you would join then, Zanka had been observing you.

And by each observation, his neutrality and objective behaviour started to shift. Despite there being the obvious risk of becoming a Giver, nonetheless a Cleaner, the way you extend a part of your own soul into the object you care for the most, you lose some of your own. Get some lose some. Fighting and risking your own life taking down Trash Beasts. Most people would struggle being emotionally stable.

Somehow, you haven’t let that be the cost of your consideration and respect. Zanka relies on his ability to judge when someone is being a dickhead, pretentious, sarcastic or just a total airhead. He also relies on being able to sense when someone is dangerous and a threat to him.

And you; you are just that.

You carry yourself with your head high and never undermine anyone’s feelings. There is no doubt in his mind you’ve worked incredibly hard to get where you are, and he’s respecting that. The dangerous part of you isn’t your strength, it isn’t that you’re secretly a Raider, no. You’re not careless in battle, you’re quite fluid and quick on your feet. No, it’s the fact that you’re so nice to him.

“Zanka,” you say, standing upright as you angled your vital instrument towards him. “You were really quick this time! Let’s go another round.”

“It wasn’t that—“

“Don’t discredit yourself, Zanka you beat me within minutes! So please, let’s go another round.”

And it’s taking a toll on him. A toll on his heart.

Your warm-heartedness affects him greatly, to the point his face becomes flustered around you. How could he not? Your compliments—honest, sincere compliments drapes over him like a good, big blanket, rendering him useless. Your tenderness continues far for everyone, especially for him.

He would try to endure it and put it off as much as he could until he could reside in privacy of his own room to let his face burn up freely, his nonchalance breaking. That’s what your kindness does to him, your strong affection for him. The simplest forms of mere words has him in shambles and struggling to be stable in your presence.

It was just one of those missions. The kind that made you believe that everything would go well but didn’t. The assignment at hand described taking care of the usual bunch of Trash Beasts that was a risk to the public, ya-da ya-da.

But then Zanka’s head hit the ground and blood streamed down his cut forehead. He picked up Lovely Assistaff with a comfortable grip as he wobbly got up on his feet. He couldn’t see out of his left eye—crimson covered his sight—and his brain couldn’t properly pick up what was going on. A muffled scream shrieked on his right, and Zanka turned around to make sense of it when he was hoisted up in the air, arms curling around him.

A startled noise slipped past his lips as his brain kickstarted, adrenaline pumping throughout him. Now, he could see you clear as day carrying him in your arms as the giant Trash Beast lay crumpled down in pieces—where he thinks was just where he was standing moments ago. His arm coiled around your neck as a reflex and your face turned close to his.

He knew what his heart meant when it called out to you, longing for mutual recognition, want, and love.

His eyes shut close, his world darkening around him. He couldn’t hear your voice, nor did he wake at the sounds of your begs. Only did he wake nine hours later on one of the hospital beds in the infirmary room. On his right was you, holding his hand with your head leaning against the bedsheets, sleeping.

Oh, how much he loves you. His heart was too big for his small body, he wanted to pour all his warmth, endearment and his soul into you.

So when the two of you eighteen days later sat on the bench in the court late one night, holding each other close as he confessed, he got to share his devotion to you. Your warm, gentle eyes gazed into his and watched as his pupils grew in size. A childish smile on his face as you wrapped your arms tight around him, bringing your head comfortably close to his shoulder.

“Zanka, I’m glad for this… you’re truly the most amazing person I’ve gotten the chance to properly meet. ‘M glad..” and the rest of your sentence bounced off of his neck with the way your lips pecked the skin there, turning him red. “[Name], [Name],” he mumbled, holding your shirt.

Your benignity knew no bounds.

He was truly blessed to have a partner as yourself, even though your words alone turn him putty and soft in your hands. It’s just that he has never loved someone as much as he loves you.

And he’s grateful for that.

✽✦✽ <— “you’re the bane of my existence” —> ✽✦✽

zanka nijiku x rival!reader who dislikes each other (unknowingly yearning for one another)

synopsis; you two have struggled to see eye to eye and this has continued throughout the whole year. When word gets out you are to be transferred to the north branch of the Cleaner’s headquarters and your latest performance in today's mission, Zanka pulls you to a deserted room to talk.

bro YOU KNOW it’s inspired by KANTHONY! (kate sharma x anthony bridgerton from bridgerton s2)

tags; tension.

Feeling his hand grip around your arm as he dragged you away from the others, preoccupied and distracted as your resistance grew weaker — his pace only increasing. Into another small space, he closed the door shut behind him and walked up to you, a hard glare evident on his face.

“The hell was that.”

Your eyes snap to his, confused. “What was what?”

“The mission. The hell were you doing.” He repeats, stepping into your space. In the room Zanka had dragged you off to was a small library room with shelves and hundreds of books. There was plenty of space he could stand in, yet he chose yours. You stepped slightly behind and sideways, and he followed, eyes fixated at you.

“I was doing what I normally do,” you argue, feeling a headache already arriving. He does not seem convinced by your words, and a loud sigh escapes his nose. “The hell do you want me to say!”

“I want you to say that you’ve been nothing but a risk to every other person today on the battlefield. [Name] what were you thinking.”

Earlier that day, the team had been ordered on defeating large groups of Trash Beasts that were close to breaking into a nearby city. By procedure, everyone was required to gather information from the folk and assess the situation before going into action. But you’ve had rushed in and taken care of a lingering Trash Beast that was creeping and lurking, which raised alarms for the herds. Because of this, everyone had to fight prematurely than expected. It wasn’t too bad, stuff like this happens. Not every plan goes accordingly, yes?

Riyo, Enjin, and Rudo took care of the others as you took care of your own herd, pinning and exterminating them as Zanka caught the ones Gris threw at him. He threw a quick glance towards you and behind his full-face, his eyes widened. You were being incredibly aggressive and even sloppy with your movements: nothing like you usually are in cleaning missions. You slipped and attacked, jumped and dodged, blocking a Trash Beasts and hauling it over to crash into the other of its kind.

Just barely, barely — a goat-like Trash Beast aimed its rusted, toxic metal-horns at you, dashing forwards. His eyes widened further as Zanka caught the last Trash Beast thrown at him and smashed it on the ground with his anima, running up to you. By some miracle, your leg slid on some unknown oil spill, sending you slipping down as you sucked in a sharp intake, the trash beast narrowly missing you— attacking its kin by accident. Zanka yanked you up with his frustration not known and walked off, stiff in his posture.

“What was I—I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” you retaliated, your foot tapping against the floor. Zanka looked down before your foot ceased movement. Strike 1, he caught you. One of your nervous stims. “[Name]. If you can’t even answer the most easiest question, let me lay it down to ya’ flat.” He whispered, getting close. This time, your feet were planted still on the ground. You didn’t back off this time.

“Ever since this day, no—earlier this week. You’ve been like this. Distracted, sloppy, you even let me win some rounds in our spar yesterday. What the fuck is going on with you?”

“What the—what the fuck is going on with me?”

“Yeah. In case your hearing as grown bad as well,” he hushed, his dark eyes gazing into you with a scowl. “What the fuck is going on with you.”

If you thought your headache was hitting, it was searing now. “You’re mad I’m not excelling anymore, huh? You’re angry that you’re becoming stronger and far better—you just can’t stand it knowing I was good at one point.”

His eyes narrowed but softened around the edges, confused. “What, [Na—“

“No.” You snapped, stepping into his space. “No. I get it, I’ve gotten weaker, right? You’re angry ever since Semiu told you I’m transferring. You’ve been this way since you heard of that. You got a problem with that, Zanka?”

His head tilted but his face didn’t let go of its frustration. “[Name]. You m—“

“Don’t talk of being weak. Being ‘just the average joe’ because we both know, oh, well I know you’re not. You’re one of the best if not the best one at controlling your vital instrument. Your skill over Lovely Assistaff is the best I’ve ever come across and you dare talk down to yourself like you’re nothing? Why can’t you see that you’re not? You don’t deserve me as your rival if you’ve already surpassed what I can offer to challenge you with. I was distracted in battle and that’s my problem, not yours. Tell me, what is it to you that I’m leaving?”

“It is not that you’re weak, it is you. You have made this rivalry impossible.” His voice came sharp, taking you back. Your brows furrow as your whole expression twist, teeth clenching. “But I’m leaving for the north branch—“

“And it ain’t far enough.” He hisses, veins popping at his temple. Your head leans back instinctively, and his leans forward. Your lips open and close to respond but nothing comes to mind, your arms stuck at your sides. “Do you think there is a corner of this world you could escape far enough to that would free me from this?” He says, holding a fierce eye contact. Your chest rises up and down, looking at him as he continues.

“I taught myself strength. I taught myself respect, honour, realised my own weaknesses and grew from them—but that weakness only grows every second I’m near you. You’re the bane of my existence.”

His voice comes out breathy, and you’ve come to realise he has your back pressed against the shelves, heart rapidly racing. He’s not even a meter away and you’ve subconsciously been moving away.

“..Zankhh..,” you lose your voice, the ability to make sense of things.

You hesitantly swallow and raise your chin to face him. You catch the way his own chest rises when his voice comes out. “And the object of all my desires.”

You freeze, brows softening—but Zanka’s already closing in on the limited space you have. He towers over you, barely talking. “I dream of you. You’re in my…” his words stops being words, and your breath hitches. He’s so close, a hair’s width away as his eyes lose themselves in yours. “Do you even know what you do to me?” He asks, breathes mingling in a fuzzy haze that occupies your mind. You can’t even answer, your mouth won’t allow it. His hand comes up to hold the shelf level to your head. “You’re no weakling, you’re nothing close to it,” he exhales deeply, noses barely touching. You feel hot, incredibly hot. Your eyes half-close in the tension that had build tenfold.

Your tongue slides across the roof of your mouth. “I… did not ask for this.” You shut your eyes, shakily draw a constricted breath. “You think you’re the only one who deals with these…” you pause, and you hear a subtle say it by your ear. “…feelings.”

His hand comes by your head, touching your heated cheek. “You think you’re the only one that’s distracted; even in sleep? Don’t you ever notice how… I become when you’re in the same room as me? How it becomes so hard to hold it off, especially in front of the others?” “So you agree… that dealing with this is impossible.”

“Yes…” you sigh, and the air between you grows hotter. Zanka barely, just barely closes the space between you, lips millimeters apart from each other. He comes closer and tilts his face, breathing hard against you. A cloudy haze stuffs your head. Your noses press flat against each other, leaving the lips left to touch. But as Zanka begins to move, he backs off, clenching his fist. His palm leaves your warm cheek and he gazes at you with narrow eyes.

So close, your cloudy head thinks.

You draw a cold breath. He walks around the small library with a hand pressed against the bridge of his nose in irritation. “If you were to leave for the north branch, these feelings would never leave us. You’d grow stronger without me and I’d grow weaker without you. We’d never accept it nor get away from this torture.”

Your brows lose tightness along with the headache that throbbed against your skull, now left with… with something. “I would spend everyday of the rest of my life wanting you, dreaming of you. Is that what you wish for?”

When you don’t respond, he repeats. “For your future in the north branch?”

You let out a shudder, finding barely the power to talk when the two of you hear the sounds of the others talking outside the room, coming closer. Blinking back into focus, Zanka heaves and stares at you. “Think about it,” he says, inching towards you with an unstable exhale as he comes into your space once more before turning on his heel. Your head moves to watch his figure leave the small, library room, listening closely to the hard stomps that evens out into silence once you can’t hear him anymore.

Zanka runs his hand through his hair, barely holding himself together. His heart erratically pounding against his chest. A soft, red hue paints his cheeks.

You drive him absolutely insane.

taglist; @lolliedolliee