“Don’t Let Go…”

ONE KISS LESS

feat. nagi seishiro x gn! reader

prompt: "bend down a little so i can give you a kiss." (requested by anon for my 1k event! i think nagi is a bit ooc here but you know it's fine)

nagi is a tall guy for someone who's just eighteen years old. you on the other hand was stuck with a short height, just barely reaching 5'2. although there were some perks to being short, nagi loves teasing you about how short you are.

for example, you were struggling with getting the highest cup on the shelf because someone decided to be an annoying little shit and placed it there. however, instead of helping you, nagi only leans against the doorway, stifling a laugh, and said, "you look funny trying to reach the cup."

you gave him the biggest frown you could muster, "shut up and at least help me? don't just stand there and laugh at me!" nagi didn't help you, and instead gives you a smile and leaves. you ended up having to use a chair.

however, nagi being taller than you also has it's own perks. he was able to fully engulf you in a hug when cuddling, scaring weird people off when they try to talk to you because he towers over them, and many other things.

"sei, do you need anything from the grocery store?" you asked as you put your shoes on. when you don't hear a reply, you turn your head to the couch nagi was sitting on and see that he was too focused on his video game.

you sighed and walked over to him and stood in front of him, placing both hands on your hips. "sei, did you hear what i just said?"

"mm? yeah, i did," nagi replies, though his eyes did not leave his phone. "ah, i died." he lets out a sigh and finally looks at you.

"so? do you need anything?" you repeat the question.

"no, don't need anything," nagi replies, letting his phone fall down to the empty space next to him. "you're leaving now, right? bend down a little so i can give you a kiss."

you blinked and let out a laugh. "pft, that sounds funny when you're the one who says it. usually i'm the one who says that whenever you're about to go leave for practice. no wonder you find it amusing."

nagi gives you a glare and stands up, immediately becoming taller than you. "so? kiss me."

"okay that's not fair," you lift your head, annoyed that nagi was now standing. "you can't just stand up after i just said that!"

"hm? i don't like sitting around all day though," nagi teases, and you can't help but want to smack him. "kiss me, y/n."

you grit your teeth in annoyance and instead of kissing him, you turn around and walked to the door. "if you don't need anything else i'm leaving."

nagi makes a sound of surprise and quickly caught up to you, grabbing hold of your wrist as a pout forms on his face. "you can't just leave without giving me a kiss!"

"you were being annoying so no thanks," you give him a cheeky smile. "so if you don't mind, i'll be going-"

nagi suddenly pulls you into a kiss, briefly catching you off guard. your eyes widened in surprise, and when he pulls away, he gives you a smile. "mm, you were saying?" you opened your mouth to say something, but all you can do is just gape at him, cheeks turning red. "what? cat got your tongue?"

"nagi seishiro, what the fuck!" you exclaimed, smacking his forearm (gently of course).

taglist: @hyomagiri @tim-shii @fallenssun @17020 @saetoshi @inariezaki @venusbby @piichuu @yuansen @yuquinzel ♡ (let me know if you want to be added or removed! mutuals only)

COMPLIMENT IDEAS #2

Here’s some more compliment based dialogue to use in your writing: 

“I love that color on you”

“You make me feel at home”

“I’ve never seen eyes the same color as yours”

“You look so cute when you laugh”

“Has anyone ever told you you have really nice hands?”

“I’m not going if you’re not going, it wouldn’t be fun without you”

“How is your skin always so soft?”

“Whoa I didn’t know you could sing”

“You have a great sense of humor”

“I thought you said you can’t dance?”

“I appreciate you”

“Your breath smells really good”

“I’m so lucky to have you”

“You always have great ideas”

“I trust your opinion”

“I would never doubt you”

“You’re so clever”

“I’m rooting for you”

“You always know exactly what to say”

“I feel like I’ve known you forever”

(source)

Unsplash -  photography, illustration, and art

Pixabay - same as unsplash

Pexels - stock photos and videos

Stockvault.net - stock photos

freepngimg - icons, pictures and clipart

Veceezy - vectors and clipart

Getdrawings - simplistic images and drawing tutorials

Gumroad - photoshop brushes (and more)

Canva - needs login but has lots of templates

Library of Congress - historical posters and photos

NASA - you guessed it

Creative Commons - all kinds of stuff, homie

Even Adobe has some free images

There are so many ways to make moodboards, bookcovers, and icons without infringing copyright! As artists, authors, and other creatives, we need to be especially careful not to use someone else’s work and pass it off as our own. 

Please add on if you know any more sites for free images <3

haechan: *dramatic gasp* mark can use TECHNOLOGY???!?

☆ Sentence Starters ☆                Dying

❝ I never thought it would end this way.. ❞

❝ I tried.. I tried for the last time… ❞

❝ Please remember me, it’s all I ask… ❞

❝ I’m not ready for this.. I’m too young… ❞

❝ Oh God— it HURTS so BAD! ❞

❝ I’ll watch over you always… ❞

❝ At least my pain will finally be put at ease… ❞

❝ Why me..? ❞

❝ At least I could protect you one last time… ❞

❝ Keep everyone safe for me, okay..? ❞

❝ I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… ❞

❝ This is it… this is how it ends. ❞

❝ Keep yourself safe… ❞

❝ Please make the pain stop.. ❞

❝ Just finish me, do it quickly, please…! ❞

❝ What– NO!!! ❞

❝ Why would you do that?! ❞

❝ NO! Keep your eyes open! You must survive! ❞

❝ I can’t live without you! ❞

❝ I’m so sorry… I couldn’t protect you.. ❞

❝ What have I done…!? ❞

❝ Oh God no, please, no.. ❞

❝ Please watch over me… ❞

❝ I’ll never forget you! I promise! ❞

❝ No, wait! You can’t die! Not yet! ❞

❝ What about all the things we had planned?! You can’t leave now! ❞

Regis: Who is he?

Kingsglaive: Not a fuckin’ clue.

Regis: Well, whoever he is, he clearly wants to do us harm.

Ardyn, on the next roof over: FIGHT ME!

Regis, yelling out the window: WHO EVEN ARE YOU!

Ardyn: YOUR DOOM! NOW COME AND FACE ME LIKE A KING, YOU COWARD!

Regis: ???

Many years later.

Regis: It’s you. :/

Ardyn: It’s me :3~

childe x gn! reader / fake dating au / reader is a fatui medic / childhood friends to (fake) lovers / fluff(..???) light angst at the end / mutual pining

"my family thinks we're dating."

you pause.

"aja– tartaglia, you're half-bleeding to death and that's your biggest worry?"

the ginger stifles a wince, disguising his discomfort with a chuckle. (you notice. you always do. so you take a deep breath because the eleventh harbinger of the fatui is absolutely intolerable.)

“if you stay still, i’ll do it.” you sigh, knowing fully well the irrevocable mess you were getting yourself into.

the way his (stupid. idiotic. unreasonably charming) face splits into a grin makes you decide that it’s worth setting your heart on fire and watching it turn into bitter ashes just for the temporary warmth in your heart, rivalling even the coldest of snowstorms in snezhnaya.

half a month flies by.

you find yourself on the doorsteps of childe's home with his arms enveloping you amidst the crystalline snowflakes drifting across the nation of ice. he can sense how nervous you are, despite the calm facade instilled into your facial features with fluency and ease.

so he does what every good– decent, you insist, boyfriend would do. tartaglia, code-name childe, teases you to the very ends of hell, cupping your crimson-tinted cheeks and mockingly— endearingly pinching the lobes of your ears.

(childe is a little mixed up with the intricacies of a romantic relationship but at least he’s got the spirit, you think, as if he wasn’t in possession of your fragile heart, holding it with abnormal care with the way he treats you.)

the door swings open, all hell breaks loose.

you make out something akin to "aww, i betted on an imaginary partner." in the background, paired with excited squeals and shouts coming from ajax's younger siblings amongst the crackling of fire.

it's absolutely insulting that his siblings like you more than they do him, ajax insists. it’s ironic, really— considering he feels the same way as his siblings do.

(he blames it how you silently care for him.)

he knows of the way you sneak fleeting glances at him in the midst of a meeting. the way you never say no to him despite disapproving of his horribly self-destructive ideas. the way you slip painkillers in his drink when you see him grimace from a throbbing wound.

what childe fails to notice is the way you look at him.

“so… when are you going to put a ring on it?” ajax’s mother trails off, cerulean eyes teasingly flickering between the two of you.

you choke on your food. ajax’s cheeks flushes a drunken red. to your utmost dismay, the harbinger gets down on one knee in a grandeur manner despite his intoxicated state, fumbling with the ring tucked in his pocket.

why does he have a ring tucked in his pocket?

"ajax, you're drunk." you coo lovingly in the eyes of his family members, smiling at the noises of interest that echo around the dining room. "sorry about that. it happens quite often, really." you hum, and the next thing you know you're being sent to his bedroom with an extra bottle of vodka and extremely enthusiastic blessings from his parents.

you wind up with your lap as his head rest, stroking his unexpectedly soft hair as he practically vibrates from his sprawled out form on the bed.

there is absolutely no upside to loving childe, you conclude.

(maybe there was a tiny lie in that, considering it means you get to see how his slightly handsome face twists into a sheepish grin when one of his terrible ideas fail, how a tuff of ginger hair falls between the ridge of his nose and eyes no matter how often he tries pinning it back up every single day, how charming he actually is– no, no. the point is that you don't love–)

"shhhh, don't tell anyone, but i'm desperately in love with (name)."

time freezes into tiny shards of shattered glass, you're holding your breath unknowingly and childe is still looking at the ceiling with lovesick eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

“maybe they’re in love with you too.” you suggest shakily, not paying any mind to his piercing gaze. ajax hums, eyes slowly closing as he succumbs into the embrace of alcohol.

his thoughts are slurring, the only thing on his mind is you, you, you. "'s impossible," he mumbles, "i always want what i can't have– childhood friends or not, i wouldn't want to lose them to my sappy feelings."

maybe that's the closure you need. no matter the sins he carries, nor the frigid chains of the tsaritsa and all that lies in the abyss laid upon him, it was always destined to end like this.

it is when you understand this in the depths of ajax's monotonous sapphire eyes that you realise;

you are undeniably in love with him.

haechan (verb): to be terrifying

Derek choked and coughed, as he slowly slid away from the wreckage, his head spun-and he knew that blood dripped down his head, yet he couldn’t feel the pain.He blinked the black spots from his eyes, as his headlights illuminated the slowly drifting snow,The man’s blood left gleaming droplets in the expanse of white.  

The car had hit black ice.He had been clutching the steering wheel in a death grip.  

Too fast.Derek had been driving too fast.  

“Er-ic?”his voice broke, and he struggled to stand, his son had been in the passenger side.Derek managed to stand and he stumbled to the wreckage of the car,”Oh,god pleas-e. I kno-w I don’t deserve him-m but  plea-se…”his heart pounded through his chest and tears were flowing freely.”Pl-ease don’t tak-e him!”  

He gripped onto the crushed roof, and he looked through the broken window.His knees gave out, and his head swirled.A cry of anguish broke from his lips.Eric was dead.The awkward angle of his neck told Derek not to search for a pulse.The salesman knew that he should call for help, but he let himself slid down into the snow.  

He willed the cold to take him.  

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ LUCKY — GOJO SATORU.

contents. baths + non sexual nudity, established relationships, tired toru :(, lots of kissies and praise for the babie :(, solid proof in the form of writing of how embarrassingly lovesick i am for this FOOL

it’s past midnight when satoru walks into your bathroom. he doesn’t even question why you’re in the bath so late—just gives you a lopsided grin tiredly as you smile.

“you’re home,” you brighten.

“look at you,” he coos, staring down at you with amused eyes, “waitin’ for me?”

satoru is tired—you can tell from the way the his shoulders are slouched and his blindfold is clutched in his hand. “i was,” you hum in agreement, “c’mere.”

it’s all it takes. he’s stripped down and waiting for you to move up so he can slide behind you in seconds, hand waving to motion you forward. but you’re stubborn—you shake your head as you hold an arm out for him.

“baby,” he whines, “c’mon i was out fighting big bad curses all day. jus’ lemme hold—”

“no. just come here, toru,” you insist.

there’s something about it—something about the way your voice is so gentle, so insistent, so knowing. it’s like you can read him more than he can, sometimes. satoru is tired, you can see it, you can feel it. you can’t carry his burdens, but you can hold him while he holds the weight of the world for a night.

maybe it’ll do for now—maybe it’ll even be enough and more.

“what? feelin’ like pampering me today?” he teases, “aren’t i a lucky guy,” he hums—but he climbs into the tub anyway, settling between your legs, leaning his back against your chest as his head falls back against your shoulder.

instantly, two gentle kisses plant themselves against his head, and his eyes flutter shut. he’s starting to feel the beginnings of a headache form—the gentle thump in his skull just barely there, but persistently present.

your thumbs rubs along the sides of his head, enough pressure to soothe the pain like you know it’s coming—he thinks you must.

“you are a lucky guy,” you giggle, “look at me. such a catch.”

he grins, chuckling that boyish chuckle of his freely in your arms as he relaxes. it’s been a while since he’s relaxed, you think—it’s half past midnight and he’ll be up with the sun in a bit to head back to the school, but it’s nice to know he’s relaxed. even just for this short, rare moment.

“oh yeah,” he nods, lips curled into a grin as he cracks an eye open and peers up at you, “s no catch like my pretty ‘lil baby. i’m living it up.”

“glad you know your privileges,” you murmur contently, shaking your head in amusement as you wrap your arms around his body. one hand rubs over his abs—he wants to tease you about feeling him up, wants to make a sly comment about missing his body more than him while he was gone. but there’s something about it, about the way it’s so slow and soothing and soft—it’s so painfully soft, satoru swallows.

finally, he lets his body go slack against yours, sliding down so his head rests against your chest and the water soaks more of his body. it’s warm. the water and your arms. it’s all so, so warm and forgiving.

“aren’t you gonna tell me how lucky you are too? i’ll listen, don’t worry. no interruptions.”

“yeah?” you chuckle, threading fingers through his hair and pulling a soft sigh from him, “wanna know how lucky i am?”

“course,” he murmurs, “well, i already know you’re lucky. it’s me after all—but i’m not opposed to hearing it.”

“how humble of you, satoru,” you snort.

he grins wider—he hasn’t had a chance to smile all day. not properly, at least.

“feel free to start any second,” he says with a wink. then his eyes flutter shut again as your thumb traces his cheek, ever so gently running along the soft angles of his face.

it’s pretty—everything about him is pretty. there are no ugly parts to satoru. just the parts painted from cruel hands. they’re beautiful too, you like to think, in their own, fragile little ways.

“okay,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head, “i’m very lucky,” you murmur into his hair.

he hums, mumbling a quiet, “knew it.”

“lucky i have such a handsome face to greet,” you pepper kisses along his forehead and find his cheek, giving it an affectionate little bite that makes him huff out an amused chuckle. “and he’s so tall too,” you add, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“that all he is?” he pouts, “just a pretty face? you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

“no,” you say quietly, grabbing his hand and brushing a thumb over his knuckles, “he’s also kind. too kind, sometimes,” you say quietly, “he comes home a bit later than usual every once in a while because he took his students out to eat. he loves them a bit too much, i think.”

“no such thing as too much love,” he hums, squeezing your hand.

you smile, admiring him as he lays against you, small in your hold even with the larger than life weight he carries.

“and he’s strong,” you add, “really strong. it’s not fair sometimes,” you whisper, “he’s got so much on his plate.”

“he handles it fine,” he assures, “he always does.”

“and then he still makes time for little old me,” you say fondly, kissing his shoulder, “never lets me feel lonely. he’s too good to me.”

“there’s no such thing as too good for you,” he gasps offendedly, pouting like you’ve insulted him, “he’s definitely not—”

“and sometimes, he comes home tired. and he tries to act like he’s not because he’s a bit of a prick who doesn’t let me help, but i’m smart and i know him well so i’ve figured it out. and if i’m extra lucky, i might get to hold him for a bit like this and help him relax.”

you squeeze him gently for emphasis, holding him closer as you press your nose into his neck and breathe in his smell. it’s like cologne that’s rudely expensive and that sweet smell only satoru has—it’s all you want to breathe in for the rest of your days.

you hope he’ll allow you that much. something tells you he will.

satoru swallows thickly at that, rubs a thumb over your bare thigh as he rests his free hand over it, the other still in your grasp.

and then, quietly, “maybe he’s fine just coming home to you,” he shrugs, “who can stay tired with such a sweet face waiting at home?”

“i don’t know,” you say thoughtfully, “he’s got a lot to take care of. wonder how he does it.”

“he’s probably the strongest,” he shoots with an easy grin, “sounds like the strongest to me.”

“he is,” you nod, “he’s a lot more than that too. i’m lucky he’s mine.”

“oh yeah?” he drawls—there’s something a little shaky about his voice though.

you choose not to mention it, pressing soft, delicate kisses along his jaw as you murmur, “yeah. he makes me feel really, really lucky. love him so much.”

“love you too,” satoru breathes, “guess we’re both really, really lucky.”

don’t talk to me i don’t want to be perceived. that’s enough softness for a lifetime so the next time i write him he’s getting hit by a bus