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Giving you an extra hand by cloudss_space
Fandoms: Wake Me Up If You Need Me (Visual Novel)
10 Mar 2025
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The first time he steps onto the board, he loses his balance and falls hard onto the concrete. The sound of his fall echoes sharp in the open air, a mix of a dull thud and his own startled curse. You press a hand to your mouth, laughter threatening to spill over, but the sight of his disheveled form—legs tangled, hands braced against the pavement—breaks your restraint. It starts as a giggle, small and breathless, but you soon find yourself doubled over, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable laughter. "You're—" you gasp between laughs, "you're so bad at this!" Reed glares up at you, but there's no real heat behind it. He's just playing along. "Glad you're enjoying my suffering," he mutters, dusting off his jeans before standing up. You wipe at the corners of your eyes, still grinning, and hand the board back to him. "Come on, try again."
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Growing up, you felt the weight of eyes on you from every corner of the room. It wasn't the warm gaze of approval or the gentle encouragement of someone who wanted you to thrive. These eyes were sharp, like knives, dissecting you piece by piece, carving out the parts that didn't fit their expectations. You were a canvas they demanded to be perfect, but their tools weren't brushes—they were scalpels, precise and ruthless. Every glance was a silent demand, every word an unspoken expectation. You had to be something, you had to create something, you had to prove that you were more than just skin and bone. Your worth was measured in accomplishments, in trophies, in how brightly you could shine under their unyielding scrutiny. But even the brightest stars burn out, don't they?
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You're safer here by cloudss_space
Fandoms: In the sillage lies your image (Visual Novel)
09 Jan 2025
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The room feels distant, as if your senses are wrapped in cotton. Every sound, every whisper of wind outside, feels muffled, and the ticking of the clock is too loud in the silence. You turn your back on Than's words, determined to find space to breathe, but the guilt sits like a stone in your chest. He doesn't know the depth of your fatigue, the fog that clouds your every movement, the weight of it pulling you under. Than would always be there for you, their presence a steadying beacon in times of storm, but not this time. You are too enmeshed in your own chaos to reach out. The only comfort now is the slow rhythm of your breath, a fragile tether to something real in a blurred world.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,938
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 2
- Hits:
- 18
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But even in death, there is no peace.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,103
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 2
- Hits:
- 13
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Frogs are... nice. by cloudss_space
Fandoms: In the sillage lies your image (Visual Novel)
08 Jan 2025
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The crush grew steadily, like ivy curling around your ribs, tightening with every shared moment. You noticed things you hadn't before: the soft rasp in his voice when he was tired, the tiny scar on his knuckle from when he punched a wall in frustration years ago, the way his hands always seemed to find yours when words weren't enough. It wasn't just that he was beautiful, though he was in his own rugged, unpolished way. But it was more than that. It was the way he made you feel seen.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,935
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 2
- Hits:
- 10
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Their love was fragile, delicate as gossamer, forged in the crucible of shared pain. It wasn't a love born of sunshine and laughter but of shadows and scars, of nights spent stitching wounds—both literal and figurative—and finding solace in each other's brokenness. Than loved deeply, quietly, like the roots of an ancient tree digging into the earth, unseen but unshakable. Their love was not grand or sweeping, but in the small, almost imperceptible acts: he would stay up to watch them sleep after a battle, as if keeping vigil could shield them from nightmares; they would gently tease him out of his silences with a soft smile and a shared joke only they could understand. Their love was a sanctuary built from fragments, each one imperfect but pieced together with care.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,155
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 3
- Hits:
- 14
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The rain slashes against your windows like a chaotic rhythm. It is not a gentle drizzle but a downpour that roars with the weight of an argument, rattling through the gutters and splashing onto the pavement in furious bursts. You sit by the window, one knee tucked against your chest, watching the world outside drown in silver streaks and blurred edges. The sky is slate grey, heavy and unrelenting. It feels as though the entire world has folded inward under its weight.
Your phone buzzes on the table, its light cutting through the gloom. Ronin's message appears, sharp as the rain outside. "What, no umbrella for your mood today?" You can almost hear the smirk behind his words, the cocky tilt of his voice. You type back with a grin, the faint tap of the keys breaking the rain's hypnotic cadence.
You lose track of time like this, the hours slipping through your fingers as the rain pounds its relentless tattoo. Every few minutes, your phone lights up. Another message from him, pulling you away from the somber dance of raindrops against glass. You text back, rolling your eyes at his reply: "If you had a throne, it'd be made of sarcasm."
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The night air is heavy and thick with the scent of rain. You can feel the electricity of it in your bones. The sky is a deep, swirling shade of indigo, clouds gathering like whispers of secrets shared between the heavens and earth. A brief lull gives way to the first drop, cold and sharp against your skin, and then the storm opens up, a cascade of water pouring from the sky in an endless stream. You look at Reed, standing beside you, and see the hesitation in his eyes as the rain drum-moves on the pavement. He's tired, his gaze soft and weary, but there's something in the way he watches you that tells you he's not going to argue. Without a word, you pull him close, your hand on his, and you lead him to the door.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,003
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 14
- Hits:
- 79
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Before you and Reed started dating, there was an unspoken rhythm between you two – a familiar pattern that played out whenever a maths question crept up on you, or when the weight of the numbers felt heavier than you could bear. You would always reach out to him, as you always did, because you knew you could depend on his steady explanations and patient ear. You would find yourself hovering over the phone, unsure whether to call or not, but knowing that he would always answer, his voice soft and familiar, always willing to lend a hand. You would ask him for help in a certain way, framing your question as a game, sneaking in a little more time with him without admitting that you enjoyed the connection more than the maths itself. You could always rely on the warmth of his smile and the quiet laughter he offered when you got flustered or lost in a problem. His voice would soften as he guided you through the steps, his patience infinite, and every now and then, a little teasing would slip through, just enough to make you smile despite yourself. It was never just about the numbers; it was about the time shared, the quiet exchanges, the way you both found comfort in something as ordinary as solving equations together.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,164
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 13
- Hits:
- 90
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The sun sets, casting amber light over the earth as you walk with Ronin. His hand is warm and steady in yours. The air carries the scents of dew and fresh wildflowers, a quiet symphony that the evening breeze gently carries. The tall grass brushes your legs as you walk, swaying like a slow dance in the wind, and the faint whisper of nature surrounds you, as if the world is exhaling in peaceful contentment. You feel the warmth of Ronin's presence beside you, his gaze soft as it flickers across the horizon, where the sky bleeds into shades of lavender and rose. The path winds ahead, a ribbon of earth between fields of vibrant blossoms, their petals holding the colours of dusk. It's as though nature has painted this moment just for the two of you, a canvas waiting for you to step into it, where everything feels perfectly aligned, as if time itself has slowed to let you breathe in the beauty of the present.
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There are moments when his hunger for death rises within him: a deep craving that clawed at him when he was a reaper, a need to return to the silent cold of the graveyard. But now, with flesh and blood, he cannot indulge it. Instead, it turns into a deep sorrow, a longing for something he cannot name, something he doesn't know how to satiate. You see it in his eyes: a quiet storm brewing, the part of him that was once pure darkness, now tamed but still restless, still seeking. It pulls at him like the gravity of his old existence, that pull toward inevitability, the desire to return to a world without pain or joy, without the sharpness of love or the sweetness of touch. His jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks as though he might crumble into dust. But then he turns to you, and your presence is a tether that keeps him from floating away, from losing himself again in the deep abyss of endless endings. His fingers find yours and his touch sends a tremor through you, as if every touch, every feeling, every heartbeat is a revelation to him.
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Every day, his laughter wraps around you like the familiar weight of a favourite blanket. It is rich, textured and layered, a sound that carries the memories of a thousand shared jokes and countless moments of pure joy. His humour is never cutting, but sharp enough to make you feel seen, to let you know he notices every nuance of your soul. And when you laugh together, it's like music, a melody that only the two of you understand, weaving your lives closer together with every note.
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You wake up in a house that feels like an abandoned temple. The air is stale and thick with the echoes of your own loneliness. The walls, once vibrant, have faded to a dull grey, like your spirit, dulled by the endless years of silence. Your feet touch the cold floor, the texture of it scraping against your skin, reminding you that warmth, the comfort of being held, was a distant memory—one that slipped away long ago, swallowed by the shadows in this suffocating place.
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Ronin's life was marked by the uneven scars of battle, etched into the landscape of his existence. Time was a cruel, indifferent companion, handing him moments of peace like a brief breath between endless storms. His face, once smooth like a river's surface, was now a fractured reflection, fissures of age, suffering, and loss dividing his features. His eyes, once bright with the raw fire of youth, were now dimmed by the weight of too many lives lost and too many battles fought.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,214
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 21
- Hits:
- 292
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A "perfect" birthday by cloudss_space
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)
28 Dec 2024
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bakugo MIGHT have destroyed the kitchen.. i dont know.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,464
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 15
- Hits:
- 366
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Once the cake is made... we can eat it by cloudss_space
Fandoms: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game)
27 Dec 2024
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The early morning sun breaks through the soft curtains, casting a golden glow on the world outside. The air is crisp, the quiet hum of the earth's stillness before the rush of the day. The scent of dawn is fresh—dew-kissed grass, the hint of pine trees, and something deeper, something more familiar. It's your birthday and the start of another year, but everything feels like it's unfolding in this moment, here, in the warmth of Xiao's arms.
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Wise had a thought about Lighter. It was soft, unspoken and persistent. This feeling wasn't new, but it had grown steadily, weaving itself into the quiet moments of his life. Sometimes it was a flicker, faint and fleeting, and other times it loomed large, filling the spaces between his breaths.
It began with Lighter's laughter, a sound so pure and free that it painted colours Wise couldn't name. That laugh was a melody that lingered long after the moment had passed, echoing in the chambers of his mind as though refusing to be forgotten. It wasn't just the sound; it was the way Lighter's eyes crinkled at the corners, the way his shoulders shook with unrestrained mirth. Wise found himself caught up in the contagious joy, and he knew it was real.
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gotta bake. gotta make that food make memes
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The sunlight filters through the canopy of leaves above, dappling the ground in patches of gold and shadow. Each step feels lighter than the last, as though the earth itself recognises the connection between you and Ronin and chooses to cushion your journey. His thumb strokes idly over the back of your hand, a small but grounding motion. When you glance up at him, his soft smile mirrors the warmth in your chest.
You pass clusters of wildflowers that sway in the breeze like delicate dancers, their petals kissed by sunlight. The air hums with the quiet songs of nature—the trill of distant birds, the rustle of leaves, the gentle murmur of a nearby stream. It's a day that feels otherworldly, a perfect moment stolen from a dream.