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bbyheedeungie · 3 years

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Tales of the ring | Orphan! Jay AU Part 1

Pairings: Jay x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, eventual smut, age gap (4 years)

Warnings: suggestive content, messy timeline

Synopsis: You've spent most of your lives together at a Catholic orphanage in a small town, with Jay being left there as an infant and you volunteering there since you were thirteen years old. Now twenty-three, every child in the orphanage looks up to you as their older sister. Well, except for that one stubborn kid named Jay.

You always tend to his cuts and bruises when he fell down after climbing on trees with his friends, but not after a long hour of bickering.

"Stop climbing trees if you're just gonna fall down!" You scold 9-year old Jay as you rummaged through the first aid kit.

"Just shut up and fix me up, woman." He demands, his arms crossed over his chest. You sigh.

"I'm just worried about you, okay? You could've broken a bone or something!" You reasoned with him. His eyes turns into slits, glaring at you.

"Are you calling me a wimp?" He challenges. Though it never crossed your mind, the thought of calling him a wimp was indeed amusing. You tried to suppress your laughter but it came out as a snort.

"Hey, I'm not a wimp. Drop it." Jay says, almost coming out as a whine. You nod, trying to calm yourself down from wanting to laugh. Cause you know Jay's going to end you if he even hears anything close to a giggle come out from your lips.

"Still as wimpy as ever, huh?" You teased him as you disinfected his wounded knees. He was sitting on the couch with you kneeled infront of him, and 16 year old Jay just can't seem to take his eyes off you.

Your lower lip is caught in between your teeth as you concentrated on his cuts, and Jay licks his own lips unconsciously.

At 20 years old, you have grown to be quite a lady, Jay notes. Beautiful, luscious hair that complimented the perfect features of your face, your body slightly plump in some places which gave you that womanly figure, dainty and gentle hands that cared for his wounds, any man would think of you as wife material. And Jay couldn't help but huff in annoyance at the thought of other men wanting you for themselves.

"And you're still as annoying as ever." He mutters before he pinched your cheeks hard, making you yelp in pain and involuntarily putting pressure on the cotton ball you were dipping onto his wound. Soon after, you were both crying from pain.

"How could you." He said in betrayal, clutching his wounded knee.

You always chased after him around the orphanage when he had a fever to make him take his medicine when he refused to drink them, dragging him by the back of his shirt to his room to make him rest.

"You can't just pull a stunt like that when I'm fixing up your cuts you dummy." You glared at him, massaging your reddened cheek.

"I don't want to stay in bed, woman. I wanna play outside!" 11-year old Jay huffs in annoyance, kicking off the blanket you've just placed on his body. You sighed and placed it back on him.

"Bold of you to call me a woman after I've just wrestled you at the lobby earlier." 15-year old you chuckled, remembering what you had to go through to make him go back to his room.

"Don't remind me, you were like a freaking hippo back there! Geez." Jay scrunches his nose and turns his back to you.

"You insufferable woman." He mutters as you tuck him into his bed. 18-year old Jay was just as irritable as ever, but only when it came to you.

"Yeah yeah." You rolled your eyes at him dismissively as you placed a cold compress to his forehead. He's such a big baby.

"Stop being a jerk for once and learn to take care of yourself, will you?" You scold him, leaning in to fix the position of his pillow. Jay's heartbeat goes nuts, with your body so close above him. He could just grab you by the waist then and there and hold you tight. Your feminine scent was so alluring, filling up his senses, your skin translucent in the moonlight shining through the windows and he even caught a glimpse of your cleavage through your thin, white dress shirt.

Shit, shit, shit. He thinks, fisting his blanket tightly. His cheeks glowed crimson red, but thankfully you thought it was just because of the fever.

Rest assured, Jay wasn't all that bad as others make him out to be, and you strongly believe this. You remember that one night, it was your fourteenth birthday but you didn't bother telling anyone. You didn't want to burden the sisters, and your family didn't care much about it either. But Jay did. He cared, and he remembered.

You sat on the roof, your secret hiding place, as you admired the starry sky. But it's not really a secret when Jay knows about it. The ten year old boy climbed up, grunting as he struggled keeping his balance. You flinched at the sound and panicked, but it immediately died down when you saw it was just him. He quietly sat beside you.

Silence took over as you sighed in content, taking in the peaceful evening.

"Happy birthday." Jay said, almost a whisper. Your head turns to him and he immediately looks the other way, refusing to meet your eyes.

"Thank you, Jay." You said in gratitude, not bothering to hide your smile. He still refused to look your way as he held out his fist.

"What is it?" You asked in confusion, furrowing your eyebrows at his closed hand. He sighs, taking your hand in his as he placed something cold and hard on your palm.

"It's for you." He says. You gasped, taking in the shiny object encrusted with tiny jewels that glinted in the moonlight.

"Jay, where did you get this?" You ask him, bewildered.

"The sisters said they found that ring in my pocket when they found me outside the door of the orphanage the night that they took me in. It's my most precious possession. In fact, it's my only possession." He says, laughing lightly as he looked up at the sky.

"Must be an heirloom, maybe you came from a wealthy family! Jay, I can't accept this. This is important to you!" You exclaimed, holding the ring back to him.

You're important to me. He thinks.

"Maybe, but they've left me here haven't they?" He simply shrugs.

"But why give it to me?" You asked, holding the ring close to your chest. Jay rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue.

"Hey, no more questions. I gave it to you as a birthday gift, so you better treasure it. Good night." He says and prepares to climb down, leaving you dumbfounded.

At nineteen, Jay was the oldest at the orphanage. He never got adopted, and younger kids would pick on him because of it.

"You never got adopted because your a weirdo."

"They can probably sense that you're useless."

But Jay being Jay, he'd beat them up everytime just because their faces annoy him. And you'd be the one to ask for forgiveness for his sake everytime he got in trouble. You knew him well enough to know that although he'd never admit it out loud, seeing other kids like Jungwon and Sunoo get adopted while he gets left behind hurt him more than it should.

"I'm very sorry for Jay's actions, please don't send him away." You begged to the Mother Superior's feet, and Jay couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Not of you, but of himself for having you go through all this for him.

"Noona, please you don't have to do this." He tells you softly, for once as he tries pulling you up to your feet but you just won't budge.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I know you have grown quite close to Jay for the past ten years. But he is now of legal age he can't just keep hurting minors." The mother superior, which is the head of the orphanage states.

"Jay promises he won't do it again, please." You continue to plead, at this point you were so close at kissing the sister's feet if that'll make them forgive Jay.

"What, when did I promised—." He says and you signal him to shut up. The sisters sigh, and decide to just punish Jay by making him work at the farm for a month. You thank them over and over, tears welling in your eyes.

"Y/N, may I have a word with you. Jay, you may retire to your room." The mother superior instructs. Jay looks at you hesitantly, before leaving.

"Have a seat." She commands you, and you oblige.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" You asked.

"Listen, dear. You're now twenty-three years old, you are at your ripest age of getting married. Not only that, but you're also one of the most beautiful maidens of this town. You can't spend your life at this orphanage forever. Won't you consider settling down soon?" She suggests, and you felt a lump in your throat, your heart feeling unease.

"That's alright, Mother Superior. I'm only twenty-three, I still have a lot to figure out in my life. When a man does take interest in me, I'll decide then." You assure her, and stand up to leave.

The next days, you'd wake up early to prepare breakfast for the kids and for Jay before he heads off to the farm. Jay being the stubborn boy he is, refuses to sit down and have breakfast and so on most days, you'd chase after him to bring him his breakfast and lunch box. He'd purposely walk faster, ignoring your shouts. A smirk never leaving his face.

"Jay! Jay! Wait!" You yelled, chasing your breath as you continued to run after him. But your quick steps were no match for his long strides.

"Jay you freaking dimwit! Haaaaalt!" You yell at the top of your lungs with all your might, and he finally stops in his tracks, turning to look at you.

"Oh, you've been calling for me? Did you need something?" He asks, feigning ignorance that you've been shouting his name for a good fifteen minutes. You huff, stomping towards him angrily. His face smug the whole time.

Others would think you're ready to punch him in the face, but instead you would take his hand and place his boxed meal there. You sigh.

"Take care of yourself, okay? And finish everything I packed for you." You say. Jay simply rolls his eyes and waves a hand at you dismissively.

"Yeah yeah, just don't go missing me too much." He teases, suppressing a smile. You scoffed, punching his shoulder lightly.

"Damn right, I wont." You stuck your tongue at him before waving him goodbye, running back to the orphanage.

As you walked back, you notice a fancy carriage parked in front of the orphanage. Many people were gathered around, gossiping.

"The crown prince has selected candidates to be his wife."

"Now that the queen has passed away, the prince must choose his bride in order to ascend to the throne."

"Oh what a lucky girl she must be."

You slip through the crowd of people, successfully making your way inside.

"Oh here she is now." Mother Superior introduces you to the men in fancy clothing, and you stood their dumbfounded.

"She is a beauty indeed." The men agreed to themselves.

"What exactly is happening?" You whisper to the Mother Superior.

"They came here for you, my child. You have been selected by the prince to become a candidate of being his wife. I've already had your suitcases ready, they will take you to the palace now. And don't worry, I've already informed your parents and they are more than happy and wished you the best."

Everything was happening so fast, it's like everything's been decided for you. And amidst the chaos in your mind, you could only think of one person. Jay.

"What about Jay, I haven't said goodbye—" You pleaded to the old woman to let you see Jay one last time but the footmen has announced your departure to the palace. You choked on your tears as pain burned through your chest, clutching Jay's ring to your chest as you were brought further and further away from the place you called home all your life.

Jay plowed the soil over and over, sweat trickling down his neck and forehead. The sun is high and the heat is a pretty tough companion.

"Jay! Jay!" Jay's friend, Sunghoon called his name, sprinting towards him as if his life depended on it. Sunghoon was one of the orphan kids who got adopted recently, whose home was only a few blocks away from the orphanage. Jay halted his work, placing the tool beside him.

"Haven't seen you in a while, what brings you here?" He raises his eyebrow. Sunghoon holds onto his knees as he catches his breath, before uttering words that shattered Jay's heart into pieces.

"No, it can't be." He refuses to believe it, shaking his head aggressively as tears welled in his eyes. It felt as if he was pierced so deeply in the chest with a dagger, so agonizingly painful.

"It is true, they took Y/N to the palace to become the prince's bride. It's been the talk of the town all morning." Sunghoon is sad for his friend, knowing his feelings for her all along.

"No! Y/N wouldn't do that, she wouldn't leave just like that. No." Jay cried and ran his way back to the orphanage, leaving his belongings behind.

He enters the orphanage, screaming for your name.

"Noona? Noona! I'm here, I'm here now. Noona? Where are you?" He kept on calling for you, his voice breaking as tears blurred his vision. The sisters tried to calm him down but he shoved their hands away from him.

"No! It can't be, she couldn't have left. Please tell me she didn't leave, please." Jay crumbled as he called your name over and over in agony. He begged for everything to be just some sick joke, a prank you planned to get back at him for always being so mean to you.

"Y/N." He choked out before everything spiraled infront of him and went black.

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cinnamonest · 3 years

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Albedo idol girl darling thoughts M A N I F E S T E D

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Well, to be entirely honest, he thinks the whole idol thing is a little dumb.

For someone like him, at least. He's a PhD student in his final semester, lots of work to be done and all that. So, you know, he's a responsible, accomplished adult. Not the kind of person who gets into "that stuff," as he calls it in his head.

Nor does he even know how he encountered it... He just takes the occasional break from work to mindlessly open whatever app first pops into his vision and scroll through the feed. He's never watched anything like it in his life, so he's not exactly sure why he gets recommended some idol girl thing, and even less sure why he taps it without really thinking. Probably one of those videos that gets recommended to everyone. Well, can't be that, it doesn't have that many views... Probably loosely connected to some video game he's searched before or something. He's familiar with idols and what they are, and the subculture surrounding them, but he's never really cared about it.

Honestly, it's kinda pathetic that a bunch of grown adult men get so obsessed over these girls, he thinks as he watches. He's seen the type. Lonely, asocial dudes, most definitely virgins whose only female attention in their entire life is their mother, well into adulthood with no real social group to speak of.

...Not that he's much better off, but he hasn't quite sunk down to their level. The only reason he doesn't talk to people much is because they're busy, and he's even busier. He managed to make a few friends in undergrad years. Well, study partners who mooched off his notes since he was one of the top students, but same idea. They were people he spoke to more than once, which is what constitutes a friend, right? And for the record, one time in high school a girl in his class said she liked his hair. He hasn't changed the way he wears it since. Whenever he's sad, he thinks about that compliment from 10+ years ago, and it makes him feel a little better. But now, he's constantly slammed with work and research.

And his acquaintances are also all busy. He sees notifications every now and then from social media he never checks. Everyone is getting married at this stage in life, both friends and even other PhD students in his department. Not that he's ever been invited to a wedding, he just overhears a lot of conversations, sees notifications of posts. And he will too, eventually. He just has to finish up his degree, and then... Meet a girl. Well, that's actually the second step, step one would be finding out how to go about meeting a girl. He's... Never done it before. Probably does not happen sitting in the research lab at 11:30 pm on YouTube. He's talked to one of the other PhD students who's a girl before. And only stutters sometimes. He was even able to look her in the face while he talked to her once. That's a good start.

Ok, so maybe he is a little bit pathetic, but not as bad as... These guys. Reading the comments of the video actually make him feel a little better about himself, because frankly, they're kinda wild. The worship and fawning over girls is one thing, but they even have timestamps referring to various members like "she's super cute here!" Or "you can kinda see her thigh at 3:12!" Etc etc. Yeesh, creepy. And they get into comment fights over who is the best member, as if it even matters. It's fascinating in a human-social-experiment sort of way, the manifestation of a subculture and how humans interact with each other. On and on it goes, hundreds of commenters. He pays more attention to the comments than the actual video, but the song is kinda catchy in that annoying sort of way, and the girls are cute, just kinda... The typical thing he'd expect from idol groups. But the building will close soon, so he taps back to home screen and swipes the app closed.

Unfortunately, the algorithm remembers.

And he's not certain why he clicks the next one either, the following day. The lunch breaks he takes are usually pretty rushed. Not that he has specific class times at his level of academia, but he likes to get his work done. He intentionally eats either a bit later or earlier than the lunch crowd to avoid crowds and interactions. Finds a nice secluded little table tucked away. So when he opens it back up, what do you know, several more videos get recommended. It's absent minded when he taps on one, the kind of numb-brained entertainment every modern person indulges in, videos you wouldn't really be interested in but just watch because they're there.

Ok, this is really creepy. These dudes have made compilation videos of close ups of each specific girl. It's the same group as the video he saw before, same little lewd costumes. Admittedly the girls are kinda cute. He can kinda understand the appeal. But he's not like those guys, he would never become like, obsessed with them.

The song is actually really catchy. The kind of mindlessly addictive, repetitive pop music that's the same four chords over and over, each song is so similar you can't really tell them apart, but it gets stuck in your head anyway. This group has... nine members. Who needs that many singers in one group? It's not like a band or anything, they all just sing and do their little choreography. Guess that's a form of talent, even though he doesn't really get it.

Some of the groups he sees in recommended videos are cute and wholesome, and while this group is cute too, there's a very... Blatantly intentional lewdness to their poses and costumes. A hypersexualized sort of cuteness. Clearly marketed at lonely losers who have nothing better to do with their time than obsess over a girl who will never even know they exist.

He taps another video.

So many compilations, yikes. He has to give the guys credit, they're insanely loyal to the individual member that they decide to fixate on. Oh, and they even make official figurines and posters for these girls, that's... Something.

And a few days later he can kinda recognize the girls. They have color themes, you know, identical costumes except each girl's is a different color. This lead one is red, this main backup is blue, etc etc. Lots of bright colors. Kinda hurts his eyes to be honest.

And he's seen compilations of every girl except... The pink one. The pink one is always kinda off to the side. Well, these groups do have their favoritism, there's apparently one or two lead singers in all of the major idol groups, and the rest are basically backups and dancers. Still, a lot of dudes get super devoted to the non-main girls. So yeah, he's never seen a compilation for the pink one... He can't always exactly remember which one is which but now he's seen enough to know the other girls' names. He's not sure what hers is though. So he googles it and gets the name.

Wonder why she doesn't have as many videos...? Oh, it's because she's the newest member. Only been around a few months. There's... A whole board dedicated to the group, which he's getting this information from. Wow, pathetic. What kind of person spends their free time browsing a forum for an idol group? Well, he's just doing it to find information, not for fun or anything. He was just curious. Now he knows and he can forget about it and never look at anything related to them again... after he types her name and group name into the YouTube search bar and checks the results out, that is.

Oh, so they do have some compilations for her, just not many. "(Name) thigh compilation." Fuck, these people have no limits to how creepy and pathetic they can get, he thinks... as he watches the video. Ok, admittedly there are some good thigh shots there. There's a comment. "At 4:26 you can see her panties." Pathetic. They're not wrong though. Just to be sure, you see, he tapped the timestamp, and you can, in fact, see them. Stripes. Cute.

But he still has to do his work. Can't get too invested in watching mindless videos all day. He's got a thesis to work on.

That makes him curious, though, he thinks as he goes about his research. Do these girls go to school? Do they like, skip college, or do they join some kind of performing arts school or...? So he googles it. He can remember the pink one's name now, so he just finds her Wikipedia page. Oh, so she joined right out of high school and has been in various groups ever since.

Wait, various groups? So she has more groups she's been in? What are those? Before he typed her name into the search along with the group name, but if he just searches her name he gets... A lot more content from earlier years. Huh. Didn't know some of them did group-hopping like that.

Still, no education. Must be all smiles and body and no brains. Guess that's all you really need. Yeah, looking at that whole act they do... All giggly and childish and lewd... She's probably not too bright. At least she's pretty and sings nice. And the thighs are rather good. Smooth looking. They have a sort of jiggle when she jumps up and down on stage. The thigh highs they make those girls wear have that nice little dip where the skin is compressed by the fabric. Like... right there at that closeup. He takes a screenshot.

It's readily available, he's already seen the video and knows the best parts, whereas searching for porn would take time. The sooner he can get the daily stress relief out of the way the sooner he can work on his thesis. So this way is faster. That's why he's jerking off to the thigh video and not taking the time to look for porn. Plus, it makes him cum faster. Which it probably shouldn't since it's just thighs, but... Probably has something to do with the tease of it all maybe. That makes sense.

Or maybe it's that cute little giggle he can hear at some parts. She smiles and jumps and spins and laughs.

...It makes him wonder what she'd look like crying. Scared. Whimpering. Covered in bruises and bite marks. The contrast between that state and the one on the screen. The process and the things he could do to get her from one to the other. Yeah, he realizes, it's that thought, rather than the happy giggling on video or tease aspect, that makes him cum.

He's aware that his... tastes... are a little on the fucked up side, but hey, there's plenty of bastards out there far worse than him.

One day he discovers she has social media platforms. He... Doesn't really have any. He doesn't have Twitter or Instagram or any of that but... He downloads the app and makes an account for each. Just to follow her. Ooh, they even have the option to get a notification every time she posts... That's good. Otherwise he might check too frequently. He sets a special sound effect for notifications for her socials. The first few times, you see, he would get super excited when his phone went off, only to be disappointed when it was just a work email. Thus, he made the separate sounds.

He wouldn't say he has a favorite, that sounds really cringey you know? He just... Likes her more than the others. ...Dammit, that's what a favorite is. Ok, maybe he has a favorite, that's not that bad. He's not obsessed. He hasn't bought any merchandise at all or anything, especially not member-specific merchandise. Which they do have, because he visited the store page for a while and spent all his willpower physically restraining himself from buying something. It's not that he's biased, he just thinks she's objectively better than the rest of the group. Which can be backed up with evidence, anyone with eyes could tell by watching the performances.

As to what specifically draws him to her... he's not certain, to be honest. Maybe it's because she's the least appreciated out of the group, new and all. The less popular one. Or maybe her personality... She seems so sweet, even though he knows it's probably just an act for the fans. Or maybe just those thighs. That's also a valid possibility.

He cracks and buys some of the merchandise. Only about $300 worth. But honestly, he gets more invested into just printing out pictures of you. Pasting them onto the wall above his desktop. It keeps him going when the nights are hard.

But he refrains from ever commenting on anything. Some of these losers are just... so embarrassing, he can't stomach the thought of being associated, even if it's just an anonymous comment online. It's still pretty... Distasteful. He still browses the boards every day. You're his lock screen now. And home screen. And also your solo is his ringtone. He only sets his phone on sound when he's alone at home, though, when he's at work he puts it on vibrate. He... doesn't want anyone hearing that. No offense. He has some appropriate amount of shame, unlike the other bastards.

And the girls probably know that most of their fans are these kind of loser men, right? She'd probably be surprised someone nearly graduating with a chemistry doctorate is sitting around watching these dumb videos. Is that more or less pathetic? He thinks less, hopefully.

In fact, the other fans kind of irritate him. They're really cringy and annoying and it gives him secondhand embarrassment. And something... Deeper. Something about seeing the comments upsets him on a visceral level. It's gross. Sure, he's grateful for the dudes who sit around and make a list of timestamps for upskirt shots and the like, but... It kinda bothers him, feeling like there's some other dude out there sitting around, watching these long videos with his gross eyes and recording the times of shots that get him off. It feels gross. But more like... A violation against you. Sure, your group is very blatantly sexualized and intentionally risque in clothing but... Still, it feels wrong for someone to go through and get to see all of that.

Well, someone else. It's ok for him, since he's not a gross degenerate like the rest of them. He does genuinely see himself as... Above them. You know how like, back in the day, how the nobles used to sit around and watch plays from the far back while the peasants gathered around the stage? It's like that. He's not a gross loser or a NEET or anything like that. He's got a life. Well... Not a social life, but he's doing better than them, at least he has a degree, and soon a higher degree, and a job. He has a lot of things they don't. Basic hygiene. Student loan debt. And uh... Well, he's probably more pleasant to interact with, at least he's not gonna be frothing at the mouth like an animal if he saw you in real life. He would certainly freeze up, but that's preferable, isn't it?

And one day there's a video circulating in the idol community - not that he's a part of it or anything, he just keeps getting the dumb videos and watching them for mindless entertainment - where some girl group had an attempted kidnapping. Not her group, but some other group. The video has gone viral. Some dude tried to rush the stage and pull one of the girls away. Apparently the cops found he had an obsession with her.

What an idiot. If you're gonna kidnap someone, put some effort in, jeez. It's not hard to figure out how to do it right.

If that were him, he wouldn't be that stupid, he'd just look for an interval where she's alone. They have those solo or breakout group songs where some of the girls are backstage, just get her then. Memorize the concert schedule, wear something over your face, chloroform her, and stuff her into something and walk right out. Easy.

....

He catches himself in the thought and realizes that might have been a bit creepy, but he was just thinking in terms of hypotheticals. If he was the kind of crazy to do that, that's what he'd do, that's all.

He's always enjoyed entertaining strategic thoughts, really. He's had a couple fantasies about how he would commit murders of this or that person before, and he's never murdered anyone, so thoughts don't lead to actions. He just... Really doesn't like those people, and the fantasies help him... Deal with it. He just likes to strategize about methods, and how he'd get away with it... Stuff like that. Actually, he's convinced it's a very normal thing, but no one wants to admit it. Everyone has detailed murder fantasies every now and then.

Which is why this is no different. He's just strategizing because it's fun. He has no intentions of doing anything for real. He just plans out the details like a game. And tells himself to just never think about it again.

Until one specific night that he's staring down at his screen. Lying in bed. He should be asleep, he needs to be up early tomorrow but... He's just checking to be sure he's reading this correctly. You're coming to his town? He wouldn't think so, since it's not too big, just your average college town. But still, you'll be right here, right in his general vicinity, not far away at all.

Not that he'd ever actually go to such an event. No way. He hates crowds with a passion. He hates loud environments even more. A concert is like his worst nightmare. Besides, knowing the general audience of your group, it'll be a bunch of sweaty NEET dudes who haven't showered in a month and haven't crawled out of their house in even longer. No thank you.

But.

That's when the thought pops back up. It's been a few months since that night he had that strategizing fantasy, and, well, he tried to forget it but... It kinda lingered in the back of his mind. And now it's back in full force.

He shrugs the idea off. It's crazy. He'd never actually do something like that. It was just a fantasy.

...But he could get away with it if he wanted to.

He's not scared or anything, no, he's confident in his strategizing. He knows he could. Totally. It's foolproof. There's no need to carry it out to know that, besides, what would he even do with you?

Well, he's pretty certain he does know what he would do with you. He's watched that thigh video maybe a hundred times now. And even if he won't admit it, he's jerked off to the exact same fantasy for like, several months.

He doesn't really... Think about it. Just kind of slips into subconscious actions. Autopilot. One click and well, there goes $400 on an amp case. His eyes gaze over the dimensions... And then there's your height on the Wikipedia page... Yeah... That should work. He gets it sent to the address a few doors down just in case, and snatches it from in front of their door, but he finds himself backpedaling. What the hell is he doing? He would never actually go through with this, what a waste of money... But he still opens it. Sets it beside his front door. Tests the wheels to make sure they work.

He knows how to make chloroform. He doesn't need YouTube tutorials (unlike a certain someone else), he knows exactly how to do it, even alternate methods besides the usual acetone and bleach combination - so long as you end up with the same chemical makeup, it's all the same. He just goes with the traditional way though... Doesn't really know why he does it. Just mutters as he stares down at the concoction wondering why he wasted his time... But he pauses before pouring it down the sink, and instead puts it in a container and keeps it on the counter. Your weight is on Wikipedia too. Taking into account your height and weight you would need about... Yeah, a very specific amount to knock you out for about three hours.

The concert day draws closer and closer and he can't sleep very well. His mind keeps running what-ifs. Just, hypothetically, what if he did go through with it? What then? What would he do long term? How would that all work out?

Well, you'd probably hate him for a while, right? But that changes. Stockholm syndrome sets in. He would know, he had to take Psych 101 back in undergrad, and the professor talked about it for a full 10 minutes, so he's basically an expert. It's been like, 7 years since then, but he still kinda remembers it. He remembers that it's supposed to set in at about 2 weeks, and solidify with time. If the captor is nice, that is, which he totally would be. ...Maybe not in bed, but most of the time. He would be nice to you, and you would start to like him. Besides, they said Stockholm syndrome set in faster if the abductor has good qualities, so, he could also reason with you, remind you that you're lucky you got abducted by someone with money - or, well, he will have money once he graduates! - and isn't some ugly gross slob. He's clean and neat. Sorta... He'll clean up all those dishes that have been sitting there a few days now, pick up all those clothes off the floor... Ok, now he's clean and neat. And, uh, what else would girls care about... He's smart. He's pretty sure he can say that with confidence, if nothing else.

Ok, so, it would work. He could... Keep you kinda... Tied up here... If you started complying within that two week period, he could get you up and walking before atrophy set in. You'd probably have to get used to the lifestyle... Right now he's kinda on a budget, but, he can get you things to keep you occupied... And so, yeah, it could work. It's simple, just keep you with him and isolated for a few weeks and uh, you'll transform into some kind of hypersexual obedient cumslut and never want to leave. That's... How Stockholm syndrome works right? Maybe he should have paid more attention in that class... Oh well. He never liked psychology.

So the day draws nearer and nearer and he starts really getting into the right... Headspace. It's a sort of manic state that he's in. Operating without really thinking, all inhibitions removed by simply refusing to think about it. He lets the subconscious take over and do all these little things to prepare, until finally that day is tomorrow. And then he kinda snaps back to full awareness and questions, again, what the hell is he doing? He can't just... Kidnap a person! Normal people don't do that... It's illegal, he'll get caught, it'll ruin his life and....

What life does he really have to ruin?

That's the thought that sort of solidifies the decision. He realizes why he's even on this path in the first place. Sure he's got a lot of academic accomplishments, but his life is... Rather empty. He doesn't really have anyone. Maybe that's why he's slowly become... Consumed by this obsession that yes, he's now willing to admit to himself is indeed an obsession. It's kinda slowly taken over his everyday life without him even noticing it was happening. He's... Kinda miserable. And very lonely. And... If nothing else... This one girl makes him feel kinda happy.

... Which is why he's going to go through with it.

And he slips back into autopilot, ends up standing outside the building. It's every bit as loud and headache-inducing as he knew it would be. Ugh. He can't wait to get out of here. If this doesn't work, well, he'll be forced to turn around. The plan is a very simple one, actually... Act like he's supposed to be there. And he does. Dresses in all black like stage technicians do, dragging his big amp case behind him, holding a bunch of cords from random things he grabbed in his house, and tries not to look nervous, keeps a neutral face and walks straight forward and... He slides right in. The security guards off to the side don't even bat an eye.

And then he has a moment of "well, I didn't expect to get this far." Pauses. So uh... what now? Well, probably should find you first. He memorized the setlist, so he knows when you'll be off... And alone. Right now there should be three of the girls backstage. It's pretty easy to find where you are, but he's paranoid that the amp case is too loud as he's dragging it around. It's necessary, though. And then, finally, he stumbles upon the room... Opens the door, half expecting to be immediately stopped, but... He can just kinda waltz right in here, some open backroom, a person here or there coming through, a lady that looks like a makeup artist doing something over there, and an actual, real tech guy over there... And over to the far back corner... Oh. That's you. He takes a moment to revel in the sight, unable to move or even breathe, and has to mentally prepare himself before moving forward. He's... Not sure exactly what to do at this point... It's kind of perfect, to be honest, there's no one around you, and you're right out of sight, where he could turn the corner and not be seen. But he's not sure how to... Approach? He thinks about it as he walks, but again, autopilot is on in his brain and he's just numbly walking forward. Does he just... Keep walking until he's right at you and just... Or...?

And a miracle happens. You hear someone coming and you turn and smile and ask are you the tech guy here to fix my mic? You point to the little microphone attached to your face. They told you someone would be coming to fix it before your next song. You presume that's him, since he's dressed in all black like all the other stage techs. He hesitates a moment, wide eyed, but then nods. Yeah, that's him, he says. His voice cracks when he says it. It's kinda cute.

You smile at him. It's wide and sweet and genuine and it almost makes him pass out on the spot. He has to swallow for a second before continuing.

But, uh, he can't do it right here he says, because fiddling with it could disrupt the uh, frequencies, cause that really shrill sound you hear sometimes. So, um, come over this way a sec, over in this dark corner of the studio conveniently out of the view of all people and security cameras. You don't know how any of that stuff works, so you trust him, it's his job after all. So you get up and straighten your little skirt out - wow those are even more revealing in person - and walk over it the dark corner where he's waiting and... it's the last thing you remember.

He does a quick look left and right to ensure no one saw you collapse in his arms, but sure enough, this area is empty. You fit into the amp case with ease. Just curl your body up and pop the lid on. Wait, can you... breathe in there? Well, it won't take long to get outside. He just rolls the case right out the door, right past the guards again, and no one stops him, no one suspects a thing. Puts the case in the backseat, opens the lid, does a quick check go make sure you're breathing alright. So he props it open by keeping a book in between the case and lid as he drives home.

Once he does get home, he just does the same thing he did before - close the lid, roll you into the elevator and up the stairs and into his place, looking back over his shoulder over and over. And once he gets you inside he just kinda... falls to his knees. Shivering. Disbelief. Because holy shit he actually did it. He actually went through with it and it worked. He sits there and stares at the case and - oh, fuck, gotta open it again for you to breathe. Actually, he might as well... take you out... when he first shoved you in, he was so high on adrenaline he didn't really process any of it, but now... he almost can't bring himself to take you out. That means he has to, like, touch you. He's gotta take a moment to mentally prepare for that. So he does. Deep breaths. And finally, with trembling hands, pulls you out, carries you on shakey legs over to the bed and sets you down.

You know, you're a lot... Smaller... Than you looked on screen. Sure, he knew your height and weight but... somehow you still seem so much smaller than he expected. That's good. Will make everything a lot easier, since you're easier to restrain. And your thighs. They're... so soft. This is so much better than the video. They're so... fleshy and warm in person. Perfect. And wow, that skirt thing is... scratchy. Actually, up close, that whole outfit thing you wear looks super uncomfortable. It probably is. ...Well, guess he now has a reason to take it off.

The rest of your skin is... also fleshy and soft. Warm. Your face... chest... stomach... everything. Your tits are really cute, too. It occurs to him that all those rabid commenters on all those boards and videos would probably kill to be him right now, pinching and squeezing at your nipples. He's seeing something they will never see. It gives him an ego boost, to be honest, makes him feel proud to get a sort of one-up on them. He gets you naked, but refrains from pulling your legs apart. He probably... wouldn't be able to control himself, and he's aiming for some self-control right now.

So he waits. Breathes deep. Restrains himself with every ounce of willpower he has. It occurs to him he has no fucking clue what he's gonna say to you. Unfortunately, that thought occurs to him as you're starting to twitch and mumble, so, he doesn't have too much time to think. Oh, fuck, you're not restrained... well, he bought some duct tape and handcuffs and blindfolds off of amazon too, so he quickly puts those in place as you're starting to wake up, and then finally, you come to full consciousness -- that telltale jerking at the restraints, the muffled little cry of confusion and fear. It's kinda hot to be honest. Well, fuck, very hot actually. You're so scared. It gives him a rush of power. Said rush goes straight to his dick.

He's got a mixed twist of guilt and arousal at the whole thing, but... he's still trying to have some self control... and if you start begging and pleading and crying, it would be too much. Oh, no, not that it would be too much in terms of guilt, no no, just that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from fucking you if he sees you cry. So he leaves the restraints on for now, so he can't see your face emote.

Then, he does something really, really mean. He knows it's cruel, honestly, it's just... so cute. What that is, is that he does nothing. Says nothing. He goes about his work, typing away, knowing you can hear, but doesn't say a word. He knows you're awake, he just wants to see how long you can sit there scared out of your mind before you finally make another noise to draw his attention. Right now, he thinks, you're probably debating, you're probably questioning whether you should keep quiet and make him think you're still out or make a noise... but eventually you will. He can see you trembling. You're probably thinking so many horrible things right now, wondering what will happen, what he'll do to you... it fills him with a sort of sadistic glee that overrides the guilt it comes along with. Sure, the guilt is there, but fuck, he could almost cum just watching you shiver, and that's more important.

And you finally make a noise. A little whimper. He stops typing, and swears he sees you tense when he does. And when he stands up, walks over to you (making sure to stomp hard and walk slow for extra effect, watching the way you curl in on yourself with each step he takes), and stops right in front of you. Finally, tells you not to scream. He's gonna give you water, ok? You nod. And, surprisingly, you don't make any move to scream or anything, you let him give it to you. You don't move a muscle besides your shaking and sucking the straw and swallowing the water. You must be really scared of him. He knows that's technically not what he should want, but... it feels nice.

He spent that time of silence coming up with what to say to you. He says that for now, you're going to stay right here. Don't ask questions. Don't make any attempt to escape. If you really need something, tap the headboard until he hears. Understand?

You're... Surprisingly receptive. You give a twitchy smile and stammer out an o-okay. He's almost pleased, but quickly realizes what you're doing.

You've been trained for this, you see. This kind of thing is attempted rather frequently in the industry. You received training for this situation - comply, don't fight, prioritize your safety, because in 99% of these cases, the missing idol is found and recovered within 48 hours. So you do what you were told to do -- smile, pretend you're ok with it, don't do anything to anger your captor.

He knows that too. He doesn't do much in that 48 hours, in fact, he even tells you he's waiting to "see what happens." He knows he can't control himself very well, so he stays in his living room for the most part and works on research, it might be pointless if he's in jail a few hours from now, but oh well. Sleeps on his couch. He offers to feed you, but you say you don't feel good. He understands.

See, in his mind, if he gets to fuck you once or twice and then be hauled off to prison and never touch you again, well, that would be actual, literal torture, so much so that never fucking you at all would be more bearable. So that's why he forces himself to wait now. He feels like he can't breathe, he's so nervous, like any moment police are going to come knocking on his door. Every little sound makes him jump. He can't sleep.

But 48 hours pass and... nothing happens.

He breathes a bit easier. Finally dares to go online, which he's been avoiding, and check on your situation... Oh, wow, social media has exploded over your disappearance. But... They have no leads. Nothing. Says she basically vanished out of thin air. Situation is, quote, "looking hopeless." Huh. He did an even better job than he thought he did. There's videos from loved ones begging the captor to let the girl go, offering to give him money even. A lot of money. But, you're more valuable than any monetary measurements could ever conceive. And he's happy. It really worked out. Everything went right, and for once, he has something that really, really makes him happy.

Likewise, the 48 hours are even more torturous for you. You start out telling yourself it'll be fine. Hopeful. But that hope in your chest slowly, gradually dies out as you realize you've hit the 48-hour mark. Even for a normal missing person, you've always heard that if they don't find them within 48 hours... the chances of ever finding them goes down significantly. But, that's because they're usually dead, right? And this guy won't kill you, so, your chances are better, right...?

He comes back after that 48 hours and finally, for the first time since you woke up, crawls onto the bed, touches you, grabs your hips with his hands. Tells you that, well, they haven't found anything yet and it looks like they aren't going to, so you're officially his now, and he's no longer worried. You should accept it. It'll make things easier for both of you if you do. You'll get adjusted in no time, you'll see.

Unsurprisingly, you're a bit less compliant than you were when you had hope. You whimper and and struggle, but it's really weak. So much so it's cute. You ask who he is. No one important, he says. Just... A fan of yours. You can hear clothes shuffling. He doesn't waste time, he's already waited two whole days suffering, so he gets his dick in you pretty quickly. Manages to make you cum. It horrifies you and kinda surprises him too to be honest. You must kinda like pain, huh. Well, that works out well.

As time goes on, what hope you had left dies completely. Weeks pass. You realize they're not coming for you. In an attempt to get you to accept it, he even shows you that you've been replaced. They're rather quick to fix the absence. They have a new girl in your spot by the end of the month. He quickly realizes maybe he shouldn't have told you, from the way your face falls and you get all hysterical. Sorry. It's the way the industry is. Don't worry. She's not even half as cute as you.

He shows you the announcement when they close the investigation, too. This also earns a rather hysterical response, but he thinks it's important you see it, so you can finally come to terms with your fate, the way things were always meant to turn out. He gets a bit frustrated. Just accept it. It's not that hard. The sooner you do, the happier you'll be. It's for your own good that you accept it.

And you do. Try as you might. You begin to make conversation. He's the only source of interaction you have. You learn about him and his life. You become invested in it. You start to cum more easily. When he's sitting on the opposite side of the bed typing away, you find yourself slowly wiggling your way over and pressing yourself against the warmth, and he certainly doesn't mind. You ask him about his research just to hear a voice talk.

And sometimes you sing. It's absent minded, soft and quiet, when you have nothing else to do. He likes that a lot. You get sweeter. Nicer. Fight less. It does take a bit longer than two weeks to set in fully. But it does in the end.

He can't be with you 24/7, as much as he would like to be, so sometimes he has to tell you to just hang on a little while. Be good and sit still for just a bit. He'll be back soon. Just give him an hour. You're just really distracting and, well, his progress report is due tomorrow morning.

And you keep getting upset over the new member, bring it up a lot... It must have really bothered you, huh. Well, don't feel bad about being replaced. To him, nothing could ever replace you... you're still his favorite.

#.al #.idol

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 11

A/N: bit of a shorter chapter this time, so i was able to get it out quicker! scott pov again :)

Warnings: injury, fever, unconsciousness, mild amnesia, corruption/infection, self-blame, self-worth issues, talk of death

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

Scott drifted in and out of consciousness, unsure of what was happening. He didn’t even register where he was at first, just heard faint but familiar voices. Then he was being lifted up, his head gently tucked into the crook of someone’s neck, and someone else’s delicate touch supporting his wings. Then some innumerable amount of darkness later, and he registered laying on something soft before there was a hand on his arm and a yelp. The yelp had sounded like Gem- had he made it to her empire? More murmuring voices, and Scott drifted out again.

The next time he drifted towards a more semi-conscious state, he was instantly filled with relief. He hadn’t really realized how warm he felt until something cool was placed on his forehead. If Scott had the energy to, he would have let out a grateful sigh. Then a hand gently ran through his hair, and Scott just about melted- in a good way this time, instead of the fever-warm kind. He must have made some sort of reaction, because he heard a half amused, half relieved chuckle from above him.

“I think the compress is helping,” the owner of the chuckle said- voice so devastatingly familiar but Scott’s brain was too fever-addled to remember who it belonged to. Inexplicably it made him think of slimeballs and glimmering scales, but he didn’t have the slightest idea why.

“Or playing with someone’s hair is the cure for corruption,” another voice teased. There was an indignant reply, a laugh from the second voice- but Scott sank into darkness again before he could decipher who either of the voices were.

Scott was shivering the next time he came to some semblance of awareness. Something soft was pulled over him, and whatever was put on his forehead before was adjusted. The hand in his hair was gone though, and he managed to make a distressed sound at that. There was a soft murmur, some comforting words that Scott couldn’t quite make out, but then there was a hand in his hair again and Scott sighed in relief. He managed to blearily blink his eyes open, and met the gaze of a pair of soft brown eyes wide with surprise and concern. The owner of the eyes had a mess of blond hair on his head, and somehow that felt wrong to Scott. The eyes he knew, but the hair… he felt like it was something he shouldn’t be seeing. But at the same time he felt he had seen it before, on a night with shimmering bronze details, dancing, and betrayal. But Scott couldn’t place why he remembered those things when looking up at the person gazing down at him.

“Easy, you’re alright. Let’s try and get some water in you, maybe a health potion too,” the devastatingly familiar man said. He shifted away from Scott, causing a distressed sound to leave his lips. The man chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Just gonna help you sit up a bit,” he murmured, doing just so and letting Scott lean on him when he couldn’t stay upright by himself. His wings reflexively stretched out, and Scott let out a relieved sound at the ache in his wings lessening slightly. An amused giggle came from somewhere on Scott’s other side.

“Guess we should probably make sure he’s not resting on his wings too much, huh?” the owner of the giggle said in a teasing tone. That got a semi-flustered nervous chuckle from the man holding him, who had started to gently prod Scott out from where he had been tucked into the crook of his neck. Scott made a displeased sound, trying to nuzzle into the man’s hold further. Another giggle sounded.

“Gem, stop laughing at me and help, he’s being clingy,” the man pouted. Wait- Gem? Scott knew that name. Why did he know that name?

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Jimmy,” the other voice- Gem, apparently, teased back. The name Jimmy definitely sounded familiar, it sparked butterflies in Scott’s stomach and reminded him of teasing banter and cocky smiles. The man- Jimmy- sighed and finally got Scott out from his hiding place in the space where Jimmy’s neck and shoulder met. His head was tilted back, and something cool was pressed to his lips. He eagerly drank down the water, earning him a gently reprimanding “slow down” from Jimmy. But soon the water was gone, and despite it helping him feel much better than before, Scott found himself incredibly drained of energy as he slumped back against Jimmy. He made a distressed sound as he felt darkness tugging at him again.

“It’s alright, you can rest. I’ll be right here, I promise. I won’t let you go, ever again,” Jimmy said with gentle determination. He wasn’t sure why, but Scott felt relieved at the assurance. His eyes slipped shut, and he dimly registered a hand smoothing out his feathers as he let the darkness claim him once more.

Scott’s next semi-coherent moment was one full of pain. It felt like there was fire spreading out from his forearm, all the way up to his shoulder and down to his fingertips. There was something pulsing and squirming beneath his skin too, in tandem with the pain in his arm. He let out a choked scream when someone touched his arm, the pain intensifying so much that Scott felt like he could barely breathe. Someone took his other hand, and there was a hand gently running through his hair. Scott relaxed ever so slightly at the familiar reassuring touches, even as tears of pain started streaming down his face.

“It’s okay, breathe Scott, you’ll be alright. Squeeze my hand if you need to, it’ll be okay. I’m here, I promised you I’d be right here, remember?” a voice said- and Scott wanted to remember. He wanted to remember this person’s reassurances, wanted to remember why this person’s voice inexplicably meant so much to him- but all Scott could do was scream as the pain intensified again.

“We have to stop, this is only hurting him,” another voice said, cool and collected with an undertone of worry. The pain stopped, and Scott sobbed in relief, his hand loosening the tight grip on the other person’s hand- when had he started clutching at him so tightly? His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his already blurry vision darkening at the edges.

“You’re alright, sorry about that, we thought maybe that would work. We’ll figure something out, I promise,” the first voice said, running a hand through his hair. Scott wanted to ask how this person was so confident that everything would be okay, but he passed out again before he got the chance.

The last time Scott woke up, he thought he was dead. This was the most coherent he had been in a while, but despite that, he somehow saw Jimmy sitting beside him, eyes closed with his cod head nowhere to be seen and a hand loosely clasped over Scott’s. Surely this had to be a dream, or some sort of bizarre afterlife where he saw visions of Jimmy actually caring about him. All those hazy memories from before, of someone Scott now definitely knew was Jimmy soothing him and reassuring him? That couldn't have been real. Why would it be? Scott had betrayed Jimmy. He shouldn't want anything to do with Scott… but that didn't mean Scott didn't want to enjoy the fantasy while it lasted.

Jimmy suddenly stirred beside Scott, hand gripping his own a bit tighter and causing his heart to flutter. Soft brown eyes blinked open, hazy for a moment before they registered Scott staring right back. An elated, relieved grin came over Jimmy’s face, and Scott really must have been dead or dreaming to earn a look like that. No way that the real Jimmy would care about him that much after everything that Scott had done.

"How are you feeling?" Jimmy asked softly, and Scott could only blink in confusion.

"Am I dead?" Scott blurted, voice hoarse from such little use. Jimmy let out a nervous chuckle at the outburst, shaking his head fondly.

"It was admittedly looking pretty bad… it's still not looking great if I'm honest- but your fever's finally gone down. So you're alive," Jimmy gently explained. Interesting. So maybe this was a fever dream then? But if this was real, and Scott really was going to be okay… he had so much he needed to say to Jimmy. He needed to explain himself, properly apologize for what he had done. He had to take this chance, even if it wasn't real so that Scott could at least finally live with himself- if he was even going to live at all.

"Jimmy-" Scott started, but was cut off with a choked gasp as pain suddenly flared in his arm, shooting all the way up to the top of his spine. It felt like there was something clawing inside him, trying to latch onto him and pull. He was suddenly gasping for breath, hands clutching at the sheets and at Jimmy’s hand.

"Scott? What's wrong, I'm here- Gem!" Jimmy called, standing up but still tightly holding Scott’s hand as he leaned over him with a worried expression. Scott was shaking now, trying to hold back whatever the hell it was clawing up towards his head. Tears sprung to his eyes as he gasped and shuddered, a death grip on Jimmy’s hand.

"I'm sorry," he managed to gasp through the pain. "Sorry" didn't even begin to cover it, there was so much more that Scott wanted to say- but the whatever it was suddenly latched onto Scott’s mind, like claws digging into his skull and forcefully pulled. His body seized one last time with a cry before going limp, his hand loosening his hold on Jimmy’s as well, and his eyes fluttered shut.

And then Scott saw nothing but red.

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jiminrings · 3 years

Note

umm maybe this is me projecting bc i am messaging you during my break but for a drabble request, yoongi in a retail setting???? 😐😐😐😐 oc could either be a co-worker or a regular customer who asks too many questions 😔😌

retail-type beat

drabble week: day three

drabble week masterlist

pairing: customer!yoongi x retail worker!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second. anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

the last time you checked, work doesn’t start until nine

you kNEW it doesn’t start until 9 in the morning, so clearly that’s why you’re just wearing slides instead of your sneakers

the company uniform is either black or purple (it has to be from what the store is selling though so you can get to choose) with of course!!!! a lanyard!!!!

and you know this, because you’re still wearing your slides from home because it isn’t opening time yet

“goddamn it, i forgot to bring my slippers,” jin moans the moment he walks to see you, looking down on your feet that only reminds him he’d be stuck in his cool yet painfully uncomfy sneakers

he’s probably the only co-worker that you’re truly close with, not feeling the urge to sell him just to get a free day

“i told you to get the sneakers that nurses use!!”

hands-down one of the best purchases you’ve ever made

retail’s hard and it’s not exactly the best-paying job!!! thankfully the franchise owner is a bit more generous so that’s why you get slightly-higher hourly pay

“i would if they looked a little more seasoned,” jin snorts and stubbornly crosses his arms, “i might sacrifice my pride and buy some compression socks.”

OOOOOH THOSE ARE GOOD TOO

makes you feel like ur walking on air

but lol no seokjin isn’t ready to buy those just yet

he’ll settle on some blisters and putting salonpas patches because they look cooler that way, thank u very much <3

jin yawns, talking about finding a steam iron somewhere to replace a blowdryer so he could break in his shoes

“you wipe the glass this time.”

oh right he absolutely hates wiping down the glass — even before opening!!! even when there aren’t any grubby kids that would soil it instantly with their equally as grubby hands

you don’t mind it honestly

you might honestly like it

you prefer wiping the glass a hundred times over than steaming clothes

there is nOT a single thought in your head when you spray on the solution to the glass, rag and squeegee tucked between your fingers when-

maybe you should’ve hOLY FUCKING SHIT

it’s not opening!!!! it is nOT nine o’clock in the morning!!!!

you know that the shop you’re working in is pretty fucking famous and it’s located on one of the most populated streets ever BUT THERE’S ALREADY SOMEONE

although the bucket hat seems familiar from a distance and-

oh it’s just yoongi

yoongi?

yoongi’s already here????

yoongi, the guy in question, is an always customer!!

no, not a regular customer — an always customer

he comes every week and maybe even twice within that period

he’s a nice talkative customer who likes asking questions and even occasionally guides the other customers on what to buy and where to find it

he’s yoongi!!! of course that’s expected of him

he’s been going here long since you ever started working here, and jin keeps iNSISTING that he’s been here more frequently since you started like a year ago

but doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?

“woah, yoongi’s already here? — doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?”

?!!?!!

“i was just thinking the exact same thing.”

jin bangs the glass with his fist and you automatically wince and frown

you dO like cleaning the glass panes!! you didn’t say you liked cleaning them a second time :(

“YOONGI!”

“YES??”

you push jin’s fist away to wipe at the smudge his hand left

“IT’S NOT OPENING YET!”

“I KNOW!!”

wow they’re uh

they’re really loud

sometimes you forget how seokjin could be since it’s been awhile since you heard him yell

lol no one’s been shoplifting recently so you haven’t been hearing him

a mind-blowing idea is for jin to come outside and talk to him in a normal talking voice, so your ears would stop ringing

“HEY! WHAT IF YOU JUST ENTER EARLY IN?”

“REALLY? IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED??”

"YOONGI, EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR KNOWS YOUR NAME. NAMJOON EVEN GAVE YOU A CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFT, AND WE DON'T GIVE CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFTS TO ANY OTHER CUSTOMER!!"

namjoon, who technically should be called mr. kim because no one really thinks to call the franchise owner with their government first name, is actually pretty cool

but he's too busy these days and haven't been visiting because he's too busy tending to his newly-opened coffee shop

as if the money he earns from opening his franchise in a day alone isn’t enough :0

"IF YOU SAY SO?"

you’re the one who hikes up the roll-up door in the slightest, enough for only yoongi to enter and not encourage anyone else to nOT enter when it’s still not opening time!!!!

he only has to crouch a little but he still has to dust his thousand-dollar pants as if he crawled through mud

his cream-colored slacks with a large black hoodie that has a giant bear embroidered on the middle of it and mules

... you don't hate his outfits

pretty cute, actually

it's yoongi!!

you'd never catch him lacking!!!

you don't even have to envision him rocking the shit out a paper bag

one time, he came in the store wearing the WRINKLIEST brown linen jumpsuit that no iron could possibly fix and he still pulled it off

toon-teen-ten!

oh god that’s the sound of the intercom

and the sound of the intercom equates to jungkook

... as in jeon jungkook who’s the floor manager and his constant top one goal for every month is to endearingly annoy seokjin

he’s young and mischievous!! but if you were to ask him, only you and jungkook are the people in this floor he’d actually get drinks with outside the shop

“seokjin come to the lingerie department right now, please.”

you see the thing is :D

“now this is just funny

there’s walkie-talkies for everyone here!! jungkook likes intercoms, and seokjin like yelling!!

“WHY ME AGAIN?? I’VE ALREADY FOLDED-“

“there’s a literal rat and i need yOU to catch it!! you know that i hate rodents!!”

him and jungkook are forever gonna be on this eldest-youngest brother dynamic and while jungkook pouts and shared the extras that he gets, jin is the one who kills the bugs :D

10/10 totally fair

fine then!! he’ll catch that goddamn rat

that leaves you and yoongi. alone.

“why did you come so early this time?”

you ask out of courtesy, genuinely baffled too because you know that yoongi’s a creature of habit

yoongi’s eyes pop out, head fervently shaking no

“i’m typically not the type to do that, no.”

???

is he-

are you-

are you both talking about the same thing

yoongi’s face flushes in embarrassment, his mind just then registering what you were actually saying

“o-oh! it’s because last night, i dreamt of the sweater i saw here last week!!"

oh right

typical :D

"need me to find it for you or do you already know the aisle?"

you align the folded shirts by the corners as you pass, looking at yoongi briefly while he trails behind yoh

“not unless you pulled it out already."

he's hoping that dear god you haven't

the black sweater with the moon aND buildings on it and when you turn on the flash, the windows of said building reflect it right back???

he SHUDDERS just by thinking about it

it’s gonna go with everything!!! an instant boost of serotonin every time he sees it

"for you, yoongi?" you shake your head, a small smile on your face that he only sees every once in a while, "i'd comb through the entire stock room."

wait

that’s sweet :((

“i’ll hold you to that.”

you know what??? you're less cranky when it's only him, and a couple of hundred people less

your smiles aren't for customer-service and you don't have misplaced clothes hanging from your shoulders and your walkie-talkie isn't talking in latin

or when no one’s asking you to reach something from the top shelf

or when you’re on the way to the intercom because a kid got separated from their mother

or when someone’s approaching for a refund for a shirt who has a stain that’s 100% no doubt customer error

his feet immediately move on its own because he’s memorized the outline of this too many times

there it is!!!

the sweater he’s dreamt about is already on his hands, only a handful few left

the piece is considerably more expensive than majority of the items here, so that’s why they’re all spaced-out instead of being clustered altogether

yoongi rarely goes to the dressing room, regardless if it's a full-house or not!!

he could just look at an item and immediately tell that it’s made for him ta know

he's beyond sure that this sweater fits him perfectly, but he may want to be here a little longer

yoongi may have say inside one of the fitting rooms and spent a little time in it just to sit on the chair inside, not fitting the sweater at all

he's gotten his item SO quick and he wished he could've just walked slower or pretended to not know where it was!!!

he wants to spend a little more time here

you don't hate yoongi!!! but sometimes he could just be... yoongi

he's quite talkative and strikes it whenever, making you unguarded

he could be overbearing but like an overbearing kind of nice

yoongi’s nice!! he’s the type to ask a lot of questions sure, but he’s also the type that would point the other customers what to buy and where to find it

he’s the type to find an obvious faulty stitch on a shirt, but he’d just quietly exchange it instead of asking for the manager

he’s the type you wouldn’t want to stand behind in line because it would take a long time for him to finish, but he’s also the same one who buys giftcards with generous amounts for family and friends

yoongi’s kind of cool and that’s cemented on your mind

"what do you got for me?"

he materializes out of nowhere, spooked because you thought he already ringed up and was out of the store already

it just happens to be ten minutes before opening and you’re doing last-minute arrangements on a new spread

well, yoongi most certainly is still here and his attention’s piqued

“we have... a new collection."

you clear your theory, awkwardly gesturing because you’re more than aware that yoongi hasn’t seen this either

“yeah, i know that. but like, what's going on??" he gestures to the displays and racks, squinting his eyes, "what's the theme? what's the material?"

uhm you haven't read the brief about this

you aren't even sURE if there is one!!

doesn't everyone make up something on the spot in retail

or atleast that’s what seokjin tells you

“the theme," you clear your throat, scratching your temple before gesturing towards the full rack, "is everything."

“everything?

yoongi’s eyebrow is raised, not expecting that answer at all

you look back to the new feature, and nOW that you think about it,, there's no cohesion at all

“y-yes. the shop was going for the theme of uhm, everything... all at once — yeah, that's it. everything all at once."

it’s a nice way to put it when not one bit of the new collection goes together

“hmmmm. i like it,” yoongi nods solemnly and tilts his head, “and the material?"

"the material?"

you repeat, eyesight not the best so you can’t really tell anything off the bat or uh aNYTHING really

"t-the material is shirt."

they're all shirts!!! that’s it

yoongi grimaces in disgust, the first time you’ve seen of it

“what?? you can't say that.”

he outsretches his hand to the nearest article, holding it up by the hanger

"this, right here, is satin. see how it shines like silk, but doesn't feel like silk?"

uhm yes

you have a gist of what he’s saying but yes

yoongi picks up a pink button shirt this time, flipping it inside out

"this, is silk charmeuse. look at the inside, is it smooth?"

okay where is he going with this

he urges you to put your hand on the fabric and uhhh you didn't sign up for this???

it looks smooth, sure!! end of discussion

"yea-..."

“it's not. it's rough. it is smooth, but it's dull. silk charmeuse is still silk, but the backing it has is different from the lustrous part."

okay yoongi

you’re starting to feel uncomfortable and it has to do something with the tone he’s using on you

“can't believe you didn't know that!! how about this," he plucks out a shirt with a tiny print at the middle of it, "cotton or polyester and rayon?"

"i don't-"

there’s an itch in your neck that you want to scratch, a tell-tale sign that you just wANT to remove yourself from this situation

“come on!! it's a dead giveaway!!"

:((

why is he being like this?

toon-teen-ten!

“y/n, panty section please. jin almost got bit by a mouse and he needs comforting. two minutes until opening, people!!"

jungkook speaks at the right moment, and jin’s little incident is enough of a reason for you to bolt

yoongi's still looking at you but you can't afford to embarrass yourself further

“bye. happy shopping."

huh?

yoongi’s face falls when you leave as cold as that!! typically when you were going to show him out (when it’s regular shop hours), there’d be a smile :((

there's not even a customer service smile :(((

yoongi goes to the only cashier that's open so far and it happens to be far away from you and a teary seokjin

seokjin's fine he didn't even get bit!! that much he could say

but are you okay? uhhh you kinda went cold on him by the end and he thought he started on a good note

yoongi doesn't visit for another week and you don't find yourself counting the days until you meet him again

you did not have a devil wears prada moment where anne hathaway has an epiphany for fashion knowledge

you just felt belittled at a job that isn’t exactly what you wanted anyways

needed, yes. but wanted? not exactly

you know that basic knowledge about clothes is required in a retail job like this and you have it!! you do!!!!

you’d know more if only there were actual available resources for employees to know!!! nobody besides yoongi asks anyways

you’d know if you have time to yourself and aren’t working two jobs trying to make ends meet and tHEN you could pull up a book or something!!!

you’d know if your life is as lax as yoongi’s and could have the budget to buy new things for yourself every single week

“jin, i need to ask you something.”

he hums as called, looking at you briefly until you get on with it

“do you know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse?"

he shrugs casually while you're sitting inside one of the closed-off fitting rooms to catch a break, sharing a burger because the store’s packed-packed

why did you ask him? it’s too easy

“one's made by worms, and the other's a pokémon."

that,.,., could not possibly be righti* it brings you a laugh and you honestly don’t even try to correct him

it’s 11:15 and you kNOW it’s time to resume your shift, straightening your shirt because atleast one (1) person would hound you when they see a familiar red lanyard

oh you’re hounded alright

“hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second.”

yoongi????

you haven’t seen him for a week and you don’t know what to feel in all honesty

"anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"

wow

you're quite speechless as he holds up the item

really?

this thing all over again???

why are you even surprised

the only thing that yoongi gets your customer service smile, fishing your hand from inside the sweater to show him

“70% wool."

that's it???

NO GOOD MORNING????

you're mad at him, aren't you?

he knew it :((

he knew something was wrong but he just didn’t know what

he’s gonna fix this!! he will

which is why the very next day, he takes the day off from his work and comes to the store at a time he knows you’d surely be there

you're on cashier duty and you like it actually :D

you have an option to sit and the way you’re just gonna scan pricetags (and occasionally enter the code if it doesn’t work) is really appealing

“good morning!"

you’re about to grab the items from the basket laid on the counter and your eyes could only see the very familiar hand

the same one you’ve seen go through racks and racks

yoongi??

he sets his items one by one, buying himself more time

the first one is the same exact sweater he came to wait for before opening

“you already bought this."

you tell him even before you could hold it back, looking back at him briefly before you scan the tag

“i know. i just wanted to see you."

yoongi threw a bunch of other items (individually) so it would be a longer talk, but you scan each item quickly that he’s grabbing things from the counter

hand sanitizer!!! hair ties!!! keychains!!!! yeah he needs them

“i'm sorry that i tend to spring shit on you most of the time. you don't need to know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse."

you only chuckle then, a meek smile on your face

"it's okay, yoongi.”

“it's not."

... it’s not?

yoongi fidgets, opening and closing his mouth like he’s nervous!!! he’s never had his credit card cancelled but he could only feel that this type of jitterness is more than the former

“can i make it up to you? no lanyards, no baskets, no customer service?? i don't wanna fuck things up with you."

“don't feel obligated-"

“i know i could be a condescending ass who expects people to automatically know fabric and whatnot, but i wanna make it up to you."

alright yoongi’s a really good apology-maker

you mIGHT be even flustered a little

“you're holding the line, yoongi.”

“i cleared my schedule."

“i haven’t!!!!!” - guy in the back

“dinner at my place at 8. i-i promise to make your hard-earned break after your shift worthwhile!!!"

hmmm

maybe that wouldn’t hurt

“okay. just because you're holding the line."

“fine by me."

:))

yoongi transfers all the items he bought, all but one, to his tote bag

he hands back the paper bag to you, scribbling his address on the back of the receipt before he does

he lingers a little while at the counter, the people behind him ALREADY switching lanes to the one seokjin’s just opened beside you

it's the sweater that he has too

yoongi scratches the back of his head, this time being the meek one

“what? m-matching sweaters for our first date. s'cute."

#drabble week #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #min yoongi imagines #yoongi oneshots #yoongi oneshot #yoongi drabble #yoongi drabbles #yoongi au #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi oneshot #min yoongi scenarios #yoongi headcanon #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst

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devil-in-those-eyes · 4 years

Text

Temper- Mat Barzal

Hi, guys! Okay, so it isn’t what I had in mind, but i’m hoping you guys like it and maybe even want a part two? But, anyways!

** Gif creds to @miroheyskanen !

Athletes could get really testy, they all had some sort of angry streak when it came to losing. They had problems with losing because they were all insanely competitive, it was exceptionally hard when it was a significantly bad loss.

You were pretty new to this team, only been assigned to the Islanders for a few months now after being switched from the Rangers, but you were pretty sure you had never seen athletes talk to you the way Mat Barzal just snapped at you.

The whole thing kind of came out of left field, like a bitch slap and made your head spin. It made you confused for two reasons. The first because all you did was ask if Mat felt like the loss had to do with them going from playing a game a little over twenty four hours ago to playing Tampa, while Tampa had a few days off to recover. You figured Mat would be testy anyways, I mean he slammed his hockey stick into the glass multiple times before breaking it, but the way he snapped at you was over the top.

Second reason was because you and Mat had become more than the typical athlete journalist relationship, if you’d even call it that. You had gotten to the point of having personal conversations, he stopped you outside of the locker room and walked you to your car. He even asked you to come out for drinks with him and Anthony, but after this, it kind of seemed stupid.

You knew forming relationships with athletes was like a huge no-no. The sports world for journalism was mainly men and you had proved yourself and worked up the ladder, getting to the Rangers and now the Islanders. You never wanted to be one of those girls ruled by your emotions in all aspects of life, and your job was the one place where you could kick ass and show the men that you could compete with them.

Except now, you felt like a moron. Wounded by Mat’s words laced with anger, your jaw clenched and eyes narrowed at him. Embarrassment flooded you and you tried to keep your cheeks from filling with a rosy color as you realized everyone else heard the tone because all the reporters fell silent and slowly looked at you.

Mat called on a different reporter and he stumbled over his words, struggling to sound like he hadn’t heard it while you looked to your left to find the eyes of Anthony, who stood with his captain, Anders Lee, while both of them watched you. Their eyes were wide, eyebrows lifted and the conversation paused.

Okay, so it wasn’t just in your head.

You managed to take notes through your annoyance, getting just barely enough to write your column tomorrow, and walked away from Mat without another glance.

“Someone was angry, wasn’t he?” A man whispered to you as you walked out of the locker room.

You hummed, not offering anything more. The other journalists walked away while you felt your phone vibrate in your purse. For a few fleeting milliseconds, while you reached in your purse to grab your phone, you wondered if it was Mat texting you but you scoffed at yourself and pulled your phone out.

It was just your best friend, wondering what time you’d be home and if you wanted to order some late night dinner while you worked on your article and sent it in to work. You texted her, saying you’d be home soon and to order whatever.

“Y/N, wait up.” Anthony appeared out of the locker room, you turned to see him jogging towards you in just his compression shorts and a clean shirt.

“Hey,” you breathed through a smile. “Great game, Tito.”

“He’s just angry,” Anthony blurted out, nodding his head at a teammate that passed you guys.

You wanted to forget it even happened, you just wanted to get back to your job where athletes were just that, not friends. So, your eyebrows pulled together, ready to play coy but Anthony licked his bottom lip.

“Barzy, he’s just angry. I mean, we all are. We thought we were prepared and we just got our asses handed to us,” Anthony cut you off from saying anything. He grimaced, “don’t take it personally, okay?”

Anthony was sweet, a total dork and could make you smile without even really trying and you knew he was just trying to keep the waters calm. Your phone buzzed in your hands, reminding you that your best friend was waiting at home for you, so you touched his arm and squeezed it.

“Great game, Tito. See you next game.” You smiled.

“We’re gonna go for drinks after the next game,” Anthony said, trying to keep you there. You weren’t sure why because you both knew Mat wouldn’t be talking to you any time soon, not that you really felt like talking to him either. “I know Mat asked you to come, I just wanna make sure you’re gonna come.”

“I don’t know,” you said, stepping away from him and waving your phone. “I gotta head out.”

Anthony’s shoulders sagged, “Alright, Bye, Y/N.”

By the time you got home, you had sit and stewed in your annoyance and felt it grow into more of a type of anger. You never asked Mat, or Anthony, for special treatment. You never talked their performance or games outside of the post game interviews, so why did Mat have to snap at you? It was a simple question, basically asking if them being exhausted from their prior series against the Canucks had anything to do with it. Jesus, it was a yes or no question.

You got your article done with a glass of wine and take out. It was published the next morning and you went to work forgetting about how Mat looked at you like you were just an annoying journalist who was wasting his time, until your friend sent you a video of said postgame interview.

Good. GOD. Moody, much?

You thumbs upped her message and went on with your day.

When your day ended, you were surprised to see text messages from Anthony and Mat. Anthony asked if you wanted to grab coffee tomorrow morning after his morning skate, while Mat asked if you wanted to come over for a movie night with him and Anthony.

Huh, must be over his temper tantrum.

You left him on read and told Anthony you might be able to slip out of work for an hour.

You figured it was best if you went back to just being the journalist for your company, maybe everyone was right when they told you to not form personal relationships. You squashed those butterflies that you used to get whenever Mat smiled at you, or texted you a funny meme, or a snapchat you got when he went to your favorite café. You didn’t want to think about how you started fantasizing about him as more than an athlete because then that implied you got feelings when you promised yourself it wouldn’t happen.

By the end of the game the next night, the boys had recovered and seemed to be in better spirits as you stood in the locker room. They had just come off of 2 goal lead and the locker room was bursting with smiles, congratulatory hand shakes and laughs.

Tonight, you decided to be apart of Anthony’s interview, who continually cracked jokes and seemed be unfocused on the interview. As you asked Anthony a question, you could help the burning in the back of your head, the feeling like someone was watching you, so after you finished recording Anthony’s answer you turned your head to see Mat’s eyes.

Mat had his own group of reporters asking him questions, but when you finally looked at him, he smiled gently, like he always did when he was trying to be polite inside the locker room and not let on that secretly, you were his favorite.

Mat would never admit it to you, because it had taken you this long to agree to even meeting him and Anthony for a late night drink, but he always looked forward to post-games just because he got to stare at you. You always looked pretty in your favorite jeans and shirt, hair either pulled back and off your face or falling naturally and tucked back behind your ears. His hand always itched to push the strands off of your neck, always wishing for the day he could stand close to you without you second guessing and stepping away.

As your lips twitched into a half smile, he realized it wasn’t meeting your eyes like it usually does, but the second you turned back to Anthony, you wore a bright smile. He felt a pang in his chest, something resembling jealousy but he quickly squashed it because he knew his best friend didn’t see you like that, like how Mat saw you.

Mat managed to get through the interviews without staring at you too hard, and by the time Anthony and Anders let you go, the other reporters and journalists had walked out so Mat easily grabbed your wrists and pulled you to a stop.

“Hey, you,” Mat breathed, smiling softly.

“Hey, good game.” You answered.

Your smile was… too professional. It was small and tight and how you used to smile when you first started here a few months ago. It took Mat weeks to pull a real smile out of you, one where your eyes twinkled and his heart clenched inside his chest. You always told him good game, even if it was a shit game, but tonight was just different somehow.

“I, uh,” Mat stumbled over his words as you pulled your wrist from his grasp. He felt like he was sixteen again, talking to his crush after school. “Can you come out tonight? Tito said he asked you.”

“Can’t,” you answered, stepping away. “Have a good night, Mat.”

Another pang inside his chest as your words went cold, this time it was disappointment and hurt. Confused, Mat just stood there was you walked away from him, not even looking back over your shoulder to give Mat some sort of sign that all he needed to do was push for you to come out.

He felt like he was back to square one with you.

“Not so much fun when it’s you, eh?” Matt Martin asked him as he still stood there, watching your figure walk away.

“What’re you talking about?” Mat asked, turning to face his teammate.

Matt smirked and shrugged, heading into the showers. Annoyed, Mat went up to Tito. “Why is Y/N so pissed at me?”

“Dude,” Tito’s eyes glanced to his left, at Anders, before looking back at him. “Where were you two days ago?”

Clueless, Mat shook his head.

“Maybe you should watch your interview.” Tito said, sighing and turning to grab his clothes out of his bag.

#mat barzal imagine #mat barzal smut #mat barzal x you #mat barzal x reader

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curioskitty · 3 years

Text

THE・Rarest Bakugou

Given Bakugou-kun's description as a "juvenile delinquent" (Horikoshi sensei uses the term 不良少年, or furyou shounen, meaning juvenile delinquent boy), it's expected that he wouldn't conform to standard. So obviously, it's not possible to find Bakugou-kun wearing a tie properly................

What is up with this perfectly tied nonsense right here?!

Bakugou-kun, I thought I knew you!!! THE LIES! THE BETRAYAL!!!

But, it's probably just a fluke. You didn't mean it, right Horikoshi-sensei?

WTF?! WHY?!!! Horikoshi-sensei?!

Yep. Contrary to expectations, Bakugou-kun wearing a tie correctly only ranks at Ultra Rare status: difficult to find, but not impossible.

So, what's rarer than a tie-wearing Bakugou-kun? Go Beyond, Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In fact, it's even harder to find Bakugou-kun wearing a tie improperly. Given proto-Bakugou's loose tie design, I would have expected that to be the likelier delinquent-esque tie option. But I've only seen Horikoshi-sensei draw him like this once:

(Horikoshi-sensei's one year celebration illustration. This is still fairly early in the publication.)

On top of that, Bakugou-kun consistently wears his uniform tie-less and with at least one button undone on his shirt collar. His pants are always slung low on his hips and legs bunching up at his feet (except when he had to wear jeans for Best Jeanist). You can even see panels where Horikoshi-sensei drew in the rips at the hems near the heel where they drag on the ground.

So why the inconsistency, Horikoshi-sensei? I see you over there, stop pretending you didn't notice. I know you're paying attention.

Horikoshi-sensei gave proto-Bakugou a loosened tie, so what is the reasoning for taking Bakugou-kun's tie away?

Some No-Tie Theories

Fan Theory #1: HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW

//Like Midoriya-kun, Bakugou-kun came from a middle school with gakuran uniforms. They never learned how to tie them. Midoriya-kun messes up his tie, while Bakugou-kun doesn't even bother to try.//

I actually think this is the least likely reason. Bakugou-kun was designed to be a naturally talented genius. I think this applies to anything he wants to do. If he does something, it's always perfectly done.

Bakugou-kun can (and does if you look above) tie it perfectly when necessary.

CONCLUSION: If Bakugou-kun doesn't do something, it's completely out of personal preference or because he doesn't see a reason to.

Fan Theory #2: REBELLIOUS NATURE

//Bakugou-kun is a delinquent and maintains that image because he thinks it looks cool. Or maybe he is rebelling against fashion designer parents. Either way, because of his family background he knows how to tie a tie, but wants to be a rebel.//

I'd give partial points for this one. I'm pretty sure he wears his pants loose at least partially because he thinks it looks cool. However, Bakugou-kun's parents were noted to be designers and not specifically fashion designers.

Despite appearances, this is the kid that sleeps at 8:30pm, doesn't break school rules, and yells at his friends for smoking.

He zips up the collar on his gym track suit all the way. Both the summer and winter versions get the same treatment. He doesn't feel the need to "make a statement" by wearing his track uniform incorrectly. Outside of class, he can and does sometimes wear his track jacket unzipped, but during class he always wears it properly.

So then why does Bakugou-kun refuse to wear the band T-shirt and Christmas party Santa outfit? Because he isn't cooperative. In Ultra Analysis, his Cooperativeness Stat was the lowest rank: E.

CONCLUSION: Bakugou-kun may be non-conformist and uncooperative, but he isn't a rebel.

Fan Theory #3: TRAUMA/PTSD

//This is one of the more popular theories. Between Dabi grabbing his neck, the Sludge Villain and being restrained at the School Festival, our boy has been through the wringer. As a result, he just doesn't like stuff around his neck because it gives him anxiety.//

The Western Fandom is definitely concerned about the mental health of the kids. But I don't actually think this is the reason. Not that I don't think they all need some therapy and self care, especially right now, but there just isn't evidence for this specific trauma in Bakugou-kun.

He wears scarves and even turtle necks without a problem.

On top of that, Bakugou-kun ALSO unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and gakuran in middle school; even from before the Sludge Villain incident. There isn't any evidence Bakugou-kun changed his dressing habits due to trauma. He wore a scarf to the entrance exam for UA, too.

CONCLUSION: Bakugou-kun has ALWAYS worn his shirts with the top button unbuttoned.

These 3 theories are inadequate, too. Even if they did explain the reasons Bakugou-kun doesn't wear a uniform tie, they don't factor in the reasoning for why he DOES wear his other ties properly sometimes.

HC#1: Bakugou-kun's preference

Bakugou-kun doesn't seem to care about his image and how "extras" see him. Even during the press interviews after his hero debut, he wore the same style of open collar look. He's not shy about being nude or taking his shirt off.

But what he hates is being uncomfortable.

He is "explosively brawny". Just look at how thick Bakugou-kun's neck is when compared to Midoriya-kun's. It isn't just that Midoriya-kun is supposed to be scrawny, but also that Bakugou-kun has a thicker than average neck.

Bakugou-kun doesn't like to button up his shirts all the way because it's uncomfortable. It's reasonable that he zips his track suit and everything else up because those are looser at the neck or made of stretchier materials.

As for why he doesn't wear the uniform tie at all... Don't forget Bakugou-kun is a perfectionist and a bit of a neat freak.

He always tucks his shirt in. For the band performance he wore a collared black dress shirt. From what we saw of his room, it's minimalist and clean. I don't see him wanting to look like a slob.

A sloppy loose tie would probably irritate him more than just not wearing it (which is even funnier when you think about Midoriya-kun's chonk tie. It probably makes him want to strangle Midoriya-kun, or maybe just tie it himself...)

Bakugou-kun has difficulties compromising when it comes to his high standards. So if he has to wear it, it's going to be either 0% or 100%.

HC#2: Explosiveness

Why draw Bakugou-kun with either 0% tie or 100% tie? If Horikoshi-sensei is going for a delinquent image, wouldn't the 50% tie option make more sense?

Taking a look again at Bakugou-kun's profile page, Horikoshi-sensei describes him to be explosive in every way. That includes his whole body being "explosively brawny", but also adds a note that he looks slender in clothes.

Horikoshi-sensei put an effort to make every element of Bakugou-kun's character in some state of either fully compressed or explosive.

His slimming clothes, general appearance and even his speech patterns are highly compressed (blunt/terse) and loud. The extremes of his attitude are compressed too; if Bakugou-kun is not loudly raging, then he's quietly observing.

This contrast is key to his character. You can't explode if you aren't compressed first. It's supposed to be shocking to see how brawny he actually is under his slenderizing clothes. And I always feel shocked whenever I see this kid compressed into a tie.

HC#3: Deku & Kacchan

These two are set apart from the class by design and very much on purpose. Horikoshi-sensei designed them to be at opposite ends of the same spectrum.

If Bakugou-kun has muscular arms, then Midoriya-kun needs muscular legs. If Midoriya-kun buttons up his shirt all the way to the collar, then Bakugou-kun's collar has to be loose. Their designs reflect their connection.

So if Midoriya-kun has a poorly tied tie, the opposite of that is either non-existant or perfectly tied. If it's perfectly tied, he'd just blend in with the class.

The no-tie option just makes more sense.

Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou

Horikoshi-sensei only ever draws Bakugou-kun with a tie in specific scenarios. Costume events that require the neck tie as part of the costume or "fancy" events where everyone is in formal wear. And even in those, Bakugou-kun manages to not wear his tie 90% of the time.

So, I just imagine that when Horikoshi-sensei makes Bakugou-kun wear his tie, he's super grumpy! Just look at his face in every illustration he's wearing a tie in. He's probably hot, uncomfortable, and really not enjoying himself at all.

Ultimately, the "Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou" is a Bakugou-kun who wears the tie and SMILES while doing it.

(Yes, I know that's NOT actually a tie. Shut up Bakugou-kun. You're only smirking in this one because you won the Popularity Poll for the 5th time in a row...)

(Well that's random, you say? Welcome to my blog. Considering the stuff going down on canon, I figured I should give fans, and myself, a break from angst to talk about something silly.

Please note that this applies only to the manga. I've found that the anime isn't quite so strict about how Bakugou-kun looks.

Regarding the headcanons, I just want to clarify that everyone is free to think whatever they like. I enjoy all headcanons and support your right to have them.

I wrote this a while ago and then debated posting it because it's such a huge meta about... Bakugou-kun's tie. I had regrets. But now it's become my new years post. Regrets were for 2020, it's already 2021!

Demons out, fortune in!!! I know it's not setsubun for another month, but 2020 was such a demon.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!)

#why did i write this #does this even qualify as meta #bnha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #bnha randomness #bnha spoilers #bkdk #bakudeku #decchan #if you squint #bnha meta #boku no hero manga #Bakugou Katsuki's tie

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captainkappa · 3 years

Text

Fanfic:: Compromising Positions

“You need to try to be less sword focused."

“You’re just saying that so you can win.”

@dinlukenation Dinluke Day 3! T4T Sparring! That’s it, that’s all I have to say!

AO3 link

-=-=-=-=-

If asked, Din would say he doesn’t keep score when he and Luke spar. It’s all for fun, neither playing to win, just a way to pass the time as the kids take their nap time. That being said, the score is 3-1 in Luke’s favor when Din pulls himself to a seated position.

“You need to try to be less sword focused,” he says, brushing off grass caught in the creases of his armor.

Luke offers him a hand, which he takes, and pulls him up. “You’re just saying that so you can win.”

Din doesn’t take the bait. “You can always drop it in a fight.”

“I could.” Luke tosses aside his lightsaber, letting it disappear in the thick grass. “But you do realize I could always just-”

Just as quick as he’d thrown it, the lightsaber is flying back toward his hand, but Din has expected this. One arm lets out the ripcord, wrapping around Luke’s extended hand and the other one goes for the spear on his back. Pulling, he knocks Luke off balance so he’s on one knee, spear pointed at his neck.

The lightsaber bounces off Luke’s knuckles as they stare at each other. Din has to take a moment to ground himself, moving his weight to his heels and back to the balls of his feet to remind him where he is. It’s too easy to get lost in those eyes.

So, he focuses on the bewildered look on Luke’s face as he tilts his head.

“You were saying?”

Luke sighs. “Fine, fine, we can try sparring without my saber.”

“And no Jedi tricks?”

“And no Jedi tricks.” Luke quirks a half grin, “Now, are you going to let me go now?”

Oh, right.

Din retracts the ripcord and Luke stands up with a small shake of his hand. The movement catches Din’s eye and he’s transfixed by those fingers that grip a lightsaber just as easily as they cradle his child when Grogu passes out due to accidental overexertion.

Luke clears his throat and Din realizes he’s staring.

“Right,” he said, hoping his embarrassment isn’t picked up by his helmet. “And I won’t use my weapons either.”

Luke nods and Din steps off to the side to disarm himself of his weapons. He’s not as armed to the teeth as he is on bounties, but weapons are still his religion.

“Are you done yet?” Luke asks, the smile evident in his voice even as Din’s facing away from him. He huffs out a laugh.

The spear is the last to be removed, landing with the rest of his arsenal.

He walks back to Luke, who’s shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hands disappearing in the sleeves of his robe.

Din considers him from a moment before saying, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Luke scoffs. “And pass on the opportunity to fight hand-to-hand with a real Mandalorian? Why would I ever pass on that chance.”

“Alright,” he drops into a low stance as easy as ever. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Luke eyes him warily, but he can see Luke try and mimic his stance.

“I can teach you properly, but I want to see where-” Din can’t finish that sentence before Luke is upon him, all flailing limbs and dark fabric.

It’s not the worst attempt Din has seen, but it’s up there. It takes less than a minute to get Luke face down in the ground, Din kneeling above him. The lack of any loud crunching sounds reassures Din he hasn’t broken Luke’s nose.

“Who the hell taught you to fight?”

Luke lifts his head off the ground just enough to speak. “My aunt taught me how to shoot, Obi-wan taught me lightsaber basics, and Han taught me how not to break my thumb when punching someone.”

Well, it’s a start.

“Basics then,” he says, mostly to himself.

“Basics?” Luke asks as Din pulls himself up. “You mean you’re going to teach me?”

Din pauses. He thought that had been implied.

“Yes? Unless you don’t-”

“No! No, I want to learn!” Luke says, a little too quickly. He scrambles back up to his feet and rubs off some of the dirt from his face. “So, what’s first?”

“But first, you’re gonna have to take that off.”

Luke looks down on his black robes, and then back up at Din. “Why?”

“It’ll just get in the way. You need a free range of motion at least when learning.”

Luke huffs, but drops his cloak to the grassy floor all the same. He floats it over to where Din’s weapons are, folding it as it passes through the air. That leaves him in his trousers and a light-tan tunic, the low cut revealing a compression top.

With that out of the way, Din starts teaching the basics; how far to spread his legs apart, how to hold his arms, how to hit someone without hurting yourself. Luke takes to it with a focus Din only sees in meditation and the few missions he’s seen Luke on.

They don’t spar as much as Luke uses him as his own punching bag, pulling his punches so he doesn’t break a hand on the beskar. Din is thankful for the fight, which forces himself to focus on gently blocking Luke’s punches and not getting lost in Luke’s intense expression.

The sun is still hanging over the horizon when they finish that exercise. Din knows soon the kids will wake up and afternoon activities will start, and he should let Luke prepare for that, but he doesn’t seem to be looking at the Temple, so Din hazards a question.

“Do you want to try some grapples?”

Luke is still catching his breath, but nods, a smile gracing his features.

Maybe that’s why Din should’ve realized he was fucked.

Because demonstrating grapples requires physical contact. And not the quick physical contact of a punch, but the slow, deliberate contact that’s involved in incapacitating, followed by questions to make sure that Luke isn’t uncomfortable, if he understands how the grapple is supposed to work. And then they have to reverse and let Luke try it on him, Luke’s hands finding the spaces between armor, becoming suddenly intimate with the fine corded muscle Luke hides under those robes.

But Din does it, thankful for the layers between them and the helmet hiding the creeping warmth on his face.

He’s halfway to bringing Luke into a kneeling position, his arms tucked under Luke’s armpits, locking him in place, when Luke freezes underneath him, saying, “Wait-”

Din stills, loosening his grip on the other man.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, lemme just-”

Luke shakes his leg and for a second Din thinks he’s pinched a nerve or pulled a muscle. That is before there’s a soft thunk in the grass as something fell out of Luke’s pant leg.

The two of them look at the offending piece of silicone. Din swears he can see Luke’s face warm up on the HUD.

“Luke-”

“I know.”

“-your dick fell out.”

“I know.”

Din’s grip loosens as his shoulders start to shake from restrained laughter. A wind kicks up and makes the packer wiggle and then it’s over, Din being helpless to the laughter that shakes his core. He staggers back, hands on his knees as he tries and fails to calm down. Luke stays where he’s half kneeling, hiding his face in his hands, muttering about sweat and adhesive.

When Din collects himself, he manages to say, “It’s fine. I once had mine fall out during a hunt for a bounty.”

Luke gives him an incredulous grin. “Really?”

“Yeah and… then I threw it at the guy.”

Luke looks at him before bursting out laughing himself, falling onto the grass with gut wrenching gasps. Din laughs along with him, the memory just as ridiculous as ever.

“I needed a distraction and then it just… fell out!” he tries by way of explanation, but that seems to get Luke to laugh harder.

It feels like an hour passes before Luke is able to get a full breath in and speak.

“Oh, stars,” he says with a gasp, still laying in the grass, hair fanned out around him. “I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in a while.”

Din holds out his hand and pulls Luke up. Either Din forgot his own strength, or Luke is still out of it from laughing because the two collide with the momentum. Luke grabs onto the edges of the chest plate to steady himself as Din’s hands hover over his shoulders.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Luke says, slightly breathless. Din blames it on the laughter.

Luke stills for a moment, eyes going glassy in a familiar way when he’s talking to students along their training bond.

He gives Din a small smile, taking a step back. “The kids are awake. We probably would’ve had to stop anyway, I have to clean my dick.”

Luke stoops down to pick up his packer, his robes floating over in the same movement, draping over his shoulders as he stands back up.

Din swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Need me to look after the foundlings while you do so?”

“Padawans, but,” Luke’s smile is shy now, “if it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Of course not.”

Luke nods and Din watches as he shoves his dirty packer into his robes before walking in the direction of the nearby lake.

The sigh comes unbidden from Din’s lips, longing and wistful in a way he knows it shouldn’t be.

#dinluke #skydalorian #din djarin x luke skywalker #din/luke #dinluke week #the rest of my dinluke week fics will have at least one of them be trans #and im excited #i wrote the last part of this when i was panicking about job apps so IDK HOW GOOD IT IS LMAO #also my first t4t!!#so many firsts!!#in just one week!#shhhhh i totally remembered these tags first try #kappa writes #my fanfic #star wars #the mandalorian #sw

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hoe-doroki · 3 years

Text

passing the night stars

banner by @dymphnasprose

warning: reader has social anxiety

pairing: shinsou x reader (platonic or romantic)

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 3.2k

summary: The party was neon and you needed darkness.

a/n: this is a gift for my SiL’s birthday today! To any astronomy nerds: I tried and I’m sorry.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

There was something to be said about distance.

It was a buffer, quieting every voice, external and internal, until the only one left was that of the crickets singing over the lo-fi spilling out of the house behind you. You’d stepped away from the party long enough ago that the playlist had started over many songs back—you had no clue how many anymore. The distance turned the music’s thrumming into a quiet melody, the lyrics just as indistinguishable up close as here in the backyard, sitting on patio furniture that rocked lopsidedly in the grass.

Any filter would do, though. Anything that could soften the world just a little around its loud, coarse edges. The ice in your peach-flavored hurricane melting so that the drink was a little less saccharine. The rum casting a film over your mood, keeping your loneliness from dropping you into total dolor. The slight late-night breeze blowing the smoke from the fire pit away from you so that the acrid smell was stronger on the hood of your black sweatshirt than the air. It all muddled your emotions, numbing the buzzing overwhelm of the party to an anxious hum. The party had been neon, and out here you had a bit more darkness.

Without these buffers absorbing some of the furor, you might have escaped the party hours ago. Snuck out while the thing was still in full thrall, before social anxiety could hiss over your bones. Got out while you were ahead. Instead, you’d lasted as long as you could before out to the backyard with the near-dead fire, wracked with guilt at the prospect of leaving without saying goodbye, while too nervous to actually draw the attention to yourself necessary to actually say goodbye.

That wasn’t to say you hadn’t held up for a good while, though. You’d hung out with your friends when the fire had just gotten started and then when the party had moved indoors for drinking games and edibles. You’d hovered on the border as your friends grew more interested in dancing in drunken delay to the somniferous lo-fi beat than conversation. Then the itching had started in your brain, and before you knew it, you were out here, social battery drained dry, waiting for an indefinite future in which you could find the energy to escape.

You shivered as footsteps swiped through the grass, crickets chirping at the intruder.

“Did I surprise you?” Shinsou asked, his voice deep from booze or smoke or both. Or, maybe he was just tired, you figured, as the harsh light of the fire sharpened the bags under his eyes into dark creases.

“Breeze,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising on your wrists, standing the fine hairs on end. Only a few licks of heat from the pit were touching your knees, leaving the rest of you cold in your threadbare sweatshirt as the fire shrank smaller and smaller.

Shinsou had a blanket in his arms, ratty and certainly stolen from the back of the living room couch. He blinked at you for a second before he asked, “Can I join you?”

His voice was deadpan. Between the two of you, there was no real vocal inflection to speak of. Still, you shrugged one shoulder and said, “Sure.”

You stiffened when, instead of choosing one of the many other patio chairs or foldable camping chairs forming a friendly circle around the fire, he joined you on your bench, tossing a bit of blanket over your knees. You hardly realized you were staring at him until he said, “You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah, a little,” you said, tucking your knees up to your chin and curling the scrap of blanket around your arms.

The blanket was raggedy in your hands, pilled on the hem, but warm from being indoors with all the dancing bodies. Plus, clinging onto it, running your thumb over the uneven texture gave you something to focus on instead of Shinsou’s body so close to yours.

Your senses were tingling, raw at having someone nearby again. It was too soon—you still didn’t have anything to say, no defense for why you’d dropped off from the party without a word.

But, on the other hand, being alone wasn’t fixing you either. Parts of your brain were still coiled taut as compression springs, and while they weren’t getting any tighter, they weren’t quite loosening yet either. It was rest, not recovery.

Abruptly—was it abrupt, or were you that zoned out?—Shinsou touched the back of his hand to yours, nearly making you flinch as he furrowed his brows at you. “How long have you been out here?” he asked, shifting towards you and pushing more of the blanket into your lap.

“Oh, um—” maybe a half an hour, maybe more, “—not that long.”

For that flash of contact, his skin had been hot against yours, so you could only imagine how cold your hands had felt to him. Your icy drink was probably mostly to blame, but you were also suddenly aware of how your shoulders were hunched nearly to your ears, your arms clenched to your sides like your chest might warm them. You piled the blanket a little more over your knees and one shoulder, only the hand holding your drink poking out.

“Hard being on the fringes,” he mused as he took a sip from a can. Possibly seltzer, probably beer.

You mirrored, tasting your own drink. It was really mostly water by now, though you were sure it was still painting your tongue orange.

Shinsou’s situation wasn’t much different than yours. Everyone in that house was old classmates. Shinsou was too, but he’d come late. Not too late to be friends, but late enough that it mattered. You were even later—not a classmate, but a post-high school roommate. You’d both landed on the side of Kaminari’s friend group, but neither of you were the core of it. The heart of it. That, for reasons you couldn’t quite understand, was Bakugou.

For some reason, you and Shinsou had never talked about this before.

“Hard being in a group big enough for there to be a fringe.”

Because, of course, it wasn’t just the Bakusquad here today. The majority of the old 3-A was here, those who weren’t on duty or suffering with early morning duty tomorrow. Enough people to certainly cause a ruckus and maybe a noise complaint that even pro heroes wouldn’t get out of.

“Touché”

The two of you fell into silence, and you couldn’t help but wonder exactly what had drawn Shinsou from the party. Even if he didn’t feel he was the most popular guy in the room, you’d seen the way he had the ability to talk to everyone. You weren’t sure if it was a product of his quirk or what, but he was able to start a conversation with everyone he met. He didn’t seem shy or anxious in the least.

Then again, that was just what he presented. You knew from that what you put forth in public wasn’t necessarily in line with what you were feeling.

It was hard to be the introvert around a group like yours. Worse—it was noticeable. This wasn’t the first time you’d stumbled away from a party, mind half gone not on alcohol or weed but on the sudden assault of attention, loud voices, and talk of hero work. Being one of the only non-heroes in the room was exhausting, and maybe that’s why you’d had to escape. Or maybe there never was a reason, good or otherwise, and you were just here because of your stupid self.

“Clear night,” Shinsou commented, “Don’t get to see much of the stars in the city.”

You looked up, a bright spot in the center of your vision from where you’d been staring into the fire. Almost everyone in your group lived in the city, not too far from each other, depending on your definition of the word. But those with quirks better suited outside the city, like Tsuyu and Koda, had moved out of town post graduation, granting the rest of you access to a night in the suburbs like this.

The truth was, you hardly looked up at the sky in the city. Tourists were always looking up, eyes glinting off the skyscrapers and billboards. But natives were always looking down, too aware of the fact that other natives didn’t always clean up after their dogs and, with so little grass, the sidewalk often needed a close eye kept to it.

But here, it was pretty. Not the smog-stained brown you were used to, but deep blue and twinkling with infinite pinpricks.

“Mm,” you hummed, taking another sip of your watery drink. “You’re right.”

“There’s Cassiopeia,” he said, pointing just over the tree line.

You followed his finger, unsure quite of what you were looking at. The stars hardly looked like clusters to you, especially on a night like this where you could see so many. It was more a broad network of them, either all connected or all individual. All the stars or just a star.

“You know constellations?” you asked, ears latching onto something that finally wasn’t hero related. Truth be told, you probably knew less about stars than you did about hero work but it was less alienating. You could lean into it.

“Some,” he offered. “Cassiopeia is a basic one.”

“Where is it?”

Shinsou glanced at you, leaning in closer so that his finger could match your gaze. You shoulders knocked and you could feel his wild hair against your own. His finger traced down and up, down and up in a cockeyed W. “Cassiopeia, mother of Andromeda.”

“She’s a woman?”

It was any wonder that ancient people had looked into the night sky and seen things like rams and bulls, creating a whole woman out of a few diagonal lines. Still, you listened to Shinsou, his low voice rumbling into your tired bones as he began.

“A beautiful woman,” he answered. “In Greek myth, she thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her boastfulness made Poseidon angry, so he created a sea monster that Andromeda was sacrificed to. Andromeda was left to await her fate when Perseus, who had just killed Medusa, used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster to stone. After saving Andromeda, the two of them got married, and when they died, they both became constellations alongside Cassiopeia.”

Shinsou’s voice was husky and even as he told the story. The cadences were easy drops, landing you softly before he started up again with his next thought. It was a voice you could be rocked by, a voice you could be held by.

“Do you know where they are too?”

“Just below,” Shinsou said. “Probably come up just in time for the sun to make them invisible.”

“That’s too bad,” you said, curling deeper into the blanket, curling so that on shoulder leaned more onto the bench than the other. You head was almost resting on Shinsou’s shoulder and you could feel his warmth radiating in the cold night. “How do you know all this?”

Shinsou was quiet for a second and your nerves spiked again. You hadn’t even felt them relax, but suddenly your anxiety was scratching again, wondering if you’d misspoke. Or maybe you’d whispered it and he just hadn’t heard you? Before you could decide whether to say it again or apologize, though, he let out a sigh that jostled the blanket.

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” he said by way of explanation.

You cocked your head. Perhaps it was just a good hobby for an insomniac, but you were unsure about the evasiveness. “Did you have to learn a lot for general studies? Or to get in to U.A.?”

“…Yeah.”

You could only imagine. U.A. was an incredibly competitive school for heroes, but that was a specialized course. For general studies you didn’t need to have the physical prowess or the other particular skills that came with heroics, but you had to be an ace in school. It was no small feat to get into general studies, especially while you were trying to pursue something else. You were satisfied with that, ready to let it go and return to the near silence of the crickets and the fire popping, when Shinsou suddenly continued.

“When it looked like my plans to become a hero wouldn’t pan out,” Shinsou began, his words slow, tired, “my parents encouraged me into any and all other interests. None stuck.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, the personal admission taking you aback.

For all the times you’d seen Shinsou talk effortlessly with people in a room, you weren’t sure how personal or vulnerable you’d ever seen him. He seemed comfortable enough probing other people, but this was new. It made the space between you suddenly seem private—so different from the party you’d escaped from. You could still hear the ambient noises of a couple dozen people in there having a good time, but it was suddenly a world away.

“I’m sorry, Shinsou,” you said, brows furrowing as you glanced his eyes, still gazing up at the stars. His parents had probably thought they were being supportive, but it wasn’t the support he’d desired.

“It is what it is,” he said. “It worked out in the end.”

There was the smallest smile on his face at that, barely betraying what must have been true joy at having a dream slip through his fingers only to fly back to him. And he’d earned every bit of it, even if he wanted to keep it to himself.

“So now,” you began softly, “you just have a lot of little things that you can offer people. The little things you could have been. That’s not so bad, right?”

“No, it’s not so bad,” he agreed. “I always liked that story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Japanese astronomy varies so much from region to region and is usually about more functional things. Harvest, seasons. But these other myths about people with no chance of being heroes becoming ones anyway…”

He trailed off, but the sentiment was there. Trapped in the things he’d done to try and leave heroism behind were little vestiges. The inescapable fact that he was meant to be a hero and would be one anyway, even if the world told him he was a villain, doomed for failure.

The stories had been true.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, surprising you.

“Feeling better?”

“You’d been out here for over an hour,” Shinsou stated. “Your eyes were glassy and distant and you were freezing and you didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh,” you intoned. You hadn’t realized it had been that long. You were sure it had only been half that time.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“No, I’m fine,” you said truthfully. “I’m fine now.”

The anxiety from earlier that had been buzzing through you had kept you awake, all while thoroughly draining you. You’d hardly realized just how much until now, with your body not just feeling settled but heavy. The stress had run straight through you, and now you bore the fatigue.

Shinsou glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. His brows raised and it lifted his whole face, making the dark circles under his eyes just a little less stark. “You look exhausted.”

“You always look exhausted,” you retorted, your first little grin curving along your lips.

In his surprise, Shinsou smiled too. “I know that. Here.”

Shinsou took your forgotten drink from your hand and set it down, then patted his shoulder.

“You should rest for a little while.”

Your eyes met his, searching for anything that looked like obligation or impatience. But there was none. Just a surprising amount of openness and a pretty shade of purple.

“Do you have more myths?”

Shinsou smiled and, once again, his gaze went up to the stars. As he started another tale, you snuggled onto his shoulder, the rest of your body drawing closer to his as well. He didn’t wait long to begin speaking, talking in more detail than he had before. There was no reason to be concerned that he might be boring you, or that you didn’t want to hear it. Really, these stories, these stars that had brought him even the tiniest speck of light were just what you needed too.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, and you weren’t sure when you woke up. But when you blinked your eyes awake, the first thing you noticed was that Cassiopeia hadn’t moved far. The second was the feeling of Shinsou’s head tilted against yours, his breath like gentle waves under you.

You shifted, signaling that you were awake, and Shinsou did too, his head lifting from yours. At some point, his arm had wrapped around you, encasing you in his warmth. He didn’t move it, not yet, as your body creaked and you forced yourself to sit up.

“How long?” you murmured, voice barely raspy with sleep.

“Not that long,” Shinsou answered, echoing your reply from earlier.

He didn’t look at his phone or a watch, and hadn’t since he’d come out, so you wondered if he had any clue. Or if it simply hadn’t felt long. Somehow, the idea that his time spent with you hadn’t felt long was a comfort, a relief.

“How are you feeling?”

You checked in, feeling that grogginess that always came in the wake of an intense mental episode. Your brain struggling to catch up and survey the backlash from its earlier antics. That would go away. It always did. “I’m good.”

Shinsou continued to look at you, switching between each eye, double checking your expression for any lie. But he must not have found any, for he leaned back into the bench and relaxed, that tiny ghost of a smile back on his face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, gazing out again. “You out here alone before? It had been…well, we were…I wanted to check on you.”

For the first time, Shinsou looked almost a little shy, and you couldn’t help but smile, touched. You put a hand on the shoulder that had just taken your weight and brought his gaze back to you. “Thank you.”

There actually was one thing you knew about stars. You’d heard that every light year a star was away from you was a year into the past you were seeing its light. Looking at the stars was looking millions of years into the past. Despite the fact that these selfsame stars connected you to humans around the world today and those of old, that filter of distance and time rendered them ancient, if not already gone.

But as you looked at Shinsou, their soft, silvery starlight illuminating one side while the last dancing coals of the fire glowed on the other, you were sure that this was the opposite. This wasn’t old or past or known to anyone but the two of you. This wasn’t the stars or even the stories inspired by them.

This was just beginning.

#shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinso #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shinsou fanfiction #shinso fanfiction #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #tw: anxiety

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ushijimas-koibito · 4 years

Text

sick days with toshi; pt.1

tuesday - september 1, 2020

listening: i’m in love with you, sorry by j’san; you’re cute by tomppabeats; feelings are fatal by mxmtoon; bloom later by jesse; be your man by rhys lewis; first date by frad

-the one where toshi gets sick and you take care of him-

warnings: light cursing, nudity, suggestive content, kissing, cute fluff

“please, (y/n),” tendo pleads on the phone, “i would stay and take care of him but he’s making me leave for practice!” you sigh, “he’s ‘making’ you,” you say suspiciously. “look, I know you don’t know him that well, but.. PLEASE (y/n)!” tendo wasn’t really one to seriously beg so you comply.

you look up at the clocktower, it’s getting late in the afternoon; it won’t take that long to walk from the gym to ushijima’s dorm. you pop in your ear phones and jog across campus. you had your gym bag and a change of clothes with you already so it wasn’t totally inconveniencing. as you were running up, tendo was running out of the building adjusting the back of his sneaker. “you’re a lifesaver, (y/n), honestly,” you smirk and take the key he holds out to you, “i’ll be back right after, ‘kay?!” and then he’s off again, jogging towards the gym. you walk up to tall dorm building and catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the glass doors- windblown hairs framing your face after loosening from your ponytail, running jacket half hanging off and slipping off your exposed shoulder, tight spandex shorts, dirty sneakers, skin glistening with sweat- a mess. you scan the key card and make your way upstairs noticing the many glances you’re receiving as you remember that this is a boys dorm and you are very much out of place. you smile at some freshmen jogging down the stairs who slam themselves into the wall to make room for you as their jaws hang open; either these boys are easily impressed, or you don’t look as bad as you thought. you reach the top floor and look for ushijima’s name and room number. you find the door and knock, no sound, no answer. wow, he must be really unwell, you think to yourself and you unlock the door.

you walk in and notice the very tidy and minimalist room with sparse decorations, save a few polaroids and postcards on the fridge, a shiratorizawa throw blanket on the back of the couch, and fresh flowers in a few simple vases. this felt bizarrely intimate, to enter the private space of someone so reserved that you didn’t really know outside of a handful of interactions. you set your stuff in the entryway and slipped your shoes off. you looked in the corner of your bag for your slides, hm, must have left them in the gym, you thought. you see a spare pair of slippers on the small shoe shelf and slide them on. they swallow your entire foot and look more like skis than slippers. you slide them back off and take your running jacket off and hang it on the coat rack. the dorm, which looks more like an apartment, is dark- the curtains drawn and most of the lights off except the faint glow of the on button of the humidifier you can see in the bedroom. a soft hazy mist hangs in the air smelling of lavender and eucalyptus. the place is freezing but it was sort of refreshing mixing with the smell of mist and the subtle deeper woodsy smell that clung to everything in the dorm.

you hear a husky cough come from the massive mound of duvets in the bed followed by a deep groan. ushijima, every time you have seen him he’s either been in peak performance or out training; you would never have imagined you’d see him sick, let alone be the one to take care of him. he rolls over toward the door and looks at you. after a moment of silence, you say jokingly, “tendo told me you were sick, not dying.” he chuckles softly and you know he must be really, really sick. “thank you for coming here, (y/n),” he croaks, his voice somehow an octave deeper, “but it’s unnecessary. I am sorry Tendo wasted your time.” his eyes are barely open but you can see they are heavy and glassy. his cheeks and nose are tipped with a rosy flush and the fringe of his hair is stuck to his forehead. you walk further into the room and lean a knee on the side of the bed to reach over and feel his forehead, he shivers. his skin is blazing hot and clammy. he looks up at you and his flush deepens. “you’re burning up, ushijima.” he coughs and takes a deep breath, “wakatoshi,” you stop, your hand hovering above his head, “you’re taking time out of your life to help me, you can call me by my first name.” you smile softly as the pink flush floods to his ears and his eyes drop down to his covers. you study him a moment and then look down at your posture and what you’re wearing. He must feel uncomfortable having some girl he doesn’t really know in nothing but a sports bra and spandex shorts crawl on top of him. you immediately stand up, “i’ll get you a cold compress and some medicine.” you half laugh uncomfortably and cross your arms over your bare torso as you exit the room.

shit, i’ve made him feel uncomfortable. you go over to your bag to get your t-shirt, however, your bag is empty. you smack your forehead, must’ve been when tendo called and i couldn’t find my phone. you left the gym in a rush earlier and must’ve forgot to put your clothes back in your bag. you didn’t want to put your running jacket back on because it was loud and swishy and one of those thermal sweat-inducing ones. crap.

you went into the kitchen to get a cold compress from the fridge and rummaged through the cabinets to find medicine. this guy has a well stocked kitchen. his fridge and counters were full of fresh vegetables, cabinets full of organic grains and supplements, not a morsel of junk food in sight. you found some medicine and headed back towards his bedroom. you considered wrapping the blanket from the couch around you but you didn’t want to get it sweaty. with a sigh you headed back in. “is it alright if I sit here?” you nodded to the spot on the bed next to him and he sheepishly nodded his head. you sat down and cracked open the electrolyte drink and emptied the pills into your hand, “here,” you said as you reached out towards him. he looked up at you still as stone from the edge of his blankets, “no.” he said simply. “what?” you said in suprise. it couldn’t possibly be that the captain ace was actually a giant baby, “c’mon ushi-wakatoshi, you won’t get better if you don’t.” he shook his head again and pulled the covers over his nose, “no, it’s indecent.” you stared at him a moment and then looked down, “look, I couldn’t find my shirt-“ he cuts you off, “no,” he pauses and nods underneath the covers, “I’m indecent.” realization dawns on you, “oh..” he’s not a baby, he’s a gentleman.

you lean over him to put the drink on the bedside table and you feel him stiffen, “uh… well.. it’s alright wakatoshi,” you look around for something to cover yourself with and in frustration of not finding anything, you sputter, “you’ve seen me without a shirt and i’m not even sick,” you laugh half embarrassed, “at least you have an excuse.” he finally looks at you after a moment, “are you sure I wouldn’t make you uncomfortable?” you laugh, “you act like I haven’t seen a man before, it’s just a torso, wakatoshi.” ‘it’s just a torso..?’ really, (y/n). he considers this for a moment, “alright,” he releases the covers and tries to prop himself up. he can hardly lift himself, which is shocking, so you reach out to help him, “no!” he exclaims as he slams back down on the pillow wincing. he looks up at you sheepishly, “seeing me is one thing.. touching is another. i can do it myself.” he obstinately tries again and slams back into the wall hitting his head a bit and coughing, “if you keep trying to do this on your own, you’ll get a concussion, please let me help.” with a sniffle he agrees lifting his arm and exposing the chiseled muscles of his chest and obliques. you tuck yourself under his arm and help him to a sitting position. his skin is burning up and surprisingly soft and smooth. you can feel his shoulders flex as you help him get situated. you knew he was large but you didn’t really understand until you realized your arm could barely reach across his shoulders and you could barely lift him.

as you were pulling away, he turned his face and suddenly you were nose to nose with him, “thank you, (y/n).” you pulled back and stood up, flustered, “sure, of course, you’d do the same for me, right?” he nodded. “i would.” he said softly, before popping the pills in his mouth and taking a long swig of the drink. “should you ever need me to, please reach out and i will be there.” he looks in your eyes a long moment and then his gaze drops, taking in the rest of you. suddenly, as if he caught himself, he turned his head and downed the rest of the drink, “uh.. where is that c-cold compress?” he stutters. the flush returning to his cheeks and ears and down his neck. “here,” you said practically throwing it at him and looking at your hands. he was beautiful, even sick as a dog, he was stunning and you had just had his bare torso against yours, had him wrapped in your arms. “i-i’m going to make you something to eat, please call out if you need something.” with a swift bow you left the room and headed to the kitchen. you flipped on the light and gathered your thoughts; you caught a glimpse of yourself in the microwave. a mess, you thought and took your hair down, you flipped your hair over and back and gathered it up to put it in a neater ponytail, at that moment you look up and catch him staring at you from the bed, he pulls the compress over his eyes and sinks lower into the covers. he must be sick if he’s looking at me that way. he’s way out of my league, you think to yourself a moment and shake it off, it’s just his fever, he doesn’t like you like that.

as you rummage around the well stocked kitchen, you begin to make a nutritious vegetable stew. the aroma fills the kitchen and you are in your element. you love to cook and it is so nice to be in a decent kitchen. you looked up from your work and study the room. your dorm was nothing like this but you were also not a volleyball god. some guys have all the luck, you peek into the room seeing he has fallen asleep upright clutching the compress and the empty drink bottle. he was sort of cute in an uncomplicated and tender sort of way. the soup bubbles and catches your attention and you turn around to check on it. it’s turned a beautiful color and the ingredients are melding harmoniously. you smile to yourself knowing this soup will be healthy and comforting.

you tidy up and turn on one of the small living room lamps as it’s now dark outside. you check your phone and see a text from tendo, practice taking longer than expected! meeting and study group after! thanks for sticking by waka! he had to be kidding. you couldn’t possibly stay all night! you don’t think ushijima would be too happy with the idea of a stinky girl in his dorm overnight. you sigh and text tendo back, i have no clothes you insane person! i can’t just stay here all night! you put your phone down to preserve battery with a shiver and decide to make some tea to warm up while the soup finishes up. you turn on the kettle and decide to go check on ushijima. you walk into the room quietly and rub the tops of your arms to warm up. you walk over and sit gently on the bed, prying the bottle and compress from his strong hands. he releases fairly easily at the touch of your fingertips. you reach up to feel his forehead and he opens his eyes. he smiles sleepily at you and sort of leans into your hand, “something smells wonderful,” he says in a groggy voice. his temperature seems to have come down and his skin is a more reasonable temperature. his hand reaches up and clasps yours and his brows furrow, “you’re freezing.” as if on cue you shiver and goosebumps creep up your arms, “i’m fine, ushijima,” you try to pull your hand away but he holds it still. “i would feel terrible if you fell ill taking care of me.” he tries to move to get up but he is still very weak. he points to a dresser, “in that bottom drawer there are t-shirts and an unworn pack of boxers that were too small for me, please help yourself to anything you find in there as well as my shower.” you turn to protest but he holds up a sovereign hand, “please do this before i run a bath for you myself.” you purse your lips, “go.” he says and points to the bathroom, “i’ll tend to dinner in a moment, go. shower.” you hold up your hands in defeat and gather a shirt and boxers from the drawer before heading to the bathroom. you look over your shoulder to check on him and he is standing, wearing nothing but his boxers and looks at you. he waves you on and you enter with a huff.

the bathroom is small and clean with plain fixtures and a few tropical plants. as you turn on the shower you notice the water pressure is way nicer than your dorm, i should shower here more often, you laugh at the thought. what were you thinking? this is insane. you are about to be naked in ushijima wakatoshi’s bathroom. what even is my life? you think as you disrobe and step into the warm water. the few products are very nice and organized; you take extra care to return them to their specific spots. of course his hair products are designer, you think as you work the conditioner into your hair. you suds up the soap between your fingers and a familiar scent catches your attention, that’s it, that’s him. you inhale deeply, nearly taking suds up your nose. the scent is intoxicating. it’s a combination of cedar, tobacco, and a hint of black currant. you’ve never smelled anything like it and you don’t care to smell anything else.

you finish up your shower and dry off. you slip on the shirt and boxers and they swallow you up. you push up the sleeves on the long-sleeved shirt you grabbed and see that it’s his volleyball shirt from nationals last year. you gather your things and head out. you can hear the quiet cheering of a volleyball game coming from the low volume tv in the living room. ushijima has set up the living room table with placemats, napkins, and silverware. in the center is a fresh loaf of crusty bread, a few candles, and a small vase of flowers. “i’m sorry i don’t have a proper dining area,” he calls over his shoulder, “but it’s the least I could do for someone who’s made a homemade stew.” you see him smile and ladle the stew into a couple bowls. he sets the bowls on the counter and turns around to face you. his breath catches and the flush rushes back into his cheeks, “how was your shower?” he says clearing his throat and washing his hands in the sink. “it was nice, thank you,” you gesture down your body and all around, “for everything.” he laughs softly and gathers the bowls, stopping in front of you, “it’s nothing, thank you for nursing me back to health.” he lingers a moment looking down at you sentimentally, he scans over your body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, “oh!” he exclaims hurrying over to put the bowls on the placemats, “i almost forgot!” he walks back in the kitchen and grabs two mugs of tea that seem to have two cozies on them? he unwraps them from the mugs to reveal a pair of socks, “i thought you might be cold out of the shower.. and i don’t have a dryer here in the dorm,” he hands the warm socks to you and then goes back to get the tea. “that’s… really nice actually.” you sit down in front of one of the bowls and slip on the socks. “thank you for the meal,’ he says before plunging a piece of bread into the stew and stuffing it into his mouth. he’s an odd balance of primitive hunger and pristine manners; watching him eat is fascinating.

you sip your tea and cross your legs, turning your attention to the volleyball game on tv. it’s a world match, japan verses finland. you take in this strange domestic bliss with a near stranger and feel at ease. he’s easy to be around and very comforting. you feel safe and at home. you tuck your limbs closer and wrap your hands around your mug. after a moment you feel him moving to drape the shiratorizawa blanket across your shoulder, “that’s a good look,” he says with a smirk, “getting into school spirit, eh, transfer?” you were enjoying this new side of ushijima. “does the god of shiratorizawa approve?” you flicked the corner of the blanket over your shoulder and dramatically fluttered your lashes. you laughed together and tea nearly came out of his nose. he pauses for a moment and reaches his large calloused hand over to delicately tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “i’m glad you came to shiratorizawa, (y/n).” he brushes your cheek with the back of his hand and then reaches once more for his tea as the sound of the first set whistle brings you both back to reality. your phone buzzes and you see a text from tendo, staying over at a friend’s dorm to study. you kids have fun! don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.. or anything i would ;). you watch as your screen goes black and your phone dies.

“crap,” you say and hop up to go over to your bag, hoping you packed your charger. “everything okay?” you moved so swiftly and urgently, you didn’t notice ushijima stand up with you, “yeah! totally, my phone just died.” ushijima walks over and stands very close to you, “can i see it? i may have a charger that fits.” you nod and hand him your phone. he looks at the charger port and heads back into the bedroom. he fiddles with the chords for a moment before coming back to you with a smile, “fits with mine perfectly,” he puts his heavy arm across your shoulders, “shall we finish dinner?” your arm naturally sweeps across the small of his back and you both walk back to the couch. you both finish your food and your tea and ultimately the volleyball match.

the next match that comes on is a replay of an old tournament between some american college teams. with your stomach full and your body finally starting to warm up, you can feel yourself starting to get sleepy. ushijima yawns and drapes his arm over the back of the couch, classic, you thought. “hey, (y/n),” he says almost nervously, “have you heard from tendo?” he looks at his phone, “he should have been here by now.” i knew it, you sighed, he wants me to leave. “yeah, he texted me before my phone died. he’s staying with a friend.” ushijima settled into the couch a bit, “i see,” with his other hand he raked his fingers through his fluffy hair, “hey, (y/n),” he looked down at his lap for a moment, “yes, wakatoshi,” he turned his eyes to you, “do you want to stay with me tonight?” um, what? did I just hear that correctly??? “you’re asking me to stay?” he smiles and nibbles the inside of his cheek a moment, “only if you want to. y’know, in case i relapse in the night.” he scoots a little closer to you. you feel the warmth of his skin radiate from his bare torso. he looks so handsome in the dim light and he seems.. hopeful? “do.. do you want me to, wakatoshi?” he runs his hand through his hair again, “uh, yeah, I would like for you to. i’m enjoying your company, i’d like to be closer to you.” you look down at the small distance still between you. “you do?” you ask in disbelief. “of course, you took care of me. not just anyone would do that.. y’know, i’ve had my eye on you for a while.” this can’t be real. “you ha-have?” he laughs at how stunned you are, “absolutely. i’m pretty lucky that my best friend roped my dream girl into taking care of me.” he shrugs and smiles warmly, “i can’t help but want to take this opportunity to get to know you and get closer to you.” you look down at the gap between you and then back at him, “get as close as you want, wakatoshi.”

you only think about the words that just came out of your mouth only after it was far too late to change them. “i mean-“ you laugh awkwardly and cover your face with the blanket. you feel a shift and the edges of the blanket being pulled away. wakatoshi’s face is inches away, “only if it’s okay with you.” he smiles and waits a moment looking at your lips and then back at your eyes. hell yeah it’s okay you think excitedly. you look at his lips and tilt your chin up. he gets closer and brushes your cheek with the back of his hand before deftly tilting your chin and pulling it closer with the crook of his fingers and softly touches your lips with his in what is possibly the most gentle and innocent kiss. his fingers unfurl and his hand cups your face for a moment before his fingers slide down your neck and then into your hair. his other hand curls around your waist. the kisses get deeper and more passionate; you feel yourself placing the weight of your body into his hands. he shifts his body from being above you and pulls you onto his lap. you curl your finger against his chest as your other hand finds its way to his hair. you pull apart for a moment as wakatoshi wraps the blanket around you both and pulls you closer to his body. “(y/n), thank you,” he kisses the tip of your nose, “for being here and for taking such good care of me.” with that sentiment he kisses you deeply and you prepare yourself for a very long and blissful night of taking care of ushijima wakatoshi.

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imagineabrighterworld · 3 years

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Mask Maker pt.1

A/N: This is around the time of when Mr. Compress acted as a master thief. He is in a different group than the LOV, but they won't be mentioned much ^^; this is part one of a mini series

For @thesemimythril , hope you like it and sorry it took so long! The next part will be much more fluff oriented!

- - -

Bandages covered your fingers, a multitude of colors to hide the nicks and scrapes you had on your skin. You were a carpenter, one who often got a little too close to your tools of choice.

When you had the time, you carved totems and masks, little things to sell in your shop for the people who weren't interested in buying your bigger pieces of work. It was a side hobby you indulged in. You liked the intricacies and patterns you could carve into the wood. People came by your workshop just to see your process.

You were proud to say you were a part of the artisan community in your area. A spot to visit when in the city.

This time around, you were working on a mask. But you had little inspiration for its design. It was a slow day, and not many people were passing by. It was quiet for a Saturday.

"Maybe this one will have to wait." You lower the mask onto your crafting table. You had orders to work on either way. Tables and chairs, dressers and frames, it was listless. But the mask would stay on your mind throughout the day while you worked.

Sooner than later as you were sanding down the leg of a chair, the bell at the front door chimes, signalling someone had entered the shop.

You peek your head over the seat of the chair, curious on who it was. Maybe it was one of the elderly couples that came every now and then with requests for animal carvings. Or one of your fellow shopkeepers. Or maybe it was simply a student who had nothing better to do.

It was neither of those. Standing in the doorway was a man with unruly black hair and brown eyes. He studied the room, staying in the doorway for a moment before finally taking a step forward. Immediately he takes the path to the masks in your glass display. He crouches to examine the lower festival themed masks before rising to see the more demure designs.

Your heart beats madly in your chest as he looks at you from the reflection on the glass. His smile is cat-like.

“Are you the creator of these?” He says smoothly as he turns around to face you. “They're finely crafted. I wasn't expecting such marvels when I was first told of your work.”

You let the low-blow slide as you swallow thickly. Why was the room suddenly so hot? Why was everything so heavy? Your mouth was dry as you rub your neck, forgetting the small pieces of wood that covered your gloves, wincing when a splinter of wood brushed against your skin.

“I- I make them as a side project.” You remove your gloves and dry your suddenly sweaty palms on your apron. “Were you interested in buying one?”

“Yes.” He draws near, giving a good amount of space between the both of you. “Though I was looking for something more simple.” His eyes fall on the blank mask on your table, eyes lighting up. “Something like this.” He picks up the polished piece of wood before looking at you with a wince. “My apologies, I should have asked permission to touch it first.”

“It's not a problem.” You assure him with a wave of your hand. Children had run inside your shop before, touching every display they could reach and nearly toppled them over in the process. You didn't mind him at all.

With your consent, he lifts the mask up to the light and inspects it. While it had no designs on the front, there was intricate curls and hollow spaces on the inside. It was made to be comfortable, even if it wasn't elastic like other masks.

The man grins. “Yes, this will do perfectly.” He reaches into his pocket. “How much do you want it for?”

Your brows furrow. “But it's not finished yet. It still needs its stain.” The mask was a light beige, but you wanted it to be a deeper mahogany color. “Are you sure you want it like that?”

He removes his wallet and hands you his card. “It’s perfect the way it is-” He brings his hand back as he taps the credit card against his lower lip. “Unless, you wouldn't mind customizing it a little?”

Peering at the nearly completed rocking chair behind you, you look upward as you count your fingers. You still had plenty of time to finish your orders. The mask wouldn't take even an hour of your time.

Depending on what he wanted done.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Something with a smile. Not your run of the mill clown faces. Something more.. interpretive.” He ends with a flourish of his hands. “Whatever strikes your fancy.”

You consider the item in his hands. The cat-like smile on his face. The way he held himself.

Smug. Confident. Not a shy bone in his body.

“I think I can do that for you.” You chew on your lip. “Would you like to return for it later or?”

He shakes his head. “I have nothing but time, my dear.”

You pull up a chair for the smiling stranger and sit on your stool, accepting the blank mask from his hold. Opening a drawer on your left, you remove a small tin of white paint and begin to coat the wood in even layers until it was completely opaque. Surprisingly, he stayed quiet the entire time.

Watching paint dry wasn't fun, even for you.

“I’m not boring you, am I?” You remove an even smaller tin of black paint and a thin round brush, dunking the tip in the paint and starting on the smiling design.

“Never. Watching a fellow artist doing their craft could never be anything less than magical.”

You laugh quietly, “I wouldn't say magical.”

“You create beautiful works of art out of blocks of wood. Your fingers never stutter, your lines are flawless,” Your hand hesitates, your focus suddenly focused on your hands now knowing he was watching them. A blush rises to your cheeks. “It is magic.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Atsuhiro.”

“Thank you Atsuhiro.” You finish your lines and set the brush aside before showing Atsuhiro your work. “It still has to dry, but will this do?”

“As I said before, it was already perfect.” His smug smile softens. “Perhaps I will come to you for another mask. I use them for my performances, you see.” He gives you his credit card and watches the mask as the new paint dries. All that was left keeping him in your shop was now the black paint.

Could paint dry slower if you willed it?

Alas, the paint dried and soon his mask was packaged in blue tissue paper and tucked away in a paper bag. You stand at the doorway with Atsuhiro standing across from you. The chill of the evening air did nothing to cool you off as the man winks at you.

“Until next time, my dear.”

“Until next time.”

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha mr compress #bnha mr compress #mha Atsuhiro sako #bnha atsuhiro sako #mr compress x reader #mha mr compress x reader #bnha mr compress x reader #lov x reader #league of villains x reader #have to admit its not really fluffy but I wanted to introduce them to each other first #it will become sappier as it goes #Mr. Compress is an absolute flirt but he gets boundaries #once he gets free reign though he would totally spoil you with compliments tho

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reluctant-mandalore · 4 years

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Imagine Din being all cute and concerned when you get a headache... Maybe I just want someone to help me with my excruciating pain but it's all I can think about rn

Din would take such good care of you!! He’d get you anything and everything to help you with your headache. I know you sent this in the other night anon, so I’m sorry for only getting to it tonight!! I do hope you’re feeling better, but I got just a few lovely headcanons for you below either way <3

----

+ Din is protective of you on a good day, so when you weren’t feeling well, his protection mod would go into overdrive.

+ He would be super concerned about you, and would do everything in his power to help you get through it.

+ If you were ok with taking medicine he’d get whatever was best. Doesn’t matter the cost. He just wants to help you feel better.

+ Would cater to your needs to a point. Whatever you need he would get or do for you. Literally spoils you left and right.

+ He’d make sure to set up the environment of the ship to suit your needs. This means that the majority of the lights would be turned off, and any loud machinery that could be turned off would be, making the ship dark and nearly silent (prefect for resting when trying to treat a headache).

+ His cot would be your home until your headache went away. He would insist that you use it, and would even set it up to be as comfy as possible, with lots of blankets and pillows!

+ He would also entertain the child to keep him away from bothering you, making sure the little one is quiet, and leaves you alone while you’re resting.

+ Sometimes he would get you to lay with your head in his lap, so he could gently massage your temple or neck for a little bit of extra relief.

+ He would prepare a cold compress for you to put on your forehead. It would just be damp cloth he had wet with cold water, but for whatever reason it brings a blissful relief from the painful headache you’re experiencing.

+ Though if you preferred a warm compress, he’d do the same but with a damp cloth that he had heated using warm water rather than the cold.

+ Either way, he would prepare some sort of compress for you to rest against your forehead to help with the pain.

+ If you were up to it, he’d pepper you with kisses and small (quiet) praises. Wanting to cheer you up and distract you at the same time.

+ Well try a few activities with you that may help you relax some more, and would do anything that may help.

+ He’s even done some yoga and mediation with you before in order to help with any stress that may have been causing your headaches.

+ He’d cuddle with you to help you fall asleep, rubbing soothing circles on your back while you laid on him, with your head tucked into his neck.

+ And he would continue to spoil and care for you in this way until your headache had left and you were feeling better.

---

Tags:

@starrywatermelon @ah-callie @readsalot73 @karnita-mexicana

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

In the Palm of Your Hand (pt 1)

Based on This Prompt from the lovely @major-trouble

no trigger warnings necessary (1.4k words)

---

In the aftermath of the Great Shrinking Spell Incident, Geralt is endlessly glad that Jaskier was there to keep him safe.

In the moment when both sorceresses scream a loud spell and launch their magic into the air with no consideration for the Witcher standing between them, however, Geralt wishes that Jaskier were standing in nearly any other room on the Continent. As the two opposing walls of chaos close around him and slam together, Geralt watches the world go wrong and wavy and odd around him. Everything inside him feels like it’s being compressed beneath two fully-grown wyverns. He’s being crushed. He’s being compacted. He’s being squished in on himself.

In the pain and confusion of two fully formed spells taking hold, Geralt’s body blesses him with sweet unconsciousness.

---

When he wakes up things feel...wrong.

His body is pillowed against something soft and warm and he’s covered from shoulder-to-toe with a huge, heavy blanket. When he sits up, his head spins and he groans, clutching at it with both hands and blocking out the light with the heels of his palms. “Jaskier?”

“Geralt!”

The thing he’s laying on shifts and suddenly Jaskier’s scent is overwhelming. He drops back against the pillow (because that has to be what he’s resting on top of) and cries out in real, legitimate fear. His best friend and traveling companion is towering over him, looking nervous. “Fuck! Jaskier, what the fuck!?”

“Don’t panic,” the bard soothes. His own lip is being bitten to shit between his front teeth and he holds up his hands as if surrendering. “I think it was those two crazy witches. After they did, uhm, this to you, they told me how to break both spells. It shouldn’t be too hard; we’ll just have to find our way to Yen sooner rather than later. We’ll get you back to your dangerous Witchering in no time.”

“Why do we need to see Yennefer?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow. Jaskier hated Yen. The two of them couldn’t be in a room together for more than five minutes before they started tearing each other apart either physically, verbally, or both at once. Then Geralt remembered that he was sitting down on the pillow as if it were a great bed. “Oh...right. She can probably undo it with some kind of counter-spell or something.”

“Not exactly,” Jaskier shrugs. “But close enough. The spells got kind of...twisted together, apparently. You’re stuck being pixie-sized until your true love can get her lilac and gooseberry lips on you.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm. I’m just glad your clothes shrunk with you. I’ve already started sewing up another suitable change for however long you’re in your current form. These need to be cleaned soon, anyway. I hope to be finished with your sleep-shirt by nightfall,” Jaskier rambles nervously. “But clothes aren’t that important now, are they? You see, my plan is to deliver you safely into Yennefer’s loving arms at that magically hidden manor house of hers and head to Oxenfurt for the remainder of the season. I figured that you two might want to have some nice alone time before winter arrives and chases you off to Kaer Morhen.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

The Witcher is thankful that his small size hasn’t seemed to change the pitch of his voice. If he had become a squeaky, pixie-like creature in all regards he would have died of shame long before getting to…

Well why had Jaskier assumed that Yennefer’s kiss would break the spell?

“Why do you think Yen can break the spell?”

“It’s True Love’s Kiss, Geralt. Try to keep up,” Jaskier’s voice is high and teasing but there’s an undercurrent of resigned sadness that the Witcher doesn’t understand. He breathes in deeply again, trying to find a clue, and notices that his companion’s usually bright and sunny scent has changed. Rather than the bard’s signature whirling notes of rose and lavender, the bard is surrounded by a cloud of bitter, acrid disappointment. Jaskier suddenly squares his shoulders and shoots Geralt a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes at all. The bitterness hasn’t disappeared from the air, either. “Surely nobody else will be able to break the spell, dear Witcher. You’ve been chasing after our good Lady Yennefere for nearly a decade, now, at least.”

“Hmm.”

“Eloquent as ever, Thumbelina.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Geralt huffs. He crosses his arms over his chest in an attempt to look menacing but he surmises that he must look rather adorable like this because Jaskier doesn’t look properly chastised at all. In fact, he looks about two seconds away from picking the minuscule Witcher up and nuzzling him like a kitten. Jaskier had referred to his behavior around small animals and children once as cute aggression.

“I just can’t help but pet these puppies so ferociously, Geralt, they’re just too sweet and little!”

“Have you never heard the tale of Thumbelina and her handsome Prince? Or in this case, sorceress?”

Geralt crosses his legs underneath him and pats the pillow invitingly. Jaskier lays down and turns to face the Witcher, who’s reclining back against the bedding once again. The bard tells his tiny friend the story of Thumbelina and the Prince who gives her wings, adding in some extra cute bits that he knows Geralt will sigh about later when he’s alone.

By the time he’s finished telling his Witcher a bedtime story, Geralt is dozing lightly. Jaskier pulls a few of the nicest scraps of velvet leftover from re-trimming Sexy’s case a few weeks ago and layers them atop his tiny Witcher. He runs the tip of his finger up and down his companion’s tiny, delicate spine with the utmost care and focus.

As Geralt slips into a relaxed and heavy sleep he thinks: I’m not sure Yen will be able to break the curse after all, Jaskier; but how do I tell you how I feel without losing you completely?

---

Jaskier appears back in the room the next morning at dawn, having already gone and gathered up a large silver punch bowl and some other odds-and-ends. Mostly sewing supplies, it looks like. He pours a pitcherful of steaming hot water into the silver dish and gives his companion a sincere apology, “Sorry, Geralt, but this was the closest I could find to a fairy-sized bathtub. Here’s a sliver of my almond soap. I hope it doesn't smell too strongly. Uhm...yeah. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Geralt looks between Jaskier and the ‘tub’ he’s been offered. “I won’t be able to get out by myself.”

“Huh?”

“I can climb up just fine but don’t think I’ll be able to get out of this thing without some assistance,” the Witcher clarifies. Jaskier blushes furiously Geralt cannot fathom why. They’ve seen each other (and other people, he imagines) in their bare skin plenty of times. Usually the bard went about his usual business but now he looked like a deer caught in the light of a hunter’s disorienting lantern.

“Do you need my help?”

“...Yes. If you don’t mind, of course. I’m afraid I might slip and fall headfirst off the table. Otherwise, if you don’t mind dampening a cloth, I’ll just wipe myself down in my smalls and consider it done with.”

“Oh no,” Jaskier insists. “I didn’t make up the world’s weirdest lie about moonlight druid rituals to borrow this ornate punch bowl bathtub for you, my little Witcher.”

“Fine. But turn away while I undress.”

Jaskier does, but wonders why. Geralt has never asked him to look away before. Has he offended the Witcher somehow? He hears a quiet, contented sigh and turns back to see that Geralt has managed to clamber his way into the punch bowl just fine. “Would you like me to wash your hair?”

“You’re likely to squish me.”

“You’re probably right,” Jaskier sighs. He moves across the room and lays back down on the bed, curled in around himself with his back to Geralt. “Call when you’re ready to be lifted out. Don’t want you slipping and dying doing something silly.”

“Hmm. Thank you again, Jaskier.

“Of course, dear heart. Anything for you.”

---

When Geralt has been dried and dressed in the new, somewhat clumsy nightshirt Jaskier sewed for him, the bard lays him back down on the pillow.

“Goodnight, little Witcher.”

“Hey!”

Jaskier smirks and covers Geralt up with his many layers of soft velvet.

“Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

And if Geralt feels truly and unarguably safe for the first time in years, tucked in tightly and wrapped with scraps of material that smell so sweetly of his bard, then that’s nobody’s business but his.

#geraskier fic #geraskier ficlet #geraskier cuteness #soft #cursed geralt #magic spells #magical accidents #shrunken geralt #tiny geralt #geralt gets shrunk oops #honey i shrunk the witcher #geraskier #true love's kiss #romance #caring jaskier #protective jaskier #look a bath scene #bouncey's endless au collection

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