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justsomegalwhoshere · 3 years

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Daddy’s Small Hero

Note: I’m back with another dad Bakugou fic bitches 😎 this time it’s Baku with an absolute chonk of a baby. Again, this entire thing was inspired by @hanji-is-life and the people who sent the amazing asks there. I can’t stop, they’re so good 😩 also idk how fast a baby’s development is. My little sister was a baby but that’s was 11 years ago- Criticism is welcome as always.

Warnings: cursing cuz bakugou, but just fluff overall. Not prof read

‘Had to go to the hospital quickly for an appointment! Katsumi and Sakura are at school already. Take Katsuo with you to the agency please!

-Y/N <3’

Bakugou sighed as he put down the note and headed to the living room where his son was. He woke up and was surprised to see you weren’t there in bed with him, and was only even more surprised he saw his son was awake in his playpen doing his thing. After finding the note tacked on the fridge however, he understood the situation.

Bakugou looked into the playpen and smiled. His son Katsuo. He looked exactly like his dad, ash blonde hair, red eyes, and an absolute monster of a baby. It’s not that he cried a lot, in fact he hardly cried at all. He was just extremely chunky. He was in 6 month clothes at 3 months old. He was a chunky baby, a chubby tummy and rolls on his arms and legs. Hell, he even had rolls for knees! He was currently in toddler clothes at 10 months old and was trying to shove his fat fist in his mouth. He took notice of his dad and started making grabby hands up at him.

Bakugou chuckled. “Hey squirt, ready to start the day?” His son gurgled.

Bakugou lifted his son up with a soft grunt. “Jesus, did you grow overnight? You get heavier every day.” His baby slapped a drool covered hand on bakugou’s cheek. “..I deserved that.”

After strapping on the baby carrier and putting Katsuo in front of chest, he began making breakfast. Starting with Katsuo’s. Sure, it was time consuming making breakfast for his infant son, but he refused to let him eat that processed shit from the store. Bakugou placed a strawberry and a banana on the counter. He wasn’t sure why he did this, but he let his son choose what fruit he wanted in his breakfast. He read somewhere it was good for development. “K, choose one brat,” he said softly. Katsuo stared before grabbing at the strawberry. “Good choice,” Bakugou responded before dropping a few strawberries in the blender and starting his breakfast. The entire time, he stirred up conversation with Katsuo.

“So what did you dream about last night?”

“Da!”

“You fought Endeavour himself and won?”

“Ba-da-ba!”

“No shit, what did you do after?”

“Baaab.”

“Nice. I’ll make note of that the next time I train then.”

…

After a quick breakfast and a diaper change, Katsuki made his way to the agency, baby bag in hand. It should be ok to take Katsuo today. All he had was paperwork and an interview. Katsuki didn’t want just ANYONE working for him. He needed to make sure those who were hired were reliable people. Bakugou stopped in front of the building and addressed his son in the harness, “this is where daddy works. He runs his own agency. Isn’t that cool?” Katsuo blew a little raspberry.

Almost all eyes were on Bakugou as he entered the building. They went from neutral to confused seeing a drooly baby harnessed on the pro hero’s chest, and even more confused seeing a baby bag in hand.

Ignoring all the prying eyes, Bakugou approached Kirishima, who also was gawking at the baby in the harness.

“What? It’s not a fucking alien, get a hold of yourself.” Kirishima’s eyes snapped back up and looked at Bakugou. He put a hand behind his head sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m just not used to seeing you with your son that often.”

“Hah!? Are you calling me a terrible dad?” Bakugou questioned as his eyebrows furrowed more.

“No! Just drop it, look the candidate for receptionist is already with the interviewer. Just make it quick, ok? And don’t send them running away in tears!” Kirishima called out as Bakugou grunted and walked towards his office. Bakugou stopped in front of his office door and addressed his son once again,

“This is daddy’s office. You excited to step inside?”

“Aa!”

“Well, today I am too.” Bakugou opened the door and saw some interviewer extra behind his desk and a female sitting across from it.

“Ah, you’re here Mr. Bakugou! Please, take a seat!” The interviewer chirped. Bakugou sat down in a chair on the side of the desk and unclasped the harness. He set Katsuo on a sitting position on the desk and dumped some toys there for his son. Katsuo took a chunky plastic block and immediately began to chew on it.

The female blinked. “Umm… is the baby staying here the entire time?”

Bakugou growled lowly. “He has a fucking name. It’s Katsuo. And yes, he is. That a fucking problem?”

“N-no, im sorry sir,” she replied as Katsuo cooed.

“Let’s get this started. What’s your name?” Bakugou said, calming down.

The female cleared her throat. “Akane, sir.”

The interview went along fairly smoothly, Akane answered the questions well and seemed reliable enough to work here, Bakugou noted as he played a bit with Katsuo. Still, Bakugou needed more convincing. He didn’t need another receptionist crying into his coffee cup in the mornings. The more the interview progressed, the more impatient Bakugou became.

“Can we hurry this shit up? It’s almost tummy time for Katsuo!” Bakugou barked. Both Akane and the interviewer jumped at the sudden outburst.

“Sorry Dynamight sir, just one more question and we’ll be done here.”

Bakugou huffed and put Katsuo on his lap, who was trying to shove the block in Bakugou’s face. He chuckled. “Stop that shit, that’s fucking gross, wasn’t it in your mouth?” Katsuo gurgled in response, still shoving the drool covered block in his dad’s face. Akane was distracted at this display. Dynamight, the number 2 pro hero, softening for someone? She didn’t think it was possible. Bakugou looked back up, scowling as he realized no one was talking. “The fuck are you looking at?” He growled at Akane.

Akane yelped and cleared her throat. “N-nothing! Just- just looking around” she said hurriedly as she straightened herself.

Bakugou squinted his eyes and looked down at his son. “What do you think of her, Katsuo?”

Katsuo was currently transfixed on shoving two chubby fingers in his own mouth. Once he finally did babble again, he slapped his thighs while bouncing up and down, making “da” sounds over and over. Akane thought the display was cute before Bakugou spoke up again.

“My son says you’re a terrible liar and that you’re on thin fucking ice.”

Akane shivered a bit. She was going to be here a while longer, wasn’t she?

…

A few more exchanges like that back and forth (Katsuo cooing and bakugou interpreting as a a threat), the interview finally ended.

Akane slumped on the wall outside the door and slowly sat herself down. God, that went terribly! She kept getting distracted by the baby! There was no way she was getting this job! She blew it-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched laugh. Akane registered it was coming from the office. Silently, she got up and peered through the door, which was slightly ajar.

Bakugou was blowing raspberries on his baby’s stomach while Katsuo laughed hysterically. Akane stood there dumbfounded. She never thought Bakugou was the fatherly type. Bakugou kept doing this and laughed along with the baby until he put them down in a sitting position. “Alright brat, it’s tummy time,” he grumbled as he spread a blanket on the desk and laid his son down on the blanket, back facing the ceiling. His son thrashed his limbs around a bit before calming down. Bakugou chuckled and pulled a couple toys out of his bag and settled them around Katsuo. His son tried moving around to grab the toys, cooing all the while.

Akane left before she was noticed. She was confused by this secret side of Bakugou.

…

Despite her doubtful thoughts earlier, Akane managed to land the job as the receptionist at Bakugou’s agency. She liked talking to the people she met everyday, and even met his wife a couple times.

Akane was typing away and noticed someone approaching from the corner of her eye.

“Hello, Mrs. Bakugou! How are you?”

You looked at Akane and smiled, carrying your son. “I’m just fine, thank you! I’m just wondering where Katsuki is!”

“Right here,” a gruff voice responded. Both females turned around and saw the hero approaching both of them.

You gave your husband a kiss and handed him Katsuo and a box wrapped in cloth.

“You forgot your lunch again, I’m starting to believe you’re doing it on purpose” you scolded.

Bakugou laughed and pecked your cheek. “I might start doing it intentionally if I get to see my beautiful wife and son more often at work.”

Akane observed this exchange before Katsuo turned his head towards her, looking at her with wide red eyes and made grabby hands that Bakugou paid no kind to. Akane, however, shivered and turned back towards the computer, typing more feverishly. Those red eyes that looked exactly like his father’s creeped her out ever since that interview. Sure, Katsuo was adorable, but what came out of his mouth was scary.

#bakugou #mha x reader #dad bakugou #fluff #domestic dad bakugou #domestic bakugou #not really but still #chubby baby #mha #bakugou is a little shit #but we love him #idk how to tag help

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deliriousgeek · 3 years

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Thomas Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: A quiet evening meant for celebration is thrown into chaos. Y/n wills herself to play into the daunting role that comes with being Thomas Shelby’s wife, because it might be the only thing keeping her alive.

Masterlist

Tommy lowkey feels very oc so idk how to feel about that. im not good at writing suspense...its also very long. ha :,)

Warning: blood, guns, knives, fights, usual peaky blinder violence

If anyone knew Y/n Shelby, then they would know that she can’t stand seeing dead bodies. Although in her case, having that reaction would seem ironic, considering her husband was Thomas Shelby.

It was around 9pm when Y/n slipped her night robe off and lay back on her bed. Her night was just winding down and she was waiting for Thomas to get back. He said he would try to be home around midnight, and to not wait up. He and his brothers would be at the Garrison, celebrating Arthur’s return from prison and discussing what was to be done with the Jews and Italians next.

Y/n knew it would be a couple hours for Tommy to be home, so she settled onto their bed and grabbed a book off her night stand.

The room was bathed in a warm, orange and yellow light— the type of light candles can give. When she was home alone, Y/n liked to use candle light. It reminded her of a time before the war and before this gang business, when all she and Tommy had to worry about was getting enough candles to light up the dinner table.

Half an hour had passed and Y/n had gotten through a decent number of pages in her book. She felt her eyes drooping and decided it was time to call it a night. She stretched and cracked her neck before turning to place her book on the nightstand. Just as she was about to place the book down, she heard a creak downstairs.

She froze.

Tommy wasn’t supposed to be back until midnight and none of the Shelby family would come over this late without a call, that was their safety protocol.

She listened for more creaking.

After Tommy had bought their house he had insisted on replacing the creaky floor boards, but decided to keep a few. In certain spots, that could be easily avoided if one knew where to walk, the floor would still creak. It was a safety thing that Tommy and Y/n agreed would be good to have. If the floorboards downstairs still creaked after the first step, it wasn’t one of them.

Creak...creak...creak...

That wasn’t Tommy.

Y/n took in a deep breath as she put herself back into a sitting position on the bed. An intruder was in her house. At the moment, the Peaky Blinders had a lot of enemies. It could be anyone. Mostly, someone with a gun.

She listened as the person made their way upstairs. She could hear them passing Tommy’s office, and the guest bedroom. This person knew where their room was, and she could only deduce from their movement’s that they were coming for her.

Y/n was scared. She knew how to defend herself, but didn’t like doing it if she didn’t have to. Rolling her shoulders, she prepared herself for the inevitable. She’d have to fight tonight.

To be clear, Y/n Shelby wasn’t unable to fight. She was a pro at throwing knives, which she preferred to guns; much to Tommy’s dismay. She knew how to shoot a gun and could decently fare in hand to hand combat, but she was still scared. Her heart beat in her chest quickly and anxiety bubbled to the surface. A normal reaction to knowing someone broke into your house to hurt you, or worse. Y/n assumed it was the latter. However, instead of letting her fear show, she turned on her fake calmness. A trick she forced herself to learn as Thomas Shelby’s wife. The alarm that was spread across her face vanished, instead being replaced with an eerily calm facade.

There was no point in locking the door. The person knew how to get past those if he made it into their living room. She heard their steps stop at the front of her door, she raised her book to her face, pretending like she was reading.

Act calm. She told herself.

Then, the door burst open.

Back at the pub, the Shelby brothers were sitting around the table in the snug. Sharing laughs and taking on their third round of Whiskey.

“Alright boys,” Tommy began, placing his glass down and looking around the table. “We’ve had our fun, business begins now.” His content expression turned serious.

His other brothers, and cousin Michael, cleared their throats and straightened up.

“As you know, taking Arthur out of prison is a direct threat to the Sabini’s. It shows that even in London we have enough influence to get our own men out, if needed.”

The brothers nodded, and shared looks.

Tommy continued, “Getting Arthur out was our first move. Now it’s the Italian’s and the Jew’s turn but we don’t know when their next strike will be. So, from this moment on we have to be aware, alert, and ready for every—”

The door flew open.

Sir!” Out of breath, Isaiah stood with one hand on the door knob, looking at Tommy.

“Oi!” Arthur shouted. “You know better than to interrupt!”

Tommy nodded his head at Arthur, then turned to Isaiah. “What is it, lad.”

“Better be important,” John added.

“Sir, the Italians are here. My dad spotted them making their way down the lane. They got a group with guns and a car. We best hurry.” Isaiah said in a rushed voice.

With that all the Shelby men stood and placed their caps on, rushing out of the snug.

Upon noticing the urgency in which the brothers exited, the rest of the Peaky Blinders in the pub were at full alert, waiting for Tom’s next words. The crowd silenced as the brothers stood at the snug doors, facing the onlookers.

“If you aren’t a Peaky Blinder,” Tom eyed the crowd, “leave.”

Noise filled the bar again as chairs shuffled, cups were placed on tables, and the front doors opened and closed.

Tom didn’t speak again until there were only Peaky Blinders left. He pulled out his revolver and checked it, making sure there were bullets, before looking up again.

“Battle formation, men. The Italians are here.”

Then in a flurry of peaky hats and over coats, the rest of the men got into their positions. Some ran up the stairs to get the extra cases of shotguns and revolvers. Others pulled out their own handguns and checked them as well. The Shelby boys looked at each other, a silent way of saying ‘good luck’.

Once Tommy deemed every one armed, he nodded to Arthur, who shouted to move out.

The Shelbies were at the front, while everyone fell behind them in triangle formation. As they marched outside, they could see the group of Italians rounding the corner.

It was rather intimidating. An outline of men and guns on shoulders, a rather sizable group at that, illuminated by the truck headlights that followed behind. It was a sight to see.

Darby Sabini stood at the front, a shotgun slung over his shoulder.

As the groups marched towards each other and came to a stop, a man behind Thomas called out to the front. “At your command Sergeant Major.”

A hushed tone of agreement spread throughout the group.

Darby stepped forward. “Thought you could come on our turf and get away with it, aye?”

Tommy stepped forward as well, hands in his pockets. “It was meant as a friendly gesture, but I don’t think you have enough friends to know what that means.”

A small smirk made its way onto Tommy’s face as he stared Darby down.

Darby narrowed his eyes, irritated at that remark. “I’ll show you what friendly means. Now!”

A hail of gunfire began and the sound of shots being fired filled the lane. It was chaos. Bullets flew and body’s fell. Punches were thrown and blood was spread. More men jumped out of the covered truck and ran to beat down the men on the other side.

Tommy ducked and punched, kicked and shot. In the middle of punching a man in the gut he yelled, “Leave Darby for me!”

His men did just that.

Thomas fought his way to the center of the fight, where Darby had just knocked out a Peaky Blinder. Tommy aimed his gun and walked forward, aiming at Darby. The fighting on both sides ceased.

“I didn’t bring a battalion to your town.” Tommy spoke clearly, in a raised voice.

Darby aimed his gun as well. The two circled each other as men on both sides stopped to observe the interaction. They watched Tommy and Darby tread carefully, like two tentative predators waiting for their opposer to falter.

“You still showed up. That was enough.”

The two men were breathing heavily, a result from the brawls they just finished.

“What’s your purpose for being here, Sabini?” Thomas stopped pacing, his gun still firmly held up.

Darby stopped as well. An obnoxious laugh left his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Tommy didn’t move. He held a blank face, but his eyes still watched Darby with intensity.

Not waiting for a response Darby continued, “I’m reminding you that I can take away everything you have in an instant. I already put your brother in jail, which it seems wasn’t a good enough warning for you, since you stupidly had him released so quickly.”

Darby took a couple steps toward Thomas, gun raised.

“Killing me won’t do anything. I got people in place to still ruin you.” Thomas stated, his tone flat.

Darby lowered his gun, a sickly calm smile spread across his face. It was an unsettling sight that made Tommy begin to think something was off.

“Oh Tommy boy, I’m just the distraction,” Darby’s eyes noticeably darkened, “How’s your wife these days?”

Tommy’s eyes widened and his finger pulled the trigger.

Darby fell to the ground dead, a bullet was lodged in the center of his forehead.

Then like a wave, the fighting began again.

As soon as the gunshot rang, Tommy saw red. He shot, punched, kicked or swung at anyone in his way as he fought to get out of the crowd. He didn’t bother shouting an explanation to his brothers as he ran to his car.

Tommy shoved his keys into the ignition and started the car. Tommy slammed his foot on the gas as soon as the engine roared to life. The car’s lights illuminated the carnage left from the battle. The Peaky Blinders were the last ones standing, as Tommy expected, but paid no mind to. His thoughts too consumed with conjuring the hundreds of horrible possibilities he might see upon arriving home, all ending with a bloodied image of Y/n.

John and Arthur ran towards the car, causing Thomas to slam on the breaks.

“Where are you going?” John asked urgently.

“They’re going for Y/n.” Thomas hastily replied.

John and Arthur jumped on the side of the car just in time before Tommy could speed up again.

Michael and Finn watched as the older Shelby boys passed them.

“Great. So we’re left to clean up the mess.”

At the house, Y/n held her book to her face as the door burst open. She turned her head and was met with the sight of a man pointing a gun at her. His clothes were clean and he looked very young. Her eyes flitted from the gun to his shoes, then to his eyes, then back to the gun.

“On your feet.” He demanded.

“What?” Y/n feigned innocence, despite her struggle to keep calm.

The man, gun still held towards her, trudged over and ripped the book from her hands, throwing it onto the floor.

“I said on your feet!” He yelled in her face, backing away so he was a few feet from the bed.

She stared into his eyes, an impassive look on her face. Y/n looked back down at the gun.

With a purse of her lips and a shrug she stated, “I’d rather not.”

The man’s soldier esc demeanor nearly slipped at her blatant defiance of his orders. “It’s not an option lady! Get up.”

She chuckled. “Y’see, lad. I’ve been on my feet all day. Have you ever worn heels for over six hours? Rather painful you know.”

Her cocky attitude betrayed her quickly beating heart that was full of adrenaline.

In an effort to scare her, he menacingly stepped forward. “I ain’t afraid to hurt you lady, but the boss wants you alive. If you keep disobeying me, I'm allowed to use force.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh really, and who is your boss? I must thank him for not wanting me dead.”

She knew she was playing with her life, but if this boy was as inexperienced as he looked, she would get the information she needed to warn Tommy. Granted, if she got out of this situation.

“Sabini.” The man bluntly answered.

Y/n swallowed. This wasn’t good. If Sabini’s men were here and not in London, she needed to warn Thomas immediately. Her heart pumped faster than she thought possible and every nerve in her body was on the verge of trembling from fear.

“I see.” Y/n turned her head to the foot of the bed. “Well, like I said, I’d rather not get up. Matter of fact, I’d rather keep reading. So be a dear and hand me my book, would ya?” She was stalling.

“C’mon lady, stop being stubborn. You don't even got a weapon to be making these demands.” The man sneered.

Y/n slowly adjusted herself so that she scooted away from the pillows that propped her up. She straightened her legs on the bed, her left crossed over her right. Then she leaned back on her arms, purposely pushing up her chest to show off her unbinded chest. Hopefully, he’d be dumb enough to look at her distraction, and he was.

“Ah, well. It was worth a shot. I can tell that you're new to this whole— kidnapping thing. If you want to get better at it then you should learn this.” She paused before looking back at the man, “Always do research on your target.”

The young man’s brows furrowed, obviously confused.

“If you did your research, like a good little gangster,” She began as she slid her left leg up off her right, causing her silk nightgown to slowly expose her leg. The man’s eyes roamed her leg once she stopped moving, leaving her left leg in a bent position. She reached for the hem of the dress and raised it further up her left leg, stopping until it got to her mid thigh, “Then you would know, that I’m always armed.”

In a swift and well practiced motion, Y/n grabbed the sharp, throwing knife from her thigh holster, and threw. The knife landed in the man’s chest, in his heart. Looking down at the knife, the man stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling onto his back. Blood quickly formed a growing splotch of red on his shirt. Y/n quickly stood from the bed to remove the gun from the man’s hand, she then crouched over him.

She placed her hand on the knife handle, “It was a shame you didn’t do your research.” Then she pushed the knife forward, until she felt through the blade that it had really punctured his heart.

Y/n stood over the man’s body, gun in her hand, and watched the blood puddle grow. She backed away until her knees hit the bed and gave way. Letting out a shaky breath, she sat with the gun in her lap. In an attempt to avoid looking at the body laid in front of her, Y/n stared at the ceiling.

The adrenaline began to wear off, and the reality of the situation dawned on her. She could have died, quite easily too. If her attacker had not been so inexperienced and if she wasn’t wanted brought back alive, she could have died. Then, she thought of her husband.

Tommy.

Had the man lying dead on her carpet opened the door and shot, Tommy would have had to come home to her dead body instead. The thought of Tommy finding her body, cold and bloody, scared her more than death. She couldn’t imagine the pain of him being alone. He would blame himself for her death. He would say he couldn’t protect her, and he would loathe himself for the rest of his life. Tears began to prick her eyes and her throat tightened. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to go away and for her erratic heart beat to calm down.

She killed a man.

That’s the only thought she could process. Her emotions muddled her thinking. Never before had she used her knives to kill. She used guns, from far away. She used punches to knock people out. She used her knives to injure, but never before had she needed them to kill. She was slightly glad for the memory of Tommy coming back home from an errand, returning with the thin knife holster that he insisted she wear when he wasn’t home. She was also glad that she made it a rule for herself to never take it off unless Tommy was home with her.

Then, the silence of the house was broken again. She flinched. This time, the sound came from the front door slamming open and muffled shouts that she could only register as her name.

“Y/n! Y/n where are you?” The voice shouted.

She couldn’t pinpoint who it was, not in her boggled state of mind, but she knew it was safe. So she answered.

“In the bedroom.”

Her eyes were still shut and her head faced the ceiling when Tommy rushed in.

“Y/n.” His voice was slightly breathless as he took in the sight before him.

The room was covered in warm, candle light, giving a complete opposite tone to the tense atmosphere. His wife sat on the bed with a gun in her lap. A man, with his wife’s knife in his chest, laid dead on the ground and a puddle of blood surrounded his wound.

Y/n opened her eyes and looked at her husband. She could see the fear and worry that filled his eyes, his face in slight shock.

Thomas was relieved to see his wife unharmed, but he could see the tears that were threatening to fall. Her slumped shoulders were signs of exhaustion. The way her chest moved up and down with heavy breathes told him she was on the verge of holding herself together.

Arthur and John came bounding up the stairs next, and found their places on either side of Thomas.

Y/n’s voice came out void of emotion, but her teary eyes said it all. “One of Sabini’s men.” She stated before turning her eyes to the ceiling once more, trying to blink away tears. “Please get him out of my sight.” The growing puddle of blood made her want to throw up.

“You heard her,” Thomas said in a low tone, staring at his wife with concerned eyes. “Get rid of ‘em.” His voice was just above a whisper.

Arthur and John stepped forward, grabbing the man by his arms and lugged him out of the room. Only once the man had been removed did Thomas walk towards his wife. Only when he wrapped his arms around her did she let herself cry. She let herself sob and express how truly scared she was when the man burst into her room, and pointed a gun to her head.

Thomas held her close and kissed her head. He whispered in her ear that she was okay, and that she did what she needed to do. Holding her close, he told her he loved her, and promised to never let anything like that happen to her again.

Masterlist

well I tried

Edit: Bro this blew up in less than a day with 41 notes. Thank you♡

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x wife reader #thomas shelby x wife reader #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby wife imagine #thomas shelby x hurt reader #thomas shelby x reader protect #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby wife imagine

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shotorozu · 3 years

Note

BABE , i saw a hc ( i think it was urs) where the boys’s s/o was really fashionable, ( as somebody that’s gone viral on pinterest a little too many times ) I WAS WONDERING , what if you did a todobakudeku ( separately please omg) with somebody that’s like the emma chamberlain of fashion and they own everybody’s pinterest boards and stuff AHAHA IDK , the amount of times somebody has said ‘ wait ur that one pinterest girl right?? ‘ ANYWHAHEEIE I LOVE YOU N HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! 💗💗

pinterest famous s/o

character(s) : midoriya izuku, bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, they/them pronouns (at the request of anon) strong quirk hinted; not specific

headcanon type : fluff, crack-ish (x reader)

note(s) : thank you anon!! so ok, i still used they/them pronouns even though the reader is afab (again at the request of anon) and whdjwkd sorry for the inactivity :,) also im gonna post more later so— sorry for the delay

»»————-　♡　————-««

midoriya izuku

when middle school midoriya finally got a phone, he downloaded pinterest for the sole purpose of looking at screencaps of heroes

but then, he hasn’t touched it a few months, because he’s been training with all might

then, when he finally had enough free time again— he decided to go on pinterest

but instead of finding any heroes he could look at, he found the prettiest human being he has ever seen in his entire life 💀

that person was a different type of beauty, y’know— they weren’t just fashionable, but their beauty was,,

timeless? that’s how he’d describe it. yeah. that person lived in his head rent free for a while

sadly, he feels like you’re that person he sees once in his life, and never again 😔　which isn’t the case

when he finally meets you, midoriya realizes that you look VERY familiar— someone on pinterest, that he unfortunately, didn’t know the name of

but then wait! he realizes that you’re that person. that one person that blew up on pinterest, and ended up in all of the fashion boards.

okay, you’ve been recognized a few times in the past, just because you were pinterest famous— but you didn’t expect him to recognize you

“wait,, you know me?” you asked him when you saw the realization sink in

and you were honestly,, flattered when he went on a tangent on how you were on all of the pinterest boards, and how your sense of fashion was timeless

but you know what’s the best thing of it all? when izuku developed a crush on you (and not because he thought you were just an attractive face)

it was very easy to find pictures of you online! he says it’s for research but,, he tends to look at them for a long time

probably has 3-4 pages dedicated to your hero costume— since fashion icon = fashionable, yet a very practical hero costume!

does he get jealous whenever people fawn over your looks, or whenever he sees comments in pinterest comment sections just asking for your socials in such desperation?

hmm,, yes? he does occasionally feel like someone like you, should be with someone as equally beautiful as you

he thought he was always plain looking, but you wholeheartedly disagree! in fact, you fell in love with his ability to pay attention to detail.

to the random creeps in the comments section, he just contacts the uploader and asks them to delete any malicious comments and it works 100% of them time.

on the brighter side, he helps a lot with taking your pictures (if you ask him to) and sometimes! he’ll even appear in them

izuku will always be your #1 fan!

bakugou katsuki

at first, you’d be like “katsuki owning pinterest? naaah.” but! i think he would

being an all might fan, he liked looking at all might screen caps— and while katsuki would be on the discreet side, he’d find himself looking at them whenever he has extra minutes to burn

not to mention, the cooking recipes on there aren’t the worst, so he doesn’t just use pinterest to look at screen caps of heroes doing their work

and, how could he forget that you’ve been bugging him to search for rare screen caps? he says that it’s useless— but he finds himself digging for you anyway,

which is whyyy

he finds an entirely different rabbit hole, and it’s way past 10pm, 3 more minutes wouldn’t wound him.

the blond doesn’t know how he even stumbled on.. this side of pinterest. the one that kind of hurts his eyes.

the more well known side of pinterest, that is covered in pictures of fashion boards, and the standard pretty person.

the ‘aesthetic’ side, kaminari calls it— it makes bakugou cringe, and he was just about to refresh his page

when he spots something familiar, it’s you‼️ well it wasn’t just you but, you were dressed in something,, nice.

like sure! you’re attractive. but that’s not why he’s dating you, there’s a lot of reasons as to why

but, he’s baffled. seeing you in a different light, and in such nice clothing, what more, when he sees that you’re actually everywhere. he hasn’t seen this much of you and your attractive ass before

katsuki told himself that he was going to sleep a few minutes ago, but now? he’s left admiring all of your pictures.

how did he not know that his s/o’s pinterest famous? you’re practically in every single board!

he confronts you the next day in an oddly weird manner, “you didn’t tell me you were famous on that stupid pinterest app.”

you’re sheepish, “welll, i didn’t know that you were going to stumble on that side of pinterest!”

he doesn’t say anything, and really! it looks like he doesn’t care about the newest discovery of his s/o

but he shows his feelings in his own way.

like, how katsuki insists that he finds a new outfit that you’d absolutely love— one that’ll fit with your aesthetic

and that he insists that he does your graphic liner, because you’re going to ‘poke your eyes out’

makes an entirely different account to reply to those simps and creeps in the comment section, sort of like

random pinterest user : “the things i’ll do to be crushed by them 💦”

pinterestuser461903 : “go touch some fucking grass.”

also would’ve commented “your art sucks” at the poorly done drawings of you in the comments, but knows you appreciated the art— so he doesn’t

(still thinks the fanart doesn’t do you enough justice)

he’ll be super proud when someone notices you in person like “yeah that’s fucking right, but too bad they’re super attractive and way out of your league.”

in short, it looks like katsuki doesn’t care at all about your pinterest famous life, but he’s your #1 supporter

todoroki shouto

i am certain for this one— he doesn’t have pinterest

well, he didn’t have pinterest, until midoriya convinced him to create an account, but it kinda just ended at that

but the person that actually made him use pinterest was sero, because he kept bugging him to give it a try

todoroki finds the app very practical— he can find screen caps of heroes in action, and he can also find oddly helpful tips in cooking (and in anything)

but sero was like “todoroki, what about the aesthetic value??” and todoroki didn’t really get that part to be honest 💀

todoroki, being clueless didn’t know what to search for— so sero being the wonderful friend he is, helped him search for it

and that’s when it happened. it didn’t take that long, but they eventually found an entire section just full of pictures of you; their classmate and crush

“is that Y/N?” mina notices what they’re looking at, and she observes the picture “oh wow— it is her! no wonder why she looked familiar.”

“it’s impressive! our classmate is pinterest famous!” they continue to look at every single post in each board, and todoroki’s left to observe in silence

he has definitely taken a liking to you, even if he didn’t realize it at first— he liked you because of your hard work when it came to training, personality and patience, not because of your looks

obviously, todoroki thinks that you look good in anything, trashbag style or not. but seeing you in this light was interesting.

so after training, todoroki would spent a good portion of his time scavenging for more pictures— not because he was obsessed or anything

but because,, he really liked your pictures. maybe it was because without you in those pictures, it would feel incomplete

he didn’t know how to approach you after this discovery, which is why he’s glad that you approached him first

“todoroki! what are you looking at?” you took a peak at his screen, and you’re baffled to see yourself, and that very famous picture of you

he’s quiet for a second when he realizes that you’ve caught him staring at your pictures, but he explains calmly, “sero accidentally discovered your pictures,, and i just wanted to take a peak at them, if it was okay,,”

and he’s relieved— well, you’re also relieved. you didn’t know how your crush would react if he ever saw those pictures, but your heart skipped a beat knowing that he enjoyed looking at them

“it’s alright todoroki,” you smile, honestly over the moon as you spoke “i’m really glad that you like them.”

sometimes you’d get shy whenever he’d go on pinterest just to look at your pictures, “todoroki, not that one! that one was really old,,” is what you’d say whenever he’d look at your older photos but he’d still look at them anyway 💀

at first, todoroki helped you in his own subtle way. since he’s quite the fashion icon— he’d recommend you clothes to wear for future pictures

he eventually confessed— and it was because you were talking to him while he was really tired, and he blurted out that he really, really liked you and you almost passed away because of his words

so yeah— it was a case of secretly admiring their beautiful best friend to lovers scenario

he’d go the full mile when it came to taking your pictures. he’d check the weather forecast just in case if it was going to rain for that date, and impromptu picnic photoshoot

that boyfriend that has pictures of you in his photo gallery, and has a backstory for each photo if anyone were to ask

also that boyfriend that knows how to take pictures, will probably even lay down to take them, even if you didn’t kindly ask him to

when you asked him to join the picture, he didn’t really know how to— but he made it work! and the both of you guys went viral

but this isn’t all one sided, no— whenever you guys would cuddle, shouto would simply stare at you with HEARTS in his eyes,

and even before he leans in for a kiss, he’ll stare at you with so much love in his eyes, while he traces his thumb across your cheekbones. man’s in love— you’re gorgeous.

he knows that you know that he’s not with you because of any ulterior motive, you both have mutual trust in each other— so it’s not something you guys will bother on questioning because you’re both hot asf lets be real

he’s not uncomfortable whenever people gawk at you in public— i mean, you two get stares on the regular. and how could they not stare at you? you’re very attractive, and he’s glad that people recognize that

but he’ll get protective if they’ll try to be a threat to your loving relationship with him, he won’t be afraid to be blunt

regarding the comments on each pinterest post— he hates it when people say things out of the line

always tries to hide them from you so you don’t feel bothered by them, but if you knew about them— he’ll be sad :,(

but he’ll end up mass reporting those nasty comments— and they always get taken down, because of the shouto todoroki luck

in short? man’s whipped, and the both of you guys are SO attractive together— what more if people knew about the om chemistry?

really— you being pinterest famous was just a nice plus, he fell in love with you for you

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

537 notes · View notes

dreamrecorder · 3 years

Note

Ok so- idk if you’ve seen demon slayer;; but there’s this episode (it was during the spider fambam arc) aNywaYs- so like. Rui yeets ties* (i guess-) Nezuko like. Up in the air. With his weird spider thread jazz— and like. It’s sHarP weird spider thread jazz— so she’s like. Yknow. Being sliced and diced with string— but it kindaaa reminds me of like. Xiao. And his like.... weird... sad.... uh. Karma. Thing. Like y’know where he’s like hanging from his arms- red stuff. Yeah. So like. Now for the actual request

Xiao’s s/o (female if you don’t mind;;) gets kidnapped by like— the fatui or smth. And they tie her up like Nezuko :D to be like “lol haha Xiao be all like-” and she’s just. Like. Dying. Slowly. Dripping b l o o d and yknow. All the tea. And Xiao comes to rescue her— and he’s like 0-0 “wait...” and he realizes that’s like- exactly what happens to him- and so. He beats the fatui’s butts saves his s/o, anddddd she like.

Idk. This is where I need your angst expertise ❤️ like- she could d i e. In his arms. And poor Xiao would be so scarred omg poor thing- BUT THE ANGST- but at the same time;;;; the f l u f f of him being able to save her just in time and she was like fighting for him the whole time or whatever and ended up needing him to save her anyways- and then Xiao feeding her almond tofu until she gets better ❤️❤️❤️

IM SORRY THAT WAS SO LONG- im probably going crazy from lack of sleep from reading fics for too long sndndnsnsj

But if you do this,,, BLESS YOUR SOUL I HOPE TO EITHER BALL MY EYES OUT OR SQUEAL FROM THE WHOLESOMENESS-

Anyways.... thank you! Have a stellar day~ ✨❤️

The heart yearns and the wind heard

lmao this ask is so adorable i hope you’d enjoy this ksks

anyway, full Angst train up ahead but there are moments of Fluff too. There are mentions of blood and violence if those are not your thing- dont worry guys, this goes with a happy ending cos you and Xiao deserve one~ on a final note- non canon compliant and suuuuuuper long- like- legit this is very long

The Yaksha sighs.

He’s here again. His mind and heart has returned his being into this crimson world his demons have created within him.

He feels it. He feels the corruption binding him tighter again for every death he brings by his tainted hands.

He looks at his bindings. And ever so slowly, the red and black coiling around his person will eventually reach his heart.

One day, he thinks, all this crimson and black in this world will swallow him whole and he will see the light no more.

Xiao sighs again.

This is his karmic debt.

The moment you stepped foot within Wangshu Inn, you knew he was in his prison again. After giving a quick greeting to the inn keeper, you hastily went to Xiao’s room. The closer you got, the heavier the atmosphere became.

You reached his door and knocked softly. As expected, no reply as he continues to struggle to take back his control over himself. Without hesitation, you stepped in. To anyone else, they would have instantly met his spear at their throats, but with you, this doesn’t happen. Instead, you see him crouched on the wooden floor with a hand on his chest. His knuckles were white and his breathing was ragged. His amber eyes- lost. Observing his form, yes… his moments of corruption are becoming progressively worse.

With swift steps of familiarity to this routine, you went to him and grasped his shoulders.

“Xiao, it’s me…” You whispered with clarity. And oh- how your voice brought a wave of comfort to his soul.

“N-name…” His voice cracked, but him calling to you is always a good sign.

You gave him a small smile and proceeded to grasp his hands together with yours. After which, you then leaned your forehead to his to chant your prayers. As your prayers progressed, slowly but surely, the corruption begins to fade along with the black mist that covered him. However, you took note how this ritual took longer than the last.

Once everything is done, Xiao just slumped onto your shoulders, still breathing deeply. “How are you feeling?” It was a useless question you asked every time this happens, but you always, always, have to make sure.

Usually, he would mutter a small ‘fine,’ but now- words seemed to have left his mind and all he could muster was an almost-unnoticeable shrug.

Truth be told- his response disheartened you, but you did not show it. Instead, you opted to simply encase him in your arms and caress his hair. After all, these are just one of the few, rare moments Xiao would leave himself into your care. Xiao is aware, himself, that his state has been becoming worse and worse. And you both know, that a day would come when he would just attack anyone- friend or foe- without a trace of hesitation. So, just this time- he speaks his feelings.

“Name?”

You answered immediately with a questioning hum.

“What would you do… when I finally lose control over myself?”

It was very subtle, but he felt how your hand stopped caressing his hair for a second, then proceeded to the previous task at hand again. In all honestly, you can never find yourself having an answer to that question. “And why would I ever let that happen to you?” You questioned back, fully aware that you were dodging his question.

Silence surrounded the two of you, unsure on what to do with the sudden heavier atmosphere.

Not wanting to face the cruelty of the world yet, Xiao simply buried himself on the crook of your neck even more. And despite the ghostly sensation of his lips on your skin, you could feel him mouth the words ‘I love you.’

“As long as I’m here,” you whispered, “nothing can hurt you.” And that was the most beautiful lie that the Yaksha has heard, but he was willing to believe all the same.

When word about Fatui diplomats starting a bank reached you, there was a nagging feeling in your head that trouble would bring itself present anytime soon. It was like an itch that wouldn’t get away. And the only way to have that itch gone is to scratch it.

“You are absolutely a fool.” Xiao stated darkly with crossed arms, for once disagreeing with the plans of his master.

“We can never know what their intentions are unless we let them start their bank, no?” Zhongli said as he gazed at the marsh spread beneath him.

The Yaksha only scoffed but said no more.

Building up your courage, you deemed it was your turn to voice out your thoughts, “Um… Rex Lapis, I see your point, but wouldn’t it be best to resolve the problem before it persists into something larger? We all know- All of Teyvat knows, that the Fatui are not to be trusted.”

Your archon offered you a kind smile, “I understand your worries, Name. However, as of the moment, they have not presented themselves as such. If they truly are our enemies, then it would be beneficial for us to know their intentions.”

You frowned deeply at his statement. Seeing you do so, somehow, your archon immediately identified your main concern.

“Is this about the Tianquan assigning you to be her representative for the Fatui?”

The moment those words left his mouth, a growl tore from Xiao’s throat, but he held his tongue.

“Did Ganyu tell you?”

The Archon nodded and you sighed.

“I volunteered, actually.”

And at that point, Xiao vanished into thin hair, but you could still his sense his presence around.

“May I know why?” Zhongli questioned gently.

For a moment, you struggled for words. You didn’t know how to describe this ‘itch’ to him. “At first, it was supposed to be Ganyu, since in the Tianquan’s eyes- Ganyu is an adeptus and she does not know that I am, too. Perhaps she didn’t want to put me in harm’s way, a ‘visionless human’ at the side of a harbinger. After some convincing to Ningguang for my volunteering, I spoke to Ganyu next.

“The adepti are divine beings that walk here in Liyue. I had this feeling that putting a divine next to a power-hungry harbinger would become an issue. I told Ganyu that, since I looked ‘harmless’ and ‘ordinary,’ the harbinger’s interest about the divine would never surface.”

A stretch of silence wrapped around them as Zhongli pondered over your words. “Perhaps, are you also planning to dig out the truth of their arrival?”

You nodded, “I knew you would allow them to stay, so I just took it upon myself to unfurl their secrets.”

“Hmmm… I grant you permission on doing this. However, should trouble arise, do not hesitate to tell us.”

The glare pointed at you was strong. Even without him saying a single word, you could hear his phantom voice in your head speak with such coldness, What are you thinking?

You simply gave him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine, Xiao. I may be a human in mortal eyes, but please do remember that I am also an adeptus, no matter how weak I am.”

Xiao releases a huff, but still sits by your side at the floor of the balcony, letting the moon kiss his skin. “You’re not weak.” He mumbled as he snaked his hand to yours.

To him, you will never be weak. In fact, you were the strongest being he has ever laid his eyes on. Not physically, no. It was you mental and emotional fortitude. Back during the Archon War, he always admired how you kept your head held up high no matter the suffering you have experienced. No matter how much death surrounded you, you still fought. And that strength made you a survivor. During the war, you never failed to help the wounded. Even when someone dies under your care, you held strong for the departed and for those who are left behind. You were a pillar of hope.

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses every knuckle “… Just be careful. If ever you are in trouble do not-“

“Hesitate to call your name.” You finished, beaming at his words.

As someone who used to be a healer and a doctor, you were quite familiar with several mild skin diseases that mortals can suffer from.

If there is an itch, you do not scratch it- for you will only aggravate the area even more.

Now that you’re working alongside the Fatui as the Tianquan’s representative, the itch you kept feeling was only irritated more. Especially whenever you spoke with the Harbinger who goes by the name Childe. And since your work requires you to cooperate with him, you also don’t miss the chance to discover what he hides, should the opportunity presents itself.

Childe… his azure eyes certainly have their… charm to those unaware. However, you knew better. You know he’s capable of drowning you just by his eyes. While he may be a cheerful man, his eyes lack the lustre of joy. The eyes are the windows of the soul, yes? If so, all you see is an unending ocean that you do not want to swim in. The surface may be calm, but the deep is relentless. However, duty bound you are- deep within the ocean, you shall find the secrets the Fatui hides.

Again, another scratch to the itch, but it only irritates you more.

The news of Rex Lapis’s death became the catalyst of you confronting the Harbinger. From Yujeng Terrace all the way to Northland Bank, you ran (with Ningguang’s permission of course). Before you can even open the door to his office, something caught your eye.

It’s faint, but you’re an adeptus. You sensed elemental traces, just smack bang at the middle of the door. You carefully scrutinized the tracings, and fortunately you knew Snezhnayan script. And what you read only made your heart sink.

It’s ready.

With the adeptal arts, you managed to uncover the origins of these elemental tracings.

Scratch.

Without hesitation, you followed these tracings until it led you into some ruins.

Scratch.

Following the tracings further, you find yourself in a dimly lit room. Wary, you summoned your weapon imbued with your element.

Scratch.

Searching the room, you came across several antique boxes. You opened them.

Scratch.

What you saw were familiar. Too familiar. Dimming the room more with your element, you find more Sigils of Permission hanging on the walls and on the ceilings. The energy within them were faint, but with enough numbers, it’s enough to kill a-

“Well, well well, I thought you’d be there mourning for your Archon. But here you are, snooping around someone else’s research material.”

The sound of his voice made you sharply turn your head to him, your stance now more offensive. “What are you planning?” You bit coldly.

The Harbinger hummed a small tune, “Nothing much… But! If you’re really curious, I guess I could tell you.” He hummed some more but you knew he’s not finished. Once he finished his tune, he grinned to you menacingly and the depths in his eyes became even deeper and darker, “After all, I won’t let you leave this place with you knowing my secret~”

There was this one time, Xiao struggled against himself so much, he scratched himself red so that he could anchor himself back to the real world. You remembered how much you cried as he slept in your arms. You never wanted to see him do that again. Seeing him hurt himself also hurt you, too. It was like a stab in the heart, then a twist, and twist some more. A slap in the reality that you might lose him one day.

As he slept, you solemnly observed the wounds he sustained himself to. They were angry red, just like blood.

Now, you, yourself scratched that itch in your head too much into a wound for blood to seep through. You scratched too much and now you have to bleed from it.

You were slipping in and out of consciousness. Sleep was tempting you more and more but you know you have to wake up. You were aware that this is going on for days.

Everything hurts. You remembered how his blades, imbued with the Sigils, weakened you thoroughly. Every slash he brought to your body just drained the energy away from you. But still you had to do something.

He wanted an adeptus- he wanted an adeptus in order for the Sigils to grow stronger both in number and in power.

Now here you are, bound by chains and suspended at the middle of this empty room. These chains were adorned by talismans that drained away your energy. You were bleeding from your wounds of your previous battle.

Drip. Drip. Drip goes the blood and pools on the ground underneath you. The ground, you barely noticed, was lined by Liyuean script which enacts the ritual of the Sigils draining your divine power from your blood.

To the eyes of a sadist- you were a picture perfect in a canvas. A dark room lined by the damned Sigils, glowing an eerie gold. Then there's you with your bloodied clothes and chains. The red pool underneath was casting a red glow on your way, giving you a red shade to your pale skin.

Everything hurts-

And everything was driving you mad.

You can also feel the Overlord of the Vortex feed from your energy through the Sigils. You sensed his lust for power and revenge. You felt his anger and the corruption within him. You felt his hatred and his want to bring death. For days that felt like years, you’ve been battling against that very same god in your head. This battle was not something you shall not lose to and failure is not an option. If you fail here, then Liyue will fall.

This god- he was driving you mad slowly.

If ever you are in trouble, do not hesitate to call my-

You shut the thought from your head. You are not going to call him. You will not speak of him. You will not think of him. You will not call him. Not to this place where his corruption will grow. No. You Will Not Call Him.

If it means that me not calling you will keep you safe from the corrupted remnant of a god- so be it.

Please

However, no matter how much you denied yourself to call his name, no matter how much your heart yearns to be with him- the wind does not ignore the pained sob that left your lips.

Ever since the news of Rex Lapis's death and the visit of the Traveler with a Sigil in his hand- the corruption within him just bloomed into something feral.

The Sigil- there was something wrong about it but Xiao doesn't know what is it that is wrong. Then there's you- where are you? Surely with the news of their Archon's death- it would send you to bring forth a meeting for the adepti to talk this over. But now- for days- you remain not by his side.

With you missing- the demons inside him are slowly taking control over him, taking advantage of his vulnerability for you. For each passing day, it was slow torture for him- The worry bubbling in him was consuming him. He glared at the Sigil between his fingers and not failing to notice how his dark aura covers him once more.

“Traveler,” Xiao called sharply, “What is it you intend to do next?”

To any mere mortal, the look his eyes held were enough to strike fear, but the Traveler stealed themselves- meeting the adeptus’s gaze with an equally serious calm. “I have my suspicions on a certain harbinger and I-”

“Where?” The Yaksha growled.

“In the Golden House.”

Without a word nor warning, Xiao placed a hand on the Traveler’s shoulder and teleported them to the place where the Exuvia is hidden.

To the Traveler, everything happened so quickly as one event led to another. One moment, they were standing among unconscious bodies of the Millelith then the next thing they knew a corrupted and demonic gust of wind flew them away to the side. Regaining back their vision, they could see Alatus’s spear now at Tartaglia’s barrier made of Sigils.

Alatus narrowed his eyes at the floating talismans and began to calculate the flow of this incoming battle with precision and accuracy despite his losing control over himself.

It was a tense minute of sizing each other up, but eventually, Tartaglia has broken the silence with his annoying innocent voice.

“Who would have thought that I’d have the honor of fighting another adeptus of Liyue?”

The question immediately fed the corruption within him, the dark aura exploding at it. He knew that he should not believe in the Harbinger’s words so easily, but the glint in the latter’s eyes held truth. You could be out there, hurting, scared, alone. You could be out there, bleeding out. You could be out there dyi-

His aura exploded once more at the thoughts spreading in his being. With a burst of unspeakable power, Alatus lifted his weapon and pierced the barrier once more, this time breaking it without failure. At the threat, Tartaglia backed away as he donned his mask.

In a similar fashion, Alatus, too donned his mask. “I will ask you once,” the Conqueror of Demons spoke with a deathly calm, “Where is she?”

He should have killed him then and there. But the call of the Overlord of the Vortex must not be ignored as it threatens Liyue.

In the small opportunity of escape, Childe took it. But he was weak and injured as Alatus swiftly threw his spear to block his way and teleported right in front of him. In a show of power, the Conqueror of Demons lifted the mortal by the neck.

“I will ask you again, where is she?”

In fear, Childe told him everything and at his every word, Xiao listened carefully- never speaking once. But the anger within his heart, it boils- it rages. His amber eyes bored into Childe’s soul- thinking what he should do to this mortal. Oh how killing him would be so nice. However, when the Yaksha’s gaze landed on the regal form of the Exuvia, he merely threw the mortal in its way.

“Killing you would have been easier. However, the crimes you have presented against Liyue are not mine for me to judge.

I leave the Harbinger to you... Rex Lapis.”

Once out of the Golden House, the Overlord roared once more, shaking the lands of the nation. However, along with it, he heard the faintest of voices. I’m so sorry... I couldn’t hold him back anymore.

Only then did the demons in his heart freely took control of him. Just like the stories of old, where the Yaksha walks, death follows. But they were no stories. In his way towards the ruins where you were held captive, every step he took brought carnage and even more death and blood to taint his hands. No Fatui will leave this place alive. The very being of destruction ended many lives. Each death, the demons were growing stronger.

All he wanted now was to kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill killkillkill killkill kill killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill

Then seeing you suspended in the ceiling and bound by chains. Blood was painted on your lifeless skin. Wounds were littered and bruises were blooming on your form. But most of all, your eyes. What were once full of life and hope- now empty and blank. His demons quieted down.

Broken. You were like a broken porcelain doll.

“N-name...” His voice cracked, not believing it all.

With haste, he quickly broke your binds and caught you in his arms. he was fast to check for your pulse and your breathing. And thank the Archons, you were breathing but barely. You were now walking the line between life and death. With all his might yet a gentle caress, he hugged you for dear life. “Name... It’s me...”

But still, your eyes still held no recognition and it shattered his heart to pieces. With further inspection, he sensed the presence within you. A corruption. A certain evil.

“Name, stay with me please,” Xiao begged with desperation as he fought back tears. “It’s me who supposed to be the corrupted one between us, not you... I’m not allowing you to leave me, you hear me-”

With a ritual of the adeptal arts, he started purging and purifying the evil left by the god who fed from you. He is not letting you stay alone in your prison, not for a second longer.

Xiao prays and he never prayed before. Even to his master. But just this once, He prays with desperation. You are the light in his darkness. You are the moon in his night.

The ritual was a delicate process. For every word he spoke, he was rewarded by your screams of pain and the writhing of your fragile body. He wanted to stop, but he can’t. He had to physically restrain you from trying to escape from his embrace and from hurting yourself. And for every cry you released, Xiao merely shuts his eyes clos just for him not to see your pained eyes. Every now and then, Xiao speaks gentle apologies and words of encouragement for you. You were coming back. But still, the evil persists.

You writhed and scratched against him, until you were creating more wounds for blood to seep through. When it came to a point, you began pleading and begging for him to stop, that was when Xiao had shed a tear. So he continues the ritual, his prayers, and his apologies. They were arriving to a point where the ritual is reaching its conclusion but your screams only grew louder.

Please, just a little more...

Please, just stop...

Please...

The corruption disintegrated away from you in a forceful release of dark energy. He was breathing deeply, attempting to calm his loud heart. When he placed his gaze on you, you were breathing rapidly and your eyes were searching blindly and your hands were desperately holding onto him.

“X-Xiao...” You whispered, “Where am I? Where are you?”

With a sigh of relief, the Yaksha hugged you again closer and his forehead to yours, fearing you would go away again. The action made you lift your hands to his face, still searching blindly.

“I’m here, Name... I’m here.” At his voice, the dam in your eyes broke as you cried silently. Xiao was not adept in emotions, but for you, he will face them gladly. He lets you cry as he gives you soft whispers of assurance, safety, love, and promises. However, you were not crying because of what had happened to you. You were crying for him. After experiencing such corruption-

You sobbed some more- you were this close to him losing you and you could not bring yourself to imagine if your roles were reversed.

“P-please,” you said with a broken voice, “please don’t go to the place where I can’t follow...’

The words, at first puzzled him, but after a few moments, he realized and once more it broke his heart. Bringing you closer, Xiao let loose the tears he was holding back. With a gentleness unexpected of the Conqueror, he simply littered your face with kisses. “I promise if only you would do the same.”

With your smile that he loved dearly for so long you too spoke your promise, “I do.” They were simply two words, but the comfort they bring into the Yaksha’s heart was in volumes.

After that, you shared a few tender moments in each other’s arms. Simply relishing the feeling of their familiar warmth. A little later, Xiao spoke, “Would you like to eat some Almond Tofu once we get home?”

The question made you giggle at his innocence, so you agreed. Despite you needing physical medical attention. But Almond Tofu with him? Yes, you two definitely need some emotional healing.

A/N: fINALLY dONE lmao this was supposed to be short but angst really makes me want to write longer everytime haha~ anyway this request really made me ponder bout genshin stuff with all the corruption this and corruption that but then a question popped up like-

how did childe replicate the sigil of permission? since sigils are imbued with divine energy, i just thought how did this guy accumulate so much sigils to the point of freeing Osial- a god!!! soooo i just played with the idea for a bit then figured out maybe these pieces of paper get the divine energy from a divine source right? and the adepti are divine beings of liyue and another thing- you guys might have noticed the change of names in some scenes- i dont know but i think somehow different names represents different side of a person like- we have childe the cheerful harbinger then tartaglia the power hungry harbinger- there’s Alatus who’s calculating and cold, there’s the Conqueror of Demons who’s ruthless and unforgiving, then Xiao who is calm and humane- lastlyyyyy i might post this in ao3 ksks

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #xiao #genshin xiao #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao genshin #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #zhongli #childe #ganyu #ningguang

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psychicbergara · 2 years

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Ok so I’m always the worst with asks cuz I suddenly forget every thought I’ve ever had but I’ve been on a fanfic binge and I love when ppl come to the realization that their in LOVE by the most mundane thing and they were overwhelmed and idk maybe that with shyan ??

hi anon im SO sorry i took so long to write this out. it got a lot longer than i thought and honestly,,, im not too happy with it but i hope you think it's decent enough lkjldfjgdf 😭 im always open to constructive criticism so anon and anyone who reads this, please let me know your thoughts, i'd love to know what yall think!! anyways uh.. enjoy? sldkfjdf

Love wasn’t necessarily a tangible concept when Shane was in his youth. He was more of a ‘go with the flow’ kind of guy, ticking checkboxes on what you’re supposed to do when you’re in a relationship with someone, like saying the daunting ‘L word’ as he used to call it in his teenage years. Looking back, he has said it plenty of times, but he knew deep in his chest that it wasn’t right. He was like an old pull string toy; pull on his string and he’d robotically say a cheesy romantic phrase with all the enthusiasm he didn’t feel, all empty of genuinity and meaning. Which was obviously pretty shitty, he knew that now.

Shane never understood stories of couples that got together knowing they were The One. It was just a bunch of baloney, if you asked him; lots of fairytale bullshit. But, he couldn’t help but feel almost envious at times. He was almost hitting 30 and was aimlessly going through the motions, impulsively moving to LA after he was accepted for an internship at Buzzfeed. He’d see where life took him, he guessed. But he truly thought he would spend most of his life never truly experiencing what love is like; Scott once told him it was like having an overwhelming sense of security, contentment and care for another, loving them in the details. You make sure they’re safe, happy, healthy, and eating well. Shane assumed he would just continue to observe love from a distance. That was true, until he met Ryan.

—

It happens on a Friday.

Ryan has been on kind of a craze, lately. Despite coming to work with tired eyes, he’s been on a frenzy with Unsolved. Completely honed in on what he’s doing, he doesn’t even notice Shane leaving his usual order of decaf coffee at his desk sometimes. It makes Shane a bit worried if he’s being honest. Not only does Ryan look like he could fall over at any moment, but there’s a distance between them that wasn’t there before, and he thinks Ryan has put it there for some reason.

It started last week after their usual Friday movie nights. Shane and Ryan made their popcorn together, because popcorn requires all hands on deck to cook it to ‘the utmost perfection’ as Ryan would say, and watched their movie of the week which was good ole’ Jaws. Everything was going great, they had their usual little jokes and Shane would occasionally throw popcorn at the screen which led to Ryan calling him a ‘monster’ for wasting popcorn, or a ‘sick bastard,’ which made Shane burst out with surprised laughter, in that fond voice Ryan always uses when he insults Shane.

But after the movie, Ryan was looking at him weird. He didn’t know what it was, but Ryan looked a little wide-eyed like he would when going to locations for Unsolved. It was like he was scared of Shane. And Shane had no idea what to do with that; Shane decided that he hates it if that genuine fear is directed towards him, but he just let it be. He absolutely regrets that now; Shane should’ve asked if he was okay, if he was feeling sick, but Shane didn’t know how to do that just yet when it came to Ryan.

Now he answers Shane’s text with a brief ‘Yea’, or ‘Ok’, not leaving Shane much to hope for in the rest of the conversation, when they would usually text until 1am. Whenever Shane invites him to hang out, Ryan tells him he has a personal thing, or family stuff to take care of. While Shane believed him at first, it’s becoming more frequent that it’s harder for him to ignore. And Shane is usually a relaxed guy; he’s not used to getting worried about Ryan. Ryan’s the one who tends to knaw over something that bothers him until it becomes liquid, and Shane brings him out of it when he’s at his worst. But it’s different, he guesses, when it involves Ryan.

He wants to know if he did something wrong for Ryan to act like this. Was he too much of an asshole during the Unsolved shoot? Ryan would tell him if he was doing too much, he’s not afraid to tell Shane to fuck off if he’s being a shithead. Maybe something did happen in Ryan’s family and he’s being a self-centered jerk about it. He doesn’t know, and it concerns him. Shane needs to know if he’s okay, if he’s eating or sleeping well. But he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to ask, if whatever is between them is too much to bear, and if Shane crosses the barrier between them would their relationship break entirely.

Shane scrubs a hand over his face, taking his eyes off the computer in front of him. This is probably how Ryan feels on a day-to-day basis. He doesn’t know how he deals with it.

Ryan already left work before Shane could get a hold of him, and Shane takes that as another sign that Ryan doesn’t want to talk to him. He sighs, grabbing his stuff to leave work before he feels a buzz from his phone in his pocket. He takes it out and Shane almost drops his phone when the screen illuminates with a text from Ryan.

Hey can you come over real quick? I need to tell you something.

Fuck, if that isn’t the most cryptic text ever.

Sure thing buddy. Is everything okay?

Yeah. Don’t worry about it.

Shane taps out another text, then deletes it, and then taps out another. His fingers hover over the send button. ‘Are we ok?’ remains in his text box with the cursor blinking in-and-out of view, almost taunting him in a way. Shane deletes it, and sends out a different text before he begins to overthink again.

Okay. See you soon.

He doesn’t get a response back, unsurprisingly. Shane sighs again; his skin feels too hot and he feels a headache coming on. He’s getting too old for this shit. Getting in his car to drive straight to Ryan’s place, he hopes that the road doesn’t lead to the end of the most precious friendship he’s had in his life, to a place where Ryan has already left Shane behind.

–

When he gets there, it’s not what he expected.

Ryan greets him at the door and tells him to sit down on the couch. He’s making small talk, which is something they never do because, frankly, they both hate doing such a thing. It’s uncomfortable; plus, there doesn't need to be any small talk when it comes to them because they’re them, talking comes naturally to them because it’s like they’ve known each other their whole lives. Except now, where Shane feels like his lunch might crawl up his throat since Ryan seems like he might run away.

But then Ryan grabs a stack of papers sitting on the coffee table before sitting down beside Shane, a few inches farther than Shane would’ve liked. He’s playing with the papers in his hands while avoiding eye contact with Shane. His own hand twitches in his lap, having the strange urge to pull Ryan in close, rest his own head against Ryan’s hair and ask him what’s wrong, if he’s doing okay, if they’re okay. But he doesn’t.

Then before Shane can get a word out, Ryan shoves the papers into Shane’s chest, making Shane bring out an embarrassing ‘oof’.

“This is a very rough draft, but that’s what I have so far,” Ryan blurts. A rough draft of what, Shane is about to ask before Ryan goes on a spiel of explaining his pitch.

Shane is feeling a little deja vu, his mind flashing back to the day Ryan asked him to co-host Unsolved with him. Ryan back then was overall smaller in stature but his presence was just as big, even bigger now, he realizes. When he talks, he captures everyone’s attention with the way he articulates his thoughts and his movements are always so lively and full of light. Ryan just fills up an entire room with his existence, and it’s absolutely mesmerizing to watch. If Ryan was like that then, he is so much more now. And if what Shane’s gathering from Ryan’s explanation is correct, Ryan is going to get so much brighter, and Shane wants to be there when it happens.

Ryan wants to create his own company, producing all the previous ideas he had for Buzzfeed into this new channel. There would be unscripted shows, more variety, more content, and the best thing, more creative freedom. And in all honesty, this sounds absolutely genius. Shane has always admired Ryan’s mind, how he’s always been a pioneer in original content, paving the way for fun new shows, but this absolutely takes the cake. Shane loves it; he does.

But that means Ryan would be leaving. Leaving Buzzfeed. Leaving Shane.

His heart plummets to his stomach. Now he feels like running out the door. Or he might just throw up all over Ryan’s living room floor.

Shane looks down at the papers, trying to blink away the sudden dampness in his eyes that he hopes Ryan can’t see. Fuck, he’s not gone yet. He needs to get it together. Ryan is still in the midst of his rambles, so Shane is thankfully in the clear. He reads some of the notes and immediately notices all the inky scribbles and chicken scratch of Ryan’s writing.

There’s a bunch of sentences crossed out, question marks in the margins, double-sided arrows across the page to convey that these ideas need to be switched. Just write with a pencil, you idiot, Shane thinks fondly. It’s all very chaotic, which is exactly like Ryan. Shane huffs in amusement, looking over the document, completely endeared by the absolute mess of it all, but absorbed with Ryan’s insanely clever ideas.

Ryan’s still talking, which Shane is half-listening to because now he’s so enamored by the way Ryan writes his little h’s, with a little unnecessary squiggle at the end. It’s such an incredibly ordinary detail about Ryan, but for some reason Shane’s overwhelmed by it, by all of it.

Shane’s rubbing his thumb over the ink of the words when he thinks that he’s going to miss hearing Ryan’s incredibly long rants of whatever he’s passionate about and reading Ryan’s illegible handwriting in bold ink; he’s going to miss the annoying way he writes his h’s. He’s going to miss Ryan. And–

Oh.

“So, what do you think?” Ryan asks.

There’s absolutely nothing going on in Shane’s head other than a high buzz of a revelation that’s breaking Shane’s entire worldview. Anything he says won’t be coherent at all, so all Shane can say is, “Hm?”

Ryan gives him an incredulous look; one of those cute expressions he made every single time Shane told him he ate bugs as a toddler, genuinely baffled and disbelieving even though Shane has told him the same story multiple times. Well, fuck.

He’s in love with Ryan. And Ryan might be leaving him.

Shane’s thoughts race through his mind; Please don’t leave just yet, that’s too soon, I need more time with you, I just got to know you better, give me time to know all of you.

“Dude, did you listen to anything I said?”

Shane grimaces, trying to bring himself back to normalcy. “Uh, some of it?”

While Shane thinks he would be mad, Ryan just chuckles, “Unbelievable, this guy. Am I that much of a bore to you?” Ryan playfully smacks Shane’s shoulder, while also gradually losing the tension that weighed so heavily on Ryan before, which lets Shane bounce off their usual banter.

Shane laughs. “Yeah, I was definitely snoozing it up over here. I was making myself cozy with my new blankets before you rudely interrupted,” Shane says, placing the papers Ryan gave him on his lap as his new makeshift blankets. Shane fakes a snore, making Ryan dip his head with laughter.

Shane smiles softly at him. He can’t stop looking at Ryan, looking at the way he laughs with his whole body and how gorgeous his smile is. He has never seen anybody glow like Ryan does, carrying so much light that the sun may actually be his soul. And Shane doesn’t believe in souls.

He doesn’t want any of this to go away.

Shane clears his throat as Ryan’s giggles die down. “I do think you have something commendable here, Bergara.”

Ryan beams. “Yeah? You think so?”

“Yeah, I really do. You’re going to be great.”

At Shane’s words, Ryan’s demeanor dims a little. “I was, uh, actually hoping that you’d do this with me.”

Wait, what?

Before Shane can reply, Ryan continues, anxiety taking over him. “I mean, you don’t have to give your answer right away. I understand that you need time to think about it since it is a lot. We’d have to use our life savings, and it would require a shit ton of effort, but it could be like our little company baby, I guess? That’s a fucking weird way to put it, great job, Bergara–”

“Ryan.”

“You get what I mean. And you could do so many great things, Shane, like you did with Ruining History before Buzzfeed canceled it–”

“Ryan.”

“You could do it even better than that since our bosses won’t be looking over our shoulder like an obsessive helicopter parent. I just think–”

“Ry.”

Ryan stops, and looks at Shane with those big brown eyes that Shane absolutely adores, scared that Shane may actually say no. Shane wants to scoff, and thinks, As if.

He doesn’t know how else to quell Ryan’s worries but to do this– Shane gently takes Ryan’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the inside of Ryan’s wrist, and presses his lips onto Ryan’s knuckles. Well hello there, m’darling, Shane thinks deliriously.

Shane hears Ryan’s breath hitch, and Shane doesn’t blame him because he has never done this before. And before Ryan could ask what the fuck is going on, Shane says in a low voice, “Of course I’ll do this with you.” Shane’s voice is too tight, too emotional, but he knows– I’ll follow you anywhere. I’ve followed you into the darkest places the world has to offer, so of course I’ll follow you now. It’s been good from the start so it can only get better.

So this is what love is like.

Ryan doesn’t pull his hand away from Shane. His eyes brighten and happiness is buzzing from his skin, not quite letting it spill just yet. “Really? You’re serious? You’re not fucking with me?”

Shane grins, “Nope. You’re stuck with me, Bergmeister. I’m like a bad penny under your shoe, I’ll be annoying you till the day I die, whether you like it or not.”

Ryan cackles, and before Shane knows it, he’s got his arms full of Bergara. He wraps his arms around Ryan, feeling like the luckiest person in the world when Ryan squeezes him just a little tighter than usual.

“Looking forward to it, big guy.”

This love, Shane knows; it’s a forever one. And he’s more than okay with that.

#shyan #skeptic believer #asks #sophie answers #sophie writes #i hope this was okay!! slkdfjd #like ive said before im not the best writer so any feedback would be great<3

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elysianslove · 3 years

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hihi, can I request smth! Idk of this comply to your request rules cause I can't find it in your blog (sorry!!) The request is hc with Atsumu, Kuroo and Iwaizumi with an s/o that is considered a bitch by people. Like they don't let anyone walk all over them, people are scared of them but admire them esp in terms of academics but they're actually v loving and a big clumsy mess.

hii!! yeah i don’t really have a set of rules for requesting mainly cause i couldn’t think of any haha, but your request is more than okay! i’ve been obsessing nonstop over atsumu especially recently, and today wasn’t the best of days for me, so this was nice to write heh. thank you for requesting it. i hope you enjoy <3

miya atsumu

atsumu is obsessed w you

seriously, he is just enamored by you. the way you hold your ground and always stand up for yourself, never letting anyone saying anything about you pass by you, your presence so intimidating. he loves it so much. he’s especially fond of the way you’re not even a bitch, you’re just confident in who you are, and everything you’re good at.

he observes from afar at first, the way people shrink in comparison to you regardless of your height. your aura just seems so. powerful? he really wants to approach you, and because this is miya atsumu, the first thought that crosses his mind is this person needs to be mine <3 no he will not take criticism.

so he does. approaches you, introduces himself in a way like you’re already meant to know who he is and he’s just doing you a favor. his heart breaks into tiny little pieces when you just go, “sorry, but no.”

like literally just that you don’t go in detail or anything. you just reject him so plain and simple it’s actually worse than a full fledged out angry rejection. osamu’s so impressed he ready to have you added to his future will.

he grows on you, though, over time. atsumu’s so quitter, and your rejection had only spurred him on. he would’ve backed off, because is a consent king, as they all are and should be, but you’re always so prepared with a quip back at him and you never actually push him away. it’s like a flirty game of tug of war between you two. eventually, he asks you out again, and just for old time’s sake, you jokingly say no lmao. all blood drains from his face that you actually kinda feel bad.

generally, he’s very proud to have you as his s/o. he himself has dealt with people constantly being put off by him and his attitude, so to see you deal with it so well is kind of? encouraging? uplifting? yk?

he also likes how people are both scared of you and admire you. like. he relates to them! you’re incredible!

he’s always snickering when he sees a student approach you literally trembling like a leaf and asks for your help in something academics related. you always say yes, which is something that just. pinches at his heart. the student is also always so surprised at the fact that you’re willing to help. god. atsumu will never have enough of their reactions to you.

when you grow more comfortable with each other, and he discovers what you’re truly like, the person you really are beneath, atsumu just straight up falls in love. he didn’t think you could be any more perfect for him, honestly.

he’s loves the way people are so intimidated by you but he knows that just a few minutes ago you were doodling little hearts in his notebook.

a part of him wants so many more people to be aware that sometimes you can trip over air, and that you’re not as elegant and stoic as everyone thinks you are, but then he’s reminded of the fact that only he knows you’re truly like this, and he shakes that part of him off. atsumu genuinely adores knowing this additional, secret part of you. he doesn’t think you’re fake at all for having what’s seemingly a facade. he just thinks not enough people know what you’re truly like, and that you’re a gem, truly.

he’s also like weirdly obsessed with the two of you as a couple? he knows people are intimidated by him, and it’s so painfully obvious people are intimidated by you. he just. eats that shit up.

he’d also be really supportive if it ever gets to you. super ready to fight anyone. he’ll always tell you “these fake bitches don’t matter babe we the only real ones 😼💯” god havejkdkd

anyways i been fantasizing about having miya atsumu as my bf somebody help im going insane

kuroo tetsurō

kuroo knows of you. everybody does. you’re like, exceptionally good at being one of the most talked about people and also being the most mysterious person in school. the duality has him heart eyes for you.

what probably catches his attention is the way people talk about you, in general, but specifically regarding academics. he overhears a group of people like whispering to each other about you while you’re just standing there minding your own business. they’re just encouraging one of them to approach you and kuroo’s like hm ! let me butt in bc why not !

as a joke, he slides up next to you and points at the group of students and whispers, “they’re talking about you.”

this obviously ticks you off and without looking back you stomp over to the students and just go, “if you have something to say about me say it to my face!” and kuroo’s just watching like ,,, damn that’s hot. the students are so confused and ten times more scared than they first were and one of them just squeaks out that they only wanted to ask for help and you just , “oh. okay! :D.” kuroo’s just ,,, he’s losing his damn mind.

he finds you really interesting, honestly, the way you’re just so strong? like mentally especially. you’re really mature, and you have a strong sense of self. he admires that about you, and continues to love that even when you start dating.

he does ask you out, and he’s a little surprised you said yes, he’s not gonna lie. but you did, from the first time, and he just took you out to a simple picnic date. it was very cute, and the whole time he made you laugh and you were a completely different person than what he had first seen and expected.

he really likes the fact that you’re really confident in yourself in that you won’t let anyone step on you or walk all over you. like he just loves watching you hand someone’s ass to them because they decided they wanted to make a smart comment about you. seriously, he’s insanely in love with it.

he realizes pretty quick that the only reason people are so thrown off by you or are scared to approach you is because no one really gives you a chance to be yourself? like they’re always expecting the worst from you, having heard all these terrible things about you that half aren’t even true, that they don’t even bother trying to get to know you. and that fact really bothers him a lot, he’s not gonna lie, because he believes you’re the best person he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting.

he really loves that you don’t let it bother you though. he’s impressed with how it doesn’t matter if some friends turn out fake, because, in your words, “good riddance.”

the two of you kind of feed off each other’s energies? like he’s super confident in himself, and so are you, so you two only benefit each other in your presences.

to put it simply, kuroo is incredibly impressed with who you are as a person, and it warms his heart so much how you’re so incredible of a person in so many ways, in that you neither let anything pass you by, and in that you’re the cutest, kindest soul he knows.

iwaizumi hajime

brat tamer #1 <3

i think iwa genuinely doesn’t care. not about you! about the things people say. like he hears so many rumors about you and he’s like .... ok. oikawa’s always feeding them to him but he’s just? not bothered by it? doesn’t care? it’s irrelevant information for him anyways?

but then.

he walks past a scene where he sees you just destroying this poor kid. you’re verbally destroying him. the kid’s buried six feet under at this point. you’re not even yelling, but the guy’s shrinking under your gaze and your words and iwazumi’s so mesmerized by the way you do it so flawlessly. you don’t stutter because you’re so sure of your words and so confident in your stance. iwazumi. hums in approval. like. hm. good for them. as they should.

after that he starts paying more attention to anything he hears about you, because he wants to know more. he doesn’t know why. he just does. and then he hears all these different things like “they’re so good at everything they do they can’t be real” and “i would never speak to them if they were the last person on earth” like ? he’s so confused WHICH IS IT

so, because iwaizumi’s a pretty straightforward person, he approaches you.

do not confuse this though, because iwa is a blushing and flustered mess as he asks you to hang out. he’s never done this before, and this is not his style, but he’s just so interested in who you are as a person he was doing it before he realized it happened.

the way you react is so? sweet?

it’s so different than that day he saw you murdering that guy for talking smack, you seem so light and loving he actually feels his heart beat a little too fast in his chest.

as his s/o, iwaizumi likes that he can trust you with yourself. like a part of him will always have that protective side to him, because that’s just the person iwa is, and he’ll always feel the need to step up and speak for you. but another part of him is really amazed by the way you can and are so able of speaking up for yourself. he feels really proud at the lack of insecurity.

he also feels really smug about being with you. because he knows people are intimidated by him, and especially by you, but now that you’re together, he feels untouchable, and he knows you are too. he likes that feeling of power a little too much.

if you ever step out of line at some point, iwaizumi will definitely let you know. he’ll point it out, and if you resist, he knows how to get you down off the pedestal. he’s had brat taming training for years lmao

but he doesn’t think you’re a brat, not at all. in fact, he thinks you’re the sweetest person ever. he loves the versatility of your personality and attitude, in that you’re not just black and white and there’s so much more to you, there’s always grey in between. he likes that you’re endlessly dimensional and that he’s always learning something new about you.

he especially loves the side of you that’s so soft spoken. it’s so endearing to him how you’re one moment so angry you could murder someone in cold blood but then all of a sudden you’re pinching his cheeks and kissing the tip of his nose telling him how cute he is.

yeah iwa really loves you hehe <3

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi headcanons #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu headcanons #atsumu x reader #atsumu headcanons #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo headcanons

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skunked-up-kicks · 3 years

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Omg... same... I don't remember my first reaction to that kevin-andrew staring line, but like for example, it took me a while to get why Nicky warned Neil not to look too much at Kevin. And when people interpret things sexually/romantically in the fandom I'm definitely surprised, like the cigarette pack in Andrew's back pocket turned into staring at his ass etc. I did find stuff like Andrew brushing Neil's back more telling, but I didn't read every moment from a sexual attraction lense u know

I don't know if my last ask made sense but basically same sometimes im like "oh you guys think this line is about attraction. ok. i didn't know that" i feel like i learnt to see the romance/attraction in most of it bc i remember i felt like neil for the longest time -- i didn't see the signs of 'attraction' a lot of the time, though i did see more blatant flirting

lil disclaimer thingy: i understand everyone reads book differently and is coming from different perspectives, and i'm not intending to shame anyone or anything, just wanna talk about my experience reading aftg.

so, if i'm being honest... i do genuinely find it so baffling that people read certain scenes (mainly book 1 scenes) as sexual. like you mentioned the infamous 'neil sussed the twins out by which one had a cigarette packet in their back pocket' scene that people have turned into 'neil was ogling andrew's ass'. which.. neil is a respectful king and would never, okay? i hate when ppl make him into a fucking creep :// but also it's a good example of an early moment in the series that showed how observant and clever neil could be so it also makes me sad that the moment got stripped of that in favour of it being sexual :(

anyway, besides sexual clearly not being how it's intended to be read, it's also weird to me because like... my mind was not at all in the place to be reading scenes as sexual when i first read that scene.

we've just been introduced to neil not that long ago, and he's been presented to us as a traumatized teenager who's been squatting in his highschool's gym locker room, seems to have a nicotine addiction, is really anxious, has seen his mum die, and i'm also pretty sure there's lines about how lonely neil is and about how much he's grieving his mum. not that long before the cigarette-in-back-pocket scene doesn't neil have a moment at the window where he thinks "one of us has to make it mum"??

what i'm very poorly trying to explain is that, at least when i first read the books, i was really attached to neil early on and more importantly i was really protective of him. cause he's a child really... and a very hurt and distressed one at that, who's in a new and clearly unsafe environment. andrew's group is not presented in a good light early on, so i was rightfully suspicious and untrusting of them. how people can be given a character like neil in a situation like that and be playing matchmaker almost immediately is... yeah.

like... my mind wasn't in the place to be going "oooo neil thinks one of them has a nice ass!!🥴🥴"... LIKE? the scenes before certainly aren't set up in a way that's leading you down that train of thought...

it's the same as the scene where neil puts andrew's hand under his shirt, people talked about seeing that as sexual too. but andrew's been raped literally like 2 or 3 pages ago??? when i read those kinds of posts i can't help but think "how is this what's on your guys minds right now??..."

plus, when people say they saw these moments as sexual attraction they are often also implying they were thinking "maybe they'll get together". which is why i mentioned that i didn't trust andrew's group, cause i assumed everyone else felt the same, so i also assumed that like me they wouldn't be thinking of neil possibly getting with any of them... cause if you don't think they're trustworthy... why would you? i just wanted to protect neil from them ngl :') the only other character i liked at the time besides neil was wymack cause he actually showed that he cared about neil's wellbeing.

even that scene where andrew runs his fingers also neil's back, i honestly thought andrew was trying to intimidate neil... cause i didn't fucking like or trust andrew! he had non-con drugged not that long ago and i was still pissed at him and his group at the time. plus, andrew had used touching neil as a way to try and intimidate him before that so. even if i had picked up on the fact that andrew was attracted to neil from that during my first read, i wouldn't have thought they'd be getting together, or even wanted them too lol.

also because, aside from what i've said, there was also the fact neil told us he didn't swing... some scenes happened before that but most that people talk about happened after. if i'm reading a book and i'm having moments where i'm thinking maybe someone is attracted to the main character it's because i assume something might actually happen!

but i believed neil was aro/ace and so i wasn't looking for moments of neil being attracted to people, or moments of others being attracted to him. i never really bothered trying to read between the lines, it never even crossed my mind for so long... cause i had already set my mind on "neil won't end up with anyone". i only remembering it occurring to me at the "doesn't mean i wouldn't blow you" scene.

and honestly, when that happened i remember thinking something like "andrew's gonna end up getting rejected". idk? i never doubted neil was aspec, i started off thinking he was aro/ace like i said but i never went "oh he's gay", i just went "oh so he's not aro/ace but he's somewhere on the spectrum of being asexual".

and also tbh... i liked that neil never thought of things sexually. it was nice :'( and seeing his own thoughts and actions getting interpreted in that way, especially after we should have been under the assumption he wasn't interested in things like that... it rubs me the wrong way.

(i know aro/ace ppl can have relationships and/or have sex, but the way neil presented his sexuality and acted when hit on. to me, it made it seem like he was completely uninterested in either)

i can understand going back through the book after reading for the first time and being like "oh andrew's actions or words here might have been partially motivated by his attraction to neil at the time!", but through the first read? and for neil?? it's weird to me...

this is quite long so sorry bout that lol, i think i'll leave it here. it's nice to see someone else feel a similar way anyway ;^;

again, i don't think it's wrong if people read it differently. it just confuses me cause it's so different from my experience reading it and what i would expect it to be like for others

#ask

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daaziscoolbesties · 3 years

Text

[REPOST] MY 2K WORD COMMENTARY/ANALYSIS OF RANBOO’S LORE STREAM

‼️‼️This post contains lore spoilers from Ranboo’s 4/23 stream, “The Enderwalk Saga. Chapter 1: The Lessons”. If you haven’t seen that stream don’t read ahead unless you want spoilers‼️‼️

disclaimer: this isnt really an analysis as much as a bunch of commentary and half-baked theories.

-on the way to the mansion he was sort of talking to himself saying stuff like "i'm good i'm good" which m a y be a normal thing but also maybe it's not and it flew over our heads cause he talks to chats and donos like that so often

-again, this one may just be a normal thing but when he was climbing up the stairs in the mansion looking for foolish, he repeats some of his words like down to the exact same tone of voice and everything. 12:42, "this mansion is way too big actually. this mansion is way too big actually." (why the repeated actually? seems odd to me but again it might just be a normal thing that i haven't picked up on). (right after) "okay okay lemme find him lemme find him" again repeated words in the e x a c t same tone.

-does everyone know about ranboo's silk touch hands ability thing? or was that just a techno and ranboo main character moment. bc if it was, how would foolish know that ranboo could pick up the full cake after it'd been partially eaten. unless everyone on the sever knows about that in which case this means nothing. but if they d o n t know... how would foolish know? ranboo wrote about it in the do not read book so maybe if it's not a publicly known thing maybe foolish got his hands on the book and read it??

-14:53-ish, they're talking about the war room and how it was for tubbo or whatever and ranboo says, and i quote "he prepares for lore but he's never gonna do it." now funny thing is at first i couldn't tell if he said "war" like in reference to the war room or "lore". but after playing the clip over and over i can say with ALMOST 100% certainty that he said lore. there is a definite L sound at the beginning of the word. which either means a) this was a slip up (doubtful bc he said later that there were no mistakes), b) he broke the fourth wall because they were supposed to be rping at that point, or c) i'm completely wrong and he said "war" which leads down an entire other road of possibilities

-15:17 "are you a book reader?" "*checks inventory for do not read book* uh yeah i'd say i'm a book reader-" dunno how i didn't catch this the first time I HATE THAT DAMN BOOK

-15:18 there's blue in his hotbar. where did he get the blue.

-16:40 "it's like a metaphor- i have two minds: i have my normal self, my normal little shift-dancing self, and then the builder one. the builder one is demanding. it's a very demanding mind." ranboo then lets out a weird sigh after this. i feel like what foolish was talking about was an indirect(?) parallel to ranboo in and out of enderwalk, there's how he normally is, trying to do best for others, and then there's enderwalk, meeting up with bad guys and "demanding" things (its very late as i write this i really don't know what i'm talking about)

-17:11 "you have your panic closet" i'm sorry his what now 😀 no but seriously how the hell did i miss some of these

-18:04 "you're asking me if i remember?" very funny ranboo thank you for making jokes in these trying times

-18:25 WHY DID HE GET OUT THE AXE WHEN STARING AT THE BEE

-19:38 why did foolish hold the grass block- most of these observations probably mean nothing but- h u h - is that- i'm too tired for this

-19:54 "i never properly thanked you for the deal you made with me" so foolish got something out of this deal, we're not sure if ranboo did. "the green cardboard box" again do you mean dream's house- but seriously the only people i can think of on the server that are associated with green are dream and sam. and i have no idea what cardboard box could be referring to. foolish got a lime colored shulker from drista

-20:30 "we're supposed to only talk about it at a certain location" hmm now where would that be? panic room maybe? cause like usually after doing a big thing in the enderwalk state ranboo wakes up in the panic room so maybe? the deal was that they only talk about it in his house

-21:52 how does ranboo receive(?) the lessons? like are they whispered to him in his mind or is he seeing them as words in front of him like we see? hmm

-"Lesson 14: If you have the opportunity to gain a favor, take it." "gain a favor" don't you usually ask people for favors though? how does one "gain a favor"? anyways i'm pretty sure lesson 14 has to do with the deal foolish was talking about. (the deal explained because i now have info: at some point a bit ago foolish met up with ranboo and asked to make a deal, he'd gotten a shulker box from drista. the deal was that ranboo would have ownership of the box, it would be under his name but foolish rents/borrows it indefinitely. ranboo negotiated that if he took ownership of the box he would get a "war favor" from foolish where if something happens that creates sides, ranboo can ask him a favor that could change his side. but why would foolish want ranboo to have ownership of the shulker you may ask? well i have an answer for you. a theory actually but still. basically since drista technically isn't supposed to give out shit on the server if someone where to have that stuff then they may get in trouble. foolish wants to be able to use the shulker but if it gets found he doesn't want to get in trouble, so he can blame it on ranboo seeing as it's under his name.)

-22:16-ish "i still have this from when you *can't understand whats said here*" well i guess that sort of explains why he had the grass block? idk man (info update: he had the grass block from when ranboo threw it at him telling him to calm down like what ghostbur does with blue)

-31:35 "i figured out how to cause it" how to cause the enderwalk state

-38:30 "ninety three lessons" I STILL DONT KNOW WHY HE KEPT SAYING NINETY THREE AND NOT NINETY FOUR AND ITS DRIVING ME CRAZY LMAO

-39:01 "it's all for the greater good" okay well when are you gonna start thinking about yourself and not everyone else for once huh. self care bitch.

-40:31 he started holding the axe when he was looking at sam- gonna say it i really don't like that axe ahahah- WAIT A DAMN MINUTE THE AXE IS NAMED "axe of ender" I DONT LIKE THAT I DONT LIKE THAT AT ALL

-41:53 is there something?? physically keeping him from telling sam??? or maybe it's sort of like his enderwalk state taking control to make him shut the fuck up??? so many questions and approximately zero answers

-43:18 ranboo raising his voice legitimately scares me 😀👍

-"Lesson 27: Do not reminisce on what you have lost for it will weigh you down." showed up when he was thinking about and REMINISCING about the community house 👀👀

-"Lesson 53: Never fully trust anyone." showed up literally after he said that he thinks he can trust the other people on the server enough to tell them about what he did

-"Lesson 67: Leave no evidence of what you have helped with." this is different from the others because there doesn't seem to be at least a semi-direct connection to it? unless maybe at the time ranboo was near something he may have "helped with"? not sure about this one

-"Lesson 94: DO NOT LET THEM KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE DONE" yeah yeah i get it i get it he's fucked up some shit in enderwalk i don't feel like analyzing this thanks

-OH OH NOTICE HOW HE SAYS "REMEMBERING" WHEN THE LESSONS SHOW UP. IMPLYING THAT THIS ISNT A NEW THING, ITS HAPPENED BEFORE AND NOW HES REMEMBERING IT. MAYBE HE WROTE DOWN THE LESSONS WHEN HE WAS IN ENDERWALK AND NOW THAT HES BEEN EXPERIMENTING ITS BEEN EASIER FOR HIM TO REMEMBER THOSE ENDERWALK MEMORIES

-okokok the experiments are that he's been e x p e r i m e n t i n g on how to purposefully induce the enderwalk state. and we know now that it wasn't from the pain of the water because on the stream afterwords he said that it's caused by the intense fear of something happening. and so the "side effects" of the experiments is that since he's in enderwalk more often(?) he starts remembering more things from it

-OH MY GOD WAIT "there is a reason sam, there's so many reasons, theres ninety three of them" (44:47) WHAT IF EVERY LESSON IS TIED TO A QUOTE UNQUOTE "reason" THAT RANBOO THINKS HES A BAD PERSON/NEEDS TO BE LOCKED UP BUT HE SAYS NINETY THREE INSTEAD OF NINETY FOUR BECAUSE THE NINETY FOURTH LESSON DOESNT HAVE A REASON YET/HE DOESNT REMEMBER IT HAVING A REASON

-dude honestly the whole sam part hurts so much this man is scarily good at acting

-46:46 "i cant put you in the prison you wouldn't be able to see michael anymore" bestie that's the point he doesn't want to accidentally hurt michael or tubbo in the enderwalk state—

-okay but there's no way that sam couldn't tell that ranboo was at least TRYING to confess to something- i feel like he definitely knows more than he's letting on because usually like when people do bad shit or admit to doing bad shit he's like in Prison Guard Mode™️ (he literally cut off ponk's arm because he stole some keycards or something) and whatever and idk what he knows but he definitely knows something and is trying to protect ranboo. or he's trying to manipulate him or smth either one works—

-50:38 "you are a good person" "i am?" you can hear my heart shatter. "yes you are" "i don't think so sam" "i do, even if you don't" "i really don't think so" and there it goes again

-51:25 hello badboyhalo i see you to the left of ranboo

-52:44 "but then my curiosity got the best of me" curiosity killed the cat, bitch

-52:54 "there's ninety three, ninety four, ninety- theres so many reasons!" SEE!! NOT ONLY ARE THERE THAT MANY LESSONS THERE ARE REASONS THAT CORRESPOND IM S O SMART—

-52:56 "i don't want to remember anymore!" *quietly brings forth my theory that when ranboo loses a canon life his memory gets wiped*

-53:13 "ive opened pandora's box" isn't the prison?? literally called pandora's VAULT??? so this m a y be a stretch but i'm thinking that maybe this could be taken in the literal sense that he "opened" the prison and let dream out (the sirens at the end of quackity's stream confirm that dream is indeed out)

-53:42 mans just straight up walked through a ghost i—

-55:37 so are we just gonna ignore the eleventh page of the book? "he's alive, but hopefully soon dream won't be"??? alright nevermind it's most likely bc when tommy came back he recruited ranboo in his plan to kill dream

-55:47 notice how he writes "what am i?" as opposed to "who am i?" no elaboration here idk what it could be

-56:08 just so it's clear for anyone who doesn't know- he's wearing armor at this point, and i'm like 90% sure that when he wears his armor water can't hurt him. and i saw someone say somewhere that like with splash potions when thrown it turns into a gas-like thing? so again, it didn't hurt him, he didn't get hurt. he said in the chill stream that he wasn't comfortable making it where his character had to hurt himself to do that. the thing that causes the enderwalk isn't pain, it's intense and sudden emotions like fear and stress. thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

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shoichee · 2 years

Text

hi!

not sure if i did this right, but—

im a capricorn infj! aries moon and pisces rising!. i’m a bisexual female. i have many personalities- i can adapt to any friend group, which is why it’s kinda hard to know my true self unless you observe me real well. i won’t talk to anyone unless they talk to me first. will def took years to earn my trust. im awfully introverted. i pretty much judge and observe everyone around me. i’m also pretty awkward.

i’m pretty short tempered and get mad/annoyed v easily. i despise hurting people whether it is verbally or physicaly even tho they’ve done rude things to me. but if they said shit abt my friend/family i would not hesitate to talk back and be rude to them.

if im comfortable with someone enough, i will try to understand them. i will be their shoulder to cry on and will comfort them. i’m also very loyal and trustworthy. and i can be an annoying extroverted asshole depends on their personality tho. my way of showing affection is physical!! i love hugs! im v bad at showing verbal affection.

i’m 5'0", shoulder length brown hair, with pretty much tired eyes.

i have many interest, but i get bored easily. so everytime i do something new and get bored of it i most likely would completly abandoned it. unless im really into it and passionate abt it, i might just be lazy and not do it but i will continue to learn it.

my hobbies currently and the things im into rn is astronomy and biology. and i also love learning about astrology! i also love playing basketball and do ballet . i also love horror movies/dark fiction! not a big fan of drama, romance, and adventure though. i also love movies/anime that will make me emotional since it’s so hard for me to cry. i feel like a robot tbh.

anyways that’s it! (≧▽≦). congrats on 500!!

Hi………… I apologize… so much—for making you wait half a year for this…. I really am😭 But congrats, you’re the last matchup that made it in the inbox, so I’m gonna HOP INTO IT! Thank you for your best wishes!

Best Matchup…

Takao Kazunari

wow, you might think, Shoi is completely off her rocker for this matchup

LET ME EXPLAIN

capricorn suns get along pretty swell with scorpio suns, and while unfortunately idk the KNB guys’ moon and rising signs, I based this matchup more on everything you said after

I will get this out of the way, but you have some striking similarities (but also very distinct differences) with Midorima, and Takao already knows how he ticks and works

an INFJ with an ENTP though… yeah, and judging by the way you wrote your matchup, it won’t be as seamless and a smooth road to a relationship with him like other matchups with other KNB guys I’ve written about

but Takao knows, he just worms his way into your heart before you know it—that’s just how he operates

it just makes the effort all worth it

now so, I would think he would notice you at some point when he feels a burning stare at the back of his head many times, like… he doesn’t turn around but he just knows (Hawk-Eye things™)

“Hey, Shin-chan, do you think Kuroko by any off-chance transferred to Shutoku secretly, because—”

“Are you an idiot?”

“Alright, alright—sheeesh…” (cue him closing his eyes and sighing with his arms behind his head)

but before they make a turn at a corner, Takao uses that as an opportunity to glance where he feels the stare from, and he sees you, looking… pretty menacing, in his opinion

(“HOLY SHIT, WHY ARE THEY LOOKING AT ME??”)

and then cue him averting his glance away FAST

but you’re over here just people-watching, and you can’t help that Takao is often the guy who takes your attention when he’s in the same room—mostly because he’s the liveliest one there… and you’re just a curious gal

I would think Takao has many acquaintance groups (even though he’s depicted with Midorima alongside him all the time), and I think when he stops by your friend group one day to talk to an acquaintance of his (and also your friend), that’s when you guys first interact

“Yo! (y/n)-chan, right? You look familiar around here.”

“… Hi,” you turn to him to reply, with a slight nod to acknowledge his greeting and as a way to say “same to you.” “You’re Takao, right?”

“Whaaa, how’d you know?” he puts a hand to his chest in playful surprise and notices you staring at him for a bit before averting your gaze

“It’s hard not to know when Midorima-san yells your name around every day.”

“Oh yeah, Shin-chan, huh?”

he tries to make small talk with you, but noticing how you’re not exactly extroverted with him (but nonetheless try to reply to him anyways), he immediately backs off and mingles with the rest of your friend group, trying to give you space and whatnot

but he looks at you every few moments and notices the way you interact with others is wholly different than when you interacted with him

could it be you were simply more comfortable with them? is that your real personality? were you just shy with strangers in general? as he thinks about this more and more, he grows more curious

and just like he was curious about Midorima’s rituals of oha-asa, he was curious about how you worked

just like how you judged and observed people, Takao starts to take note of your presence and how you interact with others (Hawk-Eye things™)

you must be soft and just shy in general but can adapt into social groups to an extent, he reasons

until one day he heard your voice being the only loud thing in the hallways

curious, he scooched himself over to see a small crowd looking at you

“Don’t you ever fucking say that shit about my friends again, pepper-nose. I know that damn nose was from all the lies you’ve been spreading around buildings like it’s hot shit. It’s actually not cute. Maybe try a new hobby and an attitude overhaul if you ever want to get hitched.”

his jaw is DUSTY from being dropped on the FLOOR for a good 5 minutes

… ohhhkay… so you’re not as soft as he thought in his mind

but that was the first time you’ve said anything mean to anyone, regardless of how annoyed you might’ve looked… then again, the guy harassing you deserved it 100%

“… SOoooo, has ‘pepper-nose’ been bothering you again lately? Y’know, that was hella impressive and hilarious and all, but let me know if he tries anything with you again, think of it as a token of our friendship^^”

“You heard that???” you wish the ground just swallowed you up right there and then “And for the record, since when were we friends?”

“Aw, come on, can’t we?—” a ring interrupts him “Sorry, it’s Shin-chan, one second… hello? Wha—your oha-asa says you need a what now? A rice cooker for cancer’s luck? Yeah, no, forget it—get it yourself! You have it in your own kitchen!” and he promptly ends the call with an irk mark

“Did you say oha-asa?” you asked, waiting for Takao to finish his call

“Yeahhhh, my buddy has a strange thing with horoscopes and revolves his life around it.”

and for the first time, he can see a bit of a sparkle in your otherwise tired eyes

“What do you know about it?”

and you and Takao spent the next few hours talking about astrology, while Takao had been relying on Shin-chan’s oddities and knowledge as a crutch for the conversations (and he didn’t wanna mess this convo up because that would mean losing his shot of being friends with you)

and he notices you’re not as awkward in this convo

contrary to popular belief, Takao is quite adept in toning down or matching his energy with different types of people… it’s just that Midorima was always someone that had buttons waiting to be pushed

it’s quite canon that he gets along with most people

he’s used to short-tempered people like Midorima and Miyaji, so when he can sense that you’re being annoyed by him, he backs off with no problem… if something else is causing you to be mad, then he’ll help you work out the problem (if you allow him, of course)

Takao is not the person to fall in love so easily either, not because of trust issues, but because he’s a very practical person who wants to be ABSOLUTELY sure the person is going to be in his life long-term

you guys would have a platonic/acquaintance relationship for YEARS before anything remotely romantic would happen between the two of you

still, Takao would be the first to fall for you like the clown that he is

once you’re comfortable around him, you guys would hang out a lot together, especially playing basketball in good fun

“You… like biology? Like, unironically like it?”

“Yeah.”

cue Takao cursing in his mind as he crawls back to Midorima to get a crash course on biology

Midorima is hella confused why Takao gained a sudden genuine interest in astrology and biology and keeps coming to ask him about everything regarding those two topics

when he realizes you’re someone who can get bored/abandon interests despite having many said interests, Takao realizes you’re a lot more fun to hang around than Midorima and gets excited at the thought of showing you THE ENTIRE WORLDaround Tokyo, and he knows you wouldn’t be AS grumpy about trying new things

don’t like the interest? that’s totally A-Ok with him, you guys can always explore something else

don’t like dealing with people? social battery drained? say less, Takao is there to take over for you

when Shutoku loses to either Seirin, Rakuzan, or Kaijo in the future (again, mayhaps), you’d be there to shoulder his tears

when you’re finally near 100% comfortable with him, it’s like you suddenly become a complete 180 on him, being a toned down-Kise but only for him (he feels so special, ngl, even if it may be only a platonic thing)

you attend his basketball games, and he attends your ballet recitals/showcases with such admiration

when you guys eventually date, he EATS UP THE HUGS—GIVE HIM HUGS, HE LOVES THEM

it’s fine if you can’t verbally give affection, he’s used to it and doesn’t mind it at all (exhibit A: Midorima; exhibit B: the entire Shutoku team)

again, he just knows (Hawk-Eye things™)

I don’t think he’s particularly picky about genres to read/watch; he’ll be mostly happy with whatever you pick and recommend

horror stuff freaks him out a bit though

also cries watching emotional stuff with you, but tries to laugh it off when the end credits roll to be cool (but he’s not fooling anyone)

ain’t no way you’re gonna be a robot on his end; he’s gonna vow to at least make you laugh as much as he can to disprove that

Runner-Up Matchup!

Kuroko Tetsuya

you guys are kindred spirits! INFJ duo

you guys would fall in love much more easily since you guys have such similar vibes

you guys know how to give each other space and quiet (Takao cannot always give quiet even if he tried his damn hardest)

you guys would easily people-watch together and then make comments about your observations

and when you’re being irritated, Kuroko is the calming water that flows into your mind and soul

he would very much indulge in your hobbies, listening attentively to all your preferred genres and renting out movies and buying books for you that would please you

the only (but crucial) reason why I didn’t put him as top is because: you’re someone who has varying interests with a very low interest attention-span, and Kuroko is someone with stable hobbies and not much of a FREQUENT experimentalist like you are (Kise would be the crazy jack-of-all-trades type of guy)

after all, Kuroko’s whole thing about his basketball style is how extremely specialized he is in his skillset

he’s a pretty mellow guy who would prefer stability in his life

he doesn’t mind the hustle and bustle and would even like it, I would say, but the only thing you guys have in common are your MBTIs and a few hobbies

but I would think your guys’ outlooks on life and priorities in general are pretty different

maybe if you guys had a serious talk about what you guys want in the relationship and how to approach it, it would FLOURISH IMMENSELY

Kuroko wouldn’t be as receptive to physical touch (i.e. hugs) like Takao, but he would definitely accept your touch

I think he would be touchier away from public view

he would probably make at least ONE remark and/or joke/tease that you have similar hair to his basketball coach

#submission #kagummypack #milestone matchups #500 follower milestone #500 followers #knb matchups #knb matchup #satrnism #knb x y/n #knb x reader

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minghaoss-archive · 5 years

Text

of hues, of blues - m

summary ↯

wherein heartbreak teaches you to love again.

pairing ↯

xu minghao x fem reader

genre ↯

oneshot, angst, smut

and just a smidge of fluff hah!

word count ↯

6.811 words

alternative universe↯

friends with benefits to lovers, hanahaki disease.

warnings ↯

blood, vomiting, explicit sexual content.

author’s note ↯

idk this is absolute filth + a little attempt at poetry. im so sorry this is abysmal.

Surprises are not Xu Minghao’s cup of tea.

He realises this at a very young age.

When he’s riding a bike for the first time, schooling himself to grow accustomed to the unsteady glide of the vehicle. Looking out of the corner of his eye like this, a myriad of colours begin to collect in his peripheral vision. He can smell the freshly cut grass, see the enlarging manicured bushes lazing out in dusted gold, bathed in morning dew, the sight of his parents sat out on a picnic mat and he thinks he’s almost made it - just a little longer. He smiles and then grins and laughs and giggles, feeling as if he had grown wings. Then the world spins in a whirlpool of chartreuse canopies and he falls.

When he grows up, however, surprises are less dramatic but not quite different in proving to be a great displeasure to him.

When he’s 22, for starters, surprises are Seokmin’s ear damaging ‘Happy Birthday!’, a room full of people he can’t seem to recognise and an obligation to stick around talking absently about nothing when all he was planning to do was curl up in bed with a freshly minted copy of an unread book.

At 22, surprises are red coloured bars which tell him he has failed his painting course when he was sure he’d aced it.

At 22, surprises are finding catharsis for his sour mood in giving into Mingyu’s constant nagging requesting his rare presence at a stupid college party.

You arise from a blur of crimson lights and sweaty strangers. Like a newborn phoenix. A mere haze of dark clothes; a stark contrast to the vibrant tints pulsing around you, press a cool beer can to his chest and press a sloppy kiss to your mouth, as a consequence of a childish game of spin the bottle.

It’s right then that he knows that this is comprised of nothing but carnal desire. This isn’t what Minghao wants, he knows this, he wants something everything to mean something more but he just can’t help himself. The aching loneliness in him demands to be fulfilled, by something, just anything.

He shouldn’t follow you upstairs. In fact, he shouldn’t follow you anywhere. He shouldn’t press your back up against an unfamiliar bedroom door and push the hem of your outfit upwards.

Or hiss when you touch him.

Or rut his hips into yours. Or listen to the quivering moans billowing past your chapped lips, Or slide his fingers around your throat,

( a loll of your head, a sigh, his name tumbling from your lips.)

But he does anyway. He wants to.

The next morning, Minghao wakes up to a head splitting hangover. And a very, very empty bed. He kicks off the piss yellow sheets and glares at the cracked paint on Hansol’s ceiling.

When was the last time someone was in this room? Had he made you up? Definitely not.

The imprint of your body, a ghost, begs to differ. He reaches out and smoothes it over. Whatever. Minghao isn’t in the best mood.

Surprises are not his cup of tea.

....

The next meeting is at the college fair.

“You want a flower?” You lean your head to the side, hunched over the stall and he tells you a meek yes, “Those..ones.” gesturing to the pretty blues around which your hair curls.

Minghao may not know a lot but he knows it would be something ridiculous to miss, the gentle graze of your fingers against his ear when you place the pretty ring of blue atop his head.

“They’re called..?” He trails, running his finger along its slender stem. Maybe it’s the rings around your eyes or the way you bite the inside of your mouth, the subtle quality that of being peculiar makes him want to look at you longer than he should. It piques his interest.

“They’re hydrangeas.“ You supply. Minghao nods. Observing the way your nose crinkles and how you purse your lips when you think.

“I’ve never properly introduced myself.” smiling your endearing smile, you snap him right out of his thoughts. The kind of jolt one feels when they dream of falling. Mischievous eyes. Wondering eyes.

“We should..” You pause, swallowing down a chunk of words. Gaze downcast. It takes him awhile to understand that you are anxious, bashful even. Interlaced hands. Clammy. But sharp eyes. “We should do it again sometime.”

Your dealings with Minghao are so frequent that thinks he can’t quite imagine what his life would be like without it happening again.

By now he can tell your silhouette apart from everyone else’s. If he spreads his palms on your lower back and sucks on your neck, you hum and groan. If he wants, he can tell you exactly where every mark, indentation, valley and curve on your body is.

He’s been staring at an empty canvas for a while now, ideas jumbled, colours appearing together behind his lids and turning to a confusing mix of everything and nothing at all.

He’s listened to Chopin to a point where he’s convinced he can compose the andagios and allegros all by himself.

He's looked for inspiration in between violets and the cerulean sky and poetry, of course.

But it’s no use.

At the end of the day, Minghao only drowns in a sea of unfinished assignments; wallowing purposelessly in the tangerine glow of his makeshift studio, heavily caffeinated.

You coax him out the day Mingyu calls you. Dramatising his best friend’s state with a kiddish pout and flailing arms.

Minghao follows you around like a lost puppy. Resting his chin on your shoulder when you cook him a proper meal, fingers dancing along your apron. Distracted. It’s moments like these that truly confuse you; the care with which he kisses your cheek and the roughness with which he undresses you after.

What do the spaces between these differences, the oceans and hills, the softness of his sighs and the harshness of his grunts, even mean? Whatever. You haven’t fucked in a week or two.

The easel stems from the floor and curls around his primed canvas like a rose plant, thorns, pointed leaves, soft, blushing petals and he feels like he’s looking at his own reflection, devoid of ideas, faceless, empty, spotless.

Then suddenly, sighing, with a loll of his head, Minghao glances back at the bed, your bare body; streaks of rosy dusk splattered on your thighs, oranges and yellows smudged along your cheeks, the subtle rise and fall of your chest with every breath you take. A sliver of the rising sun. Summer air.

He touches his paintbrush after weeks and refuses to let go until all he can see is a waltz of reds and blues, a spin of everything he feels when he touches you. Your face. The gaps between your ribs.

He thinks, if anyone asks, he could talk about it for a good few days.

Minghao passes the semester with flying colours.

This is what happens, Jeonghan’s car grumbles, the air conditioning isn’t working and Minghao is too tall to sit with two other people at the back but he doesn’t mind because your knees are touching.

The wind blows your hair back in messy tufts. You’ve cut it shorter, upto your neck. He decides he likes it better that way.

There’s an Air Supply song playing in the background. Hansol smiles knowingly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his palms pressed firmly against the steering wheel. “That’s our song.” He says.

Then the car is still for a second. But suddenly you kick off your sneakers, bare feet on leather seats.

You giggle and giggle and giggle.

Tips of your fingers smudged of acrylic clouds. Patches of trees melting away into the amethyst sky. The sun sinking back into a blonde horizon. You’re singing loud. Laughing. You haven’t laughed this hard in a long time. The kind of laugh gives you a stomach ache. The kind of laugh that you think about for days.

Minghao thinks you’re beautiful like this.

He shouldn’t.

It’s not right.

He takes a photo.

...

We are only as remembered as long as we want to be found. Breadcrumbs. We are only remembered if we leave something behind.

The art of disappearing is something Xu Minghao is a master of, perhaps. Sometimes he turns off his phone and lies on park benches and tries to think of ways he could fit the world in his palms, mold it out of acrylic and entrap it in a picture. He is a sorcerer of sorts and magic only brews in solitude. In secret. When no one can hear him say his incantations. It’s a secret between him and the universe.

He leaves not a trace during these periods of artistry. No texts. No confusing social media applications. No boorish human beings. No hindrances.

Minghao doesn’t leave the studio for days. Not until all he sees is black and white. A monochromatic world. When bursts and explosions of platinum lightning have oozed out of the grey sky.

He rushes over to your apartment. Chasing thunderbolts. Desperate. A rainy day. A yellow bus. A knock. Two knocks. Three knocks. He arrives always. In search of colours.

You press your mouth to his before he can step foot into your room, words said between frantic kisses.

“God, where were you?” You say and he thinks you almost sound angry. His duffle bag drops with a soft thud.

He pulls your stringy dress off with a harsh tug. Hands skimming over the curve of your waist, your breasts, your skin. Goosebumps all over.

He tugs you closer by the heels of your feet. Hunching forward. Kissing you. Greedy fingers leaving you bare, shivering and craving in their wake.

A trail of sloppy kisses from the curve of your ribs to the slope of your stomach. Minghao’s fingers rest on your inner thighs, sucking in a multitude of colours. Fingers curled inside of you. Lewd squelch. Lewder whispers. Loud whines filling the room with each passing second.

He has you whining, sweaty underneath the rough pads of his fingers. Teeth scraping along the bend of your throat. Angry crescents. Minghao’s kisses on your tummy. Your fingers in his hair.

“Look at me.” He commands, holding his fingers up. Your eyes widened, glazed over. Lustful. Mischievous eyes. Wondering eyes.

If it’s you, if it’s like this, if this all you’ll ever be, wants to leave his trace, wants it to mean something, he wants to be remembered.

“Hey, stop that.” You say, covering your face with your hands. As if he hadn’t memorised it already.

Minghao’s pencil comes to a screeching halt. He’s on his stomach. Bare. Basking in the rubscent sunshine. Your sheets kiss his body, accentuating the slender shape of his waist.

Then the boy glances back and smiles. For a moment, you forget this isn’t love. This isn’t love. This isn’t supposed to be love.

Truth be told, Minghao isn’t good at sketching, he never was. He has never been quite fond of it. Minghao always imagines the world in vibrant colours. Never, in his mind, is beauty in black and white.

But in spite of his bitter exchanges with shaky borders and strange strokes before; now, he seems to excel at putting you on paper, be it in the form of ash pencil lines or splatter of colours, colours and colours, he can never seem to wrong your beauty. “Okay.”

He says and lays on his back. Wondering. Marvelling.

Your chin placed on your folded hands.

He pushes a rogue strand behind, one which always seems to keep falling over your eyes. Somehow every time you’re together, you end up like this. Craving. Touching. Never more. Never less. Can it be less? Can it be more?

No.

He shouldn’t say say or think or want something of that sort. Thinking is wanting. Wanting is saying. Saying is craving.

It isn’t right.

“Stop thinking so much.” You whisper, looking up at him with a look in your eyes that he doesn’t want to understand. Something which says more than what’s told.

Stop. He doesn’t quite stop. Minghao thinks and wants and craves. He mustn’t. Your face fits in his palms, you lean into the touch like a love starved kitten and he craves again. Wants again.

If you were a colour and not a million Minghao thinks you’d be blue.

Change. Change is strange. Sometimes you wonder how the world is frosted over, crystallised, whitened with snow and in a blink again, flowers bloom, spring comes and so comes hummingbirds. Change is strange. Sometimes you wonder how all you two share turns from mere lust to profound conversations of everything and nothing at all.

Minghao possesses a kind of intelligence that is unparalleled, he’s quick to understand thoughts and quicker to word it. You’ve been doing that quite often; talking and talking without meaning to stop. Change is strange.

“Do you believe in love?” Your voice is a low, broken thing, words barely there, airy.

"Yes.“ Minghao gazes at the sky, littered with more stars than there are in the city; the soft glow of silver lights his face up in an unusual way. A way about which you could write a thousand villanelles about.

Stars. Dim and twinkling. You wonder how many of them must have aligned for you to have found each other. Incomplete. Your half said words hang in the air. This comfort is peculiar.

Silence has never been an unpleasant thing before. You’re laid down with your arms and legs spread apart, gaze upcast.

Between the two of you, the wet patch of sand feels like a dried ocean, deserted. Lonely. The foamy sea lilts and sings and calls you to her; but you only lay silent, unmoved.

Minghao reaches out and interlaces your fingers. Hope is a funny thing. Desire is a funny thing. He doesn’t understand what it means to say a lot but speak no words at all. His hand tingles from where you rub your thumb. It’s the first time you’re together. But unbare.

This comfort is peculiar.

He’ll always remember; your shoulders erecting to mountains. Your eyes red and swollen, portions and bits of a conversation about a lost lover. The first time he saw you. Hansol’s piss yellow blankets. Seven minutes in a closet. Heated kisses. Your heart in shambles.

Minghao wonders what it means to love like that. Love that stays even when people don’t.

The sky is suddenly darker than before; mighty ravenous clouds seem to have gobbled down constellations after constellations. It’s going to rain again.

“Do you?“ He asks and you almost look, Minghao thinks, like you’re about to cry.

He wonders why it bothers him, why it makes him want to reach out and pull you to him. But he doesn’t, of course.

He shouldn’t.

It’s not right.

Something in your eyes is forlorn. Tight lipped. Sometimes he wishes he had a stethoscope to hear your thoughts, the ones you don’t unveil, despite your much fabled bravado.

You sit back, glance at him and smile briefly. Strange. Undercurrents. Tempted to trace your lips like it were brail. He wants to know what it means, the downward tilt of your mouth.

You’re insolent, an offensive girl, insulting every pretty scenery around you with your very strange beauty. Messy hair, moonlight kissing up your naked face, circles around your widening eyes and closing, parting mouth , like you’re trying to remember something or rather forget. He wishes his camera were with him.

"I can’t.” You say and the pain in your voice startles him.

"You can.“ Minghao corrects, sliding closer you. Toes touching. Bumping into each other. How one could think they can’t be reduced to the foolishness of a lover is beyond his understanding. Everyone can be a fool. In their own ways, of course. Everyone can fall in love. They just choose to. They just choose not to.

“Of course you can.” He says, sounding slightly injured by your ludicrous comment. Always flared up and cross. You rest your head on his shoulder. Stifling a laugh. It’s moments like these that truly confuse you, the gap between your bodies and the yearning to close it.

Believe in love;

You can.

You do.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

Sometimes love lasts forever. Sometimes love gives you reason and makes you believe. Sometimes love is soft whispers, never wilting roses. Sometimes love is forever and always. Sometimes love is the tranquil sea. Sometimes love is comfort and trust. Like the first touch of spring.

Such was not true for Yuta and you.

Yuta fell in love with you one winter morning and fell out every other.

Sometimes you wonder if he had been a phantom. If you were touching air. If you had imagined him all along.

You remember tracing your finger along his back, bumps and drops of his spine, trying to find the man you loved once. You remember kissing him, touching him, undressing him, aching for him to look at you the way he did. To tell you he loved you back. To mean it when he did. You should’ve seen it coming.

When it happens it happens so unsurprisingly. When it happens it happens so surprisingly.

You get off class early. A trail of clothes at your feet. It’s a funny thing, watching someone take away everything you love. It’s a funny thing watching someone give away everything you love.

“Get out.” You say to him with a straight face.

You want to stop him.

“Fine.” Yuta shrugs, sighing, running a hand through his hair. You wonder how many times he’s held her with those hands. Has he ever thought of you when he fucked her? Did he feel sorry for you every time you kissed him? Did he have a good laugh when you weren’t around?

He looks back one last time; as if to say you can pull me back and tell me you love me. You can drag me back and tell me it’s okay. You can forgive me and we will go back to bed. Like nothing ever happened.

Your mouth parts. Words pleading to escape. I love you. Was I not enough?

"I never want to see you again.“ You grit out instead. The door shuts with a soft thud.

You don’t stop him.

...

Minghao hisses when you drag your tongue down his abdomen. Your hair entangled between the gaps of his fingers.

You meet his eyes, watery and widened. Taking him in. “Fuck.” A sight you’ll never share. Afraid someone will steal it from you. A sight which only belongs to you. His brows knitted together, mouth parted in a silent moan.

He cums with a groan and you wipe the corner of your mouth clean, lean on your palms and say, “Happy birthday.”

...

You don’t understand Minghao.

Sometimes he calls you his darling and takes you to his bedroom. Undresses you with care and care and care.

And other times he walks past you like you don’t exist.

...

Nasty wet trails travel down your spine like liquid serpents. They bite your clothes, twist their heads around your lower back and cling onto your skin like they would swallow it whole. It’s summer and your mouth is very dry.

“Hold still.” He scolds. Tapping your bare thighs so you stop moving it so much.

Minghao’s head is in your lap, face shielded from the lurid orange sun. Shaded by a reddened poetry book which says Robert Frost. Your face invisible. Only a hint of your eyebrows. He pulls it back.

“Hey!” You exclaim, trying to seize it but he tucks it away, under his bum. A complacent grin breaking out on his face. All teeth and no shame.

“I hate you so much.“ You say, sighing and brush away a few strands from his face. He’s pretty like this. Skin aglow, brown eyes suddenly an astonishing liquid gold. Honey.

You’ve been falling.

Minghao sits up suddenly, solemn look on his face. Amused no longer. He presses his mouth to yours. Beating heart and clashing teeth. Fingers holding your jaw in place. “That’s not true.” He says, swiping his thumb over your swollen lips.

You don’t understand Minghao.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

He’s drunk.

Minghao rests his head against your chest and draws circles into your stomach. Falling. You might be falling.

It scares you.

"I’ve got to go.“ You say suddenly. Body cold as the warmth of his own slips away. He’s sitting up on his bed.

He is the prettiest tonight.

Face still rubicund. Pitch black strands gone rogue,falling over his eyes. He swallows thickly. Adam’s apple bobbing.

He’s had too much to drink.

“Stay.” He says, pulling you back, looking up at you with big doe eyes. He tugs you closer. Ear pressed to your tummy. Arms looped around you.

If he doesn’t hold on tight, the whole world starts to spin. He wants to hold on tight. He always has.

“I want you to.” He whispers with such sincerity, you think you might turn to liquid.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

Minghao doesn’t remember.

He stares at you. Your body pressed to his. The bend of your spine and your eyes clamped shut. Your hair always unkempt. His fingers yearn for a paintbrush.

His memory is a haze. A swirl of blurriness. A gaping cavern. How did he even get here? In your arms, your lips parted, face buried in his chest. The soft beating of your heart.

You’re awake. He knows.

He can tell. You only tap your feet when you’re awake.

His body slides away from yours.

“We’re late.” He says, his voice all garbled, like the sound was hindered by a rock lodged deep inside his throat. “What happened last night?“

Words seem to be a foreign thing to you for a minute. You look to him and pretend. How do you tell him?

You think of his ear pressed to your stomach and his beautiful eyes, a magnificent ebony looking up at you. You think of thinking. How you’ve been doing too much of it. Minghao elbows you, demanding an answer.

“Nothing.” You say and are surprised by how true it sounds.

You don’t want to be awake

⊱ ────────── ⊰

Melancholy has a peculiar way of coming. Sauntering away in her bluest gown. She meets you often. When you’re drowning in midnight ruminations. When you listen to the most sublime tunes humans have ever crafted. Today she comes suddenly, when you’re watching a movie you’re not watching. Feet propped up on Junhui’s lap. She comes in her bluest gown.

See you’ve been talking for an hour and your jaw hurts.

Junhui and you sit in a discomfiting quietude. He’s been your best friend through thick and thin. Through untamed pigtails and pubertal bacne. Through bad relationships and good. He’s known you long enough to know when you’re lying and when you’re not.

“You know.” He gulps. Looking at his hands. “The way the way you talk about Minghao…like you’re ready to take a bullet for him…it’s..”

“Is that a bad thing?” Your head snaps in his direction, you look annoyed. He winces. “No.” Nervously, he keeps tapping his foot. “Not if you love him.”

“Do you?” He nudges you. Then you tilt your head back and think of nothing and everything.

Your head weighty, inundated with thoughts of him. You keep thinking of Minghao’s smile. You think of his giggles.Stay . His smile. I want you to .

It isn’t until Junhui touches your face, a flick of his index, a tender thing; do you realise you’ve been crying. “I’m scared.” you say, leaning into his touch.

The older male smiles knowingly, passing the bucket of popcorn to you. Junhui is patient. Wordlessly taking your hand in his. He looks so unsurprised it scares you.

"I know.” He says, with no rancour or judgment. As if he has been looking at the insides of your head for long now.

When you were little you doubted the sweet voiced boy had the superhuman power of reading your mind. Knowing when your mum scolded you. Knowing when you wanted to cry and when you wanted to laugh. When you wanted an extra gummy bear. What if he knows now? What if he hears you think he doesn’t love me back? What if he hears you think I am in love with him, I have never been in love like this, what if?

"Let go.“ Junhui suggests, meeting your eyes with a kind of warning which perplexes you. A grand affirmation of all your fears. “It’s not good for you.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

It’s dark outside and you’re lying on his arm, listening to his pulse. Bodies flush against each other.

When you look up; Minghao is staring intently at the ceiling fan, mouth parted, eyes widened, he’s looking at one thing and seeing a million. You wonder what he thinks so arduously about. Then you lean over and press your lips to his. He hums and smiles and laughs against your mouth, “I love you.“

It’s a tragic thing, the quickness of these words falling off of your lips. Minghao stops smiling. You think he stops thinking too. He sees one thing now. “It’s late. We should sleep.” He says suddenly, clearing his throat. As if words had clogged up inside.

Inside your chest, something turns to smithereens.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

It isn’t his fault. It’s not your fault.

“Don’t go.” You whisper to Minghao, a reiteration, a lost memory you’re trying to relive. He sighs and glances briefly at you from the corner of his eye.

"We aren’t supposed to do this.“ It’s more of a thought than it is a suggestion, an idea he renders just to catch your reaction.

For a second, it’s so quiet that he can hear the soft plops of raindrops against your windows. Home. Suddenly he misses Anshan. Feeling rather uprooted when you unlace your fingers from his.

Minghao thinks summers are beautiful, he thinks sunflowers are yellow and that you shouldn’t date.

The words feel deafening to hear. But you’ve always been good at hiding your feelings. Phenomenal, actually. So you ignore your aching heart with no difficulty. “You’re right.” You say, “We shouldn’t.”

Sometimes we find things we aren’t searching for, sometimes we’re told things we don’t want to hear. Minghao thinks it’s the price we pay for not speaking our minds.

“Oh.” He says, sounding a little disappointed.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

It’s funny how it’s so aggravatingly sunny outside.

In your head, it only rains when you are in pain. A reflection of your sorrows. The whistling wind. The hissing thunder. The ugly lightning. Inner storms.

But today, it rains not a drop. Despite you feeling like you’re being torn apart.

Has anything in your head ever been real? Have you conjured up the very idea of Minghao? Is he only an outline of a person you’ve filled in with imagination? A skeleton fleshed out of your pet desires?

Maybe.

Today his thrusts are sloppy, he groans into your skin and you hold onto him like you’re about to let go any second, like you’re losing him.

“I gotta go.”

He studies your face intently, finding that you have something to say in response. Maybe it’ll be a scold. Maybe it won’t be a scold. Whatever. He doesn’t expect you to look at him the way you do. With a kind of spark in your eyes which begins to die out.

“We should end this.” You sigh and Minghao waits for you to say more. For the mischievous glint. For you to say you’re just kidding. Like you always do. For you to say something, anything at all.

“Is it..is it about last night?” He queries, pausing.

“Because..I..” you look at him with a sudden sharpness, something that says stop me, please stop me. But he says nothing. He forgets that words are a thing at all. You look away.

What is unsaid tastes like blood on his tongue. Like blades. Hurtful. He’s trying to touch your shoulder, to see if you’re real.

You sink into the mattress.Looking rather defeated.

“No.” You lie. You sound like a different person. Someone who is brave. Someone who isn’t you.

He kneels between your legs, tugging onto your shorts, sighing. Hopeful eyes searching your face over and over again. “Don’t come back.” You say softly. Not meeting his eyes still. Afraid you’ll give into the temptation of retracting the previous demand. You can’t look at him.

“You always want me to come back.” He whispers, voice heavy. As if he were clinging onto it for dear life. A dying tree to its roots. A sinking ship to its broken anchor.

This isn’t love, this isn’t supposed to be love. You remind yourself again.

Only this time it sounds like an excuse, a poor attempt at concealing the awful pain inside your chest.

“Not this time. This time you can go.”

Your sheets still smell like him. Your shirts still smell like him. Minghao has managed to entangle himself in every aspect of your life.

You wonder how long it’ll take for you to get rid of him. How many washes, detergents and days, months, years.

“Okay.” He says, nodding.

Let go. Junhui’s hand in yours. I love you. Minghao’s involuntary giggle when you say something witty. His bare body on your mattress. It’s not good for you.

Minghao turns into a dot of charcoal against the firmament. The groaning motorbike of his now soundless.

You don’t stop him.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

Something like this was bound to happen. It was waiting to happen from the start. It was waiting to happen from the end.

You arrive late at Wonwoo’s party and Minghao’s shoving his tongue down some other girl’s throat. The bottle’s been spun in unfortunate circles, a turn of fate.

Your friends say nothing. Speaking of this and that, anything but how Minghao’s probably fucking someone else’s brains out upstairs. You feel stupid.

“You okay?” Mingyu asks suddenly, you're surprised.

He’s Minghao’s best friend after all. Does he pity you this much? To traipse through restricted territories, comforting you in the most comforting way there is? You decide friendship and pity are parted only by the thinnest line.

Mingyu is your friend too.

“Yeah.” You reply, smiling briefly.

A soothing hand on the small of your back. A reminder of how you’re real and this is real, definitely not a nightmare.

Across the room, with the booming music ricocheting off pasty walls, a background of sweaty strangers and twists of neon, Junhui is looking at you.

No, that’s not right.

He’s looking through you.

You want to throw up.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

You think about sunlight caught in his eyes. Sunflowers in his hair. The way he shivers you when kiss his throat. You think of him once and twice and three times. You can’t stop. You mustn’t.

“What are you doing?” Junhui’s voice echoes through the bathroom. “Are you okay?“ He watches his dearest friend lean over the toilet seat.

You don’t know what to say. You’re looking at a ring of hydrangeas, afloat in a pool of your own blood and bile. And suddenly you know this means something, this always has.

...

Minghao catches your glaring eye and he’s surrounded by a thicket of roses,they are a kind of pink that is more orange than pink. He is painting. Birds warble and the wind hits his fringe to provide an unobstructed view of his face.

The next morning you spend an hour cleaning blood out of your sink. The same soft petals circling him, accompanied by vicious thorns. And you think it’s worth it, to die like this, to die for love.

...

He thinks of your smile often. Tries to commit the curve to his memory like he’ll forget it otherwise. Perhaps that is what he fears. Forgetting you. Your face. Your smile. Your voice. He fears to never be able to paint you again. Perhaps if he had forgotten, you’d cease to exist.

“I can’t do this.” He says to the nameless girl, her lipstick smudged.

It’s not right. It doesn’t feel right.

He yearns to run his fingers through your unkempt hair; he can’t stop thinking about you, your roaring laugh and your poetry, your heart, your fingers. Your imperfections. The bend of your spine and the slope of your neck.

Minghao searches for you in other people and finds only a gaping hole.

...

Minghao keeps having a recurring dream, one dream amongst thousands. He’s had it since he was a child.

He’s swimming at first, halving sapphire water with every stroke; whilst the sun shines above him. A spotlight.

He’s alone one moment and then he isn’t. Then he is in a meadow, a green meadow, a brilliant green that is too green to be just grass and not shards of emerald.

He’s lying down, head rested on his folded arms, the sky is cobalt, not a cloud in sight.

Peculiarly enough, in his dream, he knows he is in love and it is with someone who lies with him.

The first time he has this dream, he is 13. It teaches him to touch a paintbrush. To flirt with paint and fall in love with colours. Passion no longer latent. At 13, his lover is faceless.

Now, he lies in the same meadow, he looks to his beloved, anticipating the same blank outline he always has seen

and finds your smiling face instead.

...

Junhui swears at Henry James often. Unable to decipher whatever the hell the author drones on about. One time he flung his copy of The Wings Of The Dove and watched it tear into two miserable halves of stupidly sophisticated words.

But you understand him. You pick up the torn pages and glue them together. You understand Henry James.

The Turn Of The Screw. Horror in places that aren’t horrific.

A kiss of autumn. The commencement of reds, darker browns and crunchy leaves. Not horrific. Minghao is looking at you, vines of steam from his coffee, brick red beret. He’s looking right at you. Not everything around you. Not autumnal beauty to catch inspiration from and spill it on his canvas.

...

Minghao used to love someone once.

A rattling thing inside his chest. He was young, too trusting and a blatant stranger to the jolting ache of unrequited love which comes when she quickly turns him down.

He promises to never love like this again.

Fast and unsteady. Without reason. Without logic. Unconditionally.

He thinks of your fingers, smaller against his. He thinks of dusk laying atop your body. He thinks of the rings around your eyes. The curls of your eyelashes. He thinks of blue.

(Minghao has never been good at making promises.)

⊱ ────────── ⊰

It’s past midnight and you’re waiting for melancholy to visit like she always does. But she never comes. Never in her bluest dress. Never anymore.

You haven’t been coughing up flowers for a few weeks now.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

Nervous is a laughable understatement.

There’s an elephant in the room and its squeezing Minghao’s throat with its trunk, crushing the poor thing to dust.

The café is anything but silent. Soft music. Buzzing with teenagers. Loquacious couples. In between all the unspeakably loud bustling, Minghao is surprised to find that he can only hear Junhui’s tapping foot. The tings of Joshua’s phone. Hansol’s low humming. Minghao clears his throat. “I think .. I’m in love with her.” He says, sitting straight suddenly. He blurts it out like it’s a grand revelation.

Junhui silently sips his drink. He’s only decided to see the younger male because he was offered brownies.. Minghao investigates silently, eyes darting all over his friends’ face. Hansol nods. Joshua says nothing but offers a huge grin. Unsurprised. He was expecting a parted mouth at least, if not dropping jaws.

It’s only Junhui who breaks the obnoxious silence. “You’re the last to find out.” He says finally, narrowing his eyes. Minghao frowns.

⊱ ─────────�� ⊰

He’s wearing the same shirt that he wore the first time you saw him. Baby blue. Sheer. Smiling. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Then your stomach twists. Finally, in your head echoes a delirious laugh. How foolish it was to get one’s hopes up.

You wonder what it will be this time, perhaps lavender, perhaps a water lily, perhaps wisteria.

But nothing comes.

You only find your own reflection, staring back at you, gaping eyes emerging from dirty ash toilet water. Then you try the sink.

Nothing comes.

"When were you going to tell me you were dying?“ You jump,turning and finding him leaning on the door frame.

Arms crossed. Minghao has the audacity to look offended.

“When were you going to tell me you’re in love with me?” You say instantaneously, frowning. If nothing comes now. If nothing comes for weeks. No thorns. No flowers. It means what you think it means. You’re glancing at him from the bathroom mirror. He shuts the door. Just the two of you.

Craving and Wanting. Thinking.

It isn’t wrong.

Wanting you isn’t wrong.

A ring on his little finger. He rubs his nape. Sheepish smile on his face. “I was hoping now.. isn’t a terrible time.”

You’re sitting on the ceramic ringlet of the sink, feet dangling. Like a child, you jut your lip out “It is.“

See you don’t mind the way he comes to you. Standing in between your legs. Foreheads pressed together. Fingers entwined. The oceans and hills. The gaps between your bodies. The tear in your heart. Forever closed.

“You're trying to seduce me.” You frown, and he’s laughing and giggling, fingers tilting your chin upwards.

“Am I not succeeding?"

You shake your head a no. Toying with the hairs dropping over his eyes. "Failing miserably.” He recognises your jests in an instant. Mischievous eyes. Wondering eyes.

Then he kisses you, soft and lingering. Muffled words pressed against your lips.

“I love you.” He says, breathless. Eyes widened. Lips swollen. He thinks you’re driving him a little insane now. Searching your face for an answer. “If I didn’t love you back…” You say, nails painted a kind of wine red that never should be unsweetened, “I wouldn’t be dying.” Thank you for saving me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for saving my life.

You tug Minghao closer by the ends of his outgrown hair and kiss him a little dizzy. He thinks you’ve been driving him insane ever since you’ve met him.

⊱ ────────── ⊰

A cream envelope in hand, velvet under his fingers, a present amongst many presents. You’re wearing his shirt. The fabric reaching right below the curve of your bum. Speed Hunter scribbled on in chalky white. “I’ve tolerated you for an entire year.” You say and press your mouth to his. A tingly sensation in his tummy. It almost feels as if he’s swallowed a jar of butterflies.

Surprises are not Xu Minghao’s cup of tea. Seokmin’s screams still scare him, he falls off bikes and still fails courses sometimes.

But still, he, too, unwittingly, finds himself falling in love with a villanelle called Stars.

Your name inscribed underneath.

3K notes · View notes

delicrieux · 4 years

Note

Hello! May I have a one-shot with Kylo being injured and reader, who is part of the resistance, finds him and takes care of him? Thanks!

idk how this turned out to be 5k words but WHEW i mean if ppl want me to continue it im down so send in sum request of wat u think should happen!! xoxo gossip girl

requests are open! | masterlist | part 2.

Fear. The kind that makes it hard to breathe as if you are kept underwater; the kind that makes your muscles clench and freeze as all senses flow out one by one. Today had been almost too typical — you woke up, you trained, you talked to your comrades and learned battle strategy — and you were certain your evening walk would be just as uneventful. The breeze in your hair was playful; the setting sun provided warm light and set your surroundings in a pleasant, rosy glow. You like the fresh air; you like exploring; you like the freedom that comes with being alone in wilderness. And in turn, it serves as a reminder for why you are fighting in the first place. To preserve this peace, this freedom, that now has been tarnished when you stumble upon a body.

For a heartbeat you think he’s dead — his expression is lifeless and his face, pale as first snow, is bruised, covered in soot and dried blood. Willing your legs to move, you approach cautiously, not breathing, afraid to break the shrill, sudden silence — no birdsong, no wails of wind passing through trees… nothing. Life had, at that moment, stilled completely. But as you draw closer, grass crunching under your feet softly, you intake a breath of both relief and surprise. Dark locks of hair spray on his forehead and obscure the minuscule knit of his brows, his trembling lashes. He’s alive. The thought consumes you and you fall to your knees, skidding beside him, pushing his hair from his face and landing your palm on his forehead.

It’s awfully cold. Chilling. Almost biting at your sensitive flesh, urging you to pull away. It rolls in waves, this sudden cold, sudden sickness, as if it is a virus that spreads and you have caught it with this minimal contact. But you don’t pull away, despite the near overwhelming urge to do so, despite the fear returning with a new blow. Instead you glide your fingers down his jaw and press on his neck, breaking into a small, crooked smile once you feel a slow drum against them. He is alive, but barely. You glance about him, looking around the area. Nothing out the ordinary, no branches broken, no bushes disturbed and no trails left on the grass. How he got here is a mystery that will have to be solved a different time.

You hope he will tell you once he wakes up, if he even wakes up at all.

That, and, his name, too.

Your base is small and tugged away in a dense jungle, the tall trees and heat warding from unwanted visitors — the First Order. The compartments are small; there are barely above a few dozen people here; it serves more as a safe haven for lost wanderers looking for a cause or shelter, or a backup base in case others were destroyed and the rebels had nowhere to go. It is far away enough from war. Everyone here is, to some extent, safe.

You had never been on the front lines. You had never faced a Storm Trooper, had never seen the Force at work — if there even is such a thing, speculations speculations, nothing consistent, merely gossip — and you had never seen a dead body. Perhaps that is why you froze up so terribly at the sight of him. Perhaps that’s why you felt as if a void opened within you, swallowing up the last shred of light, of life, and leaving you hollow.

You should get used to the sight, though. There will be many dead in battle.

He’s the only one occupying a bed in the Medical Wing and he hasn’t woken up for two days now. His vitals are stable — no internal bleeding, no disease detected, nothing out of place as it seemed. But he is lost in deep sleep, constantly dreaming about something that made him tremble and muss and toss and turn, but never wake. It is entirely bizarre how his state is simply there, caused by no injury, no blow, nothing. And the more you take care of him… the more questions you get.

You eat in the cafeteria, a vast enough, pale walled space occupied by few people during lunch time. Next to you sits a blue eyed, blonde haired cherubic woman – she serves as the doctor, the only doctor here. She smiles lightly at you when you catch her gaze. You had always wondered why her name is Vendetta.

The amount of denizens is small here, so small in fact that the only ones serving under this branch is a rag tag team of scavengers, travelers, nobodies that had abandoned their old lives to fight in this war. Rebels, quite literally, with a cause. Many have taken new names. Vendetta, too, had a name before this, a life, a different purpose. Though her odd choice leads you to believe that what ever had happened to drive her here was painful and severe, deserving justice. In front of you sits a tall, bony, brown haired, brow eyed mechanic with a scar running down half of their face – Q. And beside them, July – you had never seen him smiling, had never heard his voice hold a tender note in it. He is always displeased. Always with a frown.

“Seven.” Vendetta calls you, noting your blank stare, the untouched food in your plate. Seven. You chose this because you were the seventh child in your family, and, subsequently, the seventh person to join the Resistance when this base first opened.

“She’s probably thinking about the stranger.” Q mutters, taking a sip, “His origins are…” They glance about, leaning in slightly, “ A hot topic, after all.”

“We get injured wanderers all the time.” Vendetta waves them off, “As if he’s any different.”

“I don’t think we should be so quick to dismiss him, V.” July grumbles, his voice low, the sound of crunching gravel. He sits with his arms crossed over his chest, observing the three of you with something akin to hostility, “You never know who may be working for the Order.”

“You can’t just assume that.” You pipe up, “He might just be another gambler dropped by the Floating Casino because he couldn’t pay his debts.”

“Or he might be a spy.” July stresses, glaring.

“No one knows there is a base here.” You continue, unrelenting, “Half the Resistance doesn’t know it exists, how can someone from the Order?”

“Still, I advice we exercise caution.” Q says calmly, a pleasant smile on their face — if anyone can defuse an argument before it starts, it’s them, “You never know what people are hiding, Seven.”

“Okay,” Vendetta chimes, “I will certainly not disclose this vital information when the man awakes from his comatose state. I shall make sure to confuse and frighten him further by chaining him to his bed.”

“Good.” July says.

“That is not what I had in mind, and you know it.” Q mutters, a tad disappointed, “I was thinking more along the lines of… An interview.”

“Too civil.” July mumbles, “I say we go with Vendetta’s idea.”

“That was not an idea,” She hisses, “it was sarcasm.”

“Fine, interview.” You submit, “Either way, I doubt anyone from the Order would not say they are from there. They are feared. Probably would think he has the upper hand, or something. Plus, our disguise is impeccable. We look like a research facility. Better yet, a shelter if no one wanders up to the main rooms.”

“I also sincerely doubt anyone, Order or not, is so good at lying first thing when they wake up.” Vendetta agrees.

July narrows his eyes at her, “That is an awfully naive observation to make.”

“Really now? It is a known fact that people half-asleep always tell the truth.”

Another hour of this and you feel drained and sore and with a mild headache. As much as their company has helped you, they can be a bit too eager to prove one another wrong. On most occasions you’d enjoy the chatter. Today, however, you feel too distracted to focus on anything. Q makes some good points, July argues, Vendetta and her biting comments pick at your skin. Always the blazing look in her eyes, always a certain gleam of anger hiding within her mellow, sweet tone. You excuse yourself when you finish your meal and they do not keep you from leaving. Perhaps they noticed you being out of it. Perhaps they were too caught up in their new topic – Lo and Chester’s sudden break up.

It does not take you long to come to the Medical Wing. The door shuts with a silent sweep and your heart drops – the bed is empty. Before you can do much else strong arms wrap around you from behind. With a yelp you feel a hand squeeze your throat and your breath leaves you with a helpless whine, sparks flying in your vision. Your reflexes kick in before you can control them. In a panic, you elbow your attacker in the chest and the grip loosens a bit, enough to allow you to escape and put some distance. Inhaling mouthfuls of air, you turn to the man that had been sleeping since you found him in the wilderness.

You never quite realized how tall he is, or how angry he could be. He’s confused and you see fire in his eyes, a sneer on his face, and he stands unmoving, waiting for you to try something, anything, so that he could grab you and try to kill you again.

You raise your hands, palms up —a fragile, harmless motion to indicate you mean no harm. His guard is still up. He’s heaving and his shoulders are tense, his gaze not once leaving your form, “…Hi,” You wheeze, almost voiceless, “I’m not here to hurt you.” You indicate softly. Cold, again, as if thrown into a bottomless ocean; body heavy, like a stone. You gulp. “Are you alright?” You question gently, afraid to provoke him again. “You must be tired. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Where am I?” His voice is deep and scratchy and it seems to set him off. He trembles from anger, you can almost feel the steady build up of rage in his chest, ”Who are you?”

“I’m Seven.” You introduce, “I found you outside our base. Do you know how you got here?”

He takes a threatening step forward and your arms shoot higher, “I’m not your enemy.” You insist, “You are not a prisoner here. You were dying and I wanted to help you.”

He regards you for a silent moment as if unsure whether to believe you or not. However, you sense that he will not try to hurt you, for now at least. You give him a shaky smile, trying to ease him — you cannot imagine how frightening it is to awake in some room among strangers and not knowing where you are or what had happened. “Do you…know your name?” You continue your questions, your arms slowly falling by your sides. After another pause, he nods curtly, “Good. That’s good.” you step away from his bed, “Please, lie down. You’re still recovering. No shady business, I promise.”

You are a bit surprised that he listens, but you don’t show it. He’s cautious, regarding you as if you were some dangerous animal cornering him, and his walk is sluggish. You can tell it’s hard for him to move, but don’t say anything. You doubt it would do any good. He finally sits down and just stares at you. You try to smile again, “Do you know how you got here? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“How long have I been here for?” He asks instead.

“Two full days in the base.” You say calmly, “But out there?” You vaguely motion with your head to the outside world, “I don’t know.”

Your answer unnerves him. For the first time his frown falls and he stares at you with big eyes and a trembling lip, as if a lost child not knowing what to do. That expression warps suddenly and he looks away, his hands gripping the side of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Well, if there is…anything you need…” You start mildly, “You can call upon me. Or Vendetta. She’s the doctor here, so if you feel any pain or sickness, you should tell her. She’s sweet.” You smile, “And she will help. But right now, just try to rest…I’ll…leave you to it.”

You bolt past him to the door but– “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

You turn back to him, shaking your head lightly, “No. But it doesn’t matter. A lot of adventures come through here, lost and injured. You aren’t the first one. Now rest, please.”

He’s volatile, is what you learn upon the first days of his resurrection. His mood can change in a flip of a coin and he goes from placid to enraged in a blink of an eye. Tantrums, yelling — all signatures of a spoiled child not knowing what he has but simply wanting to break it. He’s nobility, or so your peers gossip. You hear snippets of all sorts of things, each more outrageous than the one before. The one that he is a prince kicked out of home for adultery seems to be the most popular one.

And he’s egotistical. He had not been, besides the attempted murder, that hostile and untamed towards you — the choking you told no one about as you concluded he simply felt threatened and scared. Though his other tantrums you are not so quick to chalk up as self-defense. Vendetta, exasperated, one evening told you that she somehow offended him — ”All I said is stop pouting because you need my help!” — and he, with a bruised ego, so high and mighty promptly jumped out of bed. Whatever he was trying to do backfired — perhaps he was trying to leave, or trying to grab something and to hit her with — but he slipped and fell and hit his head into the sharp corner of table. “And I said to him, oh I said: look what you’ve done now! Off to bed, quickly!” Vendetta finished bitterly, stabbing her fork idly into her food, possibly imagining his face there. His nose, much to V’s displeasure, was not broken, but an ugly gash and a dark bruise split his skin in half and he laid in bed sulking for at least a day.

As the week passed, he seemed to favor your company the most. It is not that he smiled and joked and laughed in your presence, and you were not exchanging secrets or hugging or even calling each other friends. He simply seemed to be more mellow around you, possibly because you oddly knew what to say and what to keep silent. It is as if you sensed the subtle shift of his moods; could read his expressions in a way no one could, perhaps no one tried. And you would come and visit him as often as you could when relieved of your duties — you felt responsible for him in a way, and you wondered if you would still feel this weight on your shoulders when he eventually left this place. After all it was you that had found him lying in the grass; it was you that had insisted to help him; and now, it is you that brings him food and tries to provide some comfort in a form of conversation. You don’t pry into his past, don’t even ask for his name, because you know he does not want to give it, and you won’t risk questioning in fear of another explosion of his temper. You talk about inconsequential things: what’s happening around the base, what sort of plants grow around here, what bugs could kill him before he took two steps. He especially enjoys hearing the rumors about him, even if he is too prideful to admit that they amuse him greatly.

“And what if I am?” He questions one evening, something akin to a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a kind hazel color that could be beautiful if not for the persistent angry spark within them that is now, seemingly, vacant, watch you closely.

You frown softly, “Are what?” You question, “A prince?” He nods. You snort, “Well then, your majesty, I shall make sure to inform the others. What will be your first decree?”

He pretends to think, “No more slacking around.” He says sternly, “This is supposed to be a military base, isn’t it?” He ends on a cheeky note. You gulp. Ah, yes, you might have let it slip that he’s in one of the Resistance’s safe houses, though you did not disclose the coordinates.

“On a mission to make fun illegal, are you?” You ask with a raised brow.

He frowns, “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Childish, really, though you suppose it is better than arguing with July.

You feel it before you hear it— rain and thunder. The merciless patter on the roof and on your window. In night the sound is almost deafening — a loud roar of an engine, followed by cracks of lightning and flashes in the dark sky. You would have slept through it if not for the pins and needles washing your skin behind the warm sheets thrown on your body. You stir. Thunder roars and a flash of bright white light illuminates your room and seeps through the cracks of your lashes. Cold, again, as if standing in the middle of a storm.

You finally sit up, rubbing your face and then looking around to see if your friends are playing some sort of joke on you. You were almost certain they had dragged you outside and left you to get drenched. But you are alone in your room and you frown and shiver from the biting cold. Groggily you throw the sheets away and leave your bed, not entirely certain where you are going but there is a pull in your gut and half-asleep you follow it. You think you might still be dreaming —the rain on your dry skin feels real, though all dreams feel real until you awake. You leave the dormitories and take the elevator to the first floor. The base is silent, save for the shrill of machinery. Finally, still in your pajamas and almost fully awake, you step past the main entrance and stop.

It’s pouring, a curtain of rain obscuring the confusing contours of trees and leaves and bushes. The darkness does not help. A bleak light pulses to life once you pass the sensor and your surroundings illuminate. Thunder, lighting, more rain. You stand safe and dry under the roof, and he stands at the very edge of it, half soaking, his face kissed and washed by the rain.

You are not sure what to think. He seems lonely standing there surrounded by darkness and water. It’s whispers, or something akin to that, that urge and beseech that he does not want to be alone. You hear them somewhere in the back of your mind. If he noticed you, and he should have with the light suddenly on, he does not show it. You approach him slowly, your footsteps concealed over the heavy drum of rain.

“Not used to it, are you?” You ask, your voice followed by a bolt of thunder. He stirs, head tilting in your direction. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet — there is no hostility in them, no anger, just a distant sadness. You give him a soft smile, “I can tell you don’t see it often. I didn’t, either, at first. I grew up surrounded by deserts and I had not seen a drop of rain for at least eighteen years. But, here… Well, there’s no shortage of it. We have storms at least once a week. You’ll grow sick of it before you leave, trust me.”

He says nothing, still looking at you. The light sniffs out. Both of you stand unmoving.

“Why are you here?” He asks, a note of genuine confusion slipping past his calm tone.

“I… don’t know.” You admit. A frown pulls on your brows and you bite your lower lip, staring into the heavy curtain of rain, “I…I really don’t know.” You turn to him, “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, savoring the silence. Then, “I got bored laying in bed.” Somehow you feel that anxiety has more to do with his sudden nightly venture, rather than actual boredom. Though, you suppose it is quite tedious doing nothing all day. You imagine he is active, judging by his built. He has a strong character and he knows what he wants (most of the time), or rather has a distinct sense of what he doesn’t want. You imagine he’d be a good commander, or leader, with his deep voice and unrelenting stare, if only he wasn’t so sensitive. He’s too unpredictable. Too uncontrollable. His emotions get the better of him too quickly for him to be unbiased. For that reason alone you deem him unfit to be a spy, or a soldier, or a figure of military power. He’d burn all he would build if that were the case. No, him being of noble birth and being stranded here as some sort of twisted punishment sounds believable enough.

“What are you thinking?” He questions, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hum, ponder whether you should be honest with him or not. “Don’t lie to me.” He says suddenly and you jolt, heart drumming painfully in your chest. For a frightening moment you figured he could read your mind. Then again, you have been spending a lot of time together. He must have noticed how gentle you are with him, how carefully you pick your words. His signature frown is back, you see it for a second when lightning strikes.

“I was thinking about your life.” You admit, “Your work. Whether you really are a royal as most of my crew mates seem to think.”

Flash. You see half a smile blooming on his lips.

“But I know you won’t tell me. Don’t worry, I get it. Ladies love a mystery.”

“What?”

It’s your turn to grin, “Oh, please, it’s almost all I hear about. Seven brought a brooding stranger with a secret past into the base. Lo…Michel… Two of your rapid admirers. I already told you that your arrival has sparked many speculations.”

“I…I haven’t…” He sounds uncertain, flustered almost, as if embarrassed, but there is no way he is, you refuse to believe it. He stumbles upon his words and lastly says nothing. You snicker silently. Another flash of lightning and you see the same confused, puppy-like look on his face you have had the pleasure of seeing once or twice. He does not shield it this time, this moment of vulnerability. He probably doesn’t see the point because darkness obscures everything again.

You extend your hand to him as a silent offering. How many things have you offered him now? Life, health, your company. He regards it, ponders a bit, lastly gently clasps his hand over yours. You jerk. Electricity courses through you and your eyes go wide, tingles rushing all over your body. Lightning strikes. You see wonder on his face, a mimic of your own surprised expression.

“Come on,” You stutter, tugging him, “you’ll catch a cold.” He follows after you. The light blinks on. You don’t know what is happening. Couldn’t have been the thunder, the feeling is not as intense. It felt more like a build up of energy; like you accidentally touched a circuit and it zapped you.

Impossible, you hear something alike his voice but not quite — it’s quiet, distant, muddy.

“Hm?”

“What?”

Once inside, the door sweeps shut behind you, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” He sounds a bit ticked now, and you decide to drop it.

“Oh,” You mutter, “must’ve imagined it, then.”

His hand is cold in yours and you squeeze it just a bit, hoping he won’t notice and hoping that you will warm it. When you reach the Medical Wing, you tilt your head and say, “Wait here. I’ll get you dry clothes from the storage.”

But as you turn to leave he doesn’t let go, though doesn’t say anything either. He’s choked up — either he doesn’t know how to say it or doesn’t want to say it at all. He doesn’t want to be alone. Those whispers come again, ringing in your ears so quietly you aren’t sure they’re even there. You give him a soft smile, catching his gaze, “Okay, we can go together. You’ll probably stay here for at least another week, so, it’s best you know where the storage is anyway.” There’s no rush in your words, no annoyance, just simple acceptance. It eases him, relieves him of saying and admitting things he’s not willing to bring to light.

The walk is quiet and you still hold hands. His is much bigger than yours, rough, though not unpleasant. They are hands of a man that uses them often — for better, or for worse — and a twinge in your heart, a sudden thud of uncertainty, informs you that your previous speculations might have not been correct at all. His hand doesn’t feel like that of a prince (not that you would know what that would feel like), no, it feels like a hand of a soldier. But that inching of something amiss is swept away by warmth, silent happiness, a certain deliriousness that starts blooming within you and spreading all around. You feel him, somehow; feel a connection. You can’t put it into words exactly, you doubt you could ever explain it to anyone. It’s fragile. And beautiful. And maddening that such a devout emotion is sprung by something as innocent as holding hands

You wonder if he feels it. You somehow know he does.

The storage room is not big. Your hand slips from his as he chooses to stand by the doorway and you rummage to get his things. You feel braver. Perhaps it’s the tiredness that leaves you so open and bold, but searching you can’t help but ask, “So tell me…” You start, handing him some towels, “What were you actually doing? Besides being melodramatic.” You add, your lips quirking upwards.

He regards you with lively eyes and you see a grin lift his cheeks. He’s smiling, actually smiling, and you know this action is precious and rare and you can’t help but beam at him in return, “You think I was being melodramatic?” He questions.

You laugh a little, a breathless bell-like “Yes” falling from your lips as you fetch him dry clothes from the upper shelf, “All you needed was a cape to swing around.”

His expression abruptly falls and the temperature drops with it.

“Right, no cape.” You mumble, a tad disappointed, handing him his clothes.

As you make your way back, you can’t help but saying, “I just thought it would suit you, is all.”

“What else do you think would suit me?”

You raise a brow, trying to keep up with his drastic shift in moods: again, hes smiling, then he’s pensive, now he seems lighthearted, genuinely curious. “You like to ask a lot of questions.” You conclude.

He shrugs, “I’m just trying to figure out what you think of me.”

“And why are you curious?”

“Now you are the one asking a lot of questions.” He points out. You snort.

“You started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

This again, followed by quiet chuckles. You don’t turn to the Medical Wing now, instead stopping by the elevator and pressing the red button. The doors slide open. You glance at him.

“So…” You mumble, “This is not how I imagined my night going, but…” You aren’t quite sure how to finish, how to vocalize the strange swirl of emotions in your chest, “Well, goodnight.”

You step into the elevator, going to push the button—“Ben.” He says suddenly, making you flinch and turn to him. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at the floor, “My name. It’s Ben.”

Again, that same energy, that same shock you felt when you first touched his hand ignites your body with something closely akin to happiness. Trust. Bond. He trusts you. The connection you felt was not an exaggeration. He would not have given you his name otherwise.

“Goodnight, Ben.” You say softly, fighting a smile that’s trying to rise on your face, “Sweet dreams.”

“…Goodnight, Seven.”

As the elevator doors shut, you think you hear him say “Thank you”, but that might have just been your imagination.

hope you liked it! xxx

238 notes · View notes

biaswreckingfics · 3 years

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I GOT SO MUCH TO SAYYY!! gosh pls dont find me weird okay, and these are just my personal opinions and im not hating any groups!! but my unpopular opinion is: i think kpop has become very toxic after bts and bp got famous in America. And tbh if you ask me, i wouldnt want any other kpop groups to be famous in America... i only stan exo but i think i speak for all groups when i say they are safe as they are now... of course if exo ever get even more famous i will be happy and proud for their success. But look how fame and America has changed bts and bp... not tryna hate but look theyve changed, idk if anyone else noticed but after fame hits bts, i realised how theyve start to become very...white?? like they are so westernised and like example, they start focusing on America only, they even curse (not a lot but i’d still point out) casually like for example, jungkook singing a curse word in his cover song for jason derulo savage love i think (speaking of cursing, after nct127 got famous in usa mark started getting influenced by them too and he casually cursed like “oh fuck” and everyones like 😃😆) even i curse and im not saying cursing is BADD but yeah i am, and how they sing a whole song in english, not to even mention how toxic america is but in grammys they have sold tons of albums yet they didnt win anything but when they release an english song, they won.

Some half of them americans are very toxic, racist, and just theyre basically acid, like bruh, its evident that once bts got famous there are soooo much hate thrown towards bts too cuz theyre asians, or how some would say theyre gay or look like girls...if my favs (exo) ever get these kinds of treatments (not that they dint but veryy little cuz thank god they ain exposed to the western culture) i will B R E A K, i could never handle that so i would never want that to happen to them. Also noticed how, after bts got famous, most armys are equally as toxic, whether they are just stanning bts just cuz theyre famous there, or like how their fans dont even know anything abt bts and coming after so many groups and their fans. Most of them are fake and i think its cuz of the fame for bts lmao. One thing i’d like to say too tho, is how they are so overrated and their songs are played all the damn time, people would randomly talk abt them, like everywhere you go THEY ARE JUST THERE, like in my opinion if i am an army, i would just feel like they are so common and theres nothing special about them anymore and theres no excitement, like what even is the point anymore. idk if anyone gets me but thats just how i feel about my favs being “wOrLdWiDe fAmOuS”, i will love them and their music but its just something i think about tbh🤷🏻‍♀️ like let me listen to them on my own and vibe and love them, dont play it 24/7 just cuz they are famous and ure tryna get people’s attention, like imagine ure in the subway and u hear ur favs song cuz its EVERYWHERE and ure there like 😐😐 not that u dont love their music but its cuz horrible people dont deserves to listen to their songs, and like people arent going to appreciate them anyway so yeah i feel uncomfortable listening to my favs as others dont even bother, like imagine if that subway is filled with people who are in ur fandom, yall would just hv the best time in the world and VIBE, if not what even is the point. Idk if im explaining it properly, but its badically like, u feeling UNCOMFORTABLE or should i even say SELFISH cuz u do not want to be sharing ur favs with people who dont even deserve to KNOW about them. Basically like seeing how someone you HATE or bullied you back then talking and being all friendly fake with ur BESTEST FRIEND or even boyfriend/girlfriend, cuz u just want to protect them from EVIL (im so dramatic)

And well lastly, no Bts did not paved the way, or “bts is the best and only group” like no, so many amazing artists were breaking records way before bts was even a thing (no hate to bts) but they really need to get slap for having that mindset, they really make a bad image for bts...tbh kpop before was so peaceful (a little toxic but still, compared to now...BYE) and everything was just about idols and fans love, listening and supporting and loving their music and just so comforting... urgh anyway thats all i wanna say and here are some texts i saved relating to kpop groups going famous worldwide uwu

these are also examples, and honestly speaking here, i dont want to be specific as in “exo” cuz i think this happens for ALL the groups out there and the love and relationship between the idols and their fans (family) are just beautiful, but for bts and armys... tbh i feel bad because i just dont see or feel any love they hv for each other (sure we see bts saying i love you armys or armys supporting bts but with all the toxicity in their way, theres just no spark or chemistry or bond no more it’s basically like one direction and their fans and thats all they are, celebrity-fan, but for kpop its family), i can see other groups and their fans interacting or how idols would light up talking abt their fans, but for bts, theres just soooo much mess going on in their fandom its not special anymore, they lost the deep meaning of their group love and IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT but YEAH DJSHSKSJ OH and to add somethign else, they got famous in America, look at all the collabs🤡🤡 blackpink with cardi b, bts with nicki etc... not that collabs arent fun... im just saying these american artists... they dont exactly have a good reputation (americans singing about sex (not the good kind), money, girls and drugs) 🥴🥴 dont influenced my faves and let them be exposed to the toxic culture YALL GET ME?? KPOP HAS THE LETTER K FOR A REASON😭😭😭 let them be their own shining star, not everything has to be involved or a part of aMeRiCa to be amazing.... PHEW IVE SAID IT NOW BEFORE ANYONE GETS MAD AT ME, I DONT MEAN TO SOUND RUDE TO YOU, if youre an american and youre no where near being toxic, I LOVE YOU but im just saying, the western culture is toxic and im just saying what ive been observing and noticing🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️ ps: i still love exo till the max and everything about them is perfect and theyre just amazing people (everything i said that bts and armys dont really have anymore, i think thankfully, EXO (sorry im biased) most fandoms still have so much of the L O V E there and i find that extraordinary) and he fandom is so comforting and amazing and idk dkdjjdjss thats why i dont want them getting famous worldwide...sorry exols ANYWAY THATS ALL FOR MY RANT ITS 4AM AND I AM THINKING OF DELETING THIS💀💀💀 anywya sorry for taking up so much space but i just wanna say I FREKAING LOVE NO EXIT, NO LIMITS, basically all ur exo fics cuz why not🥺🥺 i think ur writing skills are amazing as well as the plots and all especially forsaken, and THANK YOU for two bbhxoc fics😭😭😭 i cant!!! also if u reached here idk i-🥲 i hope u didnt get mad or offended 👀

Reply under the cut!!

Kpop has become extremely toxic with the growth of international fans and the rise of 3rd/4th gen. I wasn't around to experience the previous generations, but I know damn well they weren't a mess like these newer ones are.

Gaining fame in America does seem to change idols, and idk why. The group members change and the music changes also. While I do enjoy hearing idols swear (guilty pleasure) and I am an American so I get to enjoy their English songs, I can see how it makes all the other cultures/countries feel some type of way.

I will say this, though, the Grammys are shit and I dont get why people care so much about them. They've proven time and time again the awards don't go to the best artists. However, this doesn't mean that I think BTS deserved a Grammy imo.

Americans are a very toxic and hate filled bunch (again, I am one, so I get to see this shit every day). I 100% know that some of the hate directed towards Asians is because of racism (as seen by the insane uptick in crime against Asian Americans right now) and because some see kpop male idols as too feminine.

BTS is literally everywhere, which is one of the reasons I stopped listening to them tbh. They'd be in commercials, on talk shows, late night shows, in magazines, on the radio, just everywhere. It took the joy out of watching anything from them just because they were always in my face, so I can see what you mean.

I feel like the relationship between BTS and army has changed (from an outsiders perspective). Its no longer about loving and supporting your group and being happy for them. Now, its "so-so wants this? We MUST do everything in our power and spam every possible thing ever so they get what they want". Its almost frightening. They also no longer care about the quality of the music being put out. Doesn't matter what it is, they stream the ever loving shit out of it and make it break records when, honestly, it doesn't deserve to (again imo).

Lastly, I didnt get mad or offended haha. I understand a lot of these viewpoints, and thank you so much for liking my work!! I do wonder what would happen if I made a true BBH centric fic and not just spin offs or continuations of previous works where oc ends up with BBH 🤔🤔 I think that fic would have too much power haha.

#unpopular kpop opinions #sehunsthetics

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