#do not lump me in with those fans i have them blocked for a reason | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cryptiql · 3 years

Text

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

150 notes · View notes

twinklebitch · 3 years

Text

some things i feel like twitter dream stans and antis need to hear:

1. if you are mad about mcc but not about dream or vice versa, you should probably examine your biases here. both involved cheating, intentional or not. and at the end of the day, they are just games played for fun and should not be taken so seriously. (basically what i am saying is that there’s no point in getting super worked up about either situation).

also, sapnap’s salty stream post-event is not a go ahead to send hate on his behalf. i thought it was pretty clear that while frustrated, they were just joking around (i mean, did y’all hear sapnap scream every time hbomb glitched through a wall? i was laughing my ass off), so if it’s not let me be clear now: they were fucking around. any grievances they have will likely be taken directly to those is charge of mcc and they don’t need their fans doing it for them.

2. dream and geosquare have said they are fine now. dream has made it clear that he does not want any hate sent on his behalf, and while i do not follow geo, i imagine he shares a similar sentiment. if you are still arguing under their tweets, you do not actually care about whoever you are hating/defending, you are just arguing to argue. dream stans and dream antis are both guilty of this.

if you don’t want to forgive dream, that is fine. i’m very disappointed myself, and i hope he does more to make up for this situation than an apology. he really hurt the speed running community and made the fans that staunchly defended him look like fools.

if you do not want to forgive geo that’s fine. i think some of the things he did were pretty unprofessional, and spreading the n word video was very bad faith. but they have forgiven each other, so any further continuation of the drama is not actually helping either of them. at this point, learn how to use the block button.

3. this is for dream stans specifically. some of you may have forgiven him, but that does not mean everyone has. regardless of the seriousness of the situation (i still maintain that this is all about minecraft, and i don’t take video games that seriously. but that’s just me), there was a LOT of drama and dream’s fan base is so large that the toxic portion of the fandom is a lot larger than with other fandoms. pair that with being a fandom who’s main fan base is on twitter, and you have a lot of toxic stans going after people directly (as opposed to a place like tumblr, where ccs are not exposed to the craziness), even after dream has repeatedly said not to do that on his behalf. i know y’all don’t like to be lumped in with the toxic stans, so you should perhaps start policing them more. that’s another thing that tumblr had to learn - policing it’s fandoms. we are in charge of each other, and we do not expect celebrities or content creators to have to tell us how to act. we’re supposed to be mature enough to do that on our own (also ik a lot of dream stans on twitter are young. all the more reason for us older folks to be a good example).

i don’t really have anything else to say. i guess tldr, if you are so mad at smajor/mcc, dream, and/or geosquare that you are doing a deep dive into the drama on twitter, then you might want to step away from your computer. they are all human, and we can be disappointed in them and want them to make up for their mistakes WITHOUT going nuts on the internet.

#dreamwastaken #dream critical #sapnap #geosquare #geosquare critical #mcc #mcc critical #mcyt #mcyt discourse #discourse #also just my onion here but people who are pissed at dream for waiting so long to say something are being just a lil but transparent with #their dislike of #him #since the mod team also waited this long to take down the rest of his speed runs (and it once again coincided with mcc)#but that’s just a personal grievance so i’ve put it in the tags haha

64 notes · View notes

bellasweetwriting · 4 years

Text

football and foreing films

spencer reid x reader

(not my gif)

masterlist

plot: football is your thing, and since the start of the season you’ve had invited the team to watch the games every Sunday. After being absence a few times due to the reason of not liking sports, Spencer makes his first appearence at your place one night

warnings: football talk, language, kissing, incredibly cute spencer, too much fluff

note: I thought of writing this since it’s the beginning of the football season and I love football so enjoy !!

word count: 4k

Y/N loves football in a way that Spencer couldn't describe as usual for an FBI agent. Screw that, for a person.

As a Kansas City native, your team was obviously the Kansas City Chiefs. And since every member of the BAU had their thing that described him best, you made clear that yours was football.

You would invite the BAU to your small and cosy Virginia apartment to watch the games. Nobody besides JJ liked football as much as you did, and even JJ considered you a die-hard fan because you were. You were a die-hard football fan.

"Hey, Morgan!" You exclaimed opening the door. "Is that beer? 'Gimme!" You yelled, grabbing the cases. If Morgan wasn't fast enough, you would have close the door in his face. "The beer came with Morgan!" You exclaimed, making Hotch and Emily stand up from the couch and grab some. "You could have bought colder ones, though."

"You really get grumpy in football season, Y/N," he mumbled, grabbing one of the cans and jumping into the couch next to Rossi. The elder of the group was sipping from his glass of wine. He was staring at the TV as the fans were filling the stadium. "You don't want a beer, Rossi?"

"No, I don't want beer, Morgan," he replied, making the man laugh. "I don't get why you get all excited by these games, Y/N," he told you as you sat down on the floor, opening the beer and drinking. You were wearing your Chiefs jersey and looking anxiously at the TV.

"Hey, I have to be in your six-hour-long cooking lesson every Friday without having any cooking talent. You can at least hang out with me for three hours on Sunday." Football got you on defensive mode, and you always had to be like that to feel respected in the team.

You've been in the BAU for at least eight months now, and you've become closer to practically everyone. Now, they even give you their Sundays. Hotch sometimes comes with Jack, and he stays playing in your apartment office while you watch the game. The team was your family now... well, everyone except one.

You had nothing in common with the young doctor who's desk was in front of yours. You've had invited him to watch every football game since the beginning of the season with you, but he has never said yes. He is, or busy, or he simply likes to stay home and talk to his online friends about philosophy. You had no idea what Reid fancied to do in his free time, and honestly, you tossed your curiosity aside a long time ago.

The doorbell rang, making you get up from the floor quickly since you didn't want to miss the beginning of the game.

You walk backwards as your sight was focused on the screen. You looked over to your friends and did a headcount to see who was at the door. Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, Hotch and JJ were there, so it could only mean that...

"Beautiful lady," you said as you opened the door to welcome Penelope Garcia as she held a box of cookies. "Are those Chiefs themed cookies?" You questioned as you looked at the cookies with red and yellow decoration. "That is so sweet."

"Anything for an important game. And guess who I found wandering through the hallway looking for your apartment."

That's when Spencer Reid appeared in your door frame. His hair was all messy, letting a single curl bounce against his forehead. He was wearing a shirt and a cardigan, definitely not appropriate football attire. You let a little smile as you saw him, being surprised to even see him there.

Penelope let himself in being welcomed by the rest of the team. While she sat down, you were still staring at the young doctor, who seemed even more surprise to be there than you were.

"Hey," you said softly.

"Hey," he replied in the same tone, giving you a tiny smile.

"You brought wine," you pointed out. Spencer quickly remembered he had a bottle in his hand and gave it to you nervously. "Thanks."

"JJ told me that your team is red, so I tried to match a little," he let you know, showing you his red cardigan. You chuckled. "Can I come in?"

"Huh? Oh sure! Come in." He smiled before entering, being received with a smile from the rest of the team.

"Look who's here!" Exclaimed Emily.

"Pretty boy!" Yelled Morgan. "You'll have to sit on the floor, though."

"It's okay," the doctor murmured as he sat down, turning around to look at you walking towards them.

Suddenly, you felt uncomfortable in your outfit. You felt the need of changing. It wasn't your best look.

You had no idea why you thought of changing into your pretty tight black dress that minute but decided to ignore it and sit down next to Spencer on the floor, on your usual spot.

Not that your usual spot was next to Reid, you always sat in the floor. It was not on purpose.

This is your house, for God's sake, chill out.

"Hey, Rossi, the doctor brought you wine," you said, giving the bottle to Rossi, who smiled.

Spencer whispered to you.

"You don't drink wine? I didn't know."

"Oh no, I do, I love wine. But on football night, we drink beer." You grabbed one bottle and gave it to Spencer with a smile. He just held on to it, not making any movement towards opening it. "Oh my God, the game is starting."

Suddenly, all your mind was on the game. You didn't care that Spencer was too close to you, or that you were the only two one in the floor.

You celebrated every yard your team advanced. Every pass that Patrick Mahomes did you were there to scream and cheer for it, and Spencer didn't get it, so you explained it to him.

"The goal is to get to the other side," you whispered to his ear. "Each team has four tries to move forward ten yards, and the defence of the other team needs to prevent the rival offence team of running the 10 yards in the four attempts because then it is their turn to attack." Spencer nodded. Even though you were terrible at explaining the game due to the alcohol and adrenaline running through your system, he now understood the game more clearly. "When the ball gets to the endzone on the other side of the field, it's called a touchdown, that equivalents to six points. After the touchdown, you can either go for a field goal, that is to kick the ball between the goalposts, or you can go for a two-point conversion, which is riskier."

"Got it," he whispered to you. "And why do you like the game so much?"

"It's so organized." He looked at you strangely. "You can't see it?" He shook his head. "There are at least sixty different offensive formations and plays, each one of them with different outcomes. The players have to move according to the positions of their teammates. You can't see it, but each one of the men that are on the line is crucial to get the ball to the other side. If you remove one of them, all the tactic, all the play, falls apart. There is no one play similar to the other, and they have to be able to change quickly if something doesn't go as planned or if the rival team reads your game. There is no game equal to another. There are thousands of different possibilities."

"Like chess," he said, and you nodded.

"Yeah, something like chess." You pointed out the player number 15 the quarterback. "That is the most valuable player on the board. He is the one in charge to change the play in seconds when something changes. If his left receptor is not in his position or was taken down by the rival, he needs, by any source, to pass the ball. He can't be taken down with the ball in hand because it adds yards."

Spencer was impressed. This was the most long-running conversation you both have ever had since you'd met.

He stared at you as you watched the game. How your expressions would change beneath seconds. The sport was a lot faster than he had expected, but time didn't go quick as he looked at you. It was like slow-motion. He had time to pay attention to the details.

He didn't realize he had been staring for at least five minutes until you stood up screaming.

"That was a clear fault!" You yelled, receiving complainings from your friends as you were blocking the screen. "For God's sake, where the hell is the referee? That was a fault! Get him out of the field!"

"He was lumping anyways," said Emily, receiving an angry look from the rest, including Spencer. "Sorry."

You sat down again, watching the rest of the third quarter in silence, still upset about that obvious fault of the rival team against the left receptor.

Spencer offered you the beer that he hadn't drink since the beginning, surprising you. You gave him a tiny smile, grabbing the bottle and opening it by hitting the cap against the table.

"You get in a whole new personality while watching football," he commented, making you laugh.

The ads gave an end to the third quarter, and you stood up quickly, walking towards the kitchen at fast speed. Spencer watched you as you ran away, being followed by JJ and Garcia.

"So," whispered JJ to you while Garcia took off her red and yellow headband and left it on the counter, "what's up with you and Spence?"

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't think we didn't notice how you've been whispering to his ear sensually all night?" Questioned Garcia, making you open your eyes widely.

"Woah, Woah, sensually?" You asked, finishing to drink your beer. "No, no, I was explaining the game to him."

"Right, right," said JJ slowly, clearly not believing you. "Sure, mhm."

"Guys, nothing is going on between the doctor and me. I'm actually surprised he even showed up."

"What do you mean?" Interrogated Garcia as you place the empty bottle next to the other ones.

"The doctor and I are friends, like us right now. Don't try to read between the lines that don't even exist."

"How come you never call him by his name? Or last name?"

You stared at JJ, confused, as you chew one of Garcia's cookies.

"What?"

"Yeah, that's right," agreed Garcia. "You only call Reid "the doctor" like he was Frankenstein or something. I had never noticed before."

You hadn't either.

"I don't know," you replied. "Some of my middle school Doctor Who obsessed personality is still there, who cares? It means nothing."

"I don't know," said JJ innocently, "sounds to me like a nickname."

"It is not a nickname, it's called a PhD, and he has three of them. Now, I'm gonna continue to watch my game. Please, don't ruin that for me too."

You avoided any of their theories for the rest of the night. You sat down next to Spencer again, but this time, you laid a farther away from him. Not so much as to be noticeable for the rest, but both of you could clearly feel it.

The Chiefs won that night, but you weren't as happy as usual. The voices of JJ and Garcia were still rumbling in your head. Was it possible that you were sensually whispering to his ear?

What on Earth did you just think?

"Bye guys, see you tomorrow," you said to your friends as they started leaving your apartment. "I called you an Uber, Prentiss, please don't drive!" You exclaimed to your friend with a smile. "Bye!"

"A good wine is a kiss to the palate," you heard Rossi explain to Reid. The older of the team was clearly drunk, trying to teach the doctor about wine at 1 am while Spencer was clearly not interested in the talk. "And you, my friend, are a good kisser."

You couldn't help but laugh when you saw the young guy's reaction to that phrase coming from drunk Rossi. The man kissed both of your cheeks, rambled something in Italian and left your apartment, holding the empty bottle of wine that Reid brought.

You two were the only ones left, and it was like it was made on purpose. You questioned if JJ and Garcia said something to your friends, but you were too drunk and tired to be speculating, so you just let it slide.

"It was fun," said Reid, cutting the silence that was left between both of you. "Kinda makes me regret not coming the last three weeks."

"Well, football season is long; you always have time to repair for your absence," you comforted him, walking towards the living room and collecting the empty bottles Morgan and Emily left. "I told you it was fun, doctor."

"Yeah, it was," he agreed, helping you leave the empty plates in the sink.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll do it tomorrow," you said, but he continued. You gave up and let him. "Although you'll have to buy an actual red t-shirt for next time. Weren't you uncomfortable all night with that shirt?"

"Nah, I'm used to it," he replied, smiling a little. "Hey, Y/N." You look at him. "There is this... there's this... there is this representation of The Rules of the Game, next Friday."

"I've never seen it."

"It is a French satirical comedy-drama film" he started to rant, making you smile unconsciously. "It is directed by Jean Renoir. Though this tale of the idle rich in France is technically a country-estate farce, it's far more than a mere satire of upper-crust affectations. Under the guise of mocking the bourgeoisie as they negotiate romantic minefields, he had also delivered a cunning commentary on old-world Europe; a heart cry at the hypocrisy of class pretensions; and finally, a rich, rewarding work of art that's equal parts irony and sympathy. "

"Sounds great," you pointed out, and he nodded, like if that was the whole point of his presentation.

"Exactly. This movie rewrote the rules of cinema entirely." He sounded so excited about it like he was quoting it accurately from the textbook. Well, everything he said seemed like quoted from an article. "It's also in French and made in 1939, so you could guess I'm going alone."

And now, you understood why he was telling you all of these. He wanted you to go with him. He wanted for both of you to go and watch the film with him.

"Well, I can go with you if you want." He immediately smiled after you said those words, "but I don't know any French, so it better have subtitles." He nodded, excited. That reaction made you wonder how many times has he had to go alone to this kind of things.

"If you like it, we can also go to watch M. It's the first serial killer movie where the killer is actually portrayed as a victim. It also makes political references to World War II since it was made at the beginning of the war."

"Okay, doctor, one movie at a time." He noticed he got too excited. "After work on Friday, we will go to see your movie."

"Thanks, Y/N. See you tomorrow at the office."

"See you tomorrow, doc." He stepped outside, and you slowly closed the door, looking at him wave you goodbye.

This wasn't a date. The doctor just watched three hours of football, and you were repaying him with a favour. Not a date.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you ready for your nerdy date tonight, pretty lady?" Asked Morgan, making you throw a pen at him. "Don't get violent, princess, save it for the passionate make out."

"Shut up."

Morgan quickly became your best friend in the team, and you know he would take a bullet for you presented the case.

Sometimes you wished the bullet would come quicker.

Like now, when he was making kissing noises in your ear as you tried to finish your paperwork.

"Don't you have work to do!?" You angrily exclaimed while he found it hilarious. "It's impossible that you finished your paperwork already."

"What are you going to wear? A sexy Doctor Who costume? Or a cardigan and no shirt?"

"Have anyone tell you not to mess with a woman that carries a gun?" He laughed. "And it's not a date. He sat down and watched three hours of football for me, I'm repaying the favor by watching one of his films. Have a problem with that?"

"Not at all, princess, but knowing that those movies don't necessarily have a killing audience, you and pretty boy will be all alone in the theatre tonight."

You rolled your eyes, looking for something else on your desk to throw at him, but not finding something sharp enough.

"Hotch confiscated your scissors when you tried to stab me with them two weeks ago," he reminded you as he laughed, making you angrier.

"At least you know I'm capable of doing it," you said to him.

Reid appeared ready at your desk, receiving a tiny smile from your part.

"You ready?" You nodded, grabbing your purse, your badge and gun. You walked away not before giving Morgan a threatening look, leaving to the elevator with the doctor. "Oh, I found out the movie does not have subtitles, but I can translate you most of it. I've been practising my French."

You smiled at him. This was going to be a long night.

You were scared that the only thing that was in your mind was Morgan's lousy comment about the empty theatre.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, so I bought popcorn, sodas and some candy," you said, giving him his stuff, which he grabbed with lack of ability. "Also, this guy sells pins with the poster of the movie on them. I got one for you," you grabbed his shirt and pinned the button to it, making him blush, "and one for me." You pinned the button to your blouse, smiling. "Look, we look like well-prepared film enthusiasts. We rock."

He laughed, walking you towards the entrance of the theatre. You hadn't realized how nervous you were. This wasn't a date, but what if it was? It looked like a date, you were wearing something you would wear on a date. You even grabbed him by the shirt and pinned a button on his shirt.

It didn't sound as sexy as you were making it sound, but it was definitely something.

You both sat down on your seats, looking at the white screen waiting to be projected on. Your palms were a little bit sweaty, and you were envying your company for being so calm.

"So, doctor," you called him, and he raised his eyebrows. " Have you ever brought a girl to watch a foreign movie before?"

Well, what kind of idiotic comment was that? "Have you ever brought a girl...?" What answer were you searching for?

"Uhm, no. You are the first," he said nervously.

That was a valid answer.

Not a date.

"Hey, so, am I expecting you at my place on Sunday?" You watched him as he almost choked on his drink.

"What?"

"Football night. Sunday's game is crucial. Morgan even rambled about the idea of bets, but I don't take chances, you know?" He nodded. "Do you like bets?"

"Not when I can't be sure that I'm going to win." You laughed.

"Right. You always go save, Vegas." He chuckled, but before he said something, the movie started.

You saw him as he accommodated closer to you, and before you could move, you remembered that the movie didn't have subtitles.

He had to whisper the movie to you.

Like you did with the football game.

Garcia's voice as she mentioned the "sensual whisper" came to your mind. Thanks, Garcia, real thanks.

The man on the film started talking, and you could feel Spencer's soft voice near to your ear as he whispered the words in English.

At some point, you didn't even listen to what he was saying, you just worried about the feeling of his soft breathing crashing with your ear and neck. How he sounded so calm, translating each word with delicacy, making regular English sound as poesy in your ears.

After a few minutes of being guided by his voice, you turned around to look at him. Your noses were almost touching each other, and your breaths were crashing onto the other's skin. You liked the feeling.

Ugh, you hated when Morgan was right.

"Spencer..." you murmured his name for the first time. You've never called him like that before, not even in the field. He didn't know how his name sounded in your lips, and now that he knew, it was his favourite sound in the world.

And without saying something else, Spencer Reid leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you and impacting his lips into yours.

If all the striking and fantabulous feelings you've ever experienced in your life would morph together in one action, would be kissing Spencer Reid. Kissing him felt like finishing a book that you read all night or drinking a cup of tea on a cold day. His lips tasted like how eating feels after spending hours of hunger or like strawberries with chocolate under the sun with friends. He smelled like flowers on spring and the fragrance of an antique store in Greece.

You have never been to Greece, but he smelled like that, you just knew.

What you didn't know is for how long you didn't let him go. One second the lights were dark and the sound of a French man's accent is playing loudly, and next, the lights turned on, and the music of the credits filled the theatre, making both of you break apart.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Finally, beer, I've been waiting for you," you said to the cases that were on your best friend's hands. "Damn, you brought Morgan again. You could've left him. He's a big boy, he can take it."

"Would you stop talking to the beer? It's weird," claimed Morgan, giving you a loud kiss on your cheek before entering. "Hey, you never told me how the date went."

"See? This is why I tell the beer not to bring you; you are so annoying." You grabbed one of the bottles and gave it to him, pushing him towards the living room.

The doorbell rang again, making you turn around. You quickly opened the door, looking at JJ, Garcia and the doctor standing outside your apartment. You immediately smiled at the sight of Spencer behind the girls.

"Welcome to the best night of the week, ladies and gentlemen. Cookies and food on the kitchen, the rest of the annoying people are in the living room looking at the TV like zombies," you told with a smile, letting them in.

JJ and Garcia quickly walked towards the kitchen, while Spencer stayed next to you in front of the door.

"Hey," he mumbled to you, making you smile even more.

"Hey," you repeated as he kissed your cheek.

You decided to give it a chance, but for any motive, you were going to tell the team. You determined that it was best to see if it works before hoping the team, especially Garcia and JJ.

"I brought wine again," he said, showing you the bottle, and you smiled, "and I was thinking if we could drink it after the game, you know, both of us."

"That sounds so nice, Doc, but next time tell me because I'm in my third beer." He laughed. "You can drink it with Rossi if you like."

"I really need to get used to football mode."

"Yeah, you should."

You grabbed the bottle of wine after winking at him, walking towards the living room where the rest of the team was.

"The doctor brought wine again, Rossi." The man smiled, grabbing the bottle.

"I hope you listened to my suggestions from last week, Reid," he said, and Spencer nodded.

"You bet I did."

Both of you sat on the floor like last time, and you proceeded to explain the game to him to his ear, even though he already understood it.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #y/n #reader

302 notes · View notes

berlinbabylon · 3 years

Note

Hi! A few weeks ago, in an answer, you made reference to Volker Bruch's role in Unsere Mütter, Unsere Väter. I've never seen it and had been wanting to (although I'm arguably less motivated now that Volker Bruch has been so ... ugh lately), but would you mind expanding upon what you meant? This whole situation is so disappointing and frustrating (but I say this as someone who only discovered BB/VB in December of last year)!

Oh boy, where to begin! The issues with Unsere Mütter, unsere Väter are so layered. I guess I'll break it down into: (1) Issues with the miniseries itself, and (2) issues with the reception of it.

1) So as to the first point, it's been a long time since I saw and I don't want to be too negative about it. It's well-made and some parts of it are better than others. I remember that I didn't think the writing was great (that's true for many German productions where the scripts tend to be the weak link), like it relied too much on coincidental meetings of characters in unlikely scenarios and so on. But okay, whatever. The actual issue with the miniseries arises from the way in which it was titled and marketed ("our mothers, our fathers" – of course Generation War sounds a bit more oblique in English and obfuscates that the people behind the miniseries wanted to do something that was supposedly representative of what "our" immediate ancestors went through during the war). From a historian's POV, the group of young people that they chose to focus on was really not in any way, shape or form representative of most young German people at the time and you can't blame the Polish for being pissed about the representation they got (which painted the Polish partisans as antisemitic and the issue with that wasn't that antisemitism didn't exist among Polish partisans but rather that the way the miniseries emphasizes their antisemitism while being way too revisionist about the German protagonists in that regard is just not a good look). A history professor put everything into words that I was thinking back then, it's in German but you can put it through DeepL and I highly recommend the read, regardless of how you feel about the miniseries: https://taz.de/Unsere-Muetter-unsere-Vaeter/!5070893/ ("Nazis are always the others" – yes there are some evil German Nazis of course, the cliché ones, the commanding officers, the Gestapo guy and so on but we are not invited to identify with them, we are not invited to consider them part of our ancestry and we are also not invited to consider that most Germans at the time were not victims of circumstance but active participants in the system, unless we're talking about resistance groups which were obviously the exception and not what the miniseries posits as the core 'generation' – one who, we might add, would've been exactly the one to have gone through the whole youth indoctrination unlike older people at the time). So yeah there's a lot to unpack there in terms of how German remembrance culture works and I'll leave it at that, it's a huge topic that would need its own essay. The miniseries is 'fine' TV but it has a certain role in cultural memory production that is, at the very least, questionable and should be considered with some critical distance from its qualities as a drama.

2) There's another issue though and that's more what I was referring to. Basically Volker Bruch playing a Wehrmacht soldier in that miniseries gained him quite a following of wehraboos and in some cases straight up Neonazis. For the longest time, whenever you were searching for posts about him here on Tumblr, they came from accounts that... man, how do I say this. Okay first of all wehraboos are Wehrmacht stans and I came across a big number of them in this context (and in the context of Volker Bruch fandom specifically) where their tumblrs were all about the aesthetic~ of German Wehrmacht soldiers and I just... to say that I found these blogs disturbing is putting it mildly. Often these were run by young women from countries like the Netherlands, Italy or wherever else in the world and my only explanation for this phenomenon is that they grew up with a very stereotypical view of Germans during WWII = evil, so when they discovered that some of them were young (sometimes handsome) men who were also just regular guys, they took this to mean that everyone had been terribly mistaken to lump in 'regular' soldiers with the SS and so they ran in the other direction. I mean, obviously there are distinctions to be made. But the Wehrmacht was also heavily involved in war crimes, so. All that teenage fawning over black and white pictures of real people who may have been involved in real atrocities... well. But that was still comparatively mild. When I first made Babylon Berlin gifs (before it was shown in the US on Netflix, before I made this sideblog, before there was a sizeable interest in these gifs aside from Volker Bruch stans), the accounts that reblogged them... I mean, there were actual Neonazi accounts among those. One I will never forget. Back then I still looked at reblogs to see if people had some commentary in the tags and so I opened this one blog and it was dedicated to Reinhard Heydrich, the "Butcher of Prague". On the front page, there were reblogs of Hitler gifs. Hitler greeting some kids, people doing the Nazi salute. The rest I've blocked from my memory. I had accidentally stumbled across a corner of Tumblr that was entirely sinister. I felt so sick. I ended up blocking and reporting it but this hellsite never gave me a reply so who even knows if anything happened.

So long story short: Ever since then I've resented the fact that Volker Bruch being in Unsere Mütter, unsere Väter gained him Neonazi followers (also tells you something about the miniseries, doesn't it) and I also resented that me just wanting to make Babylon Berlin gifs meant I had to see this stuff. So I stopped making any BB gifs (or at least any containing him) for a while and it's also the reason I never made many gifs of Gereon unless requested. I don't want to say that I feel vindicated after finding out that Volker Bruch is a complete idiot because I never paid much attention to him personally but I was also never his biggest fan, I find his acting range limited, he has a certain vibe and look that goes well with certain period dramas (actually only 20th century ones because he looked rough in the Goethe movie... I actually much prefer Alexander Fehling as an actor but that's neither here nor there). Anyway, there you go.

#ask #reply #anonymous #volker bruch's wife miriam stein is also in the miniseries #(and in the goethe movie)#honestly they both always gave me a vibe #now that i think about it #but i just thought they were hipsters #(also welcome to the babylon berlin fandom!)#(it's actually been a much better place since it's not just volker bruch fans anymore lol)#(also: normal volker bruch fans exist and i mean no offense to them at all)#(this is just about a certain kind of following he acquired through unsere mütter unsere väter)

33 notes · View notes

moonlitceleste · 3 years

Text

I’m somewhat over the Maribat hate, but I just had to share this since I think I cracked the code, so to speak.

The Maribat fandom is characterized as only having salt, which applies to its very early stages but most definitely not now. But why?

Anti-salters within the Miraculous Ladybug fandom hate salt so much that they decide to lump Maribat into a box slapped with a “high sodium” label so they have someone to attack. That’s it.

Since it’s harder to differentiate between salt and anti-salt Miraculous fans, they decide to take their anger out on Maribat fans because the community is an actual separate entity.

They want someone to attack, and they’ve spent so long not being able to identify a single group for their negative emotions. Maribat comes along, and bam. Easy target. They spread misinformation and hate for no reason.

This isn’t to mention the fact that many MLB fans still buy into the “Adrien is perfect and sad and has never harassed Marinette narrative,” but I’m not going to expand on that any further because frankly, I’m tired of doing do. If you like him, it’s fine, but those aren’t grounds to ignore what he’s done.

I’ve seen MLB fans blatantly insult Maribat, then proceed to block people who call them out for being rude. Talk about immature. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to realize how toxic the Miraculous fandom is (of course, this doesn’t apply to everyone).

The Maribat community is so nice, yet people want to attack us for what? Existing?

There’s a point where playing nice ends, and I’m not gonna stand by and watch people try and turn this into a toxic fandom.

This is the last thing I’m saying (for now) about this situation. I don’t care for arguments or insults unless someone wants to have a serious, mature conversation about this. The block button is starting to look awfully tempting, and I’ll use it if I have to.

#maribat #anti maribat

131 notes · View notes

astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Melancholy (A Leviathan x GN MC Fanfic)

I guess you could say I use a lot of personal experience when I write. If I get sad, I’ll write something sad. Lock me in my room and I’ll probably write something about my lamp. I hope you can at least get something out of my occasional literary catharsis. Also, communication is important. Always ask for help if you need to, there’s never any shame in doing so.

Warning: Themes of Depression, Angst

Melancholy: A feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause.

Levi could barely manage his own mood sometimes, so never once did he think that he’d end up having to help someone else with their own. Under normal circumstances, he’d never considered getting involved. All his brothers knew that he was probably the least equipped to deal with their problems, physical or emotional. If they were concerned about completing a boss level or what anime to watch next, he had them covered, but sadness…? That was an Asmo problem or maybe a Beel. Don’t come to him.

But for the MC it was different… They seemed to gravitate to him since the day they first met, even though he tried to push them away. They liked him. They laughed at his dorky jokes and listened to his endless rambling. They would stay up late with him to play the latest game he just got or sit through his six-millionth re-watch of TSL with a smile on their face. He couldn’t quite place when it started to happen, but he felt himself getting slowly more attached to this peculiar human… He gradually started opening his world to them, and they didn’t seem to mind being a part of it. They were at ease with him and all his little eccentricities... It was a feeling of acceptance that he had always craved but was too afraid to seek. He wanted to be with them, hell, he probably even loved them.

So it hurt him in a special way to see them so sad… He couldn’t place why but some days, he’d just notice things were off about them. They wouldn’t laugh as much at his jokes or smile quite as wide when he launched into another one of his rants. He could see them trying. The corners of their mouth would raise briefly, but then drop like they were weighted by cement. Their eyes wouldn’t sparkle like they used to, they’d just stay flat, static… muted. Like something about them had decided to withdraw from the world, hiding away in a place he just couldn’t quite get to… He’d ask them what was wrong, but they never had a good answer for him. Most of the time, they wouldn’t even admit there was a problem. They’d put on that fragile smile and say everything was alright… Did they think he was blind? Sure, Levi knew he wasn’t the most well-versed in people’s emotions, but even he could point to sadness when he saw it. Especially in someone that he cared about so much…

In truth, he had been paying close attention to them for months now. With the same level of detail as he would his favorite character in a show or a voice actor who’s work he admired. He knew things about them that they may not have known about themselves… Their favorite foods and colors, how they stood and how they walked, the little habits they hung onto from the human world, and all the faces they’d make when no one else is watching... He knew it all as well as he knew any game he’s ever played, and why wouldn’t he? He was their biggest fan.

He tried using all that knowledge to cheer them up. As far as he was concerned, getting them to feel better was his new mission objective. Even his brothers took notice of his dedication to it. More deliveries started showing up at the House filled with very… not-Levi things for once. At one point, he had a rather irritated Lucifer knocking on his door to ask why there were twenty pounds worth flowers all piled in the entryway. He explained it away as him hitting the wrong option on accident, but in all honesty, it was because he ordered them flowers but just couldn’t decide which color or style would have been the best for a bouquet... So he bought them all.

They would always accept his gifts, and he could tell they liked them, but it never seemed to fix the problem... No matter what he bought them, there would still be those days where they looked just too forlorn to smile… It made his heart ache, and he wished that he could be good with people like Asmo or just put people at ease like Beel… Even Mammon was better at getting people to smile than he was… He wanted to help so badly, but every time he built up the courage to ask them about it, they’d never tell him what the problem was…

Slowly, he began to worry if it was him, like maybe he had done something wrong one day… That had to be it right…? He was a shut-in, he’s never really had to deal with people before… The fear, guilt, and frustration gradually ate at his mind for weeks while he scoured his memories for every little mistake he could have made... Did he miss an important date? Had he forgotten to call them back for something? Did he ignore them by accident one day? With every anxious thought, there was a pressure building inside him… He was growing convinced that MC was upset because of something he had done, but he didn’t want them to leave… not after he’d finally felt so understood. It was only a matter of time before his racing thoughts slipped over…

When they knocked on his door that day, he knew they weren’t in the best mood before they even walked in. Their hand hit his door softer than usual, tentative with a longer pause between strikes. He had half a mind to tell them that he was too busy to hang out that day, having to look at their woeful expression just hurt him that much... But he knew he couldn’t refuse them even if he wanted to. His lovesick heart could never turn them away…

His suspicions were proved true when they stepped in to say hello. They had that same weak smile… the dullness of their eyes almost refusing to reflect the cool, blue glow of his aquarium wall. What did they want from him…? Were they trying to rub something in? He was to busy digging through his mind for their motives to notice that they had crossed the room to stand next to his computer chair. At least not until they gently tapped his shoulder. The concerned look in their eye was enough to stop his heart, he would have leapt from his chair had they not been blocking the way.

“Levi…? Are you okay? I said hello…” There they were, clearly drowning in their own sorrow, yet they were still concerned for him of all people? The guy who couldn’t even make them smile...? His brain short-circuited for a moment, and his next words flew out without his say-so.

“I’m s-sorry!!” He watched them pause before their brow furrowed in confusion, probably because he had just shouted in their face... He suddenly wished he could shrink down and hide in Henry’s fishbowl… This is why he doesn’t deal with people...

“Sorry…? About what…?” His eyes flicked frantically around the room while he tried to form some kind of exit strategy, but there wasn’t much he could do. There really was no turning back now, was there…? He was finally going to have to say something… Demons don’t pray, but he could feel himself begging for someone, anyone, to make this go well…

“A-about well… You’ve been sad a lot lately and I uh… I know I didn’t remember to get you that limited edition Hinata figurine from the last convention we went to… Or that you had a test to study for a few weeks ago when I tried to get you to play Devil’s Haven with me… I also didn’t notice your last haircut until an hour after I saw you and I accidentally ate your pudding cup from Madame Scream’s and blamed it on Beel-”

“Levi…”

“-I know I should have gotten the red camellias instead of the pink on that last batch of flowers. I saw the balance was off-”

“Levi.”

“-but I thought it’d be okay. Oh, and I’m sorry I hit you with that body pillow last week! I was aiming for Mammon, I sw-”

“Leviathan!” They had to put their finger over his mouth to keep him from rambling on. His face flushed almost immediately, in part due to embarrassment but also because of their proximity. The MC’s face had softened considerably, but he could still see the lingering sadness over their features… Had he not said enough…?

“You… You actually think that it’s your fault that I’m like this…?” They took their finger back and looked at him expectantly. Levi swallowed a growing lump in his throat and nodded hesitantly. He didn’t trust himself not to launch into another self-conscious tirade if he tried opening his mouth again… It felt like a stab to the chest when he saw their expression dip farther into despair.

“It’s not your fault, Levi… I just…” They drew in a deep breath and let it out as a sullen sigh, avoiding his eyes. “I just get sad sometimes… It’s a passing mood swing. I can’t really control it, and it doesn’t always have a reason… You’ve actually been helping me, though.” Levi’s amber-toned eyes widened like saucers, he could barely believe his ears. Was this a dream, or had they just told him that he actually helped them with something…?

“I have…??” The dumbstruck look on his face must have been pretty amusing because they actually graced him with their smile, full and authentic with no hidden melancholy.

“Yes, you dork! You have.” The light from his aquarium finally touched their eyes, dancing in amongst the natural sparkle that always accompanied their gaze. “That’s why I always keep coming here… Your jokes, your gifts… just how excited you get when you see something you love… it... It all helps. It really does…” A pang of guilt seemed to hit them as they turned away from him again, shrinking back from his presence.

“I’m so sorry I never said anything to you… I must have been showing up at your door sadder and sadder each time… No wonder you thought you were behind it…” They averted his stunned gaze by watching the jellyfish float behind his wall. “You must have felt awful… I hope you can forgive me…” The genuine remorse in their voice sent his mind into an anxious panic. He wanted, no, needed to do something now. He just couldn’t bear one more minute of their sadness…

“N-no it’s fine!” They turned back toward him in shock when his hands grasped at the hem of their shirt, his sitting form straining to try and coax their standing one closer. He just didn’t want them to pull away again… “I’m not mad or anything, I just… wish you would talk to me, you know? I want to help…”

They were silent for a few moments, eyeing him with mixed emotions and darkened cheeks, but soon let him pull them in. He rested his head on their stomach while his arms glued to their waist. It may not have been the most conventional position, but it was one where they were close, so frankly, Levi could care less. He felt them settle into it slowly, resting an arm around his shoulders while their fingers combed softly through his hair. The feeling almost made him shiver, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood.

After several long minutes locked in tranquility, he found that he just had to ask…

“MC… Is this helping…?” His heart skipped a beat when he finally heard their laugh once more, soft and charming as it always was…

“Yes, Levi… You always do…”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me fanfic #obey me gender neutral mc #leviathan x mc #leviathan

319 notes · View notes

wri0thesley · 3 years

Text

many many anons under the cut bc i didn’t want anyone to feel like i was ignoring them and i wanted to respond to u all! warning for small text too, it was so long i wanted to make it look smaller fgbnjkgkjn

Anonymous asked: NAT... you can write WHATEVER you want! It's your blog, and I hope that rude anons can learn to respect that. I used to be on your blog just for jjba content too, so when you started getting into jjk I was indifferent but eventually you dragged me into jjk so hard!! I already like bnha, so seeing you write for it only made me happier! I hope that you continue to write whatever make YOU happy:) ❤and yes, longer fics certainly doesnt mean it's better, quality over quantity

ahh i’m happy that you are here for all three!! i always feel so accomplished when someone is like ‘your constant screaming made me think about jjk <3′. all three of the fandoms are fairly popular and i tag everything v carefully so i hope people who do use the filtering find that useful!!!

Anonymous asked: Goodness gracious. People really be out there thinking they're entitled to dictating what kind of content you should be making

i think part of it might be that i do take requests so people feel like they have like . . . a certain right to certain kinds of my content? i take requests mostly bc they keep me motivated, i like making content for ppl who cant find what they want bc i’ve Been There, but maybe people think i am a pushover? idk i am just trying to have a good time!!!

Anonymous asked: Hi. I only started following you a few days ago but please ignore that rude anon. People are so fucking entitled towards writers it's insane. I recently had someone throw a fit for "spoiling" something in my fanfic, even though the fic was about a manga-exclusive character, so what did they expect?? Overall I've really enjoyed your writing so random assholes coming to guilt you is just a shitty thing that happens. Keep going with what you wanna do.

ah gosh anon i’m sorry about that :(. i’m always super careful tagging spoilers and stuff but like, if someone clicks on a fic about say, naoya or the steel ball run boys and is mad that i spoil something they havent found out yet . . . yeah thats on them fgbnkjgfkjn

Anonymous asked: That...that anon had the nerve to say "we". The fuck?! No no no anon, YOU'RE the only one talking and you're just talking for yourself, don't you dare try and lump us other anons/followers up with you to make yourself look like you're right. We love you nat and we appreciate you. It's your blog, you're allowed to write about whoever and whatever. This brain dead anon just needs to either go read someone else if they're that salty or write their own stuff if they're that impatient.

gosh i WISH some of my mad anons would just write their own stuff honestly. idk if this anon thought they were talking for everybody but i guess they expected anons to agree with them and not be mad at them. i appreciate u anon ;_;

Anonymous asked: Just want to say that ily and you’re one of the best jojo fanfic writers in my opinion 💗 I don’t think you’re half assing jojo fics and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you being multi fandom. A lot of jojo blogs have started posting about jjk so it’s not as if you’re the only one. I’m not sure why you get hate like this but I think it’s just because you’re one of the popular writers and that makes people bitter for whatever reason. Keep being you and posting about the things that make you happy 💕

honestly after so long writing for jojo - i’ve written well over 200 jojo reader insert fics - sometimes it feels like i’m retreading stuff, and that’s when i take a break bc i dont wanna half-ass stuff!!! i love all of my fellow jojo friends who are posting about jjk too, i appreciate them <3.

Anonymous asked: Hey my dude, ur writing has really grown since the jojo days and its better and awesome seeing u become happier to branch off and write in different fandoms 🤌🤌 those stupid anons are just boring farts that couldnt be bothered making their own content 😤😤 is it possible to block them to ease ur mind?

hello anon!! i run a statcounter for IPs but it doesnt always work for ppl who access through the tumblr app, i don’t think; a lot of the anon hate i get i just use the ‘block’ option, but last night got to me because i’ve been getting that kind of writer a lot which is . . . a bad look for the jojo fandom who are, as a whole from the ones i’ve interacted with, lovely!!! <3

Anonymous asked: People often forget, the person behind art or writing, is just another regular fan. You deserve to be happy with what you create and we should be thankful you share your talent with us. You also have right to change your main interests, and it's very normal thing. Jojo is one of the MANY things that you write for and all you get from that is a like or share. Its not your job. It's your fun thing to do, in spare time. You haven't betrayed anybody. That person was just rude, selfish and bored.

i am just a person doing my best!!! anime fanfic is one of many interests i have and i already devote a lot of time to it honestly, i love when people tell me they’ve enjoyed something i made bc it makes it feel worthwhile but equally it gets to me a lot when people are rude because i am usually trying my hardest.

Anonymous asked: Bro that jjba anon... the entitlement🤮 Fam, you write whatever you want to write😤 -Saturday

dfnjbkjnkgf i find most fic readers are NOT entitled at all and are just grateful but when they are . . . oof.

Anonymous asked: It's funny how people throw "we got you popular" and they think you start apologize and cry. Your writing and passion made you gain few numbers on a follow counter, nothing more. I think I'm too old for stuff like this, we are nothing more, but +1 on a number scale. You ow us nothing, we ow you nothing. Popular... Funny word. You just write for fun of it, fake scenarios about someone's manga characters. It's not that deep. Have fun and don't listen to people like this. I knew it's not that easy, but they are really not that important as they think they are.

extremely fun fact for people who think ‘popularity’ is important to me: i would 100% rather have 10 people who regularly comment, reblog my fics with tags and interact with me than 100 people who read my fic and either leave a like or simply move on. i think this is true for the VAST MAJORITY of writers tbh. i’m glad that people think i am a ‘popular’ blog (i am not in the grand scheme of things, one of my ex-best friends used to run a kpop reader insert blog with like 30,000 followers) bc it gives me an ego boost lmao, but i really just want people to read and enjoy the stuff i write!!!

Anonymous asked: I followed you a while ago for jojo and when my friends started getting into jjk i was like...eh sounds like work...but now that I see you writing for it I feel really motivated to get into it!!! I really enjoy your writing and I want to be able to read the new stuff too!

ah anon i really hope you like it!!! it’s only one season rn if u wanna watch the anime and there isn’t too much of the manga to catch up on either but it is a lot of fun and it’s nice to be in a fandom that’s like, excited about a new chapter and new plot developments every week!

Anonymous asked: Pls dont reply if u dont want to! <3 I'm not sure if this will be of any help to you or not but this is the kind of thing that often helps me and is the only way I know to try comfort others so I wanted to give it a go~

Now im not gonna say 'dont feel bad pls' bc I know that's not really useful but what I do think is useful is just discussing why that anon and many others feel the need to respond that way. As someone who follows a lot of writing blogs myself and have done for a long time, i've seen my handful of favourite writers come and go for different reasons, lose motivation for a while, gain motivation for a while, go from multi to single fandom, or single fandom to multi. Often times as a reader it can be upsetting when things change but it's also important as a reader to understand that some things aren't in anyone's control, I can't control what my favourite writers become a fan of or lose interest of, I can't control things in their personal lives that may motivate or demotivate them to write, but what I can do is support them as long as they're active, and if they move on to do things i'm no longer interested in or i'm the one that changed interests, rather than being upset that they're evolving to do other things or that they're not evolving with me, I think it's important that I still feel thankful for the works that I enjoyed while we were still on the same page and this is how I personally deal with those negative feelings. I think the anons that lash out at you probably just dont know what to do with themselves, maybe they got attached to your works while you were still only a jjba blog and now that you're evolving they're upset, while I understand how they feel, they're going the completely wrong way about it. I've learned to take these things and turn them into something positive for myself or at least something bittersweet that I can move on from but the anons that lash out at you for whatever reason probably haven't learned this yet. Maybe it's because i've moved on and changed interests a lot myself that I know how these things go for both writers and readers but those anons maybe haven't experienced this as much so they dont know what to do with themselves other than complain that you've changed and throw insults at you in an attempt to get you to revert back. None of this is because of the quality of your writing like they want you to believe, it's literally just because you've evolved and while some of your old followers might not like the new content for no reason other than it not being their cup of tea, it's definitely not regressed at all. You are pumping out a lot of content right now but every single thing i've read has just been better than the last. Things that really stand out to me is how well you get characterisation down to a T and all of your dialogue is just on point and from the pov of a reader I think those things seem the hardest to get right so I am such a huge fan of your stuff at the moment and I can tell you're really putting so much thought and care into each and every fic no matter how fast you're producing it, I think the fact that you're also proud of what you're writing at the moment really shines through as well and I just adore the passion that radiates from every completed request as well as in the responses for the subsequent thirsts resulting from these works that appear in your ask box later (I know i've sent quite a few by now~)

Just to be clear i'm not defending those anons in any way, while I can understand what they might be feeling/why they're reacting in the way they are I still believe it's just so immature to be hateful online point blank. Even during a time where I still got upset with writers if they started doing something else I still never targeted that negativity directly to the writer and sending rude or hateful comments whether on anon or not never something i'd stooped low enough to do even when I still had an immature way of thinking, however, I hope that it might make it a little easier to brush them off if we try and understand what they're really upset about, and that they're just putting the blame for their negative feelings onto the wrong thing rather than coming to terms with change themselves.

hello anon!! i appreciate the long message. i do feel bad for people who have no interest in what i’m currently producing and i get that they feel upset about it; i’ve watched a lot of fellow jojo writers move on completely or just stop posting, honestly. this kind of thing is why i was so intense about asking people if it would be better if i made a separate blog but the resounding answer seemed to be ‘i’m just vibing with whatever happens and i’ll block tags as needed’.

i often return to works by my favourite reader-insert writers who no longer write for the fandoms i like (and i read stuff bc it sounds interesting or i trust the person who writes it), but change can be difficult and i guess at this point i’ve - whether u like me or not lmao - been a fixture in jojo reader-insert tumblr for a While so it’s probably kind of jarring.

anyway i really appreciate you and the nice words! <3

Anonymous asked: hi nat! I just wanted to pop in and say that regardless of what fandom you write for, the love and care you pour into your writing and into interacting with followers who care about your work as well is really obvious. you're doing this for FREE and people should appreciate what you've given us so far, since ultimately this blog should be for you, whatever that means to you at any point in time. it's ok to jump fandoms! the important thing is that you feel good about what you're producing and that it makes you happy. everyone else is just a bonus - but, seeing you on my dash certainly makes me happy : ) I hope you feel better soon!

thank you anon! i’m feeling much better and happier today. birthdays are very difficult for me (i did not think i’d be alive at eighteen, much less 25!) so this event is definitely kind of a way for me to concentrate on something else, and i’m a little bit extra sensitive atm. i appreciate you so much, thank you for the kind words!!! <3

Anonymous asked: Hello! I just wanted to say, write what YOU want and make YOUR writings as long as you'd like. 💖 To the anon who is like "We mAdE yOu FaMoUs dOnt HalF asS iT" stfu, let people do what they wanna do. If you think they half do it, write something better and longer you asshat.

this is an open invitiation to that anon to send me a link to their writing blog and i’ll hype them up i promise <3

Anonymous asked: nat i'm so so sorry about that ask please know that your older followers don't share the same opinion :( sometimes people forget about the living, breathing person behind the screen smh. you are not a machine. you absolutely should not restrict yourself to posting about one fandom forever. yes, we're first pulled in by your amazing content, but we stay for your wonderful personality and work ethic. please just keep being you, taking up projects you feel comfy with! <333 bless u

ahh thank u anon! unfortunately i actually am a writing robot, i’m sorry u had to find out this way. my jojo chip has been removed, please send it back so i can continue to not half-ass my jojo work. fgnjkbgjkfn thank you so much angel!!! i appreciate you ;_;.

Anonymous asked: i don’t think it’s fair for other people to say shit about what you choose to write about because on tumblr and other writing platforms, writers are constantly developing how they write and the fandoms that they write for. it’s not fair for someone to criticize that “you don’t care about jjba blah blah blah” because you can enjoy new shows/manga. and like you said you’ve grown so much!! proud of you nat and im glad that ive been able to read your works (sincerely other nat)

i am STILL waiting for you to come and fight me other nat fgnjkbnf. it’s nice to be enjoying different things! i am constantly learning new things and reading new works and making new friends and improving and i think that’s important. i do care about jjba - a lot! but i can care about other things too! <3

Anonymous asked: I may not be one of your oldest followers, but i've been here for almost 3 years. Yes, i started following u for ur jojo content, but let me tell u, ur newfound motivation and enthusiam for other fandoms was honestly contagiuos for me. And i say this as a person who finds very difficult to move from one interest to another. Jojo is great, but so are other fandoms. Please don't let some faceless scum rob u that motivation. This is ur blog and u r always free to write whatever u want.

honestly, i have been there! i am autistic and i have special interests and watching other people move on to stuff i’m not vibing with has made me sad in the past, but i want people to be happy more than anything and sometimes that means new things and change! <3

Anonymous asked: Hi Nat! I saw that rude anon message & I just wanted to pop in & say that they're wrong. You're not betraying anyone & you should write whatever it is you want to write. I followed you for jojo & I'm not familiar with the other fandoms that you write for, but personally it makes me SO happy to see you enjoying new things! It's always good to find joy wherever you can, so keep writing what you're interested in. There a lot of ppl who want to see you happy and healthy <3

honestly the idea of it being a GRAND BETRAYAL is so funny, i am just writing anime fanfic here and thriving!!! tysm anon! <3

Anonymous asked: Those anons can piss off! They have no right to judge how long or how short your writing is. If they want longer content write it their damn selves. I think your writing has improved wonderfully and I originally followed for Jojo and I'm enjoying all the content period. I don't even watch jujutsu ( not my cup of tea personally) but I love seeing the creativity and the interactions. You write what makes you happy Nat and that's on that! You don't owe anybody anything! I know how hard writing is and when your consuming new content it's hard to make content for something else. That doesn't mean you don't like it any more your just doing something different for a while. Love you and your content and I'm enjoying the love your putting into your content whether long or short. ♥♥💕 Sending love your way!

honestly my idea of ‘short content’ is still over 1k words, i’m not good at reeling myself in! i guess it’s bc they see like, 1.5k jojo fic versus 5k jjk fic but it’s not that i didn’t enjoy the first fic, just that the point and the story came a lot quicker and so did the natural end! thank you anon, i appreciate you ;_;

Anonymous asked: Hello! Just wanted to let your know that I think your writing is awesome, and that you should write for whoever and for whatever you want to! You dont have to stay loyal to one fandom or anything, and your followers shouldn't expect that from you! It's not like they are paying you to write, you are doing this for free, and because you enjoy it and it makes you happy! If they dont like your stuff, they dont have to follow you, they can go to other blogs that cater to their taste, and they definitely don't need to be sending you such hurtful comments, and they dont get to make you feel sad about your writing! Just because they followed you during your earlier stages of writing, doesn't mean you owe them some type of loyalty or compensation! You can write literally whatever you want as long as it makes you happy! That's what your hobby and your blog are for! I hope you know that alot of your followers love your work and think that you are an amazing writer and are down to support the work that makes you happiest! 💖💖

ahh thank you so much anon!!! i am always so bowled over by how many people are nice to me when something like this happens, i am sending you my love <3

Anonymous asked: don’t listen to them!! we love you as a writer no matter what you write, because you’re a good person and a talented writer!! you shouldn’t have to change what you write to please a bitter person, and if they only want jjba, they can go to another blog instead of bringing you down. you’re doing amazing and they should be thankful you grace us with your talents!!

to be totally honest, if i was half-assing or not vibing with content i was making i just. wouldn’t post it. like you’d be able to TELL when i was half-assing stuff just to get words out (source: i have re-read my own nanowrimo works). there are lots of great jjba blogs who could do with more followers n interaction!!! i hope they do find them and i hope they’re nice to them :(.

Anonymous asked: Please don’t pay attention to that anon. People only have that confidence when they have anon turned on. Them looking through your blog despite feeling that way is peak fan behavior and speaks to how addicting your writing is. Naturally, you can’t please everyone and there will be people who are irrational and feel entitled to tell you what to do or what to write no matter what. Trust me when I say they’re a small minority and are more likely probably passing viewers rather than regulars. I check your blog about three or more times a day because I love reading not just your fics but also your takes, banter with other anons, or even random updates. Brainrot posts? LOVE TO SEE IT!!! Desk update? AMAZING!!! With that being said, don’t feel pressured to continue pushing out content for others. Write what makes you happy! You’ve been writing for JJBA for 4 years and it’s completely normal + healthy to get into new media. I’m not sure if it would mean much, but your love for JJK has gotten me excited to start it too!!

anon i really hope you enjoy it!!! sometimes these anons remember stuff i’ve posted and said better than i do tbh, i am living in their heads rent free i guess!

Anonymous asked: I've been following you for a couple of years and honestly it would always be a joy to see when you posted. Your writing has improved and I'm very happy you're enjoying yourself ! I know it hurts hearing and seeing stuff like that but I'm happy you're here. I'm honestly blessed everytime you post. Your writing is phenomenal. I love reading it even if its characters that I dont care for. You capture their essences so well and weave an amazing tale within the prompts and whatnot. You're amazing nat!

wehh thank you so much!!! re: the improvement, i really don’t feel like it has and then i re-read something i wrote when i first started and i’m like oh my god maybe it has. did i really write about jotaro acting like that.

Anonymous asked: Hi Nat. I recently became a follower of yours and I'm really saddened to see you get hate. You seem like a genuinely sweet person with amazing talent! I'm a writer myself and, unfortunately, get the same kind of comments. And when you get those comments, it doesn't leave you feeling motivated. People need to understand that people can and will, at times, grow out of fandoms. (1 Not just that but you're doing all of this for free. Again, I'm sorry you got such a comment. But please know that I'm proud of how far you've come. I'm proud that you're living a life that makes you happy. And no matter what fandom you may find yourself in next, I will always enjoy your writing. Take care of yourself. (2 end

HELLO NEW FOLLOWER I LOVE YOU (i get a lot more a day now than i used to and i feel guilty about not being able to look through so many blogs but i do try and follow back other writers for my fandoms!! ;_;). i’m sorry you get the same kind of comments! i’m always just happy to see people i like enjoying new things, even if i have no interest in it (hello to all of my mutuals who write for hunter x hunter and haikyuu, not interested but i’m sure you’re having a great time and i support you!!!).

Anonymous asked: I'm sure you're getting a barrage of supportive messages now (at least I hope so) but I figured I'd add my voice, because I'm a longtime follower. Your writing is, and always has been, wonderful. I've been so happy to see you and Haz get to a place that works for you both. Idk if it's obvious for everyone, but you seem like you're emotionally in a pretty good place most of the time these days, and it makes me really happy to see that. I followed years ago for JJBA content, but I stayed because regardless of what content you put out, I find your wit delightful. And I'll stick around even if you move fandoms entirely, because whatever content or editorializing you produce is going to be worth reading, regardless of what it's for.

ahh, anon!! thank you for sticking around so long, sorry if you’re old enough to have been around the vore and jorts and spider rohan fiascos! <3 i am definitely a lot more stable than i have been and - barring the Pandemic Related Mental Health Issues - happier! i’m glad that it’s noticeable! <3

Anonymous asked: It actually makes me mad how entitled some people are. Nat, you're not a content creating machine and those who expect you to be are not worth wasting a thought on. Your love for something is not measured in word counts and for you to write every day without getting burned out in the slightest you really must have a burning passion and huge dedication to your craft. If others decide to send hate then allow me to send admiration because I can feel your love and hard work in each post you make!

i try and write every day bc it’s super good for my little ocd/autistic brain to have routines and distract itself, so i’m glad other people can enjoy them because that makes me motivated to carry on! like, i write for myself mostly bc the content i want i sometimes get find, but filling requests and writing for other people also leaves me with happy warm fuzzies too! i appreciate you!! <3

Anonymous asked: If people only care about your writing for the jojo porn that’s on THEM, not you. Your writing was amazing when I followed about a year ago, and it’s only gotten better and will continue to get better! I think it really comes through when you enjoy what you’re writing and it adds a whole other layer of worth to it, because not only are you making free content but you LIKE that content and we can all gush about it together!!! More than just fans, I think you’ve created a community here and we don’t just stick around to read smut, I promise you that. -Reronon

i do miss having a discord community bc it was nice to talk to everyone in real time but it was hard work, i am glad that people feel like they can just come into my askbox and gush! i’m not very friendly in real life and people tend to think i am cold and stuck up so i work very hard to try and seem friendly and approachable online, which is much easier for me because i get to think and re-draft before i type! <3

Anonymous asked: Hi Nat! I’m sure you’re getting a lot of messages like this right now but I just wanted to say for what it’s worth that, as a person who originally followed you for jjba content and hasn’t watched/read any of the other series you’re currently writing for, I’m honestly still along for the ride. This is your blog and you’re allowed to do what you want with it and put out what content you feel like writing. Sometimes??? People acquire new interests??????? Shocking! I know absolutely nothing about jjk or bnha but out of curiosity still read some of your posts about them and even though I might not Get It, I still enjoy them because I think you’re a very talented writer! Honestly, as long as you’re still writing, I’m still down to clown, and whenever you take breaks (which are important!) I’ll still be waiting for your return or supporting and respecting your decision to stay away longer. Don’t let the entitled assholes get you down. Utilize YOUR blog and YOUR space however YOU choose. Your talent and kindness speak for themselves. Love you!!! ❤️❤️❤️

anon i care about you and i am so appreciative of you and everyone for sending me such nice messages! i am running out of ways to say it but it’s true, it really does mean a lot to me ;_; <3

#nat.txt

13 notes · View notes

morgana-ren · 3 years

Text

Salted Ground

Here have a little overly dramatic, purple prose 1k short I wrote for Kylo Ren while staring at the ceiling last night.

Warnings: Kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, sorta implied noncon and assault, general obsession and nastiness.

Rating: Probably E, cause you know, it’s me.

His coming is heralded by darkness.

A ship so large it blots out the suns, casting an ominous shadow over the village you had come to call home. An eerie silence falls over the encampment; the calm before the storm builds anticipation as the black ship haunts the skies above you. Few have seen it, but all know of it. A weaponized omen of death, prophetic in its arrival.

First Order ships are a common sight in the galaxy, but none such as this one. Those not entombed safely within the metal walls often don’t live to tell the tale. A grand jewel on the crown to signify his rule. His Finalizer.

He had found you once again.

He doesn’t long allow you to dwell on the destruction you’ve hand delivered to the inhabitants of the planet. Manmade fire spits from the underbelly of the craft and his army spews forth from the pods that follow. Mechanized voices bark out orders and civilians, no, friends spill into the streets in a blind panic. The familiar sound of blasters firing couples alongside the shrill screams of your neighbors. Their sorrowful wails carve a hollow home in your stomach and you know their cries are the settlement’s death rattle.

There was no chance for them. If you didn’t run, there would be no chance for you either.

The people here would die needlessly, never knowing it was you who ushered the First Order to their doorstep. The weight of your guilt drags you down as you bolt into the forests, pressure building behind your eyes as you fumble over the lifeless corpse of a kindly woman with whom you used to trade herbs. Survival carries you forward but gut wrenching culpability compels you to take one last look at the swan song composed in your honor.

Thick, black plumes of smoke billow from the huts and pollute the heavens. The cacophony of cries and terror never seems to fade, even as your feet carry you further and further into the dense fauna that lines the forest. Bodies fall lifeless to the ground in the town center as the troopers fire at will and without reason. This was not a negotiation. This was a massacre.

This was to prove a point.

‘I’ll follow you to the ends of the galaxy.’ He had told you once. ‘I’ll annihilate anything that stands in my way.’

His mask had betrayed nothing, no flicker of emotion from behind the vocoder and yet even then you had known he meant it. He spoke the words as if they were pure and simple fact. The bruises he left behind on your delicate flesh meant nothing, he had already branded his ownership of you deeper than you could hope to heal. If you would leave, then he would follow, death and misery trailing his footsteps. Any planet you set foot on in your desperation to claw yourself from his clutches would become fuel for his fire. He would scorch the ground around you, pry you from the burning soil with his own hands only to wrap his fingers even tighter around your neck.

And now he has found you again.

Your feet pound the dirt, tear blotted eyes switching back and forth between the carnage behind you and the path leading deep into the forest. You can hear the shouts of the stormtroopers fanning the area and the leaves and twigs crunching underfoot as you stumble through the thickening shrubbery. The screaming has stopped, but the fires still burn. The smell of ash and scorched flesh lies heavy in the air, clogging your nostrils and mixing the painful lump in your throat with sick.

Dodging vines and logs and driven purely on instinct, you push yourself forward until your chest clenches and your lungs convulse for breath, heart threatening to pound out from your chest. The muscles in your legs twitch and ache, your mind too lost in adrenaline to keep track of how long you’ve been running. The intense pain in your side doubles you over against a nearby tree, clutching at your ribs with trembling fingers.

You can’t see the towers of smoke anymore, but it doesn’t sear the memory from your mind. Not from this home. Not from the one before. The stench of death is the same no matter the location. Death that with you walked hand in hand and wrapped its arms around you and squeezed until you couldn’t breathe unless it allowed you.

The same embodiment of death that was closing in on you now.

Your throat constricts as you think on all the roads that led you here, and how many bodies littered the pathway. His obsession destroys everything that dares to get close to you, and no matter where you run, no matter where you hide, he salts the ground around you and kills any chance you might have had to bloom somewhere new without his thorns tearing into your flesh. Every time you plant your seed, he poisons the soil and everything else your roots might find.

The weight of your past crashes through the walls of the present and every sin in your history clouds your lungs until the air falls short in your chest. Every breath you draw, no matter how deep, doesn’t stop the onset of claustrophobia; it boils and churns in your gut and pounds against your temples until you collapse against a tree trunk, unable to run another foot.

Between the overwhelming nausea and the dizziness that turns your world upside down, you can hear the troopers fan the forests around you. All you can manage to do is pull your knees tighter to your chest and duck your head into your legs in hopes that they don’t see you.

If they see you, you hope they mistake you for a civilian and shoot you. Anything is better than going back to him.

You close your eyes, quiet your thoughts and your mind, try to will away the Earth shattering panic that so trembles your body. Like some remnant of biological instinctive fear, you can practically feel him closing in, as if you can sense him in the same way he’s sensing you. Something deep in your gut tells you that the footfall that approaches is not that of a lowly grunt, but of the Supreme Leader himself.

You refuse to look but you can’t block out the sound of squelching leather as he kneels by you, and though you brace yourself for a blow, it never comes. Only the gentle tug of gloved fingertips digging beneath the cut of your chin, coaxing your head forward toward the source of your seemingly ever present misery. Though you resist him, he seems unbothered. Perhaps even bored.

“Don’t be angry with me.” He whispers, baritone voice just as clear as in your nightmares. “I warned you this would happen.”

There’s no need to voice your thoughts. You know he can hear them regardless. He’ll store each and every one away in his lockbox mind, waiting for the precise time he can wield them against you. He’ll tolerate your impudence, if only for a moment. It will only be punished on the rare occasion he can find no other reason.

His thumb strokes your soggy cheek, even as you shake your head to will him off. It’s a mockery of affection, one he does solely to insult you. The sobs that rack your spine elicit no sympathy from him. You’re not foolish enough to believe that there’s any semblance of humanity hidden beneath his armor. He has proven time and time again that there is no antidote to his venom.

He sits with you quietly, waiting for the moment when your little tantrum runs out of steam. When it seems as though you’ve finally run yourself ragged, he’s more forceful in bringing you up from your knees.

“Come now. I’m tired of this.”

And you’ll follow him through the destruction, cinder and sinew staining the skin beneath your feet, so calloused from running so long only to be dragged back to your gilded cage. You’ll trail behind him as he ascends the ramp to his ship, knowing countless blasters are trained on your pathetic form but none would dare fire.

You’re not that lucky.

Kylo Ren has taught you many things. He’s taught you pain. He’s taught you sorrow. But above all, he’s taught you that there are some fates that are worse than death, and yours is at his side.

Whether you want it or not.

#Kylo Ren #Kylo Ren x reader #tw violence #tw kidnapping #see warnings for more details #just me back on my bullshit #you know how it is

29 notes · View notes

lombredanslaeu · 4 years

Text

hourglass | lee jeno

▸angst, fluff i guess??

▸ summary: sometimes, love just ain’t enough.

▸ WARNING: eating disorder, depression, body dysmorphia, starvation. if any of the above triggers you or if you are not comfortable, please refrain from reading the story.

All your life, you never really cared about your weight. As an engineering student and a part-time musical theatre actor, you never had the reason to be conscious of your body. Engineering required only your brain; no one cared what you wore or what you looked like in class. Musical theatre didn’t have as much standards for appearance than it does with vocals. Your body wasn’t that bad anyway. You were considered skinny by some and many grew envy about how you could eat so much and not gain a pound immediately. However, your perception of your body changed the day you started dating Lee Jeno.

You met Jeno when his company’s CEO decided to treat its artists with tickets to a Wicked show. You got the greatest opportunity of playing Elphaba; with your impeccable vocal talent, it wasn’t an effort to grace the stage and awe the audience. Your production always valued you not only because of your talent, but also because of your warm personality. You first made eye contact with Jeno when his company’s CEO took them backstage to meet the cast after the show. You had time to talk for a while as the CEO became deep in dialogue with the show’s director. It was Taeil who first initiated a conversation with you as the others, especially the youngsters, were too shy to start a conversation with anyone. As everyone warmed up with the other casts, you never failed to notice how Jeno was love-struck with you.

“Wow, your voice is defying the laws of gravity,” another member, Johnny, said to you.

You blushed and shook off the compliment. “Thank you so much. That meant so much to me.”

Everyone scurried off to different areas on the backstage. You were caught off-guard when one of the younger members, Jeno, talked beside you.

“How long have you been performing?” He asked.

“Only just for a year. I wasn’t planning on making this long-term. I only wanted to play a few shows here and there.” You explained. “but, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity of being Elphaba.”

“That was one of the greatest performance I’ve seen in so long.” He said. “I actually really enjoy musical theatre.”

“Really?” You asked, shocked by his confession. “What’s your favorite musical?”

“It used to be Cats,” He said, smiling shyly. “But I think know it’s Wicked.”

“Oh please,” You chuckled. “Cats is a really good show.”

He looked at you, laughing shyly. “Do you like frozen yogurt?”

“I like frozen yogurt,” You smiled.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself going on secret dates with the heartthrob. You would bond over coffee, books, and broadway musicals. You never knew he liked musicals. There would days where he would help you practice songs for your next show and you would watch him practice a choreography for a comeback. You both found the one thing that kept you closer and closer: the love for performing.

“Seeing the happy faces of my fans is one thing,” He started, staring off into the night. “But the look on my parents’ as they say how proud they are of me, is what keeps me going.”

You stared at his side profile and swallowed a lump in your throat. “They have every reason to be proud of you.”

He turned his head to meet your eyes. His eyes lingered on yours for a while before looking down at your lips. You blushed at the feeling he had over you.

“You’re really pretty.” He started. The statement took you by surprise. Not a lot of people tell you that you’re pretty but, if it comes from Jeno, any other doesn’t matter anymore.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” You chuckled. You’re not lying. Jeno has the looks that could make anyone wrapped around his fingers. “I feel like I don’t deserve to be under your gaze.”

“Of course you deserve to be looked at.” He said, more seriously this time. “I could build a gallery of you but that would give me more competitors so, I won’t do that.”

“Jeno, if you wanna kiss me, just do it.” You said. You wanted to punch yourself for what you just said. Normally, you would freak out and leave from embarrassment. But now, you held your gaze stronger. You had no idea where the courage came from.

And he did. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered. It didn’t end there. Later that night, he showed you how beautiful you are.

Sometimes, he would sneak out, with a member or two, to watch one of your shows. He would stare in awe at how people give you their applause. As the spotlight shine down on you, it was like he was seeing a goddess grace everyone with her beauty.

“Dude, if you don’t ask her out, I’m really gonna do it,” His friend, Jaemin, announced beside him.

“I already beat you into it, punk.” He responded boastfully. The shocked look on his friend’s face made him laugh.

Your peaceful relationship was cut short when his boss found out about the thing going on between you two. To say you were shocked by his calm and accepting nature would be an understatement. His company approved of your relationship. It was like the stars have aligned just for the both of you. The news broke out and spread like wildfire on the internet that night. You were too busy rejoicing with your lover that you failed to notice the threats and harsh comments of furious fans until the next morning.

You were supposed to wake up with the bird chirping and the sun shining just for you. However, you found yourself with an unfamiliar feeling in your gut. It was as if you were scared to do anything and go outside. You knew how ugly criticism from fans could be. You understood that many would not approve of your relationship but you accepted that. His company accepted the relationship and his future in NCT is not affected. At the end of the day, the comments would just float around the internet and disappear before you know it.

“You can block off the comments, you know,” He said.

“Yeah, but I think criticism can always help me improve,” You said. You didn’t want him to hate his fans.

“Those aren’t criticisms, Y/N” He replied. “Those are bashful comments.”

“It’s okay, Jeno.” You smiled, pecking his lips. “I can manage.”

Outfits are an important part in musical theatre. They distinguish which character is which, even if the actor is an understudy. You were casted as Regina George in the musical remake of the hit movie, Mean Girls. The director and costume head requested you wear a crop top and skirt for the role and you said yes; after all, you liked really girly outfits. You were looking over your closet and picked out items that might fit the role. You tried on an outfit that you think was a good combination. You looked at yourself in the mirror and felt a slight wave of worry come across your chest. Jeno’s fans might see your show. What would they think if they saw your body was no match to any female idol that Jeno has interacted with? You walked over to your phone and searched up healthy diets for a good figure.

Jeno had a day off and he wanted to see you practice your songs. You both sat at the couch of your small apartment with lyrics sheet in front of you.

“I wanna have pizza for lunch. What kind do you want?” He asked, fishing his phone out of his pocket to order.

“Oh nothing, I’m kinda watching my figure.” You said, looking down to avoid his eyes. You’re still not comfortable in telling people about your diet, especially to Jeno.

“Are you sure? You can burn those off in work outs anyway.” he said, concern washing over his eyes. It worried him that you weren’t eating. Food was one of the things you both bonded over. You had a fancy palette. He thought it was best to trust in you for now.

“I promise. Olivia makes very good hearty meals. I will eat dinner later.” You said.

With so much going on between theatre and your college life, there is only so much you could do in your free time. Working out would take so much of time and with deadlines as the semester is ending, you couldn’t find any time for it. So, you resulted in skipping meals. You only had two more weeks until the Mean Girls show. You just had to make sure your stomach was flat till the end of the production.

“Do you think my cheeks are too full?” You said to Jeno, squishing your face in front of the mirror.

“I think they suit you.” He said before pinching your cheeks. “It’s also really fun to squish.”

“Ouch,” You chuckled before playfully slapping his wrists away.

“You don’t have to worry about them.” He said, wrapping his arms around you. “They make you who you are.”

“That’s very cheesy, babe,” You said while chuckling.

“Y/N, you don’t have to change because other people wants you to.” He replied, more serious this time. “I’ll make sure you believe that you’re the prettiest girl that I’ve ever seen.”

You were stuck with a question on your Physics quiz. You hadn’t eaten anything since you woke up. While you were standing in front of your mirror, you liked how flat your stomach was. The first show happens tomorrow night and you planned on keeping your body that way until then. The lack of food in your system resulted in your brain not working well. You spent many sleepless nights studying for Physics. Usually, you would have solved this problem in under 5 minutes but right now, you only had a minute left in your quiz and you just can’t seem to figure out what to do. On top of that, you were feeling very light-headed. The ding of your professor’s alarm struck a sharp pain from your ears to your head. You winced as you struggled to stand up. Your seatmate looked over to you, checking if you were okay but you smiled it off. You also regretted telling Jeno about your stupid diet because all he did was bug you if you ate already.

jenobear [11:34 am]: babeee, did u eat already??

jenobear [11:34 am]: oops i forgot u have ur quiz. good luck, love <333

jenobear [11:35 am]: make sure u eat, ok?? I love you.

You sighed and typed out an answer. You said you already ate. You hated lying to him but him being overseas made it easier for you somehow. The night of the show came at last. You sat backstage as Olivia helped you with your hair.

“You look pale. Are you okay?” She asked, concerned.

“Yeah, just a bit light-headed.” You replied. “It’s not like I haven’t performed with a headache before.”

“Okay, sure,” She sighed. She knew you too well. You didn’t like to be bugged with questions, especially if you’re preparing for a show. “Wanna eat at that new wings place? Heard it’s really good.”

“Sure, I could need some wings after the show.” You replied. All you needed was to be in shape for a few hours.

The crowd roared their applause as you, and the other casts, bowed as the show reached its end. You felt a migraine creep up your head and you knew its because you haven’t consumed as much food as you needed to lately. It also felt weird that it made you a bit nauseous when your eyes met the spotlight. You were glad bottles of water is all around the backstage. You picked up your phone and smiled to see messages from Jeno and the other members as well.

jenobear [9:30 pm]: never not proud of you. congrats on your show, love. <3

Lee Haechan [9:45 pm]: Y/N!!! Congrats on your show. I’m sure it’s amazing!

Kim Doyoung [9:50 pm]: Sorry I wasn’t able to go, Y/N. I’m sure you did great tonight, Regina George :)

You smiled and thanked them. You decided you wanted to call Jeno but a notification from a social media site distracted you. One of Jeno’s fans came to see the show and posted pictures of you with the caption “Y/N is very talented! I hope to see more of her shows soon~~” You blushed at the compliment. You know you shouldn’t have but you looked at the replies under the post. Your heart fluttered at the sweet compliments. You thought maybe dating an idol isn’t so bad after all. Over the sea of praise come a harsh comment that caught your eye. “I’m sure her vocals are amazing but she should work on her body.” , “Regina George wouldn’t have a match stick figure.” , “she’s kinda bloated. If only she worked on her love handles, I would like her.” You felt a sickly feeling to your stomach. You took each and every word to heart. You scrolled back up to look at the picture the original poster took. You zoomed in on your body and saw what they were talking about. The girls who played Gretchen and Karen, your character’s fellow mean girls, had Barbie doll bodies. Their curves hit at the right places and they had slim legs. You knew that you shouldn’t let this affect you. You have talent, you have personality. But, you also wanted Jeno’s fans to like you. That led you to texting Olivia to cancel your chicken wings plan.

You prepped yourself to see Jeno again after 2 months. He had schedule after schedule and his team went overseas for at least 2 weeks. You limit your diet to soy milk and water. You looked at yourself in the mirror and you could see the changes. Jeno would definitely notice as well but, you liked how you looked. Your jawline was prominent, your waist was thinner, and even your legs got slimmer. It wasn’t easy slipping out of Olivia’s invites for take out and dinner but you managed, somehow. You started to notice how concerned she got each day, especially this morning.

“I grabbed you breakfast, it’s an omurice.” she said, with a warm smile.

“I can’t eat rice, I’m watching my weight.” You said, slurping down the soy milk.

“Since when did you care about your weight?” She asked.

“Since I realized that my body wasn’t in the right shape.” You made sure none of the words came out as bitter or else, she will suspect something was wrong. She didn’t stop bugging you and it started to make you cranky so you just gave in. After consuming the omurice, you couldn’t deny that you felt better. But the guilt started kicking in and the next thing you know, you’re sticking two fingers down your throat in an attempt to vomit what you just consumed. You stared at the mess on the sink and that’s when you knew something was wrong.

“I missed you so much,” Jeno said, as he held you close to his body.

“How are you, my favorite boy?” You stared lovingly to his eyes.

“A bit tired,” He said, taking off his cap and fixing his hair. “But I slept the whole flight.”

“Do you want to just chill here?” You asked. Everyone in the door went to see a movie with the older members. Jeno and Jisung chose to stay behind since they had plans. He snuggled closer to your body. He noticed how your body didn’t feel familiar. He could definitely tell that you were losing weight.

“I am a bit hungry though,” He responded. He wanted to see you eat. It worried him to the core about thin you were looking lately. It wasn’t obvious when you two would FaceTime but it was more apparent in person. He felt you shift slightly at his response. He spoke before you could. “Have you been trying to lose weight?”

“I just wanted to be more fit.” You said, your heart beating faster each time you lie. “I’m working out.”

As someone who works out to maintain his body, Jeno knew well that your body wasn’t a result of working out. But as someone who cares about their appearance, Jeno also knew that he shouldn’t jump into major conclusions yet. He knew how horrible the talk about weight is and he didn’t want to put you through it. Besides, he knew you and he knows that you wouldn’t lie to him.

You felt conflicted as you noticed that Jeno was becoming concerned about how thin you got. To make him believe that you were well, you agreed in eating take-out with him for lunch. You know what to do after, anyway. As you wait for him to finish showering, you decided to check your social media accounts. You tapped on instagram to replied to a comment Olivia wrote on your new post. You laughed silently at how your friends gave funny compliments. Your eyes browsed through the comment sections. Normally, it would be filled with comments about your face, body, and how you didn’t deserve Jeno. This time, it was filled with compliments about how great you look. “I wish I had her body :(“, “Body goals oh my god”, “SKINNY LEGEND QUEEN”. You felt your cheeks blush at the compliments. You realized that the thinner you got, the more you got full of praise. You intend to keep it that way.

Jeno scrolled through his twitter feed and saw an article from a k-pop news page. It was an article about your drastic weight loss. He looked at the pictures included in the article. There were pictures of you from months ago with your old body. Jeno reminisced the first time you met. You looked healthy and happy. You didn’t have the curviest figure, but you were healthy. Following the old pictures were recent pictures of you, both from your recent social media posts and pictures from fans during your latest theatre shows. Your ribs were more prominent and it created a tidal wave of concern to wash over Jeno. He didn’t realize how much he missed the old you. The one who was never scared to try different food. Now, it was like every time he asked you to eat with him, you always refuse. But, he was too kind to base a fight over your appearance.

You sat across the couch with Olivia. You two decided to watch the latest season of The Office.

“Wait, let me use the bathroom for a while” She announced. While she did her business, a phone on the coffee table in front of you lit up. Your phone was laid beside hers so you looked over to see it was her phone that had the notification. What you didn’t expect was who sent her the message.

You have one new message from Lee Jeno.

You didn’t know what to think. It would be immature of you to accuse them of being unfaithful when you don’t know what the message contained. But why would she text him? Why would he text her? As in on cue, Olivia came back from the bathroom.

“Uhm, Liv” You started. “Why are you texting Jeno?”

She stared at you. She knew what you would think but she promised Jeno she wouldn’t tell you about what they were talking about.

“Oh, you know what?” You said suddenly. “It doesn’t matter. You two can be friends and I trust both of you.” You tried so hard not to sound jealous because you weren’t. Olivia is like a sister to you.

You knew well that she wouldn’t betray you like that. She smiled slightly and offered you the popcorn. You shook your head and she snapped.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Y/N” She said. You were caught off guard by her outburst. “You wanna know why I’m texting Jeno?”

You gulped, maybe you don’t want to know why. You changed so much of yourself to please him, his fans, and his management. If they betrayed you like this, you wouldn’t know what to do.

“You’re starving yourself, haven’t you?” She asked, her eyes burning holes into your skull.

“I-I’m not…” You stuttered. You thought you were good at lying but apparently, you’re not.

“Really?” She said. “Ever since you started dating Jeno, all you cared about was your weight. We don’t eat out anymore. We don’t cook anymore. What bothered you? Is it him? Is it the fans?”

You know you could never blame anyone, but yourself. It wasn’t their fault you turned out this way. It was one thing to hear about your weight loss from concerned fans, but it was another when it’s coming out of your best friend’s mouth. You didn’t realize that tears were falling out. The moment Olivia wrapped her arms around you, everything collapsed. All the pressure, the frustration that built up inside of you for so long. The urge of wanting to eat, to feel what it was like to taste again. The anger you felt for yourself for letting it become this bad. It all collapsed and fell from your eyes.

“Here, there isn’t a lot of sugar in that,” Jeno offered you some cookies. You decided to visit him in the recording studio. You were doing so well. You decided to enrol yourself in a support group, as well, and you’ve never missed a single meeting. But you knew you were only forcing it. You saw Olivia and Jeno cry over your situation. It was unfair that you bring them into your mess. Maybe if you say you’re fine loud enough, you’ll believe it.

“I’m proud of you.” His eyes sparkled as he said those word to you.

“I love you.” You responded, before leaning in for his lips.

It took everything in Jeno to let you know how much he loves you. By the way his lips merge with yours and how his hands worshiped every crevice of your body. Each touch symbolizes that you are the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on. You knew that; but, you wish you could believe it. With every praise that heat your cheeks, comes a wave of hate that consumes it all. Will a beautiful body make it all better for you?

You hurried to your bathroom the second you got home. Olivia was out to her boyfriend’s night, leaving you alone with your habits. As your fingers hit the spot on your throat, you felt the hot bile rise from your stomach. It burned and left a sour taste to the back of your mouth; and you loved it. You missed the sensation of your stomach being empty. You never knew how much you liked the feeling of being empty until you felt it again.

“Am I not enough for you” Jeno spoke, his eyes attached to his hands that are clasped in front of him.

“What are you saying, babe?” You asked. You tried to see where this was going. You made you sure every lie that came out of your mouth was believable; why is he saying those things?

“I try so hard to make sure everything I do for you is enough,” He said. It was obvious in his demeanor that he was tired. “I worry about you all the time. The members try so hard to cover up for me every time I needed to tend to you.”

You chuckled, “So what is this? You’re telling me I’m a pity party?”

“No,” He shook his head, not believing the attitude you’re giving him. Frustration was starting to let itself be known on his features. “What else could you possibly want? I give you love, I give you space. I get tired as well, you know.”

That’s when it dawned on you. Love is not enough. Love won’t come magically and heal everything. Jeno could give you all the love in the world but it won’t be the remedy. Love doesn’t fix everything. You can’t just go up to a broken person and expect romance would suddenly want them to dance on their grave. It doesn’t work that way. You never had the courage to tell him that. In retrospect, you wish you had it in you to say it.

“You’re enough for me, Jeno.” You said quitely. You didn’t know what else to say. All this time, you never blamed him. But here he is now, throwing it all back at you. You still won’t blame him though, he doesn’t know what it feels like; you’re glad he doesn’t know how it feels like.

“I don’t know how to help you if you can’t help yourself.” He said, sighing as if he has given up. Maybe he has given up. The people who left you before has taught you to swallow every plead to make them stay. That’s the only think you could stomach to swallow right now - the words to make him fight a little longer. You didn’t know how much long it would be for you to be okay, or if you could actually be okay. But, you knew better than to run after others when you can’t even stand for yourself. Some nights, you feel yourself drown in cold sweat. Your body felt like it could give up on you any minute. You laid still and wait; but it never came. You wondered how much longer.

Jeno has a bright future ahead of him. The news of him being single again gave him new schedules that would give him exposure to different opportunities. He didn’t regret leaving. He still occasionally see your musical shows just to check how you are. You will never know this but he hopes it’s always sunny wherever you are.

a/n: i hope you liked this. this hit close to home. i would like to remind you that if you are experiencing symptoms of any mental illness, please check with a professional. mental health is a topic that i hold deeply in my heart since i have experience from mental illnesses. i would also like to remind everyone to always be kind to others - whether it would be our friends, people we don’t like, and even idols. let’s not contribute to anything that could affect them negatively. as always, feedback and requests are always appreciated. love u all <33

#lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno x you #nct jeno #jeno imagines #jeno angst #lee jeno angst #nct dream #nct au #nct dream imagines #jeno timestamps #jeno fluff #nct imagines

108 notes · View notes

lancermylove · 4 years

Text

My One and Only (Part 2/2)

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Kiro x Fem!MC (Reader)

Warning: Contains a little angst

A/N: Part 1 can be found here. This didn’t quite turn out the way I wanted but hopefully, it’s okay.

Word Count: 1616

———————————————

Kiro was starting to feel suffocated with so many people surrounding him, so he made his way out to the balcony.

'What a quiet and peaceful night.' As Kiro gazed at the shimmering gems in the sky, he heard footsteps approaching him.

"Hi, Kiro," a pair of frail arm encircled him from behind, "it has been a while since we have spoken to each other."

He recognized the voice right away. "Hollow, what do you want? Don't touch me." The singer spoke in an annoyed voice as he pushed her arms away.

"Ouch. Kiro, why are you always so mean to me?" She said in a fake, cute voice while batting her long eyelashes. "Oh, but I know a way you will be nice."

"I will never be nice to you, no matter what." Kiro replied, trying hard to hold back his anger. He started to walk towards the tinted French doors that led into the party room, but Hollow blocked his path.

"You should learn to listen to others when they're talking to you, especially when the most beautiful woman in the world is talking to you," cooed Hollow as she played with Kiro's shirt sleeve. "As I was saying, you should go out with me and leave MC."

"Don't take her name from your foul mouth, and I have no reason to leave her." Kiro's anger was slowly starting to get the better of him. This was not the first time Hollow had attempted to win Kiro's heart, and frankly, he was getting tired of it.

"You need a reason? Well then, I must say your girlfriend's song is very commendable. I was very impressed when I read it."

"How - How do you know about the song? What do you mean you read it?" Kiro snarled as he curled his fists into a tight ball.

"Now that caught your attention, didn't it?" She snickered.

Kiro grabbed her shoulder and shook her, "Where is that song? What did you do with it?"

"Oh, the song is with one of my close friends, and he is so tempted to shred it to tiny pieces-" Hollow was cut off by an angered Kiro.

"Don't you dare!" His grip on her shoulder was getting tighter and tighter.

"Relax, Kiro. I will not do anything to the song as long as you agree to date me and leave MC," she spoke while freeing herself from Kiro's grip, "let me know your final decision by the end of tonight."

Hollow pecked Kiro's cheek and walked away triumphantly. Kiro remained paralyzed, and all he could hear was the clicking of her heels as she vanished into the party hall.

'This can't be.'

'Where did Kiro disappear to?' MC had been searching for a while. She let out a deep sigh and walked out to the balcony to get some fresh air. To her surprise, Kiro was standing in the middle of the gallery, completely frozen.

"Kiro, I have been looking for you everywhere." MC marched up to him with a pout, "Why are you standing like a statue? Kiro? I am talking to you."

MC poked his cheek, but Kiro ignored her and walked to the edge of the balcony.

"Hey...what's wrong? Did something happened?" MC whispered as she approached him and hugged his arm.

"Don't touch me," Kiro said, pulling his arm from her hug. For a second, MC was shocked as she gawked at her boyfriend.

"D-Don't touch me? My dear boyfriend, are you drunk?" She furrowed her eyebrows and placed her hand on her hips, "How many times do I have to remind you to go easy on the drinks?"

"I am not your boyfriend, and I am not drunk." He replied in a sharp voice, causing MC to wince a little.

"You are not my boyfriend? You're definitely drunk." MC took hold of his arm and tugged on it, "Come on, let's get you home."

"I said, don't touch me!" Kiro yanked his arms with force, causing MC to lose her balance and fall onto the marble floor.

"Listen carefully, I am not your boyfriend, and don't dare to come close to me, ever again." Kiro's actions and words were out of character, and MC was at a complete loss of words as she could only stare at him with tears in her eyes.

"You and I are over." With those harsh words, Kiro stormed towards the party hall.

MC jumped to her feet and ran after him, grabbing hold of his shirt. "You are b-breaking up with me? Did I do something to hurt you?"

While MC was pleading for him to answer her question, Kiro was holding back the tears that were threatening to fall. He swallowed a lump in his throat and spoke in a drained voice, "You haven't done anything wrong. I am just tired of you."

Kiro freed his shirt from MC's grip and sluggishly walked into the party hall. He made his way to a quiet hallway and rested his forehead against the nearby wall.

'I am sorry, MC. I can't let Hollow destroy your prized possession. I love you very much and...I am sorry.' Kiro balled his fist and punched the wall, trying once again to hold back his tears.

"So, you abandoned her?" Hollow's taunting voice rang through Kiro's ears. "Good, now it's just you and me."

"Where is the song?" He asked in a low voice, controlling the rage pent up inside him.

"It's safely returned to her house." She said playfully, "Now let's go!"

Kiro let Hollow drag her away from the party, but little did he know that MC was watching them from the balcony.

~~~x~~~x~~~x~~~x~~~

(Narration change: MC’s POV)

Two long years had passed since my breakup with Kiro. I had tried hard to fix everything between us, but he refused to talk to me, and at one point, he even ended up blocking me. It was hard getting him out of my mind and heart, so I eventually gave in to my heart and quietly admired him from afar.

I sat in the cafe that Kiro and I often visited. 'This coffee was his favorite. Kiro...I miss you.'

The TV was playing in the background, but for the most part, I was ignoring it until the reporter's words caught my undivided attention.

"Now for the latest breaking news," the lady reporter blared in an excited voice, "the story about Kiro and the solo artist MC."

'A story about me and Kiro?' I glanced at the TV screen. 'How did they even find out about that? Kiro's fans are not going to be happy.'

"We have found out that superstar Kiro and MC had been dating two years ago. According to their close friends, they loved each other, but one day they suddenly broke up. No one knows the reason behind their breakup, but our leading investigation team has gotten their hands on valuable information. Suzuki san, please tell us what you have learned."

I waited patiently for the reporter to finish the story while taking a sip of my hot coffee. 'They know the reason for our breakup?'

For a brief second, my mind went back to the moment on the balcony. 'You haven't done anything wrong. I am just tired of you.'

"Our trusted source informed us that the reason behind the breakup was Hollow, the famous online celebrity."

'Hollow? W-What is she talking about?’ My mind was rushing like crazy, making me feel dizzy.

The field reporter continued, "Hollow was responsible for taking one of MC's composition and threatening Kiro with it. To prevent the song from getting stolen, Kiro dumped MC and began dating Hollow.”

After hearing those words, I had no idea how to react. 'Kiro wanted to save my song? How did Hollow even know about my song? What is going on?'

As I sat still, drowned in my thoughts, my eyes moved about the cafe and caught sight of a familiar figure. I arose from my seat and made my way to his table.

His eyes were glued to the coffee cup he held tightly in his quivering hands. I quietly took a seat next to him and studied his face. Though he looked just as handsome as before, his usually bright eyes were dull, and his skin had grown pale.

"What the reporter said - is it true?" I tried to sound serious, but my voice cracked as soon as the words left my lips.

He didn't reply.

"Ki-" I stopped midway, realizing that we were in a public place, "Mr. Chips, is that the real reason you left me?"

I tenderly touched his hand, and though Kiro didn't reply, his downcast eyes told me everything I needed to know.

"Your reason for leaving me was the song? I could have written another one. Why didn't you tell me?" I couldn't believe that he would sacrifice our relationship for my song.

"Y-You said the song meant a lot of you. It was your first song and-" Kiro mumbled, letting his words trail off.

My heart was in turmoil, and without thinking once, I embraced Kiro. "You meant more to me than anything."

"Meant?" He sniffled.

"No, Mr.Chips. Nothing is more important than you. You are my one and only love." I pecked his cheek and squeezed him tighter.

"I am sorry, MC. Please forgive me." Kiro cooed and returned my embrace.

"How could I not forgive you? After all, a wise man once told me that if a woman truly loves a man, then she would forgive him for the mistakes he makes."

“That man sounds smart.” Kiro chuckled before pulling me into a deep kiss.

------------------------------------

➣ MLQC Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

#mlqc kiro #kiro x reader #kiro x mc #mlqc

32 notes · View notes