#does he yearn to be soft and nurturing to his loved ones? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sky-fire-forever · 7 days

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I've been thinking of some system Ed ideas because I'm a system and I think it's a neat concept

The Kraken is not an alter at all. He's just a persona both Ed and Blackbeard put on. He's not separate from either of them and is the mask both of them use to hide their softer sides.

Ed/Edward: The host. His sense of identity is very dubious at best. He's the sadist of the system. The one who "loves a good maim" and who played knife parade and who enjoys violence to a degree. Not killing, though. He never takes it far enough to be the one doing the killing. That hurts too much. Reminds him too much of killing his father. Ed is easily bored and wants new things, new experiences. But he doesn't necessarily want to retire or be a normal person. He just wants something exciting in new way. Ed is who falls in love with Stede, head over heels. He loves how new and exciting Stede is, all the little things that make Stede so bizarre are what endear Ed to him. He loves him so much. Ed is often erratic and has changing moods that fluctuate, but at his core, he's a man who wants new things and who can get extremely depressed when he doesn't have proper enrichment

Blackbeard: The pragmatic "strategic genius" of the system. Surprisingly the less sadistic one out of him and Ed, but also the one more likely to kill, directly or indirectly. Blackbeard is the one who comes up with the plans, who sees the best way forward. He's actually a pretty quiet guy, but he's prideful. He takes a great deal of pride in the execution of his plans especially. He cares about what others think about him a lot more than Ed does. He doesn't particularly love Stede, especially not when compared to Ed. He honestly thinks he kinda gets in the way. He's the one who manipulates Izzy into sticking around, who pulls the strings, who really thinks he can kill Stede like he plans to. But he also needs Izzy a lot more than Ed thinks they do. He will sacrifice anything and anyone to achieve his goals, though.

Jeff: Yes, Jeff is a headmate. He's the one who yearns for an out of piracy. He's a trauma holder and resents how much anger is inside of him. He just wants to be a normal person living an idyllic life outside of piracy and violence, but finds himself to be incapable of it. He's prone to lashing out, to fits of violence, especially when he's reminded of all he isn't permitted to be. He just wants to retire, to run an inn, to be an accountant, anything but the life he feels trapped in. He hates who he is and everything he's made to be.

Pip: Pip is a child alter in the system. He's probably around the age of ten to fourteen and he's actually pretty violent. He's full of anger at how his life has turned out, at who he is, at all he's suffered from. He's angry at the injustice of it all, so he lashes out with words or actions. Lashing out makes him feel more in control in a world he feels helpless in. He hates feeling powerless, so he'll do anything to assert control over any situation he's in. He doesn't ever want to be helpless or small.

Eve: Eve splits when Stede leaves and the Kraken Era begins. She is actually the least violent of all the headmates and is the "perfect wife" the system thinks Stede wants. The perfect partner, soft and gentle and sweet. She wouldn't hurt a fly and she tries to take of her crew, especially from Ed, who keeps lashing out at them. She wants to be gentle and nurturing and kind, but often fails in the execution because she doesn't fully know what she's doing. She borrows a lot of traits from Ed's mother.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd headcanons #edward teach #system headcanon

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geniuscorp · 1 year

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unless it's an emergency, whenever i try to talk to you, you always get pulled away.

this is a love story. that's important to remember. to anyone curious enough to look past the palisades of their parents and the bitter anger only heartbreak can leave behind, if you dug into the dirt of the grave their childhood is buried under, you would see above all else a yearning, deep, detrimental love; some people are not meant to be without another and for lex that another is lena.

it starts the way most love stories do: with introductions. she is four and he is eight and they smile at one another shyly, awkwardly, certain for the first time in both of their young lives that finally a match has been met. this will change over the years. gentle, genuine admiration will slough off as shit slurry might in the rain, revealing the cold and jagged slate beneath, leaving them both breathless with anger and rage, but not yet. not yet.

in their first initial moment, following those tentatively happy smiles at being not alone, it seemed as though lex might be tallying her up, evaluating her somehow and it settled between as a peach stone might. over the years, even though he couldn't see it, he nurtures the stone. waters it with memories. keeps the soil of their connection soft with laughter and curiosity.

and all the while, the roots of the stone snuck around him as tightly as a ship lashing. tighter and tighter, until one day they could hardly breath. he suffocates — both of them. that'll be important in a few years when she testifies against him but for now...

(a warning, dear reader. it's not getting any less strange under the cut.)

the woman's name is jessica (obviously not her real name) and she arrives precisely on time, which he appreciates especially considering the price tag attached to her company. her smile is polite and warm; she lets him take her coat and she comments on how beautiful his place is — a penthouse overlooking metropolis, with floor to ceiling windows that offer the most breathtaking view of the city you could hope to find. she is a slight bit older than he'd expected and a little taller than him and both are forgivable, because with her back turned, a mess of impeccably curled black hair cascades down past her shoulder blades and she is exactly what he's looking for.

the clothes she is wearing are just as he requested. pencil skirt, white blouse, heels. professional, clean, simple. familiar. and she doesn't ask him about much and she answers to the name he calls her and they have dinner. that's all he wanted: a dinner and undivided attention. that's all he wants.

they have not been themselves lately - he has not been himself. everything feels remarkably far away, as if he's underwater and he can see the edge of the water and beach in the distance but no matter how much he flails in the water, he cannot get any closer to the shore. in fact, it feels as though the more he fights the further he drifts. lena is a product of it. she's so far from him now, he can hardly see her anymore.

jessica touches his arm and sees something in his face that gets her to her feet, moving around the table slowly. the perfume is a little heavy but it's perfect, too, and she halts only for a moment before sliding a hand over his shoulder and sitting in his lap. it's too much and repulsive and his immediate urge to launch her away and reel back is so strong that his feet plant, the chair schrrrr as he pushes back, away from the table. but he does not push her off.

lex takes a deep, mildly frantic breath in through his nose. she presses a light kiss to the hinge of his tensed, clamped shut jaw --

BBBBBNNNZZZZZZZ. apologies for the interruption, sir, your sister has arrived. she's on the elevator up.

lex abandons the dinner and the escort and stomps out into the hall right as the doors ding! open and lena stands there in the centre looking as small as he ever has seen her. they haven't spoken in months. not really. she looks like she's been practicing something, like she's been psyching herself up for whatever this moment is supposed to be for hours.

and though they don't realise it, from this moment - when she says unless it's an emergency, whenever i try to talk to you, you always get pulled away - everything will be counted in either Befores or Afters and most of their befores are happier memories: him making such incredible gestures and effort to make her happy, flying halfway across the world just to make sure he didn’t miss her birthday. sending postcards from wherever he was in the world, whether it was for a meeting or a vacation; letting her have his ice cream when they were kids when lillian told her she couldn’t dare.

the afters are so much more awful. their after will be a sharp look and a sharper, angrier instruction (ever aware of the risk it would be for her to see his dinner guest because she would know, she would fucking know so instantly) to go home. to keep her nose out of his business and do what she's told.

she leaves. he fucks the escort and scrubs his skin in the shower afterwards so badly it bleeds.

#uh oh!!!!!#this is so nasty #abuse tw #ask to tag #implied abuse tw #implied self harm #for the ending really #lgbtcorp #v || to protect mankind from an extinction. (dctv)

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oyasuminto · 2 years

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OC Intros

I plan on making full-on bios at some point, like one post per character, but for the time being I’ll give you these little summaries!

Argus Sullivan

Argus is a hot-headed, sadistic, misogynistic, 29-year-old warehouse worker suffering from erotomania; a delusional disorder resulting in intense obsessive tendencies and the belief that the object of his ‘affections’ feels just as strongly towards him.

He wants the ideal white-picket-fence life with a spouse, 2.5 kids, maybe a dog or two, even if that means going to extreme lengths to keep his spouse in line. His “canon” obsession is Cherie.

blueskidoo

blueskidoo is an 18-year-old Catholic school student trying to break from the influence of her overly strict parents and a self-proclaimed proud morosexual; she’s attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses exclusively. Conversely, blue herself does quite well academically, even if she often slacks off.

She’s like many young adults; yearning for freedom and wanting her own independence, though her parents are more controlling than most, as they’re desperate to keep her in-line and pure.

Cherie Senft

Cherie is a 24-year-old woman working at a local, overpriced, rather pretentious coffee shop. She’s a ditzy social butterfly with a ridiculously high libido and a love of partying, raves, and all the chaos that comes with it. Despite being a young adult, she’s horrifically irresponsible and negligent.

All she wants in life is to be free from expectations; to cast off the expectations of her family, to forget her mistakes, and to just live without worry, no matter how unrealistic it might be.

Damien Fleury

Damien is a 35-year-old therapist who was assigned Argus as a client for court-ordered therapy. She’s a calm, well put-together woman who exudes confidence and competence with everything she does, rarely ever letting her guard down or allowing others to see her weaknesses.

After learning just how dangerous Argus has the potential to be, Damien has made it her goal to act as damage control; intercepting his plans or trying to redirect him onto less destructive ideas.

Finn Gianakis

Finn is an alternate version of Argus; a 29-year-old tutor battling against obsessive thoughts and violent desires. Outwardly, he seems perfectly normal: an intelligent, polite southern gentleman who’d drop anything to help his dear mother, and who’s charmingly quirky.

He hates the urges that arise around people he finds attractive; the illogical jealousy, the need to claim them, all of it.

Fuwafuwa

Fuwa (Phoebe) is a reclusive 26-year-old freelance digital artist who spends her days secluded in her small Alaskan apartment with her two cats (Archibald and Hjalmar). She’s highly anxious, cynical, and finds it difficult to open up to others in most situations.

Those who take the time to get past her hard, prickly shell will be rewarded by a soft, affectionate, loyal, and nurturing friend who’s always ready to go to bat for them.

Hà Liên Thi Phạm

Lien is a 26-year-old barista working alongside Cherie at a pretentious, overpriced coffee shop popular with upper-class teens and young adults. She’s the “mom friend” of any group she’s in: mature, nurturing, sometimes a little overbearing (though with good intentions).

She comes from a rough upbringing; abusive parents, a bullying brother, a runaway attempt that went horribly wrong, and spends every day of her life trying to distance herself from her old life.

Harrison Alexander

Harrison is a 27-year-old bartender at a ritzy casino who is constantly chasing the newest thrill, even if it ends up harming him. He’s charming and a smooth talker, but also a coward who is often self-centred and tends to run from the consequences of his actions.

After having grown up in rural Australia, Harrison is yearning for a bigger and better life, though his efforts are hampered by his impulsivity, self-destructiveness, and rampant alcoholism.

Locke Vanitas

Locke is a 32-year-old drug dealer whose decade long stint in prison only served to make him worse. He’s a sadistic, detached man with no regard for the lives of those around him, his episodes of pure, unadulterated rage being the only real match for his laziness.

The only people Locke seems to have any level of care for are his little sister and grandparents, though even they’ve come to fear him over time as his addictions change him into someone unrecognizeable.

Miele Alarie

Miele, aged 26, acts as sweet as his name implies. He’s ambitious, affectionate, and as overdramatic as you could expect a minor child star, former theater kid, and current-day stage actor to be in his day-to-day life. Beneath his saccharine façade lays something much more sinister.

He’s the third youngest of eight siblings, all involved with the performing arts in some way, shape, or form under the management of their former beauty-queen mother. His twin sister was once a package deal with him.

missLovelace

missLovelace (Cassandra) is a 26-year-old college student majoring in math and minoring in comp-sci who lives on-campus. She’s bubbly and exuberant, though allergic to any kind of direct conflict, often leaving her as the one trying to settle arguments as quickly as possible.

She’s very close to her parents and little sister, visiting them as often as she can.

Percy Thomas

Percival Thomas is a 23-year-old library assistant and devout Catholic who struggles to stand up for himself or say no, often leading to him carrying out everyone else’s errands and menial tasks. Soft-spoken, generous, and too forgiving for his own good.

He’s extremely close to his older sister, her husband, and their four children. Percy takes his position as their uncle very seriously.

POLLINICPANIC

POLLINICPANIC (Makara) is a 27-year-old finance officer who lives with their ailing parents and multiple siblings, working hard to support them. They’re very light-hearted and mischievous, taking any opportunity to play jokes on their friends, though they also have an unfortunate tendency of pushing their own limits and overworking themself.

Pollen spends their free time in their extensive, treasured garden, which they’ve put years of love and effort into.

starbunnies

starbunnies (Serena) is a 23-year-old photographer who primarily works from home so she can spend more time with her toddler daughter. She’s very soft-spoken and nurturing, skilled at navigating difficult topics and bringing a calming presence to most situations she’s involved with.

She often worries about being perceived as immature due to her love of romance and fantasy, and puts a lot of effort into making sure people take her seriously.

Yohan Chae

Yohan is a 26-year-old delinquent-turned-mechanic who, despite his mean looks, has a personality more akin to a golden retriever. He could, by some people’s interpretation, fit the dictionary definition of a simp towards just about every woman he meets.

Though he may seem a little empty-headed, Yohan is intensely dedicated to his passions, friends, and family (particularly his younger brother).

Ziggy Santana

Ziggy is a 28-year-old unemployed stoner who peaked in high-school and has only gone downhill from there. He spends most of his time getting high, gaming, and heading down to the rarely-used skate park by his parents’ house.

Though friendly and generally well-intentioned, Ziggy doesn’t seem to realize that it’s highly inappropriate to grope people (or more) in public, nor does he acknowledge how much his little sister, Joni, despises him for being the family failure.

#OC Intro #Oyasuminto OCs

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felidaefighter · 1 year

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Because Love Is Unforgiving

This was an Awesamponk prompt I almost made for a fic exchange a while ago, before swapping to a different one. Angst with a happy hopeful ending!

Merry Christmas @ufuckingpastry! I hope you like it!!! ;w;”

"I don't need you to forgive me," Sam says, twisting his hands together, "I wouldn't… expect you to."

Ponk sighs. How many times do they have to go through this? But his heart still yearns endlessly for Sam, even after everything. They've both hurt eachother. It's not exactly a perfect relationship.

"That's good," He decides to say, "Because I don't forgive you."

Sam winces. Sam is allowed to wince. He's allowed to want it even if he understands he can't have it-- but does that have to be the same for love? For what they had?

Ponk hesitates. He doesn't want to say it, because he doesn't want it to be true, but this isn't some world of magic where you speak things into existence. It's already true. And maybe Sam doesn't deserve to know, per se, but Ponk deserves to have to himself that aired grievance.

"But that doesn't mean…"

Ponk grits his teeth. Sam is looking at him, pleading with soft and pitiful eyes, and those are the eyes Ponk remembers. Those are the eyes that helped Ponk nurture his lemon tree time and time again, that flirted with him in bygone days, that offered to help tie his fishing line as they swapped cultures sitting together at the edge of the community house, before its foundations gained walls and it was no more than a communal dock with bedrolls and blankets. Ponk wishes Sam could keep those eyes forever.

"That doesn't mean I don't still love you," Ponk whispers. He looks down at the ground, expecting some self-absorbed comment, expecting-- expecting The Warden, he supposes, not so much Sam. Seconds go by. Ponk is still braced, waiting for something that doesn't seem to come. He un-braces as time moves on and seconds becomes a full minute, overrun with confusion.

He looks up, ready to react with anger, to snap "Well?" because that's it? Sam isn't going to say anything to that?

Ponk's breath hitches. It's an unusual sight. It's been a long time since he's seen this, a long time since Sam allowed himself to be vulnerable and a person rather than his job.

The creeper hybrid is crying, tears streaming hot down his face, matting his fur and threatening to stain the wood they're standing on with their heat. "I love you too," He says, quietly, choked-out and with the hints of stress-hiss underneath. "But I don't know if I deserve to."

"Don't-- don't cry--" Ponk really doesn't know how to handle this, frankly. "Well, you don't deserve to. You have to earn that. Do you think you can earn that, Sam?"

Sam looks pathetic, and frankly, if Ponk’s going to be blunt-- which he is, he’s been long done with pussyfooting around Sam’s bullshit-- he’s acting pathetic too. “I don’t know how,” Sam says quietly.

“You could start by taking some responsibility for your actions,” Ponk says, “Instead of pretending you’re free of consequences because you had “good intentions” or some fuckshit. Good intentions my ass! Intentions don’t matter, Sam! What you do matters. What you did matters. And what you’re going to do next matters. You can’t play pretend and act like you didn’t hurt me or anyone else in your big righteous quest. Because you did. And you have to acknowledge that.”

“But I--” Sam protests, and Ponk shuts him down immediately.

“No buts!” Ponk snaps, “You did what you did and you can’t take it back. You can only be better in the future.”

“...Okay,” Sam says quietly.

Ponk will not have a bleeding heart for the man who took so much from him, but it’s also the man he loved. The man he still loves in spite of everything. Isn’t it funny, how love can last? Like a hardy plant. Ponk wishes their lemon tree could have been hardy, instead of this love.

“And if you want to do better,” Ponk breathes, because they can’t help it, they want to see Sam do better even if things are never the same, “You have to stop being The Warden. Look at how much that job took from you! Look at how much you took from other people, being that! It’s not worth it, Sam. You don’t have anything else left to guard.”

“...Okay,” Sam says again quietly, still crying, still a person instead of The Warden. “You’re right. Ponk, you’ve always been right. I’ll try.”

And just for now, that’s enough. Trying is enough in this moment. It’s the biggest step forward Sam’s ever taken in the time Ponk has known him. It’s an effort, it’s a want to get better, it’s the acknowledgement that he was in the wrong that Sam has denied from Ponk for so long. And finally, finally, he says he’s going to try.

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Sam,” Ponk says, and for a moment they’re back to the days of sunshine and fishing, for a moment there’s love in Ponk’s voice and love in Sam’s eyes and they both understand that what Ponk means is I want you to get better, please get better.

“Thank you,” Sam replies with a hiccup, the tears finally coming to a halt, “I hope you do.”

It’s far from perfect. It’s far from over. It’s far from being the last hurt they’ll ever cause one another, the last grievance or pain or betrayal or heartbreak. But it’s the first stitch on an open wound, and maybe, just maybe, they can stitch it up piece by piece until it’s nothing but a faded scar.

#they write #awesamponk #awesamdude #ponk

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

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ღ what being loved by them feels like | bnha edition ღ

➳ incl. midoriya, bakugo, todoroki, and kirishima.

➳ tags / warnings ;; food ment, alcohol ment.

➳ wc ;; 1.9k

➳ a/n ;; should be gn i think but im tired asf so lmk

i. midoriya izuku

Slow.

It’s an unspoken promise of forever tucked under his tongue when he speaks to you. The comfort of a strong hand on your shoulder, an arm around your waist as he whispers to you some drunken secret. It’s not meant to be romantic, not exactly - when your friends ask you about it you always respond the same way.

“It’s just Midoriya,” with a passive glance somewhere else, a dismissive hand shaking away the disbelief that someone so extraordinary could love you. It is disbelief, effervescent in how it fills your stomach with that tingly feeling. Midoriya takes it slowly.

Being loved by him feels like a Sunday. Not in how it’s the mark of something but a reminder of repition, how good it feels to do something over and over again. There is so much to love about a Sunday afternoon, the comfort of knowing there is always another Sunday that comes after. That the luxury of warmth that stretches so far it is no longer a commodity.

You don’t have to worry about when the next time will be. Midoriya loves you in a such a way that next time is every time. That your happiness is not something to supplement but to nurture - with presence and patience and tender care. You wonder how someone with such reckless abandon can love so carefully, with nimble fingers that zip up the back of your dress when you ask.

Midoriya loves you with his hands. Always with gnarled flesh and scars to the bone - that brush so eagerly against your own. Sometimes, he blushes. He never gets used to your comfortable intimacy - not at first. That slow love has a habit of being embarassing. It’s friendly, supposed to be anyways. But something about the way he’s encased your hand with his, the silence the blossoms and blooms. You wonder if he’s always been so warm - you tell him as much.

He replies with a gentle voice, a wistful smile and reply - “Only for you,”

You stare at him, wide-eyed - like somehow this is some kind of confession, and he laughs. He laughs deep from his chest and the sound is too much. Midoriya has loved you so slowly, you seem not to have realized that every word from his mouth is a confession. It’s sweet, sticky like honey how it drips onto your tongue. You find yourself drinking it without thinking, without realizing how it’s the only thing you can taste when he’s next to you.

Being loved by him is a slow feeling - the kind of love that stretches comfortably over time like old jeans. He always seems to fit you just right, like he was made for you. He likes to think so, anyway.

ii. bakugo katsuki

Sober.

It’s the kind of love you’d expect to intoxicate you. Rattle inside of your lungs as it pushes against your ribs, the kind that makes you drunk off of adrenaline. There’s something about him that is fast, like the flash of an explosion. You’d believe he would love you before you could catch him in your palms. It is a cold can of coffee pressed to your cheek, a clanking knee as you sit next to each other on the concrete.

You are fallen trees, a reminder that even something with roots need someone to hold them sometimes - that is natures will to lean against each other when the world has stopped holding you up. That when you are to fall, someone will be there to listen to the sound of your melancholy. He is evidence of your sorrow, the one that keeps you steady when gravity has failed you not once, but many times.

He holds your face in his untrustworthy hands, the ones that carry the weight of his violence. Clicking his teeth as he leans your head back, wiping the corners of your mouth of crumbs with his thumb, wet with his saliva. Something off-handed leaves his lips, something like “eat carefully, dumbass,” right to the core of your humanity as you move forward.

Being loved by him is like hangover food. It’s the sated warmth in your belly, settled in your chest. Your mouth enveloping a comforting thing - leaves your body so light, you don’t ask about when the next time you’ll have it. This is enough to feed you - hold you off until your body needs to feel full again. You are never hungry. Satisfaction without sedation. A love without any misery. It is fullness that keeps you steady.

It’s when he touches you. He uses a strong hand to push your knees down from where they’re tucked, drags you to him until your weight leans on his lap. He enraptures your body like you are something to be kept safe. Keeps you and holds you there when you bristle in discomfort. His chin rests on your shoulder as he holds you to his chest.

“Why do you love about me, anyway,” you ask, mumble quietly like you are afraid he will hear you.

“Everything, dumbass,”

He means it like he only does with you. When your heart doesn’t race, doesn’t run, doesn’t flee from his love but slows, steadies and waits. He won’t let you escape from his sincerity. He keeps you in the center of his love - in the palm of his hands because you are the everything. You must face it with sobriety. A mind free of any misgivings, a heart that beats in sync with his like a soft thump. A familiar, shared rhythm.

Love that leaves you fixed in middle court, with the lights left to create halo around you. A temperate, sober love.

iii. todoroki shouto.

Heavy.

It’s not an unpleasant weight to bear. Love that is given carefully, like a mallet on hot iron - it strikes you before it becomes something. It’s love that is tangible, before it is anything else. It curves the wires around you, makes a frame of your body before it covers you with fur to keep your warmth. You are the muse for the sculptors hands. Once he has found you, his gaze is funneled towards the curve of your smile. There is nothing else for his sights to linger on, nothing else for him to see.

His stormy eyes speak languages that have been lost to the common tongue. They are the ones that whisper melodies of you - that squint and widen and shift to the sound of your beating your heart. Todoroki loves you like he is re-learning an ancient tongue - which is to say, he is trying to remember what love feels like as he has long forgotten it. With clumsiness tucked into his belt loops, anxiety looped around his shoulders - always reminded of the kind of lover he cannot be for you.

His love is heavy because he puts himself into it. It’s heavy like the spring downpour, showers you until your skin sticks to your clothes and hang and clings desperately to your frame. You give up warmth for invigoration - how your soaked bones feel so lively as love washes over them. Cleansing like a baptism and thrice as holy, Todoroki’s love is what’s like when he meshes all of himself. Not ice that freezes, nor fire that scorches but a heavy and forgiving rain.

It is an easy morning - the comfort of a chest and its lungs - soft, even breathing as world becomes quiet outside. Fingers that dance over your sides, trace little artworks down your side and on your hips - lips that kiss the crown of your head. It is the warm hello as your eyes flutter open, the way his gaze pins you to your bed and makes sure it’s the last place you want to be.

His love is heavy, so heavy that every word of love he’s ever told you, you carry. It brings you strength when he tells you

“Good morning, my love,”

“Shouto,” you will mumble, with drooping eyes. Todoroki will smile like a half-moon, taper into a full grin until you can see his joy on display. He knocks his forehead into yours with something needy on the corners of mouth. He finds himself overwhelmed, wraps his arms all around you and squeezes.

“Sho, baby - you’re heavy,” through a series of giggles. He sighs, buries his nose into your shoulder and hums some song he’s made just for you.

“Sorry,”

“Don’t be,”

iv. kirishima eijirou

Aching.

It aches like a bruise weeks after its arrivals, a dull and gentle kind of ache that doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. It’s not that Kirishima makes you ache, but that loving him is a reminder of your growing pains. To love so much it aches is to love hard enough to bruise, to crush your ribs in the pursuit of adoration. It is the way his large palms rest at the nape of your neck, smooth down your chest with a comfort of presence.

It’s the hand that holds onto yours a little too tight, the way he grips onto you like you are going to disappear. He loves like how an ache stays - refuses to go anywhere no matter how much medicine you take. Love sickness is a deadly disease that creeps up on your spine. A bruise on your tailbone that doesn’t let you rest until you remember it. There’s such thing as a pleasant - like the kind of pains that makes us grit our teeth with a smile.

It’s yearning. The kind that takes place in ritual - the kind that you see when he takes your shoes off your sore feet. It’s the kiss on your calves and the strong hands that massage the knots in your legs, the whisper of “’m sorry,” when you help from the pain. It is love that hurts until it doesn’t anymore, until you realize that it had been trying to make you feel better all along.

After all, it is a growing pain - and all growing pains must stop aching eventually. Kirishima loves you and it hurts - it is like how we fall in love, afraid of what will find us when our feet touch the ground. Love without soreness is love without relief. It is a bruising force, and unwilling strength that only someone unbreakable could harbor. A wall that will never fall, a love that will never stop pushing. We must break something before it’s to be repaired, must break it down to it’s bare essentials.

His love is commiserating. It’s the togetherness that only dawn can bring when you’ve lost sight of everything but each other. The shadows of your lashes on your cheek and how he kisses them like they are going somewhere. Sunshine that brings pleasant warmth to your skin. Love that stains your skin, makes it thrum underneath the surface and runs through all of you like blood. It’s love that bleeds just as much as it heals.

Kirisihimas love is nothing short of an aching - a longing deep in your shoulders, settled in your collarbones. The kind that can only be soothed by endurance, acceptance. How he loves the parts of you that you cannot find beautiful. He faces it all head on like a wall must.

“Eiji,” with a trembling lip, a tired hand against his chest as he cups your face. You don’t remember why you’re crying but it aches a little when he smiles, grins with sharp teeth.

“I love you, baby,” he says with a trembling lip, wet eyes “God, I love you so much,”

#bakugou x reader #midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #writing tag #deku x reader

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boizandgurlzinthehouse · 3 years

Note

Could u maybe do one with damiano where they Get into A fight and He says something very mean but it need with fluff i hope u understood. Thanks :)

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 1769

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 (𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬- 𝐨𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐡)

your day wasn't the best when you came home — your head hurt, the day was freezing cold from the moment you peeled the blanket off of yourself, and the hours in the office felt like thrice longer than usual. your boyfriend, damiano couldn't take you out at your office, since his studio was in the opposite direction than your office, but you got in late too because he couldn't find something he needed. you were a little bit nervous, but you just sushed your thoughts and tried to forget the words damiano and you said to each other.

"why can't you just leave the things in their original place? is this that hard to note?"

"be glad that i washed it out."

"be glad that i washed it out…"

damiano mimicked your voice, you hoped that the tone of his voice was only annoyed and derisive because he was tired.

thus, your mom called you in lunch just to call you about that there's no room in the house for you because your other cousins need place until the end of christmas –you couldn't stop the bitter taste in on your tongue, maybe that's why you couldn't hide the disappointment and gloom in your tone.

"but… where gonna i sleep then?"

"sweetheart, you can rent out a hotel room for a few days, don't you?"

"but mom, that's so much money!"

"did i mention that we would be so, so happy if we could meet your boyfriend? what was his name, danny?"

could your mother for only once not change the topic of the talk, if that began to change uncomfortable for her?

"it's damiano, mom."

"damiano, yes. so, is it alright for you?"

i don't have another option, and you know this too too well.

"yes. bye, mom."

you didn't wait for her "goodbye, sweetheart", slamming the red button on your phone.

and now, at the end of this ironically 'happy' and 'succesful' day, you stood in your living room, with your phone in your hand, pressing together your lips as damiano said out those words. you hoped that when you get home, you can take a long shower or run a bath while damiano sits on the edge of the tub, or even bathing with you, talking about this shitty day while you and damiano hate the world together, sharing a bottle of champagne and painting each other's nails –but he too decided to go against you.

"i think you shouldn't worry that much about that."

"what?"

"come on babe, it's just your mom. she's always dramatic, you shouldn't pull it on yourself that hard."

"no, i think you don't understand my problem, she literally said that her daughter don't have a place, a bed in the house she grew up during fuckint christmas!"

"shake it off, y/n. we're gonna figure it out."

"we're gonna figure it out, what does that mean to you, huh? christmas is approaching, day by day, the hotels are sure as hell full, even the airbnb-homes, but yeah, you're right, we have all the time in the world to figure it out!" you acted with your hand, more sarcastic than ever.

"what are saying now, that is my fault that you got a late call?"

you sighed, feeling your soul heavier than ever –the pound in your head spreaded down into your chest, giving the sour feeling of crying.

"no, i'm just telling you that you could be a little bit more helpful and understanding… it's about my family, my mom, mia madre as you used to say! how can't you understand this?"

"i am not understanding enough? how can you say this?"

don't do this, dami, don't manipulate my feelings, at least not you –don't make me more miserable, please.

"i say this because i can only talk with your about this! i trust you only with my problems, my problematic mother and my other shitty things, and now you just say that i should calm down on a problem that means bigger to me than ever?"

"well it's not my problem to have a useless mother!"

it was enough. far enough for you to snap.

"than you know what?",

grabbing your purse and coat,

"fuck you!" with that, you slammed the door and stepped out of the house. you didn't know where to go on the year's coldest day –you only knew that you don't want to stay near anybody right now. maybe renting out a hotel room wasn't a that-bad idea. or going to vic, and block damiano and your mother for the next two days.

trying to call vic, you didn't even noticed that your bump into somebody, pulling together your coat on yourself, you decided to go afoot to the next bus stop, maybe damiano runs after you, but right now you couldn't face him, after everything he said.

well, it's not my problem to have a useless mother. did he think this the whole time, the whole time when you bragged about your family? that that's only your pathetic problem? you couldn't see the screen of your phone from hé blur of your tears –they immediately broke down on your neck and cheek, then freezing in the cold wind, only leaving a chilly, uncomfortable feeling. the snow crashed through the clouds, everything were white and so, so cold, the wind blew in between your coat and sweatshirt –your teeth crashed together as you pleaded to the sky and vic to pick up that phone. your stomach grumbled,

"it's almost half ten, what do you want?"

"vic, oh my god! i'm so glad, can i ask you a little favour?"

"what the fuck, is is it you, y/n? i thought damiano called me this late, he would lose his phone and use yours, the dumbass. what's the problem?"

"can i sleep at you?"

"of cour- why?"

"please, i'll tell you everything, but…" you wailed suddenly, you were surprised too, not to mention vic.

"sweet jesus, was that you? grab a cab and come here, fast! i'm calling damiano."

"no, no please!"

vic didn't respond.

"come here safe, okay?"

"okay. bye, vic."

the line cut off, leaving you there in the winding snow –more five or six streets? you still pondered on damiano's words between tears and shivers, while trying to hug yourself as warmly as you could.

you barely reached the second corner when you heard a humming of a car. can't be a taxi, but then… who's on the streets this late, in this tempestuous weather? excluding me, you thought, could laugh but in a soaked coat, sweater and socks you only wanted to survive until vic's.

turning your aching neck, at first you thought you hallucinate –seeing damiano's black car was nearly a dream, a mirage. does hypothermia kicks in that soon?

as the car approached you, it stopped beside you.

"do you really gonna walk to vic like this? did you call a cab?"

you ignored damiano, walking towards, your bag almost slipped out of your hand.

"let me help you cara mia, i'm sorry. can we talk about this in the car? it's warm in here, too."

stubbornly, with shaking hands, you wiped off the wet locks from your face. hearing a quiet murmur, something like 'okay, that's enough', the door of the car opened, inviting you to sit on the passenger's seat. you stopped the marching, looking at damiano with crossed arms.

"i'm not going anywhere until you get in this car. you can walk to vic, but i'm gonna follow you, and i'm gonna sit in here until you collect enough peace to talk with me."

it warmed your heart a little bit, but the harsh words sung in the back of your head –reluctantly, but slowly you got in the car. damiano didn't hesitate a moment to turn on the child safety lock system as you closed the door. you huffed.

"is it really neccessary?" you asked quietly.

"i don't want you to change your mind when we get back home "he said. "do you need anything? a blanket, a coffee? a tea? i'm texting thomas to boil some water."

"thomas... how? and why?"

"he came for some butter, but you bumped into him, thomo was surprised even that you're that…" –searching for the right words, it was hard and awkward for each of you.

"listen, y/n, i–"

"no, dami, i was just upset and–"

"no, wait! it's my time to apologize. because in the past time, i got carried away. i said things and i said them without thinking about how hurtful they can be. i should be glad, so fucking gratefuo that i have a girlfriend, a lover like you, a lover who nurtures me, who search my lost things even when i can't find them because i'm such a clumsy ass, a lover who shares her deepest secrets and problems with me. a lover who trusts me so much, who accepts my little habits… i know i can't take back the things i said about your mother and your problems, but the least i can do is make you forget about it, and support you with it. can you", damiano said as he covered your cold, tender hands with his big, soft ones. "y/n y/l/n, amore della mia vita, the love of my life, accept my apology about everything i said and did?"

you couldn't stop the blushing, your whole chest warmed up at his words, clinging to his hands.

"yes, i absolutely can. i'm sorry i yelled at you, it was just a shitty day, and my family… well, that's another story."

damiano leaned closer to you, touching your jaw, tucked a cold strand of hair behind your ear, spreading comfort towards your cheeks and eyebrows.

"even with soaked clothes, pale skin and damp hair, you're still the prettiest, angelic thing i've seen in my life, mia dolce bambina."

you didn't need anything to reach up to his lips, yearning to get as much as from his warmth as possible –damiano strokes the back of your head and neck, played with the moist locks.

after the little kissing session, damiano stroked your hand, taking off your coat, giving you his instead.

"let's go home, okay?"

"okay. i love you, damiano."

"i love you more than you could ever think, little angel."

as the two of you reached home, damiano huffed.

"you know, i'm a little bit disappointed in your mother too."

you pulled up your eyebrows, the corner of your lips curling up slowly.

"really? and why?"

"we can't make out in your old bedroom, that could be quite an extra christmas event, don't you think?"

"damiano!!"

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨-𝐦å𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐢'𝐦 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 <𝟑

#damiano david x you #damiano david x reader #damiano x reader #damiano imagine #damiano david #maneskin gives me bi panic #maneskin headcanons #maneskin oneshot #maneskin imagine #maneskin #send me requests #i'm tireeeeed #damiano headcanon #damiano icons #damiano x y/n

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bambiswriting · 3 years

Text

Comforting Rex - headcanons!

Warnings: None! Just fluffy stuff!

A/N: Now that I am a so-deemed “Rexpert” by @rebeldaydreams, I thought I’d supply some Rex headcanons! These started as hug hcs but now they’re more “what would comfort and calm Rex between missions?”

I knew I needed to get my first writing on this account out the way otherwise I’d keep being scared to post and never would have 😂 A huge thank you to @rebeldaydreams for encouraging me to start this blog up and for bouncing ideas off my rambles!

Reader is a tactician for the 501st who was sent at the behest of the Jedi council. They wanted to round out Anakin's battle plans to be more consistent and less of the "I'm gonna make some sarky comments and cut some droids down" attitude. Rex and reader go on nearly every campaign together aside from when reader is on leave (not being Kaminoan property means she is legally required to take more time off field). The two develop a relationship during the clone wars, but they try to keep it on the downlow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rex is naturally a physically affectionate person, which shocked you at first. Maybe he's touch starved? He doesn't really get much physical comfort while on duty (which probably attributes for his stoic role Captaining the 501st) aside from the occasional pat on the back from Fives or high five from Ahsoka, so at ease in your quarters he can just revel in it. And actually, it's through this ease with you that he starts to naturally extend a bit more affection to his brothers, while still keeping it professional, of course.

You wouldn't call him needy by any stretch, but you can definitely tell when he's yearning for your touch. If you have a day together around the apartment but you're preoccupied by cooking or other chores, you'll get an occasional pry for love from him. He comes towards you with his arms open in question, and sighs contentedly when you step into them. He loves holding his hand against the back of your head and squishing his face into your hair. He loves just inhaling the smell of you.

Another thing you realise about Rex is how much he enjoys soft things. You bought him a bunch of civilian clothes to wear at your place when you first started dating. Mainly comfy pyjama bottoms and shirts for him to lounge around in. You know that anywhere else in the galaxy he can't just fall into relaxation and calm, so you do your best to give him that environment to come to when possible. Anything to lift the burden of war.

You have this one blanket that hangs over the back of your sofa, so similar to how he requests hugs, on the colder days he shuffles up behind you with the blanket draped around his shoulders like a bat and pulls it around you, too. He wraps his arms across your torso and nuzzles his chin into your shoulder.

If he's moving past you, he ghosts his hand along your waist. Expect a warm cheek kiss, too. If you're lost in thought and don't acknowledge the first kiss, he comes back in and peppers you with an abundance of kisses.

Rex likes being the big spoon. He takes great pride in being the one to keep you safe and protected. He often wonders if you were destined to be together through the ways of the Force due to how perfectly your bodies fit together. He loves the way you curl into his side.

But that doesn’t mean he’s not sometimes the little spoon. After particularly hard missions like Umbara he comes trudging in through the door and tries to pretend he's fine until eventually you press him to come settle. You assume the big spoon position. He lays his head in your lap and gets really relaxed when you lightly scratch and trail your fingers across his scalp. He likes pressing his ear right against your chest because it calms him hearing your heartbeat. It’s a huge anchor for him to know you’re alive.

If you hold him tight enough he’ll eventually open up, whether that be through anger - not directed at you, you’re just the person he’s channelling his feelings to - or through crying. When this happens his forehead is clenched and he’s biting his lip to remain composed until eventually a few tears spill onto you. Sometimes it stops there, other times the dam breaks and he starts weeping. You rub firm circles between his shoulder blades and press kisses to the side of his head.

Despite being grown in a test tube and having no nurturing intervention as a child, you also discover that it’s comforting to him when you make gentle shushing sounds. You suppose it’s the ‘S’ syllable, like the sea gently lulling him into peace. Sometimes swaying him helps, too.

Rex is a naturally warm person, like a human furnace. He doesn't like when you press your feet against his because anything less than his body temperature is cold to him. He gets all grumbly initially but eventually just smiles at the way you rub them back and forth against him to create friction. He enjoys having your legs tangled up with his when you have cozy mornings in bed together. It makes him feel connected to you.

Back to hair. If your hair is long enough he plays with it. He twirls it round his finger and brushes his cheek against it. He loves how soft it is. But watch out, he does it to relax when stressed so you definitely have some broken hair from the tight twisting of strands. When he eventually finds out about it, he's mortified, and apologises profusely.

He's a really light sleeper. He would have to be as a Captain, used to short pitstops of rest on campaigns and disturbed sleep if a squad of clankers happen upon his men. So if he dozes off while snuggling, make sure you're in a comfortable position, because any slight movement or sound is enough to wake him up.

#captain rex x reader #captain rex x female reader #captain rex #the clone wars #tcw fanfic #self insert #female reader #star wars #sw fanfic #headcanons #my writing #sw self insert #tcw self insert #this ended up being really long lol

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dreaminpetals · 3 years

Text

COMMISSION: norton & naib watch their s/o bleed out on the rocket chair, then comfort each other after 🧲 🔪

norton campbell ;;

Your heart dropped to your feet when you heard the chime that indicated a survivor had been knocked down. You prayed as you decoded ー Please don't be Nor, please don't be Nor ...

Hearing a laboured "Focus on decoding!" confirmed your fears. It was muffled, distant, but distinct. Norton had been chaired.

The frantic hammering of your heart in your ears overtook your senses as you sprinted towards the chair, shouting to Helena that you were going to rescue him. Your heart overpowers your brain whenever Norton is in even the slightest ounce of danger. This was one of those instances. You should have thought twice before hurrying to his aid.

You exhaled a sigh of relief when you approached his chair and noticed there was no hunter to be seen. Norton however had the opposite reaction. His expression contorted into one of pure terror when he saw you were the one rescuing him.

"Leave me! Get away from me!" His words fell to deaf ears as you dashed towards him, arms open and ready to free him from his confines.

Everything was going smoothly until you heard the words that would stay with you forever.

"Jack is behind you!"

It was a trap.

In a heartbeat, your back was slashed open and you collapsed to your hands and knees.

"Lovebirds," Jack hummed, stomping on your wounded back, earning a scream from Norton. "Now, where's that decoder..." he turned on his heel and vanished to hunt down Helena with an unmistakable bloodlust.

You weren't panicking yet. You could simply heal yourself, andー

You were out of self heals.

"The hunter is near me!" Helena wailed from across the map, sending ice straight down the spines of you and your boyfriend. The fourth survivor had been eliminated already. There was no saving you.

Norton's entire body was wracked by sobs as you lay curled in a ball on the ground, writhing around in utter agony. If it wasn't for the bar squeezing him down into the rocket chair, he would bandage you up and press endless kisses onto your bloodied skin, his own safety be damned.

He had never seen anybody bleed out before. The Prospector has always managed to heal his teammates, his only punishments being faced on rocket chairs. In Norton's eyes, you were going to die.

"It's okay," you choked out, "I'll be... be..."

"You're going to die," Norton whimpered in the highest tone you've ever heard from him. He sounded like a child with the way his raspy voice cracked.

Your eyes widened at his words. Did he think bleeding out was fatal? Oh no.

You ached to explain to him that the worst consequences were comas that lasted no longer than a week, but you were losing strength. Fast. As your throat closed up, speech became more and more difficult. It felt as if glass was piercing your windpipe, concealing the truth from your guilt stricken lover.

"'Sall my fault... fuck, I love you, okay?" He hiccuped through strained wheezes for air.

'Don't say that... I'll be okay...' you yearned to respond, but each second the invisible weight on your back grew, crushing you further.

Although your vision was spotting and blurring, you could see Norton tremble where he sat. His fingers gripped the bar holding him hostage until they bled. He was using all of his strength to attempt to free you somehow.

With one final, ragged breath, you closed your eyes and succumbed to your injuries. Norton didn't scream like you thought he would. He watched you sink into the ground in utter silence, sniffing back tears and coughing sporadically.

Despite the agony you endured mere minutes ago, you weren't rendered unconscious like previous, less fortunate survivors. You could walk, albeit with jittery legs and a weight on your back forcing you down. Having regained some strength, you noted that you could speak as well. Every bone in your body was aching for you to find Norton and save him from his unnecessary grief.

You immediately captured Helena's undivided attention when you hobbled into the manor, leaving a steady red trail behind you. She wrapped your wounds up with the first aid kit she kept on her, the smell of blood that lingered in the air faded with every careful swipe of your skin. Since you were in the room for injured survivors, Norton didn't see you when he stormed back into the manor. His physical wounds were nothing compared to his emotional ones. If only Helena finished patching you up just a minute earlier, he could have seen that you survived far earlier.

"Norton is in your room, by the way," Helena began, patting you on the back to signal that her work was done, "in the one you share. I asked where he was going."

"Our room," you repeated to yourself under your breath. You thanked Helena and promptly headed to your room, legs carrying you as fast as they could take you.

You were out of breath once you reached your shared room. A series of knocks on the door were greeted with silence. You noticed that the static sobbing from the room paused for a moment, then resumed.

Twisting your key into the door and unlocking it, you saw Norton swiftly hide your shirt underneath your pillow. Was he trying to get the last of your scent before it faded away forever?

"So. You've come to haunt me too." He spat, burning holes into your face with his unwelcoming glare. "Just like everyone else from the mines. Fuck off."

"Norton, it's me,"

"You're only pretending to be them. Second I acknowledge you're not real you'll go away."

His words shattered your heart.

Approaching him with caution, you kneeled onto the bed beside him and placed your palm on his cheek. He leaned into your touch despite his harsh words, his tear streaked face dampening your hand. "If I wasn't real, would I be this warm?" You whispered as soft as your voice could manage to be. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared into your eyes, searching for any signs of life. Your eyes were too warm and full of adoration to be a hallucination, a ghost, a memory.

"How did you...?" he began, teetering on the verge of tears again.

"I'm hurt, but... I'd never die on you, Nor. It's okay. I'm here." You pressed a nurturing kiss to his nose and felt his face heat up underneath yours. Pressing your forehead against his, he felt no malicious intent from you, unlike all the other visions he saw of his deported loved ones. He felt nothing but love and kindness from you, the same way he's always remembered you.

"It's really you," he uttered your name like a prayer, voice flickering above a whisper, before enveloping you in his arms and pulling you snug close to him. He bawled into your shoulder, letting the warmth of your body comfort him after one of the most horrifying moments of his life. You could feel his snot and hot tears bubble on your shoulder but you didn't mind in the slightest. You were home, in Norton's arms.

You knew that for Norton to cry in front of you, he was wounded deep. It was rare to see tears fall from his eyes and to feel him cling to you, terrified of letting go. Between pants, you could hear him beg for you to stay and never die on him. His pleas were answered by soft hushes and gentle kisses.

Norton pulled away for a fleeting moment to turn you around and examine your wounded back. There was a rip through your top and underneath were bandages stained with dry blood. Helena did a decent job of patching you up, though she definitely missed a few spots. Norton pressed chaste kisses to the exposed skin, his silent way of reassuring you he loved you no matter what.

"I'll kill him for doing this to you," your boyfriend hissed, teeth ghosting along your flesh. "I'll make him pay." His mouth was still connected to your back, and he could feel you shiver in response to his words.

"Nor, you don't needー"

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again. If anyone... if anyone ever does this to you a second time, I'll..."

"Norton."

Your sudden sharp tone caused him to freeze. Had he gone too far? His demeanour immediately switched and he pulled away from you, offering you a toothy grin to show he sincerely meant no harm.

You pulled your shirt back down and turned around so your calm eyes could meet his wide ones. "I'll be okay. I'm more worried about you, if anything. Come here." You patted your lap and the back of Norton's fluffy hair soon met your thighs. He laid down and began to rub the tears from his eyes, before you pushed his hands away and rubbed them into nothingness yourself.

He loved laying in your lap. Whether he was having flashbacks of past events, or if he was hurt from a match, laying his head on your soft thighs and gazing up at you with love never failed to calm him down. He felt so safe and warm.

"Have a little rest, Nor. I'll be here when you wake up." You rubbed calming circles into his hair as he nodded. His eyes closed, then opened again to ensure that you really were there and you truly were alive. You shushed him, both hands massaging his scalp until he drifted off into a comfortable sleep. He would do anything for you.

naib subedar ;;

"Naib's been containing the hunter for so long, you think we should help out?" Luca asked you as the two of you drummed away at a cipher machine together. You nodded your head in agreement, pulling yourself away from the noisy machine and overturning your empty pockets.

"I don't have any self heals, though. I'll shout if I need anything." This time it was Luca's turn to nod as he smacked the machine, steadily making progress towards your escape.

You roamed the abandoned factory for a few moments before hearing a distant yelp and the sound of someone falling to the ground. You followed the source of the sound to the factory, and the metallic clunks of Guard 26 carrying your lover to the basement made your skin crawl. This rescue was going to be tremendously difficult.

"Don't rescue me!" Naib managed to rasp as the hunter slammed him into the rocket chair. You could hear the pain in his voice even though he tried to mask it. It was always like Naib to hide his true feelings behind a cold front.

You knew Guard 26 chairing your only rescuer in the basement was a recipe for disaster, but you wanted to at least attempt to save him.

Hopping down the stairs, you were met face to face with the hunter. Their cogs whirred as they advanced towards you, and you stunned them momentarily.

"Oh, you're so stupid [Name]," Naib sighed as your fingers danced across the bar holding him captive. "Go back to where it's safe!" You ignored his cries and slid to the side, dodging one of Guard 26's strikes. The floor began to light up in an array of colours under you which you miraculously dodged, earning a gasp from your chaired lover.

Unfortunately, you weren't able to pull off the rescue of your dreams this time. You attempted to psyche out the hunter and trick them into hitting the chair, but their spiked bat met your side before you could pull away. Despite arriving without even a scratch, the impact of being hit as you rescued caused you to fall to your knees.

 Blood pooled underneath you and you gritted your teeth as you waited to be chaired, the pain overriding your senses and bringing tears to your eyes.

That relief never came.

The haunting dings of Guard 26 slowly dissipated as they hopped up the stairs to find Luca. There were several other chairs in the basement, why didn't they chair you? It must be in their wiring to save as much time as possible.

You clutched at your stomach, wincing as crimson bloomed on your shirt. Panic hadn't filled your veins yet. You applied pressure to your wound, using the same healing tactics Naib had taught you before. Your plan was to do all you could while you were downed, then call Luca for help at the last minute.

Until Luca was terrorshocked.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Naib's the second you both heard him collapse against the cipher machine. Anxiety began to set in, your movements growing more sloppy. You nicked yourself more often, and Naib noticed it too.

"Easy there... Deep breaths, all right?" He cooed, wriggling to free himself from the grip of the rocket chair. His struggles were unsuccessful, though. No matter how hard he tried to escape for you, the chair wasn't merciful whatsoever.

You felt your body grow numb as you lost more blood. You could no longer feel the cold tiles of the basement. To you, everything was cold. You scooched closer to the chair Naib was trapped in and extended a hand. "Naib, I... I can't feel my legs," although his movements were limited, he was able to wrap his hand around yours and squeeze it tight.

"You're gonna be fine." He was lying through his teeth. Naib could see the glassy look in your eyes, hell, as your hand quivered in his, he could feel the life draining from it. Your voice wasn't a comfort to him anymore, every word you spoke was full of agony and he wished you would stay quiet as to not worry him more.

Naib has seen this before. He's been pinned under debris, forced to watch a comrade succumb to their injuries. It's why he's the man he is today. Always self-sacrificing, never leaving anyone behind. Yet he couldn't extend the same behaviour to you... his lover was bleeding out in front of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do. He tried so desperately to hide the fear from his face, but a single tear slid down his cheek and his expression sunk when he felt you begin to fade away. As you melted into the ground, Naib cried out your name until there was nothing left of you to hold. Then he followed.

You were awoken by the sound someone scurrying towards you. Rubbing your eyes, you saw a flash of colour before an excited hand met your shoulder. "You're finally up. Can you walk?" It took a few moments to process Naib's words. As you scanned the room around you, you spotted bouquets of flowers and numerous get well soon cards.

"What... what happened to me?" You groggily asked as you gazed at your hands. They had been bandaged up with care.

Naib swallowed hard as he replied, "you've been out for around a day. I've been looking after you... hope you don't mind." As your vision adjusted to the bright lights of your room, you noticed his shirt had been discarded and his chest was wrapped tightly in bandages. Both of you were left bruised and battered from that hellish match, it seems.

Your heart soared as you thought about how much Naib must adore you to watch over you like that. Though he acted coolly as if his actions were no big deal, you could sense that he was still worried about you. He touched you as if you were made of glass and his usual scratchy voice was replaced by a soft, considerate one ー an attempt to ease your anxieties and make you more comfortable.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up," his hand connected to yours and eased your weight onto the floor below you. You stumbled over your feet, but quickly met Naib's chest as his arms wrapped around your back. "Easy there, I've got you." He let you lean on him for support and helped you peel off your bloodied shirt before drawing a bath for you.

Naib kneeled beside the bubblebath you rested in, scrubbing your hair with his calloused fingers. It tickled ever so slightly, you couldn't remember the last time somebody had handled you with such care. His hands maneuvered around your body with precision and care as he washed away all of the dirt and dust that marred your skin.

A comfortable silence hung in the air until you decided to speak up, "what about you? Do you want me to wash you as well?"

Naib's expression softened when he heard your voice. "Iー uh, I'm good." His blunt response didn't match his gaze in the slightest.

"I can see you wince every time you lift your arms. And you smell."

"...Fine." He huffed in defeat, beckoning you to scootch forward to make room for him in the tub. You felt the water splash as he took a seat behind you and pulled you into his arms. "Hey. What you did yesterday... don't do it again, okay? I don't want you getting hurt ever again."

You turned over your shoulder to face him and he offered you a faint smile. It wasn't like his usual smug grins, it was more tender, something he couldn't get rid of upon seeing you awake again.

You could keep your head in Naib's warm chest forever, his steady heartbeat and the occasional ripples of water filling your ears. You were on the verge of falling asleep when you remembered that Naib needed to be scrubbed too.

Lifting his arms up above your head, you escaped his gentle grasp and turned around to face him. His expression was one of grumpiness after you slithered free from his arms, but the second you grabbed a loofah and massaged his skin his gaze molded into a loving one. His cuts had faded and closed up but they were definitely visible, and they looked like they hurt. A lot.

"I'm sorry for being so reckless, I just wanted you to get out safe." You whispered between fond swipes of his chest, really getting the soap in there.

He rested his arms on the edges of the tub, huffing in response. "When I tell you not to rescue, don't rescue, okay? Your safety's more important than mine." You attempted to object to his brash statement, but he shut you up with a kiss and stole the breath from your lips. Your lips remained connected for a few lingering seconds, and Naib deepened the kiss right as you expected him to pull away.

"...I thought I was going to lose you," he muttered against your skin, pulling away and pressing another, sweeter kiss to the corner of your lips. "Water's getting cold... let's get out," he drained the tub and scooped you up into his arms, bringing you to your bed and wrapping you up in a bathrobe. You were perfectly capable of dressing yourself, but Naib's must-take-care-of-lover instincts refused to let you do that.

He snuggled up to you from behind, nose breathing in the fresh scent of your hair. "Goodnight, love." And you dozed off in his arms, ever protective of you.

#norton campbell x reader #norton campbell #naib subedar #naib subedar x reader #idv x reader #identity v imagines

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ncitygirls · 3 years

Text

mine (yours pt 2) - jaemin x f reader

fluff, angst?, suggestive, f2l, yours pt 1

a stifling dread has been following you all week long. it’s hard to describe. it feels a lot like drowning: a hot thick uncertainty flooding your lungs, tightening your chest. it’s hard because not once have you ever dreaded seeing jaemin, your- well, that’s the thing. what is jaemin?

he’s your friend, that much you know. from as early as you can remember, jaemin’s light has painted every one of your best memories. he has long been one third of your perfect trio. his calmer, more nurturing demeanour a perfect match to your tough exterior and mark’s more naive disposition. his kind eyes and warm smile stain every dream you’ve had, brightened every dark fear and warmed every cold word. jaemin’s presence alone has remedied every single ache and pain. jaemin is your friend.

but he is also your best friend. so you doubt what you’re feeling is dread but rather that same uncertainty, a fear of the unknown. mark keeps assuring you that this feeling is normal, says it’s part and parcel with trying to navigate this new terrain you’re both entering. that anyone would feel what you’re feeling, that it isn’t unique to you. yet you asked what jaemin had felt, he had said nothing. he shut his smiling lips with a pop. one full of shame and insurmountable pity. because jaemin was nothing if not sure. he was nothing if not certain. jaemin know what he was. which brings you to what you’re not yet ready to call jaemin, what mark has already taken to calling jaemin, and what jaemin has taken to calling himself-

“hey,” your boyfriend sings from his spot where he stands tall at your front door step, his hands clasped behind his back. the pose doesn’t last long, his arm extending forward to reveal a slim bouquet, lilacs dotted between pink camellias. he slips them into your hand as you gaze up at him, your eyes squinting suspiciously. “what?”

“nothing.” you lower your head, in part to inhale their samey scent, but in larger part to hide the smile he already knows you’re wearing. you step aside as he steps forward, making way for him to enter, but he doesn’t. “changed your mind? you not coming in?” you laugh, waving your free hand into your hallway, but he doesn’t budge, a soft smirk stealing his lips. “what?”

“nothing,” he sings, grinning as he mocks you. you glare playfully as he raises his hand, his fingers gently pinching your chin before he leans in. he closes his lips around yours ever so slightly, pressing ever so softly. he huffs as you kiss back, your fingers loosening around the small arrangement. when he pulls away, you whine before shying away from his glowing face. “can i come in?”

“i just said to-”

“i just said to,” jaemin, who has pushed past you, ducks out the way of your flying fist, as he mocks you once again. you shut the door with your hip before following him to the living room. he’s already made himself at home in the small space, his sneakers slipped off by the hallway rug, his jacket hanging off the back of your desk chair. you move to pass him on the couch, only to fall backwards, your back meeting his chest as he tugs you into his lap. “where you running off to?” he asks, holding you firmly in place. “i missed you.”

“to the kitchen,” gulping quickly, you pray the small swallow would somehow soothe your beating heart. you let your head fall to his shoulder, leaning further into him as his fingers glide along your sides. “and how can you miss me, we hung out yesterday,” you sigh, relaxing into the press of his lips to your temple.

“mhm,” he’s removing your apron, eliminating any and all things that might aid in your departure. “i know that, i was there,” you feel his smirk on your skin, paired with a squeeze to your hips. “i could have seen you an hour ago and still miss you now.”

“simp.” the insult falls easily from your lips, though you curse yourself a bit for it. for with it comes the long, drawn out laughter you think has you falling further and further in love with na jaemin. your best friend. your boyfriend.

it all started at mark’s wedding. or so you had thought. for you it had been watching jaemin charm the older members of your family, or entice the younger ones, even aggravate a few in between. there was something about that night that made you see jaemin as more than what he was. whether it be your friend, ready to spin you every which way on the dance floor just to keep you company. or your best friend, ready to do the same, just to keep you from bludgeoning your family to death. or maybe more, ready to do the same, just to make you happy. jaemin was prepared to do any and everything it took to make you feel even an ounce of how you did him. to burn your skin by touch alone, arouse your senses, bring you to the brink of all feeling and emotion, make you fall. for you, this all started then. for jaemin? the start had been gradual, yet all at once.

it was a slow ascent of feelings that never once plateaued. feelings that only grew and grew, that just kept intensifying beyond what one would ever think possible. how can anybody love someone this much? to the point days turned to weeks in their absence, sweetest dreams incomparable to moments spent in their company, their heart swelling till it bulged out the gaps between their ribs. how can jaemin love you so much words quickly lost value, to the point even actions aren’t enough? jaemin can spend hours pouring every emotion he could verbalise into you, before pounding the very same emotions into you. with soft spoken gasps, with languid rolls of his hips. jaemin utilised everything he could to show you he loved you. and yet still, nothing was enough to show you he was yours.

he sees your fears in how you quickly run from his safe embrace, schooling yourself as quickly as you’d let yourself slip. his fingers had finally laid waste to your apron, his nails dragging slowly over your andomen. he hugged as you gasped, your hips pressing into his lap, his lips puckering over the the soft skin of your neck, sucking ever so slightly. “jaem,” you whine, fingers gripping tighter on his thighs, nails curving into his skin through the rips. he just grunts in your ear, one hand grinding you further into his crotch, the other snaking up your blouse to your erect nipple. something about it snaps you back to reality. his hands on you, milking pleasure from you as easily as he’d done at the wedding. “the food.” you rush, pushing yourself off his lap and heading straight for your kitchenette.

jaemin just watches you go, panting as you disappear behind the adjacent pillar, leaving him all flustered. if he’d been a betting man, he’d have just made a fortune. jaemin foresaw your departure before he’d ever pulled you in, his heart yearning to hold you firm between his palms. but he just has to laugh, watching you flit back and forth over the counter tops. he prides himself in knowing you so well, knowing your tells, your habits, your peeves. jaemin knows this is a lot for you, it always kind of has been. it took getting used to, all his attention, but now his sudden overt affection was proving laborious. you reject it firmly in public, but let him have his way in private. or so he thought. because since mark’s wedding, you’ve not let jaemin get further than some light petting and humping. which he can’t fault you for. you’d wanted things to go slow, and he’d give it to you. jaemin would give you anything you wanted if it means one day being yours.

but how long did you expect him to ignore the red raw love he has brewing more and more for you each waking hour? because another second without you feels like an hour, and jaemin is starving.

“here you go-” you place a bowl of plain rice before him, grinning as he squeezes your wrist in thanks. “let me get the chilli.”

“okay,” he breathes, relinquishing you with a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist. it’s then jaemin sees nothing of his minor affection has changed, if anything you seem to cling to it, prefer it even. “it smells delicious.”

“thank you,” you sing, serving him two heaped spoon fulls before running for cheese and wine. “i made it special.” he points towards himself, a silent ‘for me?’ in his gaze. “mhm.” jaemin sprints through the meal without a word, his palm laid gently over the skin of your knee as he wolfed down the entire bowl. “damn, don’t choke, jaem.”

“you know i have to finish my food hot.” he laughs, waiting patiently for you to finish before he pushes your shoulder back down when you rise to clear the table. “i’ve got it,” he mumbles against the skin of your cheek, dragging his lip to the shell of your ear. “more wine?”

words escape you when he’s so close, your head bobbing as you hand your glass to him, squeezing his arm. it’s a lot to get used to. a version of jaemin you’s never imagined seeing, a level of affection you hadn’t ever prepared for. it’s overwhelming in the best ways. he has this hypnotic allure. it drenches every word he speaks, every move he makes. his every action warrants an overthought reaction. a kiss to your palm, something you once ignore, even laughed at is now stored in the depths of your heart, stowed away from times in his absence, then jaemin was busy, when his time wasn’t yours. jaemin’s seemingly sudden confession has pushes you so far toward the brink of madness, you wonder whether this has been his plan all along.

especially as you sit perched on his lap, straddled over his thick thighs. he listens carefully as you recount your day, his eyes flickering over the short hairs of your lash, probably counting, taking in the various flecks in your eyes. “and then i had to put her in timeout.”

“no,” he gasps, the perfect amount of shock in his tone. “lina? but she’s your favourite.”

“not anymore,” you grumble, eyes dropped to where your fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “she didn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”

“really?” as in love with you as he is, as he has always been, jaemin does sometime wonder how it got so bad. because if it was anyone else, he’d be hysterical, tears pouring and he laughed off the worry they put into a classroom argument between two four year olds. but it’s not just anyone. it’s you. your classroom. your four year olds. so, instead of laughing, he let’s himself sigh, his eyes locked on the small tremor in your pouted lip. because it’s not just anyone’s problem, it’s yours. and if it’s yours, then it’s his. so he moves your hand from his shirt, wraps his hands around your closed fists and pulls them up around his neck. he hates himself for enjoying your skin on his. he can’t even cringe as your wet cheek meets his neck, your sniffles more his concern. “it’ll be okay.”

“no, it won’t,” you cry, arms winding around his neck as you breathe in his scent. “she’s a really smart girl, she won’t forget. she’ll never forgive me.”

“yes, she will,” he hums, his hands gliding up and down your back. “kids change like the weather,” he reminds, enjoying how you feel pressed to his chest. “and you’re her favourite too.”

“probably not anymore.”

“well you’re mine,” he admits. well, it’s hard to admit something everyone knows. it’s also hard to ignore the feeling it incites, his words like a warm repellant forcing your body up straight. he grins when you glare at him, your tear stained cheeks drawing his thumbs to your cheek. he only speaks as he drugs the same thumb over your still pouting lip. “what?”

“you’re enjoying this.”

“a little,” he pulls you back to his chest, rocking you side to side. “it’s hard to get you like this anymore.” he slows when you stiffen, your head craning up to meet his blank stare. he sees the question in your eyes, a soft glare he’s seen before but the meaning entirely changed. “it’s just been a while since we’ve been like this.”

“well, that’s your fault,” you breathe, only seeing your mistake as he straightens. it’s never easy hiding from jaemin, because he never makes it easy. before you can avoid his gaze, it’s piercing you. his fingers clasp behind your neck, his thumbs slid under your jaw, anchoring you with his gaze.

“what’s my fault?” he asks, an unsettling peace coating his words, a soft click sounding under his tongue. “what’s my fault, y/n?”

“this! the fact we aren’t the same anymore.”

“what changed?”

“you-” it sticks in your throat as he gazes down at you, watching the realisation his you in an oddly comedic fashion. jaemin hadn’t changed. nothing about him had changed. jaemin gave you all of him, yes, but he always had. jaemin gave you every bit of himself you just didn’t know you had. he was always yours. so what had changed? “me,” you breathe, watching him soften as your eyes gleam up at him. “i-i’ve changed. haven’t i?”

he shrugs softly, his smile even softer. “a bit.”

“a bit?” you cry, eyes wide as he grins dumbly at you. “oh my god, jaem. it’s me.”

“no it isn’t-”

“no, it is! it’s me!” he holds you tighter when you try retreat, your body repelling his affection, feeling so undeserving. “jaem it’s me, i just-i just miss you so much, all the time. and-and i don’t know why. and it’s not like you’ve gone anywhere. you’re here. but you’re not you anymore, and i’m not me. we’re this, we-we’re different now. and-and i don’t know what it means for us. i don’t get what we are.”

“we’re whatever we want to be,” he laughs when you scoff. “what’s wrong with that?”

“you make it sound so easy.”

“it could be,” he shrugs, pressing his forehead to yours as he keeps cradling your warm face in his cool hands. “tell me what you want.”

“i want you.” he swells with pride at your firmness, the words warming him before you add, “i want us. i want us to be how we always were. i want my best friend jaemin,” you watch him nod, the light leaving his eyes before you add again, “but that’s because you’re mine. i mean, you were always mine right? i guess i’m just trying to figure out what that all means.”

“it means,” he mumbles against your forehead, smoothing the skin with a kiss. “we’re exactly the same. i’m still jaemin. you’re still y/n,” he assures you, watching the crease in your brow melt away as he rubs along your jaw. “it’s just, instead of being jaemin and y/n, we’re jaemin and y/n.”

“right,” you nod, barely following, but you nod all the same. “but that’s how we always were.”

“exactly. so there’s nothing to be scared of.”

“i guess,” you agree, sighing softly as he kisses your forehead, “except now i’m yours too.”

“yeah?” he breathes, eyes shining “you’re mine?”

“mhm,” you affirm, shying away from his watery gaze. “i think that’s what’s changed. it’s kind of a lot of pressure.”

“if it helps,” he whispers, lips dragging to the skin beneath your ear. “i’m not taking anyone else for the role. ever.”

“you sure?” his lips pucker at the skin there, sucking softly when you sigh.

“i’m sure.” well, not exactly. he’s yours.

#what even is this #anybody else wanna be jaemin’s? get in line #na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin smut #jaemin angst #nct angst #nct smut #nct fluff #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct au #nct jaemin #ncitygirls

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years

Text

Story

@rynne

All the fluff I can throw at you, enjoy <3

“Shall I tell you a story?” Wei Wuxian asks, running a comb gently through Lan Zhan’s hair. The Jingshi is quiet save for the sound of his voice. His husband is relaxed, his head tilted back a little and pressing against Wei Wuxian’s hands in a silent demand.

“Mn.”

He smiles and combs, making sure the long locks resting on his palm are glossy and straight, fragrant with the scent of sandalwood. He sets a combed section aside and picks up another, his mind drifting, “There was a Prince, once.” Wei Wuxian begins fondly, “He lived in a remote mountain kingdom, far removed from any ordinary village or town. Though he was rarely seen, tales of his beauty spread far and wide. They said he was like white jade; perfect, serene, unstained by the wretchedness of this world.”

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian chuckles at the unimpressed tone. Unable to help himself, he leans forward a bit and cups Lan Zhan’s face to kiss his cheek gently. The scent of sandalwood penetrates his senses and Wei Wuxian feels momentarily hazy. Golden eyes peer back at him, soft and warm in the candlelight. He is lost; still helpless against the power of that gaze.

Lan Zhan pulls him closer and he doesn’t resist, letting his husband steal a few light, lingering kisses. “Story,” Wei Wuxian whispers, pulling away a little. Lan Zhan flashes him a look but lets him go and returns to his previous position.

“So, one day a group of young boys is invited by the Emperor to visit the palace. Strong and righteous lads from prominent families arrive shortly after.” Golden eyes flash at him, already knowing where this story is heading. Wei Wuxian just grins back and continues in a playful tone, “Among them is a particularly lively boy; bold and mischievous as they come. This boy is quite handsome too,” Wei Wuxian says loftily and Lan Zhan huffs, “For he too possesses fair features quite like jade. Some would say he was quite equal to the Prince!”

Lan Zhan leans back a little, pressing against Wei Wuxian’s legs, “The Prince would agree.”

Wei Wuxian bites back his smile and shakes his finger at Lan Zhan, “Uh uh- no interruptions please!”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian cheerfully switches to a different section of Lan Zhan’s hair and continues, “One night, under the light of the full moon, the handsome boy happens to meet the beautiful Prince. For a moment, he’s startled!” Wei Wuxian gasps, pressing a hand against his chest, “For the Prince had caught him by surprise.”

“Hm, unkind of him.”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan,” He protests, “Don’t ruin the mood! The Prince isn’t unkind! Far from it!”

Lan Zhan says nothing so he continues, “So, our handsome boy is quite startled. But soon the surprise gives way to interest. For this Prince is indeed beautiful - clad in pure white robes, blessed with fair skin and jet black hair. He looks like some deity descended from the heavens under the full moon’s light. The boy is almost overcome,” His voice drops low, “His heart races even as he smiles and teases for he has never seen something so otherworldly.”

Lan Zhan’s ears are red.

“But the handsome boy is young so he mistakes the agitation of his heart for something else. He teases, prods, and bothers the Prince for weeks to come. He wishes for friendship, feels a sort of compassion for the Prince who never seems to smile.” He presses his own smile to Lan Zhan’s head briefly, “He wants to ease the stiffness of the Prince’s shoulders and make him laugh. For you see, the handsome boy considers laughter an expression of happiness. If one does not laugh, can one be happy? The Prince doesn’t laugh or even smile, can he be happy?”

Wei Wuxian collects Lan Zhan’s hair and places it over his shoulder before leaning forward. He rests his head on Lan Zhan’s nape, feeling his lips curling into a smile. Lan Zhan is still, barely breathing. It is thrilling to see how much he affects Lan Zhan sometimes. His husband is still the stoic man he has always been, but he lets his guard down in the privacy of their home and shows what he feels.

“So the handsome boy teases and prods some more,” His fingers dance over Lan Zhan’s shoulders and his husband hums in amusement, “His mind is like the wind and the sky, Lan Zhan. It is always in motion, jumping from this to that, fluttering from one thought to another. But his heart, Lan Zhan,” He says softly, kissing the pale skin under his lips, “But his heart is like the earth; steady, unshakable, stubborn. Unknown to him, love has been carving fissures and raising mountains on the fertile landscape of his soul.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan’s voice is a near shattered whisper. They have been married for nearly a year but their love - it still feels like an overwhelming cosmic force that they don’t have any power to deny.

Wei Wuxian swallows, his eyes fluttering close, “His heart is steady. It bears scars and it remembers better than his mind does. So this fertile earth quietly nurtures his new affection and his agile mind continues to be distracted by worldly matters. Life, it seems, has no patience for the love of a simple boy. There is no time for the handsome youth to ponder over the changes occurring in his soul.” Wei Wuxian shakes his head with a rueful smile.

“But strangely, the Prince is always on the youth’s mind. His name often falls from the boy’s lips. Something in him yearns but he doesn’t recognize it. How foolish of him!”

“Not foolish,” Lan Zhan denies immediately, “Never foolish.”

Wei Wuxian kisses him in gratitude, amused by his stern and quick defense, “The Prince remains dignified and composed, and the handsome youth can’t help but bother him. Their youthful banter is full of prickly words, but how could they have known the potential of their love so young? The handsome boy definitely didn’t understand it! All he knew was that when the Prince’s eyes were on him, he felt a strange sort of thrill. Aiya, how silly he was! Dancing around the Prince like a wild bird trying to enthrall a mate!”

“Wei Ying!” Wei Wuxian laughs at his husband’s tone and wraps his arms around him, snuggling close.

“Lan Zhan! How come you’re so flustered by ordinary words? You torment your poor husband in bed with such a straight face!” Lan Zhan’s fingers curl around his forearms and he leans back into Wei Wuxian’s chest, “So our handsome little bird continues to live without knowing his heart and the Prince continues to live in his beautiful mountain kingdom.” He pauses, turning his head slightly to press his lips against Lan Zhan’s temple, “Tragedy rips the handsome youth away from his Prince,” Lan Zhan takes a hold of his hand and presses a desperate kiss to his palm, “Fate becomes a cruel mistress. Unknowingly, the handsome youth hurts his precious Prince, causes him great harm.”

Lan Zhan makes a small noise of protest but doesn’t interrupt.

“They remain separate for many years and suddenly the handsome youth hears a voice. He is awoken from a deep, dark sleep and drawn unwillingly to the light.”

“Not unwillingly,” Lan Zhan protests, his grip tightening, “He had too much waiting for him in the daylight to remain asleep.”

“Just so,” Wei Wuxian agrees quickly, peppering a few kisses along Lan Zhan’s cheek, “Far too much! He sees his Prince again and would you believe it, Lan Zhan? The man has grown in beauty! The audacity! The Prince is even more majestic, with broader shoulders and more elegant air. The youth’s poor heart trembles with unknown emotion at first sight! He is nearly overcome.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan reprimands with a huff.

“The youth only remembers the Prince he had once known. But the man before him has grown. He isn’t as easy to tease and fluster, much to the youth’s dismay! But for all he has changed, the core of him, the very heart of him remains the same.” He feels an unknown emotion well up in his chest, “The Prince is admired by all, considered noble and just by even the poorest peasant. While the Prince’s peers remain on their mighty thrones, he chooses to leave the comforts of his palace and roam the lands. He helps people with his whole heart, expecting nothing in return.”

Wei Wuxian moves around Lan Zhan and settles on his husband’s lap, cupping that beautiful jade face with a besotted smile, “And the poor youth is so overwhelmed, Lan Zhan. He has lived through many strange, difficult, and wondrous times, but nothing compares to the feeling blooming within his chest. The Prince is cruel indeed! So willing to protect, to stand against the world, to offer shelter and affection. It gives the youth hope-” He presses two quick kisses on faintly smiling lips and continues, “Oh, the torment he suffers! To have the beautiful jade Prince so close and yet so far. How many nights he sleeps thinking, ‘oh how wonderful it would be to belong to the Prince.’”

Lan Zhan pulls him closer, dipping his head to nuzzle his jaw, “The youth belongs,” He says and Wei Wuxian’s eyes flutter close, feeling the brush of Lan Zhan’s lips against his neck, “He has always belonged with the Prince.”

“Does he now?” Wei Wuxian asks with a knowing smile.

“Mn.”

He laughs wryly, “The world continues to be cruel and no one has patience for the youth’s love,” Wei Wuxian presses close, soaking in Lan Zhan’s warmth, “But the world has taken enough from the youth and his Prince. It has no power over them anymore.”

“No,” Lan Zhan agrees, turning their bodies to press him against the floor, golden eyes gleaming with a familiar light, “Not anymore.”

“The Prince has loved the youth for a long time, Lan Zhan,” He whispers, “But the youth has loved the Prince for a long time as well.” He smiles and nuzzles his husband’s neck, “The Prince is one for deep ponderous thoughts, the youth is a flighty creature! It’s little wonder that the Prince knew his heart before the youth kne- ooph!” He chuckles helplessly against Lan Zhan’s lips before his husband grabs his hair and kisses him properly.

“Isn’t interrupting someone against the rules,” Wei Wuxian pants after a while, his lips sore and body warm. He grins up at his husband cheekily, “How rude!”

“You talk far too much,” Lan Zhan says bluntly in reply, dipping his head to nibble at Wei Wuxian’s jawline, “Be quiet.”

“Aiya! I am telling you such a romantic story and you insist on being a brute! Don’t you want to know how the story ends?”

“It doesn’t end,” Lan Zhan says and Wei Wuxian looks at him in surprise, “There is no end.”

“Lan Zhan...?”

“The Prince doesn’t smile or laugh,” Lan Zhan says softly and Wei Wuxian feels his heart race at the expression on his face; so intensely loving and so painfully peaceful. Wei Wuxian can barely find words to describe Lan Zhan’s beauty at that moment, “It is not because he’s unhappy.”

“No?” Wei Wuxian combs his fingers through Lan Zhan’s hair, tucking a falling strand behind his ear, “Not unhappy?”

“There’s a precious face,” Lan Zhan speaks gently into the air between them. Wei Wuxian swallows as his husband cups his cheek, a thumb caressing his lips, “Always smiling and laughing up at the Prince.” Wei Wuxian feels his lips tug up at the corners in response, “As long as the Prince is allowed to protect this smile, he’ll never be unhappy.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Aiya,” Wei Wuxian breathes, charmed into submission. He pulls his husband closer and lets him taste that smile he so loves, “That’s all this Wei Ying wants,” He melts under the weight of Lan Zhan’s body, “For his Lan Zhan to never be unhappy.”

#wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #fluff #post canon

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wedreamedlove · 3 years

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Mo Yi in Love - Character Study

I just read Mo Yi's [SSR Brewing Thoughts] card and, not only am I an emotional mess, but I also hit an epiphany regarding understanding his character and now I have to write about this. I know I'm going to repeat this at the end, but understand that Mo Yi is just a man who wants his first love to be his last love and who has relatable fears over failure, haha.

SPOILERS go up to chapter 3 of Mo Yi's personal route, [SSR Brewing Thoughts], [SR Fake Tears], [SSR Dangerous Invitation], and reveal Mo Yi's family background. In addition, while the lines are in order, I chose to remove some descriptions to keep things shorter.

First, I want to talk about Mo Yi's view towards love.

It's really positive, which is ironic given his background and what he grew up around. However, he's always been a rational person and the object or feeling itself has no crime, it's what people choose to do with it that matters.

[Personal Route Ch.1]

MY: True love brings light and hope to life and makes a person better and better.

MY: At any time, you could meet with that person who would make you a better person, but you may not be aware of it at the time.

[Personal Route Ch.3]

MY: Alright, quiet... What everyone here has said is all "love".

MY: Love itself is a concept that cannot be clearly defined because, for every person, their feelings and preferences are different.

MY: So, this student here, I apologize sincerely but I may not be able to give you an accurate answer.

Student: Professor, what do you feel is love then?

MY: Me...?

Mo Yi faintly smiled.

His eyes passed through the sea of people and met mine.

MY: To me, it is a unique miracle.

MY: She makes me unable to control wanting to investigate, to touch, and to figure out everything.

MY: There are even times where, for a short moment, I am unable to distinguish the divide between reason and emotion.

MY: In this world, there are too many people who are fair on the outside but foul on the inside, however there will always be that one person...

MY: She will make you become better, make you believe everything is wonderful, make you start to look forward... to the future.

Look, he's an utter romantic! But, like I mentioned above, he's also a rational person and he needs to make sure that this love is The One for him.

Second, what's important to mention here is his view on Love At First Sight because that's what he admits to himself that he has for his heroine.

However, he has a huge scar about Love At First Sight because of the tragedy that was his parents. His father, a nobleman, and his mother, a foreign woman from a background of scholars, fell in love with each other at first sight. However, due to his father's poor handling of the church in his country, which basically denied their relationship unless Mo Yi's mother converted to their religion, Mo Yi's mother left his father and his father lost the love of his life and has been regretting it to this day.

So, what does he think about Love At First Sight?

[Personal Route Ch.2]

MY: ...Personally, I believe in "love at first sight".

Student: Really? I thought someone rational and calm like you wouldn't believe in this sort of illusion.

MY: "Love at first sight" has uncertain factors, but that doesn't mean its existence itself is a mistake.

MY: Furthermore, isn't it human nature to harbor hope for this wonderful and sincere emotion? I am no exception.

MY: Only...

Mo Yi paused slightly and, when he opened his mouth again, there seemed to be some unclear emotion in his tone.

MY: When "love at first sight" arrives, I am more inclined to make a particular judgment first rather than walk eagerly towards love.

MY: Those wonderful things that are unforgettable for people, are they for real or are they "ephemeral"? This is more important, is it not?

Student: Oh, can this sort of thing be tested? Professor, can you teach me?

MY: It's not a peculiar method, you just need to make observations.

Student: Observations?

MY: Correct, observe the other party's attitude and thoughts when facing matters, especially the things that really threaten their lives or safety.

MY: To a certain extent, a person's behavior can reflect their personality.

As a top psychiatrist, Mo Yi is extremely honest to himself with his own emotions and thoughts. Heck, that's why he always records voiced diary logs because he uses those to examine his own mental state. So, this determination on whether or not the target of his Love At First Sight is The One means a lot to him, because he will throw himself fully into this love.

One huge thing about Mo Yi is that he chases perfection and has an aversion to imperfect things. This stems from his deathly fear of failure because he doesn't believe there is a "next time" after failure. Once something fails, that's the end. This is due to his parents again and how, while it takes time to nurture emotions, it only takes an instant to lose emotions or trust.

Third, because of the above, it is incredibly important for Mo Yi minimize as much "risks" as possible.

The translations below are going to be paired together for consistency, but they will be addressing two points at the same time. One, that Mo Yi may exaggerate the emotions he reveals, but they are genuine. Two, that he is showing his "imperfect" and "ugly" sides to his heroine in controlled settings because he doesn't want her to hate him.

(On a minor note, I think it should be kept in mind that he's also observing her through all of this to determine whether or not she's The One, but honestly she just keeps surprising him throughout the game and making him fall harder and harder for her).

[SR Fake Tears]

In those gold eyes of his, the usual gentle smile was replaced by another emotion.

MC: Dr. M-Mo...?

That expression... was not sadness and was not relief, but...

A kind of inevitable self-confidence, the satisfaction of seeing through everything, or... an unfathomable control.

That glance... was it my misconception?

In the flickering light, that expression was gone in a flash. I was incapable of determining it, but instinctively a hint of a chill rose from the bottom of my heart...

MY: Did I scare you?

MY: I just... don't want to hide myself in front of you. I just want to be honest about my weakness in front of you alone.

MY: You won't hate me, right?

Before I could answer, he smiled softly.

MY: Let me indulge myself this once, alright?

MY: Just for this short while...

[SR Fake Tears]

Mo Yi sat at his desk and turned on his digital voice recorder.

The time on the recorder slowly moved forward, but Mo Yi only watched that changing number without saying a word.

After a long time, a soft sigh came from the quiet room.

MY: I shouldn't have done that...

MY: Just for a moment of warmth, I deliberately showed her that appearance, even exaggerating my sadness and weakness...

MY: I even fully enjoyed indulging myself... I sought even more from her, hoping she would... feel even more sorry for me.

MY: But, at that time, I really didn't want to use reason to control my emotions.

MY: This is the first time I've been so... contradictory, chaotic...

His voice became lighter and lighter.

MY: The yearning I have for her... is already... an addiction I cannot give up...

[SSR Brewing Thoughts]

MY: Saying you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight was only an excuse, wasn't it? You were afraid I would have a sleepless night because I would think about past matters.

MC: Dr. Mo, you—

MY: I'm really happy.

MY: I won't be sad because of those things, but I truly am really happy.

His fingertips gently caressed my wrist.

MY: A child who has tasted candy would have a hard time enduring the loss. Can I be insatiable and rely on you more?

MY: Or is it that people who are too strong, who don't feel sad, have no way of receiving concern?

MY: Are you... going to leave and ignore me?

There was a hint of pretend grievance in his voice, and also a deep belief and certainty that I couldn't refuse him.

MC: (Too unfair! There's no way to refuse...)

Before I could answer, Mo Yi held my wrist and pulled me even closer to him.

MY: Just stay here, right with me.

Some context here is that he was acting "drunk" in the translation above. Below was the reveal that he wasn't actually drunk.

[SSR Brewing Thoughts]

The bud of feelings needed to be raised with the utmost care, but how could he let it grow strong in an unpredictable environment?

Of course he had to control it himself rather than allowing it to happen naturally.

Just like adjusting the sun and rain when a grapevine was growing, and just like controlling every timing of winemaking.

Furthermore, if someone wanted a grape seedling, which was imperfect to begin with, to produce the desired fruit, to brew the perfect wine, then it needed even more precise control.

Otherwise... just like wine, a small error might lead to serious consequences.

As you can see, the god complex and obsession over control is strong here. He cannot and does not believe to leaving things to random nature. He's not willing to lose this love and will do anything to give him and his heroine a happy ending (unlike his parents).

That's not to say that he HAS to control everything though. He actually doesn't care about the process (nature vs. nurture) so long as the results are good. But, like I mentioned above, he is certainly a master of reducing "risks".

However, and this was the whole point of [SSR Brewing Thoughts], Mo Yi's heroine teaches him that there is a "next time" after failure. She teaches him that, sometimes, the journey along the way is more important than the conclusion and that what's most important is whether or not the person he loves is beside him.

What is extremely touching is how matter-of-factly she tells him that they can just try again if they fail at something. He does not need to chase perfection when he is around her and a lot of his dates are seeing him in various states of failure. Practicing failure is such a relatable thing for us all to learn in life.

Fourth, I am going to repeat myself a little here after these translations but, in my opinion, Mo Yi carries a childlike honesty and purity regarding his emotions. The thing that makes him so charming is that while he plays these manipulative tricks, he is also extremely blunt about his own emotions. He expresses his jealousy, his possessiveness, his blunders, etc. He wants her to be the only one who can see these different sides of him and perceive his moods when he normally keeps everyone else at a polite distance. The ONLY disguise he wears is a flimsy one that hides what, in his eyes, are the "ugliest" sides of himself because he doesn't want his heroine to hate him; but he doesn't hide the fact that he has these ugly sides at all.

Fifth, basically, go ahead and fall in love with Mo Yi! He looks dangerous and he sort of is (extremely grey morality, does not adhere to the Hippocratic Oath, literally amassed power to have the choice to do what he wants, and uses his own scale of judgment, but that's another essay for another time) but he is never dangerous to you and is just as invested in this love as you are.

I suppose one thing you do have to watch out for is his arrogant god complex and believing he knows what's best LOL.

[Personal Route Ch.3]

MY: Because the mother eagle knows that, only after experiencing the pain and torment of a broken wing, the young eagle will truly have the ability to soar in the sky.

MY: Although this is just a metaphor that is somewhat different from reality, when it comes to her...

MY: This is the path she chose and, not only will I let her walk on it, but I will also let her become the most dazzling presence on this road.

MY: But, Constable Yan, you should know better than me what sort of end most people who pursue light in the chaos have.

MY: So, to recognize the darkness in front of her and face it directly is something she must learn.

MY: If she was always huddled under the wings of others, then her road would end here.

YW: But aren't you afraid of something happening by chance?

MY: "Like an eagle that stirs up its nest, that flutters over its young, spreading out its wings, catching them, bearing them on its pinions."

MY: Since I chose to do this I naturally have enough certainty. Besides... I am here, so who could hurt her?

However, this is not a one-way street and the same goes for the heroine and what she can do to him. In fact, I am going to end this essay with one of my favorite quotes ever in this game (even still to this day), because it honestly shows how Mo Yi fell in love with the dazzling justice the heroine upholds and how he will accept anything of her.

One thing he says in a beta PV, the prologue of the game, and [SSR Border of Light and Darkness] is that he hopes she can stick with the choice she makes, even if it runs counter to the world and everyone is against her.

So, anyway, the context of the quote below is important because [SSR Dangerous Invitation] is essentially a microcosm of their relationship. They roleplay a locked-room mystery and, in the end, the heroine chooses to throw Mo Yi (her lover in the game) into jail because he's a murderer (even though he did it for her). She chooses the truth and her version of justice over them living together in a lie (by pushing the blame to someone else). Before the lover is executed, he writes one last love letter and this is what Mo Yi reads out to his heroine at the end of the date.

[SSR Dangerous Invitation]

MY: Perhaps what he was infatuated with was this kind of you.

MC: !!!

Hearing his words, I looked up in astonishment.

Those gold eyes suddenly became profound and intense. I couldn't understand his emotions, only feeling that I was about to fall into his eyes.

The noisy wind and the voices of people on the long street gradually faded away at his words.

Only my heartbeat remained in my ears and the last love letter the duke wrote to the viscountess before the gallows that he read out slowly.

MY: "I will always open wide my arms and accept all your beauty and cruelty."

MY: "I hope that you will, with this heart, embrace the one and only truth you pursue."

Sorry, I can't resist finishing off by saying some more sappy words but, again, Mo Yi is just a simple man who wishes his first love to be his last love and he's so invested in this love. You are the once-in-a-lifetime stirring of his heart.

#tears of themis #mo yi #vyn richter #weiding shijian bu #未定事件簿 #tears of meta

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divinefireangel · 3 years

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500 Followers Event!

First of all, I want to thank each and everyone of you for appreciating my work and actually following me 🥺🥺

And finally, I am doing an event for this number! Requests for my 500 followers event will be open till the end of this month aka 30th September! You can send in maximum of 3 "Alphabet" prompts in one request and a maximum of 3 requests each. :)

Send in Fluff/Smut/Dad/Dark + (Alphabet) + Member/Character/Actor in my ask box!

Requests are closed for this event.

The prompts are under the cut!!! 😙

FLUFF

A - Admiration (What does he absolutely adore about you?)

B - Butter (How smoothly did he flirt his way into your heart)

C - Cuddles (How does he like to cuddle)

D - Dream (What is one dream of his he wants to fulfill with you)

E - Emotions (How does he express his emotions around you)

F - Family (At what point in the relationship does he introduce you to his family)

G - Gifts (What is the gift he loved most from you)

H - Home (What about him, makes you feel like home)

I - Ink (Would he get a tattoo with you? If yes then what?)

J - Joy (What about you always makes him smile)

K - Kisses (How does he like to kiss you)

L - Love Language (What's his favourite way of showcasing his love for you)

M - Moment (At which moment did he realize you were the one)

N - Night (His favourite late night activity when neither of you can sleep)

O - Oven (What will he cook for you)

P - Pet Names (What's an endearing term he calls you)

Q - Quirk (A quirk of his you just cannot resist)

R - Reassurance (How does he make you forget about your insecurities)

S - Song (What song reminds him of his love for you)

T - Time (How does he spend time with you)

U - Upset (What is he like when you're upset)

V - Voice (How often does he compliment you)

W - Wish (What's one wish he will wish for in a field of dandelions)

X - X-ray (How well can he read you)

Y - Yes (How does he propose)

Z - Zen (How does he calm you)

SMUT

A - Aftercare (His go to method of aftercare)

B - Back (Does he prefer your back be marked with lovebites or his with scratches)

C - Cum (Where does he prefer to cum)

D - Darkest desire (Something he is shy to tell you but wants to try)

E - Evil (How sadistic can he get in the moment)

F - Favourite position (What's his go to position to make you lose your mind)

G - Grind (Will he cum in his pants by just humping you?)

H - Heaven or Hell (random sexcanon)

I - Ignite (How he turns you on)

J - Jack off (Does he jerk off to your images in his mind while you're dating)

K - Kink (One kink he has for sure)

L - Location (Favourite place to do the deed)

M - Motivation (How does he get turned on? Is it easy to turn him on?)

N - Neck (Does he have a sensitive neck or does he want an S/O who does?)

O - On or Off (Aka is he more Dom or Sub)

P - Porn (How likely is he to watch porn to learn from it)

Q - Quickie (Will he be interested in small rounds at different times or just one long lasting one)

R - Risk (How far is he willing to experiment in the bedroom)

S - Speed (how fast or slow is he on average)

T - Tongue (Does he prefer giving or receiving oral sex)

U - Underwear (Is he into lingerie?)

V - Voice (How loud is he as a dom/sub)

W - Weird (A questionable kink or sexual wish of his)

X - X-ray (How often will he take pictures of you in erotic ways)

Y - Yearning (Does he have a high or low sex drive)

Z - Zzzzz (How fast will he fall asleep after)

DAD

*Mention if you want it during the pregnancy, after birth or when your baby is a toddler, except for the obvious ones*

A - Affection (What does he absolutely adore about your baby)

B - Bump (How does he react when your bump starts to show)

C - Cries (How easily does he calm your baby)

D - Duty (How active will he be in his child's life)

E - Excitement (How excited will he be after birth)

F - Fluffy (How easily does he resist his child's puppy eyes)

G - Gifts (How much does he spoil your child, much to your dismay)

H - Height (How does he react when he realizes that your child is growing up)

I - "I love you"

J - Jealousy (Does he get jealous when your baby chooses you)

K - Kicks (His reaction to your baby kicking in your belly)

L - Lullaby (Does he write one or sing one he was sung)

M - Moon (What does he do when your child can't sleep)

N - Nursery (Did he find it difficult to build the nursery)

O - Oreo (A food item which he and his kid love)

P - Pet name (What does he call his little one, which is unique)

Q - Quiz (Does he get annoyed at your child's pestering question about random things)

R - Rose (How will he react when his kid makes something for him)

S - Sweet (A random tooth rotting fluff headcanon about him & your child)

T - Trip (How does he console your child when they fall down/get hurt)

U - Universe (What secret not so secret way does he thank the universe for you both)

V - Vroom Vroom (How often does he take your kid on Dad-Child trips without you)

W - Walk (How does he react when your child walks into his arms suddenly)

X - XOXO (How easily does he show affection to your kid)

Y - Yippee (How does he celebrate your child's birthday)

Z - Zzzzz (How does he put your kid to sleep)

DARK

Warnings:Death, killing, hurting someone, noncon/dubcon, forced relationship? Yandere behavior. This section is applicable only for SF9 and Seo Moon-Jo (Strangers from hell).

A - Adventure (What are some things he likes to do with his darling everyday)

B - Blood & Bone (Would he hurt his darling on purpose if they didn't listen to him?)

C - Crybaby (What will he do when his darling keeps refusing his love)

D - Darkness (What's one thing he wishes his darling never finds out about him)

E - Empty (What will he do when he has nothing left, aka his darling leaves him)

F - Forced Orgasm (How does he react when his darling refuses sex)

G - Grave (How many people will he kill for his darling)

H - Home (Where does he keep his darling)

I - Insanity (What make him this way or was he born like this)

J - Jealousy (How easily does he get jealous when his darling doesn't pay him full attention)

K - Knockdown (How does he treat the people in his darling's life)

L - Love or Lust (What is the first thing he is generally attracted to)

M - Moonlight (What is his innermost self like)

N - Nurture (How does he care for his darling)

O - Ownership (How does he show his ownership of you)

P - Pain (How can his darling severely hurt him)

Q - Queen (How well will he treat his darling after they accept him)

R - Ring (How soon does he propose to his darling)

S - Suspicion (How untrusting of his darling is he?)

T - Teddy bear (How affectionate is he with his darling)

U - Utopia (How much effort does he put in to make his darling happy)

V - Violence (How does he vent out his anger when his darling does something they shouldn't have)

W - Whisper (Does he prefer his darling to be soft or loud)

X - Xylophone (What is something that reminds him of his darling)

Y - Youth (What was his life like before he met his darling)

Z - Zeal (For how long does he genuinely try to make his darling like him before forcing them to)

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