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corvidcall · 2 years

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None Of You Know What Haiku Are

I'm going to preface this by saying that i am not an expert in ANY form of poetry, just an enthusiast. Also, this post is... really long. Too long? Definitely too long. Whoops! I love poetry.

If you ask most English-speaking people (or haiku-bot) what a haiku is, they would probably say that it's a form of poetry that has 3 lines, with 5, and then 7, and then 5 syllables in them. That's certainly what I was taught in school when we did our scant poetry unit, but since... idk elementary school when I learned that, I've learned that that's actually a pretty inaccurate definition of haiku. And I think that inaccurate definition is a big part of why most people (myself included until relatively recently!) think that haiku are kind of... dumb? unimpressive? simple and boring? I mean, if you can just put any words with the right number of syllables into 3 lines, what makes it special?

Well, let me get into why the 5-7-5 understanding of haiku is wrong, and also what makes haiku so special (with examples)!

First of all, Japanese doesn't have syllables! There's a few different names for what phonetic units actually make up the language- In Japanese, they're called "On" (音), which translates to "sound", although English-language linguists often call it a "mora" (μ), which (quoting from Wikipedia here) "is a basic timing unit in the phonology of some spoken languages, equal to or shorter than a syllable." (x) "Oh" is one syllable, and also one mora, whereas "Oi" has one syllable, but two moras. "Ba" has one mora, "Baa" has two moras, etc. In English, we would say that a haiku is made up of three lines, with 5-7-5 syllables in them, 17 syllables total. In Japanese, that would be 17 sounds.

For an example of the difference, the word "haiku", in English, has 2 syllables (hai-ku), but in Japanese, はいく has 3 sounds (ha-i-ku). "Christmas" has 2 syllables, but in Japanese, "クリスマス" (ku-ri-su-ma-su) is 5 sounds! that's a while line on its own! Sometimes the syllables are the same as the sounds ("sushi" is two syllables, and すし is two sounds), but sometimes they're very different.

In addition, words in Japanese are frequently longer than their English equivalents. For example, the word "cuckoo" in Japanese is "ほととぎす" (hototogisu).

Now, I'm sure you're all very impressed at how I can use an English to Japanese dictionary (thank you, my mother is proud), but what does any of this matter? So two languages are different. How does that impact our understanding of haiku?

Well, if you think about the fact that Japanese words are frequently longer than English words, AND that Japanese counts sounds and not syllables, you can see how, "based purely on a 17-syllable counting method, a poet writing in English could easily slip in enough words for two haiku in Japanese” (quote from Grit, Grace, and Gold: Haiku Celebrating the Sports of Summer by Kit Pancoast Nagamura). If you're writing a poem using 17 English syllables, you are writing significantly more content than is in an authentic Japanese haiku.

(Also not all Japanese haiku are 17 sounds at all. It's really more of a guideline.)

Focusing on the 5-7-5 form leads to ignoring other strategies/common conventions of haiku, which personally, I think are more interesting! Two of the big ones are kigo, a season word, and kireji, a cutting word.

Kigo are words/phrases/images associated with a particular season, like snow for winter, or cherry blossoms for spring. In Japan, they actually publish reference books of kigo called saijiki, which is basically like a dictionary or almanac of kigo, describing the meaning, providing a list of related words, and some haiku that use that kigo. Using a a particular kigo both grounds the haiku in a particular time, but also alludes to other haiku that have used the same one.

Kireji is a thing that doesn't easily translate to English, but it's almost like a spoken piece of punctuation, separating the haiku into two parts/images that resonate with and add depth to each other. Some examples of kireji would be "ya", "keri", and "kana." Here's kireji in action in one of the most famous haiku:

古池や　蛙飛び込む　水の音 (Furu ike ya　kawazu tobikomu　mizu no oto) (The old pond — A frog jumps in The sound of the water.)

You can see the kireji at the end of the first line- 古池や literally translates to "old pond ya". The "ya" doesn't have linguistic meaning, but it denotes the separation between the two focuses of the haiku. First, we are picturing a pond. It's old, mature. The water is still. And then there's a frog! It's spring and he's fresh and new to the world! He jumps into the pond and goes "splash"! Wowie! When I say "cutting word", instead of say, a knife cutting, I like to imagine a film cut. The camera shows the pond, and then it cuts to the frog who jumps in.

English doesn't really have a version of this, at least not one that's spoken, but in English language haiku, people will frequently use a dash or an ellipses to fill the same role.

Format aside, there are also some conventions of the actual content, too. They frequently focus on nature, and are generally use direct language without metaphor. They use concrete images without judgement or analysis, inviting the reader to step into their shoes and imagine how they'd feel in the situation. It's not about describing how you feel, so much as it's about describing what made you feel.

Now, let's put it all together, looking at a haiku written Yosa Buson around 1760 (translated by Harold G. Henderson)

The piercing chill I feel: my dead wife's comb, in our bedroom, under my heel

We've got our kigo with "the piercing chill." We read that, and we imagine it's probably winter. It's cold, and the kind of cold wind that cuts through you. There's our kireji- this translation uses a colon to differentiate our two images: the piercing chill, and the poet stepping on his dead wife's comb. There's no descriptions of what the poet is feeling, but you can imagine stepping into his shoes. You can imagine the pain he's experiencing in that moment on your own.

"But tumblr user corvidcall!" I hear you say, "All the examples you've used so far are Japanese haiku that have been translated! Are you implying that it's impossible for a good haiku to be written in English?" NO!!!!! I love English haiku! Here's a good example, which won first place in the 2000 Henderson haiku contest, sponsored by the Haiku Society of America:

meteor shower . . . a gentle wave wets our sandals

When you read this one, can you imagine being in the poet's place? Do you feel the surprise as the tide comes in? Do you feel the summer-ness of the moment? Haiku are about describing things with the senses, and how you take in the world around you. In a way, it's like the poet is only setting a scene, which you inhabit and fill with meaning based on your own experiences. You and I are imagining different beaches, different waves, different people that make up the "our" it mentioned.

"Do I HAVE to include all these things when I write haiku? If I include all these things, does that mean my haiku will be good?" I mean, I don't know. What colors make up a good painting? What scenes make up a good play? It's a creative medium, and nobody can really tell you you can't experiment with form. Certainly not me! But I think it's important to know what the conventions of the form are, so you can appreciate good examples of it, and so you can know what you're actually experimenting with. And I mean... I'm not the poetry cops. But if you're not interested in engaging with the actual conventions and limitations of the form, then why are you even using that form?

I'll leave you with one more English language haiku, which is probably my favorite haiku ever. It was written by Tom Bierovic, and won first place at the 2021 Haiku Society of America Haiku Awards

a year at most . . . we pretend to watch the hummingbirds

Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

Further reading:

Forms in English Haiku by Keiko Imaoka Haiku: A Whole Lot More Than 5-7-5 by Jack How to Write a Bad Haiku by KrisL Haiku Are Not a Joke: A Plea from a Poet Who Has Had It Up to Here by Sandra Simpson Haiku Checklist by Katherine Raine

#poetry #haiku #writing #literature #anime life #long post #i want to apologize but i had to get something off my chest #and the thing was. i love haiku #and when i see posts on here about haiku. i get so angy.#well ok i really get more disappointed bc nobody is really engaging with the form on its own terms #anyway i hope you enjoy some of my favorite haiku because theyre in there!!!!!#i didnt really get into the history of haiku. and i also did not get into why i got really into it #but i will say that i was really inspired by Jacob Geller's video A Thousand Ways of Seeing a Forest #which is a lot about translation #(which i mean. as an interpreter AND a poetry-enjoyer. really appealed to me lol)

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mooishbeam · 9 months

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『♡』 Obey Me

♡ featuring: kaeya x f!reader

♡ summary: you learn your lesson for disrespecting the calvary captain wc: 4.1k+ (i am so sorry)

♡ cw/tw: wax play, humiliation, degradation, sex toys, dacryphilia, rough sex, hard dom, overstim, orgasm torture, edging, bondage, squirting, pet play if you squint, kaeya is kind of an asshole, pet names (dove, pretty girl, sweetie)

notes: idk how the word count did that I'm too silly. feral kaeya does something to me tbh. n e way I promise a shorter one next time hehe. art by ttalby_ on ig <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Kaeya isn’t used to feeling like this.

The interesting days of tasks and adventitious missions superseded his need for activities outside of the Knights of Favonius. He often stumbled—more so, needlessly interjected—into petty situations. He lived for theatrics, an audience to indulge emotion and intimacy in its most vulnerable state. A man who solves the problems of the public before his own knew neither authentic nor genuine connection. Kaeya was well aware of how easily he made hearts swoon, with a silver tongue and attractive timbre, a mask imperceptible. When you arrived as an apprentice for the 6th Company, he assumed you’d be just as easy, just as captivated. You were anything but. You barely acknowledged his existence for the first year, and he’d be wrong to say your lack of dalliance didn’t chip away at his self-esteem.

Something egotistical in him wanted your attention. Romantic prospects were dispensable to him, but you had to know who he was. After all, who doesn’t love the Calvary Captain?

Just for fun he told himself, as you became the first person to turn him flushed and sow seeds of doubt surrounding love in his heart. Kaeya finally managed to achieve your regard and all you asked for was his name. The audacity of you, to ask the captain who he is? He nearly busted out laughing. He gently held your hand and kneeled to kiss it, maintaining eye contact throughout.

“Kaeya, my dear.”

You were surprised to find him waiting for you outside the headquarters one day, handsome navy strands haloed in confidence, a delicate flower and perfumed letter in hand. Kaeya watched you read it in silence, his poem dedicated to you, requesting a date. You couldn’t help but smile at his charm, despite his sweaty palms as he awaited your answer. An accumulation of the little things; the bouquet of roses he bought you weekly, so you’d always have a fresh one, making sure you were always hydrated, his ability to make you laugh in trying times. You were both full of adoration, though he wouldn’t admit how invested he was. The only person who glimpsed the truth was Diluc. Kaeya rambled in his drunken stupor at the tavern, and Diluc sighed at the overdramatic sonnet. “My heart beats for her like no other. Will this be my fate? My Greek tragedy?” he mumbled through hiccups.

As your relationship blossomed, work withered. An emerging problem reared its ugly head. Your assignments consumed your daily life and dwindled the moments spent with Kaeya. In the beginning stages of dating he understood, exuding nothing but patience and encouraging words. He didn’t expect you to drop work for him, and he was willing to accommodate the hectic schedule. Romantic gestures were limited to light caresses or kisses, clandestine sessions in abandoned alleyways. Frequent dates reduced to a couple a week, then a month, then none. The worst instances were when you assured Kaeya you’d arrive, only to call him a couple hours later with a tired apology, still stuck at your office. You promised him you’d make time for yourself and practice self-care, but it was evident you weren’t listening to his advice. You were no stranger to quickies, kindly offering them to Kaeya if he ever needed “destressing”. But the captain was never a fan of rushed affairs. He wanted desperately to share extended time with you, and you had none to give. It became easier to lie than to admit how overworked you were.

Kaeya didn’t come to headquarters today, but you recall the conversation from the previous night.

“Mm, I’m missing my little dove. Think you can come see me?” he said, tilting your chin up to meet his loving gaze.

“Of course. I don’t have a lot of work tomorrow so I should be done early.”

“Great. I’ll make dinner for us. Be at my place by 8, okay?” You agreed to the timeframe.

Now that you’re comprehending the incomplete documents strewn across your desk, you regret your conviction. You shouldered the weight of everyone in your division. It’s getting close to the date, and you’ve barely scratched the surface. You fumble for concentration, anchoring down to finish the rest of the list. You make haste and shove the papers at Hertha. I still have time to get there you thought. Glancing up at the clock as you dart out the building, your eyes widen at what it reads. 10:15 pm.

Fuck. You’re running now, skirt bouncing and bag rustling, navigating busy streets with an uneasy mind. Once again you promised, and once again you broke it. How could you be so careless? You catch your breath when your hand contacts the door. You relax before giving a few light knocks. The door swings open.

Kaeya’s hair is free from its usual constraints, draping down his back and shoulders, wispy bangs hugging his sharp features. He’s clearly pissed reclining against the doorframe. He stares at you with his arms folded in front of the parted button down that peaks into the muscular, scarred chest underneath.

“Kaeya, I-”

“Get inside.” He turns and walks to the kitchen. You follow him inside and take note of the cold portion of a beautiful plate—presumably your meal—sitting on the table. He swishes the nearly finished red wine before taking a sip. You search aimlessly for an acceptable excuse while he leans against the table with his hand, glass in the other, eyes trained to the floor. Each second of silence simmering makes your stomach knot tighter, and he lets you stand uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry, I... There were a few roads closed in the area. I had to take a different route.” you fib. He gazes at you, panning up and down before forcing a sarcastic smile.

“How unfortunate. Are these the same roads that made you three hours late?" His jaw tightens.

“It was pretty busy today-”

“I’m feeling generous tonight, so I'll give you one more chance to be honest.”

You sighed. “I’m so sorry. There’s been a lot of work lately. It’s not fair to you to deal with my problems.” He scoffs deeply, downing the rest of the glass and sets it on the table.

“If this isn’t working for you, I understand.”

“Oh? Are you suggesting a separation? Not even the gall to try and make it up to me?” he sneers.

“You’re handsome and people like you. It’s not hard to find other options.”

“If it’s not hard, why is the one thing I truly desire so difficult to hold? A petal drifting unpredictable wind, too quick to grasp.” He starts stalking towards you, relaxed but seemingly irritated. The contrast between his words and actions unnerves you.

“How many times must I tell you to take care of yourself, to not let them walk over you, to come to me if you need help?” He gets to you and snakes his calloused hand behind your neck, a firm grip. Yearning lips are inches from yours, his hair tickles your eyelashes.

“Why can’t you just listen to me, (Y/N)? Hmm?” He’s lenient, but you feel a shiver up your back and heat pooling in your stomach, nonetheless.

“I’ll try harder. I promise.” you say, barely above a whisper. The pad of his thumb swirls your cheek.

“I won’t entertain promises. Show me your dedication.”

“What do I do to prove it?” A sadistic grin grows across his face, and lips graze your ear, sultry voice coiling around the shell. Your breath stalls.

“Tonight, I’ll eat you up slowly-” Kaeya peppers soft kisses between the words against your jaw. “-savoring every. Little. Bite.” He trails down to your neck. You're melting in his hold, grabbing his robust arms for anything to stabilize you. "And when I’m picking you apart, and there’s tears in your eyes and you’re begging and you can’t take it anymore-” He drinks up your anticipation, an amused chuckle from the shudder prickling your skin.

“-you’ll sit there and obey me until I'm done. Like a good pet.”

You’re stripped of everything besides your underwear in front of the restlessly eager man. Standing in the center of this candlelit room, you feel miles away from him as he sits fully clothed on the edge of the bed. He’s lax, legs spread with a nonchalant posture; they invite you to kneel between them. Sex with Kaeya was never like this. Though infrequent, your back-alley blowjobs were done with kindness and haste. It was one thing for Kaeya to ogle your mouthwatering figure, another in the humiliating state he constrains you to. Your hands are bound by leather handcuffs that clip to a chunky black collar on both sides, limiting the movement of your wrists to just centimeters away from your face. You could move if you tried to, but the collar locked and tightened around your neck the harder you struggled. In the middle was attached a dangling leash, empty of its owner.

The vibrating lace panties he put you in buzz agonizingly low against your clit, sending gentle bursts to the butt plug filling deep, foreign space in your body. You’re glutted, chafing your thighs together to numb the sweet ache dotting your core.

“C’mere dove.” Kaeya orders, his finger curls in a guiding motion. You take one step assuming his entreat, and he retorts with a tut.

“Aht aht, dogs don’t walk. Get on your knees and crawl to me.” Embarrassment overcomes you as you drop to your knees from the filthy demand. It’s degrading, having to crawl without the use of your arms. You scuffle with balance, and he takes pleasure in playing with the controller. Your rocking rear and wobbly legs find rhythm on the floor through the violent highs and lows of vibration. It was harder due to the position you stumbled in; the bullet teases you in the right spots. You finally reach him, resting your head on his knee, exhausted for what’s to come. He merely pats your head and uses the other to stifle the smug smirk.

“Good puppy. Look at me.” Suddenly, he wraps the leash around his hand and pulls in taut. It snaps your eyes to his lustful expression, a thick aura that encapsulates you, suffocates you in his command. Kaeya zips his pants down to spring his throbbing cock free, a dark brown gradient to the mushroom tip.

“Suck. If you let anything spill, I’ll punish you” he cooes. You lick the pre come away, fixating on the sensitive tip. His breathy sighs show appreciation. You lick in circular motions around it before lolling your tongue and taking all of him between your lips. His girth makes space in your mouth impossible until the head presses the back of your throat. “Ugh, fuck” he groans. Kaeya stands and pulls the leash towards him, enough to nuzzle your nose against his pubes. You gag and slobber over his balls from the constant pressure in your throat, and he keeps you there, watching the tears ball in your eyes, unfazed by your retching pleas. He keeps a firm grip on the back of your head.

“Can you take it?” It’s almost mocking, as if he can’t see the mascara that smears your cheeks and your sweaty, breathless figure. You nod anyway, eager to please. He hums approval before pulling out completely and hammering his length down your throat. His heavy balls smack your chin at a savage pace, and strings of spit connect your puffy lips to his shaft. It’s barbaric and your throat is raw from the impact, but he chases his high. You’re absolutely powerless, your hands can’t even push his thighs back. However, subconsciously it felt nice, to be out of control, at the mercy of someone else using you for their impulse. The whir in your soaking panties feels richer now, tangling in your lower back and clouding your senses. All you smell and feel is him, it was like you never worked a day in your life. Like you were made for this, and this alone. Obscene noises come from your squelching mouth and Kaeya’s broken moans. Fuck and yes are all he can handle through constant whimpers, and you feel him trembling toward his release. He tilts your head to get a better view of you, spit and tears mixed with strands of hair stuck to your skin. You were a mess. But his eyes are solely on you, drenched in adoration and pure love for your trust in him.

“I want this pretty face on me when I come” he whines and speeds up his thrusts before spurting hot, creamy ropes down your throat, painting your mouth white. He twitches wildly on your tongue till rest, and his guttural moans echo in your ears as you hollow your cheeks to suck him clean. A satisfying pop emerges when you free his tip, and he recollects himself. He somehow looks completely untouched, besides the sheen of sweat; the poise of a prince.

Once Kaeya comes to his senses, he eyes the evidence of wetness that soaks through your panties, along with drops of pre come you failed to notice. Truthfully, you tried hard to avoid spilling anything, but the sensations in both your back and front were dizzying. He drawls a dramatic sigh, and loosely fiddles with the leash.

“Didn’t I say not to spill anything?” His words are methodical, weaving enough vitriol to make your blood still at the upcoming punishment. “I’m sorr-”

“You made a mess. Clean it.” He drops the leash and waits. What you assumed to be a towel clean-up was quickly refuted as you felt the tension of his boot press on your upper back. With just enough weight, he forces your body down towards the fluids, arms crossed. You lick it up without complaint. “Good puppy” he praises.

Kaeya picks you up as if you’re featherlight and sets you on the edge of the bed on your stomach. You can’t see what he’s doing, and the silence frightens you. Immediately, the judder of the bullet increases significantly—not enough to make you come, but just enough to torment. You attempt to sway from undying heat between your legs, yet the static overtakes. Unbeknownst to you, the butt plug begins to vibrate, as well. You whine and arch your back involuntarily. You finally hear a deep chuckle from Kaeya. His fingers graze your sopping underwear.

“So naughty, you got like this just from sucking me off?” He pushes the bullet harshly against you. You mewl from the feeling. “Please Kaeya, it’s too much.”

“Shh, I know, I know. We still have a long way to go.” he soothes. He spreads your ass to reveal more area, and he’s hushed to an alluring whisper in your ear. “(Y/N). I’m going to spank you. And each time I do, you’ll count. One, thank you. Two, thank you. Up to sixteen. Understand?”

“Yes” you rasped.

“Good girl.”

Kaeya massages your backside and prepares a slap. His palm crashes sharply on one with a resounding crack. Blazing surge sprawls across the whole cheek, but you manage to stay afloat. “One, thank you.” He promptly delivers another, a staggering strike to match the other cheek. “Two, thank you” you hissed. He kneads the smoldering dough in his hands and smiles at the juices stuck to your inner thighs.

“Such a pervert. You’re not enjoying this, are you?” he teases. The lines of pleasure and pain blurred for you long before. The crackling fire of his hand swatting your ass makes you cry out. He’s brutal, and the grip you have on his sheets colors your knuckles white. You endure delicious thwacks with a tender bottom all the way through thirteen. Your malleable mind forgets to count past that, forgets your place. Kaeya feigns hurt. “Am I that forgettable? Should we start over?” A shudder trails down your back.

“M’no, Kaeya ple-ase. ‘M sorry.” you stammer. He swipes your tears with his thumb and licks it. “I’m touched by your tears” he groans. He moves back to your searing bottom, digging crescent shaped indents into the welted flesh with his nails.

“Do you know why I had you count to sixteen?”

“N-no...”

A low hmph. “That’s the number of dates you missed.” You go pale for a second. “It won’t happen again, Kaeya. Please!” you beg. The need for release ruins your rational thoughts, and he can taste your desperation. “Please what, dove?” He plays ignorance. “Tell me exactly what you want.” He caresses your face lovingly, despite his cruelty.

“Wanna come, I need it so bad, Kaeya.” His name rolling off your tongue in lewd fervor makes his length constrict in his pants. You’re putty in his presence, and he delights in molding you to his wishes.

"Are you worthy of it?" he taunts. Fresh tears brim your eyes, and he can’t fight back the snicker in his throat. He walks away from you, and you’re left alone until you feel the mattress give way under his knee. What little sight you had in front of you is robbed by the silky black blindfold pulling stiff on your eyes. “Too tight?”

“A little.” He loosens it a bit and kisses your temple. Suddenly, a sphere makes contact with your lips, and you open. The ball gag secures around the back of your head, and you’re already salivating from the stretch of your jaw.

“You know what, I’ll let you come.” he lulled. You can’t hear the malicious tinge in his words, and he swiftly turns both vibrators up to a harrowing speed at the same time. A strangled moan gets caught in your throat and you quiver and lurch over. He spanks your sore behind in response.

“Keep your back arched. I want a perfect view” he husks. You use the stamina you have left to stay in that position. Your hips are unconsciously rutting against the bullet, and the ecstasy lapping at your swollen clit sends trails of fire up your stomach. Kaeya watches the saturated outline of your convulsing vulva, the honeyed, muffled moans unending and palms his erection.

“I’m sorry, this must be so hard for you” he soothes. “Almost as hard as it was for me to hear you lie so blatantly.” Kaeya wasn’t a man that held grudges, but he took amusement in your reactions. All he can think about is breaking you, with each touch and kiss; so that you travel through heaven and hell, drowning in desire until he carries you out. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you come hard, hole fluttering around nothing with electricity squirming in your bones. However, the pressure doesn’t stop, it seems to vibrate faster as you buck and cry. “Oops, wrong setting.” He turns it up higher, the bastard. It rips through your orgasm, already approaching another and you can’t take the sting. “Tell me if it’s too much” he sneers. Your hands jolt and snap back to the collar.

“I’ll turn it off later, I’m kind of busy right now. You know, work and stuff.” What? He wouldn’t leave you like this, right? Undecipherable noises bounce around the gag, but none persuade him. Footsteps get quieter, then the door shuts.

You can’t look or beg for Kaeya, and tears begin to stain the blindfold. Buzzing roars in your ears, your limbs are too weak to hold up and you can barely breathe. Your thighs shake from sick passion, and you come undone again over the persistent toys. The twenty minutes he was gone felt like hours. Your muffled sobs are uncontrollable, come cascading down your legs and spit dribbles from your lips. You aren’t sure how many times you came before he got back.

The Archons must have shown mercy; the vibrations stopped. You hear that suave voice resounding in your brain.

“I think you’ve earned a break.” he says, freeing the panties from you. The plug steadily glides out of your pulsing ring, and he removes the blindfold. Kaeya is the first thing you see, and for a moment he shines like royalty. The gag comes off and you’re babbling Kaeya’s name over and over like a chant, a devoted disciple. He cradles your face and hushes you.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” He flips you on your back. You’re in a daze gazing at him but his attention is lowered to your spread legs, slabbering at the slippery aftermath of his abandonment.

“Beautiful. A living work of art” he whispered. His mask dissolves before you. He reaches for one of the red candles glowing vividly on his nightstand and returns with the wax-leaking stick. You share a soft kiss, warm and pure while he tilts the candle over your chest. He’s careful with the course and allows it to dance across your breasts, down your sternum and above your pelvis. Each crimson plop and fleck are its own singing thrill, but your awareness is diverted to his wanton kisses, the nips on your bottom lip. Heat reignites your core. Once he blows out the candle, he smudges French kisses down your neck, tracing the pattern of the wax to subdue the burn. “You’re flawless” he breaths against your nipple. He sucks one while pinching the other, the occasional bite on your slightly bruising skin makes you wince. He slides off the bed and starts stripping with an insatiable thirst that longed to be inside you, shirt and pants thrown about. In one swoop, he grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge.

“If I uncuff you, will you behave?” You nod frantically with the clinking metal, and he detaches the restraints. He brings your legs over his shoulder, and you feel the cockhead prodding your slit. Kaeya sinks his tip into you, and you’re suddenly overcome with frenetic throbbing that ripples through your hypersensitive clit. “W-wait, Kaeya-” You don’t have nearly enough strength to protest when you grab his wrists settled on your waist—he’s determined to fuck it out of you. “Mm, just a little more” He’s craving, his veins rub your walls all the way to the base. With his balls flush, he pulls out and drives into you. The first pump sends a flaming shock through your body, an abyssal fall you succumb to. You can’t register the erotic screams or pleasant shock of Kaeya as a stream of liquid coats your bodies and drenches the sheets. Your hysterical sobs and innocent sorry’s are music to his ears, better than any melody in Teyvat. He rubs circles on your lower belly and starts again at an unrelenting pace. “I-I can’t Kaeya, ‘m coming so hard.” you wail, writhing from the deep strokes coaxing your g-spot. Your stomach quakes and you grip him like a vice, he can’t stop the feral urge. “Fuck- aww, sweetie. I know, I know. Can you do another one, for me?” He tries to keep his composure, but his voice is bordering unhinged, dying to see you squirt again. Kaeya's chest pins yours and he pummels your cunt with your shaky legs locked around him. Your nails latch onto his back and you weep into his shoulder. The emotion is too intense; your heart thrums viciously in your ears.

“You’re my pretty little fuck toy, hmm?” he stutters through thrusts. “Just lay here and take my cock. Quit your job. Be mine entirely.” Loud plap’s accompany his silent plea, and you feel another orgasm boiling. His palm pressing on your womb makes you incoherent and he chuckles. “Aw sweetie, it feels too good?” he mocks. You touch foreheads. You’re both teeming, waiting for each other. “Give it to me. Come on my cock like a good slut” he demands. Wave after relentless wave splinters you, and the gushing sprinkler covers him exactly like he wanted. Kaeya moans at the sight. “Shit, ‘m coming.” He pursues his sputtering hips, shooting thick globs that greedily crowd your sex.

Kaeya breathes heavily as he comes down from his peak twitching inside. You still tremble sporadically in his arms. He rubs your back, placing calming kisses all over your face. “You alright, pretty girl?” You’re edging on unconsciousness. He stays with you until you gather responsiveness.

When you wake, the collar is off, and you identify concern in his eyes. “You weren't this scared when you were killing me” you murmur quietly. Kaeya flashes a genuine smile. “If you died from good sex, that’d be quite the compliment on my part.” He props you into his lap facing him, and you're reposed on his chest. He pats your hair, staring off into nothing and everything.

“I’d much rather have you in pieces. Because I’m the only one that can put you back together.” It was a passing thought, one that shouldn’t be said out loud. It churns in your gut, and you aren’t sure why.

“You worked so hard today. Let’s take a bath, okay?”

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya smut #kaeya

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satocidal · 6 months

Text

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ Consume All of Me — Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: He’s Satoru Gojo, he’s the strongest man— not in your embrace however, there he is no more a creature reduced to his carnal wants

— a/n: it was supposed to be so very short idk what I wrote but it’s meant to cannibalism symbolised with love idk idk ik not ok—tagging @draecys becauseee yes; the indented/highlighted parts are portions of the poem “The Cannibal’s Canción” by Gloria Anzaldua

— word count: 2.3k

— warnings: Smut!! MDNI!! AFAB! Reader x Gojo Satoru; cannibalistic themes; animalistic themes; mentions of blood; mentions of death (set during the time period when Yuuji “died”); sex used as a form of coping; unprotected sex; established relationship; p -> v; “god” used as a term to portray their ‘love’; not preordered bound to have mistakes

It is our custom to consume the person we love.

Satoru Gojo was meant to be.

An heir, the strongest, half a god, an admiration, an inspiration, a story—a tragedy.

To do and not to do, boundaries were placed clearly, on youth that was meant to be the revolution—each boundary broke in the essence of his wants.

The sheer simplicity of his life lay in the irony—Gojo, he carried the name well, all that extricated him from that which was humane.

He hated it, bound to—snatched from his hands was the toy most referred to a childhood, stolen from were partially his dreams, pulled from him was an innocence and thrust into him were responsibilities.

He carried himself well, he was the strongest, he had to.

But Satoru Gojo, despite the rumours that fell behind him, despite the prayers people would sing to him, he was no god.

Human.

Pity.

Those were the nights that he was truly yours—not the world, no, just yours. Those were nights he didn’t pretend—there wasn’t the joy in his voice, plain debauchered reality.

Those were nights when he didn’t hold you, rather, he let himself be held—those were nights when Satoru Gojo slipped away from that which was his tragedy.

Those nights he sunk into you, deep, a haven—Satoru Gojo was a god to many, you loved him as one too, and he often held you as his Goddess too—but those nights, those nights he loved like you were his possession.

And perhaps—no, factually, you were.

Taboo flesh; swollen genitalia—the nipples—the scrotum—the vulva—the soles of the feet—the palm of the hands—heart and liver taste best.

Yuuta Okkutsu, a planned execution.

The kid was 15, 16 at most, by the face of it.

Your room was quiet, save for the hefty, slow breaths that Satoru passed.

The sun was out still, your room was full and yet—even then it was ever present, his gaze, glowy- dark?

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him this way, he wasn’t panicky—though you’d seen that too, no, Satoru Gojo was livid.

Your room compares small to his, your world fell smaller too—but you were his world- he didn’t hold comparisons there.

“Satoru?” A voice held timid, Satoru yearned the quiet—“I want to kill them,”

A sigh, yours—a scoff, his.

“I know but…”

“You don’t. But that’s ok, it isn’t your fault,” these nights Satoru was hard to deal with, these nights Satoru was judgemental but he was accepting, these nights Satoru spoke like the ego he was sure to hold.

“He’s just a kid, what do they even…” you watched as he let his words trail off, one leg in the table, the other resting upon it, he sat opposite to you.

Most would sense the danger, the rage—you did too, which was why you were his.

Where most feared him, you extinguished it.

Satoru could deal everything on his own, he adored how you never let him though.

“Do you want time to think or…?”

Often, you felt shameless—raising the question—knowing all so well that everything that plagued his mind was all so concerning and yet, yet all you offered to him was sex, an escape.

He always accepted.

Vulgar—he craved it.

“Think about what,” his words seemed harsh—directed at you, sometime he did so, you didn’t mind it.

“About how even as the strongest I can’t do shit huh? That- that I- fuck,” another scoff, your heart sank.

“Come here Satoru,” a small beckon, he obeyed—he always did.

Almost crawled into you, large hands, the way they seemed to engulf you—it was almost unethical to him.

A kid was to be dead, he’d blame it upon his insolence when your embrace would be ripped from him again—and here he was, head jostling it’s way between your thighs, a burn he lett do behind.

But there you were, eyes focused onto his, a soft smile, you washed it away—his sorrows, his anxieties—to you, it was conceptually simple.

Good or evil, it did not concern your God.

“Are you ok?” A mumble, yours, his head bobbed in a yes—“are you?”

He didn’t care—he didn’t have to, not in this moment.

You paused, of course you were, always with him.

“Mhmm,” you offered a short smile, “always with you, just wanna see you ok.”

The process was always the same—your corruption, it began with his mouth, pressed against yours, desires lingered on the tongue and shared, the wanting, the need—the desperation to be whole.

He wanted to have you, you wanted him to have you.

Consumption.

Teeth sank in your flesh- often it hurt, it did this time too—Gojo loved you as a rotten dog, he was starved.

You wanted him to be satisfied, you didn’t question it—Satoru made up for it anyways—if he left three bites, he’d leave three thousand kisses on the same spot, he loved you.

He really did.

And he always was satisfied too, right after you both would lay on your bed heaving, he would be okay.

You would fall asleep on him, he loved just how tired you would get from him, you would hold him, he loved just how normal it was for you.

But all that was to be described a vex—you couldn’t help but add Satoru’s phone to the list.

A groan—his, and just like that, he slipped away.

Gone.

Chaste kisses gone, a wet touch longed for—the primal feeling remained.

Satoru was gone.

I’ll wear your jawbone round my neck, listen to your vertebrae, bone tapping bone in my wrist.

It’s been almost an year—the moment of compassion never arose again, you were glad—but you also weren’t.

Satoru was giddy, Satoru was loving—however, you could hear the stress, your ears perked up always, he showed nothing—a slow curtain drawn.

But fate as it lay—not in his hands, he was only a creature after all.

The strongest, but a creature.

It was the same as ever, he paced and paced walked right in front of you, the room was quiet—the call had just ended, Satoru had scoffed at the end of it.

“Toru’?”

No response.

You remained quiet, not afraid, you knew better than to approach him such.

1 round- then 3 and then 5 more, Satoru stopped in front of you, dropping to his knees, his fingers rubbed circles on your knee.

“The kid’s probably not comin’ back,”

You stared at the mess of his hair, it’s been a while since you last trimmed it, your hand grazed into it.

You knew who he was referring to, Yuuji Itadori, Satoru was the mentor—words acclaimed as of now insisted that he’d been found dead as the many you’d heard of over the years of your youth.

You didn’t bother asking the details, Satoru always vomited it out anyways, “those bastard- fuckin’ assigned the kids a mission like that- a special grade? Bloody fuckers,”

Your hand pulled at his hair softly, a tug here and there, then a kissed pressed.

“Will you go right now?”

The answer was obvious to be a ‘no’—proven right in the way he shook his head—“s’been a while- I need to— I, shit- need you.”

You gulped—aware of his guilt—his students were hurt, and here he was begging for a touch.

But, you heard the desperation evident in his voice, who could you even be to defy his request?

So slowly, surely you spread your knees, pushing yourself back—it was one of the nights when Satoru didn’t fuck to please you, no.

These nights, your body was made for him.

These nights he bared you no foreplay, there was no teasing, just sex.

Pure desire.

A small ‘umph’ slipped your lips as Satoru threw you on your bed, eyes stuck on your face as his hands pulled away your pants.

Shameless.

Neither cared.

It was always the same, his touch was feather light—trailing from from your feet to calves, a light massage offered to your inner thigh—he treated you as if you were fragile, for him, you were.

Your face grew hot, his eyes remained stuck on the wet patch on your panties—“were you touching yourself?”

Only animalistic—you had needs, Satoru wasn’t around to fulfil.

A nod you passed— a light smirk grew on his face—easy, he was on the higher pedestal.

“Show me,”

Show him—put in a performance—your fingers traversed your own body, it grew hotter, it burned, your own touch.

You were aware of his gaze, your fingers traced the lace, the wet patch—you pressed into the wetness- eyes closing in slight ecstasy, a performance.

“Did you miss me?” You dare not increase the pressure of your fingers on your cunt—slow circles drawn, a tease—“a lot,” you whispered back—“you?”

Both hands grasped in one of his—he pulled them away, mouth leaning in between your legs, to see what was his, to sniff, to smell—he loved it.

“Always.”

You paused, you knew he wouldn’t bother today—he never did, not in such cases.

Typical sex was different, it wasn’t heavy, it wasn’t so tense—it was Toru’ that you fucked those days.

But as of now, the man who twisted you about wasn’t Toru’, the man who’s calloused hands rubbed your spine, fingers lending in a shiver—it was Satoru Gojo.

“Do you need more prep? I can’t be bothered unless…”

You shook your head quick—it was once in forever of a moment, you wanted to feel him, raw.

And that was all the encouraging Satoru required—pulled away your lacy panties—he smiled softly as the silver of your wetness connected to the gusset of your soiled panties in a string—“how fuckin’ filthy,” he groaned, “got so wet at the thought of me?”

And like his possession, you nodded.

You let him move you, a heap of flesh and blood and emotions that lay scattered, you wanted to please— your breath hitched as he situated your legs over his shoulders—“shh,” he murmured, “you’ll be okay with me,”

You lay as the crimson to his pale—the blood lay splattered in the snow—“ready?” He needn’t wait for the response, half hardened dick already lined at your entrance, his tip teased you— a whine you passed to his amusement.

Satoru couldn’t care enough though, pushed in all the way, he didn’t give you time to settle in, mending your walls, stretching them to accustom his length—only to pull away all the way, you whimpered at the sudden loss, crying when he pushed in all the way again.

Pathetic moans you let out, your walls flattened about his size — nails digging deep into his biceps—deep enough to scratch, to mark—it wasn’t new, it was exhilarating all the same.

Satoru was merciless with his pace—he wanted to taste your pain, he wanted to feel the salt of your tears—lick them away, he wanted you spasming.

Sex, it wasn’t enough—he lusted for all of you.

Rapid, the way he pulled out and pushed in harder, each thrust left you gasping—it was an appetite being satisfied.

White hair dishevelled, slight sweat pressed to his forehead, every thrust accounted for a ditzy kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Y’er s’fucking tight angel,” your mouth hung open at his words—too far gone to pay attention—“you were built for this,” he added, panting, “this pussy, for me. You’re mine,” a low growl that he let out, he could feel you clench tighter at that.

You knew he was losing it, the control, primal in all senses—you moaned loudly as his hands cupped your face— a rough kiss tucked in, his tongue sliding over yours—filth.

Legs pressed to your sides now, you cried louder as he reached in deeper—so warm, you met him perfectly.

“Y-you’re close,” the stutters, you giggle slight as he does too—close, both of you, he could feel your climax building, so did you.

And just like that he leaned in further, your nails remained placed in his arms—blood oddly visible now—it dripped, beautiful.

You bit your lips as Satoru dragged his mouth—pressed upon your shoulder—teeth napping at the soft flesh.

I’ll string your fingers round my waist—what a rigorous embrace, over my heart I’ll wear a brooch with a lock of your hair.

“You’re mine,” a whisper—a demand, you nodded, “yours,” you related, mind blanking—“yours alone, all yours just yours,”

“How do I feel?” Another demand—“fucking perfect,” another moan- you could tell he was edging himself, not until you do — you were close still.

“Tell me you love me,” a finger pressed to your ignored clit, All stimuli away from your shoulder now—not an inch of pain anymore on either body, just marks, territorial— and pleasure.

Your pussy clamped down onto Hinckley his thumb focusing on the bundle of nerves down there—so ignored, so tenderly he rubbed it.

And that was it, the pleasure enough to cause you to break—enough to have your mind blanking—enough for your abused pussy to tighten around him, and that’s when he came right after.

“Can you take more,” a shake of your head, he nodded- he loved you.

He didn’t pull out yet—never did, basking in the warmth of your bodies pressed together, enjoying the marks he left, they’d hurt later, he’d kiss them better.

“Love you,” a murmur, yours—and you watched as he slipped out of the slow trance—no longer the man who just fucked you, back to being Toru’.

“Love you too,” he whispered back, finally pulling out—he lay on top of you, a heap—but even then you were sure, a growl that you heard.

Nights I’ll sleep cradling your skull, sharpening my grin on your toothless grin. Sundays there’s mass and communion and I’ll put your relics to rest.

And when all was said and done, a stress by gone for later, satoru lay pressed to your side, your fingers grazed his hair, tugging. A hand woven to hold you close, heavy, him and his slumber. And in your moments of solitude and awareness you realised easy—the man beside you wasn’t human entirely.

Not yet, not to be ever.

A beast- nevertheless, yours.

All of this work is original and entirely my own— please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

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leighsartworks216 · 8 months

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Prompt for whenever you want it: the reader grew up in a household where she wasn't allowed to be very feminine/like cute things. Her family was adamant that she be tough and that anything remotely feminine or pretty would be wasted on her. So she secretly likes cute and pretty things, but has internalized all the things her family told her so she never let's it show. I would love to see astarion pick up on it and how he would react? I just imagined one day he presents her with a delicate handkerchief with her initials (he embroidered them himself) and I practically bawled my eyes out 😭😭😭

Idk why I really struggled to write this one. I just had a hard time starting it. So I'd write an opening, hate it, leave it for a bit, come back, leave it again. But I finally got it to a point that I am happy with it

Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader

Warnings: vague references to trauma, self-doubt, swearing

Word Count: 1,041

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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One gets quite good at reading people when that’s all you did for 200 years. Someone would twitch and Astarion could know exactly what they were thinking. Reading you was as easy as opening a book.

Every time you passed a market or merchant, Astarion could see the way your eyes flit longingly over jewelry or dresses. It was always brief. If the vendor noticed, they’d try pitching the item to you; the same old lines: “A beautiful necklace for a beautiful lady!” But you just smiled politely and shook your head, muttering how it wasn’t your style.

It was curious. Throughout your journey so far, he’d noticed other things, too. How you’d save the most beautiful, feminine dresses for your female companions. At first he just thought you wanted to give them something nice, but it was odd when you’d provide them an item much more suited to your strengths than their own. How your eyes would linger a little longer on flowers and lace gloves. But the moment you felt eyes on you, you’d turn away, the distant longing gleam in your eye replaced with a set determination.

He’d even caught you staring at the embroidery on his clothes once or twice.

(“Distracted, are we?”

“I was only wondering what it says. An odd poem for a shirt.”

“Hmph. Clearly it’s meaning is lost on you, darling.”)

So, with 200 years of experience, Astarion came to the only conclusion he could plausibly find. He accounted for your own attire - masculine or purely functional - your steadfast avoidance of anything feminine, the sorrow that visibly washed over you when you came across something particularly beautiful.

You didn’t allow yourself these things, because you couldn’t.

Well, you could, he supposed. But you weren’t. Perhaps, like him, you felt you didn’t deserve it. Or perhaps, like him, it had been ingrained into your very being that you couldn’t have it. Either way, the result was the same.

He wasn’t honestly sure what came over him when he realized. And it had taken him a few days to think about the idea that formulated unbidden, itching at the back of his mind in a way that put the tadpole to shame. But one night, after feeding (on you and a boar), he sat within his tent and got to work. He threaded the eyes of needles with practiced ease, steadily guided it back and forth through the material in his hands, creating elegant shapes. If he was being honest, it was some of his best work.

It took him even longer to gather the nerves to give it to you. You handed out gifts freely - armor, weapons, trinkets, blood. But he’d… well, he’d never really given anyone a gift before. Nothing as genuine as this, certainly. His mind, his own worst enemy aside from Cazador, kept plaguing him with thoughts of how you’d hate it. How you’d take one look at it, struggle through a smile, and tuck it away at the bottom of your bag. And so it remained in his belongings, safely hidden.

And then you just had to go and be so damn good. You just had to stand up to Araj Oblodra when she kept insisting he drink from her. You just had to quietly tell him that he could, if he wanted to, but only if he wanted to. And you just had to respect his choice. He’d never been so overwhelmed with emotion before. Nobody had ever done that for him. His choices didn’t matter, his comfort didn’t matter. But you didn’t even hesitate.

When you sought him out at camp later that night, you even told him he was free. No longer a slave who had to get on his back for mere breadcrumbs. Too many emotions - relief, fear, euphoria, worry, gratefulness - flooded his chest.

He cleared his throat. “There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to give you,” he admits with a nervous chuckle. “Consider it a… thanks, for what you did for me back there.”

He pulled the neat, white handkerchief from his pocket and presented it to you. Red eyes flit over your face, trying to read every little expression that passed, as you stared at the cloth. On the corner, embroidered in the same golden thread as he used on his shirt, were your initials. Immaculate and shiny.

Your mouth opened. Your eyes were wide, your brow furrowed and then raised. You struggled for words. You met his eyes with shock. “A-Are you sure? I mean, this is much too fine for me - I was happy to stand up for you - Not that you needed any help! I mean-”

“Darling,” he hushed. So you did enjoy it, after all. “It’s a gift. Consider it repayment for all the nights you’ve bared your neck for me, if nothing else. A simple exchange.”

A dying sound left your throat with a breath as you looked back down at the handkerchief. With shaky hands, you took it from him. You held it as though it was a religious artifact from the gods, not a folded square of soft silk with lace borders. It had the same smooth feel as running your fingers over the surface of still water. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes as you ran a thumb over the letters.

“I…” You took a shaky breath, looking up at him again through the building water in your eyes. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

He smirked, though your blatant joy made his lips twitch into the start of a genuine smile. “You… deserve something nice. Something more than, well,” he gestured vaguely at your worn cotton attire, “this.”

You laughed and brushed away the tears beginning to slip down your cheeks with the back of your hands. “You’re still a bastard.”

“Oh, undoubtedly.”

“But a nice bastard.”

“Careful, darling.” He leaned forward with an even wider smirk, fangs peeking out as a mischievous twinkle glinted in his eye. “We wouldn’t want word getting out.”

And if he caught sight of that little cloth poking out from a pocket or resting at the top of your bag, well maybe he let himself enjoy that warmth in his chest.

---

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jinnie-ret · 8 months

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If ur taking rq still can I rq a skz x 15 year old girl in training (like that protection gic you wrote ) and how they react to her being good at producing, singing, rapping and dancing but they didnt know she could do all that until they keep running into her or maybe look for her because they ordered fkkd for her too eat with them and they see her in her rehearsals and in her dance practice room learning like idk an itzy choreo or sum by herself and they see shes improved since they last saw her do everything? Ig like a little Ace if u would like to put It that way!

It's ok if u don't want to or can't do this tho! Love ur writing💕

ace of hearts

stray kids x reader (platonic)

genre: fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

summary: stray kids have nothing but good things to say about the upcoming ace of jyp.

I hope you enjoy! There's a small excerpt of a song Y/N has written herself which I actually wrote (it's a hobby of mine hehe) so if you want me to post the whole thing I'll do so, maybe as a poem haha

My asks are currently shut but if you want to be added to my taglist, do let me know! And if you liked it, please reblog and like! :)

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Shoulder shimmying had never been so hard, but Y/N seemed to have finally gotten down the choreo to ITZY's 'Wannabe', the members of Stray Kids seeming to think so too. They had just been looking around for a room to practice in when they came across their young trainee friend, who they hadn't seen for a while due to their busy schedule.

A small applause sounded from behind Y/N, making her jump as she saw the door open and Stray Kids clapping for her.

"Ah! Hello sunbaenims!" Y/N blushed and bowed politely. She wasn't expecting to see them there, so absorbed into practising for her next showcase.

"Hi there!"

"Annyeong!"

"Wow!"

They all let out greetings as they walked over excitedly to Y/N.

"How has everything been? It's been a while since we saw you," Jeongin smiled widely at Y/N, trying to ease the obvious nerves he saw from her.

"Have you been practicing regularly? Your dancing has improved a lot," Changbin nodded his head in approval.

"Ah, you really think I've improved?! Yeah I've been practising a lot these days..." Y/N bashfully admitted, rubbing her sweaty palms on her leggings. Was it from exercising or from nerves? She wasn't quite so sure herself.

"We can see that. You're better at dancing and freestyling than us now," Lee Know laughed, praising the younger girl jokingly, but there was still a hint of seriousness to it that showed Y/N he was proud of her, and that helped her relax more.

"Maybe one day even Jisung will be jealous of your dancing skills," Felix laughed, causing the quokka like man to look over at him with a mock appalled face.

"Haha maybe I'll take his place as the ace," Y/N smirked, feeling comfortable enough to joke around with them. It wasn't a regular occurrence that she saw the boys but everytime she did, she was soon able to fall back into a relaxed state where it felt like she had known them forever.

"No way! You will never be as talented as me!" Jisung smirked back, yet he couldn't help but goofily smile back at her as he ruffled her hair.

"Well, we're glad you're practicing so hard. Would you like to have some fried chicken with us?" Seungmin piped up, his eagle eyes noticing that she only seemed to have some water in the room with her. Plus, he remembered what it was like being a trainee, and an offer of fried chicken would not be one to be turned down.

"Oh sure! If there's enough to go around!" Y/N clasped her hands together excitedly.

"Of course there's enough food! We're so proud of all your progress by the way, we can tell how hard you've been working, Y/Nnie," Chan praised her, as they all sat down together on the floor.

"Here, eat up," Hyunjin passed over a box of fried chicken to Y/N from the bags of fast food they had.

"Just remember to take a lot of rest too," Jisung commented genuinely, yet anyone could tell he, as well as the other members were very much so enthralled with the heaven sent food in front of them.

"Don't worry I do!" Y/N rushed out, before taking a bite of the fried chicken and wiggling slightly as she did a happy dance.

"You're so cute when you're excited!" Felix giggled as he saw her.

"That's exactly what Channie hyung does," Seungmin laughed along.

There was a moment of peaceful eating before Chan kept up the conversation.

"Oh yeah, we wanted to ask you something! Are you good at rapping?" Chan wondered, wiping his hands on a napkin.

"Well, I don't want to brag but I think I'm pretty good," Y/N shrugged, she had practiced enough and knew she was at JYP for a reason, and her talents certainly didn't go to waste when it came to rapping.

"Oh yeah? You actually rap too? I had no idea. Have you tried writing your own lyrics before?" Changbin got excited at the prospect of hearing Y/N rap.

"I'm not as confident in writing rap lyrics as I am in singing them if that makes sense?" Y/N explained, hoping it was understandable.

"I get what you mean. You must be very talented though since you can sing so well," Lee Know wondered.

"Do you happen to write your own songs too or do you learn songs from other artists?" Chan asked, interested in what her identity as a future artist would be.

"Oh I like to write my own songs too!" Y/N beamed. Now that, was an area she was proud of herself for.

"Really? Can you play one of your original songs for us?" Hyunjin said in a shocked tone, head tilting slightly in disbelief but wanting to hear her sing nonetheless.

The boys all stared at her in anticipation.

"Oh, sure... If you really want me to," Y/N became nervous again, because this was Stray Kids! Yes they felt like her friends but to sing her own personal works in front of them was still nerve wracking.

"Yes, we really want you to!" Jeongin encouraged her, offering that same reassuring smile as he did earlier.

All of the members were now eagerly waiting for her.

"Ok, here's a chorus I wrote recently," Y/N finally nodded, making the boys even more excited as she began to sing.

"Oh it's in my bones.

Hereditarily alone.

Surrounded by people,

But that gives no meaning.

It's in my bones."

The boys stared in in wonder, thinking the words were so beautiful and they loved the emotion she put into it even for such a small snippet of the song.

"Her voice is amazing..." Hyunjin was in awe.

"Yeah, you have a really good vocal tone!" Jisung clapped.

"And you wrote that yourself?" Chan smiled like a proud dad.

"Can we hear more?" Changbin said hopefully, nudging Y/N playfully.

"Well, I think I should now that I've sang a teaser for you," Y/N beamed, and for the next couple of minutes she sang the rest of the song to the boys. She even played a small backing track which consisted of an acoustic guitar, simple but sweet, building up towards the end of the song.

"I can't wait to see you debut!" Felix clapped with the other boys.

"You really will steal everyone's hearts, Y/N, you'll go far," Chan said, a big smile adorning his face as everyone offered their comments and praises to Y/N.

"Just don't let it get to your head," Lee Know joked, causing his members to whack him playfully and tell Y/N to not listen to him anymore.

"Thank you guys, it really means a lot."

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain @sakufilms @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @hanjiquokkaaa

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic

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mazeinthemiroh · 1 year

Note

hey!! idk if you’ve already done this but could u do something like skz as ex’s? cause i think chan would be the type of ex to be friends after the break up (unless you’ve done something really bad) and i’d like to know how you think the other members would be

- 🦭

stray kids as ex boyfriends

genre: headcanon; hurt, angst

word count: 1.3k

warnings: cursing, jeongin's hurt the most (gotta warn yall <///3 )

thank you for requesting! please like and reblog if you enjoy <3

bangchan

the friendly one

this is purely depending on circumstance because if you hurt him or any of his members in any way he's literally cutting you off and out of his life

but that is if the situation is severe

most of the time he likes ending on good, mutual terms if possible. he knows things aren't going to be completely the same or aren't going to be particularly smooth but he's willing to work past that

especially if you have been a good friend before dating each other

so he will make an effort to talk to you at social events if you're in the same friendship group. just a casual catch-up to see how you are doing

it might be hard seeing you without being able to be the same touchy, loving way he's used to. he feels he has to hold himself back quite a lot

i can see him being hurt if you have moved on and are in another relationship and he isn't

minho

the messy one

feelings are... complicated

and minho is too

he's a very intricately formed human being, filled with unpredictabilities and chaos, good and bad.

minho as an ex can be messy. you'll see him sometimes during social gatherings; he will avoid you most of the time, but occasionally interact with you as if you're his best friend

he'll be sarcastic and make snide remarks with that shit-eating grin on his face

sometimes he'll lure you back into his life, his heart

other times he wants to forget he's even known you

you guys are on and off and on again. the wannabe ross and rachel, if you will

but all of the craziness boils down to the fact that he misses you, more than he expected

and the only way to fill the hole in his heart that you left him is by chasing what you had together

changbin

the self-improvement one

changbin tries to move on as quickly as possible

he thinks it's healthier that way: no point in dwelling in the past when he knew he wasn't going to turn back to you

he needed to put the past behind him and focus on himself

which means a lot more working out, more than he had ever done before

eating healthier, going out more and with different people, making sure he had enough rest

his friends were worried, at first, that he would over-do it, perhaps burning himself out in order to deflect the feelings of loss you left him

but he's never felt better as he looks ahead rather than dwelling on what once was

still, there are moments, perhaps when he is alone, where he catches himself missing you. your laugh, your smile, your body to hold at night. yeah, he missed that a lot...

hyunjin

the one who's still in love

it would be hard for hyunjin to move on

whether you hurt him, or he hurt you, or you both end on good circumstances, he's not ready to leave you

life without you? well, up until now he hasn't even begun to imagine life without you. and why should he? he thought you'd be together forever

so now he's devastated, trying to forget you when really you never left his mind

oh and he'd write poetry about. lots and lots of poems about the heartbreak and the longing and everything in between. he's a wistful guy, and it's a way of coping with the loss of you

but it's not very... 'coping' of him. coping would require him slowly but surely moving on

but he doesn't do that

no. instead, he holds on to the memory of you and what could've been.

jisung

the one who keeps coming back

he knows he shouldn't, but he can't help it

oh he tries, but soon he finds himself staring at your number on his phone screen, tempted to drop you a text or even, at times, call you

it's weird. he thought he'd be fine after the breakup. he thought he would be able to have his moment to grieve and then move on

but if that was the case... why was he still thinking about you?

that's a question that tortured his mind to no end because he had absolutely no answer for it

he couldn't like deeper inside himself to realise he still, ultimately, has feelings for you

and so he always ends up coming back into your life, usually by accident

he calls it manifesting but is it really manifesting if its at the worst moments?

like when he bumped into at the supermarket, running on 0 hrs of sleep with eye bags bigger than his eyes. yeah, that wasn't a good day

but any chance he runs into you, there is a flicker of hope you could end up back together with him. so he will take all the chances life throws at him

felix

the sensitive one

similar to hyunjin only, perhaps, less severe

he cries over you often

and everything seems to remind him of you

sometimes he is okay. sometimes he is really okay. perhaps too okay. the members would look at him in surprise as he woke up one day, bubbly as ever. it's as if he hasn't been crying the whole week at all. nope. he's a new man now. and when he looks in the mirror, he gives himself a smile and a nod. "today is a new day and i'm happy."

and then a small thing will set him off all over again

perhaps he will find one of your hoodies that you lent him one night when he was cold. and he kept it because it smelt like you

but now, seeing this makes all his newfound positivity dissolve instantly. soon, he was grabbing the material of your hoodie and stuffing his face into it, sobbing his heart out

seungmin

the nonchalant one

he's the definition of unbothered

of course, it hurt at first to have to leave you, but it will all depend on the circumstances of the breakup

if you guys left each other on bad terms, he'd be a lot more bitter about it. he will most likely ignore you and make every attempt not to run into you because he just doesn't need that in his life

but if you guys are on good terms he is more likely to get over it quicker. that way, he isn't dwelling on the bad feelings and being wrapped up in his own negativity

rather, he has left that all behind and tried to be productive, focusing on himself

that way, if he happens to run into you again, he would probably feel indifferent

there is a sparkle of feeling that he misses. the feeling of familiarity that only you bring

but he hopes that most of his feelings are long gone noe

jeongin

the one that wants to forget

perhaps you were his first love

perhaps he thought that you'd end up together, forever

and ever

and ever.

perhaps he was a bit naive when it came to his approach to his relationship with you. he knew he shouldn't be thinking in such a rose-coloured, idealistic romantic way. he didn't think he'd feel like that at all. but you made his life infinitely better

and now you're gone. how is he supposed to cope?

he just wants to forget everything. forget his life with you. because if you weren't in his life anymore, what was the point?

its painful to reminisce so he makes a conscious effort not to dwell on the past

because once he does, he loses himself. the tears start to brim and flow down his cheek

if he didn't remember such happier times, it wouldn't be this hard

skz taglist: @hearts4sungie, @seokshineswiftie, @alyszaen, @jtrstp, @a-wandering-stay, @hyungenie5

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quodekash · 18 days

Text

I didnt get enough sleep last night but its not my fault qtoey fuckin kissed

hes literally the most babygirl in this entire show

HIM FRANTICALLY CLEANING UP I LOVE HIM SM

I love this more than I can ever possibly describe

it's so silly

so goofy

HES SO GOOFY

they should kiss again I think

babes your voice just got three octaves higher, do better at lying next time

who the FUCK is this guy and why is he being introduced in episode 7 of 16 (apparently 16??? it's wild that this show is supposed to be 16 episodes long (according to mdl?) cos we're not even halfway through the show and 2 out of 4 of the main couples have officially kissed, and 1 is officially together. which is insane when you think about how msp is 12 episodes long and tinngun didnt properly kiss til thE END OF THE LAST FUCKING EPISODE)

(no im never getting over this, they COULD have counted 67 FUCKING TIMES throughout the show and they fucking DIDNT)

anyway this guy is probably gonna be a main part of the drama that's gonna go down in order to keep this show long enough 😭

why cant we just keep the light and fluffy show as it is and keep spreading joy and dopamine straight to my bones

two adorable little munchkins standing next to each other

theyre my sons

THAT LITTLE GIGGLE I CANT

whAT rEAlLY???

he asked if he could hit on you, then asked if he could KISS you, AND THEN YALL FUCKIN MADE OUT IN A HAUNTED HOUSE

AND THEN WHEN YOU SAW HIM TODAY, HE MADE SILLY KISSY LIPS AT YOU

so I suggest you all give up on this "plan", and change to this real plan: march up to him, ask him out, plant a kiss on his cheek, take your fuckin artist easels and canvases to a fuckin beach at sunset, paint and make out

oml pun's an astrology girlie

HOLY FUCK ITS HAPPENING

what the fuck no why does it look like its gonna get angsty, I cant do this :(

dont make me watch toey sob, I dont want that, I want them to make out again :((

im so confused dude why is he so angry

I genuinely dont get it

I mean im watching at 2x speed so I can get through this quickly so I might've missed some dialogue somewhere or smth, but still

why's he angry

idk why he's angry but I do know one thing: satang is too fucking good at portraying anguish

im too tired to process words so im not entirely sure what he means but I think it sounds poetic so we're gonna go with that

(ahem) THATS SO BEAUTIFUL WTF

WHAT THE FUCK

brb just gonna rip my fucking SOUL out

"its like im sitting in a vast grassy field with a gentle breeze under a bright sky" OKAY WTF ARE THE GMM WRITERS READING MY TUMBLR POSTS OR SMTH

THATS LITERALLY HOW I DESCRIBED THE WAY WIN PROBABLY FEELS ABOUT SOUND

its why his heart doesnt beat fast for sound, he just doesnt have that kind of crush, its more of a relaxing crush, like a gentle breeze

ill fucking find the post if I can

I literally wrote an extended metaphor poem combined with a fic about it

what the fuck dude

if they're watching my posts then why havent they given us my satang and perth siblings agenda yet

and where is the markford series

gmm I know you're looking at this, answer my fucking questions guys

I LOVE THEIR FRIEND GROUP SO FUCKING MUCH DUDE

they all just make me so happy 😭😭😭

okay but he didnt know you were milk frappe boy when hE FUCKING MADE OUT WITH YOU IN A HAUNTED HOUSE

theyre holdin hansssss

is what I think and want to happen about to happen

that wasnt grammar but its fine

THEYF CYKING END IT THERE??

BUT HES ALL PUCKERED UP

HES READY

ALSO THEYRE IN A SCHOOL HALLWAY AND IT WOULD BE REALLY FUNNY

WTF

I HAVE TO WAIT A FUCKING WEEK TO FEEL JOY????

COME ON MAN

oh fuck yes next week theyre goi g to a volunteer camp

volunteer camp episodes are always comfort episodes so thjis is gonna be GOOD

PUN DID IT BC HE WANTS QTOEY TO SPEND TIME TOGETHER??? BRO HE'STHE WINGMAN OF ALL TIME

well anyway I just wanna see qtoey kiss again :(

ill rewatch that one scene in the meantime

buhbye for now my friends, see yous next week

#quodekash's side couple syndrome boss fight #we are the series #winnysatang #qtoey #I would tag the other ships but I like didnt talk about any of them at all in this post #winny thanawin #satang kittiphop #pond naravit #poon mitpakdee #we are series

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angelicizedeve · 10 months

Text

⋆˚✿˖° 𝙨𝙠𝙯 𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 ⋆˚✿˖°

featuring: ot8 x reader

synopsis: just some fluffy headcanons <33

word count: 0.7k

content warnings: nothing i don't think!

⋆˚✿˖° chan ⋆˚✿˖°

◦ as you probably know, this man works way too hard

◦ so it’s important that you kinda keep him grounded and remind him to take a break

◦ sometimes you’ll make him a snack and rub his shoulders, gently nudging his laptop away

◦ the two of you cook dinner together

◦ but you have to teach him how to, because he only knows how to cook CHICKEN BREAST (if you’ve seen that video of hyunjin talking about the dorms 😭)

◦ always complementing you, saying you're beautiful and perfect

◦ very very cuddly

⋆˚✿˖° leeknow ⋆˚✿˖°

◦ this man LOVES to annoy you. spamming your phone, clinging onto you like a koala bear, pointing to whatever monster is in the movie you two are watching and saying it looks like you.

◦ with that being said, he’ll still let you do whatever you want to him because he loves you so much. want to do his hair? he’ll sit like a doll for you. want to watch a cheesy romance movie? anything for you.

◦ cooks for you all the time and teaches you how to cook as well

◦ when you play with his cats it makes him melt, he’s like a proud dad

⋆˚✿˖° changbin ⋆˚✿˖°

◦ gets you flowers all the time

◦ your parents love him because he’s such a gentlemen

◦ always opening the door for you, giving you his jacket, etc.

◦ he’s not really the type to get shy, but whenever you call him and he’s around the guys he gets so blushy

◦ LOVES romance movies, i just get that feeling 😭

◦ you’d both be crying by the end at how beautiful the movie is :’)

⋆˚✿˖° hyunjin ⋆˚✿˖°

◦ treats you like a GODDESS

◦ tells you you’re beautiful like 5 times a day

◦ looks at you with so much love in his eyes it makes you nervous

◦ literally, like he always stares at you with such amazement in his eyes, you’re his dream come true and he can’t believe he managed to land someone so perfect

◦ you’re his motivation and inspiration for everything: music, poems, painting, dancing,...

◦ takes you on picnic dates, candlelit dinners, slow dancing…it’s not a surprise he’s super romantic

◦ you guys do skincare together <3

⋆˚✿˖° han ⋆˚✿˖°

◦ somehow he always convinces you to do dumb stuff with him. how? it’s a mystery

◦ lovesss to listen to your voice, please send him audio messages instead of texting

◦ whenever he finds a new cringey pick up line, he uses it on you finishing it off with finger guns and a giant smile

◦ scares you ALL THE DAMN TIME. he pops out from random corners and finds it hilarious. he always apologises for his little pranks by giving you extra cuddles

◦ gives a lot of back hugs, idk i just feel like he does

⋆˚✿˖° felix ⋆˚✿˖°

◦ felix will alwaysss be cuddling you, hugging you, holding hands, having you stroke his hair, or kissing you. it doesn’t matter, he just wants to be near you and feel you all the time.

◦ of course, he’ll always make sure you’re comfortable with it, but at this point it’s just a habit to snuggle up to you whenever the chance is presented

◦ calls you my love, sweetheart, darling, and baby

◦ prefers calling/facetiming to texting because he likes to hear your voice and see your face

◦ if he ever messes up and you two have an argument, you best believe that he’ll be on your doorstep as fast as he can, flowers in hand and a long apology prepared

◦ his clothes are 100% boyfriend material (iykyk)

⋆˚✿˖° seungmin ⋆˚✿˖°

◦ likes to annoy you part 3

◦ gives you snappy comebacks even if you’re just asking a simple question 😭. You always give him an “are you serious right now” look to which he breaks into that adorable puppy smile as an apology

◦ gets shy when he says i love you and other affectionate things

◦ he’ll leave little notes for you to find whenever he has to leave early in the morning for work

◦ he’ll stick one on your phone, the fridge, put one in your bag, etc., and sign them all with “your seungmin” with a little drawing of a puppy

◦ love love loves books and lights up whenever you ask him what he’s reading

⋆˚✿˖° i.n ⋆˚✿˖°

◦ if he stays over at your house you best believe he’s gonna forget to pack like half his stuff (i know y’all have seen that picture of what he kept in his school backpack…yeah 😭)

◦ gets you your favourite food every time he goes to the store, even if you don’t ask for it

◦ matching outfits are a yes with him

◦ lovesss hugs and holding hands <3

◦ sends you pictures throughout the day, updating you on what he’s doing - “i’m at lunch with the boys! i wish you could be here :)"

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l0uterstella · 23 days

Text

CHARCOAL WHITE: A STRUGGLING SEED

no im still not ok

full english lyrics

updated: May 11 2024

SEED CHACO

For a long time now there was the theory that Chaco is a SEED spy. This is most obvious in his color palette: black, white, gray, and a little red

The MV gives us two Chacos, one using his original sprite and the other being the new one specifically for this MV (This is the first time an MV uses both). The original Chaco sprite is mostly seen in dark backgrounds or with a dark overlay. Notice how in the 3rd picture Chaco's still the only one using that sprite

This Chaco is the seed, most obviously being seen on the 4th picture. (Side note I'm gonna attempt to be more strict in defining which glitches count as a character's "eldritch" or seed form. So far the only ones I'm sure of are Chaco and Hallritt and maybe Merold and Badobarm)

The MV also had a lot of glitches, a usual sign that a seed is present

Chaco hides this identity as a seed, only coming out at nighttime. But this hidden identity is what makes him struggle.

He wants to (at the very least) stay "gray", not good but also not evil. He doesn't want to deceive people anymore and just be himself. He thinks that his heart (the charcoal) can't be pure white or good, so he could at least stay gray. This is why he dismisses his own heart as just a piece of charcoal, he finds it unworthy of being a heart because it can't be good. It's also possible that him wanting to be good is influenced after meeting Pochacco and becoming his knight, this being his oath to him

This is a direct contrast to All So Bad. Badobarm won't allow his heart to turn black/corrupted by seeds, and Chaco, a seed, wants his heart to turn white/good

OTHER DETAILS

Astragalus or Renge Grass is mostly used as a medicinal herb. In flower language it can be interpreted as "when I am with you, my pain eases up" (credits to a jp comment i saw on youtube)

Hangyon. just hangyon. tired of this man

I don't exactly know what these could mean yet (if they do mean anything at all)? Along with all the flashing numbers and unreadable letters they just make me think of hacking or something. Feel free to reply or reblog your thoughts (mostly interested in the poem though)

The right mannequin disappears after a glitch transition. idk

#this might be my favorite theory post so far actually #I HATE NOIR BOUQUET #fragaria memories #fragmem #fragaria memories theory #noir bouquet #badobarm #chaco #hangyon

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justsomerandomfanfic · 5 months

Text

We Have Time - Tenth Doctor X GN Reader

Title: We Have Time

Tenth Doctor X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Edgar Allen Poe? (Mentioned)

WC: 2,368

Warnings: Reader has overwhelming thoughts?, depression?, Tenth Doctor may be ooc idk, flirting?, banter, sad thoughts, thoughts of death, crying, comfort, slight angst, and fluff

The Doctor was worried. Worried about you. You were somewhere in the TARDIS, and he couldn't find you for the past two hours, seventeen minutes, and six seconds; not that he was counting or anything... For him, time wasn't an issue. But he had been wandering around the TARDIS, trying to find you. He felt as if he had checked every room. every nook and cranny. Every possible place. And yet, there was no sign of you anywhere in the TARDIS.

He almost felt like giving up, almost. But as he wandered down a corridor, and turned into the next room, he let out a breath he didn't even know that he was holding. There you were, sitting in a chair reading something. Only obvious, you were sitting in the TARDIS's library. There were multiple soft throw blankets spread on top of you, draped over your lap. You looked so tired, eyes blinking slowly. He tried to ignore the fluttering of his two hearts as he walked over to you, a small smile growing on his face.

He circled around you, stopping at the back of the plush armchair, your eyes never moving or lifting from the pages of the book in your hands. From what he could guess, the book had to be pretty entertaining for you to not even notice his approach. "What are you reading?" He finally spoke up, leaning to rest his forearms against the back of the chair, looking at the book in your hand and back to your face.

At his words, you jumped slightly, one hand coming up to your chest, breathing deeply and staring wide-eyed at him before you calmed down almost instantly. You cleared your throat, closing your book and pushing it away from you onto your lap, before speaking up, voice soft, but still full of emotion, "A book with some old poems in it." You smiled softly at him before grabbing the book and showing him the cover, making the Time Lord's eyes widen.

"Oh! The Tamerlane and Other Poems!" He looked back at you, "Did you know, Edgar Allen Poe gave me that copy when I met him?" He asked, and your jaw dropped.

"You met Edgar Allen Poe?" You asked, shocked. The Time Lord nodded, and you looked down at the book again before turning your head back to him. "What was he like?" You then asked as the Doctor pushed off of the back of the couch.

"Well, why don't you see for yourself?" He asked with his usual bright grin, walking out of the room as you scrambled to uncover yourself from the blankets.

Pushing past the doorway, you huffed, "Wait, Doctor!" He was already gone. Sighing deeply, you hurried to the control room, seeing him almost press a button. "Doctor... I think I want to stay in today..." You spoke, gaining his attention.

"Stay in? Do you not want to meet him?" He asked, a bit confused.

You leaned against the console, arms crossing, "I do, but not today... If that's alright... I mean, if you need to get out and move your feet, you can go somewhere without me."

With that, the Doctor shook his head, waving his hand in the air dismissively, "No, I don't want to go anywhere without you."

Your heart seemed to skip a beat at the Doctor's words, making the corner of your lips twitch slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Positively." He answered quickly, moving around to stand beside you, mimicking your stance. "It wouldn't be as fun if I went anywhere without my favorite human." He grinned down at you.

You met his gaze, unable to stop the smile from growing on your face as you shook your head, "I'm flattered." However, as you looked off in front of you, your smile dwindled, and the shine in your eyes dimmed.

The Doctor noticed this, this shift. He had noticed for the past couple of days how your mood would change. The Doctor wondered what was going on inside your mind, what your brain was telling you to cause you to fall into a sort of depression. He frowned, eyebrows wrinkling the middle of his forehead as he stared down at you, trying to figure out what was wrong. He knew better than to crawl into your mind and find out what, so he raked through his own mind for anything that he may have said or done in the past week, month, and year, but nothing came up. If it wasn’t him, then what was it?

Looking down, he watched as your fingers seemed to grip your upper arm from where you had them crossed against your chest, knuckles whitening under the pressure. "Is something wrong?" He finally asked, his voice low, concerned.

You shook your head slowly, looking up to meet his eyes, "Nope..." You answered quietly, you couldn't lie to him. He'd find out anyway. You quickly looked away, your throat threatening to close up as your eyes burned. Your hands clenched tighter, nails digging into your skin, as you fought the urge to cry. You couldn't tell him, you couldn't risk losing him. Not now, not ever. That just wasn't going to happen. You'd only be putting more pain on yourself.

For the past week and a half, you had been worrying about the future. You spent so many sleepless nights thinking about what would happen when you got older. Would the Doctor drop you off at home once you become a liability? You weren't like him, you were going to get older and become more weak. Soon you wouldn't be able to run as fast as you could now. You'd slow him down, and endanger him in the process. And if you die, when you die, the Doctor would end up alone. You didn't want him to be alone. After everything he went through, after everything, you never wanted him to be alone. He wasn't human, you would remind yourself often. And you were human. It broke your heart.

At your silence, the Doctor sighed, pulling you gently towards him, wrapping his arms around you, and resting his cheek on your head. You froze briefly before instantly melting into him. The Doctor pulled you closer, rubbing one of his hands up and down your back. "You don't have to, but I heard that talking about your feelings helps." He whispered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath, your cheek rubbing against the soft fabric of his dark brown suit. You shut your eyes, looping your arms tightly around his midsection, hearing the beating of one of his hearts. "My brain just won't shut up." You muttered, your voice thick with frustration and sadness as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. His scent, which usually made you feel calm, comforted you, and you found that it helped you relax and focus.

He hummed softly, stroking your hair as he moved to look around the TARDIS's control room in front of him, "You humans and your complicated, squishy brains..." He spoke softly, teasingly, which made him smile as he heard your small laugh.

"You shut up." You responded, muffled by his neck. He chuckled lightly, feeling your smile against the collar of his shirt. And after a moment, you finally spoke up again, "I can't stop thinking about the future..." You began, voice soft as you shifted, moving your head to rest your cheek back on his chest. The Doctor said nothing, allowing you to continue as he continued to run his fingers through your hair. "What's going to happen when I get older?" You asked, and the Doctor hummed.

"What do you mean, love?" He asked, awaiting your answer.

You let out a deep breath, albeit shaky. "I'm going to get old... Too old to travel with you anymore."

Your words sent the room into a cold silence. Everything seemed to freeze. The Doctor tensed immediately, and all color seemed to drain from his face. He opened his mouth to speak but found himself unable to utter a single sound. He couldn't help it though, every word that escaped him sounded like a death sentence. His mind raced with thoughts of you dying. Of having to watch your body grow weaker, thinner, and shorter. You were right, you would leave him. It was only a matter of time. 'Time? He had all the time in the universe with you.' The Doctor wanted to lie to himself, but he knew that it wasn't true. You were right. He'd be forced to watch your body wither away until there was nothing left of you. Though, in the back of his mind, he knew… He knew that this conversation was going to come up sooner or later. He’d admit to himself that he did think about it from time to time.

But the Doctor didn't want it to be true. He wanted- no, needed you to be wrong. For the past year that you had been traveling with him, he couldn't imagine a life without you by his side. He loved you too much to let you go, especially when you were just starting to make real progress in your travels. He couldn't lose you. He had lost so many, but he wasn’t going to lose you. "You have time..." He eventually managed to choke out, his voice hoarse and strained as he slipped to the metal ground with you in his arms. You were practically in his lap, but neither of you said a word about it as he tightened his hold around you, digging his face into your neck. You did the same, ignoring the ground that was pushing against your legs uncomfortably. "You have time..." You finally let the tears that you were holding go, sniffling as they spilled down your cheeks.

“I don’t want you to have to see me die, D,” You muttered, “It might be better for you to just drop me off at home.”

‘Home.’ The Doctor thought. No, this was your home. The TARDIS was your home. You were his home.

Both of your collective hearts were breaking, and your heart seemed to shatter as you heard the Doctor's next words;

"This is your home…" The desperation made you break even more.

"I know," You promised, tightening your own embrace.

“I’m not taking you back there,” He muttered, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. Why would he take you back? Though the thought hurt, he knew that having you there with him, for as long as you could be, was better than none at all. “I won’t take you unless you ask me to.”

"I don’t want to leave you, Doctor, ever. Ever.” You sniffled, reaching a hand up to run your fingers through his already messy hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, “Not even when you get tired or me. I’m sorry for upsetting you… I shouldn’t have said anything."

His hold on you loosened only slightly as he pulled his head from the crook of your neck. His own eyes were wet, as he wiped away some of the tears that fell onto your face. You shut your eyes, pressing your cheek into his hand as his thumb brushed the tears away. The Doctor let out a shaky breath of his own, his eyes wandering around your features as his hand ran over your cheeks, wiping any remaining traces of your tears away.

After a few moments of staring into each other's eyes, you both slowly leaned forward and pressed your foreheads together. "I'd never get tired of you." He breathed, closing his eyes to keep any tears from falling. “And don’t apologize… I- I’m glad we talked about this.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly, "I'll never get tired of you either. If that helps." You admitted, your voice quiet and gentle. He smiled a bit at the sound of your voice, your words soothing his worries. "It would be impossible." You finished, pulling back to look at him once more.

"Exactly." He smiled warmly at you, his hands cupping your cheeks. You returned his smile with one of your own. You rested your hand atop one of his, giving it a light squeeze, "I'm simply irresistible." He murmured softly, your voice laced with amusement.

"I know," You muttered softly, reaching out to brush a stray tear from his cheek in return, "That's why I travel with you." You teased, letting out an inward sigh of relief as his smile grew wider. "That and your incredible sense of humor."

The Doctor only hummed, nodding his head as he pulled you back into his chest, allowing you to shift to more comfortably sit in his lap, snuggling against him. He rested his chin on top of your head, smiling as he felt you wrap your arms around his waist. His grin slowly fell as he spoke though, "We have time..." He muttered, "We just have to make the most of it..."

You pulled back slightly, tilting your head up, meeting his gaze. "We will." You agreed, with a nod before he pressed his lips to your forehead, making your cheeks warm once more. A small pause passed between the two of you before you broke it once more, this time speaking quietly as you reached for one of his hands and threaded your fingers through his. "Do you want to stargaze with me?" You asked, looking from your intertwined hands to look up into his dark brown eyes.

His lips curled upward in response, his grip on your hand tightening as he nodded, "Yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea." He replied, his expression turning into a bright, adoring smile. “Simply brilliant, love.”

The Doctor felt both of his hearts race as you smiled back, all the while he thought about how beautiful you looked in that moment; the TARDIS lights shining down upon you. He looked into your eyes and saw all the amazing adventures that the two of you would go on together, he saw a bright future ahead of the both of you. He was right, you both had time. All the time in the world.

#cute #fluff #x reader #slight angst #fanfiction #fanfic #x you #x y/n #x gn reader #docto who #tenth doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x gn reader #tenth doctor x you #tenth doctor x y/n #dw #doctor who tenth doctor

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hairstevington · 1 year

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Hi! I would love to see the 1st Valentine’s Day prompt(a bouquet of their favourite flowers) for steddie! Specifically Eddie bringing Steve flowers(idk why but I’m a firm believer that Steve secretly loves getting gifted flowers lol!). If you do do this thank you so much!! <3333

Ahhhhhh yes LET’S GOOOO!!! Thanks for the request! (Ao3 link here!)

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Some reeeeal fluffy shit, Eddie secretly pining over his best friend Steve, gay scheming, romance

A/N: This ended up being a bit more than just flowers, but hopefully it suffices! If anyone else is interested here is the prompt post, I also took inspiration from this cute lil post by @grandwretch :)

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Eddie always teased Steve about his romantic conquests. They frequently discussed best practices for him to woo women - including knowing their favorite color, their birthday, their favorite movie, etc. Eddie watched Steve date beautiful woman after beautiful woman, always putting in so much effort and getting so little back.

That's probably why Eddie started doing it.

"Should I get her the blue bracelet or the green one?" Steve would ask.

"I dunno man, what's her favorite color?"

"Blue. But her eyes are green."

"Get the blue. The two colors look good together anyway," Eddie answered as if he was somehow the person to ask about such things. He'd never really dated anyone, but he'd seen a lot of movies, and watched a lot of high school couples date each other.

"Thanks," Steve would say. He was always appreciative for the second opinion, even though the opinion was based on nothing.

"No problem," Eddie smiled. "Hey, what's your favorite color?"

Any time Steve asked for advice, Eddie would eventually turn it back on Steve. It was all part of his master plan, you see - he wanted to make Steve feel special on Valentine's Day. Not in a gay way, he told himself. Steve's my friend, it's not like that.

He tried to convince himself he was doing it platonically, or because it would be funny to see Steve all flustered, but deep down Eddie knew that it was far more than that.

But him and Steve were friends, and that's all they'd ever be, and he'd accepted that.

A week before Valentine's Day, there was a package on Steve's doorstep addressed to him. He wasn't expecting any mail, and the box was so haphazardly wrapped it was almost scary. Like, he was pretty sure he'd seen this exact set-up in a horror movie. Main character gets mysterious package that ends up ruining their life.

(It didn't end up ruining his life, but it sure as hell changed it)

Inside the box was a teddy bear - one of those real cutesie ones you find at a giftshop this time of year. Steve was confused, and wondered if it was even delivered to the right place - sure enough, there was a handwritten note that confirmed it. I call him Steve Bearington, it read. Steve smiled, but still had no idea who it was from. The girl that he'd gone on a few dates with could never have been responsible for the disastrous way the gift was wrapped. He shrugged. It must have been a secret admirer - he got those sometimes.

He told Eddie about it the next day, and Eddie pretended to act surprised. He didn't want to give his secret away, especially when he went so far as to ask some random person to write out the stupid note so that Steve wouldn't recognize his handwriting. He probably should have asked them to wrap it, too, but whatever. Steve was so happy about it, so Eddie continued with his plan.

Eddie learned that Steve liked sour candy over chocolate, so he got him some. Then he wrote him a poem - it wasn't, like, the greatest thing ever written, but Eddie did tend to have a way with words. He delivered the candy two days before Valentine's Day, and on the eve of the holiday he had one of his other friends discreetly stick the poem on Steve's front door and ding-dong-ditch while he and Eddie were hanging out, just to throw him off his game even more.

"Oh my god, they did it again," Steve said when he picked the poem from the door. "Who is this person?" Eddie appreciated that he said person, instead of woman.

"What does it say?" Eddie asked, biting his lip to keep from grinning. He watched as Steve read it to himself first, his brow furrowing.

"It's, uh," he said, folding it nicely and putting it in his pocket. "It's good."

Hell yeah it is, Eddie thought to himself.

Steve had a date on Valentine's Day - Eddie knew this, and it was to be expected anyway, since Steve almost always had a date on most days. He was leaving at 7, so Eddie showed up at 6.

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Steve didn't have much more to do to get ready for the date - he was already having a good hair day, and he'd picked out an outfit that had done him well in the past. He just was still caught up on who wrote him that poem.

Nobody had written him a poem before, like ever. Steve hadn't ever attempted to write one for anyone else. He wasn't that good at analyzing them in English class, so he'd grown a bit tired of poetry as a whole.

But the one left on his front door sparked a new appreciation for it.

He was confused when the doorbell rang, because he wasn't expecting anybody. Then, he wondered if maybe, he'd find another poem out there.

Instead, he found Eddie. Well, actually, he found a person standing there with flowers covering their face, but the mane of curly brown hair surrounding the flowers gave him away.

They were daisies. Eddie was probably the only person in the world that knew Steve liked daisies, and it wasn't even something he'd explicitly said. He just knew he was drawn to them when he saw them, and he'd pointed them out a few times while he was with Eddie.

"Special Valentine's delivery for Harrington!" Eddie announced, letting himself in. Steve watched as he set them on the table, confident as always, a bright smile on his face. But Steve was mostly just confused.

"What...the hell?" Eddie's bravado faltered just a little bit.

"Hasn't anyone ever gotten you flowers before?" Eddie asked.

"No, but I've bought a lot of flowers before, and -"

"Tsk tsk tsk," Eddie interrupted. "My point exactly. You deserve flowers too, Steve."

"God, what's with all the gifts from people this week?" Steve whined, completely overwhelmed. "Between this and the secret admirer thing, I just -"

Steve's head was spinning, and he wasn't the most observant person, but he did have enough sense to notice the way Eddie winced at the mention of the secret admirer.

"Yeah, well," Eddie said, his tone softer than before. "Like I said, you deserve it."

There was a thick silence as Steve realized what was happening.

"Eddie..." he said, putting it all together. Eddie was the only one who would have known to get him any of that stuff. Steve openly told Eddie all kinds of things he never admitted to anyone else, because he didn't think Eddie was paying attention. He certainly didn't think Eddie had been filing it away to do this.

"I hope you have a good date tonight," Eddie said, suddenly feeling quite stupid about this whole thing. He turned to leave, but Steve stopped him.

"The poem - you wrote it?" Eddie nodded.

Steve thought about straight-up reciting it to Eddie in that moment, to prove to him just how much he liked it. He'd read it so many times it was burned into his brain, just as he wanted it to be.

Huh.

He wasn't expecting this from his best friend, but he was shocked at how weird it didn't feel. Finding out Eddie had been his secret admirer just made sense.

"Doesn't have to be a big deal," Eddie mumbled. "I just - I don't want this to - Like, I'm sorry if -"

"I gotta go cancel my plans with Deb," Steve said.

"What?"

"She'll live. Besides, it wouldn't be that cool of me to go out with someone when I'm thinking about someone else."

"What?" Eddie repeated. He really didn't expect to get this far. "What are you saying?"

Steve smiled - his brilliant, trademark smile that always made Eddie feel warm inside.

"Do you wanna be my Valentine, Munson?"

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#ask #requests #st fanfic #stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie

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