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shanbinswf · 10 months

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HEARTBEAT — choi soobin [repost]

landing page. main masterlist.

pairing: best friend soobin x afab reader

genre: friends to lovers, mild angst, mild fluff, suggestive (mdni)

plot: soobin followed you everywhere when you were kids. you were his whole world. nothing has changed, besides the fact now he's famous and loved by many other women.

wc: 1416

warnings under the cut.

warnings: swearing, soobin is a major simp, reader gets jealous.

You first met Choi Soobin when you were kids.

He had this energetic and friendly manner about himself. He carried his head up high, but still kept to himself. He was a golden retriever in human form. And you hated that about him. You just wished for some peace and quiet, but when you saved him from the monkey bars that you were more than positive he could cross if he stopped whining like a bitch, he decided you were the one he was going to become best friends with.

Your mother thought it was endearing how much Soobin adored you. You, on the other hand, did not. You find him clingy and obsessive. You hated how he walked home with you after school and you hated how he shared his food with you. You brought your own food, and he was too skinny as it was. He needed to eat everything for himself so he could beef up his muscles.

You acted like you hated Choi Soobin, but really, when you found yourself drifting off to sleep, his face was the one you dreamed of when you wished yourself sweet and serene dreams.

When you were in high school, Choi Soobin slowly became your whole world. When you looked into his eyes as he walked you home in the rain and he looked like a drown puppy begging not to leave your side, you felt like your whole world shifted on it’s axis and the planets aligned.

No, you couldn’t say you were in love with him. Not to his face at least. But everyone else around you both saw it. Everyone saw how you looked at him when he slept on his desk, or how you defended him when someone so much as spoke a little too loud to him.

Choi Soobin was blind to your affection for him. He was used to being the one chasing you, and so when you found yourself trying (and failing) to chase him, you felt like your life had flipped.

You made a promise to yourself in your journal before bed the night you realised you loved him. Before you hit the age of thirty, you were going to confess to Soobin, have an epic love story and remain a happy married couple until the end of time.

But of course, nothing ever works out how it does in the journals.

Soobin had grown up into a very fine young man, your mother had told you over dinner just hours earlier. And you very much agreed with her.

You never saw your best friend becoming an idol, but as you stood in the crowd of his show watching as he performed on stage for what felt like hundreds of people, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride in your heart for him.

Oh, how your sweet Soobin had grown up.

Of course, you had too. Sure, you weren’t famous like your friend was, but you still had a decent job with decent pay. You had a decent apartment and a decent car. You lived life to its bare minimum, sure, but you were content in life.

Bar one thing.

Choi Soobin still wasn’t your boyfriend.

The words ‘I like you’ didn’t come very easy to you, so while you pined after him every day of your life, Soobin seemed to either not notice, or not care.

You heard a loud scream of Soobin’s name and rushed to hold a hand to your ear for much needed protection. There were a group of girls beside you, maybe your age, give or a take a year to two. The one closest to you was the one screaming for your best friend.

At first, you found it sweet he had a fan that seemingly adored him so much. You wished him all the adoration in the world. You knew you adored him the most out of all other people, so what was there to contend with?

But then she began to speak to her friends about Soobin, and your ears became laser focused on the conversation.

“I’m going hotel hopping later to try and find where the boys are staying,” The girl’s voice was shrill and loud, gritting you right to the core in all the worst ways imaginable. It was giving you a migraine each time she spoke, you were beginning to believe.

“What will you do if you find their hotel? You won’t leak it, right? I heard they like to hang out with their fans on their down time, if you know what I mean,” One of the other girls giggled obnoxiously. Your hands turned into fists at your side. Sure, they didn’t know who you were, but still. You were right there.

You pulled a face of disgust but the girls beside you paid no attention and kept up their conversation.

“Of course I’ll leave Taehyun to you, but I’m going to get Soobin drunk and take him to his hotel room to loosen up. Poor tall baby has been working so hard and he looks so tired,” The girl faux pouted, and it made you want to gag.

Gross.

Your mind spat angrily, ‘as if Soobin would ever get with a girl like you,’ but your face turned stoic as you turned away from the group of giggling fangirls. You left the venue, just wanting some fresh air.

You had seen his shows before.

But you made another promise to yourself as you hailed a taxi and pulled up the location of his hotel.

You were going to confess to him once and for all, and tonight, you were going to lay claim on Choi Soobin as your boyfriend.

You were the first one to the hotel, of course. You got to his room with the key he had given you before the show and you laid on his bed in one of the t-shirts you found lazing in his suitcase.

You sighed as you flipped from your side to your back, your phone held tight in your hand as you looked up tweets of Soobin from the show. The show had ended and he was due to come back at any second—

The door opened, right on time.

You sat up against the headboard and smiled wide when Soobin’s face finally appeared. The fangirls were right, he did look tired. He didn’t even care to take off his shoes as he just flopped onto the bed face first beside you, one of his hands resting over your thighs.

“I’m so tired,” Soobin confirmed, but turned his head so he could look at you. You moved one hand to his hair, stroking the strands gently.

“I know, you did so well though. You should get into some comfortable clothes and go to sleep. I can leave if you like?” You offered, hoping he would reject.

“No!” He leant up on his elbows instantly, his lips jutting out in a pout. “Don’t want you to go,” He continued, his hand lazily rubbing the side of your thigh.

Your heartbeat raced and your face felt hot, but you just simply nodded and pulled your phone back upon to your face to keep reading the fans reactions to the man who lay beside you.

Soobin didn’t like that your attention was diverted, so he crawled up the bed and pushed his head between your arms before he finally rest his head on your chest, his hands moving to grip your hips.

Good God, this man had no idea how much he had an effect on you. You didn’t even want him at this rate, you needed him.

“I’m so in love with you,” He said softly, his voice sounding as if he was about to drift off into dreamland.

You smiled and kissed the top of his head. “So am I,” You replied to his confession for the first time in your life with sincere words instead of your usual verbal assaults that he was being ‘clingy’.

His eyes widened as he pulled back from your chest. He stared down at you with wide eyes, his lips tugging at the corner as he tried to will himself not to smile. “What did you just say?” He asked.

“I said I’m in love with you too,” You spoke casually as if you heart wasn’t about to blow up in your chest.

Soobin leant down and pressed his lips to yours. Finally, he thought. I got the girl.

#txt #txt smut #txt scenarios #soobin #txt soobin #txt choi soobin #choi soobin #txt soobin smut #soobin smut #soobin scenarios

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mx-rh · 5 months

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Hi @taylorswift,

I don’t really know why I feel such a need to write to you, but I’m gonna do it because then maybe I’ll be able to get on with the other shit I need to do today (honestly thank goodness for writing when it comes to needing to just empty your thoughts into something so you can get the hell on with just life!)

Anyway, I’m not going to say that I’ve been a long time fan - the truth is, I really haven’t. In fact when I was growing up I found myself in an ‘emo kid’ phase, and I never really grew out of that, but looking back now as a 31 year old, isn’t it mad that people judge the music you listen to because of how you dress? Or the make up you wear? Or the way you style your hair? Growing up, I’m pretty sure I actively didn’t listen to your music to keep up an image that was expected of me because I wore black and had lip piercings. Life is wild. I feel like you’re doing your bit to break the walls between genres down. I think that’s all music is for everyone, and people shouldn’t be judge for what they love, so on behalf of younger kids that are finding their way, their style, thank you.

That’s the first of many thank yous I have for you and your music in recent months actually…

I’ve always struggled with my mental health, from health anxiety, eating disorders, gender dysphoria, ocd, ptsd, dissociation…therapy helps but occasionally, things will pile up so much that I find myself needing something so completely removed from who I believe I am to just feel some kind of relief from everything. This happened not too long ago, and the I found the relief I needed in your music. It took me to somewhere so completely new and unfamiliar, it was like my mind was taking a vacation to an unknown and unexplored world and my god did it need it, to just not be in reality for a little while. Thank you for providing me with my means of escape.

I didn’t expect, though, to come face to face with so many of my experiences that had been so unapproachable in me.

I didn’t expect to cry for the first time about the passing of one of my Nans when I first heard Marjorie. Along with my mum, I was a carer for my Nan while she was living with dementia. She lived with us, and she died with us in our family home, but what hurt most was losing her so many months before she died. She was the bravest, most incredible, feisty, funny and full of life person I’ve ever known, and seeing that person fade away in front of my eyes was heartbreaking, but instead of grieving I locked it away, I had to look after my mum. I think about my Nan every day now, she is alive in my head, thank you for bringing her back to me.

I didn’t expect to scream into my pillow after hearing Death By A Thousand Cuts because it took me to a past relationship that was so mentally, physically and sexually abusive that I almost didn’t make it out, to a court case that I lost, and to a part of me that the closest people in my life now don’t know about because it’s been stored so deeply within me that some days I could almost get by without it affecting me in some way. It came right to the front of my mind, and I was able to go to my therapist who helped me to safely resolve things in a way that allows me to be live with it as part of my story without it ruling over my life. Thank you for being the catalyst that I needed to push through that trauma.

I didn’t expect to come out of the Eras Tour Film the week that the UK government announced its anti-trans policies and plans feeling powerful in my skin as a trans non-binary person. I was inspired by your commitment to diversity and inclusion within your performers, and at a time when I felt scared and unable to safely be myself, seeing lgbt representation on your stage reminded me that I am strong and I am human and I deserve to be here and respected in whatever form I choose. That week, I launched an lgbt social platform that is providing a safe space for the community to be who they are without question. Thank you for giving me the strength to make a difference.

I didn’t expect to hear Soon You’ll Get Better and think about my Auntie and other Nan who were both fighting cancer at the same time and died within 6 months of each other, my Auntie first and then my Nan. At the time this happened, I was trying to get through my last year uni, I was by myself without my family around me, and I had to shut the locked the grief so that I could focus on pushing forward. I passed uni but I failed to keep the grief out, I became so terrified of losing loved ones that I shut everyone out, and as a result I ended up losing the part of myself that new how to love those around them, and be loved in return. Even in my relationship I struggled until recent months to truly let myself just be present within it. This song helped me to process what happened in a safe way and bring them parts of me out again. Not long after, I proposed to be partner, she said yes, we’re all in, both of us together, thank you for renewing my ability to love, and be loved.

Today I on the second of 2 charity challenge days, during which I’m rebuilding the website for a charity called Swings and Smile, who work to improve the quality of life for disabled children and their families. As a marketer and web developer, I try to help out where I can with small businesses and non-profit organisations. Swings and Smiles have looked after my partners sister, Katie, for many years. Katie is an incredible kid with various additional needs, and she gets so much joy being at the centre. It’s been a pleasure so far working on a new website for them that will (hopefully!) increase their exposure and support levels, but sitting down for 16 hours each day for two days to get the site done is difficult. Your music has been on repeat in the background the whole time, and it’s kept me focused on this project that means so much to so many. Thank you keeping me company and keeping me working hard for those that need me to be.

So much has happed over the past few months for me, and it’s mad to think that it could all be down to one person who is an actual stranger and their music. And yet here I am completely in awe of the effect the right words can have when they’re heard at the right time. I don’t really know if there is a right time to deal with stuff like this, but your words helped to make the the last few months the right time for me. Little by little that locked chest opened to reveal so many dark rooms within me that had been gathering dust. Now, they’re starting to come to life with light, even if right now it’s a little dim, it’s a step in the right direction.

Thank you for putting your experiences out there for those of us that need something to relate too. Thank you for working relentlessly despite the difficulties you’ve faced because you’re making people like me work harder towards things that matter. Thank you for sticking around in the music industry for long enough that this 31 year old could find your music after passing it up for so many years.

I hope you are safe and well. I hope your fur babies are doing well, my 3 cats, Cody (grey), Dexter (black), and Sprite (ginger) are all asleep in their favourite spots right now, none of which are any of the many beds we’ve bought them!

I have tickets to one of your London shows next year, I’m so excited to see you! And, while I’d love to hear back from you just to know that you know that I am 5ever grateful for what you’ve done for me in such a short time, at least I know for sure I’ll be able to get on with the rest of my stuff now I’ve written this all down!

Robyn x

@taylornation

#taylor swift #taylornation #TaylorSwift #Taylor Nation #ts #thank you taylor #cats for good measure #please get this to taylor

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softersinned-arc · 2 years

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i’m sleepy and my brain’s turned off but a few little notes—

i initially said that i don’t think vampire astoria would turn anyone; i was wrong. she has two daughters, one she adopted and one she turned, and she absolutely adores both of them. she’s closest to her adopted daughter. i’ll write a little post about the both of them eventually, but this is a quick rundown.

beyond those two, it’s very rare that she form enough of an attachment to a human to want them around for that long.

she has complicated feelings abt motherhood in any universe. this one is no different. her own mother all but abandoned her; her vampire mother tortured her and left her for dead; she watched her first vampire sibling die a slow and agonizing death, again at their mother’s hand. she doesn’t know how to do it.

her adopted daughter came first, but not by much—a maid in a household she & baldwin were visiting, fairly clearly being abused by her employer. when she killed him, she went to astoria in a panic, and astoria staged the scene to look as though she had been the one to kill him in self-defense. her wealth & status meant that the man’s family was eager to keep it quiet, and astoria and baldwin quietly left the city; when they returned about twenty years later they found that the poor girl had been turned and abandoned, and was wasting away in a women’s asylum after a failed suicide attempt. astoria killed a few members of the staff, who very much deserved it, before taking her new daughter home safely.

her second daughter just straight-up wanted to be a vampire. they met about ten years later; she was a governess who had nothing of her own and was utterly at the mercy of an employer, a father, a brother, maybe someday a husband. she had no money of her own, she had no means of protecting herself, and she was desperate to pursue an education in music but was forced to make a living teaching the irritating children of wealthy families. she and astoria get along beautifully, and are very fond of each other, but she’s far more independent than her sister and is more comfortable venturing far from home. she��s currently a violinist with the staatskapelle dresden.

and a few notes on astoria herself—

as a witch living in venice she was acquainted with domenico michele, mostly through her grandfather. he was the one to tell her of how her grandfather died, years and years after the fact, though she knew from the moment leonardo rescued her that he was dead.

she doesn’t actually know when she was turned. she thinks it was 1547, shortly before christmas; she’d been taken in early february 1547, a matter of days after henry viii’s death. she doesn’t celebrate a birthday for her turning, given what a spectacularly traumatizing event it was, but she does (privately) celebrate the day she was rescued: 7 april 1556.

she’s silent, completely silent, for nearly two years after her rescue. she doesn’t speak, she doesn’t seem to hear or acknowledge anyone, she mostly just sleeps, and sits in the dark, and feeds when food is brought to her. this is punctuated by screaming fits and violent rages in which she breaks just about everything she can get her hands on. this is part of why leonardo doesn’t trust her to hunt alone for nearly a decade, and even after that, he keeps a very close eye on her. this is largely due to the grief she experiences over having lost her life, her community, her magic, her grandfather, and her vampire sister. beyond that it’s her own fury at not having been able to fight back, and fear of it happening to her again.

she has really complicated feelings about evander. while evander doled out most of the physical abuse before elyssa was turned, and was a very willing participant after the fact, she thinks that he was, for the most part, weak. and in his mind, she thinks he probably did love her, and see her as family; he just was perfectly comfortable treating family that way. evander’s death is a quick one, in part because she’s never killed a vampire before and she doesn’t want to run the risk of losing him, and in part because she doesn’t know if it really gives her anything if he suffers.

elyssa suffers, though. elyssa suffers soooooo much. astoria’s actually pretty proud of just how creative she was with elyssa’s death.

elyssa made four other vampires before her death, all sons. two she killed herself when they got out of hand, and two who survived her: reza, who became the head of the family, and mikhail. they do not consider astoria their sister, nor does astoria consider them her brothers. she and reza get along well enough, but mikhail does not forgive her for elyssa’s death; mikhail ends up getting killed under mysterious circumstances, and reza isn’t particularly bothered, though he does suspect it was astoria’s doing.

(it super was.)

#i. she had a marvelous time ruining everything. ( about )

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

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Ok, I’ve tried and tried and tried to write this fic because I see it so clearly in my mind but it’s just not going no matter what I do. But I don’t want the idea to die with me. The closest this came to being written was exile which was an attempt to bleed out some of the energy of this au.

Anyway, so it starts off vaguely similar to canon only more aggressive. There had been underlying tension between ghosts and humans for a while, the dead jealous/angry at the living for disrespecting them. The successful creation of the Fenton ghost portal (and another halfa) was considered an act of war and so the ghosts responded in kind. So basically all of S1 occurs fairly close to canon except ghost attacks are more violent and have increasingly more consequences as time passes. Also the attacks aren’t just in Amity Park with ghosts becoming a worldwide issue but Amity is a focal point. Regular people know the ghosts hate them though they don’t know why. Phantom is very much a controversial figure as he is a ghost but also clearly is fighting off the more violent ghosts.

One day, not long after the events of Control Freaks, Amity Park wakes up to find three of their own are gone. Danny Fenton, Sam Manson and Tucker Foley are nowhere to be found. There’s a massive manhunt, the parents go on TV and beg for information but they cannot be found. Curiously enough, town hero Phantom was also missing. There’s some evidence they left of their own volition so the Mansons and Foleys eventually relent that the kids fled on their own. The Fentons are 100% certain the kids were stolen/killed by ghosts as a statement. And the fact that Phantom went missing around the same time means he was the one who killed them. Jazz knows Danny was Phantom but had no idea what was going on and knew her parents wouldn’t listen she just, kept quiet and privately tried to piece together what happened.

Three years pass and finally it looks like the Ecto War is coming to a close. Young, naive ghosts attempted to raise Pariah Dark in a bid to win. It went disastrously but Phantom (who was periodically spotted around the world, deep in the worst battles of the war) and group of loyal allies subdued the king. By the law of ghosts, Phantom was named heir apparent and he declared that the fighting would stop. Humans and ghosts would have to negotiate and co-exist in peace. But he’s not king yet, no he needs to be crowned at the place where it began, Amity Park’s Fenton portal (”where it all began” has a double meaning of the beginning of the war but also symbolically where Phantom began as Kings assume the crown where their living life ended to show their abandonment of their first life and the commitment to their second). Amity is NOT happy to hear that their former hero is coming home.

Amity has been through the wringer, ghost attacks got pretty bad. The Fenton’s throw themselves into their work to cancel out the grief, they create a group of ghost hunters nicknamed the Reds (for their red blood, ghosts are nicknamed Greens) to control the threat. Valerie heads the young adult division and is considered one of the best, she drops out of school to devote herself to it full time. Oh also her dad is now the Mayor as most have died or didn’t want the job. There are still people who like Phantom and see him as a hero (a lot of Casper Kids) but it’s generally an unpopular opinion in town. Maddie and Jack are ready to obliterate the ghost that took their son’s life the moment he’s within city limits. It’s a powder keg ready to blow. It all comes to a head when Phantom and his entourage arrive.

First off, Phantom looks very different, much less human looking than when he left. He’s clearly aged like a normal teen but his eyes look much, much older. His skin is dead white with a blue tinge to it from his ice core and his aura is super cold. His hair is longer and is very misty that kind of swirls around him and his has fangs and claws. When he’s deep in battle or his obsession, his sclera turn black and he looks scary af. His entourage is ghosts who have sworn loyalty to him, who he picked up along the way after battling beside them for 3 years. Fright Knight, Skulker and Frostbite are recognizable allies. They are not happy that their future King is back in Amity (secretly fearing they’ll lose him once more to his human life). J&M have a shot and are going for the kill when they see something that shocks them; Sam and Tucker are in Phantom’s entourage.

There had been whispers that Phantom interacted with humans, that humans were in his inner circle but this is something else together. And so are Sam and Tucker. Sam is Phantom’s General, she is talented and collected and half feral. She used to be a pacifist but the trials of war and understanding that peace sometimes needs to be fought for made her compromise. She’s covered in scars and an extremely talented fighter. She’s missing her right hand up to her forearm, she can form a ‘phantom limb’ (basically borrowing ectoplasm from her future ghost) to do some things with some powers. Tucker is the support, he uses human and ghost tech to organize, weaponize and generally keep things running. He’s covered in homemade tech (shields and weapons and computers) and he rarely removes. Both he and Sam have kinda forgotten how to interact with and really BE human after so long among the dead. They had attempted to conceal themselves but they had forgotten how strong parental love and recognition is. J&M want to know about Danny, the teens don’t know how to respond but assure them he’s alive. Phantom can’t bring himself to look at them.

This is where I start to lose track of things but there will be parallels of Valerie/Maddie vs Sam as female warriors on opposite sides who are willing to go behind, possibly compromising the things important to them, for victory. Tucker will be contrasted against Jack/Jazz as the one making weapons but also generally keeping the human parts of the team mentally/physically afloat. *Severe* PTSD for all three of them. They’re also unnaturally codependent on each other, get super anxious when one of the trio is out of sight and sleep in a big cuddle pile. They will fucking Kill You if you look at one of them wrong. Vlad will be involved, he had been jailed for war crimes but convinced Walker to stage a coup to overthrow Danny and take the crown before he’s actually declared King and is too powerful. Vlad is more unhinged here, more ghost than human (a hint on what could happen to Danny if he’s not careful). He is eventually defeated but he sacrifices his life for ghost power which, in the end, is what makes him able to be beaten.

There’s lots of ideas on what it means to be live or dead and where the divide really is, is it a heartbeat or it is how you choose to use your existence. On how duty shouldn’t mean you need to give up everything. Because Jack and Maddie believe that Phantom killed their son and, in a way, they’re right. Before they left, the ghost war had gotten so bad and the rumors of Dark being resurrected were going around. Amity attacks were at an all time high, people in their school were being killed just because Danny went there. He realized he had to choose between Fenton or Phantom and he chose to protect the world. He abandoned his human identity and went off to fight in war. Tried to convince Sam and Tucker to stay but they followed him through hell and back. Because Danny spends so much time as Phantom, Fenton is severely neglected. His long hair is cool and floaty as Phantom but is unkempt and stringy, hanging in his face as Fenton. He’s wan and underweight and looks like a walking corpse. He knows his human half will give out soon if he doesn’t give it more attention but he just can’t there’s too much to do, too many people to save.

It would end with Danny being outed to the town, not the world, just the town. Jack and Maddie need to recon with the fact that their boy DID leave of his own choice but only because their failure to protect him (from both the portal and ghosts) made him feel he had to take all this responsibility on his shoulders. Danny also has to recognize that he (and Sam/Tuck) can’t do all this on their own and they can trust and rely on the people around him. Phantom is crowned King but he decides Amity will be his base. The trio eat more, sleep some, catches up on school all the while continuing their duties as King and court. The ghosts also see that Phantom’s humanity isn’t a weakness but a strength and will bring peace to the Earth/Zone so they also take some of the burdens off his shoulder.

Basically I load up heavily with angst at the beginning and end with all the love and comfort imaginable. I just can’t fucking figure out the middle and my motivation will not let me write this shit out. But I can’t let this AU die bc it fucking keeps me up at night.

#behind me dips eternity #god I want to write this but its just not going #Ive been trying for over a month #I cant finish the outline #I've only gotten a paragraph into actually typing #but there are so many vivid images from this fic that live rent free in my head #was lowkey thinking of comissioning an artist to depict Danny bc I've tried and its not coming out right and it drives me INSANE #bc this world is very vivid to me #i love it even if it hurts me #anyway here's wonderwall

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heliads · 3 years

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Touch-starved

Based on this request: “after getting close to the reader before the Orpheum through writing sessions and such and hating the fact that they “couldn’t touch”... well now that Julie freed them from Caleb... it’s game over now and Luke uses every chance he gets to express his love for y/n.”

masterlist

You sit on the edge of your bed, legs pulled up around your chest. A never ending stream of tears leaks from your eyes, and you stare unseeingly at your feet. It’s over now, isn’t it? Luke is gone, and there’s no coming back from this. Not ever.

You had thought that he might be coming back just once, when Julie walked out onto the stage of the Orpheum. You think you might have been one of the only people in the audience to see the red rims of her eyes, and realize that she would be alone for that performance. Had the boys crossed over already? You never even got the chance to say goodbye.

Then they had appeared, bursting into existence on the stage in time to the music. Luke had been there too, and you’d watched with bated breath as he flickered in and out of sight before finally making it through, away from whatever was holding him back to stay decisively with his band. You had allowed yourself a sigh of relief, the hope that he might have finally completed his unfinished business and be allowed to stay with you.

Even the thought of Luke makes you break out into a fresh wave of sobs. How long had it been since you had met him? Two weeks? Three? It didn’t really matter- it still wasn’t enough time. He had burst into your world in a splash of color and music, bringing with him endless memories and good times. At first, he’d been mainly concerned with your best friend, Julie, but after he realized your skill at songwriting, he started dropping by your house too.

Then ten minute writing sessions became half an hour, and you started visiting Julie’s studio to hear Luke play and offer advice. They became more frequent, a part of your life that you grew to depend on just like food or drink. You became close friends, and then even that wasn’t enough for the two of you. You’d look up from your notebook to see a pair of warm brown eyes hurriedly glancing away, a blush starting to form on his cheeks. You’d stare at the way his hair fell in his face and the curve of his hand as he pushed it away. You knew it when time seemed to pass far faster with him than anywhere else, or when all your songs seemed to be about him. You knew then that you loved him.

You were afraid to say anything about it, too terrified to lose those golden hours in the brightly lit studio and dark, star-studded nights. When he first told you that he loved you too, you weren’t sure what to say. Could it ever be true that Luke, this boy full of sunshine and overwhelming happiness, would ever fall for a girl like you? Yet it was, and you loved him all the more for it.

Like it or not, there was always something hovering in the corner of your mind every time his hand brushed over yours just to pass through it, or when you turned to see Luke staring at your lips, knowing that there was nothing he could do. In the end, Luke was a ghost and you were human. No amount of love could change that, although the two of you certainly gave it your best try.

But none of that mattered now, did it? You’d take a thousand missed kisses, a hundred lingering stares just to have him back. You had looked up when the boys disappeared after their final bow, and seen the look on Julie’s face. The two of you had locked eyes, and that one stare communicated a thousand words and pains, all saying the same thing. They’re gone. They won’t come back, not this time.

You knew that if you were a good friend, you would have gone to talk to Julie after her concert, but you just couldn’t bear it. You did talk to her, technically, you gave her a hurried hug and brief exclamations of pride over her performance. You both knew it was only superficial, like if you focused on the songs themselves you wouldn’t have to think about the fact that the boys were truly gone from you. She understood, and she had pulled you tight one last time before you disappeared, both of you mourning silently for the bandmates never to be seen again.

You had driven home silently, flying up the stairs and closing your bedroom door behind you with a click. Only then, with the door firmly shut and with yourself finally alone did you let the tears come. They washed over you in waves, racking your body in sobs. You missed Luke, missed him more than everything. You’ve never loved anyone like you love Luke. Loved Luke. Now he’s gone, and you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with yourself.

So you sit alone, crying your heart out. The tears have subsided a little bit. Gone are the loud sobs, replaced instead by inaudible agony. In a way, the silence hurts even more. There’s a sound behind you, the click of your window sliding open. You don’t bother to turn around, speaking to the person with your back facing them. “I’m sorry, Julie, but I really can’t talk right now.” You continue nursing your tissue box, but freeze when you hear a new voice instead.

“I’m not Julie, Y/N.” Your eyes widen, and you whirl around to see him. Luke. Can it really be Luke? You stand up hesitantly, your knees buckling. In the back of your mind you realize you must be a mess, with your teary eyes and everything, but none of that matters. The only thing that’s worth a fragment of your time is the fact that the boy you love is here, and walking towards you. “Luke?”

He smiles. “Guilty as charged. Oh, and I’ve got one last trick up my sleeve.” You frown at him, confused, and then he reaches out and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to him. Stunned into silence, you return the embrace, burying your face against his shoulder. Your hands clasp around his back, and it takes everything in you to just stand there.

After a moment that seems more like a year, he leans away, tracing your cheek gently with his hands to wipe away your tears. “You don’t have to cry anymore, Y/N. I’m here. I promise.” You shake your head slowly in bewilderment. “How is this possible? I mean, you’re here, and I can-” You break off, unable to think about anything more than his hand on your cheek, your palm pressed up against the curve of his back.

Luke smiles slightly, the corners of his mouth sliding up. “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m here with you, and that’s more than I can ask for.” He looks at you for a moment, then leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips. You feel your heart race in your chest, and kiss him back.

After that, you feel like you’re on top of the world. You have Luke, even when it seemed like you’d never see him again. You find yourself making excuses to drop by the studio and feel his kiss on your cheek, to walk home with him, hands linked together, to do anything and everything with him.

On one of these days, you’re stretched out on the faded sofa in Julie’s studio, brow furrowed as you study your math notes. There’s a test tomorrow, and you’d be a lot more miserable were it not for the fact that your legs are draped across Luke’s lap, his hand tracing idle patterns into your skin as he considers his battered songwriting notebook.

Luke must feel your gaze lingering on him, because he looks up with a grin. “Hey, I know I’m good-looking and everything, but I think you should be focusing more on your math. That’s what you said you needed to do, isn’t it?” You feel your cheeks burning and roll your eyes, pretending to be unaffected. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. If anything, I should go study somewhere else so I don’t have to be distracted by your, uh, hideousness.”

Luke laughs, the sound ringing like a bell in the empty studio. “My hideousness?” You nod. “Yes. I know it can be hard to hear, but-” Luke leans forward, cutting you off with a kiss. He pulls away, noting the blush spreading about your cheeks with a grin. “You still sure about that?” You huff in irritation and look away, but can’t help a grin.

It is a frigid November afternoon, and a walk through the neighbourhood on the way to Julie’s house has only made you even colder. Rubbing your arms in an attempt to keep warm, you open the studio doors and slip inside, where it’s not much better than the outdoors. You don’t see anyone inside, so it looks like you’ll be waiting for at least a little longer.

You glance around, hoping to see a blanket or something to keep you warm, but your eyes fall instead on a flannel jacket. It’s brown and soft, tossed casually across a chair. Nobody’s here, and you’re absolutely freezing, so you put your backpack down on the ground, picking up the jacket and sliding your arms into it. The flannel is warm, and you wrap it around yourself, breathing in the familiar scent.

You’re only in the studio for a few moments longer when Luke poofs into the room. He spies you and grins, heading towards you with a flurry of conversation. “There you are, Y/N! I was hoping you’d drop by. Alex and Julie just came up with this amazing idea for a song, it’s got a good melody but I know you’d come up with some killer lyrics if you heard it, and-”

His words die off as he comes to a stop in front of you. “Is that my jacket?” You glance up at him, then back at the flannel still wrapped around you. Your hands fly to the sleeves, and you start to tug it off. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. It was really cold, and it was the closest thing and-” Luke’s hands cover yours, stopping you from removing the coat. “No, it’s fine.”

He grins at you. “Looks good on you.” His hands leave yours, traveling up to rest instead on the curve of your hips as he pulls you close to him. Your hands thread in the soft curls of his hair as he kisses you. You’re beginning to think that you could stay here forever, but then you hear the faint sounds of commotion drifting up from the area outside the studio doors, and Luke groans softly.

“That’s the boys.” You pull away, laughing at the disappointed look on his face. “They’re your friends, try not to look so sad about it.” Luke reaches for your hands again, slowly running his thumb against the curves of your wrist. You shiver slightly, although this time it has nothing to do with the cold. Alex and Reggie are getting closer to the studio, so Luke presses one last kiss to your forehead before it’s too late. “Tell me when you’re ready to leave so I can walk you home?” He mumbles against your cheek, and you nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. This moment, right here, so close to Luke? You wouldn’t trade it for anything, and you know right then that you’ll be in love with him forever, as long as he stays by your side and you stay by his. Forever sounds good to you.

#luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagines #jatp #jatp imagine #jatp x reader #jatp imagines #jatp luke #jatp luke imagine #jatp luke x reader #jatp luke imagines #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #sunset curve

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notepadsandtealeaves · 2 years

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Koutaro Bokuto || Kiss Kiss, Fall in Love 🍃

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

|| ao3 version | series m.list | hq tag | main blog ||

What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? // No love, my love… // All mine was thine before thou hadst this more. –Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all || W. Shakespeare

↠ A love story as told through kisses…

↠ Requested By: Nobody, I just had an ~i d e a~, Mr. Krabs ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: SFW floofy-floof ((but my blog’s 18+ so if minors want to consume my sfw stuff while still respecting my wishes of them staying out of this space, they can head over to my AO3)) ↠ Chronology: Pre and post time skip. ↠ CWs/TWs: I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: Tetsurou Kuroo is his own gd warning. And this time the asshole’s brought friends. They’re a bunch of little shits, but like it’s for the good of your love life lmfao. Also a legit warning for mentions of food and eating in the ‘Volleyball Kiss’ section. ↠ No betas—we die like grammatically incorrect men here. ↠ Total WC: 5.9k~

Long time no see!

November was very… let’s say annoying—yeah, that’s a good word for it lol. Cue me writing comfort ficlets for myself featuring Actual Human Sunshine Koutaro Bokuto because he’s got the type of energy I need to get through these trying times lol…

Needless to say, I am a Stage 3 simp for this pretty owl boy (as well as childhood friends to lovers vibes), and I’m totally okay with that. I will now leave you to (hopefully) enjoy the fruits of said simping lol…

🍃 First Kiss

Eyes on You || WC: 3.3k~

You fly into the body before you with curses spat out from between gritted teeth, damn near snarl when you hear the raucous laughter that echoes through the door that slams behind you in nearly the same moment. No doubt they’ve barred the thing from the outside, wanting to keep you in for their twisted amusement just as much as their safety, the absolute assholes.

Oh, somebody’s gonna pay royally for this one—several somebodies, in fact—but you’ll have time to exact your revenge later. For now your main concern is extracting yourself from the person that’s holding you up without accidentally copping a feel. Easier said than done, that, given just how damn thick he is.

Even at sixteen Koutaro Bokuto is nearly six feet and two hundred pounds of pure muscle; the sheer size of him makes it all but impossible to touch him without feeling like you’re groping him at least a little, but then again it really all comes down to intent, you suppose. And you certainly have no designs on him like that. Which isn’t to say that you don’t find him attractive, quite the opposite in fact, it’s just that you’re not a creep about it–

Though he’s probably thinking otherwise, given the way you’re acting right now. At the very least he thinks you’ve gone a little bit feral…

You stop hissing out profanities and half formed threats just long enough to mutter an apology as you finally untangle yourself before moving as far back as the closet’s limited space will allow for (which isn’t much given the fact that it’s, yanno, a fucking closet).

Fuck that rooster-haired motherfucker for throwing this damn party in the first place. All that ��building cohesion between teams’, ‘prefecture solidarity’ bullshit was just an excuse to get on some fuck-shit, as per usual. And doubly fuck Konoha for suggesting that you tag along. “Finals have been rough on us all, but you especially need to loosen up, Manager-chan. I’m just looking out for you!”—yeah, okay. And definitely fuck Yamamoto’s thirsty ass for suggesting you all play some seven minutes in heaven/spin the bottle hybrid.

And hell, while you’re at it, the universe can kiss your entire ass too. If it wasn’t so clearly using those closest to you to conspire against you, you wouldn’t be trapped in Kuroo’s janky little coat closet with the guy you’ve spent the better part of the last year actively crushing on.

You don’t even know when you started to catch feelings for Kou. You’ve known him for most of your life, so there’s a chance that it’s all some great and inescapable inevitability or something equally kismeic; or maybe it’s something less flowery and abstract, a base attraction driven by teenage hormones and proximity. You can’t rightly say one way or another, but what you very much do know is that once you found out life got a whole hell of a lot harder.

Koutaro Bokuto is just so… everything you could ever want in a boyfriend, really.

Aside from the obvious physical appeal, he’s honestly one of the best people you know. He’s caring, sweet, kind, funny, giving oftentimes to a fault… He’s always there to cheer you on with that heart-stopping grin of his, always the first one to extend a hand and a word of encouragement whenever they’re needed, or a shoulder to cry on when you have to let it all out. Honestly when you stop to think on it, it’s not even surprising that you fell for him—what’s actually weird, in your extremely biased opinion, is how there aren’t more people fawning over him.

Sure, he gets a fair bit of attention for what he’s able to do on the court, but that’s all superficial. The few admirers that he’s attempted to pursue a relationship with never really wanted him in truth. They only ever wanted the convenient parts—the infectious joy and seemingly endless laughter and the clout that came with being so closely associated with a guy that was very clearly going places. But when it came to his other side—the hard crashes in mood and energy both, the ‘himbo’ moments that saw him occasionally misstepping, that single minded drive that so often tunneled his vision down to volleyball at the detriment of everything else—they couldn’t hang.

It always hurts, seeing him come back to you with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs, but in true Bokuto form he always bounces back with a few well-placed words of praise and reassurance. Still, you know that it has to be taking a toll on him, it certainly is on you. How many times can you assure him that there’s someone out there for him that will accept him for all that he is and is not before your true feelings come tumbling out? Or worse yet before he finds that in someone that isn’t you?

That fear runs deeper and colder than even that of rejection, but despite it all you’ve still yet to gather the courage to tell him the truth. And so you hide it all away instead, waiting until you think yourself strong enough—brave enough—to throw all caution to the wind and properly confess.

Being as close as you are, it hasn’t been easy to keep your feelings to yourself, but you’ve been managing to hold your own. Mostly. Really it’s only Koutaro himself that’s unaware of your feelings, as literally everyone else that spends more than five minutes around the pair of you has picked up on it. The record for fastest time of recognition goes to Akaashi, unsurprisingly.

The overly observant first year had peeped you the very same minute you’d come to stand next to the Ace—though in your defense it was kinda hard to hide your reaction when Kou had pulled you into a bone crushing hug, his face instantly burrowing its ways into your hair and taking noisy pulls of the familiar scent in between gushing about having missed you while he was away visiting family over the break.

“Ah, so this is your partner then?” the ravenette had asked as he looked between you with a small smile. Said smile turned questioning when you both gave an answer in the negative, and then he was focusing his appraising gaze solely onto your very flustered self. He blinked once in recognition of the panic that had started to rise behind your eyes before shrugging. “Hm, sorry, my mistake…” The small nod that he’d shot your way afterwards was enough to assure that your secret was as safe with him as it was with anybody.

And sure, none of your friends have ever outted you, but they have been doing the absolute most with their attempts to push the two of you together. It wouldn’t be so bad, honestly, if Kou wasn’t so damn oblivious. It almost feels pointed, his ignoring their blatant efforts and your feelings that are growing more and more obvious with every interaction. While he may not always be the smartest academically, there’s no denying that he’s got a creature sense when it comes to all things emotional.

If he hasn’t picked up on it yet it’s because he doesn’t want to—be that purposefully or subliminally.

Either way it smacks of the rejection that you refuse to put yourself, or your friendship, though. This is why you avoid his stare in the dimly lit space with crossed arms and pursed lips. The bald bulb overhead casts you both in a sickly yellow tint that does nothing for your complexion, but everything for Bo’s eyes. They look like pools of honey or maybe even molten gold, and their fathomless depths are something that you would gladly get lost in if given half the chance.

For his part the Ace runs a hand over his hair—there’s even more gray in the strands than there had been this time last year, with the remaining black bits being relegated to blocky lowlights—as he looks from the door to you and back again with a sheepish expression.

“I would say ‘it could be worse’, buuut… Well you don’t exactly seem thrilled about being stuck in here with me.”

In your still rattled state you don’t know how to respond to that without potentially giving something away so you settle for a noncommittal (and mildly distressed) sound.

He deflates a bit at that, his broad shoulders noticeably drooping as he leans against the little shoe rack at his back. “Yeah, I mean, that’s fair. After all, why would you want to be trapped in a closet with your bestie when you could be sucking face with your crush, amirite?”

Though it’s meant to come off as a joke, there’s a thread of something that begs you to meet his stare. When you turn to face him, however, his gaze is focused on the slab of wood that bars you from freedom.

“It must’ve really sucked since he was right there, too. If there was just a little bit more force behind your spin you could’ve been in here with him.”

His tone is overly casual, clearly forced, and not nearly good enough to cover up the thread of something darker that lies just beneath the surface. You’ve only ever really heard his voice take on such a tint one time before, when Shiratorizawa’s Ace had come in and upset the rankings early in the season, nudging Bo out of his top three spot. Though he had tried to play it off, it was extremely obvious that he was–

Wait.

…Is he… jealous?

You’re not sure if it’s just some terrible combination of wishful thinking and projection, or if you’re actually detecting a hint of dejection-fueled envy right now. And if that’s not surreal enough, he actually thinks that you have a crush on someone that isn’t him? What in the actual fuck…

“I… Wha? Kou, what are you–? Who are…?” You mentally go over who was sitting where before it all clicks. “Wait. Akaashi? You think I have a thing for fuckin’ Keiji Akaashi?”

The sharpness of your tone leaves him flinching as he replies with a “Umm, yeah?” that says this should be obvious—which by his estimation it probably should be given the fact that it’s your supposed crush.

“Why would I–? I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with him, but where the hell are you even getting this from?”

He shrugs. “You mean besides the fact that you’re always staring at him? Which I mean, fair. He’s a handsome guy—those baby blues? I’m swooning.”

Once again the joke falls flat, not least of all because he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. That he clears his throat harshly before pinching at the space between his eyes—eyes that are squeezed shut and turned skywards—afterwards only serves to lend credence to your assumption.

You reach for him then, his name falling from your lips on a sigh, but an extended hand sees you stopping short. He tries to assure you that it’s okay, that he’s happy for you, really, and is even willing to play wingman for you if you’re too shy to make a move on your own. That he’s so willing to put your happiness ahead of his own, even when it’s obviously tearing him apart, only serves to make you fall just that little bit deeper.

Seeing him like this you cannot for the life of you remember why it was you were so scared of confessing. Kou has always been so gentle with your heart, cradling your feelings close to his chest and handling them as gently as if they were his own. Even if he couldn’t return your affections he would never spurn them—or you.

And so you gather up the hand that still hovers just inches away from your chest between both of your own. Years of honing his craft has left the skin on his palm overly smooth in some places and rough and hardened in others. These callouses tell the story of an unyielding devotion to a passion that was once little more than a distant dream spoken about in a pillow fort on rainy weekend night. In the time since he’s done everything in his power to make that dream come true, and you’ve been right by his side for the whole of it, and will continue to be, if given the chance. But that’s a chance that you’ll never get if you don’t take one yourself—right here, and right now.

It’s a lot easier to jump, you find, when you know that someone’s waiting to catch you.

By the time you’ve laid out the whole of your heart to your best friend, his smile’s much wider than any you’ve ever seen from him before, and that’s certainly saying a lot. His free hand comes up to slap at the middle of his forehead as he calls himself a dummy with a huff of exasperation.

“‘Only looking at Akaashi because he was always next to you’—or, erm, well me. How did I never notice?” He continues to assault himself even as he laughs, prompting you to take this hand into your care too before he gives himself a headache.

“I dunno, but I guess it kinda makes sense? Honestly I didn’t even really sort out my feelings for you until the start of this school year, so…” You give a half shrug as you tangle your fingers together. “I guess I can kinda see why you would’ve thought that, since it all happened around the same time.”

He concedes the point with a half nod, but—“Still, I… I dunno. You would think I would’ve picked up on it before now. I mean, I had always hoped, but… You never said anything when I went out with those other people–”

“Yeah, because it wasn’t my place. It’s not like I had any claim over you, so–” When he gives you a confused looking pout you sigh loudly. “It would’ve been really fucking selfish of me if I told you to not go out with them just because I wanted you–”

“Not if you would’ve told me why,” he insists, “not if I wanted you too.”

“I… Kou…” You can feel your cheeks heating and you’re quick to duck your head to hide your flustered state. “Fuckin’– You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“And why not, hm? Why shouldn’t I tell the person that I’m absolutely head over heels for just how much they mean to me?”

He loosens a hand from your grip then, cupping your chin and raising your face back to level. You stubbornly keep your eyes downcast for several long seconds, though once you finally look up…

Koutaro’s pretty eyes are blown impossibly wide with a grin to match; his skin has taken on a light, but thorough blush, with the pink stain stretching from his scalp and down to his neck to disappear beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“Gosh, ____, you’re really cute. Have I ever told you that before?”

Your whining of his name scales up into a sharp gasp when he poses one simple question:

“Can I kiss you?”

Your mouth is replying before you brain can properly process his words, with the “Gods, yes” falling past your lips on a sigh. His own lips move just as quickly then—just as desperate, needy, hungry. He’s on you in nearly the same instant, using your still tangled hands to pull you into him as he all but slams your faces together. Even with the barrier of your lips there, you can still feel your teeth colliding, though better those than your noses you suppose. Really it’s only the fact that your head was already somewhat tilted that saved you from that good discount rhinoplasty.

You both pull apart with muttered sounds of pain, but despite the embarrassment that’s clearly playing out across the Ace’s face it’s obvious that he wants to try again, and you of course, are all too willing to let him.

He’s gentle this time, slow and methodical and oh-so-tender as he cups your face between his slightly shaky palms. He holds you like you’re something infinitely precious and fleeting, with a quiet reverence overtaking the whole of his being. He doesn’t try to kiss you right away, choosing instead to look you over with those honeycomb eyes that syrup with an affection that you never thought would be aimed at you, but craved nevertheless. Rough thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks—“So soft,” he mumbles under his breath. “So soft and warm and cute~”—in a supplicant’s display that leaves your face heating all the more.

You want to return the favor, want to make him feel as adored and cherished and loved as you do in this moment, but it’s almost as if you’re caught in trance. You’re drunk on him already and he’s barely even touched you. It’s all so much—too much, really—and yet you’re ravenous for every bit of affection that he’s willing to offer. Months of longing (years, if you’re being honest) have made you greedy for his attentions, with your rapidly mounting need begging you to entreat him with a soft “Kou, please.”

Your words pull him from whatever stupor he had slipped into, leaving him to blink dumbly for a couple of seconds before nodding his assent and slowly following through. Long fingers curl under your chin and, after allowing you to melt under the smolder of his eyes for a beat more, he draws you into the kiss.

When he presses his lips against yours this time it’s a slow, careful thing. Inexperience on both your parts makes the initial meeting a bit awkward; first there’s not enough pressure, then there’s too much lip somehow, and adding tongues into the mix is a whole entire thing, but you’re both determined to get it right, and once you do…

All-consuming is the only way you can think to describe it. Kissing Koutaro fills up the whole of your being, replacing any thoughts and concerns with him-him-him, invading all of your senses. You’re so caught up that you don’t realize that your seven minutes are up, not even when the door is wrenched open to flood the closet with a light that is quickly eclipsed by your host’s hulking frame.

“Time’s up love bir- Oh.” Kuroo chokes out a startled laugh as he takes stock of the situation with those sharp, feline eyes of his. “Oh damn, okay, huh. Didn’t uhhh, didn’t expect things to go that well. I guess congratulations are in order then, as well as thanks–”

“Tetsurou…”

Clearly the boy’s got a death wish as he ignores your warning growl of his name in favor of winding you up some more. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say it now—just promise me that I can be best man at the wedding and we’ll call it square.” When your only reply is a raised middle finger he just cackles that ugly, not-so-little laugh of his before closing the door again with a comment about leaving the pair of you to it.

The retort that you can feel building behind your teeth dies instantly when Kou tugs you back into him. He regards you with heavily lidded eyes and a lopsided smile as he promises to help you jack up your meddling mutual friend later—“But for now…”

He lifts your chin with a curl of his fingers in a move that is already becoming familiar to you, before stealing your breath away once again with his kiss.

🍃 Volleyball Kiss

Eyes on the Prize || WC: ~1.1k

One last warning for mentions of food and eating for anyone who may need it. The whole of this section is centered around Bo eating himself silly so if that’s a thing that makes you uncomfy for any reason you’re probably better off skipping this one…

You and Kai listen with somewhat rapt attention to the tale that Kuroo weaves about the latest convention that he and Kenma attended—somewhat being the keyword as you cannot help but to divide your attention between him and the humanoid owl that is steadily creeping up behind him. Said owl boy is the reason that you’re even entertaining this conversation, as well as the excessive heat of the grilling station, in the first place.

Bokuto’s love of all things meaty and delicious is known throughout the prefecture, add to that the caloric needs of a hyperactive athlete of his stature and it hardly comes as a surprise that he’s had more than his fair share at this barbeque. He’s as relentless in his quest for more yakiniku as he is for a clean spike on the court, and you being the loving and supportive partner that you are, are here to help him out.

Your job is a simple one—all you have to do is distract the rival school’s captain while your boyfriend secures another helping. It’s an easy enough feat given that Tetsurou absolutely loves the sound of his own voice (never mind the crush he’s been nursing on his best friend for years now), so keeping him talking’s been easy enough.

You nod and hum and laugh along with the overly tall middle blocker, all the while keeping an extremely amused eye on Bo’s surprisingly stealthy approach.

“–his face when he found out! He looked like he wanted to cry, puke, and punch something all at once. Gods, I wish I could’ve gotten a picture…” Tetsu continues around a chuckle. “And then the poor booth worker had to–”

You have no idea how he sees the set of chopsticks when they’re barely visible to you, but Kuroo’s sentence immediately devolves into a rebuking cry of “Oh hell no, Bokuto! You are not getting all the meat, you son of a bitch!”

In that same moment he snatches up your boyfriend by his collar, but it’s too late. The slices of rōsu have already been banished to the seemingly endless abyss that is his gaping maw never to be seen again. As he chews his prize with a self-satisfied smile the lot of you cannot help but to laugh, though it’s pretty clear that Kuroo is none too pleased at having been bested.

“Fine. You win this time, but try that shit again and I promise you it’s your ass.” To you, “And you. I expected better from you, ____, though I have no idea why.”

“Me neither,” you agree. “Really, you’re hurting your own feelings at this point.”

He snorts at that, shoving your still nomming boyfriend in your general direction before putting a hand on both of your shoulders and herding you away from the grills. “Alright ya gremlins, you’ve had more than your fair share–”

“I actually haven’t had any meat,” you inform him around a snicker.

“Yeah, well Bo’s had enough for the both of you. Now kindly go away and leave some for the rest for us.” Kuroo gives you one last little shove before heading back to the grills, mumbling something about getting at least one veggie kabab into his various kohai. You wish him luck before turning your attention back to Koutaro.

For his part your boyfriend is still happily munching away on the various cuts that he managed to snag before being pulled away, occasionally dipping into your plate to grab a bit of rice and the odd vegetable when you give him an imploring look. He tears through the lot of it with the type of ravenous energy that only a teenaged athlete can harness, and it’s only after making several more trips to the buffet style spread to fill up on various sides and desserts that he’s satisfied.

Unsurprisingly the itis kicks in fairly quickly after that leaving Kou to crash hard. He all but collapses on you, complaining about how full his tummy feels all the while, and asking you to rub it for him.

“Don’t whine now, you did this to yourself,” you chide, though there’s no real heat behind the words.

“Babyyy,” he whines anyway, eyes droopy and lips pouted up cutely, “don’t be mean to me, I’m sick.”

“You’re ridiculous is what you are.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyways~”

Well, he’s not wrong.

You let him position himself as he pleases—that your charitable act will see a good portion of your body going numb from having his hulking frame braced against your middle is proof that no good deed goes unpunished. But you can’t bring yourself to care overmuch, not when he snuggles into your chest so sweetly, arms wrapped around your middle and legs stretched out behind him to tangle with your own sloppily. With him lying on his stomach it’s pretty much impossible for you to comply with his initial request, but when you point this out to him he just shrugs.

“Play with my hair then? Please??”

Your fingers lace themselves into the two-toned strains without further prompting. Between the heat of the day and all the sweating he’d done earlier his hair has lost a fair bit of its volume; the near sentient locks seem to wilt further as Kou’s breaths go heavy with sleep. Within moments he’s lost to the waking world, or at least you’d thought he was–

“Thanks f’helpin’ me get mah meat, babe, luh yooou…” He raises up just enough to punctuate the sleep-slurred declaration with a sweet little kiss to your lips. Bleary eyes watch you intently for a beat afterwards, clearly waiting for something—oh.

“Love you too, Kou-Kou Bean.”

He gives you one of those megawatt grins then, the kind that always leaves your heart speeding up from a beautifully tumultuous mixture of overflowing happiness and boundless love and all things good and wholesome, and then he’s flopping back down into his previous position and knocking out with a speed that’s equal parts concerning and impressive. Likewise your hands find their way back into his tufted mane, stroking through the locks and rubbing at his scalp until his breaths deepen into soft little snores.

It doesn’t matter that your butt’s gone numb and that he’s drooling on your shirt—you’ll gladly stay like this until the end of time if it means giving him back even a fraction of the love and happiness he brings into your life.

🍃 One Hundredth Kiss

No Words Needed or Eyes on You, Pt. 2 || WC: ~700

Sometimes you can almost swear that Koutaro’s gaze legitimately has a tactile quality to it—how else can you explain the fact that you always, always know when he’s looking at you?

The feel of his gaze varies. Sometimes it’s like a caress against your cheek, a small show of affection when he can’t readily offer it in a more substantial way. Other times it’s like he’s incessantly tapping on your shoulder, an excitable puppy’s bid to get you to acknowledge him. And other times still it’s far less demanding, settling over the whole of you like a comforting weight—a warm embrace that’s usually followed shortly after by the whole of his muscled frame fitting itself snugly against your back.

In the now it’s more like that tapping, if not as insistent, and you find yourself turning around after just a few seconds. Sunshine irises brighten more than what should be possible the moment your eyes meet, though the view is soon eclipsed by their crossing. Before your brain could ever hope to process the motion, your own eyes are mirroring the motion; it’s a kneejerk reaction at this point, a Pavlovian response to a game that you’ve been playing since your earliest days. He pulls another face then, with you making an even weirder one in reply and him trying to top it right after. The pair of you go back and forth like this for a good few minutes before your laughter makes it all but impossible to go on.

You tilt your head back when your giggles finally die out, a contented sigh pushing past your lips as you brush away the tears of mirth that’re still stubbornly clinging to your lashline. When you drop your head back to level you’re not at all surprised to find that your boyfriend’s already watching you. His gaze has softened down into something soft and syrupy sweet and his smile is just as gentle. He extends a hand towards you then in a move fit for a Disney prince, and you’re quick to accept the silent invitation.

He tugs you into his lap, ignoring feeble protests that are more out of habit than any actual concern at this point, and situating you so that he can bury his face into curve of your neck. A deep breath fills his lungs with your scent, though the trailing exhale is more akin to a lovesick sigh.

“Thank you.”

The words are murmured so quietly that had you not been so close you would have missed them entirely. Your replying inquiry is posed just as softly in fear of potentially breaking the fragile atmosphere with something louder.

“For this,” he gives you a purposeful squeeze as he says it, “for being you, for letting me be me.”

Instead of further filling the air you chose instead to set your lips to a sweeter work. The kiss you share is a chaste thing—a physical manifestation of the overwhelming love that you have for this man just as much as it’s a promise, one that you could never fully put into words, but is understood just the same.

I love you, it says, all of you, without conditions or restraint.

And when you feel his smile blooming underneath your lips you know that he not only understands, but reciprocates it a hundred fold.

🍃 Forever Kiss

Eyes on the Future || WC: ~1k

“I think I love you.”

Koutaro seems to realize that this may have not been the best thing to say in nearly the same moment that the words breach the air, if the near comical way his eyes widen is any indication.

“I– sorry, I, um, meant to think that,” he amends, voice sheepish and cheeks reddening as he gives you a half smile.

“If that was supposed to make me feel better, it didn’t,” comes your dry reply. “What do you mean you ‘think’? And why are you only considering the possibility now, when we’ve been together for years? I mean, are you just now realizing it? Or did you not love me before, or–”

You’re sure that this is all just some sort of misunderstanding, a breakdown in communication not just between the pair of you, but between Koutaro’s brain and mouth as well. It’s a common enough occurrence that you really shouldn’t be surprised, but still—what the hell??

He shakes his head hard as he comes to gather you up in his arms, but your mildly panicky confusion has you stiffening under his touch. He makes a pained sound at that before assuring you over and over again that it’s not what you think at all.

“Of course I love you, baby! You know I do! Hell, I loved you before I even really knew what love was, before I even realized that was the reason being around you made my heart race and my head all jumbly. I just–” He stops short then and takes a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. He does this a few more times before he trusts himself to speak again.

“Okay, so we both know I’m not always the best with words, so please, just… Just let me get it all out and then I’ll explain any super confusing bits afterwards. That okay?” A small smile pulls at his lips when you nod, with the plush of them coming to cuddle themselves against your forehead in a move that almost seems compulsory, like he couldn’t not kiss you in this moment.

“See, it’s stuff like that that just makes me so”—he makes an odd noise then, one that would be indecipherable to most others, but makes perfect sense to you—“yanno? You’re always so patient with me, even when I stop making sense. You get me, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate that.” Another kiss follows his words, this one a lingering peck against your mouth that’s clearly meant to further illustrate said appreciation.

“We’ve known each other for a long time now, most of our lives, really, and I’ve spent nearly the whole of that time falling for you in every possible way. First you were my friend, then my best friend, then my crush, and then mine—like mine-mine, and honestly I still don’t know how I got so lucky. I went into that closet fully expecting to have my heart broken, but I got the exact opposite, I got you, and in the time since I’ve found that there’s so many more ways to love you.

“That’s what I was trying to say before. I think I’ve fallen again, maybe for the last time, actually. I, uh– Hm. How do I even say this? Uhh… Give me a sec?”

You nod again from where you’ve buried your face against him in a vain attempt to hide your flustered state. What had started off as a mildly concerning statement has turned into a declaration of a love that runs deeper than you ever dared to hope for, and gods you Are Not Prepared for this. Like at all.

“Okay, so,” he starts after a few long moments, “I love you—like a lot a lot. I know I said that I thought I fell for the last time, but that’s only partly true because I’m still falling. What I feel for you, it doesn’t have a bottom; it’s big and so, so deep, and that so scary to me, not gonna lie, and kinda overwhelming, but like in a good way, if that makes any sense? Am I even making sense anymore?”

Though you nod again, the weight of his gaze begs to be met and so you lift your eyes to meet his and what you find swirling through their golden depths leave you gasping. There’s a universe’s worth of love to be found there—continually expanding to hold the yield of a well whose source is everlasting. You’re not sure what it is he sees in your eyes, but whatever is there is enough to give him the resolve he needs to continue on.

“I want forever with you, babe, no matter what that looks like. Marriage and kids, one or the other, or neither really. I don’t need altars or rings or to stand up and recite age old vows in front of a big group of people—I don’t need any of that so long as I have you.”

“And you do,” you promise. “Always have, and always will.”

He smiles brightly at that before his lips part around that infectious laughter of his. He manages to get a teasing “Oya?” out in between his chuckles only to be met with the word in duplicate, but before he can say it again you’re pressing your lips against his. Giggles lace themselves into the ministration making it more of a meeting of mouths than a true kiss, but neither of you would have it any other way–

Because this is real and it’s true and so very, very you.

You can’t rightly say what the future will hold or what forever truly looks like, but so long as Koutaro Bokuto’s in it—by your side, and hand wrapped firmly around your own—it’s one worth running towards with arms spread wide and heart laid bare.

Taglist ((open to 18+ users only)): @scarlettriot ((giving you a tag since I know you were waiting for this one to drop lol))

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2021 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…

#((Immy does fan fiction: The Volleybaes))#bokuto x reader #bokuto x gn!reader #bokuto x gender neutral reader #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n #bokuto fluff #haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff

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rosepetalmark · 3 years

Text

too soon.

↬ Jung Jaehyun x Reader ↬2.5k Words ↬Warnings: Mentions of alcohol ↬ Got in my feels one night listening to Keshi so this is inspired by his song “2 soon”

It hurt not having you there. After the breakup, which you both decided was amicable, something inside him snapped.

At first, he let the sadness take over him. He knew these were all normal emotions to process once a breakup occurred, so he let himself mourn his loss. Just because you both decided you needed to focus on yourselves and careers, doesn’t mean it didn’t pain him knowing you wouldn’t be the first person he was able to hug when he got home from work, let alone kiss you whenever he looked your way.

Most days he tried to distract himself, divulging himself into non stop practise, trying to work harder for the groups latest comeback, rather than drown in sorrow over his want for you and your relationship.

Weeks had passed, and so did his urge to drink. At first he thought one shot would do, take the edge off and distract him from his thoughts and cheer him up a little, but five more shots later he was dizzy, sad, and still thinking of you.

He reached for his phone several times in that moment, glancing at your name that’s been untouched for almost two months, desperately wanting to call you and ask if you’re doing well. If you miss him. If you still love him and much as he loves you.

But each time he stopped himself, something within his heart knowing that you needed this time to heal as well. Hell, maybe you’ve already healed and want nothing to do with him. But he doesn’t know that, and he doesn’t want to know that. He just wants to be with you.

And he knows this isn’t a healthy mentality to have. You both made it known that his career is at a very pivotal point, and that’s what he needs to be focusing on until he feels he is stable enough in his career to balance both being an idol, and a caring boyfriend to you.

So each time he’s alone and in his thoughts, he gets wasted and cries about how he lost you, and how he wants nothing more than to put his career aside than to be with you. If you ever heard him say those words, he knows you’d be upset, wanting his happiness and career to be put first. It came before you after all, and you never wanted to be the reason for his career ever taking a negative turn.

It wasn’t until he was at a yearly company party SM threw in December to not only celebrate Christmas, but all the successful comebacks and promotions each of their artists have done throughout the majority of the year. They may have worked NCT and Jaehyun to the bone this year, and this was just the slightest form of appreciation they had to offer.

Yuta and Mark were joking about the time Jaehyun snuck you into one of SM’s after parties after the Golden Disk awards last year, focusing more on you than his friends and groupmates, never leaving your side or your lips for the matter; prompting him to drunkenly declare his love for you in front of the dozens of other celebrities surrounded in the same room as you all.

Jaehyun was embarrassed when he remembered the next day, but you on the other hand thought it was sweet. Knowing that he didn’t care what his repercussions were at the moment, only wanting to declare his love for you not only to you, but to those he's closest with and who know how hard it is to find love and maintain it in such a hectic and invasive career.

He got so drunk at this year’s party, that he locked himself in one of the building's bathrooms, tears streaming down his face because he knew the alcohol was not enough. It will never be enough. Alll he wants is you.

Taking his phone out of his jacket pocket, he scrolled down to your name, and pressed “Call”. Knowing it was a long shot that you’d answer, considering you don’t have to associate with him if you didn’t want to, along with the fact that it was shortly after 1am, with you probably being fast asleep.

With just two rings in, a soft “Hello” came from his speaker, nothing that you did in fact answer and were awake.

“Hi.” Was all he managed to speak out, soft hiccups emerging from his throat, his cheeks getting hotter by the second as he doesn’t know what he’s going to say to you, let alone what you’re going to say back to him.

“Are you okay Jaehyun? It’s 1am.”

Wiping his tears, he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t outright blurt out everything he was thinking and feeling the past few months, not wanting to scare you away from the intense emotions he was feeling as of late.

“I don’t think I am.” He spoke softly, loosening his tie as it was constricting him from breathing properly through his intense tears.

“I miss you, like a lot.” He said between gulps, trying to calm down but his hiccups having other plans for him. “And I know we said this was for the best, but us breaking up has been eating me alive and I can’t stop thinking about you and us and it just really sucks.”

“It’s been two months Jaehyun.” You say, not knowing exactly how to process how he’s feeling. “Why didn’t you call me earlier if everything’s been bothering you so much?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I wanted to give you space and let you live your life without coming off as some pathetic loser who needs you all the time.”

“Well, you’re not a pathetic loser, Jung Jaehyun. You’re a human being who lives a hectic life, one with feelings who deserves to feel and process and be comforted whenever something’s going on in your life. Don’t ever feel bad about it.”

Processing your voice, Jaehyun couldn’t help feel the comfort and peace that flowed through his body whenever you spoke to him. You always knew what to say, and even when you didn’t, your presence was just as reassuring.

“I miss you too, by the way.”

“You do?” He cries, trying his best to wipe his tears while maintaining his attention on your voice. “I thought if I called and you heard me like this you’d for sure be happy we broke up.”

“Breakups are painful Jaehyun. I can’t even imagine how you feel because I know you don’t have many people to talk about things so it must hurt to bottle things up.”

Which was true. Jaehyun kept your relationship a secret for six months before even letting his managers know, slowly waiting for the company’s okay with your relationship, but not wanting for it to be public. He never wanted to do that to you, hound you with the harassment and chaos that came attached to an idol. It was already bad enough when two idols dated, let alone when one dated a non- celebrity, fans worked even harder to learn everything and anything they could, potentially harming anyone at hand.

Jaehyun first told Johnny when you two started dating, the smirk on his face never once fading whenever the mention of you came up. The rest of the members slowly began to find out, each congratulating him that he finally found someone who made him smile, and wasn’t with him because he was famous. Anyone he attempted dating in the past either wanted him for his fame, or was someone in the industry who wouldn’t shut up about the industry.

Dating you was like a breath of fresh air, because compared to his hectic life, you were just a regular, comforting human being. You worked a part time job at the mall, attended university and were studying to be a social worker, and had a great obsession with baking banana bread.

Whenever Jaehyun was with you, you reminded him of what it’s like to be a normal human being, not an idol stripped of all his talent, time, and energy to make a company even more rich and successful than they already were.

And it wasn’t to say you lived a boring life, but compared to him everything you’ve done and experienced was so mundane. Nothing made Jaehyun happier than when he showed you the tiny details that go on in an idols life, such as where he practises, to where he and the rest of NCT record their songs, even taking you behind the stages of award shows and comeback stages-wanting you to see the full effect and experience up close, rather than on a tv or in a dressing room away from all the magic.

You were the clarity and compassion in Jaehyun’s life and it absolutely shattered him whenever you were unable to be with him when your lives and commitments came first.

When you both decided it was necessary for you to break up, Mark was the first person who found out. Jaehyun entered the dorm quietly, his cap covering his eyes and mask slightly rising up the bridge of his nose, only exposing about a centimetre of his face.

Mark knew better than to ask what was wrong, as past experiences with Jaehyun being angry never ended too well, so he gave him some space. But three days after entering the dorm pissed off and not leaving his room once, Mark took it upon himself to check up on him, only to find him curled up in a ball on his bed sobbing, discovering that you two broke up and clearly he wasn’t taking it well.

It took him about 6 days before he left his bed to finally shower and eat something that wasn’t a granola bar or cereal stashed in his room or brought in by Mark, and 9 days for him to finally tell everyone why he was so distant and upset.

Obviously, everyone was saddened that you wouldn’t be spending time with them anymore, but ultimately were hurting for Jaehyun as well, as they knew you meant a great deal to him, and losing you meant losing all the plans and dreams he had for wanting to marry you one day.

Obviously not in the near future, but in around 5 years, when you were well out of school and had a full time job, and when Nct was well off enough to not be promoting as often as they had their first several years as a group; only ever promoting or touring for a portion of the year, rather than having breaks for a few weeks every few months.

It took all the strength in Jaehyun’s body not to call you every night after you broke up, but clearly that did not work because here he was, unfortunately consumed by alcohol he used to help cope with the pain for the past several weeks, drunk and sobbing to you.

“It’s just been really hard. I know we said it’s for the best but I hate not having you in my life. I miss going for food with you at 2am when you’re stressed about your assignments. I miss giving you long hugs when we go long periods of time without seeing each other and- fuck! I just am so in love and want to be with you the rest of my life and I hate how I let myself become so attached to you and this relationship but I cannot go on knowing there’s a chance you’re going to fall in love with someone one day and I won’t be that man marrying you or being the father of your children or holding you when you’ve had a hard day.”

“Wow, you’re really drunk.” You say, hugging your pillow to your chest because no one has ever uttered such raw, loving words to you before and you cannot help but fight off the urge to cry because you too, want that life for the both of you one day.

“Yeah I know. I’m surprised I said all that right now because I’ve been fighting the urge to call you every night because I wanted to give you space.”

“I want all that with you, Jaehyun. I want us to get married and have three kids and two dogs and I want you to help teach them all how to read and for them to make you play dress up with them and have tea parties and make sand castles. I’m still in love with you and always will be so please don’t be sorry or surprised you’re feeling this way because we both know we deserve to be with each other.”

“I want you so much.”

“Do you want me to come see you? Just so we can talk and I can make sure you’re doing okay?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I get if it feels weird or it’s too late.” He didn’t want to pressure you into doing anything, especially the need to take care of him when he’s drunk and sad and completely in love with you. You’re not his babysitter, nor his girlfriend for the matter- you are not inclined to care for him or even see him because he’s a mess.

But you still want to. Because even though you haven’t spoken in weeks, you know that Jaehyun is the love of his life, and hearing him be so sad and lonely is more than heartbreaking. It’s complete agony.

“Nothing is too late or too weird when it comes to you. I want to hug you and never let you go and tuck you in bed and make sure you’re safe and happy when you go to bed.”

“I’ll meet you back at my dorm if that’s okay? If I’m at this party any longer I’ll go absolutely insane.”

“I’ll see you there, Jaehyun. Please be safe and text me when you leave.”

“Of course, anything for you. And thank you, for even just listening. You’re an angel and I can’t wait to see you in a few minutes.” He chimed, shortly ending the call after he said those last statements to you.

Jaehyun doesn’t know for certain where his future with you stands, but he’s okay with that. He’s seeing you soon, and you just confessed that you’re still in love with him and want a future with him, and that’s all he needs.

His conversation with you managed to clear his mind and body out of the abundance of alcohol that once consumed him, his attention and newfound excitement now focused solely on seeing you, touching you, just being with you. He quickly ordered himself a cab, not even saying goodbye to his members, beyond ecstatic to be within your presence.

And for now, that’s all he could ever ask for.

#nct imagines #nct smut #jung jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct drabbles #nct 127 #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years

Text

PROFILE: ISANA YASHIRO

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Real name: Isana Yashiro

Terms of address: Shiro

[PROFILE]

Birthday: June 1, Gemini

Blood type: B

Age: 18 (At the beginning of the second season)

[APPEARANCE]

Physique: 1.69 cm in height. He is a boyish physique that looks slim and small.

Face, hair: He always has a nice smiling face.

Attire: School clothes that have fallen apart. Fold up the sleeves and wear the hem of his sneakers. (Phase 1)

Weismann's clothing is worn based on Shiro's size. (Second stage version.)

Personal effects: Japanese umbrella.

[HABITS, SKILLS]

· Go in and out when he goes anywhere. He is good at improving lies.

[IMPRESSION, OTHER NOTES]

· The image color is "white", "transparent".

· Image of "free person".

· At first glance, he seems like a lazy and mediocre child.

· It is nice to meet people, but there are places where there is no place.

· The power of the clan is accompanied by the soft silver light.

[POSITION, OBJECTIVES]

Originally a proud genius from Germany, he devoted himself to researching the Dresden Slate. At the time, he dreamed of the bright future of humanity with the power of the Dresden Slate, but he lost his sister, Claudia, in the Dresden airstrike, and fell to the bottom of disappointment. He turns into a certain kind of disgrace. After that, he lived an isolated life in heaven for almost 70 years, but he lost his memory from the seizure of power by the Seventh King, and his consciousness changed when he woke up again. Although it was a short time, the experience of living with Kuro Yatogami and Neko had a great influence.

[PERSONALITY, CONDUCT]

Although there are some parts that seem to be a bit neglected, after regaining Weismann's memory, he began to have doubts about the surface of the Slate and began to realize what was really important to him.

Regaining Weismann's memory, even if he wakes up as the "Silver King", his basic character remains almost unchanged. As usual, he is the type to laugh, even if the situation is serious. As you can see from the fact that he was a precocious genius and had few friends, he was originally unfit for "king". Although he's worthy when it comes time to call him out, he doesn't really think of grouping a lot of people together like Rey, and he's not good at it. However, he is prepared to act as their leader while forming close relationships with a very small number, Neko and Kuro. He seems open and positive to everyone, but in fact it may be that he is carefully selecting people to associate with.

For Shiro, the happiness that surrounds a human and a platform that can be protected is the most important. In that sense, he is quite different from Munakata and Kokujoji. Ichigen Miwa may be the closest thing.

He seems elusive and incomprehensible, but when it comes to his heart, he begins to move forward and prepare.

[FATE, ENDING]

To the Green Clan who want to empower all human beings by using the Slate, Shiro will deny the Slate that he ever dreamed of the happy future of humanity.

We concluded that instead of the supernatural power of a huge stone slab, he would choose a future that he would make with his friends around him, and confront Nagare, causing a change that would destroy people's little happiness.

[ABILITIES, TACTICS]

At the beginning of the story, he was a normal person, but when he woke up as the "King" at the end of the first term, he used his fluffy flying ability with an umbrella, a barrier, and a Neko-mediated mind-transmission ability. He is not good at direct attacks, but he has a wide range of applications and great power.

Mainly defense. Immortality.

Since he was a scholar when he was Weismann, he was not good at exercising.

[POWER]

A + (Superior in the "King" class, but does not participate in voluntary combat.)

[LIKES]

His favorite food is white rice.

It is said that the food that Kuro makes is very delicious, but he appreciates most things. Neither gourmet nor sensitive tongue. A relatively harsh taste.

[DISLIKE]

Nothing particularly. Those who speak loudly in meetings.

[HOBBIES]

He has always loved reading as an art culture since the Weismann days, but it is subtle to say that it is a hobby.

He likes to joke around and chat with others.

Researching science in general is a hobby, but it is inextricably linked to work. He didn't need distractions because he used to work as a hobby.

After meeting Kuro, eating rice became one of his hobbies.

[FASHION]

Perhaps because he was born before the war, his fashion sense is a little different from that of young today.

[BODY]

He was tall in the Weismann period, but Isana's body is small and delicate. Sometimes majesty doesn't look good.

[INTELLIGENCE]

Very high. Originally called "double headed genius" with his sister Claudia, a scientific genius. He has knowledge of science and technology in general. Furthermore, he is a mere scholar and possesses such a wealth of knowledge that he can pursue flexible subjects outside of his specialty. Furthermore, he is also good with tricks and deception that fools the opponent.

He also likes to play games and make jokes. He has an expert and generalist perspective. However, he rarely uses it for practical purposes.

[BELIEFS]

There was a panoramic view of all phenomena from Weismann's height. Mental in nature, he is a lonely person. He may have come from the first half of life when he had no other person to open his mind to except Claudia and Kokujoji because he had transcendent intelligence. Weismann entered the lonely life due to the loss of his sister, Claudia, but he was not completely abandoned in his life, such as following his only friend, Kokujoji, to Japan.

Since he became Isana Yashiro, his mindset has changed considerably after he formed ties with Kuro and Neko. It seems that the important thing among him is probably not the country or the ideal, but the important people within his reach.

[RELATIONSHIPS]

[EARLY YEARS]

He was called a double-headed genius with his sister, Claudia, since he was a child. He participated in the study of the Dresden Slate and met his longtime friend Kokujoji.

Due to his incomparable intelligence, he was a lonely entity, which he could not easily meet with others. From that moment on, he was cheerful and liked mischief.

[TIMELINE]

· 1922, Adolf K. Weismann is born.

· 1943, Weismann participates in the investigation of the Dresden Slate. He advances in the analysis of the Slate.

· 1944, Weismann meets Kokujoji.

· 1945, February, Dresden airstrike, Weismann awakens as the "Silver King".

· 1945, April, Kokujoji brings the Slate to Japan, Weismann and Kokujoji say goodbye.

· 1947, Weismann visits Himmelreich.

· 2012, December, the “Colorless King” took over Weismann's body, and fell on Gakuenjima with the boy's body and became Isana Yashiro.

[ATTITUDE AND THOUGHTS TOWARDS OTHERS]

[TERMS OF THE ADDRESS FOR HIMSELF]

The first person is "Boku", and the second person is "Kimi" or "Anata".

[TOWARDS KOKUJOJI DAIKAKU]

He calls him "Lieutenant".

In the Weismann era, it was almost a farewell decision, but once he was awakened by the "King" as Isana Yashiro, he was able to face another stance. He has a complicated affection for him that he cannot describe in one word.

[TOWARDS YATOGAMI KURO]

He calls him "Kuro", "Kimi".

He is more important than a servant, and he believes that he is more like a family. The part that depends on him is great.

[TOWARDS NEKO]

He calls her "Neko" or "Kimi".

Like Kuro, she is more of a friend and family than a subject. There is no romantic feeling so far.

[TOWARDS HISUI NAGARE]

He calls him "Nagare", and "Kimi".

A young man who tries to realize his dream of changing the world with the power of the Slate, which he used to see. He thought that he could make everyone happy with the great power of the Slate, but he only saw others as "humanity" and did not see the little happiness of each person. It is the responsibility of those who have started it all, to prevent Nagare from trying to cause chaos in the world by releasing the Slate.

#k #k project #k fan clan #isana yashiro #profile isana yashiro

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tangledinmdzs · 3 years

Text

always yours - yi city mdzs characters hcs

the last of the best friend series head canons!

this is a modern version (stay tuned for a different version (v^ー°) )

»»——⍟——««

Xiao Xingchen

stepping into high school, you’ve always felt out of your depth

both from the pressure of moving to a new town and entering another stage of education in your life

it was kind of intimidating

mildly stressful

and you know it shouldn’t be much of a bother to try and fit in and find your crowd

because good things take time (as your parents have reminded you)

and that you were such a lovable person, so

who wouldn’t want to be your friend?

but it still didn’t change the fact that it was hard, nonetheless

luckily, when you’re kind of floating about in between the crowds of people and laughter in the first lunch of your first year, see an empty seat for you to snag

considering how crowded the lunch room was, you feel quite proud of yourself

so you sit down at the spot without a second thought

not even realizing that the seat in front of your empty one was occupied

you’re digging heartily, halfway through your sandwich, when you realize that someone is looking at you

and that’s when you meet Xingchen, immediately humored by your enthusiasm with food

definitely not one of your best first impressions

but it’s surely something that sticks

because aside from finding out that you both are in the same grade, you both have a plethora of classes together as well

and it becomes easy for you to find a familiar face to gravitate to in your classes

throughout the year

he’s the person that saves you a seat in the cafeteria whenever the teacher from the previous class lets you out late

you’re the person that shares your notes with him in class so that you both can be caught up

you’re each other’s first choice as partners

and it’s so so easy being friends with someone as lovely and wonderful as Xingchen

and he’s so great in everything

from his smarts

to his genuine kindness

and you know that he deserves the world

which is why

your world comes to a halting stop

when Xiao Xingchen is suddenly blinded after an accident

luckily he’s not fully blind

but his vision is heavily impaired

and you know that your high school is not the right environment for him safety and social wise

you know it is for the best that his parents are making plans to find a better accommodating school for him

but...

he’s your only, truest, friend,

and it’s only been a short while since you both have met

but you can’t imagine going through the last remaining two years high school without

and as you sit next to his hospital bed, feel his warm hand clutch yours

you think that

he feels the same

»»——⍟——««

A-Qing

you meet A-Qing as you’re helping Xiao Xingchen around the your high school, helping him to orient in an old place through a new perspective

you can’t lie and say that it’s not frustrating

but Xingchen’s always been more patient than you

even now,

when you were supposed to be helping him

it saddens you sometimes

when you can’t be of more help to him than you currently are

“i think this would be pretty useful,”

both you and Xingchen startle at the voice that talks to you both

your eyes find a young girl, probably a freshman, staring up at you

her hand holds out a small foldable stick

“it’s a white cane, it’ll help him feel out the floor better than you saying ‘watch out’ every other minute” the girl notes

“he can still see,” you try to correct, because everyone nowadays just assumes that Xingchen is fully blind... and he just accepts it like he accepts everything in his life-

“oh, i’ve never tried a cane before. i think that could be of help,” Xingchen says in his quiet voice, he turns to you though not fully enough to meet your eyes staring at him

you’ve gotten more used to his profile than his full face as of recently

“can you give it to me, y/n” Xingchen asks you,

and he’s using that voice with you

the ‘be patient, let’s try it’ voice

you manage a stiff nod at the girl, and take the white cane from her and open it from Xingchen

we you place the handle that he’s supposed to hold in his palm, Xingchen as polite as ever says,

“thank you... um...”

“A-Qing,” the girl finally introduces and then turns to you, a half smile on her face

“and you’re y/n,” the young girl parrots from what she heard before

you nod at her, a small ‘thank you’ coming from you too

‘it’s no problem. my grandma is blind so i understand you too,” A-Qing says

at that, you realize, that it would be good to befriend someone that has experience in helping visually impaired people

because you wanted to learn how to help Xingchen better

you friendship starts from Xingchen’s hardships

but as you three spend more time together,

the difficulties of his life lessen

especially with A-Qing’s support

you two become his two closest friends

and A-Qing morphs more into a little sister to you

because for all of her knowledge with Xingchen’s situation, she was still very very new to the high school situation

so she relied on your guidance (in that aspect) as much as you relied on her to help you help Xingchen

but you three come together like a sandwich

and all is well

until your third year of high school

when trouble comes in the form of a human person

»»——⍟——««

Xue Yang

trouble goes by the name of Xue Yang

your high school is relatively medium sized so you think that if you haven’t met everyone yet at least you know of most people

but

when you walk into the hallway at the sight of someone taunting Xingchen, you can’t help the way your blood boils

A-Qing is still young,

and the boy that’s flicking and pushing at Xingchen’s calm shoulder looks to be about your age, an junior

you’re about to intervene when you’re surprised at Xingchen’s quick handed grasp of the man’s hand when it lands on his chest for the third (and final time)

Xingchen holds the wrist tightly

and you remember that before, a short while ago, Xingchen used to do material arts after school

he probably never forgot his instincts, having practiced for so many years

“what do you think you’re doing?”

at the sound of your voice, the boy spares you a glance,

and then you give a short sigh under your breath

because it was Xue Yang

it was always Xue Yang

“just chatting with your boyfriend, y/n. no need to go all mama bird” Xue Yang teases and takes his hand roughly out of Xingchen’s grasp

“he’s not my boyfriend,” you correct Xue Yang, going up to Xingchen’s side to stare Xue Yang down

Xue Yang laughs, humorlessly

“you sure about that? because i think you’re probably babying him even more than his real mother,” and you really want to land a good fist to Xue Yang’s face

but Xingchen’s true testament to your friendship is that he just knows you well enough to reach a hand out and hold your wrist, hold you back from doing anything rash

because your little convo with Xue Yang had already grabbed enough of a crowd

you let Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing lead you away, though you manage to spare a long glare at Xue Yang before he fully leaves your sight

from then on, you all try to avoid Xue Yang as best as you can

and you stay closer to A-Qing and Xiao Xingchen

because it seems like you’re Xue Yang repellent

he only bothers the other two when you’re not within the vicinity

and you don’t dare think that Xue Yang is scared of you (Xue Yang isn’t scared of anything)

but it’s a little blessing that you’re grateful for

you don’t want anyone making Xingchen’s life harder than it already was

and you think that you can get through the last few months of junior year without trouble

well you hope

but one memorable time that trouble visits you

is in the turn spring

right before you you’re about to finish your junior year (practically already a senior in high school)

Xue Yang catches your arm when you’re on your way out of school after your free block

drags you to the bleachers despite your protests

you glare at him,

he stares at you, sighs

“what?” you ask

“you don’t care about anything that has to do with us do you?”

you sigh as you lean your back on the edges of the bleacher seats

“why do you put your friends before us all the time?”

“because he needs me-”

“more than i do?”

Xue Yang’s question surprises you, slightly

but you regain your composure quickly

“talk to me again when you learn that a relationship has friends and partners,

not everything in life is about you”

and that’s the final time you talk to him

»»——⍟——««

Song Lan

Song Lan comes back into your life as abruptly as he had left it

he had always been more of Xingchen’s friend than yours

you remember him being introduced to you as the quiet, barely smiling but loyal friend that Xingchen knew from way back

he and you never talked much

but he talked a lot with Xingchen

and you could tell that the both of them were close

they made each other happy

which was why his abrupt exit from high school

at the time where Xingchen needed him the most

was difficult for you to understand

though at the same time

his departure gave you a better chance to prove your friendship to Xingchen

to be the person that was there for him when it seemed like no one was

and you think that the chapter of old friendships had closed when you graduated high school

so you didn’t think you’d ever see Song Lan again

let alone, see him in your second year of college in the middle of your campus walk with Xingchen’s arm linked with yours

“y/n? why’d you stop? we’re going to be late for class”

and now, with Xingchen fully blind

you were somewhat the eyes for him when it came to new places and people

A-Qing was still in her final year of high school, already planning on following your footsteps and applying to the same college as you guys

so it was all left to you

how do you explain to XIngchen that you just saw his best friend that had left him in high school all those years ago without so much as a goodbye?

should you even let him know?

luckily, you don’t have to make the choice

when Song Lan turns and walks away immediately, not looking back

“it’s nothing, i was just startled when a squirrel ran past,” you lie to Xingchen

and continue walking on the path that you both are on

but Xingchen knows you better than yourself

and he can tell that your grip around his arm is a bit tighter than before

but he doesn’t mention anything

~~~

fate would have it that that was not the last encounter that you have with Song Lan

and the next time you do see him, you don’t let him off the hook so easily

“where did you go? how are you here now?” you ask him, when you manage to latch onto his arm at the small campus cafe

he takes his wrist out of your grasp easily

though his face looks slightly more expressive than you remember he used to be

“how’s Xingchen?” he counters with you and you huff out an exasperated laugh

“you wouldn’t need to ask me that if you had been there for us,” you find yourself saying

because you can still remember, vividly

the first few weeks of Xingchen’s blindness

his embarrassment towards you where you know he wouldn’t have been with Song Lan

and how much he missed him

“do you... do you think i can see him?” Song Lan asks, a beat after your heavy comment

you truly wonder what Xiao Xingchen would have to say to this

because you may be his best friend

but you can’t make his decisions for him

“i don’t know, why don’t you ask him,” you tell Song Lan, then tilt your head

when Song Lan turns around, he sees the person who he’s looking for right away

Xiao Xingchen is hard to miss

Song Lan stares

now it all comes down to, whether or not he would take the first step to him or not

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hajimes-erect-ahoge · 3 years

Text

Diagnosis: Love Sickness!- Chapter 1

In the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, 16 students have been imprisoned as part of a nonsensical dating game in which their objective is to find themselves in a budding romance with another student! Although reluctant to admit so, Shuichi Saihara has had his eyes on another student for quite some time now... Will Monokuma's new motive, the Despair Disease, be the driving force that pushes Saihara to finally confess his love? Or will he stay forever single in this twisted dating game?

Stay tuned to find out!

~~~~~~~~~~

Monokuma introduces the new motive, the despair disease!

ao3

The Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles was a rather interesting place, though its facilities were currently being used for a particularly strange purpose. Sixteen students, eight boys and eight girls, were confined within the walls of the academy for some sort of dating game, supposedly for the entertainment of the outside world. The cherry on top of this strange situation was that their captor was a small, animatronic black and white bear who walked and talked as if he were human. Monokuma, as the bear dubbed itself, would appear every now and then to inform the students of the structure and layout of the academy or to introduce some strange motive to encourage the blossoming of romance amongst them, but otherwise left them to their own devices. Having no choice but to mingle and make friends with one another, the students explored the academy and made use of their surroundings.

Speaking of which, the students imprisoned in this academy were not necessarily normal, either. Each and every one of them had an Ultimate Talent, making them special and distinct from one another. Their talents varied greatly from one another, even including something as far-fetched and sci-fi sounding as the Ultimate Robot, but they all managed to get along with one another and cultivate rather interesting friendships.

One exception to this, however, was Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective. Being naturally introverted and reclusive, he had a difficult time forming friendships with the other students, at least initially. Seeking to help the young detective out of his shell, two other students named Akamatsu and Momota attempted to befriend him, slowly introducing him to their small social circle and eventually the rest of the students. The two of them were social butterflies, flitting gracefully between the social groups that had formed, providing a nice complement to Saihara’s more reserved nature. Their positive and radiant energies bounced off of each other and onto Saihara, causing him to feel more empowered and confident than ever before.

It was a gradual process that allowed Saihara to become more sure of himself, transpiring over the course of their first few weeks at the academy. The culmination of said process was when, at Momota and Akamatsu’s behest, Saihara removed the black cap that he desperately clung to in order to avoid eye contact with others. His lifestyle had undergone a complete transformation since entering this academy, changing for the better as a result of the efforts of his new friends. Although his tendencies to doubt himself still persevered at times, Saihara was grateful for the progress he had made to better himself and make new friends.

But there was something missing.

As he spent more and more time trapped in the academy, Saihara noticed an increasing number of students crossing the boundary from friends to lovers. At first it was only Chabashira and Yumeno, followed by Iruma and Kiibo, but when both Momota and Akamatsu entered relationships Saihara couldn’t help but feel as if he were missing something. Although he was happy that his two closest friends were in happy, fulfilling relationships, Saihara longed for the intimacy and closeness that came with having a partner. It had been over a year since his last relationship, leaving him finally ready for a fresh start with someone new.

In all honesty, Saihara would be lying if he said he didn’t have his eyes on anyone in particular. But despite the fact that he had grown leaps and bounds in terms of becoming more secure and sure of himself, Saihara knew that he didn’t have it in him to confess his feelings for another person. In the past, it had always been various girls and boys confessing their feelings for him, not the other way around. On the lucky occasion that Saihara had actually returned the other person’s feelings, it would lead to a new relationship for the both of them. But that had only happened once throughout his whole life, and Saihara wasn’t sure if he was ready to enter another relationship and have his heart eventually be broken again. For now, all he could do was admire from afar and pray that the embarrassment when his feelings came to light wasn’t too much to endure.

~~~~~

Three weeks had passed since the imprisonment of the students had begun, meaning that it was time for a new motive to be announced. In accordance with their schedule, Monokuma had made an announcement instructing everyone to report to the gymnasium bright and early. Having no strong reasons to disobey, the students all gathered in the gymnasium awaiting Monokuma’s appearance.

Suddenly, Monokuma sprung up on top of the stage at the head of the gymnasium, drawing everyone’s attention. Although it was practically routine by now, there was no getting used to an animatronic bear appearing out of thin air. The murmurs and idle chatter in the room came to a stop, all eyes focusing on the small bear in front of them.

“Gooood morning, everyone!” Monokuma’s familiar voice rang out, chipper as ever. “I hope you all slept well, cuz I certainly did!”

“Huh? Do robots like you even need sleep?” Shirogane curiously asked, a twinge of doubt lacing her words. “I mean… You are a robot, right?”

“Why don’t we just ask the Ultimate Robot himself?” Ouma butt in excitedly, balling his hands into small fists as his eyes sparkled brightly. “Hey, Kiiboy! Is it true that robots don’t need to sleep at night like humans do?”

“I will not tolerate your robophobic remarks, Ouma-kun!” Kiibo fumed, crossing his arms angrily. “While it is true that I do not require sleep, there is a function on my body that allows me to-”

Kiibo was cut off by Ouma audibly yawning, signaling his disinterest in their conversation.

“Boooring! I don’t care about your stupid sci-fi robo functions!” Ouma complained.

“Quit lyin’ you shitty shota!” Iruma scowled, jumping to Kiibo’s defense. “Just the other day you were buggin’ Kiibo about exactly that, so don’t even try pulling that shit!”

“Hmm, was I? I don’t remember…” Ouma lied once more, irritating Iruma even further. “Either way, an ignorant slut like you shouldn’t be-”

“Aaargh, that’s enough!” Monokuma thrashed about, waving his paws in the air angrily. “I didn’t call this meeting for you guys to bicker like little kids! You’re ruining the moment!”

A silence befell them, allowing Monokuma to continue.

“I’m introducing the new motive and that’s final!” He announced, composing himself. “Now, since you idiots were too busy arguing, I bet you didn’t even notice that you’re one student short!”

On cue, everyone began looking around in order to confirm Monokuma’s words.

“Atua says that Shuichi is the one missing!” Yonaga declared proudly, clasping her hands together.

“Oh, yeah! About that...” Momota began, “He wasn’t feeling good when I went to check on him this morning, so I figured it would be fine for him to sit this one out… He looked pretty bad.”

“Did you provide him with any medical attention, at the very least?” Tojo asked, voice laced with concern.

“Err…” Momota glanced to the side, a guilty expression adorning his face. “I might’ve forgotten about that when the announcement was made…”

“So you just left my beloved Saihara-chan to die?! How cruel, Momota-chan! And here I thought the two of you were all buddy-buddy or something!” Ouma cried, crocodile tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“T-That’s not true! We were going to check on him as soon as this was over! Right, Maki Roll?” Momota sputtered, struggling to defend himself.

“...That’s right.” Harukawa agreed, fiddling with her pigtails in response to Momota’s pet name for her.

“Upupu!” Monokuma laughed, lifting his paws to cover his smiling face. “Looks like everything is going just as planned!”

“...Just as I thought.” Amami concluded, bringing a hand to his chin as he spoke his thoughts aloud. “Saihara-kun’s illness must have something to do with Monokuma’s new motive.”

Akamatsu gasped in surprise, frowning as she processed the implications of Amami’s statement. “Is that true, Monokuma? Did you do something to Saihara-kun?”

“Upupupu! I call it…” He paused dramatically for effect, “the despair disease!”

A wave of silence washed over them, the students carefully pondering over Monokuma’s words.

“Diss-pear duh-seeze…” Gokuhara sounded out, attempting to understand the information he had been given. “Gonta not sure he understand…”

“Nyeh…” Yumeno groaned, voicing her confusion. “Am I the only one who’s lost?”

“Tell us, Monokuma…” Shinguji spoke cautiously, “What is this ‘despair disease’ you speak of?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely I might as well tell you all!” Monokuma grinned, preparing to explain himself. “The despair disease is a highly contagious illness that affects each and every student differently, depending on the strain that they contract! The symptoms can range from physical ailments to complete personality changes, so I’d be careful if I were you!”

“Personality changes…?” Harukawa repeated to herself, turning to address Momota. “Did you notice anything unusual when you checked on Saihara earlier?”

“Now that you mention it, he was acting kind of weird…” Momota admitted, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind. “Alright, I’ve decided! Me and Maki Roll will watch over Shuichi until he gets better!” He declared boldly.

“What about the two of you, then?” Hoshi questioned, raising an eyebrow. “If this disease is as contagious as Monokuma just said doesn’t that put the two of you at risk?”

“Don’t worry about that! I, Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars, am naturally immune to all types of sickness! I could never let something as silly as being sick bring me down!” Momota boasted.

“You’re such an idiot…” Harukawa twirled a loose strand of hair between her fingers, a faint smile visible on her face. “But don’t worry about us. After we make sure Saihara is feeling alright, we’ll leave so that we don’t contract the illness.”

“Good luck, you two!” Akamatsu encouraged, flashing them a bright smile.

Momota gave her a thumbs up, heading out of the gymnasium with Harukawa in tow. One by one, the rest of the students exited as well, leaving only Monokuma.

“Upupupu…” He laughed to himself, grinning knowingly. “Let’s see how they deal with this...”

~~~~~

After arriving at Saihara’s dorm, Momota knocked on the door while Harukawa waited.

“Yo, Shuichi! You holdin’ up in there?” Momota asked, speaking loud enough for practically every dorm to hear him. “Me and Maki Roll came to check up on ya!”

Saihara faintly called out to them, informing them that the door should be open. Momota and Harukawa entered, immediately noticing a sick-looking Saihara sitting up in bed.

“Damn, you still look pretty bad…” Momota observed aloud, stepping closer to him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m so tired, Momota-kun…” Saihara drawled, flashing him a coy expression. “I was up all night thinking about you…” He smiled innocently, fingers grazing his lips as he watched Momota’s concerned expression morph into one of bewilderment.

“Huh?” Momota recoiled, taken aback by Saihara’s sudden advances. “Shuichi, what are you talking about?”

Before Saihara could answer, Harukawa approached, placing the back of her hand on his forehead in order to check his temperature.

“He has a crazy high fever…” Harukawa stated, moving to pull her hand away.

But before she could retract it completely, Saihara took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers.

“Your hands are beautiful, Harukawa-san…” He gave her hand a squeeze, looking up to make eye contact with her. “Just like the rest of you.” Saihara smirked, a beguiling expression dressing his face.

Harukawa was quick to pull her hand away, wiping it on her sleeve. “And your hands are sweaty.” She stated flatly, shooting Momota a quick look. With a sigh, she continued. “So, let me guess. You have a strain of the despair disease that makes you flirt with everyone you come in contact with. Correct?”

“Despair disease…?” Saihara repeated, “You’ve got it all wrong, Harukawa-san…” Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, the heat of his fever adding to the already prominent flush on his face. “The only disease I have is love sickness.”

“Do you want to die?” She threatened, expecting to wipe the smirk right off of Saihara’s face. But he continued to smile as he averted his eyes, another witty remark hanging off the tip of his tongue.

“Uhh… Can I talk to you for a minute, Maki Roll?” Momota spoke in a hushed voice, pulling her aside while Saihara simply observed. “Shuichi is acting kind of… weird, right?”

Harukawa rolled her eyes, another sigh escaping her lips. It was just like Momota to be this dense, especially when it came to flirting. Nevertheless, she responded, speaking in a low voice.

“Yeah…” She agreed. “Definitely weird.”

“So, what should we do?” Momota glanced at Saihara, who was simply staring down at the bedsheets. “I mean, someone has to take care of him… Right?”

“I don’t think we should leave him alone in this state…” Harukawa admitted. Despite Saihara’s odd behavior, it just wouldn’t be right to leave a sick person all by themselves. “I guess… We can keep an eye on him until nighttime.”

“Hmm… Alright! I trust you!” Momota gave her a small pat on the arm before turning back to Saihara, who seemed to be in a daze. “Listen up, Shuichi! Maki Roll and I are gonna be taking care of you until you feel better, so you better snap out of it!”

“Aha… Snap out of what?” Saihara responded, laughing a bit to himself.

Momota and Harukawa shared a suspect glance, before resigning themselves to their fate.

It was going to be a long day.

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kindness-ricochets · 3 years

Note

ur thoughts on wylan and kaz? as characters or ur general hc's for them together after soc or anything else. just ur general thoughts on these characters in tandem.

In writing my response, I rambled for a bit and may and may not have actually answered your question... so while I hope this interests you and is what you meant, feel free to drop a line if I completely missed the mark!

They’re perfect opposites—by which I mean entirely different in all the ways they’re the same.

Wylan and Kaz share an almost absolute emptiness of coherent thought regarding themselves, Wylan emotionally and Kaz physically. Kaz always pushes himself too hard, he never sleeps, he’s basically made of coffee and spite. Wylan can overlook any level of mistreatment because he is so thoroughly conditioned to it, except that he genuinely believes this can be a form of love.

As a result, both deal with grievous personal wrongs using a loved one as a proxy.

Kaz has every reason to hate Pekka Rollins as the architect of his trauma and sometimes he does acknowledge this. He’ll have lines about Pekka taking everything from him. That he “had a lot of things”. It’s about Jordie, always. Avenging Jordie’s death is a perfectly valid motivator, but Kaz takes it to an extreme degree. (This is an interesting contrast between him and Inej, too. Inej recognizes that what was done to her was wrong; though deeply traumatized by it, she is able to recognize that she was mistreated, that she can seek revenge for herself and others like her.)

Wylan has every reason to hate his father. But he doesn’t. Not only doesn’t he, he blames himself every time. Jan wanted a real son, a proper heir, it’s Wylan’s fault; who else would love him enough to be honest with him? It’s only when he learns about Marya that Wylan can begin to process what his father truly is. Eight years of abuse culminating in attempted murder and public humiliation is one thing… not at all intended to downplay the horror of Marya’s situation, not at all! Just that it’s the only way Wylan is able to begin to process his feelings toward his father.

Maybe as an aspect of this, maybe as a coincidence to it, both are very conscious of the people are them—it’s just that Kaz’s consciousness is ruthlessly pragmatic while Wylan’s is sweet. Kaz is always aware of every player, how to use them, and how to manipulate them. Wylan is concerned—about Jesper losing his guns, about Nina catching cold in her skimpy outfit, about Alys who was sweet and silly and meant no harm to anyone. A perfect example is their conversation about Jesper.

[“]Who knows? Jesper may even win his revolvers back.” “I hope so,” said Wylan as they hopped onto a browboat crowded with tourists and headed south down the Stave. “You would.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Someone like Jesper wins two hands and starts to call it a streak. Eventually he loses, and that just leaves him hungrier for the next run of good luck. The house relies on it.” Then why make him walk into a gambling den?

Both have a personal connection to Jesper; Kaz does his closest approximation to loving him as a brother, while Wylan’s little crush is starting to feel like maybe something more. And they have opposite approaches to his addiction. Kaz uses it. Ruthlessly. (Granted, this is Kaz at his lowest, but it’s not especially different from how he treated Jesper in the beginning of Six of Crows.) Wylan wants to acknowledge his problem and help him avoid his addiction. He doesn’t want Jesper to have to suffer the loss of something important to him. This also shows in how Wylan and Kaz think about each other. Near the end of Six of Crows, Kaz essentially thinks that he doesn’t care about Wylan’s dyslexia because Wylan has other talents, other uses. Wylan thinks near the middle of Crooked Kingdom that he knows Kaz had other motives, but he still helped Wylan a lot, and is a friend. Kaz’s evaluations are weighed by use, Wylan’s by emotional impact.

Now I’m going to get nerdy. Even more so. When I did developmental psychology, my favorite was always Erikson, who essentially broke human development into stages of crisis and resolution. The 4th is “industry vs. inferiority”—basically, competence. And they resolve to extreme opposite ends of the spectrum. Kaz is industrious, competent and capable, determined from the moment he was reborn in that canal. He doesn’t stop. He makes plans and acts on them. Wylan feels inferior, and often struggles—even with things he knows how to do, he needs to be told to do them, or can’t quite put two and two together about the situation around him. (The fact that Wylan’s crisis comes to a more positive resolution, that he begins to develop competence, throughout Crooked Kingdom is… frankly, wonderful. Wylan wasn’t inherently bad at things. He just didn’t have support to grow.)

These opposite resolutions also relate to where they fall on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Kaz is left without the most basic things, physiological and safety needs, things like food, water, and shelter. He has to adapt and he has to adapt fast—because he’s alone. And if he’s going to survive, if he’s going to see Jordie given justice, he needs to get to work. Wylan has those needs met, placing him at the point of psychological needs—belongingness, love, esteem. Jan took care of Wylan’s basic needs, but dealt him blow after blow toward his psychological needs through isolation and emotional abuse. This highlights another difference: Kaz’s damage wasn’t dealt by someone who hated him. Pekka was just indifferent. The Barrel was full of lost children who would take a mouthful of bread from a weaker boy because they needed it to survive. It was indifference, for Kaz. But for Wylan, it was at best disdain, at worst hatred.

This sets them apart from the other Crows. Inej was 14 when she was taken by slavers. Jesper was around 16 when he was sent to Ketterdam for university. Nina was 16 or 17 when the Fjerdans took her captive. Matthias was I think 11 when he lost his family, which places him just on the cusp of two of Erikson’s stages, but the relevant resolution is to the fifth stage of identity vs. confusion—basically, “Who am I, and who can I become?” Those four developed competence in a more or less healthy way (purely in terms of competence since two were basically child soldiers, but still). Whereas Kaz overcompensates with relentlessness and Wylan freezes up. Both have this sort of jagged place inside them at exactly that point, that the others simply don’t have.

To me, this explains why Kaz and Wylan have the weakest balance between personal and professional lives. Kaz is always plotting, scheming. He has to learn to take a break from the monster and be the man. Wylan is locked up in his own mind. In his first narrated chapter, his first narrated page, he tells us that he feels out of place and doesn’t even know where to put his hands to look normal. Kaz is ready to take over the world while Wylan just wants to exist in his own little corner of it.

#six of crows #kaz brekker #wylan van eck

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softtransbf · 4 years

Text

Mister Nice Guy, part 1

Summary: You’re new to the BAU and get along well with everyone, almost. You can’t figure out why the infuriatingly handsome Dr. Spencer Reid seems to hate you so much.

Word Count: 2222

Reader: Trans man, he/him pronouns, no physical description.

Warnings: Alcohol, brief description of a case and therefore murder. Nothing graphic.

(Part two)

~~~~~~~~~~

It was your first day at the BAU, and you were so excited. It took all of your willpower not to skip from the elevator to your new boss' office. You definitely caught a sideways glance from an incredibly handsome man with very expressive eyebrows, but you didn't let it concern you; you'd worked too damn hard for too damn long to let anyone bring you down today. You got to the door and knocked sharply.

"Agent L/N, please, come in," came a voice from inside the room. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

You'd heard stories about Aaron Hotchner and the BAU- everyone had. Most people only heard the good parts- the heroic tales, the happy endings. But you liked to be prepared, to know the truth of what you were going after, so you'd also paid attention to the quieter whispers. The imposing boss who never smiles, the weird and maybe-pseudo-sexual relationship between the exuberant tech analyst and one of the profilers, the betting pool on whether or not the two female profilers were secretly gay for each other, true crime writer extraordinaire and profiling legend David Rossi leaving retirement to mostly be snarky, and the young agent with multiple doctorates who is smarter than seems humanly possible. You would never admit it, but you were particularly eager to meet the genius. He guest lectured once in your friend's linguistics class your last semester before graduating, and xe wouldn't shut up about him for an entire week. When you told xem that your transfer was approved, xe begged for "a full rundown on what he's like up close and personal" after your first case. But first, you needed to meet with SSA Hotchner.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." You thanked your lucky star that your voice didn't shake.

"It's a pleasure to have you. I heard nothing but the best about you from your previous supervisor. Officially, all the paperwork has gone through for your transfer, but I would like to ask a couple of questions before we get started."

"Of course, sir. What would you like to know?" One corner of his mouth ticked up slightly for a fraction of a second, and you counted that as a major victory.

"First and foremost, why are you interested in the BAU?" You relaxed slightly; you'd prepared for this question.

"Human behavior is nothing short of fascinating. Everyone is shaped by a unique set of experiences, but at the end of the day, we all behave in documented patterns. Everything matters, because it shapes who we are, but also nothing does, because we all end up in one of a finite number of 'shapes', so to speak. No one is the same, but we all exhibit set behavioral patterns. No matter what someone's gone through, at the end of the day, they are still understandable and predictable. I find that absolutely fascinating, and the work that the BAU does with that is incredible. I want to be a part of it, and I have the skill and drive to do so. After all, the BAU essentially wrote the handbook for Crisis Negotiation."

"That is a very interesting perspective, agent." His face was neutral, but you detected approval in his tone. "I only had one other matter to bring up- I see two different first names in your paperwork, and two of your references refer to you with different pronouns. Which name do you prefer, and what are your pronouns?"

You were floored; you'd never had a supervisor so casually look past paperwork outing you. "Y/N, sir, and he/him/his."

"Wonderful. Well, Y/N, welcome to the BAU. Let's go meet the team, shall we?" You nodded and followed him out his door into the meeting room, where the rest of the team was assembled.

"Everyone, this is Special Agent Y/N L/N. He has just transferred from Crisis Negotiation."

"Oh! New guy! Hi hi hi! I'm Penelope Garcia, just call me Penelope, and I do all the tech-y, research-y stuff." She made her way across the room to you as she spoke, talking with her hands.

"Pleasure to meet you, Penelope! I love the look you're rocking, by the way. Those shoes in particular are magnificent." You knew you were being the gay sterotype that you'd spent your career trying to avoid, but shoes that good could not go uncomplimented.

"Oh my goodness, thank you!" she said to you before stage-whispering to the rest of the team, "I like him! Let's keep him." The team laughed, and you blushed. It seemed that Hotchner had wordlessly passed on the duties of making the introductions to her, because she pointed to the agent closest to her, handsome-guy-with-the-eyebrows from earlier, and continued on.

"Okay, so, this is Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, but we all call her JJ, David Rossi, and Dr Spencer Reid." They all nodded, smiled, and/or waved slightly when they were introduced, with the exception of Dr Reid, who looked almost like he was looking at a puzzle. You chalked the feeling in your gut it gave you to first-day nerves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, and I look forward to getting to know you all better as time goes on." You were addressing everyone, but something about the way Dr. Reid was staring at you made it difficult to look away from him for too long.

"Wonderful! Now, as much as I wish we could all chit-chat and get to know Y/N better, we do have a case. Last night, a body was found in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park."

The case was interesting, twin injustice collectors, one more mission oriented, the other interested almost entirely on experimenting with different forms of torture on the victims. The former, over the weeks between kills, had started dating one of the local detectives, neither of them knowing of the other's involvement in the case. You were there when that information came to light at the killer's arrest, and you were able to diffuse the situation, ensuring that no one was harmed.

On the flight back, Prentiss insisted on the whole team going out for drinks to welcome you to the team. Hotchner declined, because he needed to get back to Jack, and Rossi said he had "plans with Tony Bennett", but everyone else agreed, mostly enthusiastically. It took significant persuasion from JJ to get Reid to agree to go out with you all. For the whole case, he was abrupt and distant with you, despite your best efforts. You knew it was silly, but you really wanted your coworkers to like you, so you decided you were going to do your absolute best to get him to like you by the end of the night.

"Hey, doc, first round's on me. What'll it be?" You'd noticed during the case that he shrugged off all of your attempts to start a conversation, but you figured that even he wouldn't ignore you under these circumstances.

"Uh, white wine would be great, thanks."

"White wine? At a dive bar? Does this bar even have white wine?" You'd intended to be charming, but, seriously, white wine? Who was this guy?

He opened his mouth, clearly indignant, but he was interrupted by Morgan chuckling from behind you both.

"That's why we go to this dump, newbie. It's the only bar in the area that serves white wine, which is all Pretty Boy here drinks." He winked at you and playfully elbowed Reid in the ribs.

You threw your hands up in mock surrender and chuckled. "Okay, okay, white wine for the good doctor it is. What's your poison? I'm sure word's gotten around that the first round is on me."

"You know, I might have heard something about that, and I most definitely wouldn't say no to a dirty martini." He winked at you, and your chuckle turned into full-on laughter.

You got the bartender's attention and ordered their drinks and a Jack and Coke for yourself. "It's a damn shame you're straight, Derek. Truly a crime against queer men everywhere, although I'm not so proud I can't admit that I'm a bit glad you're not competition."

"Wait wait wait, how do you know I don't like a little meat on the side?"

"So, sidestepping the fact that not all men have penises and some women do, you are so hetero that it's almost painful. Look around; men of all shapes and sizes outnumber women 2 to 1 at least. But you've spent the whole night making eyes at those women over there." You pointed to a table on the other side of the room. "Plus, I may or may not have received a very detailed string of texts from Penelope that essentially amounted to a crash course on all of y'all. I get a feeling that she might like me a little bit."

"My bad on the meat comment- I'll definitely fix that. And speaking of Penelope being a font of information, she's been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about you. What's your big secret, new guy?"

You raised an eyebrow and sipped your drink. "All you need to know is that Hotch, who strikes me as even more protective of this team than he lets on, which is really saying something, knows, and he cares less than any brass I've ever met. And I know for a fact that if Penelope thought it was concerning, she'd have at least voiced some suspicions about me, if not told you outright. I'm not ashamed of it, it's just none of y'alls business. Anyway, the blonde from the table you were eyeing earlier is coming over to see if we've been flirting this whole time so she knows whether to flirt with you or gush about how she's always wanted a Gay Best Friend oh my god. If I'm still here, it'll be both, and I'm allergic to that particular brand of cishet nonsense. Have fun, good-lookin'." You chuckled and patted him on the shoulder as you left, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Reid roll his eyes, down his drink, and walk in the other direction. What is his deal? Whatever. I'm not about to let him wet blanket all over tonight. You took out your phone and sent out a couple of quick texts.

[To: Penelope]: Thank you for not outing me. It means the world to me. Let's get brunch sometime?

[To: Nerd <3]: you sure Reid seemed pleasant when he lectured? that has Not been my experience with him so far. you were right about him being Cute cute, though, damn. a Gay could get lost in those big brown eyes, and in different circumstances I'd climb him like a tree. shame he's Like That lmao

Looking up from your phone, you saw Emily and JJ nearby, so you went over to join them.

"Oh em gee Y/N you're gay? I had, like, no idea! We should, like, totally get brunch and then go shopping! This is gonna be so much fun; I've always wanted a gay best friend!" You rolled your eyes and laughed at Emily's terrible Valley Girl accent. "Unfortunately, I did not spend my time in the closet learning anything about clothes. I only dress halfway decently for work because my friend dragged me to the mall and updated my wardrobe when I applied for this position. It's all xir doing."

"Well, xe has excellent taste." You mentally filed away JJ's effortless use of neopronouns.

"I'll be sure to let xem know! I'm so down for brunch, though." You checked your phone. "Looks like Garcia is too!"

"Damn, you work fast. You'll fit right in here," Emily laughed.

"Honestly, I'm a little bit blown away by how awesome and welcoming you all are. Well, mostly. Is Spencer like this with every new person, or did I somehow do something to offend him?" Emily and JJ shared a look you couldn't quite read before JJ answered.

"Spencer…" she hesitated, "He's going through something right now. I'm sure he'll figure it out soon, and things will smooth out."

So you waited. Weeks passed, and you fit in well with the team. You ended up getting close to Derek and Penelope in particular, and you kept trying to make nice with Spencer. Weeks of cold shoulder and as few words as possible to you while being his normal, verbose self with everyone else. So, three weeks into your new job, on a night out with Derek and Penelope you made a decision.

"Look. It's been weeks, and the guy still won't say more than 5 words to me. I'm done trying to… I don't know what I was even trying to do," you slurred, you’d probably had one drink too many. "Make a friend, maybe? I don't even know. But I'm done. He wants to give taciturn bordering on rude? Then that's what he'll receive. Let's see how Pretty Boy likes a taste of his own medicine. No more Mister Nice Guy." You wouldn't remember the look they shared until much later.

And so, your silent war with Spencer truly began.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #otp: pretty boys

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

imitheos. (oikawa tooru)

➵ oikawa barely recognises the god he used to be.

wc: 3.8k

warnings: gn!reader, greek god au, melancholia? angst? is that something to warn people about?

a/n: so this got away from me, and ended up half a character study, but,,, @kacchand (sorry for tagging this one but i couldn’t tag @kacchand-archive aa) thank you so much for the warm, lovely things you’ve said to me ever since stumbling across my blog, and for complimenting my oikawa specifically. it’s those sorts of compliments that makes me feel all soft!

Oikawa Tooru. He’s still not sure of the name. He never chooses them himself; they come to him, quite naturally, each time he assumes a new form. Each time he knits himself a backstory, he wonders what this life will bring. If it will be better than the last.

He hasn’t always been Oikawa Tooru. He’s been many other forms littered throughout history, recycling the same ego. And before each of those, he was Apollo.

Apollo had been a god amongst gods, deity of so much and so many. He could absolve men of guilt, gift mortals with the power of prophecy, balance their lives in his hands as he commanded the fate of their crops. Even the gods feared him, loved him, revered him.

But he is no longer Apollo. He is a whisper of him, a half-forgotten shadow.

His old name is everywhere. Rocket ships, theatres, philosophical concepts. He’s watched countless effigies to his old self shoot themselves into the sky, chasing a distance once thought unreachable. They always seem to take the light with them, blazing into the darkness.

But Apollo is just a name, now. Everything he used to symbolise seems to pass through him like white smoke.

It’s so hard to find the light in this endless winter.

Archery is just a niche hobby, now. Wars are won through other means.

Disease and the means to combat it are far past his sphere of influence now. Both continue to take on new and frightening forms that even he couldn’t conjure.

There is no space in this world for prophecy anymore. Such things are considered untruths, the trade of hackneyed swindlers masquerading as fortune tellers.

But poetry. Poetry refuses to die.

Sunday afternoon. The sky is already dark. Slam poetry night at a dingy little coffee shop. He’s sat in his usual spot, a dark corner that grants him a clear view of the makeshift stage at the back of the shop. It’s the best spot to melt away into, to become a true observer.

He’s not sure why he’s come here. The coffee itself isn’t particularly good, nor is the atmosphere of the place much to his liking. It’s a little dingy, reliant on weak oil lamps for light. He knows that it’s supposed to give off a retro vibe, but he thinks it just makes it miserable. There’s the smell of musk too, permeated through both wood and cushion.

But something is drawing him to this place. Something, beating against the fabric of the universe, is telling him that this is where he’s supposed to be.

He still doesn’t know why.

You smile at him from across the room, giving him a small wave. You usually work Sunday afternoons, right until close. He isn’t sure of your name, and usually, he wouldn’t care.

But every Sunday, you seem to take it upon yourself to fulfil his orders. Once upon a time, he would’ve been sure that it was his charm that induced you to do so; mortals often found it hard to resist the gods, after all. But he’s not so sure he can still claim that allure.

“You’re becoming a bit of a regular,” you smile, setting his drink down in front of him. Something made with honey, but he’s not sure what. He never pays much attention when he orders.

Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’re always here on Sundays,” you nod, daring to meet his gaze. “But you’ve never performed yourself.”

Oikawa smiles. One person, at the very least, has noticed his existence. That’s as powerful as a prayer these days.

“I take it you’re a fan,” you remark, eyes scanning his face.

Oikawa nods. “You could say that.”

You smile. It’s small, and he wonders if it’s merely a nicety. “Of slam poetry in particular, or…”

Ah. Yes.

He wants to say it’s because he’s tired of typical poetry. Tired of all its embellishments and platitudes. Slam poetry is newer, younger, angrier. There’s a rawness to it, a rage that speaks to something more visceral in him. Pretty words are not enough anymore.

It’s an offering of something else, of a yearning he still struggles to place. It’s a call for something better, for change, for vindication.

But he won’t bore you with that. You’re just a waiter, making small talk to be polite.

“My preferences change often,” he shrugs.

He appraises you for a moment, clad in a button-up shirt and dress trousers, a charmingly small apron wrapped around your waist. He’s not paid you much mind before; maybe because he’s been looking too hard.

He once thought that this café was drawing him towards a modern muse, an echo of Melpomene. Or perhaps Erato? But it hadn’t been that at all. It had been a call to draw him to you.

For what, he can’t say. But this small moment, this little recognition in the back of a dingy coffee shop on a dour Sunday afternoon in the midst of winter, is the closest he’s felt to worship in aeons.

He fears, for a moment, that you might be Daphne. Or maybe Marpessa. He’s already lost another Hyacinth; not to death, but to the rhythm of life. The pull of a world to which Oikawa couldn’t follow. How long had it been since Hajime left?

Oikawa can’t say.

But he’s been so lonely. So faded.

Whoever you are, whoever you were, does not matter.

What matters is that you’re the first person in a very long time who can see him.

☉ ☉ ☉

“Back again,” you smile. Another drink with honey is placed in front of him. It’s the only thing he’s been ordering for the past few weeks.

He nods, looking up at you with a smile. He knows it’s dead behind the eyes, but he’s trying. He hopes, quietly, that the darkness will mask it.

“You must really enjoy the poetry,” you remark, looking over your shoulder.

One girl has just finished, face flushed with both nervousness and pride. She is young, perhaps barely seventeen, but with the fury of someone who knows too much about the horrors of the world. She’d done quite well by Oikawa’s account. He hadn’t derived much joy from it, but she certainly has potential.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do you prefer more…” You pause, brow furrowed as you search for the words. “Traditional poetry?”

Oikawa shakes his head.

Perhaps his tastes would err more to the modern, if he knew more about it. But the fact of the matter is that he simply doesn’t have a clue. Too much time spent with volleyball preoccupying most of his thoughts, and very little time keeping up with the artistic scene of the last decade and a half.

He can’t speak as an expert. But he can speak as the god who invented poetry, who gave mortals the means with which to express their magnitudes. A gift, he’d said. To turn the human experience into something beautiful. But was it for them, or for him?

“The anger is sincere,” he muses, “And they all seem to have poured their soul into their poems.”

You nod, smiling at him. “I wish I was that creative, at their age.”

He looks at you. You look about the same age he should be; twenty-something, maybe? Young, perhaps still in university.

You’ve been spending your breaks with him for a few weeks now.

He doesn’t mind; in fact, he enjoys the company. And, you seem to care about what he has to say, which certainly fluffs his ego.

Why you would care so much about an odd, discreet man sitting in a dark corner of a coffee shop is beyond him.

But he wants to know why. Know more about you. What you love. What you desire.

“What do you want to do with your life?”

The question is sudden, perhaps a bit invasive. It flies from his lips before he has time to reassess it, to craft it into something a bit less intense. He fears, for a moment, that it might scare you – that it might be a bit too much.

But you laugh, tilting your head at him. “That’s a bit of a big question, don’t you think?”

He smiles. “You must have some idea.”

You sigh, shrugging. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I need to survive university before I can start worrying about that sort of stuff.”

He hums.

“What about you?” You ask, polite smile gracing your lips.

He bites the inside of his cheek, his brows creasing. “Not sure.”

He might have dreamed of greatness a while ago. He would’ve chased volleyball, brilliant and vibrant as he was.

Who would have thought that Apollo would find his heart in something so coarse as sport? For a moment, however brief, he’d felt like he might be able to shrug off this immortal shackle. To exist for himself, and not as a mere echo reliant on mortal belief. To maybe, finally, have a chance to live as he wanted to, dictated by his own desires.

That last spark of vibrant humanity had spluttered out the day they lost that one fateful match.

He had wanted to chase his own dreams, the tangible passions he’d discovered as a mortal. He hadn’t wanted to be this, a pathetic half-god that was fading into the grey. But that was the trappings of his dying godhood – a life half-lived, a dream unfulfilled. Where would he be, if he had been able to take on the world as Oikawa Tooru?

Happier, he supposes. Though, he can’t be sure. Because maybe this early evening, grey and cold and bitter, almost tastes like happiness. Almost. And he knows why.

☉ ☉ ☉

There’s a glow to him. He doesn’t notice it; he’s been brighter in the past, blindingly radiant. He was once considered the most beautiful of the gods for a reason.

But to you, this distant, peculiar man is beautiful. There’s something of a fallen giant to him; is he the sort of person whose glory days has long since passed? Had he been a high school hero maybe?

There’s something else to him, too. Something strange. Something esoteric.

You don’t quite know how to explain it.

It’s like he’s asking – no, begging someone to acknowledge him. To breathe new life into him.

And for all his strange, aggressive indifference, there’s a little flame in him. One that seems like it’s been burning for centuries, too stubborn to flicker out.

You haven’t missed how it’s getting brighter.

He only comes in on Sundays, staying from three until eight. If his prolonged presence bothers your co-workers, they don’t mention it.

Perhaps it’s silly to be so fascinated by a complete stranger, especially one that simply sits in a corner and watches. Perhaps it is even sillier to spend your breaks with him. But it’s as if you can’t help yourself; something pulls you towards him, even if you don’t understand it.

“What about the Greeks?” You ask one evening, sitting next to him in his booth.

His smile is bemused at best. “What about them?”

“Well… they’re classics,” you muse, “Are you a fan, or…?”

“Homer can suck my dick,” Oikawa grumbles. He never quite forgave that man for the unflattering portrait of his godliness.

You laugh. There’s an echo of a lyre in it. He wonders, for a moment, what you might look like with a laurel woven through your hair, smiling on a Pierian coast in the height of a blistering summer.

He doesn’t let his mind wander too far.

“I’m not really one for poetry,” you murmur, looking down at your hands.

“Is that so?” Oikawa smiles, taking a sip of his coffee. It’s lukewarm after sitting on the table for so long, but he doesn’t mind.

You shake your head. “I find it difficult to wrap my head around. It makes me feel kind of stupid.”

He nods. He used to understand poetry so well – in the darkest of nights, it was often the only thing he understood. It used to be laced with his very being, threaded through his body like veins. But now, it just fills him with bitterness.

“I like the classics, though,” you smile softly, playing with your fingers. “There’s something about the simplicity and straightforwardness of the language that appeal to me. And, I don’t know…” You bite your lip. “Some emotions seem to transcend time and culture. And some of the classics are so… raw. So… human.”

‘Human.’ He gazes at you, that word in particular playing over in his mind. There’s some truth in the classics, he supposes. Something in them that echoes across the centuries. But he’s been around far too long to care for patterns and parallels.

“Sorry,” you blush, smoothing your apron. “I must be boring you.”

“Not at all.” Oikawa shakes his head, leaning towards you. He takes another sip of his coffee. It’s cold now. “So, you’re a history buff, then?”

Maybe you are Clio, after all.

You shrug. “Only ancient history, really. But I haven’t read as much about it as I should’ve.”

“Are you a fan of the myths?” He asks, a playful lilt to his voice. He knows you won’t get the joke, but he doesn’t mind.

“Some,” you nod. “Why?”

“Know any about Apollo?”

“Apollo?” You smile. His old name sounds like a melody on your lips. “As in the god?”

“Sure.” Who else could he mean?

You pause for a moment, pressing your lips together. It’s a beautiful silence.

“Have you read Plato’s Symposium, by any chance?” You ask, gaze meeting his.

He nods. He doesn’t mind Plato; the man had been grateful for the gift of music, after all.

“There’s a story in it I really like,” you murmur, eyes turning towards the roof. “Well, it’s more of a myth, but… it’s the one about soulmates.”

“Oh?”

“Do you know it?”

“Vaguely.” Of course he knows it. He just wants to hear it retold in your voice.

“Well, alright,” you clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter. “There were three kinds of humans, descended from the sun, the earth and the moon. All had four arms and four legs, two faces, et cetera. But, the gods felt they were too unruly and powerful. By Zeus’ count, this was unacceptable, and he wanted to humble them.”

Oikawa hopes his expression is neutral enough. How is Zeus? Is he still around?

“Instead of simply destroying them, he split them in two,” you continue. “And that made us miserable.”

Your use of the word ‘us’ intrigues him, but he wants to save his questions for later.

“But, Apollo took pity on us,” you smile. “He decided to patch us up, and shape us into, well… the form we have today. The story goes that our navel is where he sewed our broken skin together. But he turned our heads around to what had once been our back, so we’d have to look at that mark as a reminder of our punishment and how incomplete we are.”

It does not matter to him if there is any truth in this story. Regardless, it certainly sounds like the folly of the gods.

“Once we were split, the two halves were flung to the far ends of the earth. From then on, each of us yearns with both body and soul to be reunited with our other half.” Your voice is so lyrical, so comforting. It is, perhaps, the closest thing to music he’s heard in a while. “Those of us who are lucky enough to find them supposedly know no greater joy. We’ll never feel so understood, so complete. Most of us though, will never know that joy.”

Perhaps the gods didn’t deserve the reverence they got. Perhaps they really had been tyrants, all along. But then again, there was little love between gods and mortals; if anything, worship was simply a reflection of the fears the divine inspired.

A new question itches at the back of his mind.

“Do you believe in life after death?” He asks.

You blink at him, eyes wide and round. “Well, I… I don’t know, really.”

He knows it’s a heavy question. He knows that he didn’t prepare you for it, and that it’s only tenuously connected to the conversation at hand. But, he always found that people were at their most honest when they were caught off guard.

“I don’t like thinking about it,” you admit, looking down at your hands. “It makes me all existential.”

Oikawa nods. Most humans react like this.

The relationship between mortals and death has always fascinated him. Fear, loathing, regret. It’s all bundled together. Sometimes, there is comfort. Sometimes, there is a sense of calm. But it is never easy to face the unknown, after such a brief stint of being alive.

It’s something he cannot understand in this existence of his that stretches itself thin across the millenniums.

What is death to a god? He imagines it must be something like relief.

☉ ☉ ☉

“Do you write yourself?” It’s a little question, one he knows was coming.

He doesn’t know how to answer.

You sit next to him in the lamplight, eyes sparkling as they always do. If he was more human, maybe he would compare them to the stars. Or perhaps the ocean after a storm. But he is not human, much less a poet.

How does he say that he’s never needed to? That his patronage, his presence alone was enough to inspire those classics you so dearly love? That he himself has never put lyrics to the human experience?

He has always been a god. There is no beauty to his experience; only in those small pockets of human intimacy he’s been granted across the centuries. There is no beauty to the life of a god – only fire, and fury, and hubris. Even his body is unlike yours; he has no heart, and he bleeds ichor.

“Not really,” he shrugs. It’s all he can say.

“‘Not really’ implies that you write at least a little,” you smile, leaning towards him.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t really have time to do something like that.” He pauses for a moment. Should he tell you? Should he reveal more of himself than is maybe wise? “I played volleyball in high school.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, tilting your head at him.

“I was good, too,” he sighs, brow furrowing. “But my team never made it to nationals.”

“Oh.” You look genuinely sad. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. There’s little else to do.

“I wanted to go further,” he admits. The lamplight casts a long shadow on his face, each feature soft and delicate as marble.

Each form, each reiteration, wants more.

So much of what he’s done this time doesn’t echo the traditional Apollonian figure. There is no art, this time. No song.

There was drama in sport, but it was different. It had filled him with a passion he’d never felt before, beating in his chest just like a heart would. It provided that rush of adrenaline, the brutal awareness of the importance of just one moment. Eternity stretches on forever for a god, but a game must end. Perhaps, in some way, death is very much the same.

He wants that closure. That passion for the now.

Now, more than ever before, he wants to be mortal. To lose himself in the storm that is being human – he wants it all. He wants to let go of the god he no longer is.

Where does Apollo end? Where does Oikawa Tooru begin?

☉ ☉ ☉

Time is passing again. Each day is over before it’s even begun, slipping through his fingers like a lucid dream. A heartbeat that isn’t his own thrums in his ears, quick and loud and frantic.

And yet, he finds himself outside the coffee shop, standing on the curb. You’re next to him, hands dug deep in your pockets. He’s arrived earlier than usual, catching you right at the beginning of your shift.

There’s something he wants – no, needs to say. Something that can’t wait.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, looking up at the sky. It’s pale, a shade found in-between blue and grey. A perfect winter sky, one you might find on a postcard trying to capture the beauty of the season.

Something is pressing on his chest, heavy and immovable. It feels like a goodbye.

“What for?” You laugh. It really is a delightful sound.

Where to begin? You couldn’t possibly comprehend it. Nor would you believe him. If he speaks too frankly, you may not remember him fondly.

“For the coffee,” he says.

There’s more he wants to say. Something about how, maybe, in another life, there could have been something more between the two of you. Something quite beautiful.

But he knows it’s wiser not to speak that into being. If you feel even a modicum of these emotions, then silence would be an act of kindness.

“Are you… going somewhere?” You ask, all signs of levity gone from your face. He regrets speaking at all now.

“Something like that,” he murmurs. It’s the closest he can get to the truth.

A long silence ensues. Oikawa doesn’t know if he should try to fill it; perhaps he should just let it sit for a while? To enjoy this little moment with you, standing with you in front of a dingy coffee shop on a dour Sunday night in the midst of winter.

Because this moment cannot last. Because nothing can.

“Well,” you clear your throat, eyes lingering on his face, as if you’re committing each detail to memory.

He smiles at you. He’s not aware of it, but it’s almost blinding. It brings a warmth to his face that you’ve never seen before, a warmth that makes him so striking, so beautiful, that you know you won’t be able to find the words to praise it.

“I hope I’ll see you again,” you murmur. It’s the best you can manage, keeping your feelings in your heart as best you can.

“Me too.”

He means it.

It’s time to go. Where, he’s not sure. But, with all the courage he could muster, he turns his back to you, making his way down the street.

There’s a space in his heart for fear. But it’s empty. Whatever’s coming, whatever’s about to change – he’s ready for it.

He welcomes it.

☉ ☉ ☉

He opens his eyes. He’s tangled in blankets; his own, or someone else’s?

One thought.

My name is Oikawa Tooru.

In the haze of a Sunday morning, he knows nothing else. His eyes flick to the blinds as they flutter with the wind that whispers through his window.

The light floods in.

It’s finally spring.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x you #oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru imagine #haikyuucreations #this was a labour of love #it's different from my usual style but i enjoyed it

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moonbeamsung · 3 years

Text

CRΣΣKS

Love, a second glance, it is not something that we need.

member: jeno

au: guardian angel in disguise!jeno x gn!reader, guardian angel au

word count: 3.4k

genre: angst

warnings: character death/loss, profanity, no happy ending, mentions of religion, questioning/loss of faith

recommended song: 715 - CRΣΣKS by the nor’easters

author’s note: Please be very careful with volume when listening to the song (above) that inspired this story! But even without reading the lyrics/listening, the fic will still make sense, and happy reading :)

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @starryktown

The wind is whistling, weaving in and out of the tall river reeds like an invisible needle and thread, stitching itself into each and every crevice of the world’s gift called nature.

Another one of its many gifts is the young boy that’s resting beside a rushing brook, toes dipped into the cool water and face illuminated by the sun as it beats down onto the earth with celestial strength.

Well, a gift from the heavens, that is.

Sent from the endless skies above, Jeno is your guardian angel, assigned with posing as a humble peasant boy in the village, all to keep a watchful eye on you from afar. In his human form, he spends his days wandering the cobblestone roads and narrow alleyways between the quaint buildings, with no family to return home to at dusk. A sunny meadow on the outskirts of town becomes his home, and he takes refuge in the shelter that the overgrown grass provides.

Everything is going smoothly, and he’s doing his job just as he should be. It’s routine now, waking up and rising from his earthen mattress, curtains of copious plant leaves letting in the sun’s rays. He finds you, observes at a comfortable distance, and that’s that. At its core, being a guardian is really an easy job. A predictable one.

A monotonous one.

Until one day you approach him, youthful eagerness in your eyes piercing and nearly painful, even to his invulnerable body. He’s never seen you up close before, only on the near horizon as you’ve gone about your daily chores, tending to the housework just like any obedient child should.

“...Who are you?”

Now, Jeno is faced with a decision more challenging than any that us mortal beings have to make in our entire lives. Engaging with one’s assignment is an extremely dangerous path to take. Unimaginable punishments await, should the guardian make a wrong choice. But Jeno was careless, and he had allowed himself to be discovered by the only human on Earth that the divine forces permit him to be seen by.

He makes the fatal error of answering you, ultimately shattering a future he’ll never get to live out, one that he doesn’t even know he would’ve had. Like a sharp rock being thrown at a church’s stained glass window, the meticulously carved pieces of his worldly existence fall to the ground with a deafening crash, broken beyond repair.

“I’m Jeno,” the strikingly majestic cadence of his words is like that of angel trumpets, the sound ringing in your head and making you dizzy with both fascination and infatuation.

And just like that, in three short syllables, you’re both fated to fall before you can even spread your wings.

From the moment you hear his name tumble from those beautiful lips, you’re hooked, and he knows it. He sees it in the way you look at him, in the way you act, the way you talk. A child experiencing a first and a forbidden love all at once.

It breaks his heart, because he knows it can’t, and shouldn’t last. The churning rapids of the creek nearby weep for him, for they know that in a matter of just a few short years, their waters are destined to mix with the salty tears that will steadily cascade from your trembling chin.

Jeno remembers, although vaguely, the brief amount of time he spent living amongst the clouds, being prepared by the heavenly elders for this expedition of a lifetime, quite literally. He remembers the scriptures, the strictures, and all the times he’s been warned of the severe consequences that come with immorality.

But even the purest of young angels aren’t infallible, still susceptible to compulsions that lead them to sin and defy their creator.

Relishing in the fading daylight, you join him by the water’s edge, listening to his soothing tone as he answers your ceaseless inquiries with harmless little lies as white as heavenly robes and cherub wings.

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. The first sin.

It’s interesting, he thinks, that despite looking after you in the endeavors of your youth for quite a while now, he knows next to nothing about who you truly are. Actions may speak louder than words, but how can he know that if he’s never heard your voice to begin with?

As the quiet, languid conversation shifts from his purpose there to yours, Jeno learns that you’re very content with your life, taking pride in helping your family with daily tasks as well as assisting your neighbors in the close-knit village with theirs.

Just then, all the smears of dirt and scattered scratches adorning your face catch his attention, gained after hours of hard work. No amount of water is ever enough to scrub them off of your skin at the end of the day, no matter how hard you try. Sometimes, you feel tears prick your eyes as you try to fall asleep at night, frustrated with your lowly appearance and how it never seems to match your relatively optimistic outlook on life.

But Jeno doesn’t care. You’re breathtaking even in his eyes, the eyes that belong to an actual angel. If that fact alone isn’t enough to boost your confidence, he doesn’t know what else possibly could.

Like a fool, he lets himself drown in your sublimity for a moment, marveling at the ethereal glow of the sun on your smooth, ageless face. The faint noise of wisps of air blowing gently through the meadow and rustling the flora makes him drowsy, but the sight of a pure white heron landing gracefully on the opposite side of the riverbank brings him back to full consciousness in an instant.

The bird, an omen of sorts, had been sent down from Heaven, conjured up from a fleeting idea and into a physical reality, by the holy beings looking down upon the earth, indicating that they’re well aware of the threat he poses and just how close he is to making an irreversible mistake in regards to you, his assignment and assignment only.

The heron abruptly unfurls its delicately feathered wings, as if frightened, before taking off and floating away on the breeze, both of your gazes inexplicably drawn to it as it flies until it’s out of sight altogether.

It warns him of just what he’s messing with, exactly.

This is not a part of the creator’s plan for you, for him. Falling in love with the one an angel is supposed to guard is an appalling crime to commit in the eyes of the elders that inhabit the sky, in the eyes of God. Though it doesn’t explicitly go against a commandment or biblical law, it’s just an understood rule. It’s wrong.

Jeno tells himself this, and continues to do so over the many years that he looks after you, never acting on his emotions, only acknowledging them before sending the less-than-acceptable thoughts into the depths of his conscious mind. He only wishes he had a key to lock them up and forget he even felt them in the first place.

Even as an angel, he ages just like anyone else, the both of you going from kids to teenagers and then nearing the young-adult stage of life, with you remaining blissfully unaware of Jeno’s true identity all the while. It’s a miracle he’s managed to keep his secret for this long, honestly, but like grains of sand in an hourglass, your time together is running out, whether you like it or not.

Not even a year before your entire world, your entire reality comes undone before your very eyes, Jeno feels as if his has already done just that. Because you’ve found someone. And that someone isn’t him.

He hates the feeling of jealousy, despises it with every fiber of his heavenly being. But he can’t shake it, can’t bear the way it clings to him like an unwelcome visitor. An unrecognizable emotion, one so foreign that he can’t even put a name to it, is stirred up at the sight of you in their arms, so pure and so unworthy of this person. Boy, if he didn’t know any better, Jeno would swear that you were the angel.

With each day that passes, he begins to feel the final shreds of both his dignity and his self-control slipping away, lost to the familiar breeze that whips through the village, stronger than ever these days. He can no longer contain it within himself. He wants you.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods. The second sin.

How ironic that a Sunday, of all days, is when everything falls apart.

The sun is hanging low in the sky, just barely grazing the horizon with its bright beams of warmth as it steadily rises, bathing the world in a soft yellow glow. You can also see the moon leftover from the night that ended not so long ago, fading fast but visible nonetheless. Two complete opposites, so close but prevented by the laws of nature for coexisting in the same space, at the same time.

Maybe, just maybe, if you knew just how much you had in common with the celestial objects above, you would have clutched the hand of Jeno a bit tighter yesterday, intertwined your fingers a little more closely with those of someone who had become the closest thing to a best friend that you had ever known. You admit that you wish he could be something more, but you know better than to push your limits.

You got tired of waiting to see if he felt the same way, choosing to fill the void with someone else that you liked, yes, but who just wasn’t the same as the boy who had always been there, waiting in the meadow every morning without fail. Still, your emotions are ever-alert and always searching for any sign of reciprocation within Jeno.

He’s nowhere to be found when you reach the water’s edge, the edge of the creek where you wasted away endless summer days and frosty winter nights, colorful spring afternoons and brisk autumn evenings.

This morning would seem no different than the rest if not for his absence. The knot in your heart loosens, but not by much, when you spot him at the forest’s edge, looking weary.

Jeno notices you and calls out your name with a smile, but something about it isn’t genuine. It’s pained, desperate, like he wants to hold onto this moment forever, unwilling to carry out the plan he’s already regretting. It’s too late now, he thinks to himself, but he’s wrong.

It’s been too late for years.

“Jeno?”

“This way!” He chokes out. It’s somewhere between a sob and a plea, but there’s no time to figure out which is the more appropriate term. He disappears between the trees and amidst their mossy branches, blending in with the shadows cast by the thick canopy of leaves, and you break into a sprint, afraid of losing him to the merciless wilderness and what lies within.

Thankfully, he’s not too far gone. A small clearing greets you less than a dozen strides in, and in the very center of it stands a glass gazebo, run-down and covered in so many twisting vines to the point where the small structure is almost fully consumed by the nature surrounding it.

The scene is beautiful, so much so that it makes you uneasy. What’s going on? Why did he bring you here? Why does he seem so sad? Jeno is never sad, maybe he could be described as brooding or solemn on the rarest of occasions, but never this melancholy, never so utterly hopeless in his expressions and his aura.

None of these questions are answered, even as he takes your hands in his own and leads you inside of the gazebo, its see-through panels catching the light with elegance and ease.

“I need to tell you something.” Just like it did the first time you heard it, his voice still shocks you like a bolt of electricity, your blood pressure and heart rate skyrocketing. All of this is heightened, though, by grim tone he’s speaking to you with.

“What is it, Jen?” There it is. The nickname you made up for him that, although simple, makes him feel like he’s on top of the world. Actually, scratch that: it makes him feel like he’s floating in the sky, up past the clouds and even further away from this cruel planet than the heavens are from Hell.

You’re only making this harder for him. He might as well just spit it out, because all this waiting is agonizing for the both of you.

“We... we can’t be together.”

The sentence that leaves his lips is two declarations wrapped up in one singular statement, the first being that he wants to be with you in the same way you want to be with him. It’s much too hopeful, misleading your emotions down a path of elation instead of dread. The second is unpleasant, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue once he says the words.

“...Yes, yes we can, Jen, because I don’t really love them and all this time it’s been you—”

“You don’t understand,” he tries to stop the confession spilling out from your heart before it overflows, drowns you. “I’m not who you think I am.”

Stunned to silence, he gives you a moment to drink in the implications of his words. “...I’ve known you for over half of my entire life, and you’re trying to tell me I have no idea who you really are? Not a chance,” you laugh softly, shaking your head and glancing down at the wooden gazebo floor, old white paint peeling under your feet.

“But haven’t you ever wondered why I’m always there by the creek every morning? How I turn up throughout your day at the perfect time? How I’m suddenly right by your side when you need me the most?”

You have wondered. Many times, in fact. But the possibility of him being anything other than human was not at the top of your very rational list.

“...Don’t you see? I’m your guardian angel.”

He sees you blink, realization dawning on your face like the sun and stretching your features. “There are laws—” He begins, but your reaction is not the one he anticipated you would have to that information.

Too overwhelmed, you can’t respond with anything other than physical actions, no matter how unreasonable, and you press your dry lips to his soft ones, sealing your fate. Standing there, with beams of golden light infiltrating the space and illuminating your unsteady figures, Jeno is petrified not by your kiss, but by the fact that he doesn’t push you away, and his hands hold onto yours even tighter than before. Nothing has ever felt so right in his entire life. Not when he was in Heaven, and not in all the years he’s spent on Earth, either.

You’re his Heaven, this moment is his eternity. Jeno has endured enough temptation, the undeniable thrill that a deliberate sin promises has become too much for him. If he pulls away now, everything would still be okay, you could both go back to normal and pretend this never happened. But alas, he was doomed to kiss you back from the beginning, and so he does, and you have no idea what the universe has in store when you feel his lips finally respond to yours in the most unholy way possible. For the first and last time, you indulge in each other’s touch and taste, and it does not please the ones watching from above.

The third and final sin, one sin too many for him to remain in this world without consequence.

Several things happen all at once. A clap of thunder sounds overhead, though there are no clouds in sight. Jeno is painfully ripped from your grasp and thrown out of the gazebo by some invisible force of nature, into the grass and dirt on the forest floor.

And inside of you, a piece of your soul is torn from your being, bile rising up in your throat as you comprehend the excruciating sensation that racks your body with pained whimpers.

Stumbling to his feet, Jeno heaves, hunched over and close to tears. Suppressing the agony you still feel, you hurry over to him only for the boy to charge away, heading back towards the open meadow. With a broken shout of his name, you follow.

You didn’t notice before, but now the blinding light reveals the condition he’s in. He looks almost normal, but the edges of his form are becoming fainter by the minute, blurring with the rest of the world around him. He’s fading away before your eyes, and it’s all your fault.

It’s a torturous experience, watching him slowly meld with the emptiness of the air. Making him disappear into thin air in an instant would have been an act of mercy, a mercy that’s apparently beyond the capabilities of the spectators in the sky.

Struggling to maintain your composure, you force a question out. “What’s happening?” You ask, though you know he doesn’t have an answer himself.

He’s obviously panicked, though he tries not to show it. “I... I don’t know, I knew that it was forbidden for us to fall in love but I didn’t think I’d be robbed of my existence like this...”

“What?! No, Jeno, please don’t go...” You beg the gods and angels above, if any exist. You don’t know anymore.

If there is a God, how can he be good if he’s taking Jeno away from you like this, depriving you of the one constant source of joy and comfort in your life?

It’s far too cruel to bestow such a kind and generous heart upon someone who isn’t allowed to love in the first place.

Even Jeno’s touch is faint, making you feel like he’s not there at all. You just barely detect the pads of his fingers smoothing over your cheeks, trying to stop the water spilling from your eyes. He smiles sadly, “Don’t cry for me. I’m not worth the tears.”

“You’re everything to me, Jeno. You’re worth every drop.”

“Remember me like this, okay? By the creek,” he gestures to the turbulent waters a short distance away. Walking slowly, he begins to take steps in its direction, but as he speeds up you’re no longer able to match his pace. “Jeno, turn around...”

Glancing back at you for the final time, he whispers a goodbye that the breeze carries away with it, the sound something only the two of you would hear, one that could never be replicated.

“Goddamnit, Jeno, don’t you dare leave me!” But you know you can’t hold on, you’re not strong enough. A greater force wants you two apart, unable to be overpowered by one human, a relatively insignificant being in the grand scheme of the universe. He vanishes completely.

You fall to your knees, the pain from the pebbles digging into your legs and feet underneath the surface of the creek numbed by your sorrow. The water drenches your clothes, splashing up onto your skin and becoming one with your relentless tears. You’re left all alone, with only the cattails to keep you company. You wish the waves would just swallow you whole so you don’t have to feel this suffocating isolation.

In an unnecessarily harsh trick of the light combined with the dancing shadows generated by the water, you swear that you see Jeno again for a second, sitting on the riverbank like always. You sob louder.

It takes forever for you to find the strength to stand up again, water running over your soaked shoes and threatening to topple you over. You wouldn’t mind if it succeeds.

Inconsolable even to your closest friends and family, you reluctantly return to the village, unwilling to leave behind what you’ve just been through and unable to explain just why you’re crying so hard. Maybe if you stay there forever, spending each day and night waiting among the reeds and the flowers and the grass, he’ll come back someday, but no. He’ll never return, but you simply can’t bring yourself to accept this fact.

You’re never quite the same after that. Part of the curse that haunts you for the rest of your life is this: no matter how hard you try to retain your memories, you’re destined to forget Jeno eventually, leaving vast gaps in your brain when it comes to the years of your youth.

You’re left with only a feeling of inexplicable nostalgia at the sight of the meadow and the creek running through it, the waters still as violent as they were on the day you lost him.

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ktrsss1fics · 4 years

Text

Cake By The Ocean: Eight.

If you were to ask Georgina Ferguson what her last full day in Mykonos would consist of, never in a million years would she say a day at the beach with her boyfriend followed by a night on the town with her closest friends. As the bars began to close, the gang made their way back home. Mags and Jenna held hands and gossiped. Jamie, Keith, and Niall were singing some song from the early 2000s. Georgina trailed behind everyone reminiscing about her time in Greece. She was drunk off sangria and the smell of a certain Irishman’s cologne. This trip was exactly what she needed. Her heart was happy and her love meter was full.

“Ferg, wait until we’re home to undress the poor boy.” Dave said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Heart wants what it wants, David.” Georgina smiled as she took her eyes off her boyfriend.

“He truly thinks the world of you.” Dave said.

“Assss he should.” Brittany slurred as she slipped her hand into Georgina’s.

A moment of silence passed between the trio. It wasn’t very long until the house they were staying in came into view. Georgina gave her best friend’s hand a squeeze as the rest of their friends filed inside.

“You two should come over for dinner when we get home.” Brittany said. “It’ll be like old times.”

“But now we know they’re shaggin’.” Dave teased.

“The kids are in love. Leave ‘em alone.” Britt said.

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s probably sat on his face by now.” Dave said smugly.

“David!” Brittany and Georgina groaned in unison.

The gentle giant placed a quick kiss on the top of Georgina’s head. “Only taking the piss, babes.”

“We’ve talked about this, what she does in the bedroom is-is-is her business.” Brittany said.

“You birds take everything so seriously.” Her boyfriend sighed.

“Oi, what are they on about, Davey?” Niall asked from inside the house.

“Nialler, settle a bet for me—“ Dave started to say before Georgina cut him off.

“We aren’t in neutral territory anymore.” She said stepping inside. “Use your indoor voice.”

Marco, Ashlee, and Mar had declined the invitation to go out with everyone. No one understood why but they were not fond of the Terrible Threesome. Everyone was counting down the days until they said goodbye to them for good.

Dave kissed her head once more before peeling away from her side. “Yes, Mum.”

“I’ll have a talk with him when we are alone.” Brittany said to her best friend as her boyfriend walked away.

“He’s only doin’ it to push me buttons.” Ferg sighed.

“Y’alright baby?” Brittany asked.

“It’s probably because I’m drunk but I really don’t want to go home.” Georgina said. “It’s just going to be work and deadlines and I’m not gonna see everyone as much as I’d like.”

“I don’t know if you agree with me but this — as crazy as it sounds — has been the best trip we’ve been on and like I just don’t want things to change. You know?”

“It definitely has been one for the record books.” Brittany said grabbing onto Georgina’s other hand. “But you know you aren’t in this alone, right?”

“Yeah—“ Georgina said but Brittany shook her head.

Britt looked up at her best friend. “We’ve all decided that we’ve got you. You aren’t in this alone anymore. We all talked and we aren’t letting any outside influences mess this up because—“

“He’s The Baby.” Georgina blushed.

“And you’re you.” Britt smiled.

“Yeah but—“

“Oh fuck off Georgie.” Britt rolled her eyes. “They love you more than they love him most days.”

Georgina could feel her cheeks grow warm. Her friends truly meant the world to her and knowing they were fully supportive of her relationship with Niall meant everything. She truly didn’t know what she would do without them.

“Fergithica and Brittania we need you over here. ASAP!!” Jenna shouted from the living room.

“Where my bitches at?” Mags said through a microphone.

“Oh god.” Britt said with her eyes closed.

“I thought we hid the mic.” Georgina said wide-eyed.

“Who the fuck gave her a mic?” Jamie cackled from the kitchen.

Georgina and Brittany made their way into the living room while the rest of the boys joined them. Standing center stage were the drunkest members of the Hen House.

“We wanna do karaoke!” Jenna said leaning against Margaret.

“You lot can’t sing while sober.” Keith said taking a seat beside Georgina on the couch. “Who says you can in the state you’re in.”

“We have a thing called talent, Miller.” Mags slurred into the mic. “Might wanna look it up babes.”

“Yeah, as much talent as two cats in heat.” Keith mumbled making Georgina laugh.

“Also, stating this now, Niall Horan is not allowed to sing.” Mags said pointing to the brown haired man.

Niall threw his hands up in defense. “Whatever you want, babes.”

“Who wants to be the DJ?” Jenna asked, scanning the crowd that had formed.

“What song you ruinin’ first?” Dave asked as he pulled out his phone.

“Hmm… ‘Chandelier’ by Sia.” Jenna said causing the room to erupt into laughter.

“Oh fuck right off you dicks.” Mags glared.

As David cued up the music on the television, Jamie carefully walked in the room with a tray of drinks.

“We are gonna need these.” Jamie said as his girlfriend got ready to sing her drunken heart out.

The two women cleared their throats. Niall took this as a sign to make his way towards the couch. Not only did he want a front row seat to the show about to be performed but he wanted to be closer to the woman he loved.

The Irishman had tried his best to keep his hands to himself when they were out in public. He didn’t know how comfortable Georgina was with showing any display of affection in front of their friends. He had made her keep their relationship a secret for months. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable by forcing too much affection too soon.

Although he tried to keep his distance, the alcohol in his system and the way Georgina looked had his mind racing. He couldn’t wait until they were alone later. Niall leaned back in his seat before resting a hand on Georgina’s leg. This was exactly how he wanted to end their trip.

“This one is specifically dedicated to Keith Reginald Miller.” Mags said with a wink. “My biggest fan.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You wanker.”

“Woo! That’s my baby.” Jamie cheered as he took a seat on the floor.

The next couple hours were filled with goblets of sangria and very poor renditions of some of the greatest songs ever created. From Robbie Williams to Lionel Richie, Fergie and the gang sang their heart's out in the middle of that Grecian villa.

While Jamie and Davey belted out a Bob Seger banger, Niall decided they needed food to sop up some of the liquor they had consumed. The Irishman made his way into the kitchen to see what he could come up with. Naturally, Georgina followed in suit.

The pair decided on grilled cheese sandwiches. They hoped the bread would bring everyone down a notch. Fortunately, their flights were in the evening so they had time to sleep off the hangover that was sure to take form once everyone headed to bed.

“Britt wants us to come over for dinner when we get back.” Georgina said as she pulled a piece of cheddar cheese away from the paper packaging.

“Just us four?” Niall asked, pressing a spatula into a slice of bread making it sizzle in the pan.

“Just like the good ol’ days.” She said with a nod.

“That’ll be brilliant.” Niall smiled as he looked up at her.

The kitchen grew quiet as the couple worked in peace. Their system had become second nature. Niall was in charge of grilling while Georgina took take care of all the prep work. A pile of sandwiches started to take form on the plate within minutes. It was just further proof that they were in fact a good team.

“Babe, are you sure we---” Niall said, flipping over one last sandwich.

“We’re gonna be good.” Georgina said reassuring him. “I promise.”

“I love you.” He smiled. “Like a lot.”

Georgina leaned against the counter. “I love you too.”

Once the last sandwich was finished, Niall walked over to where his girlfriend was standing. He rested his hands on the counter beside her. He leaned in close.

“Just so we are both aware, I’m fucking you as soon as that door closes tonight.” He said softly.

Georgina’s face lit up at the husky tone of his voice.

“You can’t just look like an absolute goddess and get away with it.” Niall winked.

“Unacceptable, right?” She whispered as he pressed up against her.

“Completely.” He said.

“Am I going to be punished?” She smirked.

“Fuck, Georgina!” He said squeezing his eyes shit. “Please don’t give me a hard on in front of our friends.”

Georgina giggled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Niall rolled his eyes making her laugh more. Without thinking, Georgina grabbed his chin and placed a very deep kiss on his lips. Niall’s heart wanted to explode. All he had wanted to do that night was kiss her. Now that he finally had the opportunity to he wasn’t going to stop. A slow and steamy make out session began.

What the young couple didn’t know was that their every move was being recorded from the doorway of the kitchen by a very despicable human being. Every kiss that was shared in that kitchen was strung together in a short video that could ruin them.

Marlene truly was the worst person on the planet.

With a smug look on her face, the young American stopped the video. She turned slowly but slammed right into the chest of a very angry looking man.

“Delete it.” He said.

“I-I-I- don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stuttered nervously.

“Delete the video.”

“I don’t kn—“ She started to say as she attempted to get away. He wouldn’t let her past.

“Delete the video or I will ruin your life.” He stated.

#one direction fanfiction #niall horan fanfiction #cbto #1dff #fergie and niall

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