#probably the differences in gender expression were way different back then compared to today
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ahopefulbromantic · 3 days ago
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Yeah i get where you're coming from but asexuality is not flowers and unicorns, sadly 😅 For every 'being saved from sin by grace' area there are always other 'having tendencies to sin' areas. And the more blessed by God a person is, the harder the devil will work to tempt them. Not to say asexuals are especially blessed by God, not more than other people, it's just an orientation (or a lack of one depending on how you view it), it's got its advantages and disadvantages. Also there are many types of asexuality and some of them do nothing to keep you from sinning heh. So although it does help in some cases, i don't think it's anything to especially glorify, really
Now excuse me while i get back to training my push-ups, high kicks, and karate chops for the day they invent a time machine-
There were probably some medieval asexuals that were absolutely insufferable on their moral high horse about it. Like "this modesty shit easy - I haven't lusted over any man ever in my life and only fuck my husband out of duty from God and only so that we have children. I am so much better than any of you hoes."
And some other local goodwife would get sick of this and go "well obviously you don't have time for cock, Maergaret, since you're always too fucking busy choking on your own vanity and pride!" and have a smackfight that progresses into a full-on two-woman brawl in the town square. People gather around to watch this until a clergyman shows up to remind everyone that not only is this kind of brawl between good christians definitely a sin, it's also a sin for everyone who's watching to place bets on who's going to win.
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half-dead-writer · 6 months ago
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Shopping List
Reader has to buy the groceries, meets the hottest cashier, panics, goes there again, antics ensue.
⸸ Mello / Mihael Keehl (Death Note) ⸸ ~3,4k words ⸸ gender neutral reader
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planning to make a sequel where they actually do some proper bonding stuff so treat it as a first chapter I guess? mayhaps even an official Mello x Matt x Reader route but as a separate thing since I know not everyone is into that and I want my fics to be enjoyable for everyone :] Inspired by my usual routine of going to the store while the scorching sun consumes my entire being + one time where my edrink hit the ground and I had to shotgun the remains of it (crossposted from AO3)
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Today's weather could only be comparable to Hell. I felt the uncomfortable sweat running through my body. I wanted to get back to my flat as soon as possible and just melt on the couch while being blasted by a fan. But I had to buy a few necessities from the corner store nearby before that. Even though it was a five minute walk from where I lived, I haven't been there before. I heard the store had more expensive items than the one that's further away, but I didn't have enough strength to make that long walk in the sun. My wallet will feel the effects of it in the nearest days, but I'm willing to make the sacrifice this time.
To my relief, I felt the cold air wash over my skin, giving it a bit of pleasant relief. The fridges were just at the entrance, which gave a nice contrast to the killing warmth outside. The layout of the store didn't differ much from the usual stores I've been to, so I didn't have any troubles looking through the aisles for my desired items. I approached the Monster stand and took a few of the energy drinks into my hands. I didn't bother to take my bag this time, it was supposed to be a quick trip. I didn't have much choice, so I grabbed the cheapest thing i could find that my taste buds could tolerate and headed to the cashier. I didn't pay attention to the person standing behind the cash register as I put the groceries on the counter, with my sight focused on the ridiculously priced candy bar that's been placed nearby, enticing the customers to spend even more money on their way out. I considered it, but I don't think my today's budget could take it. The bored cashier told me the estimated price in a dull, clearly done-with-it tone. He was probably just waiting for his shift to be over, can't blame him. I was surprised, though not about the amount I was due to pay for my things, but rather by his appearance.
He had blond hair, the length was touching the tips of his shoulders. It was an unusual sight around here, and if I hadn't heard his voice before looking at him, I would assume he was a girl. But upon closer inspection, the features on his face were surely masculine. The top he wore was short-sleeved, typical store-required uniform, which didn't stick out from the norm. I also noticed a black polish that coated his nails. It looked carefully applied, which made me curious if he painted them himself. I guessed the boy's age to be around mine, which made me become slightly alerted.
My usual formula of interacting with people was saying a polite "hi", thanking for the service and leaving the store, but the lack of age gap made me feel as if, somehow, that wouldn't be appropriate. I silently hoped he didn't notice my lack of movement for a second as I passed him the requested cash. I could only assume his expression during the transaction remained the same, the idea of him perceiving me as a staring weirdo was too overwhelming for me to keep a steady eye-contact. The small lump in my throat prevented me from speaking clearly, but after gathering the groceries into my hands, I managed to squeak out a barely audible "Uh, thanks- goodbye" on my way out. I didn't dare to look back.
The outside was still a cooking oven, but my mind was too occupied by the memory of an encounter that happened a moment ago. It took me a while to register that my legs were dragging me with a faster pace to my home due to the thoughts replaying in a torturous loop. I shouldn't care that much about an awkward encounter with a stranger that I'm unlikely to see often. I felt the warm air wash thru my lungs as I took a deep breath and reminded myself that a silly moment is not a thing to stress over. I bet in his time of working there he saw plenty of worse people than an embarrassing person whom he only seen once. I reached my hand inside the pocket, finding my keys after a brief moment of searching and unlocked the door to my apartment. The familiar smell of the house brought me some comfort as I headed to get some water. My mouth felt incredibly dry, and I could only guess whether it was from the encounter or the weather. Probably both.
I heard the tap water is bad for you, but at that moment the liquid that spilled on my tongue tasted like a gift sent from gods. I sat on the couch after properly hydrating myself and now, with a clear head, I could see that my anxiety definitely flared up much more than usual. At least in comparison to a reaction I'd have with a regular screw up of mine. In hindsight, it was easy to see that I panicked just because I found the person on the other side attractive. That realization made me feel a bit silly. It had been some time since I found someone to pine over, and of course it had to be a random, fruity boy from the store with the most expensive items. Not that my confidence would allow for this thought up relationship in my mind to happen in real life, but I wanted to at least get to know him. He seemed like an interesting person, with all that he had going on, appearance-wise.
Few days have passed until I had to go get my groceries again. I knew buying stuff at the "boujee shop" was a bad idea, but the thought of going there again and making things right by at least saying a proper "hello, thank you, goodbye" was convincing enough for me to give in. My plan wasn't to buy a lot, maybe an energy drink or two, and get the rest by going to a different store. This solution had more extra steps than my usual shopping trip, but I was willing to do it. Nobody besides me knew that it was only because I wanted to see the mysterious boy, so what's the harm?
The sun wasn't as vicious today, which resulted in a pretty pleasant walk. A light breeze going thru my hair was a nice touch to the summery vibe, and it even added a bit of confidence to my stroll. I was going to nail it this time. Properly talking to another human being might not be a great achievement to some, but it mattered to me, and I tried to hype myself up. I mentally prepared for the interaction while I picked the can from the energy drink stand. I had some saved up money, so I was able to pick my desired choice of flavor and brand, not the knock off I had picked on my previous visit here. I smoothly moved to the end of the store, only to find that the boy I was hoping to see was not there. I was slightly disappointed, but at least there was no pressure for me to perform well, which made me calm down almost completely.
The person standing near the cash register was another male. The outfit he wore didn't differ from the one I already seen, but the fluffy, red-colored mess on his head was a far cry from the well-maintained hair of the previous cashier. It took him a minute to notice me approaching, as his sight was focused on reading some pamphlet promoting new brand of e-cigarettes. I wondered whether he read it out of boredom or genuine interest in the product, but my bet would be on the former. He put it down as soon as he noticed me in the corner of his eye, although there was no hurry in his movements. I put the cans on the counter and smoothly hit him with the casual "hi".
"Hey," he responded, his voice warm and friendly. I heard the familiar "beep" of the product being scanned and prepared my wallet. Everything seemed to be going accordingly, until I heard him give me another comment "You know those give you kidney stones, right?" I stopped in my tracks for a second, uncertain what to respond, until I noticed a small smirk forming on his face.
"Kidding. I mean, not that it's not true, but so far I managed to avoid them," he added, seeing my face turn from a deer in the headlights to a look of realization.
"Yeah, uh, me too, thankfully" I replied, trying to reciprocate the playful remark as I felt the corners of my mouth twist in a polite grin. What a way to start the conversation.
"I like this flavor too. But I prefer the less sweet ones," he continued to judge the choice of my item, although not in bad faith. He was chatty, but it was actually quite a nice experience, one which I didn't expect to have today, but I didn't complain. His whole person radiated a calming aura which made me forget of the discomfort of talking to strangers all-together. It was as if I knew this man my whole life, even if all I did was exchange a few words with him. I will never understand how people possess such power, but I'm forever grateful it exists.
"Yeah, that's fair. It's hard to even enjoy the taste in some of them, as if someone just poured up a whole bag of sugar," I may have over exaggerated a bit, but I assumed he knew that. I got a chuckle and an understanding "yeah" in response.
With how much I enjoyed the conversation, I completely forget I was in the process of taking out the money of my wallet, just holding it in my hands this whole time. Guess I can't escape even a tiny bit of cringe for today. I quickly pulled out the cash. "Hey, no rush," he said, "there's no other clients in the store, you can take your time". I still felt silly, but with his chill demeanor the repercussions of my actions didn't sting as much.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my well-deserved smoke break," he got out from behind the counter and passed me by, taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket on his way. I smiled to myself and grabbed my item, ready to head out as well.
While I was going through the aisles I entertained the thought that today could be different, but it turned out really well. I didn't have a panic attack from a simple interaction, I did what I planned to do, and I wasn't even that awkward. My mind was completely clear as I left the store, correctly assuming to see the red-haired cashier smoking nearby. I felt my stomach drop as I noticed someone else standing beside him. It was the blond boy. His casual ("casual" would be an understatement), off-work clothes were a drastic change from the outfit that his, what I assumed, friend wore. He now sported a leather vest that uncovered a bit of his stomach, black leather pants and a fancy rosary that adorned his neck. Wow. This boy has some guts to not be afraid strutting around in such. Which was in no way a bad thing, but it surely made keeping my composure a bit harder. Seeing that they were occupied by each other, I was seconds from quietly making my leave with the tail tucked between my legs, not prepared at all for this sight, until I heard a loud bang on the ground, followed by a faint "fisss". It took me a second to process what happened. My can. My energy drink slipped out of my sweaty palm and hit a tiny, pointy rock on the pavement, inevitably leaving a small hole from which the sweet juice began quickly pouring out.
"Fuck!"
My yelling surely got their attention now. Even though my mind was occupied with being upset, I managed to catch a glimpse of their reactions. The red haired boy winced at the sound, while the blonde exhaled thru his nose with either disappointment or amusement. I couldn't tell due to the fizzling sound of the raging can which was slowly beginning to calm down. Even though the sticky liquid on my hand made me feel gross, I picked it up. Thankfully the hole was near the top of the can so I saved most of the drink left. I hated the sudden spotlight, but by some miracle I managed to not completely freak out. I think I completely zoned out due to the intensity of the emotions. I was not about to cry, I was not about to scream (again). Not in public. Peace. Think about the consequences of your actions. I took a deep breath, ignoring both of the boys' stare for my own sanity. A minute has surely passed until I managed to show any sign of life. I don't usually smoke, but at that time I felt like I really needed one. My eyes fixated on the cigarette the nice cashier held in his mouth. Curiosity flashed in their eyes as I approached them. I cleared my throat.
"...Could I borrow a cigarette?" I asked, avoiding the eyes of the blonde. He was mostly staring at my hand which holding the nefarious drink. I decided to ignore him, I couldn't handle more stress right now.
"Yeah, sure," he reached for the pack, opening it in a way so that one of them was poking out. I took it.
"Uh, lighter?"
I lit up the cigarette with one hand after he passed me his zippo lighter. The somewhat familiar smoke buried deep in my lungs, making me cough a little. I didn't care, although my sight was proactively focused on the ground to avoid their eyes. I didn't know whether to stay with them until I finished the cigarette or smoke it on my way back, but the red-haired boy spoke again,
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Y/N," I said.
"I could smuggle you another can from the shop if you want," his eyes looked at my drink, I was positively surprised at his kind offer, but I felt like I overused his hospitality enough while asking for the cigarette.
"Oh, thank you, but I don't think that'll be necessary-" I offered him a genuine smile, "there's still a lot left, so I think I'll manage."
The boy nodded briefly after looking at the can, "I'm Mail by the way," the smoke found a way out of his lips after he took a long drag. "But Matt is fine as well," he added.
I reciprocated the nod and finally decided to take a brief glance at the boy standing near him. Instead of smoking, his resting bitch face was munching on the overpriced chocolate from the store, I now noticed.
"And that's Mihael. Mello. Mels," I assumed he said the last part in a playful tone, shooting a teasing smile his way.
I cleared my throat from the smallest remains of my anxiety towards him, "Uh, hi."
"Hey," he responded mildly, in-between of biting a part out of the chocolate. I don't think I ever seen anyone else eat chocolate that way.
"I like your clothes," I fixed my eyes on his outfit, I hoped to score some points with him, but also to properly express my honest opinion.
His eyes showed uncertainty for a moment, probably unsure if I was being genuine with my compliment, but he decided to nod and quietly hum in response. His expression didn't change. I didn't overthink it for my sake, hopefully he's like that with everyone.
"Really? He looks like a leather couch" Matt added, being met with Mello's eyes staring daggers at him, but I sensed it wasn't serious.
"Says a dude who wears goggles inside and outside," Mello barked back in retaliation.
"Not right now, I don't," Matt stuck out his tongue and Mello's expression finally showed a hint of amusement while his eyes rolled.
"Besides, I actually wear them for a reason," Matt explained, or rather bit back at Mello again, "unlike you, show-dog."
"My reason is that I look presentable," he flaunted with exaggeration, swinging the chocolate in his grip slightly, "unlike your week-old, sweaty, striped sweater."
"Last time I checked, people wearing leather sweat too," another jab from Matt, "and again, do you see me wearing my sweater right now?"
Mello just sighed in response, probably tired of this silly conversation at this point. It was amusing to hear them bicker, even if I felt a bit like a third-wheel. My cigarette shortened significantly, I already smoked the bigger half of it. Even though this interaction brought me lots of stress initially, I was actually glad I ended up being included in their conversation, even as a listener. My plan was to get to know Mihael anyway, and I succeeded in at least exchanging a few words with him. Matt stepped on the butt of his cigarette after it fell on the ground when he was done with it. I promptly did the same.
"Only one more hour of my shift left," Matt sighed, unhappy about being forced back behind the cash register again, "at least the day ain't as busy today."
"Sorry for, uh, making your life worse, I suppose?" you joked, which made him chuckle.
"Nah, you didn't. You dropping your drink and yelling fuck!" he mocked your voice, "was probably the most interesting thing that happened this work-day."
I grinned bashfully at his remark but accepted the compliment. I heard the crinkling of the wrapper as Mello finished his snack and threw it in the nearby trash. Except he didn't, as it hit the corner of the open trash can and swiftly fell on the ground. He grunted with annoyance and just looked at it, not bothering to get it again.
"It's not nice to litter in front of the store worker, Mello" Matt chimed in, obviously provoking a reaction from the other boy.
"I work here too, idiot," he bent to pick it up, "next time I'll throw it at you."
"Sure you will," Matt said with confidence, looking at the wrapper being properly disposed of now.
"Or, let me reiterate, I'll throw you out. Of the house." Mello threatened.
"Don't forget to leave me a pillow to sleep on while I'll be camping by the doors," Matt said while turning to head back to the store, loud enough for the both of us to hear.
I looked at Mello with a trace of smile on my face as Matt disappeared behind the store's doors, hopefully it made me seem friendlier than usual. "I'll be going too- I can't wait to finally wash my hand," I looked at the can in my grip, I did a good job of ignoring it the entirety of the conversation, but now that it was over, it seriously bugged me.
"Uhuh," he raised his brow slightly, almost as if I held toxic waste in my hand.
"So, um, bye," I said clearly, offering a polite smile. He finally showed me an ounce of expression on his face, his lips contorting into an amused smirk, which dumbfounded me. I tested my luck by asking, "what's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing," he relaxed, but I noticed a glint in his eye as he spoke, "just thought you weren't able to say goodbye properly, judging by the last time you tried."
I didn't know how to react, so I just chuckled like a moron, "I- I'll make sure to do that next time." I felt like a dog who was caught trying to steal food from its owner. He did notice my weird behavior back then.
"I'd say making sure to bring a bag next time you go shopping would benefit you more," he continued to torture me with his remarks.
"Yes, alright, I get it," I defended myself, although it wasn't out of malice, rather trying to keep the mood playful and hopefully less embarrassing for me, "I'll take my leave now."
He raised his head slightly as a goodbye gesture and turned in the opposite direction, I assume heading back to his home as well.
Now I must do my shopping here again, once I save enough money to do so.
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agere-fandom-time · 4 years ago
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Hi hi!! Can I gets a fic with toddler regressor! Midoriya izuku going nonverbal during an outing and lowkey regressing but he doesnt know what's happening and he just kind of rolls with it and the rest of 1-A's just like "whelp, looks like we've got a toddler on our hands??" Idk idk but yeah. Please n thankies
I loved this idea so much. Here is your fanfiction!! Mainly featuring Todoroki, Tokoyami, and Asui as the caregivers, with brief appearances from most of Class 1-A but I couldn’t fit everyone in. Also some Dadzawa, of course. 
Can be read below the 'read more’ or here on AO3.
Content Warnings: Sensory overload, non-verbal regression, briefly mentioned fear of Bakugou, involuntary regression in public. 
-Mod Stella
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Izuku had always enjoyed shopping with his class.
Of course, now that they had moved into the dorms, there were new rules. A teacher had to come with them, and the students were required to stay in groups of three at all times. They had gone shopping in chaotic groups in their first year, but now leaving campus was an entire event, filled with paperwork and anticipation.
Today, Izuku sat in the middle of the bus between Ochako and Shouto, discussing their math homework. Around them, the rest of 1-A was humming with gossip and excitement as the city sped by outside the bus. Eventually, the conversation turned to specific questions, and all three pulled out their notebooks to compare their answers.
Kaminari wandered over to check on Ochako’s answers, earing him a smack on the head from Kirishima.
“Dude, come one, cheating is totally uncool!”
“I was just checking my answer,” Kaminari pouted, rubbing his head. “I wanted to know if I got question three right!”
“Bring your notebook over,” said Izuku. “The more the merrier!”
By the time they reached the mall, half of the class had their notebooks out and were arguing about the bonus question.
“Not to discourage you from schoolwork, but we could have stayed on campus if you wanted a study session,” Aizawa called from the front of the bus as the doors opened.
“We’re here!” Mina cried, shoving her notebook into her backpack and bolting for the door without zipping up her bag. Izuku could see her through the bus windows as the rest of the class followed her, bouncing impatiently in place as she waited for them. Izuku joined the line outside the bus, waiting for Aizawa to check the class numbers and announce the groups for today.
“Alright, pick your own trios today. Feel free to travel in groups of six, but don’t be a pain for the other people at the mall. Behave while you’re here.” Aizawa’s glare travelled across the class, and Izuku nodded furiously. He wasn’t going to cause any trouble this time!
Izuku was so busy nodding that he almost missed when people started mingling to form trios. He quickly located his nearest friend, which was Shouto, and walked towards him. It looked like he had already paired up with Tokoyami and they were just waiting for a third.
“Mind if I join you guys?” Izuku asked, hooking his thumbs into the straps of his backpack as he got closer.
“You are welcome,” Tokoyami said. Shouto simply nodded and shifted his body to include Izuku in their little circle.
“Cool, thanks!” Izuku took his place with them, watching the rest of the class divide themselves. Most of them were split by gender, having discovered that the boys and girls tended to shop in different places. Aoyama and Mina were the exception to the rule, an inseparable shopping duo. Hagakure had joined them today, and the three were already planning their route through the mall with loud enthusiasm.
“Do you guys need to visit any clothes stores? I’ve gone through, like, ten pairs of socks since our last trip, but I’m okay aside from that,” Izuku admitted. “I’d love to check out the new All Might figurines, I think the games store carries them here…” His trio started to plan their trip with far less fanfare than Aoyama’s.
“You have until five,” Aizawa called into the noise of the class. “Text me if there’s trouble, I’ll be in the food court keeping an eye out.”
“Yes sensei,” the class chorused. Finally free, they filed into the mall in an exuberant crowd.
Izuku, Shouto, and Tokoyami ended up in the bookstore first, trailing each other to their preferred sections (Izuku the manga, Shouto the poetry, and Tokoyami the historical fiction, which Izuku wouldn’t have guessed). All three of them found something to take home and they re-entered the main hallway of the mall with new bags hanging on their arms.
Excited as Izuku was to read his new magazine, the sound of the mall was starting to grate on him. The lights were slightly too bright, and the rustle of plastic bags clashed with the incessant noise of the crowd. People rushed past each other, occasionally brushing against Izuku, and he had to control his instinct to flinch whenever someone stepped on his foot or bumped into his shoulder.
Izuku trailed behind the others, focusing on Tokoyami’s sneakers so that he wouldn’t lose them. He tried to shut out the sounds of the mall, with limited success. There was just too much.
“Are you alright?”
Izuku was surprised to hear Shouto’s quiet voice from his left, and glanced up to see the other boy walking beside him, forehead creased with concern. Izuku smiled and went to say… something. But he couldn’t quite figure out what to say, or how to say it, so he settled for giving Shouto a thumbs-up. Shouto’s expression did something too complicated for Izuku to follow, and then he offered a subtle smile and an outstretched hand.
Izuku didn’t think twice before sliding his hand into Shouto’s, and everything was immediately better. Had the mall been too bright? It was very nice, almost sunny. It was still a little too loud, but he didn’t have to worry about that. He just had to follow Shouto wherever he went, hand-in-hand.
Knowing he wouldn’t lose his friends, Izuku was free to look around. And there was a lot to look at. Lots of strangers, and bright coloured clothing in the shop windows, and… ah!! All Might figurines!
Izuku dug his heels in, pulling Shouto to a stop. Shouto looked back with concern on his face, but Izuku smiled and pointed towards the shop with figurines in the window, and Shouto’s expression cleared.
“Tokoyami!” Shouto called into the crowd ahead of them. “Izuku wants to stop.”
It only took a moment for Tokoyami to join them, glancing briefly down at their joined hands. “I’m with you,” he nodded. “I will follow.”
Izuku tugged Shouto towards the games and collectibles store. There were so many things in here that Izuku loved! So many heroes and cool clothing and wow! Izuku bounced on his heels a little as he pulled Shouto into the store.
Once they were inside, Izuku let go of Shouto’s hand and dove in. There were plushies to feel, and figurines to inspect, and lots of games to check out! Distantly, he was aware of the others following close behind, murmuring to each other. But the merch was so much more important. Lots of All Might, of course, but there was a plushie of Thirteen that Izuku had to take a minute to cuddle. Ochako would probably like that: she was a big Thirteen fan, and had a fair number of plushies. And there was a Crimson Riot figurine that made Izuku think of Kaminari. He gave it a pat on the spiky head. Izuku didn’t hug Kaminari enough. He gave good hugs.
Finished with his inspection, Izuku turned back to his friends and reclaimed Shouto’s hand, leaning contentedly against his side. It made him happy just to be here, surrounded by all these things he could buy, and his friends as well. Tokoyami was on Izuku’s other side, and he bumped his beak lightly against Izuku’s head when Izuku came to join them. Izuku blinked at him. Was that how birds said hello?
Izuku tried to return the gesture, but he didn’t have a beak, so he just poked his nose into Tokoyami’s jawline. He heard Shouto stifle a laugh behind him, and he was pulled back to Shouto’s side.
“Be nice to Tokoyami,” Shouto said. Izuku tilted his head, confused. He was being nice! He was saying hello.
“Should we find another group?” Tokoyami suggested quietly. “Would you like to see Uraraka?” he asked Izuku.
Izuku nodded. Why wouldn’t he want to see Ochako? She was one of his best friends!
“Sounds good.” Shouto’s fingers wrapped a little more firmly around Izuku’s as they started to walk again. Izuku continued to stare around the mall. Everything seemed so fast and loud and big. Was this how the world always was? Something felt off, but Izuku couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Suddenly, there was movement through the crowd: Kacchan shoving his way through a group of preteen girls with his usual murderous expression, Kaminari and Kirishima loudly apologizing as they followed in his wake.
Izuku did his best to hide behind Tokoyami and Shouto, pressing closer to Tokoyami in the process. A face emerged from Tokoyami’s shoulder, making Izuku jump, but it was just a small part of Dark Shadow stretching lazily from Tokoyami’s shirt, glancing at Izuku and then back towards Kacchan’s trio.
“Don’t worry, kid, we’ve got your back,” Dark Shadow muttered, and did the same beak thing that Tokoyami had done, pressing gently against Izuku’s forehead and then retreating back into Tokoyami’s shoulder.
Izuku stared at the place where the shadow had been, mouth slightly open.
“Still alright?” Shouto asked, pressing Izuku’s hand lightly. “Do you want to get some headphones from Aizawa or Iida?”
Izuku shook his head. Less sound was nice, but he liked being able to hear his friends’ voices. Shouto gave him a thumbs-up, and Izuku mirrored the gesture with a grin.
“There they are,” Izuku heard Tokoyami announce. “Dark Shadow, get their attention.”
“Alright, alright, jeez.” Dark Shadow jumped from Tokoyami’s back and stretched above the crowd, waving a clawed hand. That got a lot of the crowd’s attention, but soon Izuku could see who he’d been gesturing at: a group of four girls, Ochako at their head, was coming over towards them.
“Hey Tokoyami, hey Dark Shadow! What’s up?” Ochako asked.
“I believe we have completed our expedition. We wanted to check with other members of our class,” Tokoyami said. Izuku frowned. Were they really done? But he needed… socks? Or maybe food? He was supposed to buy something.
“Hey, Izuku,” Tsu said, coming to join them. “How’s the trip?”
Izuku was slowly getting used to the weird twisting sensation that kept happening when he tried to talk. He gave Tsu another smile and thumbs-up. She nodded, her tongue poking out from her mouth.
“Don’t feel like talking? I get that. Ribbit. Do you want to go back to the bus?”
Izuku was conflicted. It would be quieter on the bus, and maybe he could even lie down, but all his friends were here! He didn’t want to be alone.
Not knowing how to express the feeling, Izuku reached his free hand towards Tsu and wiggled his fingers. Seeming to understand, Tsu moved forwards and curled her hand in his, and Izuku squeezed both her and Shouto’s hands.
“We’d come with you, if you wanted,” Tsu said. “I’m pretty much finished, and the others will still be a group if we head out. We’d have to check in with Aizawa-sensei, ribbit, but he won’t mind.” Izuku liked the idea of talking to Aizawa. He took care of the class. Izuku felt safer with Aizawa, and when his friends were with Aizawa.
Izuku reluctantly nodded. There was more to see at the mall, and he was sad to miss it, but the idea of curling up on the bus and relaxing with his friends sounded a lot better.
“Well, let’s go then!” Tsu said, pointing towards the food court.
“Wait, wait, I want to give Izuku a hug!” Ochako yelled, and then there were arms wrapping around Izuku from behind, pulling him back into Ochako’s familiar embrace.
Izuku melted, arms dropping to his sides and his weight leaning back into Ochako. She made a surprised noise, tilting back under the pressure, and then Izuku was weightless and Ochako pulled him properly into her arms.
“Hey, Izuku,” she murmured. “I’m sorry you’re going, but I hope you have a good time with Tsu and Todoroki.”
“Mmm!” Izuku said, hoping that Ochako would understand that he meant that he would definitely have a good time, and it was a very nice hug, and thank you very much.
“Okay, I’ll let you go,” Ochako sighed, and pressed a kiss to the top of Izuku’s head, right on his hair. He squeaked and felt his cheeks flush from the unexpected affection. It had felt… a lot like Tokoyami’s beak, actually. But kind of softer. “Take care of him, you two!”
“You know we will, ribbit.”
His weight restored and his hands taken again by his friends, Izuku turned to smile over his shoulder at Ochako as he was led away, his face still warm from the kiss. She smiled and waved, before turning back to Jiro, Momo, and Tokoyami. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Ochako’s voice was high-pitched and excited as she joined the conversation. Hopefully they were having fun.
“Careful, Izuku,” Shouto said, tugging at his hand. “Watch where you’re going.”
Izuku turned his eyes back to the front just in time to let Tsu and Shoto navigate him around a support beam that had been coming a little too close for comfort. Then they were in the food court, the crowd less chaotic here but the conversations louder.
Aizawa was sitting alone, dressed in passably civilian clothes with his capture weapon draped around his neck, phone in one hand. He lifted his chin as soon as Izuku and his friends stepped into view, acknowledging them as they headed towards him.
“Hey sensei,” Tsu said, when they got close enough. “Izuku’s a little overwhelmed and we were thinking about heading back to the bus for a while.”
“Did something happen?” Aizawa asked, directing the question towards both Izuku and Tsu as his eyes flickered between the three of them.
“Not as far as I know,” Shouto answered. “I think it was just the mall.” His thumb swiped across the back of Izuku’s hand. “Do you know?”
Izuku shook his head, then gently pulled his hands free.
Loud, he signed to Aizawa, whose eyes followed the gesture. Bright. Tired.
“Do you want a set of headphones?” Aizawa offered, making a shift towards the bag he’d brought along.
Izuku shook his head. Friends, he signed. Thank you.
“Suit yourself. How about a fidget toy?”
That sounded tempting, and Izuku’s face must have shown it, because Aizawa was rummaging in his bag and tossing things onto the table shortly thereafter. A Rubix cube, a length of string for cat’s cradle, squares of paper for folding, and a miscellany of little fidget gadgets. Izuku chose a set of interlocking rings that made a nice sound when he rattled them, and were fun to twist around each other. He gave Aizawa a smile and a bow, and then put the rings in his mouth. They were cool and metallic, and interesting to bite, but not very nice on Izuku’s teeth.
“Hmm.” Aizawa said, looking unimpressed. “I’ll have to clean those. And get you a proper chew if you’re going to be putting things in your mouth. Maybe a necklace so you can keep track of it.” He packed the rest of the fidget toys away, but not before tossing Tsu her favourite fidget cube and a set of keys. “Lock the bus doors behind you. If those keys go anywhere near the ignition, you’ll be expelled.”
“Yes, sensei,” Tsu agreed, tucking the cube and the keys into her pocket. “We’ll be careful.”
“You’d better be,” Aizawa said. “And take care of Problem Child.” Izuku perked up at the nickname. That was him! Aizawa was talking about him!
“Why is everyone saying that today?” Shouto said. “Of course we will.” He rested a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, which was almost as nice as holding his hand. Izuku leaned into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. He felt very tired all of a sudden.
“Come on, Izuku,” Tsu said, and then his hands were taken again and he was led away, out of the mall. Izuku’s eyes were more closed than open now, and the mall passed in brief flashes of colour and crowd. With a friend on each side, deflecting the traffic, no one bumped into him. Soon enough, they were in the fresh spring air, and Izuku blinked his eyes open to stare up at the clear blue sky, breathing in the taste of petals and dirt.
His friends were by his side, the smell of spring was in the air, and Izuku felt better than ever. The world was very big, but it didn’t matter because his friends were there. They would take care of him. He was safe.
185 notes · View notes
renjuseyo · 4 years ago
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pinwheel (2) ; woozi
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group: seventeen
pairing: lee jihoon / reader (gender-neutral)
synopsis: even if you get lost and it takes you a while, come round and round back to me.
genre: angst with a happy ending
warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol
part one got good feedback so here’s part two written in jihoon’s pov :) it’s almost one am where i am so this hasn’t been proof read quite yet! but as always, feedback would be greatly appreciated! <3 you can find part one here
title inspiration: pinwheel by seventeen other songs: i wish by seventeen
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there is a time, always, when jihoon closes his eyes and sees you in the center of his world.
when you two were in a relationship, thinking about each other was a given. wondering if the other had eaten yet or what they were up to was practically second nature, though in jihoon’s case, these thoughts were accompanied by his adoration for you. sometimes he’ll catch himself picturing you beside him, laughing so loudly that you’re snorting. it isn’t anything romantic; if he’s being honest, you have one of the weirdest laughs he’s ever heard. but as weird as it is, it’s both endearing and contagious, because it never fails to brighten his day a little more.
or he’ll picture you nagging at him, probably because he’s failed to take care of himself once again, whether it be because he accidentally skipped a meal or spent more time working on a project instead of sleeping. even if you may act like a parent more than a lover sometimes, you’re really taking care of jihoon, and in some ways, you’re the best one to do it. it brings him a sense of comfort, being able to shut his eyes and make you out so vividly in his head.
now, every time he thinks of you, pictures your boisterous laugh or your nagging lectures, all he can feel is hurt. he can’t hear your laugh without hearing your cries, nor can he see you nagging without picturing your painstaking silence. he knows it’s not right, not after he left you crying in your apartment, not even sparing a glance back. he doesn’t deserve to, anyways.
not many things can change all at once, he realizes, even if it’s already been two years. he still wonders how you are doing, sometimes if you’ve moved on, even. today is one of those days, it seems, because he’s supposed to be composing a piece for a project due a week from now. but instead of pumping out poetic verse after verse like the machine he is, he’s laying in bed, staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars sprinkled against the ceiling as he goes down the inevitable spiral thoughts of you bring along. he isn’t quite sure why he hasn’t taken them down, considering how memories are drenched up just by staring at them for too long. even if they provide a dim glow amidst the pitch darkness, it doesn’t make things less lonely.
when he was dating you, he was an absolute workaholic, constantly pouring his all into his projects. ironically enough, now that you’re gone, he spends his days doing nothing instead of working to distract himself. he still goes about his day as usual, but he doesn’t put work above himself anymore.
he sighs, rolling to his side. time helps some and hurts others, but he finds himself somewhere in between in a grey area. he hasn’t quite moved on from the events yet, but the bitterness he felt is replaced with a subtle dullness in his head. it’s a blank feeling, almost as if it isn’t there.
but it is, to his dismay, and he’s reminded of it every time he stares at a blank space for a little too long. jihoon isn’t one to ponder on falling outs for a long time - “everything happens for a reason,” he always says. yet here he is, in the dullest area he’s ever known, being the most unproductive he’s ever been. his friends had long given up on him; even his friend jeonghan, who might be the stubbornest person he’s ever met, has stopped pushing him to hang out with their friends now. wonwoo still tries every now and then, but that’s because he feels a sense of duty as his best friend. besides, he probably has made more progress with you than him, if seeing him drop off coffee at your place each time is anything to go by.
the thought of you and wonwoo together creeps into his mind before he can do anything about it. he doesn’t have the right to feel jealous or uncomfortable - if anything, he’s a much better fit for you than he will ever be, even if it hurts to admit. wonwoo won’t break your heart like he did, and he’s thoughtful and observant, so you won’t have to worry about expressing your thoughts. jihoon knows you could care less about physical appearance, but wonwoo is undoubtedly one of the most attractive people he’s ever met, so that’s a bonus, too. you deserve someone that brilliantly shines like the sun, like wonwoo. not someone who cowers in the darkness like the moon, like him.
but even if wonwoo isn’t the perfect match for you, he knows you’ll eventually find someone who does, because you’re just magnetic like that.
(he isn’t quite sure how long he’s spent wallowing his insecurities. but by the time he comes out of his head, he seats himself at his desk with newfound inspiration, writing i wish at the top of a new page.)
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the four years jihoon spent dating you, and the several he spent as your best friend, has undoubtedly been the best years he’s spent. it isn’t like there’s a new adventure every day, because truthfully, you two spend more time being couch potatoes together than going out and exploring the world. but the sense of comfort and security he feels with you, the one that reminds him so dearly of home, is reason enough for him to spend each day contently.
if someone asked you how your relationship worked out as well as it did, he would say it’s because of your mutual respect for each other, and the confidence you had in your love for each other. your respect probably stems from your differences; if you’re loud and energetic, jihoon is quiet and reserved. when you relish in physical touch, jihoon resorts to subtle actions. some may even say you two are complete opposites, baffled at your compatibility, though others might argue that it’s these traits that made things just... work. truthfully, jihoon would argue that there couldn’t possibly be a more compatible pair that just got each other.
with such a perfect fit, how could you two have possibly fallen apart, some might wonder? he wonders this every now and then, too, though the answer to him is clear as day. and who else is there to blame except for himself?
having faith in each others’ love is the pillar to every relationship, and by doubting his, jihoon inevitably slipped down a rabbit hole of insecurities and what-ifs. and with these came the thought of you deserving much better than what he can offer, which eventually led to the mess that was two years ago.
now, if someone asked jihoon if he loves you, he would answer yes, in a heartbeat. but if someone also asked if he had any regrets, he would answer no, in the exact same time span. you deserve someone who won’t fall down said rabbit hole, even if it hurts him to think of you with someone new. love is a powerful motivator, anyways.
(jihoon’s perched on a stool by the bar, a glass of beer in his hand. moments later, wonwoo slides himself beside him, holding a new bottle. he raises an eyebrow in questioning. “bartender said it’s for you, from the girl in the blue dress.”
he scans the crowd until his eyes drift onto someone matching that description. she holds up her own glass in acknowledgement, sending him a flirty smile. he’s a little surprised considering how he rarely stands out like this. unsure of what to do, he sends her a polite smile before looking back at wonwoo. “no thanks.”
wonwoo shrugs, taking a swig of his own bottle. “suit yourself.” the bar is densely packed with people among their own cliques, eagerly engaged in conversation. it’s loud and reeks of alcohol, but jihoon feels like he’s in his own little bubble, save for wonwoo by his side. they both silently drink their respective beverages, taking in the crowd behind them, until wonwoo turns to face him. “care to tell me why you’re here, drinking your sorrows away?”
he rolls his eyes. “i’m not depressed, if that’s what you’re asking.”
he shrugs, holding up his hands defensively. “sorry. forgot you’re all sunshine and rainbows.” there’s a quick pause, and jihoon can tell he has something to say. “you know,” he begins, swirling his drink around, “(name) asked me how you’ve been.”
jihoon can feels his lungs contracting together, but he ignores the feeling, instead intensely staring at his drink. wonwoo continues, “i said you were doing okay.” he turns his head to give him a look of confusion, since wonwoo has experienced firsthand just how “okay” he’s really been. “well, you’re doing better than (name) is,” he explains. “i just thought you might want to know.”
he looks back at his drink, biting his lip. he supposes wonwoo does have a point, because he hasn’t turned into a sobbing mess like people had thought he would be. but then again, jihoon seldom cries, and he isn’t the most expressive, so no one is really surprised. he chooses to think of you instead. did you ask to see if he was still affected? did you ask to see if he was doing better?
his thoughts are running several miles per hour, but thankfully, wonwoo has known him long enough to read his thoughts, and he almost always gets them right. “(name)’s doing better compared to a year ago, but not much has changed.” he pauses to gauge jihoon’s reaction. “you know, i don’t understand why you don’t go back. you still love (name)-”
“no.”
it’s a simple response, really, but from the sudden edge in his voice wonwoo knows better than to pry. he knows it’s because of jihoon’s insecurities and because it would be a complete dick move to ask for your forgiveness two years later. not after he recklessly split your heart in two. you deserve better than a jerk like him, anyways.
jihoon knows this, and he knows wonwoo is only asking because he’s your friend as much as he’s his. he never gets less defensive, though.)
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for someone who claims to be laid back, wonwoo sure is stubborn.
jihoon knows this, having known him since high school, yet the observation dawns to him every now and then. now is one of those moments, he notes, having been dragged out of their dorms to the supermarket. he knows fully well that wonwoo is very capable of bringing those groceries in by himself; he’s personally seen him carry two bags loaded with groceries inside without even breaking a sweat. but suddenly wonwoo, who enjoys being by himself more than normal, suddenly craves company from the very person who’s tried to stay indoors more.
“stop frowning, jihoon. you’ll get wrinkles that way,” wonwoo tells him, browsing through the shelves of cereal. “have you seen the honey bunches of oats, by the way? the almond ones.”
jihoon’s still brooding, arms tightly folded across his chest. “you wouldn’t even have to look at my face if i could’ve just stayed home,” he snaps. “and they’re to the right. you missed them a while ago.
he heads to the right as told and makes a noise of satisfaction upon finding what he needed. “come on, jihoon, you need to get some vitamin d in you. staying inside all of the time is bad for you.” wonwoo holds up a box of cereal, grinning. “see? if you weren’t here, i wouldn’t have even found it.”
"it’s night time, and your eyes can’t be that bad,” jihoon snorts, shuffling towards him. he unfolds his arms and shoves them in his pockets instead.
wonwoo rolls his eyes. “you’ve seen me run into a wall because i didn’t have my glasses. i think that itself proves a point.” touche. “anyways, i think we’ve gotten just about everything. is there anything you need?” he asks.
jihoon pauses to think of things they need. “we’re out of ramen,” he answers.
and with that, the two start pushing their cart towards the aisle of asian foods. it’s not surprising to see the shelves of ramen covered by people their age - after all, ramen is practically a necessity for college students. they make their way through the throngs of people when suddenly, one person’s cart abruptly runs into a shelf. packs of ramen fall from the shelves, and they can see someone who seems very embarrassed, bending down to pick up the fallen items as fast as possible. there are people looking at the scene, though apparently none are helpful enough to help.
jihoon makes his way towards the person, helping scoop up the variety of ramen. his eye catches sight of a six-pack of samyang ramen, and he can’t help the bittersweet smile that rests on his lips. you used to compare him to the chicken, and it was funny at the time. now it just reminds him of memories he doesn’t want to recall.
“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” he hears someone mumble beside him.
he scoops an armful of ramen from the floor and sends you a reassuring smile. “don’t apologize, you’re all right.”
the stranger turns their head so fast that it startles him, when he looks up, he decides there and then the universe really might be out to get him. like some romantic drama, his eyes connect with your wide ones, and your initial nerves seems to intensify more. his smile falls, and he’s staring at you, trying his hardest to remove any signs of emotions on his face. it seems it’s working, because he sees you look away at an impossible speed.
(he hopes you didn’t stare long enough to notice the bags under his eyes, the number of sleepless nights he’s had because of you.)
before he can say anything, you hastily throw the fallen items onto the shelf, even throwing some into your cart. you throw out a quick thank-you before grabbing your cart and zooming down the aisle at an inhumane speed. he’s left alone, crouched on the floor of the ramen aisle, probably looking like a fool with his arms full of ramen staring at an empty space with wide eyes.
as soon as the pile on the floor has been cleared, wonwoo slowly rolls his cart towards jihoon. “was that...” he glances at him to see his reaction. jihoon must have some grief stricken look on his face, because for all of his stubbornness, wonwoo drops the question like hot iron.
they roll their cart towards the cash register, silence lingering in the air. thankfully, wonwoo doesn’t question it, only asking if he’s gotten everything he needed.
he also doesn’t question the six-pack of samyang ramen that had miraculously matieralized in the cart, inserting his card into the card reader. and for all of his frugality, wonwoo doesn’t tell jihoon to pay him back, either.
when they slide into wonwoo’s car after throwing their groceries into the trunk, jihoon turns to glance at him, who’s connecting his phone to the car. “hey, wonwoo?”
he turns to face him, raising an eyebrow in acknowledgement. “yes?”
inhale on five... exhale on ten... and repeat. now that’s not something he’s had to do in a while. he isn’t sure why he feels so nervous - it’s wonwoo of all people. he’s seen jihoon through his worst moments and even lives to tell the tale about it. shutting his eyes, he sighs. “thanks.” he awkwardly rubs his thighs, eyes trained everywhere but at him. now that he thinks about it, he has a lot to thank wonwoo for. for the times he helped him get through his breakup, for the times he’s checked up on you, for the times he forced him out of their apartment, for the times he bought food and groceries for jihoon even though he didn’t need to, for the times he brought coffee to your apartment. for not giving up on him.
wonwoo shrugs, turning the keys in the ignition. “i’d rather not deal with a zombie in my apartment. you still need to pay rent, anyways.”
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jihoon’s evening is supposed to look like this: buy groceries for wonwoo and two large bottles of coke-cola for himself, order pizza for the two of them, and spend at least an hour working on his latest project. he’s gotten one of the three parts down, having just come home from the supermarket.
he has two large bottles of coke-cola on the dining table, and if he’s being honest, they’re the only things he’s looking forward to tonight. he’s in the middle of putting carton of milk and fruits in their refrigerator when he hears soft knocks on his door. huh, weird. he sure wasn’t expecting anyone, and wonwoo has keys to their apartment.
he shuts the fridge and starts walking towards their entryway until the soft knocks are suddenly replaced with urgent rapping. he jumps and pauses in stunned silence, before quickening his pace towards the door. when he peeks through the peephole, he’s relieved to see it’s only his neighbor, lee dokyeom, and not a serial killer. he’s in the year below him and is a nice underclassman - nicer than the ones he knows, anyways. sweet, patient guy. definitely not the type to knock on doors so urgently.
jihoon cracks the door open in confusion. “is there something you need?”
dokyeom nervously looks left and right as if he fears something. so perhaps the possibility of a serial killer isn’t thrown out the window, he decides. “i saw someone on the first floor who was looking for you, and they looked really aggravated. just- be careful, okay?” he whispers. before he can say anything, dokyeom scurries away and darts back into his own home.
well he’ll be damned. he supposes this does add a little zest to his mundane routine, and what screams zest quite like an aggravated person looking for him? he shuts the door and locks it before contemplating the events that could have possibly led to this. looks like pizza and his project will have to wait.
a few minutes later, jihoon hears footsteps stoming outside of his apartment. before he can ready a weapon, loud knocks echo throughout his apartment, though they’re much louder and much more aggressive than dokyeom’s. unsure of what to do, he hesitantly peeks through the peephole. when he does, he fully expects to see someone that screams serial killer material. perhaps someone with a gun or a knife, or someone wearing all black with murderous eyes. saying he’s surprised to see you standing outside of his door, angrily clutching onto a sheet of paper, is an understatement.
wait... sheet of paper?
perhaps the potential of a serial killer is better than what he’ll soon face, he decides.
mustering all of the courage in him, jihoon nervously unlocks the door and cracks it open. you’re standing before him, eyes narrowed; if looks could kill, he would be a very dead man. if he’s being honest, this is definitely not how he expected seeing you again. the fates are a funny thing.
“is there-”
“lee. ji. hoon,” you growl, grabbing the collar of his sweater. you drag him into his apartment and kick the door close before pushing him into a wall. under normal circumstances, jihoon would be very flustered. a little turned on, maybe.
but in these circumstances, he’s very nervous and a little afraid. “yes?” he squeaks.
you glare at him, pointing a finger at the sheet of paper in your hands. “what the fuck is this?” so much for small talk. he doesn’t have time to answer, because then you shove the paper in his face. it’s his final song dedicated to you, the one he had written after breaking your heart as a desperate attempt to get over you.
it didn’t work.
“funny that you should ask,” jihoon nervously laughs. “because-”
“don’t act like a smartass right now. you-” you inhale on five... exhale on ten... and repeat. “you wrote me a song like this and a letter on the back trying to justify leaving me without any answers and expect me to just take it?”
looking back, he does realize it is kind of a horrible move. just more reason why he should never get back together with you, because as much as he yearns it, he doesn’t deserve to. “no, i suppose not.”
his nerves quickly disappear when he sees the look of hurt that washes over your face, all traces of anger gone. now he just feels his heart dropping all the way down to his toes. “i thought you left because you didn’t love me anymore.” your voice is quieter, a stark contrast from your yelling, though it’s the way your voice wobbles, the way it sounds so fragile that stands out to jihoon. he can feel the two years of grief hitting him in all directions, seeing you so hurt. “you just disappeared from the face of earth. why?”
you know the answer, having read his letter and analyzing the lyrics of his song. but you’d take the words out of his mouth than on paper any day, no matter how unreliable. jihoon can only give you his guiltiest look, though it can’t even begin to compare to the guilt eating at his heart. he doesn’t respond immediately, frozen in place. the silence hangs heavy between them, and he swears this is all a dream. because you aren’t real, standing before him, begging him for answers.
but the sharp inhale that leaves your mouth is a harsh reminder that this is reality. he’s the one who hurt you as you struggle to keep your composure.
“i’m not good enough for you,” he begins. “i don’t...” inhale on five... exhale on ten... and repeat. “i don’t love the way you do, with your need to touch and for constant assurance. i can’t easily hold your hand or easily tell you i love you, because as blunt as i am, it’s so, so hard for me to just go out and say it. you fall into step with people like soonyoung so easily, because they don’t shy away from touch like i do. and you both can say you love each other without batting an eye and still be genuine about it. but i can’t do any of those things.”
he doesn’t give you a chance to speak. he’s already spiraling down a rabbit hole, too deep to come back out. his secret’s already out, so there’s no stopping it. “i’m not good at expressing how i feel, a complete contrast from you considering how you practically wear your heart on your sleeve. you deserve someone who’s love comes in the form of warm touches and firm affirmations, the same way you love people. i don’t want you to adjust the way you express love just because i can’t.” he doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels something wet roll down his cheeks. you’re just as surprised as he is, because he rarely cries. “you deserve better.”
his final words have some sort of domino effect on you, because as soon as he says them, you march straight up to him and squish his cheeks together as hard as you can. he makes a muffled noise of confusion, staring at you with startled eyes.
“you...” you’re already shedding tears, but it’s the fierce look in your eyes that catches his attention. “you stupid, fucking, dumb idiot!”
you’ve always had a colorful vocabulary. “who are you to decide who’s good for me and who isn’t? mind you, i’m only a month younger than you, and i’m quite capable of making my own decisions!”
you continue, “i’m not dumb, jihoon! i was your best friend before your lover, you dumbass! i know better than anyone how much you hate physical touch and how hard it is for you to put your feelings into words! do you think i jumped into this relationship completely forgetting that?” you don’t even try to hide the way your voice cracks anymore. “i’m in love with you because of how stupidly organized you are. i’m in love with you because you feel emotions more deeply than others. but what really made me decide to pursue you is the fact that you never tried to change yourself for anyone! so what happened?” you sob, loosening your hold.
jihoon’s heart clenches. “i thought... having to adjust to fit what i felt comfortable with discomforted you. i thought you would’ve been happier-”
“YOU MADE ME THE HAPPIEST, YOU DUMBASS!!” you yell. “do you not realize that this whole time, these are all things you thought? because you never once tried to talk to me about how you felt?” you let go of him and walk away, turning your back on him. “the only way we can ever resolve issues like these is if we talk things out. i know you don’t like to, jihoon, but look what the alternative did to us.” you gesture at the state you two are in: crying, guilty messes, letting lack of communication completely derail your relationship.
perhaps this was what wonwoo had been trying to tell him all along: communication is key. he realizes this too late, now standing in his apartment with your heart in his hands, and his in yours. the guilt of taking the initiative all by himself without consulting you and the fact that even after everything, you can still confidently say that you love him, is so overwhelming that his knees buckle and he slides onto the ground, tears silently falling down his cheeks. you really were right when you called him a stupid idiot and more. he deserves all of those names and tenfold for doing this to you.
a silence hangs in the air, and he wonders if you’ve gone, too afraid to look up. a part of him wants you to stay, though he can understand if you left. you deserve that much. but then you slide onto the ground before him with matching tear stains, and you cup his cheeks. it’s a silent question of consent, and he closes his eyes, letting himself sink into your hands.
you lean in and rest your forehead against his. it’s warm and makes him feel a fuzzy feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. “you’re really fucking stupid,” you murmur. “what were you thinking?”
“of you,” he whispers. he can feel your breath fanning against his face.
“obviously not, if we had to take a detour to get to where we are now,” you respond. “you’re lucky i love you.”
at this, jihoon opens his eyes and removes your hands from his face, standing up. even after unnecessarily breaking your heart, even after making these decisions himself?
you’ve known jihoon long enough to read him, even if he prides himself in being a closed book. “i’m still very pissed, and i’m not stupid enough to just jump into a relationship and forget everything that’s happened. but...” you stand up and take a step closer to him. it’s careful and precise, like how you’ve always taken care of him. “you jump, i jump?”
it’s something you two always say when you’re about to do something stupid. you and jihoon are an inseparable pair; even if jihoon is the logical one of you two, he’ll still find himself being roped into another one of your reckless shenanigans. he can still remember the one time in middle school you were trying to get a very scared jihoon to ride a newly opened roller coaster at the amusement park you two had gone on for a field trip.
“i would rather keep my remains, thanks,” he remembers saying.
but you’re stubborn personified, and you’re very firm on having your partner-in-crime beside you. “you jump, i jump?” you had asked.
he knew you wouldn’t push him if you really knew he couldn’t do it, but apparently you just know what things he can do, given the right push. that push comes in the form of that phrase, because then he finds himself climbing onto one of the seats, nervously clutching onto your hand.
but this isn’t middle school anymore, and jihoon knows even with these cleared up misunderstandings, it’s going to take a while for both you and him to assimilate yourself into a proper relationship.
yet he’s never wanted anything so badly anymore. he’s yearned for your smile, your laugh... you, for too long, and he would be a fool to give up this second chance. he takes a step towards you and laces your fingers together. he seldom touches anyone like this, and he can tell you’ve missed it, tightening your grip. “you jump, i jump,” he repeats with more confidence.
everything’s a little blurry, probably because of the tears in both of your eyes, but the one thing that’s clear to him is when you dive into his arms, burying your head in his chest. the last time you had done this, he left with your heart in his hands.
jihoon wraps his arms around you. “i’m so sorry,” he mumbles, burying his head on top of yours. “i got a little lost on my way here.” it’s supposed to be a lighthearted joke, though he can hear you sniffle.
“you came back to me,” you quietly laugh, a little unable to believe that you’re in his arms again and that this isn’t just a dream. your voice is wet and raw from crying and yelling, but jihoon’s never heard a prettier sound. “that’s all that matters.”
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thrillridesz · 4 years ago
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may the best man win ▫ changmin
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➳ pairing: best friend!changmin x gender neutral!reader ( ft. boyfriend!juyeon ) ➳ genre: fluff, love triangle!au ➳ warnings/rating: mentions and consumption of alcohol (PG13) ➳ word count: 1.4k ➳ requested?: no
a/n : this is written as a birthday special for tbz’s resident dancing (sometimes biting) king, changmin ^^ happy changmin day! this is unedited for now, i’ll edit it soon though so i apologise in advance for any errors. this is also inspired by this one scene i saw from an offlinetv vlog featuring my favourite youtube couple, michael reeves and lilypichu >< 
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“Happy birthday, Changmin!”
Changmin smiled as Eric popped off yet another party popper, hooting with joy. He watched the glittery confetti fall to the floor quietly, the dimples in his cheeks  deepening yet as he did, he couldn’t help but let his sights drift to you. You who looked so outrageously gorgeous today with that silly party hat on and that radiant smile that he loved so much. He always adored the way your eyes would shine with such genuine mirth and liveliness and the way you would throw your head back whenever you laughed at a joke someone said. 
In a way, his birthday felt so much better just by having you here. Sure, Changmin would have appreciated everyone that came to the party today but it was you who made it extra special just like you always did with your presence. The two of you have known each other for almost half your lives now but you have always been such a calming and impactful figure in his life. You stood up for him when the bullies in the courtyard wouldn't back down and you shared your lunches with him whenever his parents were so busy they forgot about it. He still distinctly remembered the many nights the two of you would chatter over the phone, laughing about the weirdest things and then laughing some more until you were both clutching at your hurting bellies.
It wouldn’t take anyone with half a brain to realise he was fast catching feelings.  Practically everyone who hung out with the both of you could tell... That is except you. 
The look in Changmin’s eyes hardened as Juyeon draped his arm over your shoulder, his large hand pulling you closer to him as he whispered into your ear. Seeing you giggle at whatever Juyeon was telling you and knowing that it was another man who made you smile so merrily the way you did was a special form of heart wrenching. 
Oh, how he wished he was the one next to you instead. 
Changmin shook his head, the smile on his face dimming ever so slightly. 
He shouldn’t be having such thoughts.
“Guys, anyone up for an impromptu arm wrestling match?” Sunwoo asked as he downed his shot of liquor, drawing up his sleeves, “I’ve been going to the gym lately and let’s be honest, I’m going to wreck all of you.”
Eric shot him a scathing look.
“Random much? I was going to say no until you said that so bring it on. We’ll see how good Mr ‘I go to the gym’ really is.”
Sunwoo smirked, a hint of determination in his expression.
“Sure. Losers take a shot.”
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“What the hell?!”
Changmin leaned back, a smug grin hanging on his lips as he watched Sunwoo’s face simply crumple up in dismay. 
“Losers take a shot, you said it. Now, drink.”
Glaring at Changmin, Sunwoo gulped down the drink in an instance and slammed the shot glass on the table. Blinking rapidly as he clenched his jaw while the strong alcohol burned the back of his throat, Sunwoo could feel his face growing hotter and hotter by the minute. 
“How are all of you so strong? Especially you, Changmin! What have you been eating?”
Changmin shrugged nonchalantly.
“Just maintaining a healthy lifestyle.”
“Admit that you’re weak, Sunwoo,” Eric chuckled, clearly enjoying the whole thing a little too much.  The dark haired boy simply remained silent, pretending not to hear as he shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.
“Let me have a go.”
All eyes turned to you and Changmin could have swore he felt his heart skip a beat. It was always this feeling of excitement and warmth whenever you were around and this time was no different.
“Ooh, we have a new contender!” Eric declared, putting on what he called his ‘gameshow host’ voice. 
“Next to the arm wrestling table, we have... The formidable y/n! Ding ding ding!”
As you settled across the table from him, Changmin’s eyes glittered with mischief and playfulness as he tried to still the rapid beating of his heart that felt so delightful yet so nerve wracking.
“Might want to make sure you’re actually ready, y/n,” he said softly as he winked at you.
“We’ll see, Ji Changmin.” You shot him a grin and for a moment, Changmin wondered if that was considered breaking a rule. Aren’t you technically not supposed to make your opponent’s heart do all sorts of flips before a match?
As the two of you held hands and laid your elbows on the table, Changmin noticed Juyeon was nowhere to be found.
“Where’s Juyeon?”
“He’s off taking a call, he’ll be back. Why, are you trying to catch me off guard? You’ll never.” You said, the grin on your face growing wider.
“1, 2... 3!” Eric called out and Changmin could feel you gripping on more tightly onto his hand as you tried to overpower him to no avail. 
That sensation sent a pleasant jolt down his spine but he remained firm. In all honesty, you were no match for him. All of your strength was quite positively only a fifth of his and at any point of time, it would have been so easy for him to simply claim victory but he didn’t. Call him deluded but having your hand in his felt so right. He knew you were attached and having these thoughts weren’t technically justifiable per se but he couldn’t help it. 
“Guys, I can’t...He’s too strong.” You said in between laughs.
“Giving up?” Changmin asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
“Never. I know I can’t win but at least let me fight for it.” You replied indignantly.
It was a split second decision but one that he was happy to make as he completely let loose, causing your hands to fall instantly to his side of the table, allowing you to win.
“You did that on purpose!” You pouted.
“I’m a gentleman. That’s what we do.” He said good naturedly.
Only to you, it seems.
“Why weren’t you a gentleman to me then?” Sunwoo chipped in with a miffed tone.
Changmin rolled his eyes as he lightly shoved the younger boy before looking up to see Juyeon entering the room with a cellphone in his hands. He would never admit it but whenever he saw Juyeon, he would feel his heart sink just a little.
“What did I miss?”
“Oh, Changmin and y/n had an arm wrestling match. Y/n won.” Eric said, popping a piece of candy into his mouth.
Juyeon’s eyes widened before they crinkled into crescents as he turned to Changmin.
“Went easy, huh?”
“Juyeon!” You whined in protest, throwing a pillow at him which he dodged, laughing as he did.
Changmin returned the smile even though he didn’t really want to.
“I guess.”
“Why don’t the two of you arm wrestle? Juyeon, you haven’t had your turn!” Sunwoo pointed out to which you nodded your head, voicing your approval.
“Yes! Avenge my fallen pride, Ju!” You called out.
“Mine too.” Sunwoo said, still sounding a little disgruntled.
“Same here!” Eric quipped. 
“Alright, alright. Calm down, you guys.” 
As Juyeon settled in front of Changmin, he couldn’t help but feel a certain sort of fiery energy radiating from the man across him. There was this sense of intimidation he was feeling and as he looked into those dark eyes of his, Juyeon could tell that beneath that bright, adorable appearance Changmin had, there was something lurking behind that exterior. 
“You’re probably just thinking too much, Juyeon. Changmin is a friend,” he thought to himself as they clasped their hand together.
“It’s all fun and games, dude. May the best man win.” Changmin whispered, causing Juyeon to snap up his head to stare at him.
“1, 2 and... 3!” You yelled out and before Juyeon knew it, his hand was slammed against the table and he had lost. The dull pain on his knuckles was nothing compared to the shock in him. 
The room erupted into chaos as Eric jumped up and down excitedly while Sunwoo shook Juyeon by the shoulders but he barely registered anything. There was definitely no mistaking what he’d seen. As he followed Changmin’s gaze to you who had your jaw hanging open at how fast that match went by, Juyeon realised with a start that perhaps things weren’t really always all fun and games.
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yan-twst · 5 years ago
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hello! can I request a fluff dorm leaders reaction to the Yuu/reader proposing to them
tfw you were gonna use the word "fiancé(e)" but it's a goddamn french word so it's gendered and the parenthesis looks ugly as hell and isn't even a gender neutral alternative ヽ(;▽;)ノ
riddle rosehearts
he'd immediately go cherry red and be at a loss for words
he'd be internally scrambling to respond, knowing that he has to say something, but his mind is drawing blanks. is this- this is happening. oh god it's happening
he'd barely choke out a "yes" before taking his darling into a tight hug; he's overwhelmed with emotion. he loves them more than anything: to know they want to spend the rest of their life with him, even with all his oddities and habits...
he wouldn't cry, but he'd get teary eyed in the hug, telling his darling how much he loves them. he'd spent so much of his life under his mother's thumb, being shaped into the "perfect son"- but now, he had found someone who wanted to share a future with him as he was, without making him change
leona kingscholar
the prince would freeze for a second, then quickly react with a fond laugh- of course he wants to marry his darling! duh. he'd say yes and immediately sweep his darling off their feet
he'd immediately smother them with kisses- he actually doesn't know exactly how to react, but he's so happy and full of love that his instincts tell him to kiss his darling.
for a long time, leona had never thought anyone would want to be with him- leave alone marry; he was known as a grumpy, violent and useless second prince, and he'd assumed that his brother, farena, would end up arranging some marriage to get him out of the palace. but it won't be that way- now he has his darling, and they're the ones telling him they wish to spend their life with him
he usually tries to downplay his excitement and emotions, but he can't for this particular ocasion. of course he can't: his darling is once again showing him how much they love him- he hasn't felt so happy and excited for the futufe in a long time
azul ashengrotto
he'd immediately gasp and cover his mouth in shock. did he- did he hear right?! a proposal, coming from his darling- to him...?!
he cries from joy. absolutely reduced to tears, his usual cool and sly act completely gone as the wave of emotions hits him. he's crying and trying to speak at the same time, barely even making a coherent "yes" as he wraps his darling into a hug
he always thought his future was lonely; part from how insecure he felt of himself due to his childhood bullying, and part because he knew his business was shady and nobody trusted him. so to be there, holding his beloved in his arms, accepting their proposal- it's better than a dream
for once, all his insecurities melt away for a second- his darling chose him, they popped the question to him. they love him and want to spend their life with him- the happy tears don't stop flowing, even if he's wetting his darling's shoulder with them
kalim al-asim
he's on the moon and almost jumping when his darling pops the question. is it even a question?! of course he wants to marry them! he's the luckiest man in the world!!
despite growing up seeing his father be rather dismissive of some of his wives, kalim deeply believes in love and marriage from fairytales and legends. his darling wants to marry him; that's the ultimate expression of love! oh, he loves them so much!!
he cries a little from the excitement, but he's mostly just full of energy. he's bouncing all over, hugging and kissing his darling, twirling them around- he's overjoyed and it shows
he'll immediately want to inform everyone he cares for of the good news- his darling might have been the first to propose, but now kalim gets to throw a big parade for his now bethroted! he ha to show the world his joy and love!
vil schoenheit
for such a dramatic man, vil is rendered speechless when his darling proposes to him on a date night. his eyes are wide and his cheeks go red- for a second, there's silence. he seems to be getting teary-eyed, but holds back the tears; he cannot have his mascara running while he's being proposed to!
he'll say yes in the most flowery, poetic way he can while holding back tears and practically shaking from how excited and happy he is. he can't believe his darling was the first to propose; however, the amount of joy he feels more than makes up for the fact they caught him off guard
he'd take them into his arms and kiss them- for today, he won't fuss about ruining his lipstick. there's much more important matters- of course they are! he was just proposed to by the love of his life!
he'll feel the urge to slow dance with hus darling. he just wants to hold them close, and gently sway with them for a while; he wishes he could say more, but the only words he seems to be able to muster from his love-overdriven heart are variations of "i love you" at the moment
idia shroud
he's shaking a bit when his darling begins to ask the fateful question. could it be- is he dreaming? he has to be dreaming, right...? could it truly be someone as amazing and beautiful as his darling is asking to spend the rest of their life with someone like him...?
he'll ask them if they're sure- to propose to him?! truly?! his darling probably already knows idia is quite peculiar in this sense; he's reassured by their gentle explanations. yes, they love him, yes, they want to share their future with him- and once he's convinced, he basically cries out yes
he feels like he just got the maximum achievement in life- the cutscenes from games where you can propose to characters absolutely do not compare to the real thing, he concludes. he's flustered and overjoyed- he doesn't even notice he's instinctively hugged his darling thight, or that there's tears in his eyes
he cannot comprehend how such an amazing person like his darling would want to stay by his side and love him for the rest of their lives; however, he can't think of a happier future
malleus draconia
he remembers his darling had once asked what dragon fae like him did when proposing and marrying- what were their traditions? did they do anything different from humans? at the time, malleus had assumed that his darling was merely curious
but when his darling surprises him with a traditional fae proposal from his land (well, as good as one that a magicless, non-fae could make), he realizes how foolish he was: of course his darling would go the extra mile. and it worked- he couldn't even begin to express how touched he was
a promise to spend the rest of their time together... for humans with such short lives, the promise meant a lot; and to malleus, it meant even more. that his darling loved him so much, that they saw a future with him when everyone else in his life seemed to flee in terror from him- it brings a tear to his eye
he'd immediately take his darling's hand into his, and then gently pull them close, touching his forehead to theirs. they were truly a special, beautiful person, weren't they? of course he'd accept their proposal- he couldn't see any better way to spend the upcoming years
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cxptain-carol · 4 years ago
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𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧' | 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨
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➺ summary: of course it had to be the cool and aloof shoto who you fell for, out of all the boys in class a. for now, you’re content admiring him from afar—but one thing leads to another and now it’s time for you to confess.
➺ pairing: todoroki shōto x reader
➺ word count: 2.7k
➺ warnings: stress/overthinking, general insecurity is mentioned, one bad word (also i briefly mention your quirk & there’s a suggestive comment)
➺ genre: fluff, pining (?)
➺ gender-neutral and racially inclusive reader
➺ a/n: this is just cute cliché fluff that i hope can cheer ya up if needed :)  please enjoy as i abuse italics and ellipses...
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You were surprised there weren’t rose petals floating in the air and angels singing, to top off just how ethereal Shoto looked in fourth period. Well, fourth period and every day.
Present Mic was talking but his ear-piercing voice might as well have been crickets with how distant you were from the classroom. You were in a Shoto kind of mood today, and just by reassuring yourself that you were a relatively hardworking student, you let school take a backseat to your uncontrollable heart.
It hadn’t even been that long since you finally admitted to yourself that you were most definitely crushing on Todoroki but that didn’t even matter, because it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep your thoughts clear of him. 
Shoto wasn’t even really your type. He was a bit too quiet and came off a little detached but somehow that just added to your fascination with him. He scared you at first, but now you admired him for his cool nature and genuinely impressive skills. That was really where your problems lay.
Shoto was much too cool and remarkable to like someone like you.
You usually didn’t compare yourself to others (you had a pretty nice Quirk and were good at using it) but of course you couldn’t help but realize you paled in comparison to Todoroki Shoto and it made you unbelievably insecure.
But that didn’t stop you from finding him attractive.
Your right cheek was squished against the palm of your hand, propped up by your elbow on the desk. From your optimal desk placement, it was too easy to watch Shoto out of the corner of your eye, and even turn your head to stare at him when he looked down.
It was definitely creepy, but he was yet to catch you so it was fine.
Shoto brushed his half-red-half-white hair out of his eyes and copied something down, squinting a little bit as he bent over slightly to write. You wanted to squeal but bit your lip to keep it in—he just looked so cute and it was making your heart race.
In the back of your mind, you could hear and process that you were supposed to be paying attention to the directions for something but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from Shoto’s serene expression even as he looked up at the board.
Stop it, look away! You were trying to urge yourself but it didn’t seem to work.
Sure enough, Shoto’s bi-colored eyes locked onto yours in a heartbeat and you flinched, jolting out of your comfortable rest and into an upright position pointed straight at the board, trying to ignore the heat that rushed to your face.
✾  ✾  ✾  ✾  ✾
You tapped your fingers on the smooth surface of a clean notebook page, biting the end of your pen as you looked out the window. Most of the Class 1-A students had retreated to their rooms, but you and a handful of others milled around the first floor.
Your legs were tucked under you in your spot on the couch, and you swayed your head slightly to the quiet music playing in your earbuds. There was only one assignment left for you to complete but you were absolutely exhausted already; it had been a long day and you were ready to go to bed. Maybe even think about Shoto before falling asleep.
“Y/N! I was about to go up—wanna come with me?”
You swiftly ripped out your earbuds to see Ochaco, who appeared pretty much out of nowhere, with a bright smile and pink cheeks like always. You smiled involuntarily at the sight of her and nodded, but quickly remembered you weren’t actually finished.
“Oh, um, maybe later? I still have one more thing to do,” you replied, pointing to the blank notebook page. 
Ochaco looked disappointed for a split-second but went back to her usual cute grin, leaning over the back of the couch towards you.
“It’s okay! You don’t mind if I sit with you, right?” 
“Go ahead,” you said quietly, pausing your music and setting the mess of cords aside while she sat down beside you. You gripped your blue pen tightly and started writing faster, but felt Ochaco staring. You finished up a sentence and finally turned to her. She was still smiling, but in a different way. You had a sinking feeling that you knew where this was going.
“Are you gonna ask about Shoto?” You questioned her timidly, already beginning to sweat in anticipation of the upcoming conversation.
She looked into her lap shyly, her smile slightly fading.
“Well, I just noticed you looking at him today and I wanted to talk to you about it. Of course, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to!” Ochaco’s brown eyes sparkled under the lamps as she looked at you, hopefully.
“It’s fine,” you said, cheeks warm and homework forgotten. “If you really want to know, I like him.”
Not even a moment after the words left your lips, there were hurried footsteps approaching the two of you and a bright pink ball of joy was sitting on the next couch over.
“Really?! Y/N, I think he likes you, too!” Mina contained her excitement to the best of her ability.
You shook your head, barely bothered by the fact that another person knew your secret and more concerned with Mina’s unforeseen confession.
“No way! If he likes anyone, it’s probably not me,” you said, looking over at the table Shoto had been sitting at before going up to his room almost an hour ago.
“I’m telling you! I was watching him this past week and he was looking at you, like, a lot. Oh my gosh, you guys would look so cute together! I almost forgot to tell you that, by the way, thankfully I was eavesdropping,” Mina said. She and Ochaco were both smiling as they stared at you, looking convinced that there was no reason to question the validity of this new “information.”
“But there’s no… no way! I don’t really care if he doesn’t like me back, anyway,” you played around with your fingers, uselessly trying to brush off the false hope that Mina’s words had secretly given you.
“Y/N?”
You looked up at Ochaco, who wore a soft expression on her face.
“I think you should tell him how you feel, after class tomorrow. I trust Mina and after thinking about it, it looks like she could be right! I know you don’t believe us but it couldn’t hurt to go after him, right? I’ll even tell him for you, if you want.”
You had been so sure that Shoto barely noticed you that there was a large possibility that you missed some hints. Of course, the other side of you was completely unmovable. But Mina looked so happy, and Ochaco was so excited too… 
“I mean, I’ll think about it,” you said. You couldn’t help but smile as the two girls’ faces lit up.
Mina laughed a bit as she squealed excitedly. “Can I watch the whole thing? I’ll hide behind a wall or something!”
Your face felt hot again as your mind lingered on what you actually got roped into. Confessing to Shoto… alone… with no true confirmation that he even reciprocated your feelings. 
The idea of doing such a thing was so unlike you that you wanted to cry out of fear. There was a lot that could go wrong.
“Y/N, you’re gonna be fine. There’s no doubt in my mind,” Ochaco added, sensing your unease.
You nodded, half-terrified and half-excited as you started stacking your books in your arms to go upstairs. Mina hugged you, still giddy over your answer but you could only feel anxious. You hadn’t even considered confessing to Shoto and now you practically didn’t have a choice?
It seemed like you wouldn’t be sleeping a wink that night.
✾  ✾  ✾  ✾  ✾
Red and white.
Your brain was so preoccupied with imagining all the different ways Shoto could react that those two colors were practically etched on the inside of your eyelids.
Of course, the happy-ending scenarios were your favorite to imagine. You don’t stumble over your words or start sweating profusely, and Shoto says he’s been in love with you since the day you first met.
It’s a little too good to be true.
You recognized that and as a result, filled your head with the possibility of rejection and humiliation at the hands of Todoroki. Each time the clock ticks, you prepare yourself for it. You might have been optimistic in most situations, but your love life was really just uncharted territory and you couldn’t afford to think like that.
The sudden scraping of chairs against the floor and chorus of loud voices alerted you that the last class of the day had finished. 
And for someone who had just spent hours panicking, you felt oddly ready.
“Psst,” a small voice whispered and you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see Mina and Ochaco’s smiles of encouragement. You nervously sent one back before standing up from your seat.
“Go, go, go! We’ll take your stuff with us!”
You picked up your pace towards the back of the classroom as Mina’s fingers poked you in the back.
You can do it, you told yourself, slowly easing your nerves. A small smile formed on your lips but it went away almost instantly when you looked at Shoto and your insecurities began to surface.
Shit, he was just too good-looking.
You took a deep breath and walked the last few spaces until you were right beside Shoto’s desk.
Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t-
“Hi.”
Your fingers instinctively reached for the back of your neck and you scratched awkwardly, much too shy to look Shoto in the eyes.
“Hi! I was, um, wondering if you could step outside with me for a second? I… I want to tell you something,” you said. See, that wasn’t so bad.
“Oh, sure.”
Why doesn’t he emote?! Maybe he doesn’t care about me at all… 
Shoto stood up from his seat, leaving his supplies behind. He was obviously taller standing up but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. It didn’t help that his resting face was handsome, too. You tried to keep your cool but it all felt so different—you went from fantasizing day after day about him to this.
Once you two found a quiet spot further down the hall, you took another deep breath and looked up at Shoto. 
He was looking back at you, but not in a way that scared you; in fact, there was something in his gaze that made heat rush to your cheeks and brought your hand back up behind your neck again.
“Um, I know we don’t talk that much but I think you’re really cool,” you began, taking another look at Shoto to see that he had tilted his head to the side, eyeing you as if you were a curious little thing that he simply didn’t understand.
“And… and even if you might not feel the same, I-”
A flash of pink moved somewhere in your field of view.
You looked for it momentarily, causing Shoto to look away from you and in the direction of your line of sight. You tapped his arm lightly, giggling a bit as he looked back down at you, slightly puzzled.
“It’s nothing, sorry,” you said, feeling a little less nervous.
“But I was saying that I think you’re really cool a-and I might have been staring at you a lot for the past few weeks because you’re cute and-” Your eyes widened at the words leaving your mouth and you sneaked a look at Shoto, who seemed equally shocked.
“I mean, y-you are cute but that’s not why- wait, sorry… geez. I, um, like you. As more than a friend.”
Damn, you must have done something pretty remarkable in one of your lifetimes to be able to experience the beauty of Todoroki Shoto.
You bit your lip nervously as you awaited a response, but Shoto’s reaction was somehow much better than anything he could have said.
His relaxed stance tensed up in surprise at your words. You could see his hands shift around inside his pockets and you heard him intake air so cutely it cut through the wall of fear that was built around you since you first approached him. But his face was what made your heart flutter with joy. Even if it was just a light blush, you made his cheeks turn pink.
A hopeful smile stretched across your face as you admired him, waiting patiently as he thought out what to say (and you wished frantically that it turned out in your favor).
“Y/N,” you hopped cheerily at the way he said your name, “I… I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“I made sure you didn’t notice but I was also watching you. I… think that I like you, too.” Shoto ended his little confession, still pink-cheeked but looking satisfied with himself.
“Really? I mean, wow! I-I can’t believe- but, what do we do now?” You weren’t really looking for an answer; you wanted to jump for joy, maybe even scream. It was like lifting your hood to see the sunlight after weeks of having it drawn shut. You couldn’t tell whether you wanted to kiss Shoto (considering the context of the situation) or just hug him out of blissful relief.
“Well, would you like to go out with me sometime?” Shoto offered, looking down at you, amused at your delight with a hint of adoration in his eyes.
“Yes, of course!” You were done with this awkward conversation: all you wanted to do was feel Shoto’s arms around you. But you knew him well enough to understand he wouldn’t hug you right then.
Shoto wore a small grin as he watched you and after a moment’s contemplation, you beckoned him a bit closer. He obliged, bending slightly.
High off of the rush of the moment, you leaned in and pressed a little kiss to his cheek, right below his scar.
Shoto pulled back slowly, looking thoroughly shocked. You bit your lip again, hoping you hadn’t gone too far.
“W-Wow, thanks,” he managed to say, his face a few shades redder than before. He couldn’t make eye contact with you, instead choosing to stare out the window shyly.
“No problem, I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” you replied, the smile returning to your face. “I guess I’d better get going then.”
You straightened out your blazer and took a step out of the little corner you had been occupying. With a look over your shoulder, your heart fluttered again at the sight of him, flustered and frozen.
“Well, bye Shoto.” You waved at him—he waved back, the rosy blush still prominent on his beautiful face—and turned back around, with a slight bounce in your step.
“Wait, Y/N!” 
You spun around eagerly.
“Would you like to walk with me?”
✾  ✾  ✾  ✾  ✾
“I’ll just say it: I knew you could do it, Y/N!” Ochaco was grinning from ear to ear again as the three of you lounged around in Mina’s room, still in your uniforms because you were far too excited to talk about the afternoon’s events.
“And I’ll just say it: I wasn’t watching Todoroki at all before!” Mina chimed in but the smile fell off your face in an instant.
“So I just went into that with nothing even kind of ensuring that he liked me back? Oh my god, that could have gone so wrong,” you sighed in relief, your head in your hands as you looked down at the floor.
“Well, I was just trying to give you a little confidence. I think this just proves that you can pull any guy you want, Y/N.” Mina smirked.
Heat rushed to your face. “I don’t think I’d go as far as to say that.”
Mina ignored you, opting to lean back in her chair and eye you curiously. “Okay, now we have to start talking about the future for you two—this is just the beginning. When do you think you’ll take your relationship to the next level?”
“What?! I-I didn’t realize we’d have to-”
“Y/N! Get your mind out of the gutter! She did not mean it like that!”
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inactive-luv · 4 years ago
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TW: depression, gender dun dUN DUN
word count: 2216
a/n: i’ve got a lot more gender neutral Spencer Reid fics loading :P
(Spencer's POV)
On a normal day, I would set my alarm for five in the morning and wake up slowly. I'd pour a cup of coffee and make myself some toast. I take a shower and brush my teeth and maybe listen to an audiobook on my way to work. I got this recommendation from Garcia, Ready Player One. I listened to the narrator's voice at a pace 'normal' people would read.
A part of me always felt self-conscious about myself, how I was different compared to everyone else. My mom called me special but that just made things worse. Special still sounds like there was something wrong with me. And that was just my I.Q, later on, I constantly got made fun of for the way I dressed, how I wasn't 'normal' enough. Never 'masculine' enough.
I haven't had a normal day in months. I started to wake up naturally around three am, if I ever slept. My thoughts kept me awake, thinking about the insults and taunts I got. I lay in bed most days. I told Hotch I was sick and stayed in a comatose state for most of the day. I would stare at the ceiling and wonder about myself.
I couldn't do anything. I couldn't eat, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't use the bathroom. The thought of having to stand up in front of the toilet. Washing my hands in a men's restroom, everything just made me sick. I hadn't gone to work in a week. It sounds odd but I didn't feel safe there. Work used to be where I could concentrate and use my abilities to my advantage, I watched and analyzed people's emotions for a living but now, it became so hard to think about myself.
I felt exposed in the workplace, at home I felt more comfortable using my own bathroom and I could wear my own clothes. I felt like someone else in the bullpen, someone different. Having to hear my name makes me feel imaginary. I didn't feel real in my body.
Getting out of bed this morning exhausted me. I dragged my feet across the wood and looked down at my sweater. The temperature in my house was always hot, something with the thermostat, but I couldn't stand looking at my own skin. I wore a thick sweater and a robe on top of it, long pajama pants and big socks. I knew I had to take off these clothes if I wanted to go to work today. I really did, I missed my friends, I missed having to do something.
Having a purpose meant a lot to me. I lost sight of what I was meant to do with my life, I would just mope around my apartment without doing anything and I still felt exhausted. I hated being here, I needed to do something. I couldn't just stay here for the rest of my life. I so desperately wanted my normal life again, but I couldn't even think about stepping outside my house.
I hate thinking about having to do normal things. I hated using public restrooms and wearing my normal clothes. Life becomes meaningless if you can't even look at yourself in the mirror.
A while back I put towels over all of my mirrors, this morning I lifted the one in my bedroom. I looked at myself for the first time in a long time. I looked at my eyes, the bags underneath them screamed tired and disgusting. My whole face looked blue and purple. I saw the veins in my neck, and when I touched them I winced.
Taking a deep breath, I started to remove the robe in front of me. I watched the fabric fall to the floor when I felt the ends of my sweater. A burst of energy filled my gut and flooded through my veins, causing me to haphazardly lift the shirt fully over my head and shimmied my pants off. I felt angry. Angry at myself for not being able to do the easiest things. And sad watching my body shake and my skin crawl.
I forced myself to stare at my chest. I stared long and hard at the flat shape and bare skin. I started to run my hand over my abdomen and I could feel my ribs protrude out of my skin. Tears started to fill my eyes when I glazed over my underwear. I could see the outline of my legs and the thought of what was between them made me sick. I felt like throwing up.
I rushed to the bathroom and clutched at the sides of the toilet. I quickly thought about all of the germs and bacteria and immediately lunged away from the seat. I washed my hands five or six times until my skin curled underneath the stream. I splashed the water on my face and began to sob. I ran my hands over my face and my eyes tinged from the tears.
When my hands roamed their way back to my chest I fell to the floor in a mixture of emotions. I felt depressed, gross, I felt cheated in my own flesh and blood. I felt contained to the bottom of my bathroom sink. The tears relaxed and I started to slowly lift myself off of the cold tile.
I wobbled back to my bedroom and tried to open my drawers. I reached for a dotted shirt and slowly buttoned the clothes on myself. With each button, I sniffed and let out a heavy sigh. I wanted to change my underwear but every time I slid my fingers past the waistband I cringed. I couldn't bring myself to look past my abdomen.
I just tried to pull on a pair of work pants without my eyes and slide a brown belt through the loops. I stared at myself in the dresser mirror and reached for another layer to put on over my body, a brown cardigan. I wanted to smile. I tried to force the corners of my lips to move upward but they only drooped a little lower. I swallowed my tongue and went to get my coat.
...
I walked into the lobby and saw people walking throughout the halls, I felt so out of place. I slowly slumped up to the elevator and pressed the button. It was halfway through the workday, a little after lunch. It was raining so hard outside I could hear it through the elevator walls, I heard the pat pat pat just outside the floors and I started to feel thirsty. I hadn't drunk much water in public because I didn't want to have to use a public bathroom. It wasn't a problem until one day I had to be sent to the emergency room.
I got nervous as the elevator doors began to open. I lifted my head and was relieved not to meet anyone as I stepped out. A sore feeling manifesting itself in my throat. I look up to see everyone in the conference room. I barely catch Rossi's eye when I start to walk up to the bullpen. Soon I can feel everyone's eyes on my back when I rest my bag on the edge of my seat.
J.J. walks out of the room to wave me over. I watch her walk back into the room, I look at her heels and her pretty blouse. I think back to what I'm wearing and feel gross. Why do I keep stressing about these sorts of things? Morgan doesn't worry about how he's dressed. Hotch doesn't care about shoes or what he has to wear. Rossi was the one who probably cared the most and even he didn't notice the things I do.
I rush up the stairs noticing how everyone is waiting on me. My pace slows down as I get closer and closer to the threshold of the conference room. "Hey, pretty boy's here!" I clench my jaw at the sound of that nickname. My stomach turns inside out and I think about just running out of the room and heading back home, or anywhere but here. "Why don't you sit down we were just starting." Garcia tries to talk to me in her sweet voice. I missed her so much, I missed everyone.
"No thank you," I whisper. I hadn't spoken words out loud in a long time. I don't talk to myself and I hadn't seen anyone else in days. I clear my throat gaining a sliver of strength from the anger in my gut. "No thank you I," I start stronger before pausing mournfully again, "I think I need to say a few things before I come back, officially. C- can you all please sit down." I choke in my breath and all of their faces turn worried when they look at me.
"Uhm, I know I haven't been here in a while but uhm," I turn my head to the floor, "I want to be able to come back, I do, and I uh," It gets really hard to talk without tearing up. I swallow hard when J.J tries to pat my arm, I don't mean to but I flinch and try to push her hand away. "I can't come back until," I'm afraid I'll start hyperventilating, "God I'm sorry." I move my hands up to my face and wipe away a few tears before swallowing and whispering again. "I can't come back until I figure out what's wrong with me."
"Kid there's nothing wrong with you-" "Yes there is! I- I- I can't sleep! I can't get dressed by myself! I can't even use the bathroom without feeling sick!" The words pool out of my mouth in a harsh tone and J.J. steps back when I flail my arms, "I can't look at myself in the mirror," Tears stream down my cheek when I turn my face around the room. "I need things to be different around here." Even Hotch's expression turns saddened and weak.
"I-" I choke and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. " I hate the name 'pretty boy'." I try to turn my eyes from Derek who's leaned over to see my expression, "I hate being referred to as 'Sir' or 'Mr.'" I bite my quivering top lip and draw my eyes back to the floor. "I hate hearing," I pause and clear my throat again thinking it would help stop my cracking voice, "he did this or it was him who," I sniff looking at Garcia whose eyes are also filled with tears.
"I'm not comfortable," I whisper and Emily gapes her mouth as if to say something then closes it rubbing her nose instead. "I haven't been comfortable for a long time. I don't know what I am anymore." The word 'what' sticks in the air for a minute before J.J. tries to pat my arm again and I let her. She eases in to hold me and I shut my eyes to stop sobbing.
"I- I- need," I start before shaking my head, "I'd like people to treat me differently." I furrow my brow thinking what to say next, "I looked online," I wipe my face again trying to slide J.J away from me, "and all the labels really scared me but uhm," I pause again "I think I'd like to try something I've been pushing down for a while." Rossi nods his head.
I feel awkward standing in front of all of these people, my friends. Years ago I could trust them with my life but now I felt so exposed and broken. I was scared of how they were going to react, I felt like screaming in my stance and running out of the room crying. I muttered out the first words before shaking my head and trying again. "I think," I clear my throat again, "I want to try different," I look at the group, averting my eyes off the floor while the edges of my lips curl into a saddened smile, before whispering the last word, "Pronouns."
I see Emily mutter a small "Oh," and Morgan's face turns confused. I slump into a hunched position and continue to cry softly when people start nodding their heads looking up at me. "Well," Hotch starts and people start to look at him. "I think that what you're asking for is," He pauses looking to the group then back at me.
"Perfectly reasonable and we will do or call you whatever you want" They all nod and mutter incoherent words. "Yes, yes of course we can." Garcia stammers wiping tears from her eyes looking at me from across the room. "What, uhm what would you like?" She asks rubbing her hands together, "To, you know," she shakes her hands before wiping more tears from her face.
I smile for the first time in weeks. It's not a toothy smile or a cheek to cheek grin but, it makes me feel safe knowing I can still do the things I used to. Come into work and smile. I catch my sighs and draw in a deep breath before looking at Garcia, "They/them." And the rest of the team smiles too.
...
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jamestrmtx · 4 years ago
Text
Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]
[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]
Chapter Three | sans. (Part 1 of 3)
[First] | [Previous] | [Next]
meet me by the train station.
the place's bustlin' and tori's here with me, just in case you're worried 'bout meeting a stranger all alone.
That's surprisingly thoughtful.
And I'm guessing Tori means Toriel?
The goat lady who looked after Frisk?
yup.
she's gotta go deal with some legal stuff 'bout us living on the surface, so she can't stay for long.
but she'll still be here by the time you get there.
Hmm…
Now that just makes me more suspicious of you.
Tell me why it's important that only you specifically want to talk to me about this?
Doesn't Toriel know about what happened down there, too?
yeah, but…
i need to talk to you about somethin' else.
stuff that'll probably be a lil' difficult for me to explain, but that you should still know, being frisk's parent and all.
Now I'm curious.
I'm stuck in some traffic, but I should be there soon.
Would it still be okay with Toriel if I get there in the next ten to fifteen minutes?
textin' while drivin'?
My aunt chose to drive me here.
'Cuz she also said she doesn't trust the whole situation much.
heh.
alright.
tori says it's fine. she doesn't need to leave in the next hour so…
see ya soon, (l/n).
See you soon, mister Serif.
"How's he gonna know who you are if only you have a picture of him?" you aunt asks, eyes locked on the road. Her bright red nails, just as flashy as the rest of her outfit, glisten under the sun, fantasy jewellery and wrist watch doing the same. Her tanned skin almost glows with health in comparison to yours, yet to be healed from the past two months of tension and wait. There's also her signature and almost hair salon professional level of cleanliness when it came to grooming her hair, making her overall, outer appearance far more different and striking when compared to you.
"(Mom/Dad)'s all over the news now!" Frisk says, answering her question before you can even word your thoughts out in mind, too busy noticing how much you've let yourself go in so short of a time.
You plug your phone to the car charger and meet with the side view of your aunt's face. "Like Frisk said. The guy I'm meeting says my face's been thrown out on the news a lot lately, so he already knows what I look like." You pull down the mirror and take a quick look at yourself, eye bags and stress acne now partially covered with a cheap, (s/t) foundation and expression made to look less tired thanks to a full eight hours of sleep. Still, you're far from looking anywhere near to the days before Frisk's disappearance or all the pictures displayed on the news, these from a similar time. All the stress and constant sorrow was still present on most of your features, from something as subtle as the loss of brightness in your eyes to something as noticeable as the drag in your walk and the small slump in your posture.
"Do I look okay, auntie?" you ask, taking advantage of a stop sign.
Brenda spares a quick but meaningful glance at you and a small smile manages to show on her face. She stays quiet even as her eyes go back to facing the road. At a second stop, this one caused by a red light, she looks at you again, saying, "Why are you so concerned about that, dear? I get wanting to look well and dignified for meeting new people, but this is the third time you've asked me today." She giggles when Frisk does, both apparently sharing the same thought. "You look fine, by the way. Though a bit of rest could do you good." The light changes and she carries on driving, slowing down and turning on the signal when she sees the train station to her left. "How many hours do you work, by the way? If you're still working overtime, you should stop that now. Not only for my dear grandchild's sake, but for you to get your long overdue beauty sleep."
"...Sixty hours a week?" you mutter, already anticipating a dramatic reaction from her. Even Frisk seems to notice your answer's not favourable enough to her, so they brace themselves by grabbing on to their seatbelt and pretending they're not paying attention to the conversation anymore.
Staying true to herself, Brenda almost slams the brakes just as she's halfway into parallel parking and snaps her gaze over to you, eyes wide and mouth agape. "What?!"
"Sixty a week," you repeat, louder now. "I had to get my mind off Frisk going missing somehow, so I... took that chance to save up some more by working overtime."
"That's fifteen hours too much, dear." She frowns. "That's either twelve hours a day for five days a week, or working non-stop every day for at least eight to nine hours! No wonder you look so stressed. What about your friends? Your family? Your coworkers?" She seems to notice why you've lowered your voice and does that herself, reminded over Frisk's presence at the back seats. "Oh, honey…" She sighs. "Did you really just work, eat, and sleep those two months they were gone?"
"...Maybe," you reply, looking away from her. "I just didn't know what else to do, and having free time for myself made me feel more guilty about it. The only time I sat down was to watch some TV for when I couldn't sleep at night."
Your aunt finishes parking and lets out another sigh. A gentler look crosses her eyes and she gives in, letting her body relax. "Do you have enough to get by? Please, be honest with me so I can help you out. Alright?"
You smile back at her and nod. "I have enough now. I'm pretty sure I can get by with a regular schedule again."
"With weekends off?"
"With weekends off."
Her smile grows and she unlocks the car, allowing you to step out. "Be careful out there, alright? Just make sure to call me and I'll head back here straight away if anything strange comes up."
"Thank you, auntie. So I'll pick up Frisk at five?"
"Oh, there's no rush. You can always stay the night, anyway!"
After a nod, you get down from the car, open the back door, and climb onto the empty seat left next to Frisk. 
"See you later, dear." 
You kiss their cheek and look at the phone resting in their hands. There were plenty of questions you wanted to ask them, such as who was Alphys and how she'd gained enough knowledge to develop something with that level of technology, and why it still worked up here despite being programmed to function at the Underground. You remind yourself of the people waiting for you at the train station and wrestle those curiosities down, setting all questions aside for later. "Be good, okay?"
They nod, sign a "Love you!" with their hand, and hold you back to give you a yellow sticky note, folded in two. "Give this to him. And don't forget he can be unexpected sometimes!"
You sign an "I love you, too" back to them, take the note, and step out of the car, waving at them and your aunt before closing the door and pocketing the note away. It stays unread, and while you'd like to know what's written on it as well as the reasons for Frisk warning you about meeting with that monster in particular, they'd specified it was for more sillier reasons, like that of meeting up with a stand up comedian, or more frankly put: a clown or a court jester.
Now alone, you take out your phone and check the messages, a new one from 'Mister Serif' showing up.
hey, uh…
tori hadda go.
an emergency happened, so now she's gotta rush off to the department to see what's up with some documents she turned in.
i know this seems sus as hell, so just wait for me at a more open area, alright?
stick to anybody you're comfortable with and we'll meet there.
I'm honestly touched at how much you're worried about this.
Though all that just makes me think I'm being catfished even more now.
Are you for real, mister Serif?
Can someone be as observant and thoughtful as you appear to be?
see for yourself.
>> Attachment - 1 image
You can't avoid being taken aback when the monster sends you a picture of himself. It's a definite recent one, given he's sitting by a bench close to the train tracks. He holds up a shaka sign with one hand and a coffee cup on the other. A grin decorates his face and the bright lighting shows the picture was taken just now, sun rays piercing through the windows.
I'm somewhat convinced.
need more proof?
Who are you, my Cinder match?
if u wanna.
Oh God.
You're killing me.
inna good way?
Perhaps.
You stop yourself when you realize you're on the verge of flirting with someone you haven't even met in person yet, let alone introduce yourself properly to. The picture he'd sent doesn't help either, as you can only begin to question yourself and your morals over having found him attractive for a split second. While it could have just as easily been the surprise of him sending a picture out of nowhere, it could've also been how laid-back he seemed in that picture, striking a shaka sign that made him look just like a surfer dude and a coffee cup to contrast with that vibe, adding a spark of the typical college student you saw at campus, his hoodie and sneakers only adding to that feeling.
It's then that you realize something's off.
If he was holding a cup with one hand and a sign in the other…
Then who took the picture?
Though you're pretty sure you're overthinking the situation now, you're still better safe than sorry and take advantage of your recent fooling around with him to pass that worry off as a joke.
Wait a minute, mister Serif.
yeah?
If you're holding a cup with one hand and striking a pose with the other, then who took the picture?
Or did you use your magic for that?
a random dude who looked trustworthy enough took it for me.
he's one of those guys who're totally ok with us living here at the surface, so he just snapped the picture for me and even asked if it was for a date i was gonna meet and all.
no magic needed.
And I'm the President of the United States.
But, seriously now…
Are you for real?
yeah.
>> Attachment - 1 image
The picture displays him with a bearded, brown skinned man clad in a suit and holding a suitcase, looking ready for work. Still, his smile shows little to no seriousness and instead displays youth and content over having his picture taken with a potential friend. His height surpasses the monster's by half a foot, though when you compare it to the rest of the people in the background, it's clear Serif is simply shorter compared to the average human. You try not to let your eyes linger too much on the monster when you're done looking at the man, not wanting to fall into the trap of your mind having found him attractive earlier ago. Still, you can't help yourself and take a more thorough look at him again, seeing him now with his eye sockets closed, almost mimicking a pair of eyelids squinting in joy. His arm's hung over the man's shoulders, and vice-versa. 
i made a new pal.
"meet up already!" - his words, not mine.
Trying to be smooth, huh?
maybe.
is it working?
Somewhat.
But...
Strange Cinder date vibes aside,
I'm almost there.
aight.
can't wait to meet ya, bud.
You slip the phone back in your pocket and go up the stairs of the train station, stopping when you make it to the line of benches close to the tracks. True to his word, the skeleton sits on one of them and the man who'd taken a picture with him is now waving at him, seemingly saying his goodbyes and headed off to work. You approach the station one careful step after the other, pace slowing down more and more as you feel a sudden awkwardness slip on your shoulders.
Your texts sent off vibes you didn't want present now that you were about to meet him in person. You were still worried about what happened with Frisk a few days ago, and how their happiness pretty much froze when being asked if the monsters had treated them well during their time at the Underground. The one you were about to meet could very well be one of those who'd hurt them, so you brace yourself and try not to be swayed by the softer atmosphere present during your texting with him. You acknowledge the man who'd taken his picture with a wave and a smile back at him. Then, you continue walking and finally approach the bench.
"It's nice to meet you, mister Serif." You acknowledge him with a wave, unsure of how friendly you can be with him.
"Likewise, pal." He holds a hand out to you, bringing forth the warning Frisk had given to you about him.
Out of all the things Frisk had warned you about, it was to be careful around the skeleton, but primarily due to how he seemed to be the type to joke around and prank people often. One thing in particular you were warned about was in shaking hands with him, so right as he offers his hand out to you and just as you're about to reach out, you miss his hand, take a step closer, and pull him along for a hug instead. You then unfold the sticky note and press it against his back with enough pressure for him to feel it and let go when you're done.
"Frisk warned me about you, and even though they haven't told me anything I should be worrying about yet, I do know I should be careful for other reasons. And they told me to give that note to you, by the way."
You sit down and watch as the monster attempts to get the sticky note unstuck, his short height proving to be a disadvantage, as it also comes with shorter arms. He goes as far as to use his magic to get it out, leaving you to bite back a smile and wonder if you've been too rude with him just now. Still, you wait and keep your eyes on the train tracks while he reads the note you've left for him.
"Not gonna say anything about it?" you ask, surprised to hear nothing from him even as he slips the note in his pocket.
"Patience, pal," he replies, words followed with a chuckle and continued with a wink. "Just take it as some friendly payback on my part -- Now we're even." He sits back down and meets with your eyes, his expression changing from humoured to stern at the drop of a hat. "So, what you're sayin' here is the kid hasn't said much about me yet?"
"No," you reply, hesitating. You fight between keeping a smile and a frown. "They've been awfully quiet after I asked them if there were any people down there who treated them badly." You catch yourself becoming emotional, so you breathe and blink a few times to fight that back. "It...  It feels like they shut themselves away from me, and now I'm not too sure about how to approach the situation anymore." You stop to catch your breath again, feeling yourself grow anxious already. "They can talk non-stop when it's about all the good things Toriel, Alphys, Papyrus, and… And even what you did for them, but whenever I ask if there was anything that made them feel unsafe, they… They bottle up and run off to do whatever chore there's left to do around the house."
A gust of wind helps freshen up your burning face, product of a train stopping nearby. You wait for him to speak up, body tensed all the while.
"Y'know, I…" The monster sighs, faces down, and rubs the back of his neck, looking lost in thought. "I think I can answer that for ya, but it's gonna be a bit of a long story." He glances at his phone for a moment, seemingly to check the time, and later adds, "Wanna head out somewhere to eat? We can talk about it there over food and drinks. Better than talkin' on an empty stomach, don't you think?"
Despite how somber the mood's become, that trademark grin of his you've already grown used to seems to stand out a lot more now, bringing forth a genuine, welcoming expression in addition to the offer he'd made to you. "Sure," you reply, smile returning. "And... Sorry for dumping all that on you all of a sudden."
You both stand up and make your way out of the station, walking side by side as you continue with the conversation. 
"It's cool, pal," he says. "I'd be a lot more worried if you didn't worry about it."
[First] | [Previous] | [Next]
-------------------------
This turned out to be a whopping 7k+ word long chapter, so it's been divide into 3 parts (between 2k to 3k words each, which is the usual length of each update).
So... Long story short: there'll be a double update next week in order to post Parts 2 and 3!
Expect the same thing for whenever a chapter exceeds that limit. :-)
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beelsnack · 4 years ago
Note
Hi!!! I LOVE UR WRITING AND I MEAN A LOT! Its the first time EVER I ask for something and I know you are the right person! I don't know if you can write a HC of a female MC or it NEEDS to be neutral but just in case: How would the brothers react to a fem MC who is like"flat", (almost no breasts) and is super insecure? If you only write neutral, how would they react if MC was insecure because they have no curves at all and they think they are plain? THANKS A LOT 💞💞
Omg I’m??? So honored?? Thank you so much, I hope I can live up to the praise. ^////^
Yeah, I can def write a female MC! My only rule regarding MC’s gender is that you specify in the request if you want a certain gender for the MC. Other than that, I default to gender neutral pronouns!
I feel like I kind of mixed the two versions of your request together without meaning to, lol. This ended up being more like a fem MC who thinks they are plain. I hope you like it regardless!
I’m sorry this took so long, friend. I was in a bit of a creative slump and I wanted to put my all into your request!
CW: Suggestive situations, but nothing explicit
-----
Lucifer: “Come on, stop staring.”
Lucifer smirked from his position beneath her, using one arm to prop himself up while the other reached up to trail along her jaw. “Am I not allowed to admire your beauty?”
“I’m not beautiful,” she muttered, glancing away shyly. In the heat of the moment, both of them had discarded a majority of their clothes, but now that she had a moment to think, she hesitated. “Especially not compared to you.”
“I wasn’t aware that our relationship was a beauty contest,” he sat up fully, brow creased in concern. His hands made their way to her waist, steadying her as she straddled his lap. “Tell me what’s on your mind, my dear.”
She bit her lip, face growing warm. “It’s just…wouldn’t you prefer someone more…more?”
“My dear,” he chuckled lowly. “You are already quite the handful.”
“I meant…physically.” she crossed her arms over her chest, and Lucifer couldn’t tell if it was a subconscious gesture or not. “I’m not exactly…you know, well endowed.”
He was quiet for a moment before sighing and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “If I wanted to be with someone based solely on appearance, I have my pick of the whole Devildom. You, my dear, are the only one who had managed to enrapture me with more than just your pretty face.”
Mammon: “Hey, human! Check it out!”
Mammon actually knocked on the door while he spoke, they were making progress.
She looked up from her schoolwork and smiled at him. “What’s up?”
“The Great Mammon is on the front cover of Devil Today, that’s what!” he tossed the magazine he had been carrying on top of their textbook. Splayed across the front in full color was Mammon, staring coolly over his sunglasses at the camera. The only change from his normal attire was swapping out his normal brown and white jacket for a black leather one, so it was clearly supposed to look casual.
Her eyes drifted from Mammon’s picture to beautiful demoness hanging off of his arm. She was exactly what a model should be - tall, slender, well-endowed, the works. The human felt a surge of jealousy climb up their throat, and she had to struggle to force in down.
“Hey, hey,” Mammon planted his palm flat on her desk, leaning down so he was eye-level with her. “What’s with that face?”
“What face?”
“The face yer makin’.” he frowned. “You look like you just took a bite out of something rotten.”
Her eyes flicked back to the glossy magazine cover. “Nothing. The picture looks great, Mammon.”
“You really think you’re getting out of this that easily?” he might lack common sense, but Mammon could read facial expressions and nervous tics like most people read books. “Come on, tell me what’s up.”
“I just…” she sighed, slumping back in her desk chair. “I keep wondering when you’re going to dump me for one of these amazing models you work with.”
Mammon’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. “You’re kidding me, right?”
When she shrugged and looked away, he huffed and took her hand. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”
“Even Goldie?”
“Hey now, don’t be cruel!”
Leviathan: Was she really getting jealous over an anime girl?
A quick glance at the screen in front of them told her that yes, yes she was.
“Whoa, I, um…!” Levi gulped, scrambling for the pause button. The main couple was in a locker room, the girl clad in nothing but a pair on gym shorts and a flimsy tank top. There had been plot that lead up to this scene, but she had stopped paying attention a while ago.
“The reviews didn’t say anything about an r18 scene…” Levi mumbled, face turning bright red. She could see his bright orange eyes flick over to her briefly before he desperately searched for anything else to look at. “Oh, man. Ohhhh man…”
“Levi?” she gently placed a hand on his arm, and she felt him tense, but he didn’t pull away. Maybe the exposure therapy WAS working. “You good?”
“I-I-I…” he kept looking back and forth between her and the screen, face getting redder with each pass. Yup, he was definitely comparing.
Almost instinctively, she curled in on herself. Of course, she should have known she couldn’t even begin to compare to a 2D girl.
“Ah, wait, no, don’t look like that!” Levi stammered. “I just, um…th-this is the first time…I’ve thought the 2D one was…b-b-better…”
She stared at him for a solid thirty seconds before her brain caught up with what was happening and her face grew just as hot as Levi’s looked. “…Oh…”
Satan: Well, someone was certainly popular.
Satan had asked her to go to a new cat cafe that was opening up after classes had ended. He always took a bit longer to reach the entrance since his last class was all the way across the campus, so she had found herself a nice bench to sit on and read while she waited. It was only a few minutes before the doors opened to reveal Satan…
And a whole group of succubi.
Obviously, since he was one of the Seven Rulers of Hell, Satan got quite a bit of attention. Although she didn’t want to admit it out loud, the thought of him surrounded by demons whose literal reason for living was to turn people on made her feel a bit…inadequate.
One of them had linked her arm with his, manicured claws drumming along his forearm and she smiled coyly up at him. They were too far away for the human to hear the conversation, but the way her glossy lips pouted cutely up at him certainly didn’t make the human feel any better.
As they descended the stairs onto the cobblestone walkway, Satan’s eyes met her. Almost immediately, the vaguely irritated expression he had been wearing melted into something warm and he shook the succubus off of his arm without a second thought.
“Hey, sorry for making you wait.” he was at her side in a second, extending a hand to help her up from the bench. “Were you here long?”
“Only a few minutes,” she peeked over his shoulder at the fan club that was slowly morphing into an angry mob. “Um…”
“They’ll get over it,” he held onto her hand as they began walking, leaning over to kiss her temple. “Come on, let’s go. What were you reading?”
Maybe she didn’t have anything to worry about.
Asmodeus: This was a mistake.
A new nightclub had opened up in the Devildom Cultural District, and as Devilgram’s biggest influencer, Asmo had gotten some VIP tickets. He had practically begged her to come, since it was so rare that she wasn’t bogged down with homework and other mundane things. The thought of going clubbing with a bunch of demons made her feel a bit queasy, but she had agreed anyway.
Of course, Asmo was taking forever to get here. Knowing him, he was still in the bath. But, her name was on the VIP list, so the bouncer had let her stand behind the rope to wait for her date.
She watched as what seemed like every Devilgram model was let into the club. She couldn’t hear anything being said over the pounding base of the music, but she had caught enough disparaging glances to get the general idea that she was being judged.
She probably looked like a kid playing dress up compared to everyone else. Although she had thought that she looked fairly decent when she had checked herself out in the mirror before leaving, being surrounded by the Devildom’s best and brightest put a very unflattering filter over her self image.
“There you are!”
She jumped as Asmo appeared in front of her. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the bouncer let him in. He looked stunning, as always, hair curled stylishly and already long lashes made even longer with mascara. Honestly, this man could show up in a garbage bag and make it the next fashion trend.
“Ooh, that dress looks amazing on you, darling!” he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, briefly overwhelming her senses with the smell of his cologne. “I’ve never seen you wear that color before! Look at you, stepping out of your comfort zone.”
“Thanks, Asmo,” she laughed. “You look amazing too.”
“Don’t I?” he held out his arm for her hold onto like a proper gentleman. “I tried this new moisturizer today, and it’s a miracle-worker! You have to try it.”
“Is that Lord Asmodeus?”
“Of course it is, any club owner worth their salt would invite him for the opening!”
“Who’s that mousey little thing with him though?”
She could only catch snippets of conversations, but the Devildom rumor mill was already turning. She couldn’t help but frown, tucking herself closer to Asmo’s side.
“Don’t listen to them, darling,” he leaned down to whisper-yell into her ear. “They’re just jealous, and jealousy doesn’t look good on anyone.”
Beelzebub: This was the last time she was working out with Beel.
It might have been different if they were working out at the House, but being surrounded by demonic weightlifters made her feel a special kind of incompetent.
Everyone in the gym looked like they should be starring in a weight loss infomercial, but she felt like she was the before picture and everyone else was the after. She was wearing a baggy T-shirt that she was pretty sure wasn’t even hers and basketball shorts. Everyone around her was all toned muscles and six packs, and her arms felt rubbery just from a few reps with a five pound weight.
“You need some water.”
Someone of Beel’s size had no right to be as sneaky as he was. She hadn’t even heard him set down his weight, and suddenly he was standing in front of her holding out a water bottle.
“Thanks.” she sighed, setting down her weight. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she took a drink. “Man, I feel tired already.”
“You’re doing good,” Beel smiled. “Maybe next time you can try the ten-pound weights.”
Just the thought made her biceps twinge. “Maybe…”
“You don’t have to feel self-conscious.”
“Huh?” Damn him and his unexpected perceptiveness.
He sat down next to her on the bench, popping the cap on his own water bottle. “You were looking around at everyone else, and you had this look on your face like you just ate something bad.”
“I’m that obvious, huh?” she laughed weakly.
“Not really,” he shrugged. “I was watching you.”
“You were?” she had been too busy comparing herself to everyone else to notice.
He nodded. “I like how you look when you’re determined. It’s…cute isn’t the right word, but…”
She couldn’t help but laugh, bumping him with her shoulder. “I get it. Thanks Beel.”
Belphegor: “Hey, come on, wake up!”
Sometimes she swore Belphie purposely fell asleep whenever it was the most inconvenient for other people.
She honestly didn’t know when he was conked out, but he was deep in slumber by the time she closed the textbook she had been using to fill out her study guide. He had folded his arms on the library table that the two of them had commandeered and pillowed his head on top of them.
“Why do I even bother…?” she sighed. Even so, she poked his cheek. “Belphie, come on. They’re going to close the library soon.”
He mumbled, but stubbornly remained asleep. Growling under her breath, she stood up and placed both of her hands on his shoulders.
“Bel. Phe. Gor,” she punctuated each syllable of his name with a shake of his shoulders. Finally, he groaned, one drowsy amethyst eye blinking up at her.
“Man, I was having a really good dream…”
She huffed, crossing her arms. “Were you even sleep long enough to dream? We’ve only been here for an hour or so.”
“O ye of little faith.” he yawned, sitting up. “I guess it’s best you woke me up, it wasn’t a dream I should be having in public.”
“Please tell me you weren’t having a wet dream in the school library.”
“Mm,” he smirked up at her. “It wasn’t a wet dream yet. More like moist.”
“Gross.”
“Well, I thought it was pleasant.”
She rolled her eyes, beginning to gather up the books she had spread across the table. Belphie continued to watch her through heavy-lidded eyes.
“You were really cute in my dream.” he finally said. “Not that you aren’t cute in real life, but still.”
She paused. “You were dreaming about me?”
“Who else would I dream about?”
“Literally anyone else.” she frowned, refusing to look at him as she shoved all of her supplies back into her bag. “I’ve seen some of the succubi around here, there are way better options.”
“Do you really think that?” Belphie reached out and grabbed her wrist. He wore his usual disinterested frown, but there was genuine concern shining in his eyes. “You really think I would trade you in for a bigger pair of tits attached to a screeching harpy?”
She just shrugged.
“If this was just about how you looked,” he stood, still holding onto her wrist. “Do you really think I would sacrifice my precious nap time to study with you?”
“Well, I mean, you still had your nap time…”
“That’s beside the point.”
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onyourzeus · 4 years ago
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7:04 am | youngk
airport drabble with kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & f!reader. 2.4k words, fluff, requested by anon (thank you)
requests closed
the air is clean, and the floors pristine white. you rub remnants of sleep from your eyes as a yawn sneaks its way out of your lips. seated at the bench in the corner, you lazily watch people walk past, their faces contorted in different expressions of similar sleepiness, enthusiasm, or downright frustration for being up so early away from their beds (most likely). clasped in your other hand is a rectangular piece of slightly thicker paper, some words bolded and numbers imprinted on the side lengthwise. you’re careful not to wrinkle it too much, knowing that it already has a spot in your journal once the trip has ceased. 
you shift your focus from people watching to the hallway right across from you, two openings on either side. due to your consciousness still not at its one hundred percent, you don’t quite remember which side was the men’s restroom— or if both were gender neutral to begin with. either way, it felt like an eternity waiting for younghyun to come out of there, your feet tapping impatiently on the floor.
you have an unlikely relationship with airports— sometimes the thought of being in one excites you, and others you absolutely abhor it. for completely different reasons. however, right now, you feel excited, maybe a little anxious — but that rarely leaves your system when you’re trying to follow a tight schedule like your boarding time. 
finally, you spot him coming out of the right side— hair still fluffy and all-around messy, his white and brown fleece jacket hugging his upper body making him look like a tall, giant teddy bear. a smile naturally paints on your face, feet staying still but yourself buzzing with anticipation. he has that effect on you, a lot of times. 
“did i take long?” younghyun chuckles at the sight of you, jumping out of the bench while rolling the balls of your feet on the tiled flooring. he looks a lot more awake now compared to the cab ride here, droplets of water streaking his temples. you grin wider, taking his damp hand in yours as you drag your feet towards your assigned gate. 
“no, but let’s hurry!”
“okay, okay— whoa, easy there. do you know what time it is?” 
“time for us to wait by the boarding gate before everyone else does!” you look back at him expectantly, missing the kid running past you in a narrow direction. for some reason, this alerts younghyun’s senses and catches you by the waist, the soft, wool-like material of his jacket rubbing against your thin long sleeves. you feel a sudden warmth on your cheeks, but dismiss the childish reaction as you witness younghyun’s playful smirk. 
“don’t want to get hurt before we meet the parents now, do we?” 
“n-no…” you continue blushing, his hand releasing his hold on your side but continues to intertwine it with your fingers. this time, he leads you forward as you recover from flushed cheeks and the impending realization you’ve been avoiding in your mind since packing up for this very trip last night. 
“it’s not like it’s the first time you guys have seen each other in person,” he reassures you. “and the last time we visited, they absolutely adored you.” 
“that was almost a year ago, younghyun,” you protest, pouting at the thought of his parents expecting even more from you since then. you have had the occasional small talk with his mom over messages and emails, sometimes getting to talk to his dad for a few minutes when younghyun is on the phone with him. 
“what if they expect me to own a multi-million company by myself at this point in my life?” the harrowing thought seemed silly, but knowing how independent and, not to mention, successful the kang household is dating back from his great grandparents… maybe it’s just the minimum effort they would want to see in you. 
the one and only son of mr and mrs kang, however, doesn’t seem to agree. 
younghyun halts right in front of the airport employee verifying tickets and id, and turns directly towards you. the light from the high windows up to the ceiling shone through the glass, shining a streak of brightness over your boyfriend’s face. he peers through the sunlight with narrow eyes, but you only laugh at his sorry attempt not to get blinded.
and yet, he looks absolutely perfect. and it’s not even eight in the morning yet. 
“love, i don’t even own a company, let alone have a million dollars in my wallet.”
“debatable.”
“i— what?” taken aback by your response, younghyun’s eyes gleam and the miniscule wrinkles on either side of his eyes turn at his laugh. “you’re overthinking this. you’ll be fine, we’ll be fine. besides, it’s my birthday in a few days— i expect them to be extra nice to me when we get there.” 
which is about two days from now, and the flight to canada takes approximately eleven hours. 
there he goes again, master of quelling any and all dubious content found in the crevices of your mind, the worry center of your brain always challenged by his sure confidence and practical look at reality. it fits, wildly enough, how you balance each other’s perception of the things that happen to you both in life. 
after showing both of your tickets, and being ushered further into the airport, you finally heave a sigh of relief. the gate isn’t too far from your current location, just a simple turn to the right and you’ll see the number 08 and a sign signifying your flight to canada. 
with your luggages checked in at the front, you only have a backpack slung around your shoulders, filled with some necessities for the long airtime. although, due to guidelines having to prohibit possession of liquids, you were feeling quite parched. and another yawn escapes out of your lips once more. younghyun follows suit, looking around the vicinity for a small shop.
“oh, i see a coffee stand over there. let’s go?” 
“yes, please,” you comply, letting him lead the way. the smell of roasted coffee beans and milk gets stronger as you close into the queue, only three people before you. you stand in front of younghyun, looking up at the menu behind the register. suddenly, arms covered in snowy fleece wrap themselves around you, your backpack getting squished in between. it wasn’t as uncomfortable to you as it probably was for younghyun, but his chin resting on your shoulder and a quick, fleeting kiss on your cheek whips your mind elsewhere. 
with your hands awkwardly on your sides, you put them over his. the coffee aroma surrounding you had awaken you just a tad bit, but having younghyun almost rubbing his cheeks repeatedly against yours was more than enough for you to be aware of the pda. 
the line moves, and you assumed younghyun would release you by now but as you take a step forward, he mirrors your movement. his grip on your waist tightens, and his nose grazes against your skin. it tickles your ear, goosebumps running along your arms all of a sudden which he noticed. 
“cold?” he jokes, eyes all on you. for some reason, it’s hard for you to look back— as there’s only a few inches, one deep breath, until your lips meet. you don’t know what’s gotten into younghyun this morning, but you have a feeling it has to do with the missed opportunity of extra cuddles in bed as the alarm blared at your ears at five forty-five am, and maybe he can still read the anxiety hidden in your visage. 
“clingy,” you retaliate, sticking your tongue out shortly. you hear the barista up front call in the next guest, an the two fo you would be there soon so you tap his arm, signaling your request for him to release you. it’s not that you were uncomfortable, surprised (and secretly delighted) would be a more accurate description. 
“grumpy,” he states, eyebrows raised at your confused ones. he relents three seconds later but not before giving your lips a kiss that lasted shorter than you had wanted. you’ve kissed him this morning, maybe too many times before needing to call a cab— but something about him meeting your pursed lips in a short but sweet moment, out in public only highlights the feelings tumbling in your stomach. 
“hello, good morning!” as if on cue, younghyun steps aside to let you order first. with warmer cheeks, you wring your hands to calm your beating heart down, and recite your drink of choice out of habit (didn’t have enough time to choose, honestly).
“and an iced americano too, please. all to go,” you tell the barista, seeing younghyun’s shy smile in the corner of your eye. it wasn’t as if his go-to was hard to remember at all, he basically runs on the stuff non-stop. 
your drinks get made soon enough, and you cup your with both hands to wait for the matcha latte to cool down. 
“how’s your americano?��� you ask younghyun, the two of you walking side by side. 
he takes a sip before answering, “bitter. and watery. it’s basically bitter water.” 
you cringe at the imagined taste, blowing on your own drink at the same time. “sounds amazing.” younghyun chuckles, unabashed by your reaction as he’s used to your constant slander towards his coffee of choice. 
your eyes find the only sign that says ‘flight to canada’ in mere minutes, feeling great accomplishment at the unoccupied seats near the gate. 
“why do you look so surprised? we literally have an hour and a half before boarding,” younghyun questions your marvelling. “people on our flight are probably just waking up right now.”
“so what? gives us more time to ourselves here,” you counter, walking around the empty seats and picking the ones not too close to the gate, but not too far from where they’d be asking passengers to line up. right in the middle.
“we could have used this time to sleep in just a little bit,” younghyun sits next to you, stretching his legs with a deep sigh. “or, you know, other things,” he adds, the glint in his eyes not missing a beat.  you slap his shoulder playfully, unprepared for the innuendos and physical affection he has been showering you today. 
“what’s gotten into you, younghyun?” you ask jokingly, half expecting him to shrug it off as you bury yourself in the goodness of your steaming hot matcha latte. he shakes his head dismissively, watching you take tiny sips from the rim of the open lid. the smile on his smooth, soft face permanently painted on there. 
“just want you to feel as comfortable as possible. it’s gonna be a long flight.”
“remind me again who falls asleep first during long travels? road trip to jeju? even just a thirty minute traffic jam in seoul a couple of times?” 
younghyun pouts, your winning smirk overtaking his confidence for a little bit. he huffs, almost finishing the america sloshing around crushed ice in his cup. “no fair, i was really tired then, okay?” 
“i don’t mind you sleeping during the flight, younghyun. really,” you reassure him, knowing that you won’t get a wink of sleep at all. the bubbling nerves are rising again, the more that you shove it to the side. 
“what are you going to do for eleven hours?” 
“dunno. think about life, create an unnecessary existential crisis in my mind, and possibly decide upon flinging myself off the plane entirely.” 
your dry humor is something younghyun can never understand a lot of the times, eyes blinking back at you rapidly, mouth hanging wide open from the straw of his drink. you continue to humor his incredulous expression targeted at you, tilting your head for maximum nonchalance. 
“babe…”
“hm?”
“you’re insane. absolutely insane,” he finally says, ruffling your hair in the process. you’d be more annoyed but there wasn’t really any effort put into your hair today. if anything, maybe he fixed it for you. either way, you tuck the stray bangs behind your ears and cross your arms, careful not to spill your drink. “you love me for it.”
“i absolutely do, although i have to admit you scare me sometimes.”
“i was kidding, younghyun!”
“yes i know, love, but— don’t say that in front of mom and dad,” he asks of you, gulping, “please?” 
you scoff at the idea, but his pleading eyes make you roll yours lightheartedly as you promise, “i won’t let your parents know about my acquired sense of humor so that they don’t worry about me or you, for that matter.” 
“thank you,” younghyun nods his head dramatically, looking serious but you know he’s itching to crack a smile as well. your heart feels full, in his odd ways younghyun has yet again quenched the anxiety trying to cough itself out of your throat. you think back to the times you’ve been in the same room as his parents. every time younghyun has been there, a guiding hand in the small of your back, or even a bold kiss on the side of your lips whenever one his parents ask you about your relationship.
really, this time shouldn’t be any different. your love for younghyun is still there, possibly having multiplied in ways you couldn’t have imagined upon meeting him years ago. there shouldn’t be a need for worries or unfounded assumptions of his parents disliking you for his son because you’re sure they’ve seen the way you look at him — with knowing eyes and a grateful smile for his existence in your life. and when you stand in the same space, the same house again in eleven hours, you’d be looking at younghyun just the same. 
in fifteen minutes, you end up falling asleep on younghyun’s shoulder waiting for the announcement of your boarding. he keeps your head comfortably cradled on him (as much as he can), patting the side of your cheek and humming a soft lullaby that hopefully transcends to the sweet dream you were having. 
he couldn’t think of a better place to be at this moment. as more passengers sit in the waiting area, their chit chatters growing louder, fighting away with the many announcements from the speaker, younghyun finds peace right beside you. anywhere that may be.
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obae-me · 4 years ago
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Beneath Still Waters- CH 1
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Miracle Meeting
Word count: 3600
Summary: It’s the first of many strange meetings you’ve yet to come across. As you feel you’ve hit rock bottom, someone comes along to give you an opportunity. Feeling like you have no other choice, you pack a bag and head to a town known as Old Midev, the place where your adventures will soon begin. 
Tags: (Mostly) Human AU, second person view, gender neutral reader, I do not endorse always following the advice of a stranger, but for trope purposes, it’s fun.
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They say that despite the appearance of calm surfaces, you should always be aware of the danger of currents churning just beneath them. There’s a point people warn you about, for once you drift too far from shore, there’s a good chance you’ll never be able to come back, even for all your fights and struggles. The best thing for you to do at that point is move with the flow, all the better to keep your head above water. Is that what your life had come to at this point? Had you been swept along by unseen forces, working to barely keep afloat? 
A little raindrop made its way down the glass pane, weaving and shifting past other stagnant dots of moisture. The trail it left formed small beads before it drifted down too far, disappearing from view. The locomotive ticked and churned along its path, unaffected by the storm outside. You sighed, changing your posture after having sat in your current one too long. Everything in your body was stiff, your muscles were sore, but most of all you were undeniably nervous. Was this a mistake? You wondered. Had it been too good to be true? But at this point...was there a better alternative? In all honesty, your life was at a low point. A very low point. Due to circumstances beyond your control, you’d lost your job, been told you had to find a new place to live by the next month, and finding any sort of stability financially, mentally, or otherwise seemed nigh on impossible. 
That was, till about two days ago. Trying to scrounge up any semblance of peace, you’d taken a trip to a local park. Disheveled, heartbroken, you sat on a bench, pondering if soon you’d have to sleep on this very seat in the near future. At that point, it seemed like a very real possibility. Little kids threw balls at each other and screamed in joy, the birds around you sang without a care. Everyone else looked happy. Everyone else didn’t seem to struggle as you did. And while it seemed silly, you couldn’t help but seem envious of everything. Envious of the adults who seemed to have everything together. Envious of the free birds. Even envious of the little flowers planted in their permanent little pots. 
“Mind if I sit here?” A gentle voice snapped you out of your thoughts, some worry racing through your mind, wondering if the stranger had noticed how bitterly you watched the passersby. The man was a kind looking soul; bright blue eyes, dark-toned skin, well-kept clothes, a shining smile on his attractive features. A soft breeze ruffled his curly brown hair. He pulled his ivory jacket closer around him, adjusting the blue scarf around his neck, the ends of the fabric billowing behind his shoulders. Something about him struck you as otherworldly, but you couldn’t place it. 
Aware of the way you looked compared to him, you scooted a little closer to the edge of the bench, straightening your own clothes in an attempt to make your hoodie and sweatpants a bit more presentable. “Uh...sure…” 
As he sat down, he thanked you only to apologize right after. “I’m sorry, I just had a feeling...maybe you could use some company.” Had you really looked that pathetic? Like a wounded animal left on the side of the road and calling out for help? You refrained from making a comment, hunching your shoulders instead. The stranger tilted his head at you, then lifted his chin to observe the puffy clouds drift up above your heads. “A beautiful day,” he expressed. “Don’t you think?” Really? Out of everything that could’ve possibly happened today, a charming yet odd stranger basically asked how you thought the weather was? Was it a good day? Was today, a day you’d been handed two rejected applications, a day you’d been hunting for anyone to take you in, a day you felt as if nothing could get worse, a good day? “It doesn’t have to be a good day,” he started, speaking as if he’d directly read your thoughts, “For it to be a beautiful one.” The breath in your lungs stopped for a moment as you observed him with semi-wide eyes. How did he…? The man simply shot you a sympathetic grin. “Ah, sorry for the assumptions. It’s just, in my line of work, you tend to see a lot of people sport the same expression. I couldn’t help but notice it on you when I passed by.” 
Some heat poured into your cheeks. So you had been that easy to read. A small family walked by in front of you, one of the younger children running too far ahead. Their guardians hurriedly reminded them not to go too far. Once they passed, you straightened your slouched posture, taking a deep breath. “In your line of work?” 
“I’m a doctor,” he explained. 
“Ah…” How much despair had he seen, how many grief-stricken people had left such an impression on him that he could simply tell how someone was feeling just by their face? Was he an empath or just observant? It doesn’t have to be a good day for it to be a beautiful one, he’d said. The leaves off the trees shone different shades of green, some shifting to warm hues in preparation for the approaching autumn, rustling under the beams of sun branching out from behind the clouds that rolled past the grey-blue sky. The air was crisp enough for jackets, but not yet cold enough for coats. You could smell the aroma of freshly baked goods, the air carrying the scent from the bakery just across the street. It was...rather stunning. “I’m going to be homeless.” The truth slipped out of you before you could process even moving your lips. With it, your emotions followed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been working towards has failed. My efforts amount--they amount to nothing! I don’t even know where to go or-or what to do anymore.” A choked back sob made your voice waver. “I’m sorry...I don’t even know you, I--I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just shared all that with a stranger.” The tears slowly began to dry as you brushed them away with the back of your hand. 
“Dr. Matthews,” he stated. “But you can call me Simeon.” 
You blinked, sniffling a little as you glanced quizzically at him. “Huh?” 
He rummaged for a few things in the confines of his pockets. With an outstretched hand, he offered you two things. One, a tissue, something you accepted with more than a little sheepishness as you dabbed the end of your nose with it. The second was a business card. It was a white and rather professional looking little paper with gold lettering. The name and title ‘Dr. Simeon Matthews’ was printed on the front, along with his email, business phone number, and website address. “Now I’m not a total stranger.” He smiled earnestly, and something about the idea of a doctor easily convinced that simply sharing a name would immediately make you acquaintances let a bubble of amusement float to the top of your mind. 
“Simeon?” You repeated, and he nodded to confirm you’d gotten it right. The vowels slid past your lips. “It’s a nice name.” 
He beamed at the compliment. “Thank you.” His long legs shifted and his hands fidgeted in his lap as he struggled with an internal thought. “Tell me...have you heard of Old Midev?”  You hadn’t. In fact, you couldn’t even tell what he was referring to by name alone. A book? A show? An illness? “It’s a little old town quite a ways from here, but it’s where I grew up. It’s so small most maps don’t even bother displaying it,” he chuckled. Homesickness stood out behind his eyes, his smile a lonely one. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been home...Do you like house-sitting?” His question left you stunned, and a pit formed in your stomach. You could connect the dots. Was he inferring what you thought he was? 
“Simeon!” A high voice turned both your heads. A child about the age of ten or twelve was awkwardly running towards the bench with a little plastic container in his hands. Golden hair bobbed across his forehead as he stood before the man and presented the container; a little cupcake with pink frosting and pearl-like sprinkles dwelled inside. From under the kid’s blue jacket sleeves, you spotted bandages as well as a medical bracelet covering his wrists. “I managed to get one! They let me watch them make it fresh! Doesn’t it look delicious?” 
“It looks amazing, Luke!” Simeon addressed the pale child. “But remember what I told you about running?” 
Luke huffed and raised his nose. “I’m old enough to buy this by myself! I can handle running a little.” 
“I just want to be cautious is all,” Simeon assured him. The doctor used a hand to gesture towards the kid. “This is Luke, he’s a patient of mine.” Your heart quickly sank. It explained the bracelet, why Luke looked too pale, why his bright tufts seemed so thin. Simeon noticed your face quickly drain, and he playfully ruffled Luke’s hair. “He’s been a fighter, but it’ll end up being moot if you waste all your energy running around like a rabid chihuahua!” 
Luke, affronted, swatted Simeon’s hand away and fixed the stray strands. “I’m not a chihuahua!” There was fire in him yet. He pulled the cupcake box closer to his chest like he had to protect it. His sweet innocence and their wholesome dynamic let a smile curl across your face, something that hadn’t happened to you for a while. “Who’s your friend, Simeon?” 
The man hesitated. He didn’t know how to explain that you two had literally just met, and your name had yet to be announced. He’d probably refrained from asking in the event it would make you uncomfortable. You drifted your sight between the two of them, the sense of unease devoid from your intuition. Usually you could trust your gut on sketchy strangers. The two of them felt warm, safe, strangely familiar, like you’d been fated to cross paths. Some faith in your humanity was restored, and as you looked at Luke, you remembered that other people were suffering too. If he could, you too could fight a little longer. With a little sigh, you let some of the heavy weight of hopelessness slide off your shoulders, and you shared your name. 
And that was simply the beginning of your journey. A meeting of miracles. 
Simeon had asked you again how you felt about house-sitting, and before he took off with Luke, he encouraged you to give the number on his card a call once you’d thought it over. Now here you were, on a train to this town of his, doing something potentially reckless. Old Midev...small alright. After you’d double checked Simeon’s doctorate claims, you’d searched this town. It did exist, but it took you a while to find it. For the longest time, the only result that would show up were some crackhead conspiracy posts on a mystic sea creature written by someone calling themselves The Sorcerer. There was only a lake in that town, nothing really seaworthy about it. Nothing really note-worthy about it, in fact. From the overhead map view, you could see a school, a library, a park, a gym, a grocery store, a few other scattered businesses--basically the bare minimum--and that was it. There were only about 800 people, and even that was slowly declining as residents moved away. But in that town held the potential of some support, a shelter, some hope, at least until you could get back on your own two feet. 
The train buckled a bit, the speed starting to decline. You picked your head up, eyes heavy as you’d almost begun to nod off. Only now did your heart begin to pound. New people. A new environment. Would you be able to tell people you were basically someone’s charity case? That you were going to be squatting in someone’s empty home till you could sort yourself out? Groaning, you tapped your feet against the floor to get your nerves out. It took about another ten minutes before the train came to a complete stop. The luggage you’d brought with you resided in a single large suitcase in the proper compartment. Everything else you owned you had boxed up and placed in a storage unit in your old city. 
If the station you stepped out onto was a testament to what the town was like, you could see that it truly lived up to the name Old Midev. The train had pulled next to the only station in town. It almost seemed as if the station itself was built before the rails, and they conveniently converted it into a station as an afterthought. It looked more like a barn than anything. A little red wooden building with rusty red walls and white trim that had begun to chip and grey with time. The platform was decorated with log benches, carved animal statues, and barrels that had been cut in half to serve as flower planters. There was a nice little overhead to keep people--and you--from standing out in open weather. Even though it was still raining, it had lessened to a light sprinkle. As you tried to move, your luggage quickly got snagged on a nail sticking out from the creaking floorboards underneath you. With a tug, you got it free. The pistons to the train hissed as they prepared to shut the doors behind you. It’s your last chance to turn around. It’ll be hard to get out of this if you stay, you told yourself. And yet you stood your ground, watching the train start to chug away. 
Simeon had given you some insight into a few things before he’d so graciously purchased your ticket for you. One, he told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed. Yes, this town housed his home, and yet his work had him traveling constantly, so there was no one there to look after it. Two, his extra set of keys was in a compartment behind a wall plaque with a proverb on it. And three, a friend of his would be waiting at the station when you arrived to help take you to the house you’d be staying at. Only...you were seemingly the only living soul around. Swiveling your head to observe the area around you, you only further confirmed this. There was no one else here. No one was sitting down, no one was inside the building when you peeked in the windows. Being alone in...such an unfamiliar place...out in the middle of nowhere. Your blood started to run cold. Should you have done more background checks on Simeon? Yes, there was a website and a secretary and Luke and everything...but maybe it had all been staged! Was it all fake? Did you make a mistake? What were you even doing hopping on a train to come all the way out here?! Sure you had joked about dropping your entire life to move to a desolate place and change the way you lived, but you never thought it would be this frightening in the moment!
“Hey.” The monotone voice of someone behind you made you shout. You quickly turned, placing your suitcase in front of you in the event you needed to use it as a shield. You’d brought a self defense keychain with you and hidden it in your sleeve. Up until now, you hadn’t had to use it yet...but you would if you were desperate. There before you, occupying the space you could’ve sworn was empty, was a man; ripped jeans, dark circles under his eyes about as dark as the large sweatshirt he was wearing. Floppy purple hair with frosted ends hovered in front of his vision. He had a chain around his neck, a dirty look across his face, and a strange intense stance. You were dead. You knew it. Somehow you’d been fooled into coming here, and now you were about to be killed. “Are you the person Simeon sent?” 
Oh...was this the friend Simeon had talked about? Your nerves were still on edge, but you found it a little easier to breathe. “Y-yes...are you…” 
“Yeah. He sent me here to pick you up. I’m kinda late, I-” He was interrupted by his own large yawn. “I overslept. But it’s whatever.” Wasn’t it already dipping into the late afternoon? There was still some trepidation inside you, and he must’ve finally noticed your defensive stance. “Oh. Simeon told me to say ‘seraph’...I think it was the word.”  Seraph had been Simeon’s little safety measure to try and ease your anxiety and to prove who to trust. It was such a random little word, you’d doubted anyone could come up with it without being told by Simeon first. Your shoulders loosened a bit. Although, still...not to stereotype...but you found it interesting that a character like Simeon would be friends with someone like...this person before you. He appeared as if he’d torn up his entire wardrobe with a set of knives and yet looked entirely comfortable about it. Like...soft-emo-core. And yet their clashing attire wasn’t what bothered you...it was Simeon’s angelic nature vs...this person’s apathetic attitude. Well, who were you to judge? Simeon just always threw more surprises at you. 
“Yeah. That was the word.” You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. I wouldn’t know left from right here.” 
His blank face managed a little laugh. “Most people don’t. Anyway, come on, my brother has the car running.” He already started walking off, not even bothered to check to make sure you were following. You muttered some curses in your head before dragging your heavy suitcase behind you, trying not to trip on the uneven platform. 
“Your brother?” 
“Yeah, I don’t like driving,” he replied, kicking a few stray rocks as he hopped off the platform and onto an unpaved road. A large four-door red pickup truck was idling a few feet ahead. Through the darkened window, you could see another man--the brother, you pieced together--eating behind the wheel. You grimaced. Getting inside a vehicle with two people you didn’t know was exactly the sort of thing you’d been told not to ever do. The one time your escort actually looked back was the time you’d hesitated. “What,” he smirked. “You think we’re going to murder you or something?” 
You stopped in your tracks. “Maybe! I don’t know you!” Your accusatory tone came out of nowhere. “You still...Simeon told me the name of the person coming to get me. You haven’t told me your name.” 
He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. Even if he’d told you, you weren’t sure you'd fully believe him. The main factor that contributed to some trust was all thanks to the person who rolled down the window of the truck, swallowing another handful of fries. “Belphie! Why didn’t you help them with their suitcase?” The name was right. Simeon had told you the person coming to get you would’ve been called Belphie. Strange name. Much like the password, you doubted anyone would’ve just made up a name like that on the spot. 
“Eh. I didn’t feel like it. It looks heavy,” Belphie admitted. You almost glared at him. What is with this guy?
The other man opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He was wearing a tracksuit. Red jacket and matching crimson pants, both of which had black stripes running vertically up the sides. He was wearing a black shirt underneath, a little bright stain of some sort smudged on his chest, probably some condiment from what he’d been eating. Unlike his brother, he had bright red hair and an expressive face, although his voice shared the same consistent and unwavering deep tone like his sibling. He stepped towards you, almost giving you a heart attack when you realized just how tall and muscular he was. God help any creature that dared to upset him. When he moved his arm in your direction, you felt faint, but then he simply grasped your luggage with one hand and plucked it up from the ground, settling it gently in the bed of the truck. 
He turned on his feet towards you, Belphie slinking away to get into the passenger seat of the car without even offering to help. “You’re MC, right? Simeon told us some about you.” The doctor hadn’t known you for very long, so the ‘some’ must’ve been the whole...rock bottom explanation. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to point behind him. “That’s my twin, Belphie.” Twins? They didn’t exactly strike you as such just on an observational standpoint, but it’s not as if twins were always identical. “Sorry about him. He gets grumpy when he’s tired.”
“It’s okay…” You mustered up a polite grin. 
“You can call me Beel.” Beel opened one of the backdoors to the car, quickly clearing the backseat by shoving old takeout bags into one slightly bigger bag before settling it on one spot on the floor, looking a bit proud of his swift cleaning job. “Hop in, MC. Let’s bring you to Old Midev.” 
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vanillann · 4 years ago
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picture me this (s.r)
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i. ii. iii.
word count: 1.4k
steve rogers x gender neutral!reader
a/n: how do we feel about the new header idea? also i didn’t come up with this idea i’ve seen a few people up here use it!! (i’m just a copycat sorry loves)
steve rogers masterlist
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I ran my hands over my eye, going back to hunch over the computer that sat across from me with stupid taxes and bill on full display. The coffee shop I sat in was fairly quiet and the cup I had ordered had been long gone.
I couldn’t quite focus, or maybe I just didn’t want to deal with the bill that I was trying to even out. Budget was a complex thing for something as simple as a piece of paper we gave value.
I rolled my eyes, decided to do so, people watched for a minute before I went back to the silly bills I definitely should be paying as we speak.
The city below was running with people, but the outside deck of the coffee shop seemed calm compared to it. Only a few people sat at the outside table, one was a small family of three, another and man obviously waiting for someone, and last a person with their hood drawn looking down at some paper with a pencil in his hand. He was the closest to where I sat, yet I couldn’t see his face nor whatever he was doing.
The person who was writing on the paper, slipping in careful to keep his chin down and his eye hidden from the world as he stumbled to the back. Must’ve had to use the bathroom. I looked back to where he sat and smiled when I noticed the wind was starting to pick up the paper.
The person who was writing on the paper, slipping in careful to keep his chin down and his eye hidden from the world as he stumbled to the back. Must’ve had to use the bathroom. I looked back to where he sat and smiled when I noticed the wind was starting to pick up the paper.
The person who was writing on the paper, slipping in careful to keep his chin down and his eye hidden from the world as he stumbled to the back. Must’ve had to use the bathroom. I looked back to where he sat and smiled when I noticed the wind was starting to pick up the paper.
An excuse, just want I needed. I stopped up and walked out the glass door behind the older man. I wasn’t worried about my laptop, nobody seemed in the mdoe to steal and I was a regular so someone would fight for it.
I watched the wind rib the paper from under the little rock that was placed on top, most likely to hold it in place and I reached for it right before it was one with the wind to find another stranger to use as an excuse. I went to place the paper in a safe spot, hoping to don’t read whatever he was writing but there was no word, just a drawing.
It was of the coffee shop but it was slightly blurred, the center focus was a person with a bored expression and one hand holding up their head while the other delicately played with the keyboard of a laptop.
It was me, it was the same me that had been complaining about bills while the stranger drew me, I couldn’t figure if it was in a flattering way or a creepy way.
I heard the sound of the bell again and whipping around, the paper clutched in my grasp. It was the person, head still down and walking to where they sat til their eyes landing on my shoes. Slowly their eyes traced up my body until they found my own, suddenly my throat was dry.
Captain America was sitting in a coffee shop drawing me.
I had seen him on TV a million times, maybe even more, and he looked so much different in person. His eyes were bluer than the TV ever told, almost as if you would skinny drip in them, and his jaw could cut through anything.
His eyes were wide as he recognized the paper and then me, he was slowly putting the piece together.
“I’m so sorry-”
“It’s fine Captain,” I felt like bowing, do people bow when you meet a superhero?
“It was about to fly off and I came to grab it, didn’t know I was grabbing my self portrait,” I held up the paper, as if he didn’t already know, and pointed to the rock that had been pushed from the table from the wind.
“Oh, thank you.”
I awkwardly modded, holding out the paper from him to take. He took it quickly, slipping around me to his seat and I knew it was time to go back, but I really didn’t want to do my budget.
“You’re really good, at drawing I mean.”
He seemed shocked when I kept talking, his chin still low to hide himself from the world but he looked up from the end of his eyelashes, his look delicate as the softest pillow as he looked at me.
“I-uhm- thank you, been drawing a long time,” he nodded to the drawing and I suddenly realized he didn’t want to talk. It seemed I was going to have to go back to my budget.
“Uhm, have a nice day,” I didn’t wait for a response, slipping back into the much warmer coffee shop and let out a shaky breath. I definitely had a distraction, one I slightly regret because now when I’m close to death and the Avengers are saving everyone Mr. America is going to leave me to die.
Okay, calm down (Y/N), you’re being overdramatic. I just need to sit down and do my bills, beside this would make a wonderful party story.
I met Captain America once, he was drawing me in a coffee shop.
Maybe I could even convince people he was in love with me while drunk and talking nonsense. I moved back to the table and smiled when the laptop sat in the same spot as before, the only difference was the dark screen.
I skipped over to the laptop and did my best to not look out the window, acting like I had forgotten the whole incident already but I don’t think I’d ever forget the time a superhero wanted to draw me.
As I typed around on the laptop but my brain couldn’t focus on anything except the pencil lines and how I was the centerfold of the piece of art. How the coffee shop was smudged, like nothing else mattered but me, as I typed away with something I never cared about. It was myself frozen in time, with my eyebrows in a scolding look at my own life typed across the screen.
He had captured me in a way I never thought possible.
Yeah, I was never forgetting this moment.
I eventually finished the bill and taxes, after almost falling asleep and promising myself not to look up when the bell rang. Once I finally looked up from the laptop I realized how late and I was sure my roommate was worried sick for me.
I hurriedly packed my bag, trying to make sure I had everything when I noticed one of the workers who knew me by name approached.
“Pretty boy left ya something,” she held out a folder, a smirk on her lips and I knew she had looked even if she wasn’t supposed to. I set it on the table, opening the folder and my jaw dropped.
It was more drawings of me, all in the same spot and I didn’t even realize I always sat at this table until now. Some I was laughing on the phone, some I was drinking out of a funny mug, some I was reading, one I looked like I was almost sleeping on the table.
One the inside of the folder where word in a gentle handwriting, even prettier than his art.
Hope this doesn’t come off creepy, just thought you deserved to be held in time. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I’ll stop!
Steve Rogers
I probably should have been weirded out, a tall strange man was just sitting around drawing me, but he clearly gave them to me to prove he meant no harm and his words didn’t seem harmful. He just seemed like a nice guy who wanted someone to draw, I just happened to be there. I picked up the drawing from today, flipping in over and pulling a pen out of my bag.
I wrote a short message on the back, leaving my name and number at the bottom and going to the counter once I had everything, including the folder.
“If a pretty boy comes back, give this to him,” I nodded to the paper and the girl simply smiled, nodding and placing it in a safe spot in the cash register.
I ran out the coffee shop, a goofy smile stretched across my face as I clutched my new folder closer to my chest.
I definitely had a party story now, with proof.
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uncertaininnit · 4 years ago
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who wants to read an essay about my relationship with simping/an appreciation(/simping lol) post about Will+Eret and also seperately tommyinnit that was written at 4:22 am and then added to the queue because i love the queue system also fun fact i pronounced the word ‘queue’ as ‘cc-week’ for like an entire year and idk why anyways
lets just jump into it
lol
so. if somebody was to ask me who my favorite mcyt is, i would think about it for a moment and eventually answer with either Wilbur or Eret. and i think that is purely out of simping instinct or whatever the fuck. 
to start, Wilbur; the prettiest man, period. i do not take constructive criticism. he is literally gorgeous and i get so mad at him for putting himself down all the time because he doesnt deserve the shit, especially not from himself. he is 24 years old and has the lowest self-esteem out of anybody i can think of. i want to yell in his face all the time. i want to tell him simps are the same species as him, and they have REASONS to simp. if you keep seeing appreciation posts about yourself (which im sure he does) that means people APPRECIATE YOU and WANT YOU to feel APPRECIATED. 
anyway, back to simping. let’s start from the top. his goddamn hair. it is, it is, and i just took a deep breath, so pretty. maybe it isnt the hair itself, probably, but the way it is done. wavy dark brown hair all floofy in the front. and he is constantly messing with it, which is THE cutest thing. when he is excited, he moves a lot, and his hair moves with him and gets messed up and ahhhcvkvyr moving on.
his face? lets start with his eyes. they are so pretty. i think my opinion on eyes is probably weird, and allow me to explain why. i never ever notice somebodies eye color when talking to them. i just dont even look. so when i am actively paying attention to somebody’s eyes, they are that much more important to me. but idk, i kinda feel like his eyes are one of the biggest factors of his face? like, he looks really pretty whether he is smiling or not, because his face doesn’t ride on his smile.
sidetrack paragraph about george: i think george is that way. he is adorable, but he is only really adorable when he is smiling. if i look up ‘georgenotfound cute’ it will be entirely him smiling, and never any other facial expression because he genuinely looks like the fucking weirdest thing sometimes when making a serious face. back to will.
i dont pay attention to noses because who even cares dude but i’m sure his nose does a good job of supporting his looks as well so good job nose
his SMILE. he doesn’t need to smile, but dude, when he does, it’s like i always used to say (and still would say) in regards to eijiro kirishima. it’s like... sunbeams, like rays of light are in his mouth and escaping when he smiles.i wonder how he keeps a star in there. because his smile literally lights up my heart. and when he tilts his head(basically all the time luckily)? so goddamn pretty. pretty man. pretty. 
that brings us to his neck, which is- no, kidding, but i do want to talk about his vocal chords! firstly his speaking voice, which i guess as an american it hits different for me because of the accent. but- i dont think i can put it into words. but the way he puts thoughts into words-(lol) idk, his voice is just really sweet. and his SINGING VOICE, here we go.
so he sings, duh. and i- holy fuck. he just sounds good, you know? he is a good singer. i want to put my emotions simply this time. he sings well, and he sounds good. a pretty voice for a pretty man. i cant even try to elaborate.
basically the only other thing of my concern is his fucking yellow sweater? or jumper or whatever the fuck? and his beanie? on his body? damn. i am genuinely attached to that sweater. it just looks good, ok? it does. 
oh yeah, and he’s hella fucking tall. 6′5? are you kidding? you couldn’t have at least been short so we could make fun of you?
oh yeah and his laugh-
it is now 4:53 am and a bitch is tired but i have an entire fucking train of thoughts and they must be somewhere before they slip away
the next part- Eret. i adore Eret. so incredibly much. and let me start this by saying i’m going to consistantly call him a he, because he doesn’t care and so that makes it easier for me. ok? ok.
he is the opposite of Wilbur in this one regard, confidence. and self-esteem. eret loves himself. that attitude spreads. look, not only is he like the #1 bicon in the world as far as i’m concerned, but he also actively fucks gender roles any day. strawberry dress pog? strawberry dress pog.
but seriously, he rocked the strawberry dress. and the suit, though i missed that stream. he rocks his crown, his sunglasses, just anything he puts on. and don’t get me started on the BOOTS
(im started on the boots) so firstly the heel boots, the first ones he got. when i first saw clips, my only thought was something like ‘woah.’ or maybe ‘damn.’ at that point i didn’t know much about him, just that he looked STELLAR in those boots (and the betrayal and shit yknow) and the PLATFORMS DUDE
the platforms are the same but moar tall, which is incredible. oh and now back to strawberry dress- have you seen him twirl? the twirl? hello? have you seen it? you must. 
also i havent even talked about HIM yet. hove you seen that picture of him with a bird on his shoulder? he is facing the bird, i think looking at it, with a wide smile across his face. and it is so pretty. he has the prettiest smile. 
also today i was looking for flour at the store place and a clip of him was playing in my mind- he was doing like an announcer voice, like in every superhero movie trailer- and he was just coming up with something to say, and what he ened up saying was ‘in a world... where.... cookies.... are made of pringles’ and OMFG its making me laugh even now. like of absolutely anything, that was the example he made. just thinking about it is making me smile. 
speaking of, have you heard his voice? his normal voice is really really deep anyways, but he has crazy range- he can effortlessly(i originally wrote effortly and when i noticed i laughed because i am so fucking tired bfv9wuocl) go from like an elmo impression (and a good one) to a just REALLY low voice, lower than his normal low voice. 
AND HIS SINGING VOICE! he doesn’t like actually make music like wilbur but on that one stream where he did kareoke (how the fuck is it spelled) with fundy and his voice is SO LIKE its deep and its just pretty and i never want to hear normal sweater weather ever again, just him singing it.
i think this is where i’m done with eret- it is 5:18 now, and a BITCH IS TIRED but i need to finish this while i’m still feeling this wayy or i’ll never finish it, i know this from experience.
and now it’s tommy time
the og reason i decided to make this an actual post . but i had to explain the simping thing before i got into my thoughts about tommy. 
but let me start this with just saying yes, i love him. he is a big man and i want him to be happy. which is the topic for today’s discussion, AHEM. 
so tommyinnit, right? he is 16, which is why i do NOT simp.i dont care that im also a minor, i wouldn’t do anything to make him feel uncomfortable, ever. in any world. never. because look- i dont know how to put it, but tommy is SIXTEEN. still young and impressionable and all that junk. and he is a fairly fucking famous twitch streamer. he does that almost daily.
what i’m saying is i dont want him to get hurt. him, and tubbo too. they are a part of the world, part of the public, all the time. don’t you think that is stressful? do you guys remember his haircut stream? on the day of his haircut? and chat was making fun of him for it, and wilbur was making fun of him for it. that is how i express affection, with my real friends as well. playful bullying. but at some point while Will was teasing him, he says something along the lines of ‘yeah, the big man hasn’t been having too great a day’ or something like that, and dude, my heart dropped.
a. he had mentioned earlier that he didn’t want to stream the day of his haircut because hair is always weird that first day, but since he hadn’t streamed in a good bit he felt obliged to. i dont really.. idk, i dont really like that. i dont want him to have to put himself in uncomfortable situations because he feels like he needs to for us. i don’t think that is healthy.
and b. chat and wilbur were bullying him. good-naturedly, but still, when he mentioned he had been having a bad day, the chat turned around and instantly started yelling shit like ‘AHHHH SORRY BIG MAN YOUR HAIR IS FINE’ and when Wilbur kept teasing him (you fucking beautiful bully man fuck off) yelling stuff like ‘WILBUR QUIT WE ARE H U R T I N G HIM’ and ‘WILL STFU HES HAVING A BAD DAY’ so im glad we all want him to feel ok
but still, it cannot be healthy. when i first got into MCYT, i though tommy was fucking loud and annoying. and he is! he is. but that is a big part of why i like him so much. and everyone jokes about him being a child, because he is, but i choose to not say stuff like that in chat just because i want him to be happy. those jokes are fun, but i want him to be happy. and he is happier when not being called a child.
im not attacking you, do whatever the fuck you want. i dont know why i feel the need to protect him or whatever, if he read this he would probably think i was hella creepy. i just- listen, i just want him to be happy. i just want him to smile and laugh. i sound SO GODDAMN CREEPY but- as ive said- i just want him to be happy. 
is this literally just what having a comfort streamer is? am i not crazy? does everyone experience this? and can we talk about tommy’s playlist it’s literally so sweet and bubbly compared to his personality and i love that. and the song he always plays at the start of stream and always like buzzes along to? that moment in time is my very favorite.
it is 5:44-
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thanksjro · 4 years ago
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Dark Cybertron Chapter 1: Welcome to Comic Event Hell
You know what readers love? When the stories they’ve gotten invested in over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.
And you know what writers love? When the story they’ve been crafting over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.
Did I say love?
Because I didn’t mean it.
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“Dark Cybertron” was penned by John Barber and James Roberts, with collaboration with comic writer and artist Phil Jimenez, and was published from early November, 2013 to late March, 2014. Atilio Rojo, James Raiz, and Livio Ramondelli did the art, each responsible for scenes in specific locations, with Robert Gill filling in as needed. Alex Milne, Andrew Griffith, and Brendan Cahill would also contribute pencils to the first issue and the back half of the series. It was a celebration of the 30th anniversary of the franchise, and the second birthday of Phase Two... which went on for over four months, but never mind that!
Both "Dark Cybertron” and its preliminary materials were made to go alongside the Transformers: Generations toy-line, each issue being included as a toy pack-in with whatever character was being featured… or, at least, that was the plan. Sometimes it didn’t work out. Regardless, this storyline was created to sell toys directly, as opposed to the MTMTE/RID series being made to sell toys more through the power of suggestion. It’s a small distinction, but important, because it will help explain any lack of soul one may perceive while they read “Dark Cybertron”.
“But Hannz!” you cry out, reaching to grab me by the throat and shake me like a rag doll, because to you I’m merely a faceless voice on the internet. “Surely by calling this specific storyline soulless, you’re completely ignoring the very nature of this franchise that you’re almost uncomfortably invested in!”
To which I’ll say this: look, I’m pretty realistic about where my giant space robots came from; Transformers as a franchise would not exist the way it does without Ronald Reagan introducing the Free Market to literal children and fucking up how we interact with media for the rest of time. There is no ethical consumption under capitalism, and that rings especially true when I’ve got a Spinister on my bookshelf staring me down as I write this, that was likely made out of plastics which either involved blood oil or unethical labor practices, if not both.
However!
The choices of a company to have their comic license holders to cook up an entire plot that derails what they’ve already got planned out for toy tie-in comics is a completely different animal than what IDW had had going on up to this point. Phase Two had been about exploring different ideas that hadn’t been able to be explored during the war, and seeing what happens when you take away a third of the logline for Transformers G1 as a whole. Being a part of a brand of toys was almost inconsequential to how the stories were being told; even the Spotlights, which were also toy tie-in comics, had plenty of charm to them, if only because there weren’t quite as many constraints placed on the writers, and they were stand-alone issues.
Of course, being tie-in comics isn’t the only reason that “Dark Cybertron” is a bit of a slog, considering everything IDW itself was trying to get done within this storyline, but we’ll cover the publishing company’s/Simon Furman’s/Transformers’ tumultuous relationship with the concept of gender identity and expression later on, when it becomes relevant to the story proper. This point also ties into the interesting origin of Windblade, who we’ll meet in a few issues, and what happens when you let your fanbase have a taste of power and forget that people might like to see themselves represented in the media they consume.
“Dark Cybertron” is what ended up making me stop reading MTMTE the first time I tried it in 2015. A big part of it was because it forced the reader to need so much information from RID and even events prior to Phase Two, it wasn’t very fun to try to parse what was going on, on top of the writing beginning to flag because of obvious constraints to what Barber and Roberts could actually do, both within their deadlines and the rules put in place by their higher ups for the event.
 “Dark Cybertron” is the result of the sort of executive meddling that kills reader enjoyment by requiring writers to cram their two worlds together as quickly as possible, without the option to go for nuance because there simply isn’t time. The reason we have four separate artists for the front half of this story is because Milne and Griffith didn’t have time to draw both their current workload and “Dark Cybertron” at the same time... but sales probably went up due to the nature of how the story was published, so I’m sure they didn’t really see a problem with it.
That’s a general “they”, not a Milne and Griffith “they”.
In short, we’ve got license contract obligations, fan-poll obligations, and gender stuff fighting for space within the next 12 issues, which will be published in the span of roughly four months. Things are probably going to be a little bloated and sloppy.
Regardless of any of these points, this is what we’ve got. It’s not like it’s all bad- “Dark Cybertron” has the benefit of being written by two people who had been working closely before it had even been conceptualized. Barber was the senior editor for MTMTE, and IDW as a whole until he left in 2016. It also isn’t a proper crossover- y’know, where two completely separate titles get mashed together for a bit. MTMTE and RID exist in the same universe, just have their own things going on, so a decent amount of things still carry over without you needing to have read every single thing in both. The writing, while not quite up to par with pieces that had more creative freedom and breathing room between scenes, is still recognizable as being Barber and Roberts’. Their voices are still here, they’re just strained under the weight of everything that has to be said inside of 12 issues.
With all THAT out of the way, let’s dive in to Dark Dawn: Dark Cybertron Chapter 1.
We get a quick rundown of the most basic information you’ll need for this entire story to make sense, as we reintroduce the fact that Shockwave is an ecoterrorist with more agendas than a daily planner factory on meth, and also that he grows magic crystals. I don’t care what he says, the Ores are fucking space-magic. If you don’t want to read through all of RID for everything else, please see Robots in Disguise (2012), #1-22- A Recap, For Reference Purposes.  We also get a quick rundown of the Lost Lighters’ deal, as Swerve potentially has a meta-episode.
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Be careful what you fucking wish for, bucko.
Our story proper starts with a flashback to the shittiest road trip Cyclonus ever went on, as the Ark 1 finds itself at the edge of a mysterious portal. This is likely why he wasn’t super thrilled when the portal to Luna 1 showed up- portals are probably a touchy subject for him.
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Jhiaxus doesn’t know what this portal is- surely this means that science has failed us, and it’s time to call in the religious crowd to try and suss out what’s going on here.
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It’s moments like this that make me wonder what exactly happened in the Dead Universe that made Cyclonus’ cheek meat just pack up and leave.
Now, we know that Cyclonus is correct here, because we as readers have more knowledge than the characters at this point, but Jhiaxus tries to write off this theory as hogwash, because he is a man of rationality and science. This is a slight removal from his character in the present, whose most notable traits seem to be a lack of ethics and screaming.
Everyone here seems to be slightly different from their current iterations, actually; Galvatron doesn’t say a word as he steps between Jhiaxus and Cyclonus, only using his body to communicate that the scientist might want to back off. Cyclonus himself is certainly the wordiest we’ve ever seen him to be, droning on through his actual thought process before he comes to a conclusion on what exactly they’ve found. Compare this to the Cyclonus of today, who only deigns to grace everyone with his voice if they outright threaten him, have something he wants, or are Tailgate. If he were to ever pull this verbal meandering on board the Lost Light, people would probably assume he’s having a stroke.
Nova Prime- you remember him, don’t you?- gives not a fuck about the Dead Universe, only what it means for him personally. And what it means for him is more locations to subjugate, because he is cartoonishly evil. His character is the least removed from his present-day iteration out of everyone. He tells the crew they’ll be getting a little closer, only for the portal to do the work for them, by way of dark energy tentacles.
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Wow, the pilot for the Ark 1 really is just straight-up named Butt, isn’t he? And what the fuck is that face you’re making, Cyclonus? Are you- oh my god, are you emoting? Oh my god, he’s emoting.
As the Ark 1 is pulled to its doom, Jhiaxus makes a quick phone call to Shockwave to tell him he’s his favorite, and to keep up the good work.
In the present, Shockwave reflects on just how friggin’ long this whole ordeal has taken. Fortunately, Waspinator and the Titan are almost here, and he can hardly wait.
Not, uh, that he’s got emotions or anything. It’s been established that he doesn’t have those anymore. Is impatience an emotion? Does that count?
Shockwave seems like he’d be really frustrating to write for.
Anyway, the Titan shows up, the Ore inside him and the Ore in the underground Crystal City combine, and the Titan starts screaming because everything hurts. Shockwave’s about as thrilled as he can be about the situation, given his lack of emotions.
Above Crystal City, we finally get back to that nonsense about the early sunrise, as someone- maybe Starscream, given the color of the narration box- waxes poetic on the planet of Cybertron, wartorn and wild in its rebirth, ruled by paranoia that has nothing to bounce off of, and so creates its own walls.
Then we get a detailed shot of Rattrap’s mug, and the moment is broken.
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Rattrap’s character is a lot of fun in everything he gets tossed into, but you’re a goddamn liar if you think he’s pretty to look at. You are lying to yourself, and I won’t apologize for saying it.
Starscream walks out of his room in his hot new body, feeling fine and ready to take on the world. We’ll check in on him later in the day to see how that positive mentality is working out for him.
So, the sun hasn’t moved, and it’s way too early for the sun to even be up right now. That’s weird. Because I guess he didn’t know how the sun works, Starscream’s only just realized that this is perhaps a problem. He does some computer work and realizes that this is indeed a very bad thing, and asks that Rattrap call the Autobots. Not the ones who fucked off into the wilderness, the other ones. The gay, space ones.
Up in space, Orion Pax and his pals have found themselves in dire straits, the collapsing Gorlam Prime sucking their ship back down as the Death Ore consumes everything.
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That’s not how engines work! And I think it really says something about the “Prelude” issues that I completely forgot why Wheelie was down an arm for a solid five seconds.
It turns out that Orion was the narrator the entire time, which I should have known- since when is the once and future Optimus Prime not the primary voice in any media he appears in?
It’s looking rough for the fellas, but luckily we’ve got to get the plot rolling, so the Lost Light VZZZZTs into existence and picks up the Skyroller to place it gently into its belly.
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Orion isn’t exactly jazzed about the fact that Rodimus didn’t listen to what he told him, not even bothering to thank the guy for saving his life. I say y’all keep going on your Thunderclash Quest and leave this ungrateful loser behind. No space yachting for you, Orion.
The rest of the Pax Posse enter the Lost Light proper, and Hardhead reveals that he nearly joined the Quest, before he saw who all would be coming with, while Garnak has a tearful reunion with Rodimus. The fact that he’s calling him Sir- which I don’t recall him doing in Transformers (2009), at least not in a way that seems reminiscent of an unfortunate Antebellum Period Romance- feels rather weird, but I’m glad someone’s fucking happy to see Rodimus at least. Ultra Magnus asks Orion if he’ll be assuming command of the vessel, as Rodimus tries not to look horrified by the thought alone, but fortunately Orion’s not going to pull his “I’m Optimus Prime and I Can Do What I Want” Card just yet.
Smash cut to the bridge, as Rodimus tries to make himself sound competent, when Starscream calls. Orion doesn’t like that Starscream has their number, Perceptor almost reveals the fact that this ship technically doesn’t belong to a faction, likely due to being purchased after the war, and Cyclonus gets brought in for his professional opinion.
As it turns out, that early sunrise isn’t a sunrise at all, but a portal to the Dead Universe. This is a problem, because the Dead Universe really sucks, and you don’t want to go there, especially if you enjoy being alive. Orion seems more concerned about the fact that Starscream is ruling the planet, and Bumblebee is nowhere to be found.
Speaking of Bumblebee, he and all his camp buddies are psyching themselves up for a confrontation.
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Swoop, please, this is hardly the time for crudeness.
The Dinobots, sick of Bumblebee’s dithering about, decide they’re going to fight the fucking sun and gear up. Prowl, though generally disliking their brand of problem-solving, does share his begrudging respect of their can-do attitude.
Their can-do attitude over fighting the fucking sun.
Then an earthquake happens and the ground rips open to reveal that Titan that Waspinator showed up with.
Shockwave takes over the narration at this point, and we get artsy, as we see events that haven’t transpired yet over musings on the nature of... time? Maybe? It would be in line with Roberts’ go-to topics, but honestly the whole thing’s kind of vague so I couldn’t give you a solid answer. Shockwave gets awfully introspective for a guy who shouldn’t care, I know that much. The point is, he is inevitable and is super good at logic and science.
Also, Nova Prime and Galvatron are back, which is cool, I guess. Not sure where Galvatron had gotten to exactly after the events of “Chaos”, but he’s back now, so it doesn’t matter too terribly much. Shockwave serves them, which we’ll probably get an explanation for at some point.
God, you can practically taste the desperation to pin all these plot points together before the entire thing implodes on itself.
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radishaur · 5 years ago
Note
If the zuko requests are still open, may I request hcs or a short story (whatever you prefer) of zuko x artist reader where he first joins the gang and the reader wants to show support to him but they’re way too shy and awkward so they just secretly give him drawings to cheer him up or offer advice?? Maybe he has a crush on them but thinks they too don’t trust him yet? I just had this general idea. You could totally change stuff up if you’d like :)
“Sorry! I was the person who just asked the artist reader! I didn’t put a gender but maybe female? The reader could be a nonbender if that’s fine? Sorry about that :)”
Absolutely! I love the artist trope so much. Some of my favorite Zuko fics have had the reader as an artist. I hope I meet your expectations! I may have gotten carried away but oops. I just love this trope.
- Zoe
•••
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Drawings (Zuko x Reader)
Warnings: None
Genre: Fluff
Part: 1/1
Summary: See Request
•••
“Hello, Zuko here.”
As soon as we heard his voice, everybody sprung into action. Well, everybody except me. Toph, Katara, and Aang got into bending positions and Sokka prepared to throw his boomerang. I stood slightly off to the side in shock.
He looked different than the last time I had seen him. It seemed to be a pattern. Each time I saw him after a while, he always had a new hairstyle and seemed more....himself. He seemed like a completely different person than the angry ponytail adorning teenager that had invaded the Northern Water Tribe.
That was the first time I had seen him. I unknowingly helped him by saving him from drowning. I had pulled him out from under the ice in a drain pipe on the day of the siege. He wasn’t wearing Fire Nation clothing then, so I didn’t know better until I saw him fighting Katara and capturing Aang. I felt so bad about almost dooming the world to eternal hell that I left the tribe to join them on their adventures.
The next time I saw him was when his Uncle was hit and then later in Ba Sing Se. I was shocked to see him serving tea in the lower ring of an Earth Kingdom town, but I didn’t rat him out. Instead, I took to sketching him. I would sit outside the shop and look in through the windows. His hair was longer now and I couldn’t deny how handsome he was. Without the ponytail I had a hard time denying it.
And now, as he stood here in the temple, I saw the next version of him. The Zuko with longer hair and a deeply rooted regret. He was shy and awkward, much like he had been in Ba Sing Se, but this time he wasn’t confused. He didn’t look like he was fighting any inner battles anymore. He just looked hopeful. Hopeful that he could change the path he chose for himself.
It wasn’t until I heard him say my name that I realized I hadn’t been listening.
“You saved my life in the Northern Water Tribe. And you didn’t rat me out in Ba Sing Se when you found out I was there. You had to have seen something good in me,” he pleaded.
“You knew he was there?! And you didn’t say anything?!” Katara yelled angrily, sending a glare in my direction.
I hung my head in guilt before looking back up at Zuko. My heart ached seeing the expression he wore, but I knew I was already in hot water.
“I’m sorry Zuko. If they don’t trust you then neither do I,” I said before turning and walking away.
I didn’t want to stay. I knew exactly what would happen if I did. I wouldn’t be able to watch him walk away without insisting they were wrong about him. My mother used to say my unwavering trust in people was both a blessing and a curse. I see now that she was right.
Katara stayed angry at me for the rest of the day. I didn’t blame her. Even I still felt guilty that I had kept it a secret after he betrayed us. Although I guess you can’t really betray a side you were never on. Nevertheless it still stung.
Just as I had come to terms with the fact that Zuko would never be a part of the team, he managed to save us from Combustion Man. Aang agreed to have Zuko as his teacher after the group agreed he could stay. Secretly, I was glad they had changed their minds. I knew that it would take a long time for them to get used to him being around though, so I decided to try and do something small to make him feel less alone.
After everybody went to sleep, I decided to draw him a picture of his Uncle. I had seen him frequently when I was outside the tea shop. My memory was a little bit rough on the details but I hoped that he would look similar enough. I ripped the paper out of my sketchbook and slipped it under his door.
The next morning, he seemed to be a little bit brighter which made me smile. After that it ended up becoming routine. Everybody would go to sleep and I would slip him another drawing. Sometimes I would shove them under his door, sometimes I would stuff it into his bag of stuff, and sometimes I would leave it somewhere I knew he would find it. Each time, he would always look a little happier afterwards.
It wasn’t until we were on Ember Island that my little secret became not so secret.
I had never told any of the gang that I could draw. I mean it seemed like such a useless talent compared to their bending. Even Sokka knew how to fight with a sword. When it came to fighting I was a complete waste. I couldn’t bend and I had never learned how to defend myself. The Northern Water Tribe had a strict rule about women learning how to fight: they didn’t.
It wasn’t until we were sitting out around a campfire that the fact I could draw was even discussed. Everybody had been going around the circle and sharing a secret. When it got to me, I shrugged it off.
“I don’t really have any secrets. I’m pretty boring,” I said.
“That’s such a lie! I know you have at least one secret,” Sokka said, a cheeky grin on his face.
“W-What?” I asked, my heart racing slightly.
“I’ve seen your sketchbook. You’re an amazing artist,” he continued, acting all casual.
“Sokka!” I exclaimed, a blush now breaking out across my face.
“You can draw?” Zuko asked in shock.
He seemed to be connecting the dots in his head and I wanted nothing more than to dig myself into the ground and disappear. I just hoped they didn’t-
“I wanna see it!” Aang said gleefully.
I just hoped they didn’t ask to see it.
“I really don’t want to-“ I began to reply before Katara cut me off.
“I bet it’s in her stuff!” she called out before shooting up and going to grab my stuff off of Appa.
I felt my heart drop into my stomach.
“No!” I yelled out, running after her.
If they looked at it I would die on the spot. Not only would Zuko realize that I was the one giving him drawings, but they would all see the million sketches I had of him as well. Oh boy, there were a lot. Technically I had sketched all of them, but Zuko took up about half the sketchbook. It would be mortifying for them to figure out I had a massive crush on him.
“I found it!” Katara said as she held the sketchbook in her hands.
“Give me that,” I said, snatching the book out of her hands before holding it tightly to my chest.
“Oh, come onnnnn,” Sokka begged, coming closer to try and grab it from me.
I hastily avoided him and continued clutching the sketchbook for dear life.
“Guys, maybe we should leave it,” Zuko said, clearly not wanting to escalate the situation.
Little did he know why I was actually protecting this sketchbook so heavily. He probably thought it was just because I didn’t want them to see my art. Which, technically I didn’t, but not because I thought it was bad. I gulped as Sokka began cornering me.
“Y/N please,” Aang pleaded, standing next to Sokka, “We promise not to judge! We just wanna see!”
“I really don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I responded, shifting the book behind me.
I gasped when I felt the book get ripped from my grasp. I turned around to see Katara, smiling victoriously as she brought the book out by the campfire. Sokka and Aang ran over to her.
I dragged my hands down my face. I’m sure it was about as red as a tomato at this point. Is this what it felt like to die? I watched them from my position a few feet away, too scared to move.
“Hey, these are amazing!” Aang said.
I couldn’t help but catch Zuko’s gaze. The recognition in his eyes made it clear he knew I was the one slipping him drawings. I felt my face burn in embarrassment. And this wasn’t even the worst part.
I stayed rooted to the ground as the gang flipped through the pages. The beginning of the sketchbook was just drawings of the Northern Water Tribe. Then, it morphed into drawings of all of the gang minus Toph. Not that she could even see. She was still sitting on the log bench, not invested in the situation at all.
The next pages had some sketches of Zuko with his ponytail, mixed with some sketches of the oasis. They were still just complimenting the drawings, oblivious to the horror the next few pages would cause me. Eventually, it moved into drawings of our travels across the Earth Kingdom and Toph began to appear.
After that was the pages I was dreading. The first few drawings were of Ba Sing Se. Innocent drawings of beautiful buildings and random citizens. But then it turned into Zuko. Pages upon pages of Zuko and his Uncle in the tea shop. They all got quiet as they continued flipping. Mixed in with Zuko and his Uncle were some few other sketches, but it was clear that Zuko had become the focus of the sketches.
I couldn’t bear to look at them. I could only imagine their expressions. If they hadn’t figured out by now why Zuko was the center of my drawings, they would as they kept going.
The next sketches were of some of the Fire Nation villages we had stayed in. But after that, there Zuko was again. And this time they would definitely know. Some of my sketches were accompanied by scrawled notes on the side. A random look how cute he is or he looked so hot training with Aang today scribbled next to the sketches. The silence was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
“Y/N, I-“ Sokka started, clearly feeling guilty for bringing up my secret talent now.
“Don’t” I hissed, finally sending a glare his way.
I hadn’t even realized I was crying until I felt the taste of salt brush my lips. I wiped my tears angrily as they all sat there silently.
“Y/N-“ he tried again.
“I said don’t!” I screamed before storming off to my room.
I slammed the door behind me and made sure to lock it before I slide to the floor. I held a hand to my mouth to muffle the sobs that were now escaping me. This was my worst nightmare. How had everything gone to shit so fast.
•••
Y/N had run off and I was stuck to my seat. I couldn’t stop looking at her sketches. They way she drew me felt like I was looking in the mirror. It was like watching my transformation as a person with my own two eyes.
“Guys, we really messed up,” Sokka said, still feeling guilty for instigating the situation.
“I had no idea....I just thought she was self conscious of her talent,” Katara said quietly.
“What do we do?” Aang asked.
“You’re the Avatar! You’re supposed to know how to solve this,” Sokka exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.
I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t even sure I could hear them. I flipped the next few pages and my thoughts were confirmed when I saw that there were a few pages ripped out of the back. I pulled one of her drawings out of my pocket and unfolded it, placed the ripped edge into the book. It was a perfect match.
“Zuko, what are you doing? You shouldn’t rip pages out of her book,” Katara scolded, reaching down to snatch the book away from me.
“I didn’t. She’s been giving me drawings. Look,” I explained, pulling out another of her drawings from my pocket, “Ever since I joined you guys at the temple I’ve been getting drawings. I didn’t know who it was, but....”
I handed the drawings over to them. One of them was of my Uncle. Another one was of my duel swords. Another of a tiny dragon. They ranged from simple tiny sketches to full blown detailed drawings.
As they looked them over, I couldn’t help but let my fingers trace a drawing of me in her book. I was smiling and looking off into the distance at something. Under it, in her neat scribbled handwriting was written: the first time he’s smiled :).
“I can’t believe she likes me,” I whispered.
I didn’t expect them to hear me, but they all stopped. I blushed slightly when I noticed them all looking at me. Katara looked furious.
“Listen here. You don’t have to like her back, but don’t you dare say anything to her that will break her heart,” she threatened, her eyes glaring into me.
“N-No! I......like her back.....actually,” I admitted, looking back at the sketches in her book.
I saw the three of them look at Toph, who had been sitting silently on the log the entire time.
“He’s not lying,” she said.
It was after a few moments of silence that I finally spoke again.
“I think I should go talk to her,” I suggested, standing up with her sketchbook in hand.
“Good luck,” Aang said, giving me an assuring smile as I walked inside.
I didn’t know what I was going to say. I didn’t know where to even start. There were a millions things I could say to her and none of them would be good enough. Instead, I found myself standing outside of her door in silence.
I took a deep breath and knocked. I could hear shuffling inside the room. I got no response.
“Y/N it’s me. Please let me in,” I begged, placing my palm against the door.
I was about to turn and walk away when I finally heard footsteps inside. I let my hand fall back down to my side as the door creaked open. Y/N stood to the side of the door without looking at me and motioned for me to come in. I did and she closed the door behind me.
“I’m sorry.” “Thank you.”
“Oh, ummmm. You first,” she mumbled.
“I wanted to say thank you. For the drawings. They made my day every time I got one,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck as I blushed.
“O-Oh. Uh....yea. You just looked so....sad, I guess. I thought maybe it would make you feel more comfortable around us,” she mumbled, still refusing to look at me.
I chuckled slightly and crossed my arms, looking down at my feet.
“Well it worked,” I said, smiling at the floor.
She shuffled across from me. I forced myself to look up at her and caught her gaze. She had tears brimming over her eyes and her face was red from embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry. I know I probably seem like a total creep right now. I know this can never happen. I just.....I don’t know. I tried so hard not to like you but I -“ she started rambling and I couldn’t stop myself anymore.
I pulled her face up to look at me and smashed my lips onto hers. It took her a moment of shock to register what was happening, but as soon as she did she was kissing me back immediately. I finally pulled apart and wrapped my arms around her in a hug.
“You’re amazing. You’re so special and so talented and too good for me. But I like you too. I like you so so much. I never said anything because I thought you hated me,” I admitted, laughing through the tears that started falling down my face.
“You thought I hated you? How could I ever hate you?” she asked, stepping back to look at me.
“Because I went home with Azula and I tried capturing the Avatar for months and I chased you across the world and I’ve made your lives miserable for so long,” I exclaimed, still in disbelief that she actually liked me back.
“Well, I don’t hate you. At all. You’ve proven that you’ve changed and that’s all that matters to me. Besides, you never actually physically hurt any of us, unlike Azula,” she joked, laughing slightly.
I pulled her into a hug once more and buried my head into her neck. I had never been happier than right now in this moment. I promised myself at that very moment that I would do everything I could to become the man she saw me as. To become the man she deserved.
To be the man in her drawings.
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