flxffyclvuds

[flxffyclvuds]

What murdaaaaaaa

"He's just a baby" Honey, he just killed a thousand of people and he's wanted for murder and a bunch of other crimes

[flxffyclvuds]

The Russian heartthrob.

Dick Grayson x Russian male reader

summary: everyone wants you. but you want him.

The cameras flashed like lightning, capturing every angle of your face. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, smoldering eyes that made men and women alike forget how to breathe. You didn’t even have to try. Modeling agencies practically fought each other for the privilege of representing you.

Gotham had never seen anything like you.

In less than a month since stepping off the plane from Moscow, you were on the cover of every fashion magazine from Gotham Vogue to Wayne Style Weekly. Dubbed "The Russian Heartthrob," you were already infamous for unintentionally turning straight men into questioning disasters.

People fall at your feet. They fumbled their words. They sent you drinks, gifts, indecent proposals, and love confessions written in lipstick on luxury cars. You had it all — fame, beauty, money, and attention. And yet… Your heart didn't skip for flashing cameras. It didn't flutter for rich businessmen or sultry models. It only pounded when you saw him.

Dick Grayson.

You met him at a Wayne Gala, dressed in black, hair effortlessly tousled, a soft smile that could melt steel. He wasn’t fazed by your looks — not like everyone else. He shook your hand like a normal person. He laughed at your sarcasm, and when he looked at you, it felt like he saw you, not just the jawline or the smirk. That night, while models whispered about stealing you away, your eyes kept drifting toward Bruce Wayne’s son — the man who’d once been Robin, now Nightwing.

He moved like a dancer. Spoke like a prince. Fought like a storm. And you, the man who had the world at his feet, suddenly couldn’t breathe around him.

You smiled at him in the corner of the ballroom and said, your Russian accent thick but smooth:

“You are the only one in this room not looking at me like I am dessert. I think I like you for that.” Dick chuckled, sipping his champagne, blue eyes sparkling. “Then I guess I’m already ahead of the competition.”

You laughed, heart racing. And just like that, you were gone. The Russian Heartthrob — hopelessly in love with the Gotham golden boy.

Absolutely — here’s the next scene, with the gala moment, that accidental viral camera shot, Bruce’s disapproval, and Dick being completely charmed by the reader’s genuine affection.

You never meant to be obvious. But it’s hard not to stare when the person in question looks like Dick Grayson.

The gala was at Wayne Manor — your first real Gotham social event. Paparazzi circled the gates like wolves, but inside the manor? It was glitter and glass, champagne and secrets.

And Dick?

Dick was wearing a fitted navy suit that might as well have been tailored by angels. He laughed with someone across the room, and you — completely unaware of the camera snapping photos — watched him like he hung the moon.

Soft smile. Eyes full of quiet awe. Your pupils were dilated so wide you looked possessed.

The picture made the front page of Gotham Now the next morning:

“Russian Heartthrob Falls for Wayne Heir? 👀 Fans Speculate on Secret Gala Crush!”

And there it was — a side-by-side shot. You, gazing at Dick like he was art. Dick, sipping champagne and somehow not noticing how hard he was being adored.

Wayne Manor – That Morning

The newspaper slammed down on the long oak breakfast table.

Bruce looked… not amused.

“He’s a model, Dick. Gotham’s latest celebrity toy. You should keep your distance. Last thing we need is more press drama.”

Dick barely glanced at the photo. He sipped his coffee, hiding a small smile.

“He’s not just a model. He’s actually kinda awkward when people flirt with him. Funny, too. And do you see the way he’s looking at me?”

Bruce’s expression hardened.

“Exactly.”

But Dick just leaned back in his chair, staring at the paper again. That look on your face — wide-eyed, lips parted, like he’d accidentally stolen your heart without trying.

It was pure.

Not lust. Not vanity. Just… genuine affection.

Dick tilted his head, a smirk growing slowly.

“You know, it’s kinda cute. Guy’s got the whole world chasing him, and he’s looking at me like that. Like I’m the only person in the room.”

Bruce sighed heavily, muttering something about “media distractions” and “unwanted attention,” but Dick wasn’t listening anymore. His thumb brushed over the printed photo over your soft gaze. Maybe he should talk to you again. See if that look was real. He already had a feeling it was.

[flxffyclvuds]

Russian heartthrob

dick grayson x male reader

Bruce was clear. "End it, Dick. No more events. No more calls. No more chance of scandal. Gotham is watching."

But Dick Grayson had never been great at following orders — especially when his heart was involved.

He knew it wasn’t love yet. Not fully. But something in your eyes — every time you looked at him like he was made of galaxies — it ignited something deep in him. You were different from everyone else. You didn’t want anything from him except him.

You weren’t interested in his money, his fame, or the Wayne name. You liked Dick. The man. The mess. The real him.

And he couldn’t just walk away from that.

Secret Meetings

It started with chance encounters. Then, subtle invitations.

Late-night walks on Gotham’s quieter rooftops. Black SUV rides where the windows were tinted, and no one knew who was inside.

You'd sneak out from your penthouse in the city, scarf over your mouth, hat low. And Dick would already be there, leaning against a brick wall with that easy smile.

“You came,” he said once, in a whisper, as you approached in the cold.

You smiled softly, heart pounding.

“For you? I would come through snowstorm or fire, Dick Grayson.”

You kissed once — under Gotham’s rain, with the sound of distant thunder behind you. It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t planned.

It was… soft. Unspoken. Just lips and longing.

But Gotham doesn’t keep secrets for long.

The press was relentless. A blurry photo. An insider tip. Rumors that Bruce Wayne’s adopted son had been spotted with the Russian heartthrob — and not just once.

Bruce was furious. Not yelling — worse than that. Cold. Distant.

“You don’t know him. You don’t know what he wants, Dick. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“You think I’d fall for someone that easy?” Dick snapped. “You raised me better than that.”

“I raised you to be smarter,” Bruce said. “To protect the family. Your image. Yourself.”

Dick stormed out, jaw clenched, heart racing.

He was done hiding.

The Goodbye

You hadn’t been seen for two days. Dick tried your number. No answer. He showed up to your modeling agency — gone.

Finally, your agent gave him the truth:

“He flew back to Moscow last night. Something about needing space. About wanting to leave before things got worse.”

Dick’s world stopped.

The next morning, he stood on the Gotham rooftop where you first kissed, your scarf still tucked in his coat pocket. He clutched it like it was all he had left of you.

Somewhere in Moscow...

You stared out a frosted window, the city below blurred by snowfall. Your heart ached.

The tabloids had twisted everything. You couldn’t drag Dick down with you. You weren’t from Gotham — you didn’t belong in that world of masks and legacies.

But in your hands, you still held something close — a photo someone snapped of the two of you walking in the rain, your shoulder brushing his, both of you smiling like idiots.

You whispered his name.

“Дик…”

And wondered if he was thinking of you too.

To be continued...

[flxffyclvuds]

"In Another Life"

Dick Grayson/Nightwing x gn!reader

A villain shows you both visions of a life you could’ve had — peaceful, normal, happy. A dream that the both of you unknowingly long for.

Here it is after trying to find a good way to write this! It took me a while, and I'm soso sorry for that, but it's here now! enjoy :)

The illusion is soft at first. Barely noticeable. Just warmth in your bones, sunlight on your skin, the familiar scent of something baking in the kitchen. Your eyes blink open slowly, adjusting to the amber morning light bleeding through half-drawn curtains. You’re in bed. The sheets are warm. The apartment is quiet.

And Dick is lying beside you, his hair a tangled mess on the pillow, arm slung over your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

You blink again.

He’s smiling. Still half-asleep, still wearing that old Gotham University T-shirt that he claimed he hated but never throws out. His thumb gently brushes the curve of your hip under the blanket as he murmurs, “Don’t get up yet. Just five more minutes.”

The words come out easy. Natural. Like this is a morning you’ve shared a hundred times.

But you know it’s not real.

Your stomach twists.

Still, your body betrays you and leans into him anyway, because the warmth is so inviting and his voice is so soft and for a second—just a second—you let yourself imagine it is real. That this is what life could be like without the mission, without the blood, without the masks. Just Dick and you, tangled up in a life that never asked either of you to be anything but human.

There are photos on the dresser: one of you and him at a beach, another of you holding hands in front of a Christmas tree. In the corner, there’s a little dog bed. You don’t even own a dog. But in this life, apparently, you do. There’s a little note stuck to the fridge that reads “Dinner with the others tonight — don’t forget the wine!”

It’s perfect.

Too perfect.

Your throat tightens as you look back at him.

You want to stay in this world. You want to believe it could be yours.

But then the edges start to burn.

Literally.

The sunlight fades. The apartment peels away like paper catching fire. Your hands are still reaching for Dick when the glass shatters and you hit the warehouse floor, gasping, body shaking from the psychic whiplash.

Reality returns like a punch to the gut.

Dick is already up, fist drenched in blood as he knocks the villain who did this to the ground. He doesn’t stop hitting until Connor grabs his shoulder and pulls him back. His face is pale, eyes wide, but unreadable.

You can’t tell if he’s furious or just lost.

You find him on the roof at nearly midnight, sitting on the ledge, legs swinging slightly over the edge like he doesn’t care whether he falls. He’s in jeans and a black hoodie, hair tousled from the wind. His back is to you, but he doesn’t flinch when you open the door. Doesn’t even turn his head.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” he says quietly, his voice scratchy, like he hasn’t spoken in hours.

You walk up beside him, sit down slowly, and match his silence for a long time.

Then you say, gently, “Neither should you.”

He exhales through his nose, like maybe he agrees with you but can’t admit it. His eyes stay on the horizon, the city glowing in the distance—just close enough to touch, just far enough to feel unreachable.

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he says after a minute, voice low, distant. “That… life.”

Your heart thuds. You knew it. This was what he’s been stewing in. Guilt, maybe. Regret. Hope turned to self-hate. It’s written all over him.

“Why not?” you ask quietly.

“Because now you know what you’re missing.”

The words land in your stomach like a rock.

“Dick…”

He finally looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

His expression isn’t angry. It isn’t cold. It’s raw. His eyes are rimmed with red, jaw clenched like he’s holding back everything he’s too ashamed to say out loud.

“I want it,” he confesses, voice cracking on the edges. “I wanted everything I saw in that vision. The sunlight. You. Us. I wanted that so badly it hurt. But I don’t get to have it. I’ve done too much. Lost too many people. Hurt too many others.”

You shake your head, but he keeps going.

“I’ve killed. I’ve watched people die because of me. I carry it with me every second, and if I tried to live that life for real, I’d ruin it. I’d ruin you.”

The silence stretches between you like a chasm, cold and wide.

Then you speak.

“Do you think I don’t know who you are?” you ask, not angrily, but honestly—achingly. “I’ve seen every part of you, Dick. The bruises, the silence, the nights where you can’t sleep without something to hold onto. I’ve held your hand while you stitched up wounds you refused to tell me about. I’ve listened when you cried in your sleep. I’ve seen it all—and I still want you.”

He turns his head, eyes wide with something halfway between disbelief and longing.

“I don’t want some clean, polished version of you,” you continue, voice trembling now. “I want you. Even if you're haunted. Even if you’re scared. Even if you don’t think you’re worthy. You are.”

He doesn't answer. Just looks at you like you’ve cracked something open inside him.

“I’m not asking you to pretend to be someone you’re not,” you whisper. “I’m just asking you to let yourself be loved. Even with the blood on your hands.”

And then, suddenly, he’s reaching for you. Pulling you in.

His arms wrap around you with such desperate force it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. He clings to you like he’s afraid he’ll lose you again, and buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing unevenly, shoulders shaking with everything he’s been holding in for days, months, maybe years.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, again and again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You just hold him tighter. One hand in his hair. The other stroking his back.

“You don’t have to be. You’re safe. We’re both safe.”

And for the first time, he believes you.

A little fluff for the morning after! ;)

You wake up tangled in his arms, on the couch in the main room. Someone must’ve thrown a blanket over you in the night, but you’re too wrapped around each other to care.

He stirs when you move, eyes fluttering open, and for once, he doesn’t look haunted. Just sleepy. And… content.

“Did we… fall asleep here?” he mumbles.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling. “You passed out halfway through telling me about your favorite cereal as a kid.”

A sheepish grin tugs at his lips. “Lucky Charms. Don’t judge me.”

“Too late.”

He brushes hair from your face, eyes soft. “Thank you. For not walking away.”

“Not a chance,” you murmur.

Then, teasingly: “Now go make me coffee, Grayson.”

He groans, stretching. “Pushy.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I really do.”

[flxffyclvuds]

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

[flxffyclvuds]

i love haikyuu i wish volleyball was real :(

[flxffyclvuds]

big, tall boys who look mean and intimidating to everyone they pass by in the halls, but are the softest and sweetest when they’re alone with you. always peppering your face with lingering kisses and eventually falling asleep on your chest as your fingers massage his head.

| SAKUSA, ushijima, IWAIZUMI, matsukawa, kuroo, ARAN, aone, ATSUMU, bokuto, daichi, ASAHI |

[flxffyclvuds]

Oikawa Tooru [Boyfriend hcs]

Ok I think I might have favorites... Sorry its very late!!! Writing block is hitting like a train :')

Being in a relationship isn’t something new to Oikawa Tooru, but what is new to him is having a partner who respects his passion for volleyball and not get mad at him for spending too much time practicing.

So when you said you’re fine with him not walking you home because of practice, he’s flabbergasted. Like sure it’s basic human sense to others but for Oikawa?? It's surreal to him. He’s so used to trying to convince his old lovers to go without him and recompense it with a date.

But you? You just accept it as it is?? Are you even real???

"Oh it’s fine, just be careful on the way back home" you reassure, giving a peck on his cheek before going your merry way.

"wait! Are you sure it's alright with you?" Oikawa quickly stops you without thinking.

Albeit confused, you say with a smile "Why wouldn't I? I already know how much volleyball means to you, so I don't see a reason to stop you from going to practice."

Ever since then, you haven’t left his mind in practice. Which ultimately made Iwaizumi sends him home.

And that's when he realizes something important. You’re a keeper and how cringy he was.

He feels so.. No, much more alive with you than with most people in his life.

The fact you aren't trying to make his passion less important to him, but know when to draw the line is something he’s incredibly grateful for. Because he knows he could get over the top with it some times.

"Oikawa.." You call him out with his last name. Not his given name, his last name.

Shit. he fucked up bigg time didn’t he?

".." sweat has begun to roll down his face as your stare become more prominent and fierce on his back.

"See? I warned you this would happen if you didn't listen to me idiot" Iwaizumi butts in, giving you permission to do as you please.

"IWA!! Don't just stand there!! Help me!!!" Tooru wails for his best friend, who’s betraying him in front of his own very eyes. Tears rolls down his cheeks as he gets dragged away from his teammates and brought to the depths of hell/hj

".. You think he'll live, Maki?"

" you're too hopeful Matsu"

Though despite your.. harsh behaviour whenever he goes against his words, you’re one of the most important people in his life! He hopes that he’ll be an active piece in your life. And the first step Tooru does is.. Preparing matching bentos !!! He’ll slide in some milk bread for you<3 if he’s feeling generous that is

Taglist: @wilczachannn @aphroditesgarden @soobswvrld

[flxffyclvuds]

Ahsvaha- this is so- too sweet bro-

<33333

・❥・IN CLASSROOM 143

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Aether, Albedo, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: what is it like sitting next to them in class?

♡ — Content: fluff, high school AU, modern AU

♡ — A/N: classes were just better when I sat next to silly people. That's probably where I got the inspiration for this from. Have fun reading!

AETHER is the living definition of overcommitment. He's quite popular among your peers, so it's only natural that people are queuing up to ask him to join their clubs. Unfortunately, he's a bit people pleaser, so he can never find the heart to turn them down. From music to volleyball, Aether is involved in almost every extracurricular that the school has to offer, and as his desk partner in history class, you begin to notice the toll it’s taking on him.

It shows in the way he's always late and gasping for air as he sits down beside you. It shows in the way he turns to you and tiredly waves at you each class, offering you a weak smile that makes your heart skip a beat. And it shows in the way his honeyed eyes droop as he fights the temptation of slumber, all while your elderly teacher's droning voice lulls him into a state of tranquility.

He's fighting a losing battle, and he knows it. Each time the boy gives in to his weariness and lays his head on his desk to inevitably drift into the realm of dreams, his expression softens. He looks so content. You can never muster the willpower to wake him up, so instead, you leave him be and diligently take notes to share with him once class ends. After all, even someone as busy as Aether needs to set aside some time to rest in their strenuous schedule. The dark circles under his eyes tell you all you need to know about the amount of sleep he gets.

But there's no way the frigid surface of the table he uses as a makeshift pillow is comfortable, so one day, on an impulsive whim, you offer up your shoulder as a headrest instead. Aether agrees gratefully, and from then on, the sweet boy leans against you as he rests. His warm breath sends tingles down your spine, and his soft hair tickles your skin, and although his proximity makes it harder for you to take notes, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

ALBEDO, the boy who sits next to you in chemistry, is studious yet eccentric. He’s known for achieving nearly perfect grades by utilizing his unrivalled intellect, and he’s always the first person his peers go to for help with their schoolwork despite the fact that he’s rather introverted. As a result of his reserved demeanour, he almost never offers his aid to others first, but you’re the exception. 

Whenever you look as though you’re struggling, Albedo won’t hesitate to assist you. He almost appears a little too excited to talk to you, giving advice anytime he sees an opportunity to. It's gotten to the point where even your classmates have picked up on his eagerness to speak to you, and they have started speculating that the bright boy is infatuated with you. You can't deny the fact that the thought causes your heart to flutter, but you try your best not to get your hopes up, just in case your peers are mistaken.

Besides, Albedo is rather difficult to understand anyway, so it won't come as a shock if it turns out that his intentions are simply being misinterpreted. One example of said contradictory behaviour on Albedo's part has to do with his participation during lessons. Despite his stellar academic performance, he has a habit of zoning out whenever a topic doesn’t interest him. In those instances, you notice that he pulls out a sketchbook and flips to a page half-filled with doodles and begins to meticulously scrawl on the paper. Soon, snowy white is dyed shades of grey and black, undergoing a metamorphosis that transforms it into the finest of portraits. You’re always curious as to what Albedo is drawing, but you’re never able to catch a clear glimpse. Whenever you look his way, he hastily shuts the book, concealing its contents as if he is guilty of a crime.

Unbeknownst to you, the ocean-eyed boy beside you is doodling the one he is infatuated with: you. His feelings ebb into his sketchbook, and his art captures every dip and curve of your face, encapsulating all your radiance with immaculate precision. And yet, he never overlooks your imperfections either — with his pencil acting as a catalyst, he records them in great detail. Albedo is in love with every single aspect of you, even your flaws, which arguably garner more adoration from the boy than any of your other features because they make you distinct — the brightest star in a galaxy full of wonders. Perhaps one day, he will be able to show you his works, but for now, he is more than content with silently admiring you.

Peculiarity is a trait best embodied by KAEDEHARA KAZUHA, the boy who sits next to you in English class. On the surface, he seems normal enough — although one could argue that he is abnormally pretty with his snowy white hair and eyes the colour of autumnal maple leaves. However, he is also strange in other ways. Six months of conversing with Kazuha have led you to the conclusion that he is most definitely odd, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Unlike most of your peers, Kazuha often appears to have his head in the clouds, daydreaming in a world that he has made entirely his own. There are times where he stares out the window, sighing wistfully as he gazes at the vivid azure sky overhead. On other occasions, he writes poems in the worn notebook he always carries around, hardly minding the way you look over his shoulder to get a glimpse of what he's writing. Most puzzling of all, however, is his tendency to absentmindedly stare at you in the middle of class. He doesn’t even have the shame to look away when you glance back at him. He just maintains eye contact and smiles at you, causing you to avert your gaze first.

Despite the fact that Kazuha is rather odd, he is still a polite and compassionate person. Whenever you allow him to proofread your assignments, he compliments your work in embellished words that bloom with praise, and he offers advice in a way that feels warm and genuine. You feel at ease with him — unafraid of being judged. However, sometimes guilt gnaws at you when you ask for Kazuha's help because he's always the one assisting you. He has nothing to gain, but he continues assisting you out of the kindness of his own heart.

That's why when Kazuha asks you to read over some of his poetry for the first time, you agree without hesitation. A quick scan of the page Kazuha directs you to causes you to raise your eyebrows. It's a love poem that is cryptically addressed to ‘the one I adore’. You can feel the affection Kazuha harbors toward the person mentioned in the poem just by reading it. When you ask Kazuha who it's for, he simply chuckles and asks if you like his poetry, effectively dodging your question. You decide to let him off easy and give him a half-hearted answer, pretending that you aren’t jealous of the person he likes.

Over the remainder of the year, Kazuha continues showing you his poetry and requesting input from you. Each time you read his impeccably-crafted works, you feel your heart race. His poems are spun from the stuff of dreams — sweeter than the cotton candy clouds that hang in the sky outside the classroom window.

Sometimes you like to entertain the idea that they could be for you, but you always shut the notion down before it can grow into a fully-developed thought, too insecure to believe someone as handsome and thoughtful as Kazuha could ever hold such feelings for you. 

When it comes time for the final English class of the year, you swear that you’ve read almost every form of poem in existence from sonnets to haikus to odes. On that particular day, you notice something different about Kazuha. He seems more fidgety than usual, and he has entirely lost his ability to zone out, instead becoming hyperaware of his surroundings. The smallest movements you make cause him to whip his head around to steal a glance at you.

You discover the reason behind his atypical behaviour at the end of class when he hands you a simple white envelope. When you open it, you find pages upon pages of poetry, causing you to experience a sudden epiphany.

The one he loved was you all along.

Raiden Kunikuzushi — more commonly known as SCARAMOUCHE — is living proof that pretty privilege exists. At least, that’s what you believe.

He’s infuriating. No matter how abhorrent you find the way he treats his friends (who are honestly more akin to acquaintances), they never stand up to him. They simply allow Scaramouche to walk all over them. It's like he's put them in a trance with his breathtaking eyes, which are filled with starlight and tinted an indigo reminiscent of the awe-inspiring night sky.

But despite the fact that he is admired by many, his relationships are purely superficial. To his peers, he is nothing more than a sight for sore eyes, and that is what keeps the bitterness of envious sentiments from swallowing you whole. You’ll never be jealous of Scaramouche because his popularity stems solely from his looks. 

His situation evokes a feeling of pity within the depths of your soul. The notion of your contempt for the boy still remains ingrained in your mind, but you also can’t help but pity him.

Perhaps that is what pushes you to sit beside him in your physics class on the first day of school when you notice that he is all alone. You have your reservations, but the way Scaramouche is scowling makes you think he’ll explode out of sheer rage if you don't take action.

Things start off slowly. He doesn't speak to you at first. You simply see him glancing suspiciously at you in your peripheral vision, as if he believes you have ulterior motives. However, the awkward tension becomes too much for you far too quickly, so on a typical day of classes, you decide to take your chances and pass him a note in the middle of a lesson, asking him how his day was.

When Scaramouche first sees your note, he frowns. It almost appears as though he's in disbelief because someone has taken an interest in him rather than his looks. Nonetheless, he decides to entertain you and promptly responds to you, writing a reply underneath your message in impressively neat handwriting. This sparks a conversation. One instance of the two of you passing notes in class turns to two — and two to three until you and Scaramouche are discreetly conversing each class.

Your inconspicuous discussions with Scaramouche lead you to learn more about him as a person. Whereas before you thought he was just a shallow pretty boy, now you know that he’s both cunning and witty. He never fails to make you laugh with his sarcastic comments, and despite the fact that he seems rather mean-spirited at times, you discover that once he opens up, he is more than capable of caring for others. Case in point: on days where you're feeling down, he (attempts) to tell you jokes to make you feel better, and he gives you the candy that his mother packs for him, claiming that he "doesn't like sweets anyway."

If only other people could take the time to get to know the real him. Underneath the veil of entrancing vanity and mystery that surrounds him, Scaramouche is a surprisingly entertaining and contemplative person.

However, for now, it seems that Scaramouche is more than content with the relationship he has with you. He doesn't care for any of his two-faced "friends." The only one he needs is you.

Fate has rather unconventional methods of bringing people together. There are times where you believe it is sentient, cutting, weaving, and pulling on the delicate threads that bind humans together with its steady hands.

Fate must be alive and working its magical because there is no other plausible explanation for how things ended up this way. All that is to say, some otherworldly force must have noticed your desperation to get closer to your longtime crush, XIAO, and finally decided to take pity on you.

It's crazy to think that one minuscule decision can shape the course of your entire relationship with someone, but your own experiences are indicating to you that there is some merit to the claim. After all, your computer science teacher's spontaneous choice to seat you next to Xiao is what kindles the first sparks of your relationship with him.

It all starts with music. At first, Xiao doesn’t attempt to converse with you. He seems adamant on retaining his introverted ways. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to you; he's just inexperienced when it comes to socialization. So instead of making an effort to talk to you, he simply grabs a pair of earbuds and listens to his favourite songs whenever the teacher gives the class time to work.

This all changes when you muster the courage to ask him what he’s listening to. The way his eyes widen that fateful day, gazing at you with surprise evident in his pools of amber, is something you’ll never forget.

After all the silence on his end, you still want to talk to him? He is touched by your resolve, but he is also afraid of being too blunt, so instead of giving you an overly-verbose response, he asks you if you want to listen with him, offering you one of his earbuds. Xiao's heart jumps when you accept with an endearing smile. From then on, the two of you bond over music, and Xiao begins feeling comfortable enough to speak to you.

Gradually, years of distance and rigid formality vanish. Hushed conversations at the back of a sunlit classroom, shy waves from across cramped hallways, and accidental touches of his hands to yours replace the barriers that once separated the two of you. A once hopeless situation gives way to a radiant future as you finally begin getting closer to the boy you've pined over for as long as you can remember.

I like to imagine that Xiao would secretly be a fan of TWICE (yes, the Kpop girl group), and the reader would be in for the shock of their life when a hardcore punk song ends, and they just hear "shy shy shy" lmao ANYWAY!! I hope you enjoyed reading this! (P.S. sorry if there are mistakes; I feel like I'm making this worse each time I edit it)

[flxffyclvuds]

Bro🥺🥺🥺🥺

Ily/p

Let's go farming more often! But I might be slow bc I'm playing on controller:')

Tag a quality blog, You’re it! Quality doesn’t means that you have a lot of followers, or a lot of messages. It means that you’re nice to other people, and you deserve to be happy. If you get this message, someone is telling you that they love you as you are, and they don’t care how many followers you have. Send this to 15 blogs who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing will happen. But it’s just good to let someone know that you love them. :)

thank you thank you thank you thank you <3

@pride-potato @geeky-gay-greek @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @fayeisuppose @directlyat-thesun @when-wax-wings-melt @darling-im-the-queen-of-hell @the-end-is-heree @thehometownskeptics @the-pastel-ghost-femboy @nemideia @viere @escapingthereality @i-will-sing-no-requiem @ultravioletmorning–light @fluffylionthoughts @autistic–crows @foundationsretail and everyone else i didn’t tag it’s very early in the morning

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Babygirls :((<33333

wanted to draw my faves together

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My bbygirl<3333

the man the myth the legend, mr yaksha himself!!

MARCH 8, 2023

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SORRY FOR SEEING IT LATE LOL BUT AHHHHH THANK YOU FOR WRITING THE LEV REQUEST AND EVEN BEING NICE ENOUGH TO WRITE OIKAWA AS WELL??!! it was a fun read and your writing just makes me rly comfortable, also the kita post🥺🥺🥺 i love him lol

cant wait for more of ur work! xx💋

AGSDSRSV JM THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE SAYING THANK YOU :((( YOU HELP ME SPARK MY INTEREST FOR HAIKYUU AND WRITING AGAIN :((<333333

Kita supremacy 🛐🛐🛐

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Lev Haiba boyfriend hcs!

Requested!

Cw: caps, my feelings on tall people

Lev Lev Lev, what can you say? He's a charming fellow! Bubbly, cute, tall, blunt<33

It was easy for him to unintentionally grab your attention with that annoying height of his. He was almost as tall as the Eiffel tower!!!

And if there's one thing you've learnt, tall people = big ego

But! Despite that, you tried to get close to Lev. And you found comfort in his presence!!! it feels like he knew you your entire life!!!

But it's not all fun and games until you bump into him in the hallway late at night-

The way his eyes looks at you as if he knows all your deepest secret. You were so sure that you would've pissed yourself right there and then if it weren't for Yaku throwing a towel at Lev.

Ever since then, you couldn't see him the same despite his gremlin attitude towards you. But! It took you a while to get over that scary interaction.

He gets so excited whenever he sees you outside of class, always waving aggressively at you and almost slap people multiple times-

He also invites you to watch his practices that you became their unofficial manager!!

When the two of you got together, the team was kind of shocked but quickly got over it. They would just accept it and move on. Except for Yamamoto-

"ARGHHH!! NOT ONLY HE WANTS TO STEAL MY SPOT AS THE ACE, HE ALSO GETS A PARTNER BEFORE MEE!?!?!???"

"pfft- imagine not pulling?"

"GET BACK HERE KENMA!!! IM GOING TO DESTROY YOU!!!"

And with another reason to fuel Yamamoto's hatred towards the giant (he still cares for lev tho), your hyperactive giant comes out of practice with more tired than any other practices that day ♡

He tries to stand up properly so he could act like it was no big deal but he ends ups like a wet noodle falling on the ground :(

* Bonus *

Once he introduces you to his sister, you’re no longer his s/o, you’re hers now. She doesn't care if you're his (no she does) you're her s/o once she sees you<3

Oh you're at his place to do homework? Sorry, Alisa's taking you shopping.

You're here to hang out? Alright, time gossip 🤭 oops, forgot lev buddie for a second-

"[Name]!! You're here!! Let's go shopping, I've been wanting to go to this new store I found! :D"

"But Alisa-"

"No buts! You always spend time with Lev and not me :(" (L i e s)

"He's failing japanese!!! He needs me!"

Cue to you being dragged away, leaving Lev in the dust. Standing alone at his front door. 🧍

Don't worry, Alisa will pick the finest clothes for you! Might even spoil you as well <3

And because of her, you've gain +20 fashion sense!

She even let you try some of her clothes if you have a similar body as her! Only some because she won't let you touch her favorite ones. Which is almost her entire closet-

She makes it up for awesome makeovers!!! She's always done it on Lev when he was younger and still now!! Dw, she won't do anything embarrassing.. Most of the time-

Sorry for the long wait :') I don't really have that much time atm- but thank you for reading!! Reblogs are appreciated :]

Taglist: @wilczachannn @aphroditesgarden @soobswvrld

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helloo, checked out ur blog, i love ur fluffy writing! i’d like to request boyfriend headcanons with lev haiba please, if u write for him(if not, i have oikawa as a substitute, or you can just ignore this request lol). he’s my absolute comfort character and i get all giddy just imagining how silly and goofy and fun and positive he would be. also very attentive and loving. plus i’d be best friends with her sister, i can just FEEL that she would give me makeovers and lend me her clothes or take me shopping. life would be so much fun and happy as his girlfriend. these are my two cents. have a very nice day!!

Adfdh aww you're so sweet and nice :(((<333 really made me kicking my legs and giggling 🤭 💕

I just to warn you beforehand that the hcs might be longer than my other ones! and I format it differently. I hope you don't mind!!

And it will be gender neutral reader as well, I'm not really comfortable writing fem!reader, so I hope it's ok :]

Alright! two bf hcs coming right up! I will be uploading them separately if that’s alright :')

edit: oops- i forgot to upload :') I'll do it tmw

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Anyways, new content out soon!!

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I love tits 🥴🥴🥴