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uptoolateart · 2 years

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Elite Symbolism in MLB

So, @raspberrycatapult was talking to me about all the recurrent butterfly symbolism in MLB - and the fact that all the buses in the show are the number 33 route when there is no such route in Paris - and both of us had noticed the giant 33 behind Kagami in the art room in ‘Lies’. She was pointing out all the single eye imagery in the show, too, which I’ll get to later - among many other motifs.

It was a fascinating conversation that I shared with my husband, who then brought up MKUltra, which I’d heard plenty about but I never really took in the finer details and certainly hadn’t applied them to my beloved cartoon.

As soon as I was thinking on this track, a zillion other things leapt out at me. They are so obvious once you get going, and I’m going to share some of them here. I bet more pops out as I watch the show, from here on out, but this is a quick starter guide.

Caveat

I am not in any way trying to sell you on a belief. Feel free to think everything I discuss here is ‘just conspiracy theory’. My sole point is that a) the creators of Miraculous are at least aware of the theory and b) they have very purposely integrated it into the show in order to propel their story and give weight to the characters. When we examine all these elements that have been embedded into this ‘children’s cartoon’, we see just how dark Adrien’s story, in particular, really is.

Gabriel

Let’s start with Gabriel’s name. It has always stood out to me, because it’s one of the archangels and a definite name of power. This archangel also happens to be held in high esteem in Freemasonry and other similar organisations.

Gabriel’s brand is just a giant G. ‘Oh, it looks like Gucci!’ Yeah. That, and the G of Freemasonry.

And you know that enormous essay I wrote about the symbolism of Gabriel dressing all in white now?? I left out the Masonic uniform of white - like their white apron. Think of Gabriel in the kitchen making those banana pancakes, in that white apron...or how about how the gloves, which simply are Masonic regalia gloves. You can buy them on Amazon, even.

This is without even getting into the recurrence of the number 33, as mentioned at the start of this post. @raspberrycatapult even pointed out that in the original animatic of ‘Stormy Weather’, the bus was number 34, but it got changed in the final animation. You have to ask why a detail like that matters...and then a quick google search will tell you there are 33 degrees / levels in Masonry. And why put that number all big behind Kagami in ‘Lies’? Because she’s a subjugate just like Adrien.

Now, let’s look at Gabriel’s office, where he stands at a dais-like podium on an elevated platform, with his ‘subjects’ on sunken in seats that look like pews in a church or temple. The whole floor is checkerboard. We could also get into the sun imagery on the doors, but...honestly, we could go into a whole bunch of things and I’m finding it hard to know where to stop before this post turns into a novel.

Here’s the image...and below it, a Masonic lodge, for comparison. The image has been tinted blue for effect, but in reality, the checkboard would always be black and white, to signify the balance between opposite energies. And um...isn’t that the whole idea behind kwami energies and yin-yang pairs?

I also want to note that Gabriel is positioned in a way that gives the impression of him being at the centre of two pillars. There are literally thousands of books written on the western / hermetic magical concept of ‘the middle pillar’, being the balancing way between two extremes. It also comes up in eastern beliefs, e.g. Buddhism.

In hermeticism, this is connected to the practice of cabala and therefore the Tree of Life, a structure built into just about every important building and painting all over Europe, America, and more. No, really. Remember they are called Masons for a reason - it began with builders, and they integrated their spiritual concepts into their work.

As a tarot enthusiast, this structure is also embedded into almost every single card in any traditional deck. It’s a subject I could spend a lot of time on, but let’s move on.

Eyes

Getting back to the single eye imagery in the show, @raspberrycatapult was pointing out, for example, the eyes on Emilie’s painting, and even pyramids in the design they took from the original inspiration.

I'm getting at this classic image of the Eye of Providence, of course:

@raspberrycatapult pointed out Marinette’s single eye peeking through the box when she looked into the room where everyone was dancing in masks, in ‘Gabriel Agreste’.

And like...we all agree that whole party was creepy as hell...right?? As soon as I saw it, I thought ‘rich weirdo cult!’ It was so obvious that Ms Tsurugi must be in on Gabriel’s plans. I was excited to see this proven in season 5. I’m still waiting to be proven right that the Bourgeois are in on it, too, at least to some degree. And come on. The Bourgeois?? It’s a reference to an entire class of society.

I then got to thinking: peacock feathers are known for looking like they have one eye. And whoever uses the peacock miraculous to transform ends up having one eye covered, in their costume, e.g. with a veil. And thinking of Ms Tsurugi again...she’s blind and then can see, when akumatised.

It also helps to remember that we’re all waiting for unveilings / unmaskings in this show, from all directions. We’re waiting for people to see the truth. Makes you think of the names of the first two episodes of Season 4....

Monarch

And now we get super dark.

MKUltra was an illegal CIA experiment begun in 1958 and supposedly concluded, although there are plenty of people who believe it continues to this day. Again - I’m not saying it does or doesn’t. I’m only stating that there is a definite record of it happening in the 1950s and that there are people out there who don’t think it stopped.

MKUltra was a series of experiments in human mind control, a summary of which can be read about here. There’s also this video from the BBC and a zillion other things. Be warned - this is a rabbit hole you can easily fall into for hours.

Very briefly: ‘In the early days of the Cold War, the CIA ordered the creation of a secret programme intended to find ways of mind control. They funded an army of psychiatric institutions across the United States and Canada to perform experiments on patients using psychedelic drugs, sensory deprivation, electroshock treatment and more.’

The point my husband made, which I was not aware of, was that part of MKUltra was something called ‘the Monarch Project’. Again, a mind control and subjugation experiment.

Now, without stating the obvious, let’s think about things like the akumas. Adrien and those rings. Sentimonsters. Every single thing Gabriel does, in or out of costume, is a form of mind control, and he has programmed it into Adrien via his home and even the clothes he wears. This is what gets Marinette thinking perhaps Gabriel is the villain. Adrien doesn’t want to believe it because he wants to trust. Everyone wants to trust the adults / authority figures in their lives. But for the heroes of Miraculous, this trust will be broken.

I’m also brought back to ‘Mega Leech’, when the miniature copies of Mayor Bourgeois crawled into people’s heads and controlled what they said. It has always stuck out at me as allegory for brainwashing - grooming people so much that you get them to preach your propaganda for you. This is what Gabriel does with all his victims, too. He’s not the one out there, doing the damage. He gets in other people’s heads and has them do it for him.

We’ve also seen other instances of this with villains like Despair Bear and Puppeteer. This is...a subject that could take up thousands of words. You get what I’m saying.

Adrien / Cat Noir

If you look into this stuff, you come across a lot of detail about something called ‘the beta kitten’, which is a form of sexual programming. In fact, it literally involves grooming someone into having a ‘cat alter’.

Honestly...you could read so much about it and all the ways it gets applied to celebrities such as Britney Spears. Don’t even get me started on the Britney thing. If that kind of thing can happen in the 21st century, we really need to re-think how ‘far we’ve come’.

Anyway. Part of this involves a lot of repeating imagery and symbols, the way hypnosis and neuro-linguistic programming work. Symbols that appear in tons of promotional photographs, music videos, etc. Symbols like...collars and bells, mirrors and reflections.

Again, I’m not selling you the theory - you’re free to make up your own mind about it. But I’ve said so many times that Cat Noir is fully decked out in bondage gear, right down to his collar and bell. And this is for a reason - he is in bondage. He is enslaved.

I also said in a previous post that Kagami’s name is Japanese for ‘mirror’. There’s all the doubling between Adrien and Felix, Chloe and Zoe, Adrien and his AI replica, each character and their superhero or supervillain alter(s), etc. Again...we could be here all day, listing examples.

What does it all mean??

That’s a good question! I’ll leave it to you to decide. At the very least, it means that Gabriel and his cronies have been designed to represent something darker than we usually discuss. They are authority figures who abuse their fame and power to the highest degree, bringing to mind all the news stories we keep hearing about, for instance, people in Hollywood being accused of years of sexual assault.

Adrien being a model...again, I just think of child stars like Britney Spears, who, like Adrien, was completely owned by her own father. He controlled everything she did, using her to make his millions and having her declared insane so he could continue to control her after she turned 18. Let’s not get into just how disgusting her story is. My heart bleeds for her and others like her, and I’ll leave it at that.

But it’s not all doom and gloom. Miraculous is all about breaking free of mind control and programming. Alya, Nino and Chloe all managed to reject the akumatisation. Marinette did it, too, with the help of Cat Noir. I suppose you could say that in most cases, love broke the spell. That’s what we need to hold onto.

There’s a lot about throwing off the masks and revealing the truth. Adrien’s definitely on his way to breaking free of the ring and overthrowing his father, which will be him overthrowing the mind control and being his own person.

So, I suppose you could take a positive message from all of this and say it speaks of hope. We live in a world where it’s hard to know who is selling us truth and who is selling lies - where we live our lives in public and are often on camera, from CCTV to selfies - where the Internet is teeming with ‘influencers’ and targeted advertising, and ‘smart’ devices really can track us and collect data the way the Alliance can. (The Alliance. Even that name...!)

But every one of us has the power to make up our own minds about things and be our own person. Every one of us has the power to throw off the collar and bell and simply be.

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youwouldntlietopapa · 4 months

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First Impressions - Chapter 6

Rating: 18+

Features: Secondo x OC (Ophelia)

Tags: anxiety, self loathing, poor self image

(Also available on AO3)

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It was a long while before either of them could be convinced to move, much less to get up and walk back to the main building. Ophelia tugged on her clothes almost reluctantly, opting to carry her shoes. It made her seem so much smaller next to him and, for half a heartbeat, there was a rush of protectiveness and shame that he hadn’t been more careful with her. But she took his arm gladly and followed his lead back to the main doors without any hint that she needed the help or the worry. Still, he took more time than he normally might have. Partly for her and partly because he knew that, beyond those doors, there was little more than stark reality. The siblings quarters were one way and the Papal apartments, the other. No matter how long they’d spent together in that creaky old day bed of Primo’s, the night was still rapidly coming to an end. To a point where the magic would break and it would be done.

Isn’t that what you wanted? For it to be over? Let her go, move on, get back to normal? This isn’t for you. You know that. This game, this dance, you’ve done it before and it always ends. Go back to your seclusion, give your thanks, and know there will be another, and another, and another…

Secondo hadn’t felt cold until the moment they stepped past the threshold and stood in the entryway. Something about the warmth of the building made the chill worse, sending a shiver up his spine. Ophelia turned to stand in front of him, looking up with that private smile and those eyes that cut through to his core, making him wonder again if it was a blessing or a curse.

There were only the dim evening lights keeping the halls from slipping into total darkness, but it still seemed bright compared to the greenhouse and the gardens. Certainly enough light to see the mark he’d left just above her shoulder. Something, he cringed inwardly at the thought, that usually felt like a trophy. A point of pride. This is mine. Secondo reached out and rested his hand there, running his thumb over the spot while a sense of shame rose up like bile at the back of his throat. Cursing himself for a fool, a hamfisted idiot, damaging everything he touched without ever stopping to think or hold back or be gentle.

It always breaks. And I’m the one who breaks it. Want doesn’t come into it. It should be over, I should move on, I should get back to normal. Because she’ll break too. Like all the rest. And it will be my fault. Again.

He didn’t need his anxieties or the anger or the bitterness or any of the million voices of the ever present chorus of self-loathing to tell him that. He wouldn’t claim ignorance of who and what he was. It was the truth, no matter how hard it was to swallow, and long past time that he did. How many times had he been told it’s never too late to change? But, standing there, looking at her, it felt like a lifetime too late. Like the man he could have been died decades before and all he had left to offer was a broken, empty shell of a man who had proven time and time again, he wasn’t up to the task of being the one people wanted.

She will leave, like the rest, and it’s better that way.

“Thank you for tonight.” Her voice was quiet but sincere. “It’s been a better evening than I’ve had in… a very long time.”

“No, no.” His hand caught hers and he lifted it to kiss her fingers. “I should thank you for accepting my invitation. It is… a very good evening. Better even than I hope.”

Ophelia hesitated. He could feel it and he tensed instinctively, waiting for the blow. But she only looked down at her hand in his with an uncertainty that seemed unlike her. “... I would like to see you again. If… if you’re interested, of course.”

It’s just courtesy. Social niceties. The things you’re supposed to say. We should get together for coffee, hang out soon, I’ll call, we’ll catch up. All the bullshit people say and never do. That’s all and nothing more.

“I…Of course.” He was Papa. Papa tends to his flock. All the siblings were free to see him. They all knew where his office was. Even if they preferred Terzo. Hell, they even prefer Copia. She could see him, if she liked. But she wouldn’t. “I would like that.”

She took back her hand delicately and found a pen in the small clutch she carried. Quickly making a note on the back of a business card from a bookseller he’d never heard of, and offered it over. Her personal number. He knew the extensions in the building and the direct line to the library. Not, of course, because he’d looked it up. Or that he’d started dialling it a dozen times. It was only his excellent memory. Obviously.

“So you don’t have to go to the trouble of sending a ghoul.” Her smile was cheeky but he’d earned that one.

Secondo took the card and tucked it in his pocket. Returning the smile. “I will remember.” He cupped her cheek once more and bent down to kiss her softly. “Buona notte, Ophelia.” (Good night, Ophelia.)

“Buona notte, Secondo. Sogni d'oro.” (Good night, Secondo. Sweet dreams.)

He stood and watched as she turned to go, disappearing down the hall. Not moving a muscle until she was out of sight. Letting out a long, heavy breath when she turned down the corridor to the Sibling’s wing. Scrubbing his face with his hands before he finally turned, headed for his own apartment.

……

Morning came. Whether it was wanted or not. Typically, Secondo was not a man who used the snooze button. He was, more often than not, already half awake before his alarm even beeped. His schedule was a constant and the alarm was more a part of the routine than something he actually needed. The one experiment with turning it off completely only resulted in a sleepless night thinking about how it wasn’t set. But that morning in particular, he decided the alarm was the most loathsome thing he’d ever heard in his life.

It was fair to say that his plan had failed spectacularly. Any hope of “getting it out of his system” had withered and died around 4am. Going “back to normal” seemed like a hopeless impossibility. And “moving on”? Laughable.

Fool. Stupid, soft, gullible fool.

Even just lying there in bed, staring at the ceiling, he was sure he could still smell her perfume. Dragging him back to the greenhouse, the sound of her voice ringing in his ears. The taste of her on his lips. Closing his eyes only served to conjure up the image of her above him, riding him, with the early morning sun in her hair and his name on her lips.

“Sei perfetto…”

“Cazzo.” He growled, smacking the alarm clock when it beeped as if he meant to put his hand through it. Secondo shoved himself up and swung his legs off the bed. Looking down at his cock like like the traitor it was, risen early with him and his imagination, begging for attention. For one moment of pure madness, his mind went to the card Ophelia had given him, still tucked safely in his pocket.

Absolutely fucking not.

A shower was what he needed, not to be harassing some poor sibling - Ophelia. Her name is Ophelia - Some Poor Sibling at the crack of dawn like a dirty old man at a bus stop. He forced himself to stand, using the mostly sleepless night to fuel his annoyance. Channelling the pent up energy into something else. Anything else. Grumbling all the way to the bathroom.

He dragged the dark cloud with him through his entire morning routine, from his apartment to his office, watching siblings and ghouls scattering as he approached. The longer he clung to it, the more sour his mood turned. Sitting at his desk, glaring at his untouched espresso, considering a cigarette and throwing the case across the room equally. Ignoring the Want running riot in his head, screaming in directionless fury at the walls he’d put up around everything it was so focused on. Clawing madly at every crack in the defences to grasp even one shred of those forbidden things. Hoarding every stray detail that hadn’t been caught up in the desperate attempt at a purge.

Smelling orange blossoms in her hair.

The crinkle at the corner of her eyes when she smiled.

The way she met his gaze every time and didn’t pull away.

The gentle way she’d touched him and wanted, asked, to be close.

“It was you I wanted.”

On and on until he wanted to scream and his collar was choking him and his office was too small, too hot, too stifling.

Secondo slammed his hands on his desk and stood, breathing like he’d run the whole way around the building. Staring at nothing and grasping at straws for anything to shift his focus. If nothing else, he needed to get out of his office. Out of the Abbey entirely. Primo would be in the gardens, and even getting chewed out for using his things the night before seemed better than just sitting there, feeling like there were fire ants under his skin. Maybe being told what a stupid idea it had been would shake loose this idiocy and he could set it aside.

The office door flew open with enough force to hit the wall and the noise echoed in the hallway, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It sent the few lingering siblings scrambling to be anywhere else and he was in no mood for simple pleasantries or gawking idiots. His long strides put distance between his desk and himself rapidly. Barely registering the halls as they rushed past. Too focused on getting away from the noise and the people and all of it. Only really slowing down when he shouldered his way through the main doors and stepped out into the sunlight, squinting at the sudden brightness like he’d only just crawled out of the pit.

The cool breeze brushed against his cheek, a soft caress that calmed the storm even a little, and he breathed in deep. Closing his eyes and trying to centre himself again. Letting the familiar smells of his brother’s hard work drag him back years, decades, when life seemed… maybe not easier, but… smaller. When he still believed that he would know the answers one day, that it wouldn’t need to be so hard. Thank the Dark Lord that boy had gotten to live even a few moments of ignorant bliss. Secondo suspected he’d be sorely disappointed if he knew the truth.

I’m still stumbling in the dark.

He took a few more slow breaths and opened his eyes. Whether Primo was angry or not, Secondo needed to speak to his older brother. That much he knew. If anyone would have advice, it would be him.

The path branched away from the main walkway up to the front doors and he followed it around the side of the building. The garden was, mercifully, quiet. The usual clusters of siblings were nowhere to be seen and the few ghouls he did see were content to be lounging in the sun. For a few minutes he started to believe his luck might be improving. The stress and the panic started receding. Finally room to breathe. A belief he managed to hold on to right up until he rounded the corner and ran face first into the reason no one was around. He had been distracted. Longer than he’d assumed. Too distracted to hear the bell making meal times. And there, sitting on the bench, in the shade of the oldest tree in the garden, was his proof.

Ophelia stared down at her book, idly chewing a carrot stick and ignoring the rest of her lunch. As she had been most days over the noon hour. Secondo stopped dead and took a step back, half hiding around the corner, feeling ridiculous. At very least, he considered, seeing her there had shut out every other sound in his head. The need and the want both frozen in place, waiting and watching. The screaming chorus fell silent in anticipation as well. All while he stood there, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Cazzo.

If he had a thousand years to try and come up with a reason for what he did next, he was sure he couldn’t come up with anything even remotely believable. Even when he did it, he couldn’t come up with a reason. And still, his hands moved on their own. More of his own body joining the mutiny against his good sense. More of that woman’s witchcraft. Secondo reached out for the dizzying spray of flowers beside him, carefully planted and tended to by his brother’s own hand, and picked the ones that caught his attention above the rest. Carefully pinching them off their stems in the vain hopes death might be more merciful when it caught up with him. Staring down at the small handful he’d collected when his hands finished their personal work.

This is stupidity. Madness even.

He let out a deep sigh, stepping off the well worn path, crossing the grass like a man walking to the gallows.

Picking flowers? Is that what we’ve been reduced to? After one day?

The sun caught her hair and turned it to liquid gold and fire, dancing in the breeze. She didn’t even look up, lost in the words on the page. His steps, muffled by the grass, approaching unnoticed.

It’s not too late to turn back. She hasn’t even seen. Go to the greenhouse. Primo will give you a distraction.

Secondo cleared his throat and Ophelia looked up from her reading. A warm smile spreading across her features like it was always meant to be there.

Fool. Fool. Thrice damned fool.

“May I join you?”

She waved to the seat next to her. “I would like that.”

Secondo sat, holding out the small bouquet of flowers. She took them delicately, smiling wider. Her cheeks flushing pink and the corners of her eyes crinkling in a way that made his knees feel weak.

“... Did you pick these just for me?”

“... Si.”

Ophelia leaned closer and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

“I don’t think to bring any last night.” As excuses go, it wasn’t the worst one he could have come up with at least.

She looked down at the flowers in her hands, freshly picked, by Secondo himself, and then back up at him. “Oh no. This is better. Much better.”

“What are you reading?” He tapped her book with a finger.

She tucked in a bookmark and turned it for him to see for himself. Quickly launching into a rather animated explanation of the book, the author, their other works. Her passion for it all burning as brightly as the sun. Secondo sat back on the bench, taking a deep breath and relaxing just a bit. Watching her talk while the corner of his mouth turned up just so. She’d been right. The garden was beautiful. Being away from the work and not surrounded by siblings, it felt more free. The birds sang beautifully, unaffected by the anxieties of one broken old man. And sitting there with her, taking it all in, the answer came clearly into view.

She was a blessing and a curse.

And he was thankful for both.

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“Buona notte, Ophelia.” = Good night, Ophelia.

“Buona notte, Secondo. Sogni d'oro.” = Good night, Secondo. Sweet dreams.

“Cazzo.” = Fuck

#ghost fanfic #secondo x oc #papa ii x oc #secondo x ophelia #MDNI

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dialovers-translations · 2 years

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Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Kanato Maniac [06]

ー The scene starts on the balcony of the Sakamaki castle

Kanato: ...It’s true...

( The Adler troops are approaching the manor...and they’re high in numbers too... )

Butler: Let us run, Kanato-sama! The Castle has basically fallen in the grasp of the enemy already!

But we can still make it out if we leave now! Come on, hurry!

Kanato: I...to go...

Butler: Eh...?

Kanato: Yui-san...is in danger!

ー Kanato runs away

Butler: K-Kanato-sama!!

ー The scene shifts to the guest room

*Thud*

Kanato: ーー Yui-san!

...

Monologue

There were countless of footprints,

scattered across the floor of the room she has been using,

and things had been turned upside down here and there.

However, she was nowhere to be found,

as the image which flashed back in my mind,

was one of her covered in blood,

like the one I saw in that dream from earlierーー

I immediately assumed the worst,

leaving me completely frozen on the spot,

unable to move.

Kanato: ( What if...she was attacked and killed... )

...?

( Why...? Why am I so terrified of her dying...? )

( I thought I wanted her dead, but right now I fear that reality... )

ー Adlers burst into the room

*Woosh woosh woosh*

Kanato: ...!?

Male Adler A: We’ve found you, Sakamaki Kanato!

*Woosh woosh woosh*

*STAB*

Kanato: ーー Guah!?

( ...Red blood... )

( I wonder...if she was also shot by an arrow like this... )

Male Adler B: Heh...I guess his son who can’t even properly control his own powers truly does not compare to that man himself.

Give up and offer your head to us.

Kanato: ...Don’t be ridiculous...

That girl...Where did you take her?

If you are keeping her captive, I demand you release her at once!

Male Adler B: Heh...Are you talking about Eve?

That woman, well...Hehe. I’ve long killed her already.

Kanato: ...!

Male Adler B: ーー Take a look. These blood-stained clothes prove my point.

She was sleeping soundly after all. So I slit her throat with my claws.

Kanato: ...Ah...

( Why...? How come...? )

Male Adler B: ...Hm?

Kanato: ...Haah...Haah...

Male Adler A: Something is up with this guーー

*WOOSH*

Malde Adler A: Uwaaaah!!!

Male Adler B: Kuh...I was hoping to break his fighting spirit but it had the opposite effect, huh?

You guys! Get in position! We’ll all fire our arrows at once!

ーー My fallen comrade...!! I promise I shall avenge you...!

*Woosh woosh woosh*

*WOOSH*

Male Adler B: Kuh...Stop struggling in vain!

Kanato: Unforgivable...

I will never...ever forgive you!

ーー To hell with all of you!!

*WOOSH*

ー The scene shifts to the underground waterway

*BOOM*

Yui: ( ...!? The ground’s shaking...!? )

*Crumble crumble*

Subaru: ーー Watch out!

ー Subaru quickly pushes Yui out of the way

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah!?

Subaru: ...Oi, are you alright?

Yui: Y-Yeah. Thanks, Subaru-kun...

Laito: Haah...Where did those tremors just now come from...?

Ayato: An earthquake or somethin’? Che...Talk ‘bout shitty timin’.

Reiji: No...Whilst faint, I could sense Kanato’s magic. I believe his powers might have flurried out of control again.

Yui: ...Kanato-kun...!

ー Yui starts running

Subaru: ーー Oi! Wait!!

*Rustle*

Yui: !?

Shuu: Calm down.

Yui: B-But...Kanato-kun is!

Shuu: You came to seek our help because you couldn’t handle him by yourself, right?

It’s kind of annoying to have you act of your own accord now.

Yui: W-Well...

Selection

→ But... (❦)

Yui: But...! If something happens to Kanato-kun...!

Shuu: ...

I mean, if you insist, be my guest.

...It’s just you better not expect us to help you still then.

Yui: Eh...?

Shuu: Isn’t that obvious? We don’t want to get dragged any further into this mess because you just do whatever you please.

Yui: ...I-I’m sorry. I promise I’ll behave...

→ You’re right...

Yui: ( Shuu-san’s right... )

I’m sorry...

Shuu: It’s fine. As long as you understand.

Reiji: ...For now, we should wait out the situation.

There’s still the chance that the walls around us could collapse,

but we also cannot proceed any further unless we move the rubble out of the way.

Yui: ( ...Every second feels like an eternity... )

( Kanato-kun...Please stay safe... )

Monologue

Several more times afterwards,

loud sounds and tremors shook up the underground waterway.

While being eaten alive by anxiety,

my mind wanders off to Kanato-kun.

The others kept me safe,

from the walls as they come falling down.

But...Who is protecting Kanato-kun?

There is absolutely no one,

to save him as he’s all by himself (ひとりぼっち).

He must be lonely. I’m sure.

Because I ran away (逃げた),

when I should have always been there for him...

Because I turned away from the issue I needed to face...

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kanato sakamaki #lost eden #diabolik lovers translation #lekanatomaniac6

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marta-bee · 1 year

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I’m seeing a lot of people reacting to the new season of Good Omens. (I’ve not seen it myself yet, so I don’t think there are spoilers here; if there are, they’re so truly vague my brain isn’t even processing them as such.) Anyway, quite a lot of you aren’t liking it in whole or in part, which is of course your right.

Quite a lot of those reactions I’d connect to middle-act awkwardness. Which is also again your right to be unsatisfied by or unhappy with. But if it helps... middle acts are always hard to enjoy. Whether it’s Han Solo frozen in carbonite, Frodo being not quite dead but nearly as good as locked away in Cirith Ungor in Two Towers (trust me when I say the book ends in one heck of an unsatisfactory cliffhanger, much moreso than the movie), or just .... everything going on at the end of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, a good penultimate story almost always has to leave us frustrated as readers. That’s the point, isn’t it? To leave us wanting more, to feel like the story isn’t finished yet?

But because of the realities of modern storytelling, we’re going to have to wait so much longer for the resolution and the pay-off. We’ll be waiting for years for this story to come to fruition, and damn it, our blorbos are suffering; or worse yet, they don’t even feel like our blorbos just now. Which was always going to suck no matter how you cut it. It’s the nature of modern storytelling that takes so long to prepare for the audience running up against human nature and wanting to have the story told now, damnit, and in a lot of ways it’s unavoidable. But it’s still always going to be rough.

Strangely, what I’m reminded of most right now is Ralph Bakshi’s 1978 Lord of the Rings animated monstrosity. I saw it a few years after the Jackson movies, after I’d read the book, and thank God for that, because on top of all the *cough* interesting directorial choices, they ended the story at Helm’s Deep. And to be clear it apparently was never advertised as a Part I. There’s actually a truly hilarious review (still available here, but with all the screenshots replaced by the ravages of time by placeholder images of how an old-timey family is happy because they eat lard, you’ll want to go to the Wayback Machine for the proper full effect.) A sample:

One of the side-effects of making Gandalf and Frodo go for a walk in the night air is this: when Gandalf discovers Sam eavesdropping, Sam isn't just outside the window (a sensible place for a gardener to be); he is, in fact, hiding behind a lone bush next to a stream where Gandalf and Frodo happen to walk. My question is this: what was Sam doing, in the middle of the night, hiding behind a bush, next to a stream? Or do I really want to know? Curiously, the filmmakers never get around to telling us who Sam is, or what his relationship is to Frodo. I guess they assume everyone already knows. But if you're not going to bother with telling the story, why bother with making the film?

Anywho, not to rob those of you feeling it of your grief and disappointm, but does it help to know it could have been worse? Or at least distract you to remember this hilarious ... thing ... exists?

I’m sure I’ll see the show in the upcoming weeks or months. Just now, I’ve just started a new job and am working quite hard in training for it, and am generally worn out. No room for anything new I’m afraid, and in any event I wanted to read the book and rewatch the first season first anyway. No use wasting a first viewing before I’m emotionally ready for it. I hope you all either enjoy it or at least enjoy not enjoying it together.

#good omens #marta blathrs #lord of the rings #spoilers #hopefully not but just to be safe

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fair-dinkum-mechanic · 1 year

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I have failed in all I’ve wanted to do. Shouting into the void, I know. But the older I get the more I understand. Love isn’t anything that matters. Especially in our lives as gay men. We all want it, of course we do, but we toss it aside for carnal pleasure, we are animals after all. I’m even guilty of it, I speak this as I know it’s true. I’ve lived it.

There’s gentleness out there. I know it because I’ve had it from others and it’s within me.

But as a person in the world, I have failed. I have failed as the worlds nature is at its core, cruel. The world is cruel and uncaring. I grew up very sheltered, and very privileged, so I didn’t see the cruelty of the world early on. Perhaps that’s why I’m so unprepared for it.

Heartstopper was sweet, it was, but I look at it and I know that’s not the reality we live in. I couldn’t enjoy it because I know it’s not what happens, I know it’s more about material than heart.

I am tired of sex. I don’t want to do it anymore. I fade away when I do it. What’s the point. It’s so menial. It’s nothing. You build up and up to a boiling point and say “fuck yeah” twenty times and then you have a blank few seconds before you head off to repeat the same cycle again. It’s nothing. But it’s everything. To the world it is everything.

I sold myself to it once. I thought I was taking what I wanted. Pleasure. But it was too late and realised the world was actually taking from me. And those pieces of me were lost.

Maybe those are the pieces I needed to not fail as Marc. Maybe if I’d held onto them, I’d be okay right now.

Maybe the world sees me wanting to care for others as a weakness and is trying to harden me up, and make me cold. I wish it would succeed. I wish it would do it. Why is the scared little boy inside of me so strong.

I can give the grandest gestures of love without even thinking that they’re grand. I can and have travelled tens of thousands of miles for love, but at the end of the day, what matters is what’s right in front of you.

My heart has been eroded. And instead of being steel underneath it’s just tender and gooey and can’t keep its shape. So it just melts. Slowly.

I don’t want anything. I just don’t want to be in pain anymore. That’s all I want. I want the pain to stop. I need the pain to stop. But all the world tells me is that the pain is my fault, and that the pain is here to stay. Endure. Feel it sting your bones. Because it won’t change. Learn to love the pain. I can hug others through theirs. I can be with them and understand it, but I can’t fight my own. It’s cruel.

“I am in pain” “I’m so sorry, I know how you must feel, I hate seeing you in pain.”

“I am in pain.” “That’s your fault. Deal with it and cope.”

I wish I could. I wish I could shove it down and cope. But I am broken. My brain is diseased, with bpd. I’ll never be able to do that.

I am so sorry to everyone I have failed. I hope I have made you feel loved and valued at least a little bit.

I am so sorry. I am so so sorry. And no amount of sorry will fix or make up for my failings as a kind human being. No sorrys will change the world.

I was blind to the worlds true nature. But I my eyes were opened and I am scared. I am scared and I want to go home.

I am so sorry that I’m so scared. I want to go home. I want a hug.

But hold me down. Use me. My body belongs to the earth. The earth must use it.

Please if you need a hug, come to me. I would like to give you a hug. Just a hug. I’ll hold you through the dark. I know how cold it is in here. I know how the mind shows you images you can’t escape, even with a warm hug. But I am here. I’ll hold you through them. If I have to hold you for weeks I will. Just feel that it’s not cruel. I won’t be cruel. There’s so much more.

Please hug me. Please make the demons go away. Make my mind forget the grid. Rescue me. Please put me in the warm. That’s all I want. I want to be warm for others, I want to be in a world where love comes first. Not sometimes, but always. I don’t want to live in a world where love does not come first. It’s not for me.

I understand anger at me. It’s the world working through others, to pull me into line. To remind me of my place. To mould me into what nature wants.

I don’t think I can be okay. I don’t think my world is mine. It belongs to the dark now.

As someone who is always there perhaps it’s time for others to discard me, as they can cope with the world and how it is. And so I close my eyes. And I go to sleep. And the dark keeps going. It keeps swirling. It never stops.

I hope my love was good enough for this world. I hope it doesn’t fade.

Perhaps I am too difficult. Too risky. Too burdensome.

No matter what I type I cannot accurately describe my pain.

Love.

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

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Androphobia

Requested? No Word Count: 7014

An Android attempts to offer comfort to someone with sleeping trouble.

Androphobia [an·drow·fow·bee·uh]; Fear of or aversion to men. A related concept is misandry, the hatred of men, but not necessarily fear of them.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

Every woman or female born member of society has experienced an off putting encounter with a man.

This is not to be entirely blamed on men- not as a whole, no. But individuals, the ones you run into on your way out of the grocery store, the ones who stop you on the streets, they are the ones to blame. Some women have the guts to tell them off. Not an easy task with the given anxiety, but one to take pride in for the capability that comes with it. Some women stay quiet, rush away as fast as their polite feet can take them and hope someone will see the problem. They usually don’t. And some women are outliers, tricking their ways out of interactions with these men one way or another, and to them I take my hat off.

There are men who are easily construed as monsters, when in the dead of night their silhouettes flash beneath the tallest of streetlights. And there is no reason to not believe them as such right then and there, for as spoken by our Lady Galadriel, “the hearts of men are easily corrupted.” And any look into statistics will back up this fear, any personal experience, any hug that’s gone on just a bit too suspiciously long, any catching of those wandering eyes and it’s easy to feel in your heart that men are not to be trusted. They are not to be confronted, nor left alone with, and they will jump at the opportunity to put down anyone for the validation of other men.

This is the reality of women and men in 2021. It is the same for several in 2039.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

You step out of your old, dusty car. Chips of the dark red paint flake away as the raindrops hit it. Above you, the gloomy, warm gray clouds roll against each other in different shades and sizes, high above the skyscrapers and the stress of the world.

Gathering your belongings for the day, you shut the door with your hip and shoulder everything. Then you make your way towards the Police Department, your work, with the heels of your shoes scuffing against the parking lot.

Across the way, you can see Detective Reid, who rubs his brow while he does his usual slamming of the car door. There’s no point in looking for Hank at this ungodly hour, he’d never be in on time. He’ll probably park his car next to yours as usual- a little too close so it’s hard to squeeze into your own and pull out without causing his vehicle damage, but you never say anything. Not because you are one of the people who feel threatened by Hank as a man- It’s more because you trust Hank as a person, that you’d never bring up the obvious annoyances he places upon you and everyone else. Though, once you had tried.

(“Cars parked a little close, don’t you think?”

“Shut the hell up.”)

The inside of the Department is bustling. A female Android brushes past you briskly, the others at the front desk all seemingly click clacking away in their own brains. Even months after they’ve gained independence, it’s not uncommon for you to remember how they were before. How still and lifeless they were. And looking back on it, it was awfully sad. They seem busier now, more alive and fast. A strange image, in your mind, but not an unwelcomed one.

You reach your desk in the lobby, on the right side of the room slightly separated from the officers. You’re a psychologist, so it’s not plausible for you to be seated next to bias. Instead you’re in your own corner, with a rather cluttered desk on the top and empty rows of drawers. You do, however, keep a small japanese cherry blossom tree on the top, courtesy of Hank, though his has all but fully withered at this point.

And then you’re ready to start your day. Pull out your chair, click your pen and type away reports and notes on the computer to send to the detectives. You don’t have any meetings scheduled today, so there’ll be no need to prepare questions or anything of the sort. Just an easy day.

And then...

As you and I, the dear reader, have already discussed, finding men to be generally scary is an easy task. And even though you are smart enough to know that it’s simply not possible to truly believe that every man or male presenting individual is terrible, or has done terrible things, or has experienced the desire to do something terrible, there are times where you can’t help the cautiousness. You can’t help the flinch, the distrust, the physical distance, the hand in your pocket grasping for anything to use in self defense. Seeing men like Detective Reid in power, brutish and given guns and easily agitated, certainly doesn’t help.

So when you swish your chair around and come to a stand, your heart drops. You’re looking into the presence of someone tall, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. A man.

[Sort of.]

“Good morning, Doctor L/N.”

“Connor,” you breathe out, eyes flitting down as you attempt to quiet the thump thump thumping of your heart in your throat. “I- I didn’t-”

“Your heart race has increased. You appear stressed, Doctor L/N.”

He cocks his robotic head to the side, his eyebrows creasing as the literal gears in his head turn.

“You just startled me,” you admit, grabbing the back of your chair and moving it over as an excuse to create a bit of distance between you and the [possible] threatening force. “What is it, Connor?”

Now, for context, you and he were not considered close. You’ve spoken a few times, though never as friends, only friendly. You remember seeing him last Winter, when he would stand out in the snow outside the station, just gazing up after Hank had already returned to his own home. You remembered how he was different from the other Androids, besides being more advanced to begin with. You’d never said anything about that. It was obvious the only person it would’ve really mattered to, Hank, was already aware of this. And Hank liked Connor. There was no point in interfering.

In Connor’s eyes, you could really do no wrong. You were smart, intelligent, and diligent in your work. Your job had been threatened by the presence of Androids for years by the time Connor had showed up, but it still appeared that they wouldn’t have done your legacy justice. But despite this, interactions were scarce. You were not friends. You were friendly. And you were always on your guard.

“I was hoping to hear your thoughts on a case Lieutenant Anderson and I have been working on,” Connor tells you. He’s always made efforts to keep eye contact with people, and the tilt of his head tries to follow your eyeline to do so. But it’s never to any avail. “I apologize for the abruptness, but the thought only occured to me last night and I think it could be a good one.”

“Yeah, sure,” you answer. “I can help with that. I’ll get the details from Hank when he comes in.”

“No need,” the Android quickly assures you. When you look up to him for a brief second, you can see his tongue sway against his bottom lip, creating the softest of imprints. His dark eyes glitter like a beatles in the catch from the light above.

He produces a light, manilla colored folder lined inside with papers. “I hope you’ll find all the details you need here,” he explains, offering the file to you.

You take it after a moment, watching his thumb let go in the softest, most normal way possible.

“Thank you, Doctor L/N,” Connor smiles. “I’ll go get you your morning coffee.”

Connor is like a dog in that way. Not in an insulting way, or an obedient way. In a kind way, in a warm way. With his chocolate eyes and the dimples when he smiles, it’s hard not to want to just believe that he is incapable of hurting anyone or anything. Especially a woman.

But when you snap back to reality, you can see his male form. His set back shoulders, the robotic strength, the fact that he was programmed to execute any task he so desires. And then you’re right back on edge, wanting to step back from him until you’re sure you can take a full breath.

It’s easier when he’s taken himself away. You can see him through the glass walls in the kitchen, waiting for the pot to heat up. Doesn’t seem so bad from far away, like most of them do.

You return to the chair and open the file. At first, your eyes flit to the pictures attached at the top- one of a woman that looks so familiar, another of a man whose angry brows cover his eyes. Then they move to the written report, and something clicks.

The woman in the picture was an acquaintance from college. The man next to her was the main suspect, and apparently her lover.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

“Morning Doc,” Hank waves tiredly. Then his tone changes slightly. “The fuck are ya doing at my desk for?”

You push yourself from your lean on the edge of his property anxiously. “I read the report on your case. The Carla Rodriguez one.”

Hank sighs in his classic sigh, tired and grumpy from the morning and being alive. “What about it?” he questions, rummaging through his large bag of prescription pill bottles he’s brought with him every day this year. You suspect Connor has something to do with this.

“I had a... personal relationship with the victim,” you begin, crossing your arms. “I knew her.”

Hank looks at you, bewildered. “You were sleeping with my victim?”

“What? No. What? I- anyway. Carla and I were in college together.”

Hank’s face changes. He leans back with high raised brows in the way he does when processing something.

“The boyfriend did it. I remember him from back then, I think. Real angry guy.”

“You’re sure you know what you’re talkin about?” Hank questions you, though not in an insulting way. You know it’s anything but that.

“I’m sure. I can tell you what you need but you know I can’t testify. You won’t be able to use my bias in your report.”

“But the bias is the whole point.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, along with your shoulders. It’s the universal symbol for ‘I don’t know what to tell you’.

“You talked to Connor about this?”

“Well, no. I- he wanted my opinion but I didn’t tell him this part.”

Hank glances around. “Where's he at anyway?”

You shrug again. You’re thinking about the disposable coffee cup on your desk, left there by Connor a few hours ago, that you’d never brought yourself to touch.

“Run it by the Android before we do anything,” Hank advises you. “Nutjob’s got this whole system in his head.”

“Yeah,” you mutter as Hank seats himself. “That guy’s weird.”

“Tellin’ me?” Hank groans.

And the rest of the morning you spend avoiding Connor, thinking at your desk, barely doing your job while you let yourself get lost in thought. You’re not usually like this. You’re very professional at work- you love this job. The thrill, the learning about criminals and their rehabilitation- it makes you feel so tranquil. Complete, even.

But knowing a victim, knowing the perpetrator, still adapting to the change of Androids looking happy for once, knowing Hank pretends you’re the child he lost- it... it...

You snap your drawer shut.

What’s wrong with you today?

You huff out dry air. When you turn ever so slightly, you can see Hank at his desk, eyes already on you with concerned and empathetic brows. Seeing him calms you down a little, at least makes you feel more in the real moment. After a moment, you turn back straight. Then you smooth back your hair, and open a your file again.

“Doctor L/N?”

You look up slowly, recognizing the boyish, sturdy voice of Connor. Sure enough, there he is. Tall, looking down at you with his warm, brown eyes. They remind you of an excited, loyal dog. Yeah, you think, Connor seems like a dog person.

And then you catch the sharpness of how broad his shoulders are, how little effort it would take for him to kill you, or pin you down, or come at you in the dark.

“Can I speak with you candidly, Doctor L/N?”

“You...may,” you say slowly. Connor begins to squat, until he is level with your eyeline, though he’s over on the other side of your desk. From your view, your cherry blossoms pink petals stand out against the paleness of his skin, and then the darkness of his hair.

“I heard what you said earlier to the Lieutenant,” he begins.

Truthfully, your eyes flicker around his face, mostly between his lips and his nose and his eyes. They’re all so realistic. Well, obviously that was the point in his creation, but still. They’re so human. Connor is human. Even the way he seems to move his mouth, like his lips are just a little dry, is human. Such a strange detail. Perhaps you would never have noticed it if he hadn’t gotten this close.

“When?” you question.

“About 3 hours ago, about the file I gave you.”

Your eyes snap away. Connor’s own eyes follow your movement.

“I know that this must be difficult for you-”

“Connor,” you sigh, slightly exasperated, but still holding it together. Your eyes close like you can’t bear to look at anything in the present moment right now. You must be trying to pretend that you’re somewhere else. “I’ll be alright. This was in my job description.”

The Android’s eyebrows knit for a split second, confused. “Overseeing the psychology behind your friends death was in your job description?”

And it’s a genuine question from him. That’s what makes it so hard to contain your laughter, no matter how frustrated or overwhelmed you are right now.

“Yeah,” you finally muster with a light chuckle. “Apparently.” Then you’re back to business. “This is my job. I’ll be alright. Thank you for your concern.”

“I just considered that, since you’ve been on the news before, the suspect could know that you’re involved.”

“So?” you ask, slightly more snappy than intended.

“He may know you’re here and subsequently attempt to cause you harm.”

There are two conflicting sides in your brain right now. The first one says: Now think about this. How could he harm you in a place full of cops? It’s not like he knows where you live or anything. How could he even find that out? When they bring him in, he’ll be in custody the whole time. Gavin won’t let him out of those handcuffs. Everything will be just fine.

And the other part? It shows you a dark, masculine figure, looming over you. Police department or not, he is there. He will cause you grief and harm, do something so terrible to you you could not even fully imagine it enough to anticipate yourself.

And, despite your better judgement, and to your full awareness, you listen to the second half.

“Okay, so,” you breathe out. “So what are you saying?”

Connor’s eyes draw to his left in a stutter, his mouth parting as if he’s in consideration. “The Lieutenant and I had talked about... having you stay in a... safer place.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. “What do you mean by that?”

Connor looks so human in this moment. it’s so apparent, and piercing in this exact second. The details in his eyes, slightest of blemishes on his cheekbones.

Connor leans in, his eyebrows raising. Subconsciously, you lean back ever so slightly in response.

“We were thinking of taking you to the Lieutenants place.” He sees your eyes widen, getting ready to give a vocal response. “It’s a very safe place,” Connor promises. “I can assure you there are many rooms to your liking.”

You take a minute, looking the Android right in his warm, hopeful, perfectly symmetrical eyes. “Connor, I’m not interested in having this discussion right now.”

“It’s just-”

“Back off,” you snap. It’s assertive. Something you don’t usually do towards masculine presenting beings.

As soon as you say it, you regret it, however. The person across from you just looks so heartbroken, almost. His big brown eyes, the ones that remind you of a loyal dog, are looking right at you. How could you not feel bad for snapping at Connor? Sweet Connor, who doesn’t take pleasure in hurting people no matter how much you convince yourself he does.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

The Carla Rodriguez murder case went on for two more days. Her boyfriend, unfortunately, was not yet found. Hank was working on obtaining a warrant based on your instincts that would give him access to search family members houses for the man. Things were becoming focused.

Each night you went home, you struggled to sleep. You did in fact, find out that Connor may have been onto something when he suggested the consideration of safety. You indeed stayed up later than usual, using both locks on your dirty apartment door for once. It was hard to fall asleep. Whenever you did, it became all too easy for you to imagine a solid, big, broad shouldered figure standing over the foot of your bed, waiting to strike.

A man, as usual.

Ironically, you did feel better when Hank- a man- would come into the station. And then there was Connor, who was somewhere between a puppy and a wolf, half following Hank, half fully capable of loading and discharging a gun. Connor made you feel safe too, but only by association. It felt bad to think about him after the snapping that occurred Thursday, but it could’ve made you feel worse to act unprofessionally in the work place. It was best you try to forget it, and try to forget that Connor has unlimited and invincible memory.

On Sunday, you and Hank had your weekly scheduled lunch. Nothing fancy, just fast food from a food truck by the train tracks. You’ll both probably get burgers, except Hank will try to add lettuce and some vegan bullshit to convince you he’s sticking to his diet. Of course he will.

You throw the keys to your locker in the backroom into your desk drawer, and slip it closed. Across the floor, Hank is already ahead of you, tugging on his crappy jacket and somehow standing patiently and grumpily at the same time.

“Ready to go?” you ask as you approach him, your own jacket in hand.

“Yeah, just waitin’ for the kid,” Hank replies casually.

“The kid?”

“I’m ready to go, Lieutenant,” the enthusiastic voice of Connor rings out. He has one of those voices where you can tell when he’s happy and smiling too, and he is in this very moment.

Nobody ever joins you and Hank. You knew Hank had taken Connor to the truck before, but that was just between them, and this was just between you. An odd decision on Hank’s part to make such a change.

“Alright,” Hank calls back. Then he turns to you, the smallest of knowing grins on his face. “Ready when you are, Doctor.”

You just nod your head and start walking out to Hank’s car, unsure of what to do think. In the end, you decide to just not think at all.

“What are you doing this for?” you’d ask Hank as you were walking, when the Android known as Connor was out of earshot.

“What? You got a problem with Connor?” You shake your head no. “Well good. Because besides bein’ a freak he’s perfectly fine.”

Yep. Thanks, Hank.

The drive over is silent, besides Hank’s music. You like his taste, but it doesn’t make you feel less tense around Connor. On the other hand, Connor is completely oblivious of said tension. You can see him in the rearview mirror, smiling and looking out the window every now and again.

Once arriving to the scene, Connor gets out first. You click your seatbelt away, about to pull the handle open when you notice Hank hasn’t moved at all.

“You coming?”

“Mm,” Hank fake thinks, flipping through his cd cases. “Nah.”

“Well then... well then are you even hungry?”

“I got food back at the office,” he sighs, not even looking up at you. “Indian from last night. Gonna wreak havoc on the ol’ plumbing.”

“Then what did you bring me here for?” you question finally, developing a tension headache from how often you’ve been knitting your brows together lately.

Hank looks up and over, an almost offended expression on his face. You can see it in his wide old eyes, the angry eyebrows, the slightly opened mouth.

“Because I’m trying to create a warm and loving social circle.”

“You one time told me die because I ate your jar of pickles!” you cry. “Oh my god- Hank, is this about me and Connor? Is that it? You want us to get along?”

“Yeah, and what if I do?” Hank turns to you fully, putting an angry hand on the steering wheel to clutch something.

“It doesn’t matter!” you exclaim. “It literally doesn’t matter at all!”

Hank is quiet. You can see his beady, angry eyes on you, his jaw clenching. “Get the fuck outta my car,” he says at last.

“Gladly,” you mutter. You open the door and slam it closed.

Looking across the wet, rainy street, you can see Connor looking up at the sign of the food truck known as Chicken Feed innocently. You breathe out, feeling the heat from the previous ‘discussion’ beginning to melt away.

Okay, Y/N, you tell yourself. Just go talk to him.

You begin your walk across the street, hearing the light tapping of the rain hitting the asphalt all around you. His back is getting closer and closer. You still have a chance to turn around.

“Hey, Connor,” you say lightly.

“Hello, Doctor L/N,” Connor greets in return warmly.

“Whatcha... thinking about eating, there?” you ask, both of you knowing damn well Androids can’t eat.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. Then he shrugs, and very genuinely says, “I guess I could have some french fries.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some.”

And you do. And you feel so stupid while ordering it. The guy in charge, Gary, looks at you with an ‘are you sure?’ expression on his face, but you only continue with the order, confirming that, yes, you are sure. Then you and Connor sit next to each other in silence, waiting for your food to be ready. You pretend to be very interested in a stain on one of the back menus for about three straight minutes.

“Here you go,” Gary hands you the food. You take the bags and speed off immediately to an umbrella by the place. Even though you’re essentially powerwalking at about 6 miles per hour, it doesn’t feel fast enough in the moment. Connor is right there beside you the whole time.

“Here’s your fries,” you mutter, pushing the bowl towards him.

“Thank you,” he says, formally. Then Connor just stares down into the bowl.

“I appreciate you paying for this meal, Doctor L/N,” Connor decides to say after another moment. When you look up, you can see he’s leaning down ever so slightly so that he’s closer to your height, and making pretty sturdy eye contact. It’s moments like this that you think you’re talking to Connor’s social programming, and probably not him naturally.

“You don’t have to call me Doctor, Connor,” you breathe. “We’re not at work right now.”

“I apologize. How would you like me to address you then?”

“Well... how would you like to address me?”

Connor thinks for a moment. You can tell because his led is switching between yellow and white. Then the beginning of his eyebrows start twitching, along with the corners of his mouth, just like a human would when they have several thoughts on the tip of their tongue but none of them seem just right. It’s cute when he does it.

“You can just call me Y/N,” you rush out in an attempt to save Connor from quite possibly exploding.

He does the twitching once more, then looks up to the top of the umbrella without moving his head. “And, is this outside of the workplace or in it as well?”

“What would you prefer?”

His led goes yellow again. He looks back to you. “That depends whether or not you consider us friends, Doctor L/N.”

This takes you back. You’re silent, stunned, looking at him with slightly widened eyes for a few seconds- maybe a whole minute- before you make the decision to look at your burger and change the subject.

“How’s been adjusting to life as a free man?” you ask, unwrapping the foil from your warm food.

Connor adapts to the subject change after a few seconds, and you know that he’s seen right through you. “It’s strange,” he tells you, deep in thought, but sincere. “But, people seem happy.”

“Are you happy?” you prompt further, biting a big bite into the meat.

Connor thinks again. He thinks a lot. “Yes,” he decides. “I suppose I feel alive,” he admits. It sounds like a confession, and when he turns his head to look over to you, he sees your eyes are already on him. “Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” you repeat in question. “I... guess I am, overall.”

“Do you enjoy working as a criminal and forensic expert?”

Now it’s your turn to think. You swallow down your bite. “Yeah, I think so. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. And now I have it, and I’m comfortable and all. So yes... And you? As a detective?” You bite into the burger again.

“Well, it is what I was created for,” Connor tells you, with an almost charismatic, joking tone. It looks like he’s smiling a little, too. Cute. “I think so. Working with Lieutenant Anderson has gotten better.”

“God, I remember when you first came in,” you roll your eyes. “Hank was all in a mood. One of the grouchiest days for him. But he likes you now.”

Connor watches you pull the burger away from your face. He’s thinking again, but also admiring your features from up close. He doesn’t usually get to do this with you. The proof is in the lack of response to the ‘would you consider us friends?’ question.

“You know,” Connor says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice for the millionth time. “I really admire how talented you are in your line of work.”

You feel heat in not just your cheeks, but in the rest of your face as well, as if you have a very sudden fever. You decide to keep your face down, trying to naturally make it not look like you’re using your burger as a shield. “Thank you,” you respond.

The heat begins to subside, so you look back up to him. “I admire your...” and you can’t finish the sentence. Not because you can’t think of anything to admire. You know you had a good one in mind to say to him. But when you look up at his boyish face, with the innocent smile and the comforting eyes and the most human details in his skin, you lose your train of thought.

It seems too late and rude to continue by the time you regain it, so you just decide to leave it and eat your burger as quickly as possible.

“Are you done with your fries?” you ask, as Connor looks down at the untouched basket.

“Yes, thank you.”

You don’t even look into the waste of 2 dollars as you speed walk to the trash can and dump it full of everything. Then you hop across the street, Connor right behind you.

Getting back into Hank’s car makes you roll your eyes. It’s not that you’re mad with Connor anymore so much- not that you would describe the feeling as mad in the first place. You’re not even sure you’re ‘mad’ at Hank so much anymore. It’s more like you’re in the area that you previously had a yelling match in, so all that energy is still there. So stupid.

“Hey, you two,” Hank greets, though to you it sounds condescending.

“Hello,” Connor chirps back.

You just shoot Hank a glare.

“How was lunch?” The old man prompts, holding your eye contact knowingly the entire time.

“It was fine,” you tell him.

“Fine?”

“Yeah,” you practically seethe. “Just fine.”

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

You stay in your house for another two days. Sleeping has become far more difficult, though you’d never openly admit it. Hank can see it in your face. There’s dark circles under your eyes, far more noticeable than before. Your eyes are dragging themselves down, along with the rest of your body which seems to be in a constant slump.

You’re like a zombie. You’re just carrying yourself around, mindlessly doing your tasks while you try not to nod off at work. Hank hasn’t said anything. He just watches you from afar, not knowing how to apologize because he’s never been able to pull himself into one.

Connor hasn’t said anything either. Hank’s pet has continued his daily routines around the precinct, going where he’s told and sitting on the other side of the older man. You haven’t been observing them much lately. Been a bit too preoccupied with the threat of sleep paralysis to do anything that you find matters in a social sense.

Carla’s case is still open. Her boyfriend is still out there, watching and waiting. Maybe for you. Maybe for some other innocent woman. You keep picturing him towering over you, his shoulders looming, strong jaw twitching with anger. Those masculine brows, defined with the intent to strike at you. Kill you, like your old friend.

Finally, on the fourth day of little to know sleep, you fell asleep at your desk. Completely zonked out, your head slumped against the surface, squishing your cheek in the process. Connor jumped up from his seat, Hank following shortly after. But there was no threat, you were simply resting. Once the two realized this, they calmed a little. Hank opted to send Connor over to you to check you out, crossing his arms as he got ready to observe.

The Android creeps over. Your breathing is steady. So is your heartrate. You’re not in shock or anything at all. You’re not even hurt.

“Y/N?” he prompts lightly, now crouched to be close enough to your ear so he can whisper. His chocolate eyes glance around the precinct, looking for anyone who might have noticed you to try and save you some embarrassment. Then he glances towards the Captain in his office, and he knows he has to hurry himself so you don’t get caught and reprimanded.

“Doctor L/N?”

No response. Connor looks back at Hank, who shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly with little help.

“Doctor L/N, you have to wake up,” he tells you, poking the back of your slumped shoulder.

You were asleep, yes, but apparently not very deeply. You stir from your slumber, raising your head and your mousy appearance to look over at Connor with confused eyes.

“What happened?” you strain, stretching. Connor detects a bit of drool on the corner of your lips.

“You fell asleep at work,” Connor explains slowly.

“I did?” you squint, obviously still out of it.

“You have... drool on your lips.”

You wipe the left corner. “The other side,” Connor gestures lightly to his own lips. “Yes. You got it.”

“Was I out for long?” you look around, adjusting to the so very bright lights of the building.

“No,” Connor answers in that sweet, sweet voice of his. “Maybe a minute, or two.”

“Oh,” you say, your eyes wandering around.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

That night, it rains.

Thunder echoes, with ripples of light from the lightning that bears across the sky like great claw hands.

You watch the view out your window from the middle of your bed for a long time. You’re curled up in a ball on the blankets, not even under them. You’re just there, watching the sky that reflects in your eyes.

A sudden stir in you gives you a change of heart. Something you can’t explain to the fullest extent, something not even I, the one in charge of relaying all that’s happening to you, could explain the exact feeling. It’s like the snapping of a rubber band at 2:15 in the morning.

You can’t stay in this apartment anymore. Not even two locks are enough to protect you. Not your kitchen knives, or the gun given to you from the department for self defense. None of it seems like enough, because all of those things are used after something happens. They don’t prevent it.

You’re in a hurry. The comfiest pajamas you own are soaked in the salty rain water and protected only by the simplest of winter coats you own. It’s nice, though not appropriate for the current weather of course. Your hair gets drenched fast. Every individual drip that falls from the tip of your nose is felt, like you’re more hyperaware than usual.

Now you’ve arrived at a house. A one story, fairly inexpensive home with a garage and recognizable old car out front. As you approach, you can already hear the barking of a dog, see a neighbor turn their lights on briefly to observe you, and feel the shivering of your knuckles as they tap on the door sporadically.

Come on, Hank, you think. Please protect me. Please do this for me.

And, believe me, Hank Anderson would’ve done it had he been awake. But he hadn’t been, and so he didn’t answer the door. Instead, the door swings open, and inside you see an Android.

A tall one, with soft facial features. He has long, dark eyelashes framing dark eyes, surrounded by dark hair. He’s clean and clear cut, very put together. It’s Connor, Hank’s pet that you’ve never been able to get the hang of knowing. And he’s as shocked as you are.

Your drenched hair, shivering body, distant look in your eyes. Though, Connor’s unsure of how he would appear if he had to show up to anyone’s house at 2:34am. Probably unwell. Probably a little bit like you.

“Doctor L/N,” he says, though it seems mostly to himself. His parched lips barely move, though you notice how pink they look in comparison to everything else right now.

“Can I come in?”

Connor is still for a few seconds, obviously still processing your appearance. For what, you don’t know. Must’ve been one of the few things he’s simply unable to calculate. But then he moves himself to the side, and you carry yourself in.

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything is so much warmer. You haven’t been to Hank’s place in months, but it still feels as homey as it did before. It’s cleaner than it was a year ago. There’s more pictures on the walls, more clutter lining the shelves. He’s starting to care about things again. That’s good.

“What are you doing here?” you suddenly ask, turning around to face Connor.

That’s right- what is he doing here? He and Hank couldn’t be living together, could they? Or is... or is it that Hank is pretending Connor is someone else, too?

Connor’s led goes yellow, then blue, then back to yellow. “Lieutenant Anderson has offered me a place to stay until I’m ready to go on myself,” he explains, though the way it looks at you makes it seem like Connor doesn’t want to tell you this. Like he feels the need to explain himself.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You wipe your face, smearing your leftover makeup from your eye with the rain water. It burns, but you can’t feel it over the cold. “I uh- um... I’ve been having trouble- trouble sleeping.”

Connor’s lips close, and he looks at you in understanding as you stand there, now feeling your own pressure of having to explain yourself.

“Just like... at my place I can’t- can’t sleep. Not a lot of it.”

Connor knows he shouldn’t, but it’s right there on the very tip of his tongue. It’s so close to just spilling out, until finally it does, all at once. He’s too curious to try and stop it. “Why?”

“I just- I can’t-”

You’re looking everywhere. The floor, the wall, covering your eyes with your arm or your hand, shifting back and forth between feet, making a soggy spot on the floor from your dripping clothes.

“Can’t sleep.”

When you look up to Connor again, you feel better. Still panicked, but like you’re not in trouble. His eyes are so soft. They’re so human, and comforting. He looks at you like he understands, and like he’s not upset. You can see why Hank would pretend he is who he is now. But there’s no one for you to pretend who Connor is. He’s just Connor. And he’s better than you.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

Connor lets you wear one of his sets of identical clothes. It’s a grey t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Your hair is still wet, but Connor doesn’t say anything. He lets you sit on the couch and watch one of Hank’s basketball recordings while he goes to make tea.

He brings it to you and sets it down on the coffee table in front, but like days ago, you can’t bring yourself to touch it. Connor’s made himself a cup too, but doesn’t drink it. It’s deadly silent, the only light coming from the faint glow of the tv, the only sound coming from the biases of those annoying sports commentators.

“Connor?” you whisper hoarsely, turning your body to face him.

He looks over at you, at full attention. Such a soft boy.

“Do you think I’m afraid of anything?”

Connor’s led goes yellow. It flickers in circles until finally he says, “What do you mean, Y/N?”

You look down at your hands. “W-when I try to sleep, I see someone,” you say, not bearing to look at anyone from that gender for a moment. “He never leaves me alone. I feel like I- like I’m seeing this thing everywhere. I can’t avoid it. It won’t leave me alone.”

“What is it?” Connor prods gently, leaning in in that innocent, but curious way he does.

You open your mouth like you’re going to answer, but then your mouth goes dry. Instead, you just shrug your shoulders in a weak attempt of lying.

“Um... why are you still awake?” you ask instead.

“Androids don’t need to sleep,” Connor explains to you. “We just power down to conserve energy, but I don’t need as much as others.”

A light puff of air escapes your nose in time with the flickering of the corners of your lips. “Sounds like you’re bragging,” you tease for a second.

Then it goes quiet.

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” you hear Connor’s voice say clearly. “At least, not that I’ve seen. You’re very diligent in your work.”

You take the compliment. It warms your chest for a moment, but the pit inside you is not so easily gotten rid of.

Your nails scrape against each other, breaking while you pick at one of your index fingers. “I think I have like... this fear of men. Fear of something.”

Connor’s led goes yellow.

“Androphobia, also known as the fear of male presences, affects nearly one third of the current female population.”

Connor watches you continue to pick at your nails. The memory of you standing at the door step, shivering like a kitten, drowning in the rain water stays on his mind. “Is this what you think you have, Y/N?” he asks, though this time it’s far more soft.

It sounds like he really cares.

You look up to him, your eyes glossing over from stress and the incoming wave of tears you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I can assure you, Doctor L/N, you are safe here,” Connor continues, holding eye contact as he speaks. “I won’t let any kind of harm get to you.”

The tears in your eyes seem less violent now. Like they’re disappearing already. And that’s how the story ends, in fact. With you, looking up at Connor, seated on Hank’s couch with your hair dripping around you- him promising not to hurt you. It ends on the silence that follows, right between the stare the two of you share.

* ✭ ˚ ✧* ･ﾟ * ✭ ˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ *

This is the first thing I’ve proof read. Also one of the longest things I’ve written somehow? It was fun. I apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language.

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glitxhwayventeen · 2 years

Text

Two Different Worlds

Characters: Jeonghan x female reader

Genre: angst central, CEO!jeonghan,

Warnings: mentions of sex work, mentions of sex/sexual talk, cursing, self image issues (both male and female), depression/mental illness, addiction talk (sort of?), upper/lower classes collide, societal expectations/tabooness of of sexual work if that’s a thing?, i dont know man I’m tired i just wanted to get this out. I’ll look it over tomorrow. Let me know if there’s more i missed.

Author’s Note: please know that i don’t think there’s anything wrong with sex work. This is modeled after one of my friend’s original thoughts while starting out in the industry. Sex work is real work and should be treated as such! This is not intended to bring the occupation down at all!

Disclaimer: This is just a story! Nothing in it is real not was it intended to harm anyone! This story is just for a good read!

Summary: Sometimes the stars align and people from two different worlds end up together by random chance because fate happened to be on their side. This is not one of those times…

Italics/Red= Jeonghan, Normal Text= Reader, Purple/Bold/Italics= Both

Every night it’s always the same. You got up, put on a sorry excuse for a smile to go with your painfully high heels, and walked out your door wondering for the millionth time if tonight would be the last night you saw the inside of your shitty apartment.

Then again, what would’ve been the point of caring if you did come back or not anymore? It’s not like you mattered to anyone.

As you walked down to the corner of the darkened road to get to your usual spot you worked nearly every night, you couldn’t help but wonder how your life managed to get to that point.

“Would you like a ride my princess?” A bittersweet voice beckoned you from his newly pulled up car, cigarette smoke thickly exhaling from the opened passenger side window like you were both in some sort of dingy dive bar.

“Why don’t I always my prince?”

“Fuck! I-I’m so close!” You whimpered as quietly as you could so that you didn’t have to deal with your own annoying voice, letting the strong male stationed above you pick up his pace to get nearer to his own release.

He loved hearing you whine for him. He loved seeing you so vulnerable and open. He never saw you outside of the few hours you got together a couple nights a week but every time he saw you was like the first time: new, anxious, lustful.

As you felt him punch deeper and deeper into your cunt, you caught your panties and shoes piled into a small bunch on the floor. It was an oddity to you as you were only ever without clothes while you were working with him. You didn’t trust anyone else enough.

Being near you was too much sometimes. There were moments where he felt the need to stop and just stare at you, but he knew if he did that he’d lose you. And he couldn’t lose someone he worked so hard to move into his life.

You told yourself that your work wasn’t hard work, just tiresome work. But with Jeonghan, it never really felt like work at all.

And though he wasn’t an addict, he definitely had an addiction. One he couldn’t get enough of: you. Every time he was with you he felt whole. Every time he was with you he got those middle school butterflies in his gut that he swore would eat him away at any minute.

You felt a set of skilled yet delicate hands bring themselves lower to where you really wanted them and on instinct lifted your back in ecstasy when they began to apply pressure.

“Go on then love, why don’t you come for me huh?” He cocked his head, clearly pushing off his own pleasure to be sure you got your own.

God, how could it feel like work with him? Jeonghan always made you his priority. He always put you first before himself. So with him you felt cared for, protected, and loved. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I-I’m coming Hannie!” You all but yelled the magical words he longed to hear in his ear as you lost touch with reality due to a burst of white behind your flawless eyelids. God only knows what he wouldn’t give to have you call out his nickname that only you called him everyday.

You had even made little fantasies in your head about a life you could’ve had with him in another time line while you were with some of your rougher customers.

You always swore you hated your features as they weren’t considered conventional. But he took in every which one with a sense of urgency as though he’d never see them again. He never knew if/when you’d end your arraignment or get bored with him and his inconsistent lifestyle. Your beauty was beyond compare in his eyes, so he did all he could to absorb it for as long as he could.

You pictured a big house with a tall white picket fence in an upscale boring neighborhood you figured he no doubt already lived in by himself now.

He watched your face contort into oblivion while pushing off his own for just a tad longer, anything so he could take in your attractive features for even just a few seconds longer before you left him for the night.

You thought of some cute little kids close in age playing in a playroom not too far from the entry way of your warm welcoming home you shared together.

Because as much as he wanted you to stay with him, you never did. You didn’t like men like him or the suited façade they represented. You didn’t want a family type life, you wanted freedom. As much as he wanted to pretend you’d want a life with him, he knew you didn’t.

You created a little girl who (while looking like you) had her whole life and a bucket full of dreams ahead of her to accomplish and a little boy that was the spitting image of his father (both in handsomeness and in charm.)

Finally, after what seemed like eternity to a desperate man’s falling hourglass, he too lost himself to the pit of no return. But not before thinking about how good you would look under him every night in your shared home when he made love to you.

You saw yourself emerging from your kitchen with a beaming smile on your face with a kiss locked and loaded to greet your loving husband Jeonghan, who you had setting an old timely briefcase down on your expensive mahogany kitchen table after coming home from a long day. And you’d imagine taking him up to your shared room and letting him have his way with you to relax and unwind the both of you. To free you from the restraints you had mentally put on yourselves.

Being with you was the only time he felt free. You always said your soul was just too bright for this world and that was why you didn’t mix well with daytime society. You always told him to be careful so he wouldn’t get burnt.

You even constructed a fake family pet that your wonderful little fantasy family took on little whimsical walks at dusk together, hand in hand with your guards and your own personal bite and flare down to be near nonexistent, because you were just one loving adoring family. Because you were all just so happy and bright.

But being with you was the only time he felt joy. So he gave into your light and he readied himself to extinguish the flames.

You could picture a scene so joyful and so inviting that you were not only excited to wake up in the morning to meet them, but even grateful to a god you weren’t sure you believed in that they existed and cared for you as well as they did. But that was all just pretend. It was all made up and could not/never would be.

It took him a few moments to regain his semblance of self, his earth shattering orgasm still making his head spin and freeze all at once. And just as he came to, he realized his time with you was coming to an end.

You see, he was some hot shot CEO for one of the biggest hot shot shipping companies in the entire country. You stood no chance with a man of his means and should have just considered yourself lucky he even looked twice at you to begin with. You knew if anyone knew how much you cared for him they’d never approve and they’d make his life hell for something that want his fault. If anyone knew about what the two of you did together, he could lose everything. You couldn’t have that.

It didn’t matter though as he knew when he brought himself back to reality, he would still try to make sure you were alright anyways. After all, he only really cared about you and your well being now. He couldn’t help it, he was hopelessly in love with you after all.

See, Jeonghan was a busy man with no family to tie him down. But all of it came with a price he hadn’t expected: stress, limelight, expectation. And with that weighing on him he, like you, began his own personal journey in seeking an outlet to relieve it somehow.

When you flashed back to the situation in his car, you insisted he had to get going and that he shouldn’t bother trying with you. You said he was far too important to far too many people to be missing as long as he had been, that he was far too high class of a person to be spending another second of his time in your low class part of town. Plus, you told him in a dry chuckle as you pulled up your panties yourself and wiped yourself down after refusing his always offered help, someone had to maintain his millions.

It wasn’t that he was stuck in the life like you though. Far from it. Jeonghan came from old money and lots of it, something you couldn’t relate to.

Yet he knew when the sentence came out of your mouth that he would trade every cent of his millions in seconds if it meant he got to spend even one more precious moment with you.

And from the stories he had told you during your many sexcapades together, you knew he also came from happiness, something that was even more foreign to you than the crisp $100 bills inside his money clip.

But he could tell saying that aloud would amount to nothing. After all, you didn’t want to associate with the likes of him or his caste. That’s why you once again reminded him to never mention you or your existence to anyone as you pulled your dress back in place and combed your hair through your hands to make yourself more presentable as you got ready to leave. You didn’t want any of his people, (family, friends, or coworkers) to know of or about you and what you did.

You started your way of life because you didn’t have another way to survive. Growing up the way you grew up and being left with the little resources you were left with left you with far too few options. You had no money, no family, no education, and no future.

Though he’d tell his family about you in a heartbeat if he thought you’d be okay with it. He wanted to tell his mom and sister about you the second he met you. He knew once they met you and pushed past the thoughts and stereotypes that were placed around your line of work by society that they’d love you almost as much as he did.

Your time and your ‘love’ was all you had.

Almost.

So you figured if other people had found a way to market it, so could you. And that’s exactly what you did.

None of it mattered in the end though. You would never agree to such a thing, he told himself.

And as much as you wanted to give into your hopes and reason, you had to be realistic of the situation.

Your life was hectic and exciting to you. Why would you want to change your easy lifestyle?

Your life never seemed to get any better. So why would you even think to try?

You didn’t want the corporate life. You lived on the edge. You wanted a type of freedom he couldn’t offer you.

You wouldn’t be accepted in the extravagant life Jeonghan had. You lived a dirty life. You had nothing you could offer.

But you liked it that way.

You were nothing you could offer.

You didn’t want the boring 9/5 job he would’ve happily offered you in place of your current arraignment at one of the many companies he had at his disposal.

Your life was dangerous and unpredictable. It made you stay up all night in high concern for your life and even then you still never knew if you were truly safe.

He would’ve gladly had payed for you to go back to school like you had told him you originally planned on doing at one point but never got the chance.

Sure you’d have loved the idea of Jeonghan taking you far far away from the current life you lived and creating a new one where you had a better risk free world.

He would’ve even payed all your bills and had you moved in with him rent free for the rest of your life if it meant you’d stay with him for good and be his.

Sure you’d gladly have loved to be a stay at home mom who raised the two gorgeous children you had fantasized about.

But you wouldn’t ever be his.

But that wasn’t the reality.

His little fantasies weren’t going to happen. As amazing of a person as you were, you’d probably have laughed in his face if he told you any of them.

Your little fantasies weren’t gonna happen. As nice of a person as he was, Jeonghan would probably have laughed in your face if you had told him of any of them.

He was a heartless richman in your eyes. In your world, he shouldn’t exist.

You were a used up night girl. In his world, people like you didn’t even exist.

Despite your life style differences he wanted you to be together.

Your life style differences meant you had no chance of being together.

His thoughts of one day bringing you home to meet his parents shattered a little more when you gave him a transactional smile after grabbing your payment from him and got out of his car door. He shouldn’t have been as disappointed as he was. He was just one of your many clients after all. Why would you treat him as something different?

Even still, you felt sick to your stomach when he reached in his perfectly dry-cleaned slacks back pocket and pulled out a wad of cash you both knew you desperately needed to survive. So you took it from his grasp and held back your tears with a smile while closing the car door behind you. You were just a whore after all. Why would he treat you as anything different?

In the end, you were never meant to be. You were both from two different worlds after all.

(Last Edited 12/14/22)

#seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt au #svt jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #hannie #seventeen jeonghan

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heavenlyhischier · 3 years

Text

only when you're high - rafe cameron

word count: 4.3k

summary: Rafe only ever talks to you when he's high, and you've eventually had enough.

warnings: angst i guess, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, lil makeout sesh at the end

note: ik this isn't the request but i've been working on this for a while so here ya go <3 this is def not my best writing so dont judge it too harshly

3:53 a.m.

You had been dreaming about your cat taking over a world full of people with fish heads when the incessant ringing from your phone jolted you awake. You blindly flung your hand onto the nightstand, knocking over a half empty water bottle and a bottle of ibuprofen before your fingers grazed the cool screen. You picked up the device, nearly blinding yourself when you opened your eyes to see who was calling you at such an ungodly hour. Once your eyes adjusted to the screen’s brightness, the name ‘Stupid Kook’ was displayed across the top. You hesitantly swiped to answer.

“What in the flying fuck do you want,” You whisper yelled, propping your half-conscious body up with your elbow.

“Hey, baby,” He greeted, his voice dragging as if he was thinking too hard about his words. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

You stopped breathing for a moment, not sure what you were supposed to say to his weird revelation. You had been having a weird thing with Rafe for a few months now. After many drinks, you would often finding yourself making out with him in a secluded area. Despite your random make out sessions, he had never once called you to simply hear your voice. In fact, he hadn’t even called you before. It was usually always a quick ‘wyd’ text at midnight and nothing more.

“That’s weird, you’ve never called me before,” You pointed out, “You’ve also never called me baby before, so what’s that about?”

“Mm, I don’t know. Always wanted to call you that before so why not? What are you up to, baby,” He asked, his words slurring together in a way that could only happen while under the influence.

“You’re high aren’t you,” You sighed. Of course, he was high. You should have known that from the get-go. Rafe Cameron wouldn’t have called you sober; he never even looked at you sober.

A brief silence hung over the line, Rafe’s heavy breathing being the only thing coming through the receiver. “Maybe a little. Had a rough day, so I went to see Barry and now I’m at Topper’s. Talking to you.”

You couldn’t help but let a small smile grace your features; a smile that was gone almost as soon as it came. You let your elbow fall from its position, your head falling back onto the pillow that was still warm from when you were asleep. “How sweet of you. What are you doing, anyways? Shouldn’t you be getting shitfaced and taking some innocent girl to bed?”

He let out an airy laugh before speaking. “The only one I’d like to take to bed is you, and we somehow always stop before it gets to that point. Anyways, it’s just me, Topper, and Kelce, and I started thinking about us in the back of my truck when we were outside. Before I knew what I was doing, you answered the phone.”

Your cheeks flared red as images of Rafe’s hands exploring your body flashed through your mind, the feeling of his ring on your skin igniting something inside of you. His mouth latching onto the sensitive spots of your neck as your moans filled his truck. You let your fingers ghost over your lips as if you could still feel his own on yours. More memories of him exploring your body in every way but the way you wanted him most were running through your mind. Every time you wanted to give in to him, give in to your urges, but you couldn’t.

“You know, I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you and I hate it,” He started, his words still slow, “I hate it because you’ll never let me have you.”

“Rafe,” You groaned, running a hand over your tired face, “I don’t really feel like giving myself to someone who only talks to me when they’re drunk or high. Someone who would rather be caught dead than with a pouge.”

“You know it’s not like that, baby. It’s complicated,” He tried, and you could tell there was a hint of unfamiliar panic in his voice.

“It always is. Guess I’ll see or talk to you next time you get fucked up. Goodnight Rafe,” You whispered before hanging up on the boy, ignoring his desperate protests.

1:38 a.m.

You turned the shower water off before stepping out onto the cool tiled floor, water dripping from every part of your body. You chose to ignore the buzzing coming from your phone, moving to grab the towel hung on the back of your bathroom door. However, the buzzing started again as you were drying off your legs.

“Who the fuck,” You groaned as you wrapped the towel around your still wet body. ‘Stupid Kook’ was making a second appearance, much to your surprise. “Yes, Rafe?”

“What’s up your ass,” He laughed his infectious laugh. You could picture him throwing his head back and his glazed over eyes twinkling with amusement, something you had only seen when you found yourself admiring him from afar.

“Nothings up my ass. Just don’t know what your high ass wants this time.” You gripped your phone in your hand and started to walk back towards your room. Your parents had fallen asleep hours ago, so you had to make sure you were quiet. However, that deemed difficult in the darkest hours of the night in your already poorly lit house. You bumped your hip and stubbed your toe on just about anything that was out in the open. Once you were in your room, you hastily shut the door and flipped the light switch on.

“Hello! Hello! Hello! Where are you,” Rafe yelled, making you wince and pull the phone away from your ear.

“Jesus, dude. Calm down, I was walking back to my room,” You chastised, doing your best to hold your phone in between your ear and shoulder.

“What were you doing? I missed you,” He pouted.

You ignored the swelling you got in your heart and said, “I was leaving the bathroom. I just finished showering. What are you doing?”

You grabbed a clean pair of underwear and a shirt you had taken from JJ after you had thrown up over whatever you were wearing that night. Rafe began telling you what he was doing, which was quite literally nothing. However, he quickly dove into a spout of how you were naked and wet and how badly he wanted to see you without any clothes on. Your cheeks were burning as he went on and on about all of the sinful things he wanted to do to you. You let him ramble on a bit more as you turned the light off once you were clothed and ready for bed.

“Okay, that’s enough, Rafe,” You stopped him, pulling your blanket back so you could crawl in bed. “So, calling me two times within a week? You falling in love with me?”

It was so painfully obvious that it was a joke, but you could practically feel the tension radiating through your phone from Rafe’s end. His abrupt silence concerned you because this boy was far from silent when he was doped out.

“Maybe I am,” He finally got out, and you couldn’t detect any sarcasm in it.

“Sure you are,” You rolled your eyes, blaming exhaustion for briefly clouding your judgment, “If you were in love with me, you’d actually talk to me when you aren’t too fucked to remember your own name.”

You started picking at a loose thread on your blanket as you let your mind wander to what life would be life if you had an actual relationship with Rafe. Going to parties with him. Hanging around the Island Club with him and his friends. Him doing lines off your body before having his way with you.

“I will talk to you when I’m not high,” His voice broke you from your thoughts, “If that’s what you really want.”

“I do,” You said way too quickly, “I mean, yeah sure. That would be nice, I guess.”

“Just text me and I’ll answer.” You couldn’t stifle the yawn that escaped your lips, but you did try and hide it from Rafe. Your attempt was no good, though. “You’re tired, go to bed.”

“No, I’m fi-.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Rafe shouted over you, “Talk to you soon, baby.”

Rafe’s name popped up on your phone screen every few days after he had gotten drunk out of his mind or too high to do anything other than find your contact. You didn’t mind it at first, but after you had texted him during the day and those messages went unanswered, you grew hurt and annoyed. You had tried asking him why he wouldn’t respond, but he always found a way to change the subject. You wanted to ask him about it in person, but you hadn’t seen him in almost a month. You wanted to ask him why he couldn’t bother to pick up the phone when he was sober, but wasted no time in calling you as soon as he got his bump in.

One of the nights he called, you offered to have him come over because your parents were gone, but he said no. Made up some excuse about how he was staying with Topper for a while since Sarah cheated on him and he wanted to be there for his friend. You understood that, so you didn’t push him after that. Then, the next time you told him about a party everyone was going to and how you wanted to see him there. You even told him to bring the other two. That time he told you he was staying away from parties for a while, wanting to stay to himself for the most part due to the constant stress from his dad. You knew how Ward could be sometimes, so it wasn’t hard to believe him and move on from there.

You wanted to be mad to him for only acknowledging you when he was high, but you couldn’t be. You’ve always wanted to feel wanted by somebody, and he made you feel like that albeit only when he was far gone from reality. You could deal with it as long as you got to talk to him, no matter how insecure it made you. Well, you thought you could.

2:25

Your parents were gone for the night, so you opted to watch Marvel movies in the living room. You were so invested in watching Iron Man and shoving popcorn in your mouth that you didn’t feel your phone go off the first six times. Or the fifteen times after that. Not that you would have cared either way. You knew the only person it could be was the boy who never wanted you sober. The credits began rolling across the TV, so you finally decided to pick up your discarded phone. You were shocked to see Rafe had called you eight times and texted you thirteen. Overall, his texts said the same thing.

Why aren’t u answering me :(

Call me pls

I wanna talk to you baby

It was if he knew you were finally looking at your phone because his contact popped up not ten seconds later. You rolled your eyes, but reluctantly answered.

“Y/N! Where have you been,” He whined into the receiver, “I’ve been trying to call you for like two hours.”

“Watching movies,” Your words were sharp and short, not particularly wanting to talk to him right now. You’ve nearly reached your breaking point with him.

Rafe could immediately tell something was off with you by the way you sounded. “What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath in, setting your bowl of popcorn on the coffee table after you paused the end credit scene. You leaned forwards and planted your elbow on your knee as you held your head in annoyance.

“I’m fine, Rafe. I’m just getting fed up with you only wanting to talk to me when you’re high or drunk,” You started, “I used to be fine with it because it once every couple of weeks, but now it’s almost every day and it’s annoying. You told me to text you when you’re sober, and I did, but you never responded. I try and offer to come over to you or have you come to me, but you always have an excuse. I know you want to be there for Topper and you don’t really want to be around anyone right now, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with it.”

“Y/N, I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just-It’s complicated. Please understand that,” He was practically begging you to listen to him.

“Rafey, are you coming back to play beer pong with us,” A female voice suddenly cut through the sudden sound of music.

Your breathing stopped and your heart felt like it was being squeezed by Rafe’s own hand. A wave of heartbreak crashed over your entire body. “‘I just don’t want to be around anyone’ huh? Thought you were just spending time with Topper for a while? You know, if you didn’t want to see me, all you had to do was say so,” You whimpered, hurt now mixing with your anger and annoyance.

“No, wait,” He tried, yelling at whoever came in the room to get out, “Y/N, please. It isn’t lik-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. It is like that, Rafe. It is exactly like that. You don’t want to see me, and that is fine. I get it. Why would you ever want to be seen with someone from the Cut? It doesn’t matter, though. Don’t call me anymore. You lied to me. That is not something that I can forgive,” Your tears were too strong to hold back now, “I don’t care for liars, Rafe Cameron, and you’re the biggest one of all.”

You quickly hung up and turned off your phone, throwing it towards the end of the couch so you weren’t tempted to grab it. You grabbed the large blanket from the back of the couch, picked another movie, and let your tears fall as it played in front of you.

“Honey,” Your moms gentle voice broke through, “You fell asleep on the couch.”

You slowly opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the bright light shining through the giant window. The headache hit you like a ton of brinks, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut in pain. Your mom was hovering over you, her hand on your shoulder and her soft eyes pretending to not notice how puffy your cheeks and red your eyes are.

“I guess so,” You mumbled, pushing yourself up into a sitting position, “I’ll go lay down in my room. I’m still tired.”

She gave you an understanding nod with a caring smile and helped you off the couch. Her hand lingered on your back as if she wanted to say something to you, but she decided to leave it alone for now. You would talk to her when you were ready, if you ever were. You gave her a thumbs up when she told you her and your father would be out again most of the day.

Your feet dragged as you stumbled back to your room, using the wall to keep you steady. You pushed the door open with your foot and gave your cat, who was laying on your bed as if she owned it, a stupid smile. You fell onto the bed and pulled her onto your chest as you turned your phone back on. You were scared to confront the actions from last night, but knowing Rafe, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to even send you a text about it. You were quickly proven wrong the moment your phone turned back on. The vibration from all of the texts, voicemails, and snapchats felt like it lasted for five straight minutes. Nearly all were from the boy you wanted nothing to do with. Although, you noticed a voicemail from Topper, who you forgot even had your number.

Um, hey its Topper. Look dude, I don’t know what happened, but Rafe is freaking out like a bitch right now. He keeps mumbling shit about how he fucked things up with, which I didn’t even know you two were a thing but whatever I don’t really care. He kicked everyone out of my house and has been calling and texting you for like thirty minutes straight now so please call him back, so he shuts the fuck up. If not for him, do it for my sanity before I kill him. Uh, yeah, thanks, bye.

You sighed deeply after the voicemail cut off, your heart rate increasing at the thought of Rafe being upset. If he was bad enough that Topper of all people called you, you knew it was bad. You wanted to not care because of how he made you feel, but you did. You’ve always cared about the blond boy more than you cared to admit. You finally decided to look at the messages he sent you.

Y/N pls call me back

I’m sorry its not what it looks like and I know that sounds stupid but its true

Pls talk to me. I need u to talk to me

I promise that I never wanted to hurt u ok???

I love you, Y/N. Please call me or I’m coming to your house tomorrow.

The world stopped spinning when you read the last message. You kept reading it over and over again as if you misread it the first time. Rafe had never been any kind of affectionate with you until he called you baby. Rafe Cameron was not someone known to get emotional, so you weren’t sure if you believed his words. He was a liar and would do anything to get what he wanted, so what was different now?

You heard a knock on the door followed by your moms muffled voice, but you were too focused on the situation in front of you to notice who it was. Your eyes were glued to the screen, staring at the three words you never thought anyone other than your family and friends would say to you. The world around you was fading away, your heart feeling as if it was going to beat out of your chest as tears slid down your still puffy cheeks. You weren’t going to let him do this to you. You weren’t going to let him toy with you anymore.

“Y/N,” A deep voice dragged you out of your subconscious.

Your eyes darted over to the door and saw the last person you wanted to see. Rafe was standing there, his eyes wide and blood shot and he looked like total shit. His hair was a wild mess, nothing like its usual tamed state. You met his gaze and you wished you hadn’t. One look from him and you were puddy in his hands. One look and every thought you had about never seeing him again flew out the window.

“Hey, can we talk,” He mumbled, his bright blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Please.”

Not trusting your words, you gave him a swift nod and gestured to the spot next to you on your bed. You leaned to the side and placed your cat on the ground, watching as she rubbed herself all over Rafe’s leg before scampering away. His walk to your bed was painfully slow, and you wanted to tell him to hurry up, but you knew that was unreasonable.

“What do you want, Rafe,” Your voice was harsh, trying to ignore the urge to reach out to him. “What do you want to talk about? How you only use me for your own pleasure? How you only ever even look at me when you’re drunk or high? How you lied to me? Wanna talk about that?”

Your anger surprised even yourself. One second you wanted to hold him in your arms and comfort him, but then the memory of how he treated you came back and flipped a switch in your brain. You don’t know how you feel and you hate it.

“I deserve every bit of your anger,” He breathed out, letting his hand fall dangerously close to your own, “But please let me explain everything to you, okay?”

“Fine,” You gave in, “Talk.”

“Yeah, thank you, okay. I really do want to talk to you when I’m not absolutely fucked, I do. I know that it doesn’t seem like that, but its true. I just, I can’t. Every time I look at you, think about you, I hear my dads voice screaming at me that I will never be good enough for anyone. I have this thought drilled into my head every day that no matter what I do, who I am, I am just never enough. To me, you’re no exception to that. In fact, you remind me even more. Wait no.”

Rafe rubbed both of his hands over his face and tugged at his hair, afraid that he’s already fucking this up. “Rafe,” You gently spoke up, turning to grab his hands from his face. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

His eyes met yours and you could see how strained he was. There were too many emotions swirling in his eyes for you to pinpoint exactly what he was feeling. “Okay, um, okay. To me, you are way too good for me, so the only time I feel comfortable talking to you is when I’m high. I’ve never had trouble talking to any girl before, but you’re more than that to me. You’re more than just some girl to me and it scares me, so I feel like I have to be, yanno, not me. When I talk to you. I want to be with you more than I have ever wanted to be with someone in my life”

Your hand was still holding his as you let his words sink in. Him revealing how his dad truly made him feel made your heart ache for him. It made you want to grab him by the face and tell him how he is more than good enough. You wanted to let him in, but you weren’t sure if you were ready for the risk that came along with it. You’re not sure if you want all the things that came with being with Rafe Cameron. He’s followed by hurt and lies, and you do feel guilty thinking that, but it’s been proven true countless times.

“Rafe, listen to me,” You began, moving so you were straddling him and holding his face in your hands. His hands immediately came to grip your hips, and you are well aware that this was a more than compromising situation. “I understand that your father is probably the worst person we both know, but that doesn’t excuse you lying to me. I don’t know if I can trust you, no matter how much I may want to.”

You watched as tears gather in his eyes, and he was doing his best to keep them at bay. He had never felt the way he feels about you before, and he’s more than aware that his reputation precedes him. He knows that he’s done nothing more than prove how untrusting he is to you, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from trying to prove to you that he means what he’s saying.

“I know that nothing I say will fix what I’ve already done. I know that, but I can show you just how much you mean to me, if you’ll let me. We can go at your pace. Do things your way. Just, please, give me another chance to prove myself to you.”

You’re searching for any detection of a lie in his eyes, in his voice, but you come up empty. You wipe away the stray tears that broke through his wall of protection. You hesitantly placed your forehead on his, and you could hear him take in a sharp breath at the connection. Your eyes fluttered closed, your nose brushing against his as you weighed all of your options.

“Did you mean what you to me? In your last text,” You whispered, too scared to open your eyes and look at him. “Do you actually love me?”

“More than you know,” His breath was hot against your chin, and he pulled you closer into him.

You decided to take a leap, dive into something that scared you more than anything. Your lips finally met his, and Rafe wasted no time in returning the feeling. Your hands fell from his cheeks and clasped each other behind his neck, while his hands stayed placed on your hips, too scared to push you too far. You deepened the passion filled kiss by pulling him closer to you and running your tongue across his bottom lip. Rafe’s lips moved in such a sensual way that you almost didn’t know how to react. It was much different from the lust filled kisses you’ve shared in the past. You started moving your hips on top of him, an action that had him gripping your hips tighter than before.

Y/N,” Rafe breathed out after he broke away from you, “If you don’t stop, I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Then don’t.”

i have not edited this so if you see a mistake lmk. love u

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #obx #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine

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myherowritings · 4 years

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welcome to the family

SUMMARY. After mistaking the guy on your lockscreen as your boyfriend, your grandmother knits him a sweater to welcome him into the family. Childe sees your tweet about it the next morning.

PAIRING. celeb!childe x reader

WORD COUNT. 1.0k

GENRE. celeb au, loosely based off a tweet

A/N. small drabble because i kind of got excited at the thought of celeb au childe o.o also like...have u listened to his english va sing those cheesy songs? i absolutely love it HFJKGHG pls enjoy xx sof

You weren’t a fan of the celebrity with the title Tartaglia, alias Childe, real name unknown to the public.

Definitely not a fan.

The only reason you knew even that much about him was simply due to social media blowing him up as the infamous white boy of the month. And from there his fame only grew. (Though you had to admit, he was at least more interesting than the previous other candidates.)

You weren’t a fan, but you couldn’t deny he deserved the recognition he received. His acting was pretty captivating, his singing voice pleasing to the ear, and his body... Well, his body...

“Earth to Y/N,” your mom called, drawing you out of your rapidly spiraling thoughts. You were visiting your family home for the weekend and you were currently in the living room with your mother and grandmother, watching bad reality TV and snacking on junk food. “You’ve been spaced out today. Too busy thinking about your boyfriend?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”

Like most grandparents, your grandma seemed to have a special radar to let her know when her grandchildren had a potential suitor at hand. Just the mere mention of the word made her perk up. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah! I don’t know why they were keeping it a secret from us, but I saw the picture on their lockscreen,” she whispered to your grandma conspiratorially, loud enough for you to hear. “He’s a cute guy with ginger hair.”

The picture on your lockscreen off a cute guy with ginger hair… You were only half-embarrassed to recall that it was a picture taken from Childe’s outdoor picnic photoshoot where the poses they made him do attempted to paint the image that he was there on a date with you. His clothes were casual and his smile was familiar.

You absolutely hated that marketing strategy but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t willingly fall for it each time.

But again, you weren’t a fan…

Oh, who were you fooling? You were halfway from breaking and making a Childe fan account if your dignity didn’t get the best of you.

“Childe? He’s—”

“Your boyfriend! My grandchild finally found love in this world?” asked your grandmother, teary-eyed as she completely ignored her favorite trashy reality show on the television to get a better look at you. “I’m so happy for you! This is so exciting.”

“Grandma, wait—”

“You have to bring him home and let us meet him,” she rushed on animatedly, giving you no time to squeeze a full sentence in. “No, before you do that, let me make him something for you to give to him! What size is his shirt? Is that a picture of him? Oh he looks nice and strong! I’ll knit him a turtleneck. You give it to him the next time you see him, okay?”

Your grandma ran to get her knitting needles and yarn, leaving a whirlwind in her wake as you stared open-mouthed at the spot she once occupied.

That was how you ended up going home the next day with a brand new turtleneck sweater your grandmother made for your non-existent boyfriend.

The situation was so bizarre, you decided there was only one thing you could do: Pull your phone out as you sat on your bed to tell Twitter about the events of your weekend.

— ✩ —

It wasn’t everyday Childe woke up to check what the top tweets of his tag were on Twitter.

Okay, that’s a lie.

It was everyday.

He had an image to keep, after all. And it interested him to know what others had to say about him, despite how bad that might actually be for his state of mind.

Childe didn’t like deceit, but showing some parts of himself to only some people and other parts to others wasn’t lying. It was self-preservation. Everyone had a persona of sorts, and he preferred for his to be intact. What was the point of showing everyone every side of him?

He knew who Childe and Tartaglia were. He knew who Ajax was. As long as he knew, he’d be alright.

Was it a lonely path? Maybe. But it paid well and made his family proud. What more could he ask for?

Acting may not be as cool as being, say, a toymaker as his younger brother would proclaim, but at least he got to travel the world and explore places he never could’ve before. And the cute fans of his were also a definite bonus.

Childe continued scrolling through his phone when he stumbled upon a tweet that seemed to be gaining numbers quickly. It was posted only a few hours ago last night (his time, at least) by what looked like a personal account.

@y/n: Y'ALL WTF my mom saw my lockscreen (which is a pic of childe) and told my grandma that he was my bf and then my gma got so excited she knit him a WHOLE SWEATER and told me to give it to him. how could i break her heart and tell her he’s just a celebrity i like omg

@y/n: here’s a picture of the sweater she knit. isn’t it adorable? i almost feel too bad to just wear it myself though hjfkhg [Attachment: 1 Image]

A surprised chuckle escaped his lips as he looked at the picture of you holding the cream-colored turtleneck up, the large sleeves covering most of your body in the photo. You were right. The sweater did look adorable. As did a certain little fan of his who was also featured in the image.

Without giving it a second thought, he began to type his reply.

@TartagliaOfficial: Why wear it yourself? Didn’t your grandma say it’s meant for me? :( It’d be a shame to disappoint her.

In only a matter of minutes, he refreshed the page and found your name in his notifications. For some reason, he felt a rush of adrenaline flow through his veins as he waited for your tweet to load.

@y/n: am i being punk’d or r u asking me out???

Childe laughed to himself, exiting the tweet thread so he could click on the private message icon on your profile.

This would be fun.

#genshin x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #HE HAS SO MANY NAMES HOW DO I TAG THIS HFDJGK #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader fluff #childe x you #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fluff #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia

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thehaitanis · 3 years

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𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔧𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰: 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔷𝔲, 𝔯𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔪𝔞

❮★❯ summary: how will sanzu haruchiyo, haitani ran and hanma shuji act when they get jealous.

❮★❯ warnings: none, maybe bad writing.

❮★❯ disclaimer: english is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

sanzu is definitely one to get jealous and he is more than conscious about this. he knows himself and you enough to know that not everything you do is a reason to put him in a bad mood, but sometimes he just can’t help but feel like you’re doing all of that on purpose, is it really that bad that he wants to make sure you’re by his side every time you’re together? no, sanzu is just trying to protect you while he does his job assisting muto.

it doesn’t take him any more than just one second to make him feel like someone’s trying to take you away from him, like, he just needs you to look uncomfortable for him to act, leaving whatever he’s doing to appear by your side and, even if he’s not as tall or as strong as other toman’s members, his cold eyes and the fact that he has peculiar scars are everything he needs to scare the person away. he won’t even try to hide how jealous he is, he doesn’t care really, sanzu just wants them away from you so he could continue with what he was doing before someone decided to try their luck.

he tends to be mean to people he doesn’t like, so expect no less of him if he happens to open his mouth because what’s about to happen will leave with a pounding headache and the reminder to never have an argument with your boyfriend.

it’ll be pretty obvious just how jealous he is, you would know what he is feeling but not the reason behind it and it’s not like he will tell you, so you’ll have to investigate the possible causes for his sour mood. it’ll look like he is mad but, in reality, he’s just going through the very same scenario that made him feel like that, thinking of different ways he could’ve approached the situation to not make it that obvious.

sanzu will accept his jealousy only if you push him to. he’ll gladly die with his envious feelings before even coming close to accepting the fact that he doesn’t like to see you paying attention to anyone that’s not him, at least not the special attention you always give him. that is something he holds dear to his heart and would completely refuse to share.

he doesn't get jealous, not at all, he has never in his life felt jealous, not even when stupid guys try to get closer to you by faking some kind of accident, no, he never feels the need to beat their faces until they’re not recognizable anymore. that, obviously, is a lie because haitani ran is the ceo of reading to dirt anyone that thinks they can get close to you with those intentions without any consequences.

as confident as he is, it wouldn't take long before he begins to feel jealous. it would start as mere amusement, finding funny that someone had the guts to approach you when you’re clearly being surrounded by the haitani brothers and a bunch of other dangerous criminals that act under their command, but ran let’s them be, observing with interest as this stranger tries to get you to give your name and your phone number. then he’ll make a stupid joke in hopes of getting you in a better mood and there is where ran will draw the line. he knows you’re only laughing because you’re nice, but that doesn’t take away the fact that he feels the sudden urge to kill that idiot right there.

he’ll approach this person with confidence, a fake smile plastered on his face and an aura that can repel whoever is around. he’ll be “nice” every moment he gets to talk, making hurtful comments that will either make the stranger leave or make the situation extremely uncomfortable. whatever it is, you just need to be prepared for ran to be in his absolutely worst mood once he scares the person away.

although he won’t treat you any differently, you’ll know something it’s up with him the moment you’re alone. usually, ran is the one always doing the talking, speaking of everything that comes to his mind but now it’s you the one who’s doing all the talking

he won’t ever admit his jealousy mostly because he doesn’t want you to think lowly of him, trying to keep the oh so perfect image he worked so hard to keep, but he will definitely be way more affective with you for the rest of the day to compensate for his behaviour.

i think hanma is one of the characters that can get the most jealous in tr mostly because his personality is very volatile. as we have seen before, hanma only acts under his own interests so it wouldn’t be rare to see him getting mad when something doesn’t go the way he planned or when something takes his fun away from him.

even if he gets easily jealous, it would take a lot of time before he realizes what he’s feeling, mistaking it at first by simple annoyance when he sees you leaving to talk to someone else. just where are you going? weren’t you telling him about your day? his relaxed smile dropping the moment he sees you laugh with the one he was left for. it would take someone else to point out the fact that he might be jealous for him to realize that he actually is and, the moment he accepts it, it’s the moment all the fun you were having is gone because there’s no way you can ignore the tension in the air when suddenly you feel hanma’s arms circling your shoulders, his chin resting on top of your head while he gives an obviously fake smile to the person in front. it’ll be best if you just leave, pretending you both have something else to do in hopes hanma will let the problem go.

hanma is pretty much an asshole to everyone except you, so as you can imagine his behaviour towards the other person will be anything but kind. he’ll pretend as if nothing’s happening, including himself in the conversation you were having in hopes the person will get the point that he’s only faking his laugh. i feel like he’ll also be the type to put threats into his words in hopes to create a fight like the troublemaker he is.

i’ll be pretty obvious to you that he’s jealous, this guy won’t even try to hide it because, at the end of the day, it really makes him feel like you’re the only one that can get him that worked out without even being responsible for it.

hanma will one hundred percent admit his jealousy and he will do it in the most hypocritical way, finding it funny that even someone like him can get jealous. this will also show you just how much he cares about you, so please don’t go talking to other people if you were previously beside him.

❮★❯ requests are: closed!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #haitani ran #hanma shuji

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nat-20s · 3 years

Text

fill of @jonmartinweek day 6 prompt- flirting AND jealousy, though much heavier on the jealousy than the flirting. Set in a classic “season 5 jmart time travel bac to season 1″ au

~*~

“Mr. Blackwood-Sims, if I didn’t know any better, I would assume you’re trying to proposition me.”

“Mr. Sims-Blackwood, I would never. For one, neither of us are inclined towards those sorts of activities, for second, we’re both married men. What would my husband say?”

“I believe your husband would say he never specified exactly what you were propositioning, and he would be more than amenable to kissing, preferably sometime in the next few seconds.”

“Mmm, suppose I’ll have to find him and take him up on that, then. If that’s really how he feels.”

“Trust me, it most certainly is.”

Christ, would those two shut up already? Granted, it’s late enough that they probably think they’re alone in the archives, but, still. This is, technically, a work place, and Jon would’ve preferred not to have accidentally gotten an eyeful as he made his way past the open door in the breakroom. Now, the image of (supposedly) a future version of himself sitting on the couch, with (supposedly) a future version of Martin straddling his legs, using one hand to cup his face, and the other to run his hands through that Jon’s longer hair, was seared into his mind, and he hated it. Look, contrary to what people who don’t know him very well seemed to believe, he’s hardly a prude. He’s more than fine with descriptions of physical intimacy, as well as public displays of affection. If he’s being honest with himself, deep down, he doesn’t even care all that much about professionalism, especially considering it is after hours.

But of course, he’s not being honest with himself, because then he’d have to admit that it bothers him that it’s them. He doesn’t know what to call the acrid burning in the pit of his stomach, the too tight ache in his chest, that’s present whenever the fun house mirror versions of himself and Martin are besotted with each other, but he knows it’s there. It doesn’t help that he’s the only one that seems to be bothered by it, the only one that frowns at the flash of wedding rings or the orbit those two always seem to occupy around each other.

Or, no, he’s not the only one. Occasionally, while witnessing the two of them being...the Two of Them, he can’t help glancing over to Martin. Lo and behold, Martin also doesn’t look thrilled about all of this, usually skewing more towards confusion or, oddly enough, resignation. At least, that’s what Jon thinks he sees there, it’s one of the few times where he can’t fully get a read on Martin.

Still, as much as Martin might share in being somewhat perturbed, as anyone who meets their “future selves” should be, Martin doesn’t seem nearly as upset as Jon is. That brings him back to his current predicament of feeling that level of upset, but not being able to determine the root cause of it.

It is not that he’s jealous. It’s not! He does not feel a pang of envy at seeing someone who looks extremely similar to himself loving openly, and being openly loved in return. He doesn’t find his thoughts drifting to the imagined feeling of lips pressed to his temple or arms around his waist or fingers running through his hair. He certainly hasn’t looked down at his left hand and been disappointed by the fact that its bare. He doesn’t even want those things, as he’s been telling himself for a number of many lonely years. One of these days he might even believe it.

Fine. Fine. Maybe, but only maybe, there’s a part of him that’s jealous. Maybe there’s even a part of him that despairs, because try as he might he can’t connect point A to point B, can’t see the steps he would have to take to be like that other version of himself, and he knows his Martin (well, not his Martin, but..) will never look at him like that, will never see him in that light. And, damn it all, it hurts, so if they could kindly stop ru-

Oh. Wait. He can’t hear them outside his office door anymore. Huh, perhaps they-

“Knock knock.”

Startled out of his...contemplation, Jon looks up to find himself looking back. Sims is leaning against the door-frame, with mussed hair, swollen lips, and pupils blown wide. Jon loathes him and wishes to be him in equal measure. In a move he usually would’ve thought more characteristic of Tim, Sims doesn’t wait for a response, instead sitting himself across from Jon and saying, “Figured you’d still be here.”

Trying not to sound too much like he’s speaking through gritted teeth, Jon asks, “Did you now?”

Sims gives a lackadaisical shrug. “With any luck, you’re not going to become me. I not sure you can become me, at this point, diverging paths and all that. However, we do share the first 28 years of our lives, and I certainly didn’t believe in the concept of a work life balance, so why would you?”

“Is there something you wanted?”

“Yes, actually. I want you to ask out Martin, your moping is getting insufferable, and considering how much of our misery has been entirely outside of our control, you shouldn’t put up with what is in your power to fix.”

Jon blinks. Jon processes. Jon stammers. “I-what?! I am not, you can’t just-. Martin doesn’t even like me, and if you really were the same person as me, you know I’m not all that keen on him either.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you can’t stop thinking about his hands?”

“I do no-”

Sims puts a hand up in surrender, though the smirk doesn’t entirely drop. “Sorry, sorry, I know that’s rather unhelpful. What I mean is, you’re already loved, right now, as you are. No, that love is not coming from Martin, but it could be,t because he doesn’t dislike you. He doesn’t know you, because you have done everything in your power to make sure he doesn’t. You also don’t know him, even though you’re interested in him, because you’ve been trying not to be. It’s stupid. Get to know each other. It’ll probably work out.”

“I...is that how you did it? Because this seems like an objectively terrible idea.”

Sims snorts. “God, no. It took a coma before I was able to untangle my own feelings. The whole point is that you won’t have to take the same looping, painful path that I did.”

Jon wants to reject it outright, almost does, and yet. “Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. Why?’

“Nothing, just. We’re usually a more stubborn on these sorts of things. I was expecting more of a fight.”

“Mm. Normally, I would be, but I’ve been forced to watch two rather obvious proof of concepts waltzing around in front of me, and agreeing will hopefully get you the hell out of my office.”

Sims studies him for a moment, then a surprised smile spreads on his face. “All right then.”

Jon makes a dismissive hand wave, and Sims obliges, and he spends the rest of the night trying not to think about what he’s agreed to.

~*~

The next day, about half an hour before the end of the work day, Jon calls Martin into his office. From his tight shoulders and carefully blank expression, it’s clear Martin very much does not want to be there. Great. This is going to go so well.

Jon gestures for him to sit, Martin does, and he dives in. “As we both now know, I don’t have the ability to fire you. In all reality, even though I am, on paper, your boss, I truly don’t have any power or authority over you.”

Martin leans back in his seat, letting a heavy pause fall between them before saying a stilted, “Okay?”

“So, I want you to know that I am about to ask you a question, and you have complete freedom and choice over your response, without fear of any negative consequences. Alright?”

“Um. Sure.”

Jon takes a breath, slowly lets it out, and bites the bullet. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

Martin stares. Then he squints. Then he studies. “Oh. Jon, you...we’re not them, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“So..why?”

Jon lets out a sigh, and tries to gather his thoughts in a way that makes sense to either of them. “Well, though I myself have some trouble with the concept, they’re not..entirely removed from who we are, and there’s enough foundation there that I have reason to believe we might...get on? Maybe we don’t, maybe we end up being friends, maybe we end up like them. That’s already enough to pique my own curiosity, but, alternate future versions of us aside, I mostly would just like to get to know more about you, and I’m hoping you might like to get to know me better as well.”

Martin’s shoulders relax, and he chews on his bottom lip for a moment before replying, “Okay. Yeah, why not?”

“Oh. Oh! Great! Does this Saturday work for you?”

“Works perfectly. Let’s give a shot.”

The first date is..fine. A Bit of a mess, but fine. The second date, however, is the best Jon’s ever been on. It’s so wonderful, in fact, that he doesn’t even mind when he catches Blackwood passing a fiver to Sims the day he can’t stop smiling at work.

#jonmartinweek2021 #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #tma #the ending is literally 'we wouldn't be compatible without trauma' 'oh bet?'#ALSO GOD THIS IS SO LONG FOR A FICLET HH

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lovely-jily · 3 years

Text

almost caught

something for @jilytoberfest! prompt: "if we get caught-" "i'll make it worth your while, i promise."

i wrote this quickly and didn't revise it a ton, but im just excited to contribute for jilytober!!! hope you lovely's like:)

"Okay, James. I'm going to be completely frank here- and I wholeheartedly mean every word when I say this- this is perhaps the stupidest idea you've ever had- and you've had loads of stupid idea's."

"Oh, come on. Try to have some faith in me," James whispered back, opening one of the drawers of the desk. They were in the Ravenclaw Prefect's office. James had suspected that the Prefects were somehow involved with their Quidditch team cheating by using weighted and magic-infused balls. The only evidence he had to back his theory up was a "gut feeling" and the fact that the bludgers seemed to target the other team more often, which Lily chalked up to confirmation bias. While she disagreed with cheating, she figured a better idea was to talk to their Prefects, not snoop through their office.

"Famous last words," Lily rolled her eyes, "I can't believe that I let you drag me into this. If we get caught-"

"I'll make it worth your while, I promise," The boy reassured her as he looked up at Lily, messy dark curls hanging in front of his eyes. He had finished looking in the first drawer and moved to the one below it, quickly searching. Lily wasn't sure what he meant by that, "Besides, we won't get caught. Now, are you going to start searching, or are you going to make me do all the work like usual?"

"Like usual? Excuse me?" Lily said. She was standing in front of him, hands firmly planted on her hips disapprovingly before turning to the cabinets. Besides breaking his collarbone last night in a quidditch game (Which Madam Pomfrey fixed just fine, and if he followed her instructions, he'd be totally healed in days), the year was going swimmingly for James and Lily. She enjoyed working with him as Heads and was seeing real change in him. He was no longer a bully, and in fact, he always shut that sort of thing down.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for."

James just chuckled as he closed the second drawer, kneeling to search the third drawer, "Probably anything quidditch related."

"You've got the wrong person for this," Lily sighed. That was probably true. She knew nothing of sports- both muggle and wizard alike. She turned to the cabinets on the far wall, which was full of books, mostly student records, and smelled musty.

"You know, this would be so much easier if you just agreed to use the cloak with me," James commented as he stood up and brushed off his pants. Lily had grown to like him over the past few months and didn't mind working with him as co-Heads. He was kind, responsible, and enthusiastic enough that almost everyone adored him- even Lily. She was even starting to get butterflies around him, something she never thought could happen.

"I'm never going under that damn cloak with you," Lily said as she took out a book of student records. She dusted it off and then put it back where she found it.

"Never is a strong word," James said as he walked over to the wardrobe. He opened it up and stepped inside, pressing against the back of it to see if any secret openings were on the back wall.

"I know," Lily said, following him and standing behind him, "That's why I said it."

That's when they heard the door handle jiggle, indicating that someone was trying to come in.

Lily, panicking, looked up at James. He quickly grabbed her by her waist and lifted her into the broom closet, quietly slamming the door. One hand was on her waist, the other over her mouth to try and keep her quiet. He gently took it off and put it behind her head. One hand was still on her waist as he tangled his other in her hair.

Fucking hell, he was hot.

Lily's hands were holding tightly at the bottom hem of her skirt. She knew that if she didn't plant them there, they'd undoubtedly find themselves tangled in James's dark locks.

"Maybe you were right about that cloak," Lily whispered as they were both breathing heavily and pressed up against each other. She wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was beating. She wasn't sure if that was from fear of getting caught or being so close to James.

James just brought his finger back to her lips and shushed her softly. His breath was softly blowing on her bangs, which caused them to tickle her forehead. All Lily could do was look up at him, remembering what was going on outside the cabinet, hearing the door open. He then anxiously looked out through the crack of the wooden doors, trying to watch whoever she heard come in. Lily tried to ignore the way he was clenching his jaw. She noticed that was a sort of nervous tick of his, something that he did when anxious. One hand was still on her waist, the other resting on her hair on the nape of her neck.

Why was she caring more about James's hands on her than she did at the idea of getting caught?

"Weird, I swore I heard voices," Sabrina Wood, the sixth year Prefect, said.

"So did I," Robert Thomas responded.

James, seeming to spot something above Lily's head, quickly reached his hand up. However, he never got to inspect what he wanted to. Lily heard the sound of his collarbone crack, implying that it was rebroken. While Madam Pomfrey had patched him up just fine, she said he needed to refrain from sudden movements of reaching above his head. Lily now realized this was why.

James leaned forward and grimaced in pain. Still on Lily's neck, his hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled at it slightly.

"Fuck," He groaned quietly in Lily's ear, and she felt his hot breath against her ear and neck. Her eyes widened at how attractive that word was coming from his lips, silently cursing herself at the sinful thoughts that flashed in her mind.

The sound of footsteps walking around the office brought Lily back to the current reality. She looked above her see his arm clenched in a fist. He was in a lot of pain.

Wordlessly, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at his broken collarbone. She had practised nonverbal spells a number of times, although never this one. She wasn't sure if she'd ever done this one on a human before.

The footsteps were walking towards the wardrobe and she looked at James. He had relaxed his grip on Lily's hair (much to her disappointment) and moved it to her waist. He nodded slightly, giving her permission to try.

She wordlessly performed the healing charm. James gripped at her shirt in response to the painful snap of bone back in place, just as they heard Robert say something about how they needed to get back to their rounds. They heard the two leave and the door close, listening to the charm the Prefects performed to lock the door. Once they determined they were alone, James let out another groan as he brought his hand down from above Lily's head.

"Good girl," He exhaled as he melted into her, and Lily's eyes widened again. That should not make her feel the way it did, but regardless her toes crinkled and she tightened her grip on her wand.

"You alright?" She asked sheepishly, trying to relax. She was feeling bashful and disappointed that they now had to exit the wardrobe.

James, slightly sweaty from the pain, nodded and raised his other arm to what he wanted to look at earlier. He pressed against the wall, and a hidden drawer slightly popped out. He reached his hand in and pulled out a piece of parchment from inside it.

"Lumos," he said, still breathing heavily. The room lit up, and Lily looked at James, light reflecting on his glasses. He was looking so damn good, skin sticky and lips soft. She fought against the image of something else that could make James groan, sweat, and breathe heavily.

They both looked at the parchment, and written in neat handwriting was "For those who forget, use wingardium leviosa to control replaced quaffles."

James looked up at Lily, a victorious smirk on his face, which Lily couldn't help but smile at.

"God damn it," Lily said, annoyed that he was but also influenced by his contagious smile, "You actually were right."

"We did it, Evans," James said excitedly, putting his hands on her face and shaking it with enthusiasm.

Lily laughed, blushing at his hand placement, "For Ravenclaws, they really are thick. That was way too easy to find."

James shrugged and dropped his hands, "I don't really care too much. We'll take this right to McGonagall. She'll sort this whole thing out."

Lily nodded as he opened the wardrobe door, feeling the cooler air hit their skin. She blinked at the sudden brightness as he helped her out.

"I can't believe you could do that spell so well, and wordlessly too! You never fail to astonish me with your brilliance," James ruffled her hair with his empty hand and pocketed the parchment with his other.

Lily, blushing harder, smiled at him, "Says the idiot who rebroke his collarbone."

"True," James just laughed, putting his hand on Lily's back to push her forward. He then put both hands on her shoulder and shook them back and forth as he guided her out of the door of the office and down the corridor, "What would I do without you, Evans? My saviour."

Lily just laughed as she shrugged off his hands, playfully pushing him. She looked up at him, his hands clasped behind his back and glasses peering down at her.

"Probably walk around with a broken collarbone."

"Of course," He looked forward, "I've got a question for you, Miss Evans."

Lily's stomach lurched at that statement, and she bit her lip in anticipation, "Yes?"

He stepped in front of her, stopping her. His hands were still behind his back, and he looked down at her. They were nearly as close as they were in the wardrobe.

"Did you think about kissing me in that wardrobe?"

Shit. Fuck. How did he know??

Her stomach dropped, and while she was taken back from the question, but decided she wasn't too mad about it. So they were doing this now?

Lily, full of panic and anxiety, was determined to remain as calm and collected on the outside as she could. She smirked and tilted her head flirtatiously.

"Maybe. What's it to you?"

James smirked back and stepped back to Lily's side as they started to walk again, "Why didn't you?"

"For starters," Lily said, deciding to remain confident, started to lie, "You had a broken bone and seemed to be in a decent amount of pain."

James scoffed sarcastically, "I don't know what you're talking about. Didn't hurt at all."

"Ah, of course, it didn't," Lily looked at her feet as they walked as she remembered the way that he grabbed at her hair and his tone when he whispered "Fuck" in her ear. She got chills again.

They were heading to McGonagall's office. She wasn't sure how James would explain how he obtained the evidence to McGonagall, but she wasn't thinking about that too much at that point. They were talking about kissing, something much more compelling and appealing to Lily.

"Regardless, and back to the more important thing at hand," He smirked at her as he leaned to whisper in her ear, sending chills up Lily's spine, "Perhaps we can get stuck in another wardrobe soon- and don't hold back next time. I still have to make it up to you for nearly getting caught."

#jily fanfic #jily fanfiction #james potter #james x lily #jily fandom #marauders #jily fic #jilytober #jilytober fest #jilytober 2021 #mauraders era #jily fan fiction #jily #jily tension #tension #lily evans x james potter #james & peter & remus & sirius

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lavendermin · 3 years

Text

if all stars fell at once (1) | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

word count | 3k

genre | fluff, light angst, developing relationship, overall domestic

warning | eventual smut

The memory comes clear as the crystalline waters at the harbor. That day when rain poured mercilessly upon the land— the boy in a mask whose body trembled under an invisible burden. You remember the dark splotches on his body being washed away by downpour.

Blood.

Polearm supporting his body as it heaved, his face slowly turned to face you as an ominous dark mist accumulated around him. And when you blinked, it was as if he was never there; replaced by rain.

Whether it was the haze of sleepless nights getting to you or reality, you still had yet to know. Curiosity was fresh in your mind. His presence… though brief, held immense power and a tainted aura; enough to instill fear in the hearts of any who witnessed them. But you stood there, unwavering and eyes alight with awe and curiosity despite the rain that hailed mercilessly around you.

Weeks continued, and the image of the boy remained somewhere in your subconscious. Days came and went as your mind remained hazed, clouded with the fleeting memory.

The dark clouds overhead brought in strong winds; a sign of a storm rolling in. The laundry hanging outside would surely be swept away at this rate. Quick on your feet, you hurriedly pulled them off the clotheslines. Yet despite your efforts, a couple handkerchiefs you had embroidered were blown away by a harsh gust of wind.

“Ah…!” Despite your attempt, the wind plucked them out of reach. All you could do was helplessly watch as they were carried by devious winds further down the mountain.

Those were for… Ah, I guess I’ll have to redo those, you pondered anxiously. If they were all to be delivered in 3 days, you would have to stay up fairly late just to finish replacing them.

The candle light cracked and flickered as night crept over Liyue. No use stalling. With a sullen crack of your neck, you shut the windows and got to work. The relentless rain was your sole company as you worked through embroidering the replacements well into the night. Despite the nimbleness of experienced hands, numbness settled in after hours of working tirelessly to replace the delicately embroidered handkerchiefs. And with patterns and threads so intricate, they weren’t something you could rush.

The moon came and went that night, having accompanied you behind the storming clouds as it rained and ceased. Yet, late the next day when you returned from running errands, there upon your open windowsill were two neatly folded handkerchiefs safely held in place by a beautiful stone. You examined them— with no doubt, the ones that were swept away.

And as a breeze picked up once more, you didn’t dare look back but hoped the wind would carry your words to the deserving.

“Thank you.”

That was the first time in over a millennia that Xiao was thanked by a mortal for one of his many silent deeds.

———

Soft colors of fading blue and powdery orange iced the sky with the setting sun. You reminisced past memories fondly as you picked a few herbs from your personal garden. The day was slowly dwindling to a lethargic end, but the land ceased to fall into rest to savor most of what the day had to offer.

“Do you remember that, Adeptus Xiao?” you asked with a fond smile. It was met with silence for a moment before a voice spoke up from the roof of your house.

“So, you knew I was here. Mortals truly are something I cannot understand,” he clicked his tongue, shifting to get comfortable where he rested comfortably on your roof. “Or perhaps, it’s that our ties are too strong. Curious…” He pondered to himself, brows slightly furrowed as he contemplated.

With a stretch of your back you stood up, basket in hand. “I know my grandmother’s home is rather quiet here in Qingce Village, so I’ve noticed the roof has become a favorite spot of yours,” you observed with a small shrug he couldn’t see. “Call it a hunch.”

Though he wouldn’t admit it, Xiao knew your guess was right. With your home tucked furthest away at the top of the village, there were seldom any onlookers in the tranquil area. A perfect, stress-free corner for him to visit.

With a huff and trained grace, he hopped off the roof on playful winds and followed you indoors. There was still a cautious air about him but never the same as when you first met him all those months ago.

It seemed like you understood him more than he understood you sometimes, and it puzzled him to no end. Mortals were usually more predictable; working in routine and habits as he had seen of the many centuries that passed. Or… at least he thought. It was no secret that he found mortals to be indecipherable.

In the small kitchen, he was presented with an enticing dish that you laid out; his favorite, no doubt. “Here. I’m heading out to the harbor to run some last minute errands, but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like,” you reassured him with a smile. “Thank you for keeping me company today.”

At your genuine, radiant smile, Xiao couldn’t help but avert his gaze shyly. Truthfully, it always caught him off guard to be thanked for such trivial things that were somehow meaningful to you.

Before you reached the front door, Xiao called out after you. “If you are out late, summon me— call my name. I will guide you safely home.” With firm reassurance, he held your gaze under piercing amber. “Promise me this. Do not be reckless.”

There was no fighting the grin that lit up your face. “You worry for me, Adeptus?” you teasingly prodded, and placed a quick peck on his cheek. “How unexpectedly cute of you.”

At the gesture, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his composure returned. Pensively, he folded his arms across his chest, and you swore he could practically be pouting.

“The safety of Liyue is my duty as an adeptus. As a tool to be used, and nothing more.”

There was a brief sorrow reflected in your eyes, and before Xiao had a chance to address it, you were hurriedly giving your final goodbyes with your usual warm energy.

“I promise I’ll be safe.”

Left to himself, he accepted your gifted offering of almond tofu. I love the way your eyes practically sparkle when you take that first bite, you once teased.

The memory picked up the thrumming in his chest— uncertainty accompanied by rose-dusted cheeks.

With each delicate bite, his mind upheld more questions. The feelings that burst subtly in his chest— what were they? He searched his heart for answers to describe it. Peace of mind? Loneliness?

As many times as his mind decided to go through the same painful cycle of thoughts, ultimately he was left with more questions than when he started. There were no answers within him.

Such as the moon replaces the sun and the days dwindle into night, he too would let it be for now.

And as the sun slowly retreated more and more behind mountains and thin clouds, Xiao couldn’t help but wonder why he continued to keep near you. A tie foraged with a mortal that strangely did not instill the overwhelming need to leave.

Even the room he was in caused no discomfort or suffocation. The cycle started once again as he wondered, why? He often resided at Wangshu Inn, but never in a room. The rooftop high above any wandering souls was his claimed accommodation. The balcony just below that was seldom used by guests was the only other space he occupied there— eyes able to survey the land from a higher vantage point.

However, here in this small shelter you called home there was none of that, yet he stayed. Curiously, his eyes wandered the room to take in the oddities and trinkets that were used as decorum. The bookshelf across the room posed with great importance, and as he approached it he took in the vast collection of books and small items that decorated some empty sections.

Gloved fingers grazed over the elegant, gold-foil titles of some of the books. Some he has partially read before, or listened to you read aloud while he rested on your lap under the large tree outside.

He found himself plucking one out tentatively, flipping through some pages of a thick storybook with worn corners. Another book from the shelf— a thin book of floral poems and sonnets. His mind idly worked to put together what these books could possibly say about you.

After neatly putting another book away, a small glint caught his eyes. Toward the end of one of the shelf rows was a pile of three books with a precious stone sitting atop them.

Ah, the cor lapis stone he had used when he silently returned the two missing handkerchiefs to you many moons ago. An unknown feeling settled in his chest, warm & persistent. It flourished— euphoric, almost, and not too unpleasant. He wondered if it was somehow related to similar chest pains he’d dealt with. Could he really call it ‘pain’ if it wasn’t truly hurting him? The feeling was foreign and he was utterly clueless.

He moved the stone to check the book underneath, flipping through the pages curiously. Amber eyes indifferently skimmed through a page his finger landed on, curious to what contents the vague title held.

A romantic novel from the looks of it.

The words were needlessly descriptive, the dialogue a little confusing to understand. Such flowery language was a bit bold and the more he read, the more the imagery they tried to paint became vivid in his mind and—

Xiao quickly shut the book, his face warm as he neatly returned the book to its rightful place. Well, it was an interesting book to have in your possession, to say the least. He didn’t have much experience with what it described, but the erotic imagery the dialogue described still left his face a little flushed and brows furrowed as he huffed in indignance at his flustered state.

Mortals do such things? Well, he knew they did, but he was never one to look into it more since he had no reason to.

He had no experience in such intimate matters, nor did he pay much interest in them with his hands usually full on a daily basis. Yet, somehow the thought of you now caused a swirl of emotions inexperienced by him before. Or rather, if he did, he no longer remembered. New questions piled up in his mind.

He shook his head, practically wincing at the odd sensations that kicked him low in the gut as the heat rising high on his cheeks subsided.

“How bothersome,” Xiao muttered to himself with a sigh.

On that same train of thought, he glanced out the window. The sun was merely a whisper that remained as it tucked itself farther behind mountains and dipped below the horizon.

Gloved hands momentarily clenched by his sides, flexing to ease the small seed of doubt. Mortals were unpredictable and reckless, that much he was aware of. With a sigh he watched as the sky over Liyue settled into the tranquility of night.

Though night had fallen, there was still no sign of you returning.

And so, Xiao set off on his usual routine. Out he ventured to vanquish the scattered hotspots of evil activity that surfaced. Be it from subdued gods or his own karma, Xiao relentlessly made quick work of any and all evil.

It was his eternal duty, as bound by contract from the Geo Archon himself—this he knew. If anyone should have witnessed his swiftness as he worked solemnly, they would’ve noticed how he worked just a little harder to clear out any evil nearing your usual route home.

The moon rose high in the sky, a dusty blue as it cast soft light over Xiao’s masked form. His polearm jabbed into the ground and dissipated along with the yaksha mask he donned for battle. The roads that led back to Qingce Village were all cleared, yet still no sign of you.

Approaching the marsh under blue moonlight, his gloved hands created ripples in the calm surface. The reflection of his concerned eyes stared right back at him through the tumultuous ripples that distorted his reflection over playful waters.

Under the watchful eye of the moon, Xiao diligently washed away the impurities that remained on him from battle. Clear waters surrounding him became murky before clearing once again as the blood and grime was carried further down with the current. Xiao closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask under the moonlight, taking in the rare moment of tranquility.

And then it rang out, soft and clear like a wind chime dancing with the gentle breeze.

Adeptus Xiao.

Shrouded by darkness, he answered your summons. As the thin veil of dark entity surrounding him dispersed, he found himself next to a bridge. The waterfall behind him brought a refreshing breeze, and just beyond him he could see Bubu Pharmacy below as well as the harbor.

“You called,” Xiao inquired. “It’s fairly late.”

He wasn’t here to admonish you, though it sounded very much like it. With a playful grin, you smiled up at him from where you sat on the grass next to the bridge.

The way you carried yourself without a care in the world— it was almost endearing how you looked up at him with such fondness.

“Can I ask why you’re here of all places?”

Your nimble fingers continued their work on the flowers you had in your lap, and you almost looked away bashfully. “I wanted to gaze at the stars for a bit,” you admitted sheepishly. “I finished my errands earlier, but then I ran into Mister Zhongli from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and, well… The conversation went on for a while and we ended up here.”

Silently, Xiao took a seat next to you, eyeing the handful of glaze lilies that softly glowed on your lap.

“What did you talk about?” he inquired to fill the silence. He delicately twirled one of the glaze lilies between his gloved fingers.

“Oh… this and that,” you shrugged.

Xiao hummed in response, not wanting to pry into the conversation, until he felt the softness of petals brushing his forehead.

“Mister Zhongli… he showed me how to make this.” There was hesitation in your downcast eyes, and you peered up at him through your eyelashes. “Do you like it?”

“A crown of… glaze lilies,” Xiao noted slowly. Their soft fragrance was delicate and sweet, like the gentle presence of the moon. It reminded him of you. “I’m unfamiliar with mortal customs of exchanges. Is it an adeptal offering?”

You blinked, taken by surprise at the question before sputtering out in a fit of giggles.

“Oh– No, no! This is what we call a gift.”

Xiao furrowed his brows, taking in this vague description. “Hm… I see. What meaning does this gift have?”

You perched your chin on your finger, contemplating. The only ‘gifts’ adepti were familiar with were the offerings that few who went before them brought. Usually, an offering entailed the bargaining of a mortal’s wants and desires to come true. Selfish, wishes he was all too familiar with hearing often.

“Gifts are given to people you consider special,” you started. “To those people who are important to you, usually you put extra effort into the gift. Handmade gifts as well… embody special significance since they hold all the feelings poured into them to be given to your special person.”

The chirps of crickets and running water soothed over the momentary silence as he took in your explanation. Mortal customs were more emotionally driven than he once thought.

“I see. Then,” Xiao delicately tucked the glaze lily he held into your hair. “This is my small offering.”

The rose that dusted your cheeks as your grin lit up your features, it bloomed his chest with that foreign warmth. The weight of reciprocating the gesture without a second thought— he had just openly admitted to considering you a special person. It felt… right.

In the lateness of the cool night, you both sat side by side looking out at the display of glittering stars. He felt as your pulse would briefly quicken under his gloved hand whenever you stole a quick glance at him, and he would offer a gentle squeeze of reassurance in response. Curious, this human next to him— and yet he found himself enraptured by your simple presence.

Across the endless sky, you halted what you were idly chatting about as a speckle of light shot across the sky.

“A falling star… There’s rumors that making a wish on them will help it come true.” Xiao hummed in response, eyes closed in peaceful tranquility. “Hm…”

You pulled your knees closer to you as you contemplated your wish. Xiao watched you with one eye open, observing the way your features subtly scrunched up as you profoundly debated within you what your wish would be.

“So.”

“So?”

“What did you wish for?” Xiao asked quietly.

Mortal desires were usually the same. Wealth, power, lavish items— these wishes Xiao had heard of many times before. Yet—

“I wished…,” you scratched your cheek sheepishly. “I wished for a restful sleep.”

Your cheeks were quick to flush a deep crimson as you heard what sounded like a chuckle next to you. It dawned on you that you had never heard Xiao laugh until now. It was melodic, innocent.

“D-Don’t laugh!” you halfheartedly admonished with a playful huff. “Well, then— What’s your wish, Xiao?”

He pondered for a moment, closed his eyes and spoke soft as the flitting breeze.

“I wish to get to know you better.”

Perhaps he didn’t have all the right words at that moment, but he was bound to discover them sooner or later. Somehow, he was sure you would be the light that guided him the right way to go about these foreign feelings— feelings he was sure weren’t malignant, so he allowed them to persist.

These unsorted feelings for you... they weren’t getting in the way of anything. They were harmless, until proven otherwise.

#xiao #xiao x reader #xiao/reader #genshin xiao #genshin #fluff #developing relationship #pwp #eventual smut #mostly xiao not knowing what he’s doing #zhongli #genshin impact #fic: iasfao #mii writes #I forget how to tag sorry it’s been a while #adeptus xiao #I’ll edit format later

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