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short-yandere-stories · 2 years

Note

okay so---i read the lil fic of reader friendzoning sebastian and i saw your requests were open so here I AM-

Could I get a fanfic of Sebastian with a reader who ✨does✨ have a crush on him but ignores his advances because she happens to have a rather low self-esteem and simply "doesn't want to get the wrong idea" —if possible? if you can't either way it's cool .u.

I am so glad you're here! :D And hoo boy I can recognize myself in that for sure and this would 100% be me hands down. Also sorry for the tiiiiime this has taken meeeeee ugh life is. Annoying. Something I do know for certain, however, is that a yandere Sebastian would not stand for any low self-esteem. Especially not from someone as wonderful and perfect as you.

This can be read as a standalone thing or sort of a continuation of the last one!

Yandere is mainly at the very end because it became just so nice and soft and aaaaahh

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

SFW, no major TW/CW, but mentions reader with low self-esteem feeling insecure and disliking themselves. :✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

"Not Good Enough for Me?"

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

"Milady, are you alright? You've been staring through that window for quite some time now." Jumping at the sudden voice, you turn around, gaze landing on the tall, elegant butler peeking in through your door. At your acknowledgment, he takes a step into your room, closing the door behind him with a soft 'click'.

"You have not moved from this spot since at least about half an hour ago. I saw you standing there while I assisted Finnian in the gardens." You look away, nervously picking at the skin around your nails. "I'm fine," you say with a forced laugh. "Just got lost in thought I guess." Slowly, Sebastian moves closer to you, making sure that you can clearly see him at any point. He closely monitors your body language, ready to stop the second he sees you flinching or turning away.

"Is it about my confession during the afternoon tea last afternoon?" He asks, hitting the nail on its head. He has to keep a chuckle in as you wince. "I meant no disrespect or harm, I can assure you," he continued. "And if I have made you uncomfortable with any of my advances, I-" "No!" You yelp, cutting him off. You snap around to finally look at him, eyes wide in a panic and hands thrown up in front of you, waving in dismissal. "I mean..." you continue in a timid tone, cheeks heating up at your outburst.

"You didn't make me uncomfortable at all, Sebastian," you say, eyes pleading with him to believe you. "It was actually really sweet and it made me extremely happy to hear. I just..." you trail off, looking down at the floor, unable to keep his gaze any longer.

"I just don't think you'd want to be with someone like me." Your voice grows increasingly quiet the longer the sentence goes on, and even Sebastian with his demonic powers and enhanced senses has to strain to catch your words.

"What?" he breathes, confusion and bewilderment etched on his face.

You turn back to face the window, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt of comfort, trying your hardest to keep the tears threatening to form at bay.

"I just... I'm nothing special. I'm not really pretty or smart... I'm clumsy and mess up, and I can't ever do anything right." Tears blur your vision as you try to keep your voice from shaking. "I don't know why you'd want to be with me," you confess, finally, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"You deserve someone better than me."

If he had a heart in the same way that humans do, Sebastian was sure that it would have shattered upon hearing those words. How had he missed your feelings in regard to yourself like this? The anger he felt aimed towards himself for missing such a crucial thing had completely blocked out the meaning of your words for a moment until they finally registered. You loved him. More than that, you'd avoided his advances and tried to push him aside not because you didn't reciprocate, but because you didn't think you were good enough.

In a flash, he's by your side, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you into his chest. Your hands weakly cling to his waistcoat, tears wetting the fabric of his shirt. "Sweetheart," he whispers, raising one gloved hand to pet your hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not noticing how you felt about yourself and adding to that burden," he begins, holding your crying form close. "But you're wrong. About all of it." You cry harder and try to push him away, but he doesn't budge.

"You are special. So very special to me, darling, you don't even know half of it. You have the most beautiful soul of any person I have ever met. I love every single part of you. I love the color of your eyes, the way your entire face lights up when you smile. I love your mind and the way it works. Sure, you mess up sometimes, but every human does! It has never once made me think less of you. If anything, watching you trip over nothing only makes me see you as even more endearing than before." Relaxing his hold on you enough for him to bend down and look you in the eyes, he continues. "I love everything about you, flaws and all. I wouldn't change anything about you." One of his hands wipes away a few tears from your cheek before gently cradling it in his palm.

"There is no one that could be 'better for me' than you. You're perfect in my eyes. I hope that I can make you see that too, someday," he whispers.

More tears flow down your cheeks, and for a moment, Sebastian thinks that he has done something wrong, but then your face cracks into a smile. "Do you really mean that?" you ask meekly. "Or are you just saying it to make me feel better?" Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Sebastian leans in and presses his cold lips against yours. For a moment, you're unresponsive, frozen in shock. Then, your hands grab his shoulders, and you kiss back.

The feeling of your soft, warm lips against his is something Sebastian has dreamed of for so long. He can barely believe that it's happening. Your warmth, the softness of your body pressed against him is everything he ever wanted.

Possessive thoughts flash through his mind, solidifying what he already knew. This was where you belonged. By his side, in his arms. With him, forever. He would make sure that your thoughts never hurt you ever again. No matter how many times he had to reassure you, hold you, and help push those negative feelings aside, he would.

You were finally his. You finally reciprocated his feelings, and Sebastian would be damned if he let anything -- your own thoughts included -- hurt you.

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

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dreamingofaizawa · 15 days

Text

Never Let Him Go

Szayelaporro Granz x Arrancar! Reader

Warnings: None, just some fluffy falling in love and shii

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's Note: Well it would seem I'm obsessed with Bleach. No, this is not medically accurate LMAO I'm no doctor and these are hollows. Yeah there's a whole lot more coming lmao be prepared (I'm also working on another Shouta Aizawa fic from MHA but you didn't hear that from meeeeee)

Enjoy~

You’d heard the speech that the weird looking Soul Reaper Captain had rattled on about. You’d waited until they all left, until he’d taken the injured and was sated rummaging through Master Szayelaporro’s lab. You had to wait, no matter how close the Master was to dying, or you’d die as well and then there was no saving him at all. When you’d finally been able to tend to him, he was still frozen in that pose, one arm outstretched and a broken zanpakuto piercing his palm and chest. You used your abilities to see into his chest cavity, thanking whatever higher being there could be in this universe the zanpakuto had only barely sliced into his heart.

He’d live, as long as you could make it back to the medical lab.

Carefully, you pulled the Zanpakuto out and away from the organ, using your small bit of healing abilities to seal the wounded tissue. He’d lost his resurrecion sometime between the shinigami departing and now, the form shattering and reverting back to its blade at his hip. It only takes you a moment, slipping one of his arms over your shoulders and wrapping your arm around his waist, in a short series of sonido to get to your personal lab, away from Las Noches, far far away in the depths of the Menos Forest where not even Lord Aizen would care much to venture. Not for you, and not for the Espada he’s probably written off as dead.

___

How long has it been? Years, surely. Nothing ever moved, not until he’d noticed something was in a different place than it used to be. It all faded into a blur, his wish for death taking far too long to come to fruition. And then, he’d spotted you. You, moving ever so slowly toward him in the rubble. It took months for you to reach him. You were running, straight toward him. His mind protests when you start to examine him, for years he screams in his mind when you reach for the blade piercing his chest, and his hatred builds for you once the blade is free. Surely, you weren’t cruel enough to keep him alive. Between the months of your slowed motions, he realizes he recognizes you. You weren’t assigned as his fraccion, no you weren’t assigned at all to anyone. You were one of those odd medic fraccions, one that spent some time in his own lab just observing and attending to his subjects when they weren’t able to remain awake. You…what the hell did you think you were doing? Your movement suddenly got faster, taking hours instead of months. A sonido? He could almost see the fluidity of the motions, almost actually see them move! That alone put a nasty spark of hope in his mind, one he quickly squashed.

Then he was on a table, and you were all over the place. An eternity you’d spent hovering over him, spreading ointments, flashing lights, gazing into his eyes. In those eons he spent face to face with you, his hatred and anger dissipated, replaced with dreadful curiosity. You were trying to save him? Why? You had no obligation to do so, and should Aizen find out you may be killed. But… He hasn’t found out yet? It’s been so long since that battle with Captain Mayuri Kibutsuchi, how does Aizen not know? Belatedly, he remembers his perception of time is skewed, dragged out impossibly long. And yet, he can see things still happening around him. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to reverse this plague.

Another eon passes, your body hunched over the counter in the lab. He can only guess what you’re doing, with your body blocking everything to his gaze. His hand has been moved, in the time he’s been laying there, and rests on his chest. The ache that formed there was ebbing slowly away, the pain he’d been feeling for a millennia finally dulling down. It’s like he can breathe again. And then you’re above him again, your eyes boring into his own. He’d long determined that you were looking for any kind of reaction in his eyes. If anything you were doing had any effect on his drugged state.

It’s a very long time you spend, your nose almost touching his own. It’s all he can do to examine your face, commit to memory every pore, every follicle, even the ridges of your iris he sears into his brain. You’re beautiful, he muses. He’s been staring at your form for decades, noting the way your hair falls over your face, how your lashes fall gently over your supple cheeks with every week-long blink, how the single tear you’d produced falls down to your chin and slips into the collar of your uniform. He notes your dedication to saving him. To him, you’ve been spending thousands of years tending to him. He sees your need to save him, sees the desperation forming in your eyes, relief and sadness and frustration. You’re so very beautiful, in all your emotions. He reflects on his own desperation for perfection, thinks upon his life as an espada. What had he been searching and experimenting so hard and long for? Perfection. But perfection was not a result, not a single end product to work toward. That fool Mayuri was wrong, perfection was a state of being, an acceptance, but why had he spent so much time on it when perfection was right here? You were right here the whole time.

Your hands were delicate, where they lay over him. Your footfalls light and your hips swaying gently. Your movements, however slow, were gentle and meticulous. It felt as though you were worshiping his body, trying to save him from this eternal hell.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he falls in love with you.

___

You’ve stretched every resource thin. You don’t know what to do. Nothing is working, adrenaline shots do nothing, and there’s no way of knowing what that captain had used to create this potion of his. It’s been days. You’ve spent days with Szayel, hooked him up to an air regulator and a hollow’s equivalent of a ‘pacemaker’ to keep his heart and lungs going. An IV is keeping his nutrition up, but there’s nothing else you can do. You’re stuck. You need to think. You’d already taken blood samples to try to pinpoint the poison, but nothing makes any sense to you. All of these things are foreign to you, the compounds in his blood not having broken down at all. Wait. They should have broken down by now, surely. They can’t remain in his bloodstream forever, right? Maybe they won’t dissipate on their own. Maybe, just maybe, you can take it out.With that, you get to work. It takes a few hours, but you've managed it. A filter that removes all traces of the toxin from the blood. All that’s left to do is hook it to a centrifuge and filter his blood through it. This will work, right? It has to work.

___

There’s something in your eyes. He can see it. Determination, hope, that flicker of brilliance when an idea finally comes to you. You’re everywhere, tubes and needles and…a centrifuge? What on earth could you be doing? In all this time, he’s been resolved to the fact that all you’ve been doing is tending his wounds and keeping him alive. But what is this? What else could you do for him? You’re working tirelessly. It takes him far too long to understand, once all of the pieces of your puzzle are completed. It’s only when you’ve put two needles into his body, and the blood begins to flow through the tubes up into the machine that he understands.

You were removing the poison from his bloodstream, manually. It could be genius. You must have found something important, something crucial, to be taking such a measure. The poison infecting him must not be diluting in his body, lingering just as strong as the initial infection. So you’ve decided to take it out by force. You couldn’t be more perfect, the little genius you are.

When his blood, now filtered, finds its way back down the other tube and starts to enter his bloodstream, it’s an instantaneous effect. His memories are processing now, he can remember all of the movements and words you’d poured over him like he hadn’t been living an agonizingly slow existence. The memories are playing in his mind at full speed, his brain is processing things fully for the first time in what feels like millions of years.

___

You can see it working. His chest is rising and falling on its own, the machine regulating his breathing no longer whirring as loudly to help his lungs inflate. The ‘pacemaker’ you’d put in with your special abilities is dissipating, no longer necessary for him to live. And he’s blinking, actually blinking. Slowly, but still. It’s working! You watch your screen carefully, and as you approach 70% of his blood filtered he begins to move his limbs, one hand slowly reaching up and pulling the mask off his mouth. He’s trying to say something, but you only shush him.

“Hold on just a little bit longer, Master Szayelaporro. I promise, it’s almost done. Just a few more minutes and you’re free.” He relaxes after that, allowing you to finish up your little filtering job and finally, finally, the machine beeps and your screen flashes with those beautiful numbers. 100% of his blood has been cycled through and filtered, a vial of that poison sat in the centrifuge. It’s done. You look back at him, only to find he’d yanked the mask off his face and removed the needles from his arms, completely disconnecting himself from the machine. He was standing right behind you, and as you turned you couldn’t help the beaming smile on your face, tears beginning to streak down your cheeks.

___

It was the most beautiful sight he’s seen, your tears falling at a normal speed and your smile brighter than the false sun Aizen had created. He reached out and cupped your face in his palm, and when you leaned into it he couldn’t help the way his heart thumped against his ribcage. That made his breath shudder, the feeling of his heart actually beating, instead of the low, constant rush of blood flowing rhythmically for months and months without end.

___

“Master Szayelaporro? How are you feeling?” His hand on your cheek made your heart flutter, but you had to ignore it all. You grasped that hand, removing it in favor of holding it in both your hands at your chest. His voice catches in his throat, which must be exceedingly dry, so you reach over to the glass of water you’d had waiting and let him sip at it. The glass is placed behind you on the desk and he finally speaks.

“I feel like kissing you.” You gasp, and before you can even think about it he’s doing just that, kissing absolutely breathless. His lips are chapped just a little, but they’re insistent and gentle and refuse to leave your own. His hands find any part of you to grab, your hips, arms, shoulders, fingers caressing your neck and cheeks and threading through your hair. You’re stunlocked, only able to clutch at his shoulders as he smothers you. You’re gasping when he finally lets up, heart pounding in your chest.

“M-master Szayelaporro, what’s gotten into you?” He leans down and places his forehead on yours, noses touching and he sighs into your pace.

“You must know how that felt for me, being under that curse.” You nod. You heard the rant, the explanation. It must have felt like years upon years while he was lying still on that table.

“Then you should understand that while you were working on me, I’d spent millennia watching you, memorizing everything about you.” What is he getting at? This does not sound like the same Szayelaporro that you’d known only days ago.

“I have spent what feels like hundreds of thousands of years staring at you in all your beauty. You, you beautiful creature, brilliant and gorgeous, and…” his hands move to your waist and squeeze, “and soft. So soft.” Then he’s kissing you again, stealing your breath away and clutching your hips like you’ll disappear if he lets go. It’s dizzying, the affection he’s lathering you with. You’ve never once heard this man give any sort of compliment or praise to anything or anyone other than himself. Had he really changed that much in such a short time? Then, the realization hits just how long he must have been trapped in his own head. He’d said hundreds of thousands of years. If that is how long his perception of these few days have stretched out, then of course he’d be a completely different person. His entire being has been altered by the passage of time.

“Please, Master Szayelaporro, you need to rest.” You gently push at his shoulders to separate from his lips, as much as you loathe to do so. He really does need to rest.

“Just Szayel is fine, my love. I’m no espada, not anymore. And I’m never going back to that place.” You smile up at him, and he can’t help but smile back, that grin brighter than the moon that hangs in the sky of Hueco Mundo. You reach up and brush back the pink hair that’s fallen over his face, tucking it neatly behind his ear.

“I never got the chance to tell you how pretty you are, Szayel.” That’s no lie, he’s a beautiful man. You’ve been harboring a crush on him for years now, but you knew he’d never reciprocate it under normal circumstances. You were just another fraccion, not even one of his own. Content to just exist, barely in his orbit, you allowed yourself to dare to dream about telling him just how gorgeous you thought he was. Not to mention just how intelligent he is. His experiments may be chaotic, maybe even cruel sometimes, but he is no doubt a genius. Until now, he’d never shown capabilities of any emotion other than annoyance or distaste, and the occasional joy with a successful experiment. But now, he’s everything you wanted and more.

“Well it’s a good thing you’ve waited until now. I’d like to know something else though.” He glances at you, hopeful.

“Anything.”

“Can I kiss you again?” The giggle that slips past your lips is swallowed by his own, your agreeing nod interrupted by a slow, sensual, searing kiss. One thought runs through your mind, finally able to accept such affection from the man you’ve been craving for so long.

You never want to let him go.

#szayelaporro granz #bleach szayel #szayelaporro x reader #szayelaporro granz x reader #szayelaporro bleach #bleach x reader

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mazeinthemiroh · 2 years

Text

Square Pants

Genre: San x Reader, crack, slight angst, essentially a chaotic mess

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, chaotic drunk behaviour, cursing

Requested?: Yes

Summary: You give San a tattoo when you are both drunk.

Author's Notes: I found this hilarious to write lmao anyways lemme know what you think. I'm not sure about the pacing of this one, whether it was too quick or not. Let me know your thoughts on that. Anways, hope you all have fun reading this!

"Just trust me, bro."

"Did you just call me bro??"

You and your boyfriend had recently tumbled back into the apartment you shared, both drunk off your faces from drinking the whole night. Currently, you were both in the bathroom, cackling with laughter at the situation you found yourselves in.

In your hand: a tattoo gun. You were a former tattoo artist, so you knew a thing or two about giving people tattoos. Or, at least, you did when you were sober. But being shitfaced and undertaking this task was something incredibly challenging (and extremely stupid, might I add).

"Just trust meeeeee" you groaned loudly, stumbling a bit where you stood. Apparently standing still wasn't an option you quite understood. And so, you unintentionally rocked backwards and forwards on your feet as you got the tattoo gun ready.

Your boyfriend sat waiting. He was perched up on the side of the bathtub, barely able to balance his own body even though he was sitting!

"I've done this a million times, Sannie" you say, not to reassure him but rather to brag about your past achievements. Whatever the intention, San was in another world of his own.

"I want Spongebob," he stated decisively.

"Spongebob?" You giggled hysterically at the idea, "you want me to tattoo Spongebob on you?"

"Yeah, and what's your point?" San questioned, pouting defensively now.

"Squidward is better," you stuck your tongue out. The tattoo gun was ready to use. "Where do you want it?"

San pretended to think, although really he was staring up at the ceiling and wondering what type of lightbulbs were used for the lights. LED? Halogen? Incandescent?

"What type of lightbulbs do we have?"

"Does it matter?" You questioned, your tone exasperated now, "Hurry up, I'm getting borrrreeed."

"Fine," he whined defeatedly, looking down from the fascinating lights that hung above him. "On my neck."

You rolled your eyes but didn't question it. And so, you got to work. San was used to the pain of getting a tattoo, since this wasn't his first time.

"I bet they are filament light bulbs," he said, his eyes now fixated back on the lights. You were perplexed as to why he found such an odd obsession, but you were too drunk to even care.

In no time at all, the tattoo had been done. San somehow sunk into the bathtub fully clothed, now passed out. Perhaps it was because of the pain. Perhaps it was because it was 2 am. Or, quite possibly, and more realistically, it was because having this amount of alcohol in him exhausted him.

So you left him to it. Leaving him in the bath, you chucked a towel on him so he wouldn't get cold and walked out, going into the living room and flopping onto the couch. Both of you snored, loudly.

And it was about 8 in the morning when San woke up. He blinked his eyes open a let out a low groan. His body ached so badly and he could barely keep his eyes open due to the light pouring into the bathroom.

And it was then that he realised where he was.

He opened his eyes fully and whisked his head around to see that he was in fact in a bathtub. He tumbled out of there reluctantly and made his way out of the bathroom and into the living room, where you lay on the couch, snoring your head off, as was the custom after a night out drinking.

San gazed at you and smiled lightly. These drunken nights happened all too often with you, and every instance shared some crazy story that you would both either agree to forget about, or forget about it through no will of your own. It was entirely down to fate. And by fate, of course, I mean the influence of alcohol. Same thing, really.

Knock, knock, knock.

San couldn't think who was at the door. He scrambled through his brain to grasp some actual, coherent thought, but found nothing but an empty void of half-written thoughts and glimmers of last night, not piecing anything together at all. And so he headed for the front door reluctantly, knowing you were still asleep even despite the loud knocks.

On the other side of the door revealed Wooyoung. Oh yeah, San thought, I forgot he was supposed to pick me up this morning.

"Sup," Wooyoung barged in, eyes glued to his phone, his mind already preoccupied, "you ready to go?"

"No," San held his head in one hand as he shut the front door with the other. This headache wasn't going to shake off anytime soon. "Lemme just pack my stuff, okay?"

"What's the matter with you," Wooyoung whined, now looking up from his phone. Only to drop it out of his hands.

"San, what the fuck!"

San looked perplexed at his friend, peaking over at him with strained eyes. Why the sudden outburst? What did he see? What did he know?

"What?" San looked at his friend, perplexed and impatient all at once.

He watched as his friend shrieked with laughter, gripping his stomach with the amount of hilarity he found the situation to be in. San groaned and held his head again, "can you shut up, my head hurts." But all he got in return was a louder, obnoxious laugh. Was he doing this on purpose?

"Oh my gosh," Wooyoung wiped a stray tear away from the effort of laughing, "Hongjoong is going to absolutely kill you."

"What?" San's heart dropped, his mind blurry when envisioning Hongjoong's stern disapproving face about something he didn't know he had done. "What did I do? What is it??"

Wooyoung looked at his friend in disbelief and snorted, "go to the bathroom and have a look at yourself."

You woke up to a loud shout coming from the bathroom area. Your hair was a mess and all over your face as you rolled off of the couch, cocooned in a blanket that covered your whole body. You had one eye open and one eye shut as you walked over to the bathroom, seeing Wooyoung leaning again the door frame intently.

"What's happened?" You mumbled weakly, disorientated from having woken up not seconds ago. On peaking into the bathroom, your blanket dropped from around you, and now both of your eyes were open and wide with shock.

"Oh my god."

Wooyoung quirked his eyebrow up in amusement as you made your way over to your boyfriend, who stared at his newly tattooed neck in disbelief.

"Well, you two clearly can't be trusted alone if this is what you get up to," Wooyoung looked at his nails casually while his friend stared in disbelief at the mirror in front of him.

"I have to go on stage in 5 hours and I have a Spongebob tattoo on my neck," San said, unnervingly calm now. There was nothing more he could do but stare, but all he wanted to do was cry.

"I mean," you started, "to be fair... I did a pretty good job."

San whisked his head over at you aggressively, making you take a step back.

"I agree," Wooyoung chimed in, "for a person who was drunk off their mind, your hand was very steady. Spongebob definitely has square pants." You managed to stifle a laugh.

"Neither of you are helping," San cried as he angled his head to see more of his neck before wincing at the sight.

Sprinting to your bedroom, you grabbed all the makeup you could. With the help of Wooyoung and the slow acceptance of San, he remained still while the both of you got to work on his neck. No amount of concealer was ever going to cover the tattoo fully, but it did help with the appearance, at least.

"That's all we can do for now," you pulled away having a look at his neck for one last time, "your makeup artists will have to work their magic to make it invisible."

San groaned again at the thought of Hongjoong's face of horror and anger, which was much more clearer in his mind now. "I'll get kicked out of the group and become an old maid."

You rolled your eyes, "no you won't silly." You both looked at Wooyoung's grinning face as he put away the makeup products.

"I'm glad you find this funny, Woo," San shook his head disapprovingly, giving him a playful punch on the arm.

"Don't worry," you whispered in your boyfriend's ear as the three of you neared the front door to leave, "I'll give him a tattoo next time."

#san #choi san #crack #ateez #kpop #atz #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #ateez crack #kpop crack #ateez x reader #kpop x reader #san x reader #choi san x reader #atz x reader #atz scenarios

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yuukei-yikes · 1 year

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i was thinking abt how ayano and shintaro r the only two characters who ever die by suicide (shintaro is only in some routes but STILL.) and like how that's a way of showing that they had the potential to understand each other (bc in my opinion they r actually very similar) but not until either of them were dead. idk does this make sense? i just thought of this today so this thought isnt very refined yet i need to think abt it more

they ARE similar!!!!! i totally agree. shintaro and ayano are totally similar people. they're both Justice Seekers but are so depressed and have such horrible self worth they can't actually be proactive about things. but then they are :3

i wish we got ayano pov from hs and why she liked shintaro. I've always thought ayano's crush on him is...cute!!! because she's literally going thru the horrors, her mom died, her dad is being Strange, and she has to take care of the house and her siblings all alone PLUS later learning of all the horrible stuff about the daze and clearing. and yet. she's also a normal hs girl who has a silly crush on her classmate. not that we ever saw it but i definitely think ayano got to see at least once the shintaro we see who fights for good and doesn't let fear get to him like when he yells at the fucking terrorists or acts all cool when they face clearing in the novels. i think ayano got to see shintaro being Heroic or whatever and she was like THIS is the kind of guy we need to be recruiting in the mekakushi dan🔥🔥🔥 like seriously im delusional abt this but i think there should be a shinaya backstory abt this.

man i wish we saw more hs shinaya😭😭😭😭😭 im so mad that they only ever show shintaro being a fucking asshole lord in hs like im not rooting for you bitch FAST FORWARD NOW but the fact ayano knows shintaro likes music and shoujo manga etcetc its clear ayano and shintaro had normal ass conversations all the time. SHOW THEM TO MEEEEEE whatever. i dont even care <- cares

anyways i just wanted to say i think ayano does Kind of understand shintaro. i also wish we saw ayano think of shintaro in the entire conjecture with clearing eyes killing haruka and takane and her sacrificing herself for them and the mekatrio. Go listen to full disclosure from steven universe and you will understand my ayano vision for this. sorry that was weird. i think ayano wanted to keep shintaro as uninvolved as possible, haruka and takane were inevitably already in it. she just wanted to make sure to take them Out of it but shintaro.. i think ayano always had the feeling shintaro would get involved. i think ayano gravitates towards shintaro because she needed help and she needed a hero and deep down she knew this was him. but she never manages to properly reach out or even understand it i guess. but i think ayano did understand shintaro maybe even more he understood himself. on the other hand shintaro DID NOT understand ayano AT ALL but like you said, he could have. who knows how things had gone if shintaro had walked in when he saw ayano crying in the classroom!!! imagine ayano managing to pour her heart out and tell him what's gonna happen to their friends and her family. he would've helped. shintaro would've done something. but ayano wouldn't want him to bc he would get hurt but at the same time she WOULD want him to because she's so scared and alone and desperate for help *holds head *

also i always make myself insane abt shintaro and ayano being depressed legends who wanna die. while haruka and takane struggle with health problems and want to Live So Badly. sorry for bringing up harutaka Hi its me tumblr user yuukei yikes vinnie i will ALWAYS make it about harutaka. i just wanted to say that. shinaya who wanna die and tragedy arises from never meeting in the middle and not being able to understand each other vs harutaka who wanna live more than anything and tragedy arises from being forcibly separated.

ayano's words to takane when she's projecting so hard. there are times you want to tell someone something but you wind up being too late. ayano was never gonna say anything to shintaro because she didnt Want to. she knew what she was going to the roof for. while takane immediately makes a run for it to say something to haruka, she is just too late and has no control over her fate. whatever im normal!

#ask tag #kagenalysis #shinaya

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