sometimes i feel real sexy & get in a mood. & i wish i had someone to kinda dirty talk to but i realise i dont really like it. i dont want it to be like gross dirty talk. i want it to be the poetry type of dirty talk. talking about the curve of my body, the shape of my lips & breasts. the smattering of freckles all over. the tips of my fingers & the feel of my hair. & how nice i smell. i want to be appreciated & loved slowly, delicately. iâd like someone to know what theyâre doing or at least learn. i want sensual, i need depth. everythingâs so crast & raw in a dark sort of mentally demeaning way. im a needy person, a needy person for love & cheekiness, childlike playfulness. i need the attention & affection, the appreciation & physical support. i need love like a child. that soft, sweet, ill be by your side, ill help you. ill be there & youâre brilliant type of love, & honey oh fuck will i replenish it tenfold.
I really love the concept of the hope chest when adapted to modern values. Putting aside nice things in a chest as you grow up so that when you move out you have things to make a home with???? like???? sign me up?????
ok i need to rant about this for a quick sec bc i donât think yâall UNDERSTAND.Â
hope chests were something young women would do in their teens in the 19th/early 20th century. basically they would collect, make, and be gifted homemaking supplies throughout their teens; things like cutlery, china, quilts, jam jars, pillowcases, sheets, pots and pans, etc. They would keep all these in a big olâ chest so that when they married and moved to live with their husbands and start a family, they already had a bunch of homemaking equipment.Â
now adapt this to modern ideals and ???!!!!! having a chest you slowly build up throughout your teens of things youâd like to furnish your future home with ????????? you spot a cute tea towel in a thrift store and in it goes. a painting your parents wonât let you hang up?? paint chips of the colour your future kitchen will be painted?? salt shakers you think are super cute but your parents hate?? It all goes in your hope chest to remind you to have hope that one day this will be your life????????!!!!!!! hello!!!!?!!?!? HELLO!?!?!??!?
I did this; not through my teens, but through the time I was getting my degrees. Some in literal chests, but mostly in storage tote bins. And when I got my house, and got to unpack eight years of things Iâd laid aside for my future self to use, it was like christmas morning but all the gifts were exactly what I wanted.
Obviously thereâs ranges of scale that this is doable, but if youâre in a transient period of your life, working towards something more permanent in the future: get yourself a box, and put something for that person into it.
Hey btw, to new writers who want to write angst: Nothing illustrates darkness as well as sparse and brilliant highlights.
If you want to write a character with an unspeakably awful past, there's no need to go into deep and gory details about how horrible it was. Readers who can't relate to it won't relate to that, and the readers who have been there generally don't want to see that. Instead, highlight some of their happiest moments but make them unsettlingly small.
Sprinkles in some realism, too. Having a character go "my parents were abusive monsters and I've literally never had a happy moment in my life" isn't realistic, and both the people who haven't witnessed that kind of thing outside of fiction, and the people who have personally lived it will just go "yeah, yeah, tragic childhood, misery, darkness, we've all seen it", and being nothing but negative makes the character both uninteresting and unlikeable.
Now, having someone casually think or say shit like "I think my happiest childhood memory was that christmas when dad was in prison. Nobody was yelling or throwing anything and mom was sober the whole time", and be genuinely surprised by other peoples' concerned reactions - now jesus christ that's bleak.
You know that Ada LimĂłn poem where sheâs like âi canât help it i love the way men loveâ? my dad recently confessed to me that he became a shoemaker because they buried my grandma shoeless
what to expect: "all this time, week after week, iâve made it so clear what i feel for you, xiao. and before every week ends, all iâve wanted is to see something even remotely similar in you andâ"
genre: fluff, some angst, suggestive towards the end, xiao highkey OOC but see if i care
note: OOOO boy,,,,, been writing four like 4 hours now and im just about ready to drop dead. but she is here!!!! my baby, my child, possibly my newest favorite piece for xiao.... will proofread this later but i hope this makes you feel what it made me feel <3
-
you arenât oblivious to xiao, you really arenât. really, you dote on xiao if anything and somehow, he manages to be the awe-striking lone star of your night sky while also being the sole bane of your entire existence. you dote on xiao because he isnât running his words through his head before he says them, albeit the slight droop of his neck when he realizes heâs said what heâs thinking never fails to make you want to kiss him silly. the xiao you love is simple to love, he loves his truth and you love him.
âgod, he confuses me,â you groan into the fabric of your pillowcase, a not pleasant reminder to the back of your head to get around to doing laundry before the week ends. which is not a lot of time because youâd slept your way through saturday. sunday came around but xiao didnât, which is disappointing because youâd invited him over to your room for a movie night.
âare you positive you said sunday?â questions lumine, kicking the frayed ends of the purple dreamcatcher youâd bought her last summer. ânot next sunday? or monday?â
scoffing at the crinkle of doubt in her tone, you throw a cushion at her face. âfor the last time, i remember clear as day telling him if heâd like to maybe like to spend some time with me in my room on sunday.â
lumine shoots up from her bed, wide eyes fixed on you, âwait, youâre telling me you asked xiao to spend time in your room? on a weekend? i thought you said it was a movie night.â
you roll over, tapping the screen of your phone, sighing with dismay when you see itâs 10:17, two hours past the time you were to meet him. heâs definitely not coming, you think as you try to melt your thoughts away.
âi asked you something, y/n,â lumineâs voice is closer to you when she speaks this time, âyou know xiao, heâs not going to pick up on your arbitrary cues like âspending time in my roomâ means casual movie-watching and âgoing for driveâ means buying a bunch of unnecessary food with someone elseâs moneyââ
âthat was one time, lumi! get over it!â you half-chuckle at lumineâs general direction. youâre about to go on about how you had more trust in the boy youâve liked since you can remember when thereâs two knocks on the door.
youâre up in no time, legs thrown over your bed, hands almost trembling as you check the time for some reason. 10:20 pm. you donât stop to look at lumine before your legs are carrying you to the door and you throw open the door.
âxiao,â you sigh, breathless all of a sudden because he stands before you, mouth drawn perfectly into the shape of the moon tonight and a dusting of pink stretching from his cheeks to his ears.
he falls into you, a heaving mess. his hands find yours without trying to and his head is a breath away from resting on your shoulder. his breaths leave a quick trail of warmth on your collarbone and you have to straighten your spine before your knees can give away underneath you.
ây/n, iâm- iâm sorry. i was in the studio, working on some final suggestions i got and i thought i would be done by 7 but i got carried away and- and- ...â heâs trembling in your arms, almost shivering.
âyou ran all the way from the studio?â you ask quietly, internally squandering the urge to wipe away the strands of his hair that stuck to his forehead, glistening emerald.
as if only just realizing his proximity to you, xiao peels himself away â peels, because youâre not easily letting go of him just yet. he meets your eyes this time, another kind of proximity that has his cheeks flushing again. âiâm sorry i missed our date. can weâ can- um, is it too late?â
youâre processing the words heâs speaking, only slightly distracted by the hitch in his voice when lumine gives away her presence with a bemused snort. âdate? damn, y/n, i take back my words. he picks up on your arbitrary cues better than anyone else. â
âoh! lumine, iâm sorry, i didnât see you there. sorry forââ
âno, no. lumi was just leaving anyway,â you gesture with a hand on the door and a threat in your gaze as you smile at lumine, âshe has papers to write before the week ends.â
with a roll of her eyes, she mirrors your mirthless smile and slides away from the room, patting xiao on the back as she swings around her heavy tote bag. âhave fun, not too much fun, y/n baby.â just as she turns around to leave, she stops, pressing a firm finger to xiaoâs bicep that startles you more than him. âand donât ever be late again, lover boy, or weâre about to have problems.â
âlumi!â you groan but sheâs walking away with a smile and you can just turn to xiao with an apologetic smile. âsorry about her. come in!â
xiao, ever the patient being, seems shocked that youâre inviting him in. âuh, um, is this...? am i..?â
âitâs not too late,â you reply, pulling xiao into the room by his elbow, pointing at the golden-orange setting of your room, thanks to some not-so-legal changes to your lights, âplus, the ambience is so much more romantic when itâs completely dark outside, donât you think?â
exactly as you wanted, xiao chokes on his words, eyes racing away from you. you laugh, ânow, come on, you were the one who called it a date, if iâm not mistaken.â
youâre clearly having too much fun that even xiao catches on to the teasing glint in your eye, lips forming into a pout all too naturally. âdidnât mean it like that,â he mumbles.
this is the back-and-forth dynamic that youâve come to love around xiao. heâs exactly the kind of guy who reveals they consider it a date and then proceed to get adorably shy about it. heâs the kind of guy whoâs fingertips will not chase yours in a bowl of popcorn youâre sharing it with him, but when your fingers meet his, he does not pull away all the same â at least not instantly. heâs the kind of guy who will not hide the way heâs closely watching you as you try to find which movie to watch next and when you catch him, heâs just a stuttering mess.
and xiao is the kind of guy who suggests you both just lay down in silence for a moment before you queue the third movie of the night, and when you press the side of your hand to his face in a daze, he falls still.
you can sense heâs waiting for you, to say something or to do something and you almost wish he would not wait all the time. but that all goes away when you whisper his name. the daze envelopes you deeper when the blades of your blinds stir with the wind and paint his features in the moonlight and xiao shifts in your slight hold on him, lips coming to rest against your knuckles.
now, youâre the one whoâs fallen still with a gasp. a pretty gasp, xiao thinks but does not say, but if you tried, you could see it in the way his eyes trace your figure in the dark, outlined by the moonlight.
and in your waiting for xiao to say something, youâre caught unprotected when you feel his lips move against your skin. a movement so soft that it could go ignored but the feeling so intent that it makes you a little dizzy: a kiss.
â
if there was ever any doubt: youâre not dating xiao. not yet, youâd like to add, but honestly even that feels like too much of an overestimation of whatever it was that xiao felt for you. if it was anything to be thought of, in the first place. and yes, perhaps you are sulking, moping around about the fact that you and xiao are not dating. but youâd like to blame it on that another week has passed, another week in the books on how much of an idiot you are for xiao.
itâs not your fault for loving xiao so passionately though, you believe. even right now, sitting among your friends huddling around the fierce bonfire, you donât think anything could compare to the way his eyes reflect the bright flames as they rise in different shades of orange and green.
thereâs a lot of feelings that make you feel like youâre in the sweet love song that plays on in the background in that moment. the sand under your thighs as you stretch your legs and the way it gives way as you walk to where xiao sat. the brush of lumineâs hand against your calves when you pass her, the silent touch so saturated with encouragement and understanding. the crackle of the fire in its accentuating of your friendsâ laughter because childe is a ridiculous dancer.
but most of all, the feeling of xiaoâs smile spreading across his face until it was a smile on your own face and the delicate flick of his wrist as he sweeps away a few stray twigs that litter the sand beside him for you to sit - the feeling of sitting right next to xiao, close enough that the fabric of his shirt could be felt on your skin... the feeling of loving xiao is what makes you fall in love with him even more.
âhi, y/n,â he smiles and you almost giggle at the right-ness of your name in his mouth.
âxiao,â you breathe, and you thought it strange how often you said his name. a side-effect of love, you suppose. one-sided love, even more so. your heart squeezes at the thought but you stop the wavering in your smile just in time.
âi saw you in the volleyball match earlier,â his toes dance happily in the sand and you stretch your own feet at the sight, âyou were amazing. i didnât know you played.â
you shrug, arms coming to wrap around your legs, âheh, thanks. itâs âcause i coudnât any other sport back in high school,â you scrunch up your nose at the memories that flood your mind, âall of âem so full of stinky high-school dudes.â
xiao chuckles, âiâm surprised volleyball wasnât full of stinking dudes, too,â he imitates your nose-scrunch from earlier, âmy high-school volleyball scene was a lot like that. had to bribe my way into the girlsâ tennis club.â
you let out an undignified chortle, âwhy the hell did you bribe someone to get into the tennis club?â
âthey wanted me to give them some sort of advice about boys, but i wasnât very helpful,â he mutters, finger drawing restless circles into the space between the two of you.
âcâmon, donât be humble,â you nudge his side, elbows touching, halting his fiddling, âi can bet you were the reason why most of the popular couples were together in the first place.â
xiao clears his throat as if to fight off his blush, âah, i wouldnât put it like that... but i suppose i did play cupid in some successful relationships.â he stops to look at the addition youâve made to the circle heâs made in the sand. two dots that were arguably too large to be eyes and a wonky smile.
he breathes a delicate giggle, pleased as he admires the creation, âthatâs too cute.â
âyouâre too cute.â
although the words are your thoughts verbatim, itâs not you who says them. no, itâs a figure rising on the other side of xiao â ganyu.
a very inebriated ganyu, of course, because she flails on her knees before grabbing xiaoâs shoulder for support. sheâs drunk, you tell yourself. sheâs not really thinking right, you understand. but youâre sure that the way she sighs happily in xiaoâs presence is painfully familiar to your own experiences. ganyu loves him, and thatâs real, whether or not sheâs drunk. and at the same time, you donât miss the reddening of the tips of xiaoâs ears as he steadies ganyu, softly asking her to sit down.
youâre used to this by now. xiaoâs niceties, his constant casual intimacy with people that werenât you. but itâs been too long that youâve watched silently as he pushes back another girlâs hair to check if she was breathing fine, and you remember realizing you werenât content with being another girl to him, or to anyone one, for that matter.
so you touch his elbow to draw his attention back to you, stomach unsettlingly empty as you look into his eyes as they focus on you. âxiao,â you say it like an incantation â no, more like a prayer because youâre praying he wonât break your heart anymore than he has, âdo you want to take a walk with me? the shore is really pretty at this time...â you almost donât say the next words but you see the way his eyes waver, shuffling halfway back to the babbling ganyu. you tell yourself in your head that youâre being unfair but you want to make him choose, âi also need to talk to you about something.â
itâs your trump card, honestly. itâs really not much, just a vague declaration for your need to talk to him alone, away from the crowd and the fire, a walk for just the two of you. but lumineâs words from a week ago ring true in your mind: he picks up on your arbitrary cues better than anyone else.
xiao hasnât said anything in a minute and youâre desperate enough to lock gazes with him, to give him time to understand the weight of his choice. he opens his mouth to speak, so blissfully unaware of how tightly he had your heart clenched in his hands â but then, he stops and turns to look away, to look at ganyu and all of a sudden, it doesnât matter what he answers. because youâve know what you see on his face: hesitation.
you pull away, the intensity of the moment you shared with him breaking away as you stand up, dusting off your pants clean. âitâs okay. never mind about that,â xiao frowns, a look somewhere between heartbreak and guilt on his face and you almost scoff in his face because of how fucking stupid heâs made you feel, âdonât worry about it.â
a few minutes later, you find yourself pressed into a tipsy ittoâs side, the vibrations of his chuckling traveling to you. suddenly, heâs running toward the shoreline even though youâd almost reached it. âyou were right, y/n,â itto exclaims, âit is pretty here, at night.â the words make you flinch, throat sore as you do everything you can to not look over your shoulder.
safe to say, itto had all but eavesdropped on your invitation to xiao and had convinced you to take the walk with him instead. you felt too weak to say no, too cruel to understand that what you were doing. it is not an unknown truth to you that itto had been harboring a crush on you, possibly a recent development if lumineâs words are anything to go by.
âsorry, i heard you talking to xiao earlier,â he says, back to being glued to your side, arm around your shoulderâ meant to be warm, but in the chaos of your mind right now, it just felt heavy. âheâs so... undeserving of you.â
you gasp, because you did not think itto capable of talking trash and because you could not agree less. words bubble up in your throat: iâm the one who doesnât deserve him. he hasnât done anything wrong. itâs my fault for loving him too much. but you feel defeated, like this is the end. you watch as a wave rises with a roar, passionately coming to collide with the shoreline, kissing the sand there. your chest heaves a little at the pain of everything and you nod to yourself: the end.
and then, your eyes meet ittoâs and you let yourself soak in the feeling of being loved. not by someone you love, but by someone you could love. and as you watch the way ittoâs grin widens when you step close to him, hand coming to rest against his hard chest, you think you could fall in love with itto.
âdo you think you deserve me, then?â you ask under your breath and ittoâs cheeks flush. but he doesnât stutter when he replies, âi would never let anyone think that i donât.â
itâs not the right answer and really, youâre not sure there is one, but it will do. âkiss me, itto.â
itto stops to stare at you in surprise and somewhere in his eyes, you can see your own self-pity reflected but he doesnât stop to think too much and he leans in until your noses are touching. youâre so sure this is it, this kiss with a man who loves you and who you wish to love and this kiss that can replace the spot on your knuckle from a week ago that had you up all night. youâd traced it all night but you can try to make this kiss worth more â and the end that youâre so close to is almost here.
until itto isnât holding you. heâs stumbling away from you, a hand pulling him away from you. âwhat the fuck?â screams itto, fist clenched, ready to fling at the attacker. but then, you both see who it is. âxiao?!â
youâre on your knees before you know it, overwhelmed and unable to contain it. youâre painfully aware of the cold tears rolling down your cheeks as your fists close around the grains of sand around you. you refuse to watch yourself get burnt and you were so close to becoming free. the kiss of freedom that xiao has so heartlessly snatched from you. you hear the two speaking in hushed tones and you hear ittoâs heavy footsteps departing, and you know you really are doomed to love xiao for ever.
âno!â you cry when you feel his hot hands descend on your bare shoulders. you want to push him away but you just glare at him pathetically through your tears, sobbing right in his face, âno, donât.â
ây/n, youâre freezing,â xiao says and it makes you cry even harder when you feel the fabric of his satin shirt coming to cloak your shaking body.
your tears are less stormy now and you are able to feel your words in your mouth again. you hurl them at the man who made you lose them in the first place. âcan you leave me alone, xiao?â that should do the trick, you think, because itâs both a command and a request. plus, you even said his name which only makes it clear that you really did not want to be around him
but then you look at xiao and you know it was a mistake to say his name when youâre this vulnerable.
âleave you alone? so you can throw yourself at itto again?â at first, youâre shocked at the flare of envy in xiaoâs eyes and then, he adds, âyou know he likes you, donât you?â
now youâre mad at him. this time, you push him, hard enough that he lands on his butt, across from you.
âoh, iâm aware, xiao, that he likes me,â you say with a laugh, âi like him, too.â
âno,â the word leaves his throat like a plea, âno, you donât.â
âbut what makes you so sure? of course, i like him. i wouldnât ask just anyone to take a walk with me along the shoreline at night.â
xiaoâs eyes shoot up to you, a strangled noise in his throat. âbut you asked me toââ
âand you hesitated,â you throw a handful of sand his way aimed at his face but it lands on his lap, âyou always hesitate with me, xiao.â you can tell he wants to speak and you so dearly want to hear what he has to say but the words youâve imprisoned within yourself for so long escape desperately.
âall this time, week after week, iâve made it so clear what i feel for you, xiao. and before every week ends, all iâve wanted is to see something even remotely similar in you andâ,â youâre about to go on about how you feel and all the ways in which he treats you but you see his eyes falling to his lap, the sand the you attacked him with, decorating him like they were tiny stars in a galaxy.
you sigh with a weak smile, because thatâs what you would always be: a tiny speck, for you doubted you deserved to be a star, to his galaxy. âbut i canât do this, anymore,â you continue and xiaoâs eyes meet yours halfway, âi donât want to do this. i know itâs not your fault but it really fucking hurts anyway,â you take a deep breath, âso please, could you leave me alone, xiao?â
thereâs silence. xiao sits, breathing a little uneven as his gaze doesnât leave you even when youâve averted your eyes, unmoving. you allow it like you always do with xiao. you let him have his time as if you were the one hurting him, not the other way around.
âno.â the word is said such a long while that you take a moment to register heâs refusing to leave.
âno?â your tone is incredulous because you truly have had enough and xiaoâs faces his lap again.
âi donât think i should leave.â
and because you really truly have had enough, you just fall into the sand onto your back. âfine. do whatever the fuck you want. you always do.â
you donât know what you expect when you hear the rustling of him in the sand but you definitely donât expect to have your view of the night sky blocked by his head. his face hovers above you, arms on either side of you and dully, you realize that xiao is on top of you.
despite everything, the sound of those words make blood rush to your face and you question, âwhat are you doing?â
âyou said i could do whatever i wanted to,â xiao says and youâd focus better if he didnât follow the statement by bending his elbows so that thereâs but a hairâs breadth between him and you. his hair tickles your face and your words turn to muddle at the sensation.
âi want to do this.â you feel his words before you hear them because heâs already kissing you when he says it. you gasp into his mouth and he holds it with a grunt of his own. kissing him is like a dream, kissing him is a dream.
you hate how weak you are against his lips, weak enough that heâs the one who pulls away first. a lone tear leaves your eye and xiao catches it with his thumb, kissing the edges of both your eyes. âyouâre beautiful when you cry, you know. but,â his thumb trails from your nose down to your mouth, slotting itself between your lips, âyouâre even more beautiful when youâre smiling.â
âxiao, whatââ
he silences you with a kiss and you can only observe how well he knows you. âlet me say something before you... before you go on and make yourself believe any more lies about me.â
you fall still against him and his thumb presses against your lower lip to be sure. â... lies about my feelings toward you.â xiao leans down, kissing your lips through his finger, âi love you, y/n. iâm in love with you, actually.â
you want to bite down on your lip to stifle the noise that tries to escape but you end up nipping xiaoâs thumb, making him gasp against your cheeks. you would expect him to quiet down right about now. his cheeks are hot enough that you can feel the warmth too and plus, this is xiaoâs style: short and simple.
but he continues: âand- and.. i hesitate but only with you. only for you. because iâm afraid of what it means for me to love you and i would rather hesitate a million times than lose you,â he sighs, âbut iâm stupid. i shouldnât have been hesitating. because when i saw you walking away from me, w-with that look on your face.. i donât think i can let that happen again.â
his eyes leave you, âand then i saw him wrapped around you and i knew i couldnât let you be near him, let alone kiss him. because i love you and thatâs all i know.â
you feel like youâve aged eons by the time xiao falls silent, not because heâs being tedious but because his words are making you feel a whirlwind of emotion. you breathe a laugh, a real one this time because xiao is intently staring at you, âyou sure donât know a lot, do you?â
xiao huffs at your lazy response, moving away from you but stopping his tracks when you prop yourself on your elbows to press your lips to his. âbut thereâs one more thing you need to know,,â you speak against his lips, hands running from his neck to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, âthat iâm in love with you.â
xiao releases an exquisite mewl against you, falling so that you were tangled in the sand, his chest against yours and his hands coming to embrace you from behind. you can taste sand on his lips and your tears, too, but itâs the most wonderful taste in all the world and you donât think you can stop.
heâs pulling away, before you again, but heâs more flushed than youâve ever seen him. âhm-mhgh,â xiao whimpers when you find his lips again, slightly missing them, âs-stop... y/n! need to breathe.â youâre not listening to him, not when youâre finally able to feel him so close to you like youâve wanted all your life. itâs only when he bites at your lip that you pull away with a chuckle and let him fall next to you with a thud.
you pant with the fierceness of a life you never knew you would have and you let out a laugh, wrapping yourself around xiaoâs heaving chest. he groans, âyouâre such a brute,â but his hands come to rest against your wrist anyway. you give a kiss to his chest, near his heart, âyou should stop pouting like that, if you really donât want me to kiss you to death.â
â
BONUS:
âah, shit,â xiao grunts as you both gather yourselves, âiâm wet because of you.â
you think you give yourself whiplash when you spin around to look at him. your eyes are slightly wide when you reach for him but your hands are quick to travel dangerously low. âyouâre wet, you say?â xiao gasps when he hears his words.
âw-wait, noâ i meant-â
your hand is at his waistband as you whisper, âbecause of me?â
you greatly enjoy the little sound he tries to hide at that before pushing you slightly, âoh, fuck off, i meant the oceanâ i sat in the water because of you!â when your smirk doesnât clear up in understanding that nobody expected it to, he groans, trying to walk away but you link your arm through his. âyouâre so cute when you swear at me, baby.â
âohmigod, what have i doneâ h-hey, stop!â he yelps as he dodges your lips, âour friends are right there! please, no, i canâtââ
Hey anyway, it's perfectly fine if you don't want to be touched and hate being touched and hate touching others. That's perfectly fine. Touch isn't something you need for intimacy.
Don't like holding hands? Don't like hugs? Don't like people touching your body, your hair, your face? Don't like kissing? Don't like cuddling? Don't even like "insignificant" touching, like your knees touching or people tapping you to get your attention? Don't like touching people you're close too either?
That's perfectly fine, touch can be incredibly stressful for some people for a hundred different reasons. Touch isn't needed for intimacy, sharing your favorite foods is intimacy, sharing your favorite shows is intimacy, sitting together doing entirely different things can be intimacy, same with just asking how you're each doing.
You honestly look like a Greek god statue in your pics
Okay this has been in my inbox for months and I really havenât been sure how to answer it. Most would accept this as a compliment and it is a compliment. Honestly itâs not at the same time because there are so many African gods and goddesses that just get overlooked and well, Iâm not Greek. Iâm African. My gods and goddesses are just as beautiful and equally divine in their own right. To name a few..
It makes me happy that people are seeing this. Especially during black history month. I donât know if you know this but our history goes back farther than 400 years. Our history and stories are not defined by slavery alone!
Hi, are there any tips you can give on affection in romantic relationships without it being sexual, sex, I can do, natural lead up to sex, I can do. Fluff, uhh not so much, I always feel like itâs too corny or unnatural to be read enjoyably. Maybe itâs not your forte, but itâs worth asking.
Hi :)
I have a few prompt lists that fit into fluffy but romantic without sexual intent.
Romantic, non-sexual intimacy prompts
Fluff Prompts
Fluffy Dialogue Prompts
Giving the reader butterflies with your characters
info: kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader, college!au, fluff, 1.5k words, lots of references to poetry, kissing, the quotes throughout are not in order sorry, thatâs about it
authorâs notes: i love this poem so much, i reference it a lot, so iâd recommend reading it really quickly: somewhere i have never traveled,gladly beyond by e.e. cummings. happy valentineâs day everyone! sorry if kazuha comes off a little ooc.
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me
Kazuha wasâŠÂ
He wasâŠ.
You watched him from your spot across the table, eyes tracing the peek of his round nose above the edge of a poetry book, the group project you were supposed to be working on sprawled haphazardly in the space between. You watched his brow quirk when he read an intriguing line, the messy strands of wavy platinum falling in front of his face, interfering with his glasses. Some deep part in your soul wanted to brush the curls away, but the way his ruby eyes flicked up at your scrutiny, a question in his gaze halted your desires.
âYes?â Flustering, you averted your gaze to the strewn, handwritten notes on the table before you, frantically thinking of an excuse to deflect from your stare.Â
âI was⊠thinking of how to go about this. e.e. cummings has such a unique style of poetry, he is quite difficult to decipher.â Kazuha did not miss your nervous deflection, and his eyes twinkled knowingly - fondly.Â
âPerhaps we shouldâve chosen an easier poet to analyze.â His words were nothing but kind and understanding, and yet you felt riled up. It felt teasing.
âNo!â You raised your voice just slightly, immediately quelling with a swallow when Kazuha set his book down. âSorry⊠I want to analyze e.e. cummingsâ work.â Kazuha stared at you for a few moments, eyes wandering across your bashful features with a quaint smile on his lips.Â
âAll right then. Do you have a poem in mind?â He was so patient and attentive. It was nearly infuriating, the way he leaned in like you had his full attention, the gentle nod of his head whenever you spoke, inhaling your words, letting them churn in his mind, and giving them his entire thought. Kazuha was always like this, and he wasâŠÂ
when i was a teenager and i learned about how light pollution and a certain billionareâs satellites obscure the night sky and all of its glory that humans have looked up and admired for hundreds of thousands of years, i always kept the mantra âthey would steal even the skies from youâ hidden deep in my gut like a warning
but now iâm in my 20s and in the midst of a plague, having to watch corporate entities like space x and jeff bezos scramble for a piece of the infinite vastness of our universe while weâre all down expected to toil for their gains, live in an age of widespread sickness where we canât be granted healing or rest without a profit, have every single piece of our lives cut up and dressed for sale like a butchered animal, from basic human needs to human expression. and now that same mantra comes to mind, but now instead of a cautionary warning it sits in my chest and my throat bc it has gone from a warning to a certainty. they will steal even the skies from you.
summary: although you're always looking out for any mistakes he makes, you think you've found the perfect rival in kazuha. but when you begin to spend more time with him, you begin to realize he's also the perfect love interest... after all, why else would someone lend you an personally annotated book?
pairings: kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader
tags: enemiestolovers!au, modern!au
genre: fluff, humor, slight angst
a/n: i've been having something of an obsession with sylvia plath even tho we finished reading her work last november. i love it and i will not stop talking about her potrayal of women and will include it in a fic about kazuha. god, i just want to have an academic rival who will convince me to read an annotated book so that i can fall in love with them. okay, enjoy this brainrot <3 also ps: i enjoyed writing this kazuha a lot so if you have any requests i will be more than happy to cater to them :)
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âSo, class how did we like reading Sylvia Plath?â Miss Aranaki, your Literature teacher, crosses her arms across her chest as she regards the twenty or so of you sitting in front of you, âAny thoughts?â
âI didnât like it much, actually,â a voice pipes up and without seeing, you know who it is, a groan escaping your lips. Aranaki gives an amused laugh, âKazuha. Please do elaborate on why you dislike Plath so much.â
Unwillingly, your eyes travel until they come to rest on the mostly-platinum-blonde-headed boy who has his copy of The Bell Jar dismissed on its back by his elbow. âWell, to start with, her poetry is too easily interpretable once you know everything about her enough and the themes are usually just the same old feminist, complaining about privilege and children. Although I must say the touch with the cheating husband in The Rival was interesting, but that was as good as it got.â
Before Kaedehara Kazuha can continue, you, whoâs had Plathâs novel clutched tightly in your hands, interrupt him. âExcuse me, to me it sounds like youâre complaining about having to read about a complex female experience. Itâs a shame to see men like you roaming around in the campusâ feminist activism clubs when in class you cannot tolerate the slightest shred of powerful women in action.â
Kazuha meets your eyes in a flash, a familiar smile in place - one that is almost friendly, but at the last moment, turns smug. âIâm sorry if I came across as discarding Plathâs unique persona - but I just refuse to credit her writing simply because sheâs a woman. It wouldnât be fair otherwise, donât you think, Y/N?â
âPlease,â you scoff, ears a little red from exasperation, âHer poems are not easily interpreted, Kazuha, youâre just overly entrenching them in context. You canât make Plathâs poems all about her factual life if you want to take anything from them. The Rival is not definitely about her bastard husbandâs mistress - it could just as easily be about her mother if you try to keep your mind open.â
Kazuha opens his mouth to speak but Aranaki cuts him off, âAlright, alright, the two of you. Always a pleasure to hear you go back and forth. Some very valid points have been made. But remember, this class consists of 18 other students. Letâs give allow everyone to speak.â
âEither you really were not paying attention to what weâve been saying in class, or your brain is simply broken,â you stand up, following her out of the class.
âI donât know about that, Y/N. You both seemed like you were having a lot of fun-â
âI donât know about that, Y/N. You both seemed like you were having a lot of fun-â
âFun? Hu Tao, that man is borderline misogynistic and you think-â
âI think I deserve a little more credit than a borderline misogynist, my dear Y/N.â
You stop in your tracks with a sigh when you spot Kazuha behind you, bag slung lazily over his back. Heâs holding his copy of The Bell Jar by the very edge, you notice much to your dismay. âYouâre going to have to work harder if you want to seem like you actually care about reading feminist work from writers who are actual women. Not just old horny menââ
âPlease donât tell me youâre still holding that time I praised Murakami against me?â Kazuhaâs brows furrow, looking almost genuinely concerned about what you think of him. You roll your eyes, catching the ill-covered laugh that leaves Hu Tao, who has been observing the two of you silently.
âNo, but you really donât think Murakamiâs flat female characters, who by the way only function to serve the lonely loser men, are anywhere near the same kind of writing as Plathâs honest depictionââ You cut yourself off when you catch Hu Tao throwing you a suggestive look and scoff, âNever mind, I donât have time to have this conversation. Letâs just go, Hu Tao.â
âButââ You promptly block Kazuhaâs attempt to probably retort by taking Hu Taoâs arm and marching off, carrying a growing a feeling of doubt in your chest.
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âThat will be $15, please.â You nod at the cashier, internally crying at how expensive a single coffee was. You feel yourself cry even louder when you rummage through your wallet to only find a total of $10.
âUm, sorry, just a moment,â you feel yourself beginning to panic, ready to just about be hit by lightning, âI couldvâe sworn I saw anotherââ
âHere, Iâm paying for them.â You jump up at the voice beside you and you swear to God if this morning could get any worse, itâd have to be because Kazuha stepped in to save you from some kind of financial crisis that wouldâve inevitably lead into a public mental breakdown.
âW-What? No, I can pay for myselfâ âThank you for buying from us. We hope to see you again.â
Youâd rather not the hold up the rest of the line any longer so you step away, pulling Kazuha with you, with a scowl on your face. You shove the $10 youâd been holding into his palm which he looks at in confusion, âIâll pay you back the rest of it later, Iââ
âNo, you really donât need to do that, Y/N,â the boy smiles, a soft comforting look in his eyes that youâve never encountered before. It annoys you.
âHonestly, would you stop cutting me off all the time?â Kazuha shuts up with a serious raise of the brown, âI was very much capable of paying for myself back there but thanks. Bye.â
You intend to distance yourself from him as much just because youâre equally embarrassed and confused by his presence, especially at having been caught in a moment of somewhat vulnerability by him of all people. You take a seat in the cafe by the window, hoping to ease your worries with a productive rush.
Of course, the universe, and specifically, one crimson-streaked head, has other plans. âWhat the fuck are you doing?â you question as Kazuha settles into the seat across from you, resting his bag beside him, hands coming to drum against the table - the table that youâd taken to get away from specifically him.
âIâm doing what youâre doing. Studying,â he says, pulling out his laptop, nonchalant as if the two of you arenât after each otherâs throats in class all the time. Youâre actually speechless as he actually starts typing away, eyes on the screen. You let out a frustrated sigh at his behavior, unable to just ignore his presence, a weakness of yours you absolutely despise.
âKazuha, I think youâve asserted your compassion enough for a day. You donât have to continue acting like you donât actually hate me,â your voice threatens to falter when Kazuha looks up with wide eyes.
âWhat do youâ But I donât hate you,â Kazuha replies, not losing a second of time after youâve spoken. You shake your head at him, a headache imminent, as you stand up. âWait- where are you going?â
âSomewhere else. See you in class, Kazuha. Leave me alone or Iâll report you.â
đ
You suppose you feel kind of bad about the recent encounters youâve had with Kazuha. You only met him in class, first in a course called The Graphic Novel where you had your first argument with him (you wanted to focus on the postmodern themes of V for Vendetta, while Kazuha was overly obsessed with the art and a specific sequence of events). From there, it just seemed like the two of you couldnât get away from each other - next it was a creative course about nonfiction where you found yourself competing with him to see who could impress the famously cold teacher.
Before youâd known, youâd settled into a sort of rhythm with Kazuha where youâd each challenge and infuriate each other, always ready to pounce. It was surprisingly an interesting part of your education - maybe even the most interesting, since you hardly were able to spend a lot of time doing anything other than work on essays and study for the next thing. But recently, you were feeling more... bitter? around him. It was unsettling, especially when suddenly it seemed like Kazuha was capable of more emotions outside of disdain for you. You werenât stupid enough to not realize you were having fun but when Hu Tao had so explicitly pointed it out... it almost felt wrong. Like youâd been lying to yourself somehow.
You groan as you zone back into reality, coming to terms with the fact that you had made no progress with the last assignment of the Plath course. It has been a few weeks since the course ended but Aranaki had sent out a final feedback-slash-evaluative essay question asking you to talk about a favorite text from Plath. It is optional, you recall, but you physically cannot forgo the opportunity to do extra work. You hit your head in thought, wondering what you are to do with yourself.
âHaving trouble picking a favorite?â
You are not proud of the squeak that leaves you in surprise as you jump around in your seat. âKazuha! You fuckingâ Stop sneaking up on people in the library! I swear thatâs so insensitive.â
Kazuha, clad in a red sweatshirt that matches the red streak in his hair, sits down besides you with an amused laugh. Youâre met with a sweet almond scent as he shifts closer to peek at your screen. âSorry,â he whispers, âYouâre writing about Ariel? Iâm surprised.â
âWhy? Donât want me writing about the same thing as you?â You gesture toward his bag, which reveals the corner of a sheet with the essay question, âIâm sure you wrote a whole pretentious thing about how shallow and trite Plathâs poetry is.â The boy pins you with an unreadable look as he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you.
What is he so serious about?
âYou donât actually think Iâm a woman-hater, do you?â You are tempted to retaliate with a compilation of all the times he was even remotely dismissive of a female author, but you cannot bring yourself to the longer you look at Kazuha. His eyes are downcast and donât meet yours when you give a preliminary laugh of ridicule, which greatly worries you. Though you find it hard to believe, Kazuha seems genuinely hurt at the idea of you perceiving him as someone against women.
âOh, well, not really. But you did seem slightly on the wrong side when you dismissed Plathâs experiences like that. And then, making her seem like she was entirely about her hatred for her husband wasnât a very good look, either.â You try to stay in character without actually hurting Kazuhaâs feelings but he seems crestfallen either way. You begin to feel bad for some reason when he pulls out a few sheets of paper from his bag, before handing you one.
âAnd what is this?â You raise your brow questioningly and all Kazuha replies with is, âRead this.â You look down at the sheet and find that it is a print-out of Plathâs poem, The Munich Mannequins. Your course on Plath didnât include this particular poem because there wasnât much time but regardless, youâve read the poem enough times to not have to go through it again. What catches your attention is the little scribbles in green around the printed text.
Itâs Kazuhaâs annotations of the poem, you realize, and already find yourself somewhat moved. You know for a fact that Kazuha does not annotate something he doesnât find truly meaningful. âHmm,â you look back at Kazuha with a smile that is completely unlike you. But you can hardly help it, âYour analysis of the metaphor of the mannequins is... insightful, although I donât agree with it.â
Kazuhaâs dullness suddenly melts away when you speak, a bright grin in its place. âIâm glad you think so. I realized I was spending so much effort in trying to find out what Plath actually wanted to convey that in the end, I didnât even have my own interpretations. And looking back at it, her work is actually pretty cool.â
This time you laugh, teasingly nudging Kazuhaâs shoulder, âWay to go with the academic language, Kazuha.â Your laughter only grows louder when the boyâs cheeks color slightly pink. âBut Iâm really happy that you were able to appreciate Plath. I think maybe we found something we agree on.â
He nods, his usual easy smile returning, âI have to admit that I only gave Plath another chance because I couldnât stand the thought of you thinking I was a borderline misogynist.â You feel yourself flush and you cough to cover it up, âStill canât believe you were so bothered by that comment.â
âOf course, I was,â Kazuha says matter-of-factly, âYou said it so seriously. And then that day in the cafe, you seemed to truly hate me. You even accused me of hating you. I felt like Iâd done something unforgivable.â
You grimace in guilt. âSorry about that,â you pat his back hesitantly, âI was just a bit in my head back then. I donât actually hate you. Or think that you hate me.â
âThatâs good. I wouldnât want to have you stop talking to me, I think some life-giving part of me would die.â
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Hereâs the thing: you know how youâve hardly been able to do anything outside of worry about your grades and keep track of your deadlines? Yes, that meant you hadnât even enough time to have crushes, or even think about who youâre attracted. Which is why youâre caught in some real fucking trouble when you realize you like Kazuha.
Since your conversation with him in the library, something had changed between the two of you. You still made sure to battle each other fiercely in class, no doubt, but when you werenât in class, you were actually able to hold a civil conversation. In fact, sometimes your conversations outside of class were more enjoyable than your arguments and disagreements, given that those same dissents would often turn into inside jokes outside of class.
It started with Kazuha asking you to peer-review an essay for another class (he wouldnât dare to ask your help with a common assignment, that meant war) and you getting impressed again by his ability to analyze and argue. Slowly, it became a ritual for you to meet Kazuha after classes to work on something together, which took more time than required because youâd be bothering each other the whole time, chattering away loud enough that the librarian had banned your entrance in the library. So now you met him on the college lawn where your time together almost felt romantic.
âGod, I hate myself,â you mumble into your hands as you cringe at your internal monologue. Hu Tao whoâs keeping you company while you wait for Kazuha, laughs knowingly, âStop hating on yourself for having feelings, Y/N. Believe it or not, itâs normal.â
âI know, but not for me! Iâve had like one romantic experience before and it involved hand-holding.â
âHey, hand-holding can be pretty intimate, too,â she retorts, frowning, âIâm sure if you tried it with Kazuha, youâd actually combust on the spot.â
âKeep it down, Hu Tao, this is not exactly something Iâm proud ofââ
âWhat are you not proud of?â You freeze as Kazuha comes into sight from behind you but relax when you examine his expression and see nothing out of the ordinary.
âNothing, just her usual spiel about hating life,â Hu Tao covers for you as she rises from next to you, smirking as she pushes Kazuha in her spot. He falls all too close to you, head hitting your shoulder.
âCareful!â You scowl at Hu Tao as you steady Kazuha with a hand on his back. She winks at you as she turns to leave, âSee ya for dinner tomorrow, stupid.â
Kazuha chuckles beside you and you can feel the sound vibrate through your hand, still warm against his back, âYou must be really close to her if she can walk away alive after calling you stupid.â
You cough a little as you are suddenly reminded of the proximity, thanks to how Kazuha has made no move to remove his head from against your shoulder, even though youâd retracted your hand from his back long ago. âIâm not that easily offended, you know.â
Kazuha looks amused as he shifts to look at you, much to your chagrin because fuck! youâre still way too close to him so now youâre basically sharing the same air. âSo if I called you stupidâ?â
âDonât even dream of it,â you push his head off and he pulls away, laughing lowly. You sigh in relief now that youâre at a distance that wonât kill you as Kazuha pulls out a red book from inside his jacket pocket.
âWhat book is that?â
Kazuha holds it for you with a hesitant smile, âItâs for you, actually.â You hum questioningly as you take it and scoff when you see the title. Sputnik Sweetheart. By Haruki Murakami.
âBefore you chase me away for bringing Murakami in your sights, listen to me, okay?â he says, with a hand on your elbow and you fall silent, a little nervous. âI think you should read it because this book actually has complex female characters, unlike all his other work. Thereâs a lesbian relationship in there and a very unexpected plot twist, too. You might like it... I think.â
The amount of effort it takes to not scream on the top of your lungs because Kazuhaâs cheeks are dusted adorably red as he rants to you about the book, his eyes not meeting you and you canât take it because heâs so shy about it all. You silently open to a random page and you swear you die right there when you see notes in pencil along the margin.
âYouâve annotated this?â you ask through a small smile. Kazuha rubs the back of his neck, âWell, yes. I usually annotate my novels. I hope you donât mind. Think of it as having a really long conversation with me?â
You chuckle as hit Kazuhaâs forehead with the book lightly, âWhy the fuck would I want to have a conversation with you about a book? Iâm bound to give myself a migraine.â You bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning as you continue, âBut oh, well. Since you went back to Plath for me, I think Iâll give Murakami a chance.â
Kazuha pumps a fist in the air, beyond delighted, âYes! I promise youâre going to love me after this.â
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âKazuha, I have to something to tell you,â you say, hands clutched behind your back. Kazuha turns away from the conversation heâd just been having with Aether to give you a warm look.
âWhat is it?â He waves goodbye to Aether, grinning when you reveal the red book heâd lent you a few weeks ago. Kazuha jumps up and down as his hands cup to hold yours and you canât help but jump excitedly with him. âDid you finish? What did you think of it? How was his description of Miu and Sumiere? Oh, what was your reaction to Miuâs backstory?â
You laugh as you pause to form your response. âWell, I actually did not hate it. I actually enjoyed his descriptions of the womenââ Kazuha squeals in excitement as you continue, âBut! There was man still, you know. And his presence as the narrator of everything was a bit suffocating. So, not perfect. But dammit, the parts about Miu watching herself that night in the park and everything Sumiere writes in her letters - Ahhh, that was just amazingly disorienting.â
âSo?â Kazuha grins at you, shaking you by the shoulders, âYou donât hate Murakami anymore? I succeed in convincing you that he wrote one decent novel? You love me?â
You successfully ignore the last question he asks as you reply, âI guess I donât hate him but I canât say heâs a good writer still. Heâs definitely got some dimension but he needs to stop putting men at the center of his universes.â
Kazuha nods as he takes back the book from you, âThatâs fair enough, I suppose. I didnât expect toââ he pauses, a new kind of smile blossoming on his face as he fans through the pages, âOh, whatâs this? Did you make notes on the book?â
Shit, youâd nearly forgotten about that. âOh, right. I thought it would be funny to respond to some of your annotations. You like some really strange paragraphs, you know.â You quickly take away the book from him before he can grin at anymore of your notes, âI made them on sticky notes so that I can remove them. I just forgot.â You begin removing the loosely glued pieces of paper when Kazuha snatches away the novel back, holding it away from your grasp.
âNo! Donât do that. I want to read them. I canât lose this opportunity to actually get to read your annotations,â he says, a full-fledged blush on his cheeks for some reason.
You laugh awkwardly, âF-fine, weirdo. Just remove them after you read them.â
âWhy would I do that?â Kazuha hugs the book protectively with an annoyingly smug smile on his face, âIâm cherishing this for the rest of eternity.â
You turn around at that, clutching at your chest as if in pain, heart racing, âW-Whatever. Iâm going to study. Come if you want.â
An hour later, you fall back into the grass with a whine because you really cannot get your mind off of Kazuha, which was not exactly aided by the fact that the boy was right next to you, opting to bump knees with you as he managed to concentrate with no issues.
âY/N? Whatâs wrong?â You open your eyes to find Kazuha leaning over you, arm placed next to your head. You watch as his forehead is curtained by his hair and you pout as you silently flick at a chunk of his hair. âI donât know why you even bother to tie your hair if itâs all over the place anyway.â
Kazuha shrugs with a playful smile and is about to reply before he cuts himself off, âOh, thereâs something in hair, I think.â You reach for your hair but Kazuha beats you to it, leaning closer to your face as he gently plucks off the said something off your hair, holding it up so you can see. âIt was a leaf. Heh.â
You reach for your hair self-consciously and are surprised when you find Kazuhaâs fingers through the strands. You pull away just as quick you touched him but his hand chases after you, coming to capture it in his, his fingers resting through yours.
âMhmm,â Kazuha hums delicately, face hovering dangerously close to yours, âIâve been wanting to do that for a while.â
You make an embarrassing choking sound before you place a hand against his chest, pushing with little effort. You avert your gaze as you speak, âS-Stop doing that.â
You canât see it but Kazuhaâs smile weakens as he asks, âStop doing what?â
âStuff like this. Like what you did back there with my annotations and- and- right now, this hand-holding stuff. Itâs not funny, you know.â
âI donât think itâs funny either, Y/N,â he says, âIâm always serious about you. So would you please look at me?â Your hand twitches in Kazuhaâs as you glance at him and instantly turn away when you see him gazing at you. He does look serious, intense in fact as he looks at you.
His fingers tighten around yours when you suddenly feel a cold pressure against your ear. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you realize itâs Kazuhaâs nose pressed up against your neck. âK-Kazuha, cut it outââ
âI like you, Y/N,â he whispers softly, âActually, thatâs an understatement. I really, really like you. Iâve never been so excited to have arguments with someone and Iâve never cared so much about what someone else thought about a book. Youâre the smartest person Iâve met.â
You canât believe your ears, though they turn red anyway as Kazuha pulls away to look at you. âI think youâre so beautiful. I can hardly think right when Iâm around you.â
You feel breathless when Kazuha looks at you like that, with an intimacy of a lover and fumble to reply, âI- I like you, too, Kazuha. Youâre cool, I guess. And ridiculously handsome.â You mumble the last part but he seems to hear it, probably because youâre so close.
âWould you go out with me?â His eyes are swimming with adoration when you finally meet them. When you nod, a gasp falls from your lips at the feeling of Kazuhaâs lips against your cheek. âKiss me already, would you?â This time, you feel his laughter through your own bones, strong and loving.
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Bonus:
âI really wish you would go easy on me in class, dove,â Kazuha complains against your lips and you pull away to laugh at the slight pout in his features. You run a hand through his open hair, arranging the red strands together, âNo way, babe. Sorry but sometimes, youâre just wrong.â
He deflates against your neck and you pull him inside the blankets with you with a chortle, âBut if you want, we can read Mrs Dalloway together for class?â He instantly perks up, arms coming to hugging you tight, âI would love that. I want to hear your reading voice. We can even play the parts to make it more realistic.â
You groan, âNo, weâre not doing that, Kazu. Please donât make me regret this.â Regret it you do later that week, when Kazuha proudly declares to the whole class, including Miss Aranaki, that the two of you had read the assigned reading together.
serendipitous surprises â modern + roommate au! kazuha x reader x xiao â
a little gift for @gnyuvile for the secret santa event of @ohmykazuha & @almondoufu ! i hope you like this hehe <3
â FT. ; kaedehara kazuha x gender neutral!reader x xiao
â NOTES ; FLUFF. childhood friends to lovers + enemies to lovers. a miniature collection of small yet sweet christmas-related scenarios !! petname 'love' used! WC, â 2.5k.
â i. NEATH THE CHRISTMAS TREE !!
the colors of christmas are more evident than ever before, in this latter part of the yearâand, you find yourself 'lucky' to be spending the jolly holidays with two of your closest companions, kazuha and xiao! oh what joy the holidays will be!
though, in all honesty, yesâ'tis truly the season to be jolly, though mayhaps a bit heart-wracking (albeit, evermore lovely) for you, being roommates with both young men aforementioned. although it does seem like you've been 'roomies' with one of the two for much much longer, being childhood friends. sure, xiao may not be the most talkative, affectionate, or lively person, but you've known him for long enough that such characteristics seem like mere trivialitiesâtaciturn as he is, he still remains by your side even after all these years, no? and he promises to stay for much longer, too.
'tis very much something you are grateful for, even if a part of you wishes you were, well, not just friends, but perhaps lovers? haha?... mayhaps? nevertheless, you hope to enjoy this merry christmas as you have as a child with him, though this time, you wouldn't be little kids anymore. of course.
and thus you find yourself in your current situationâsetting up the christmas tree in your apartment with xiao helping you.
"...do i really have to be doing this?"
you send a sly smirk in xiao's direction, though he merely turns away after catching your gaze for just a second.
"i don't see why not! 'tis the season to be jolly, isn't it?" "so long as you don't go out bursting 'falalalalalalala', or whatever, then sure." "oh? but i'm pretty sure i just heard you going 'falalalalalalala'?" "you get what i mean, right...!" "sure, sure."
humming lightly under your breath small songs for the holiday season, you fail to catch xiao's eyes focused on you as you contemplate between which of the two different colored ornaments would be more fitting for the tree. you fail to catch the way he sighs, and shakes his head only to smile slightly and turn his attention to something else.
"xiao, what do you think?"
yet, he only stays silent. "xiao...?" "hm?" "is... no, nevermind."
a part of you wonders if you had gone a bit too far in your teasing this time, as you sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eyes and watch him seemingly looking at nothing. you've known each other for ages, yet as much as you know xiao, it's still difficult for you to understand what he truly is thinking. before you could open your mouth to speak, however, xiao cuts you to it.
"i think that one over there would be better."
you turn your head quickly to where he was facing, your mouth making a little 'oh'. ah, right. a grin slides onto your face, and you chuckle at yourself for not realizingâ"would that be the ornament we once made together as kids?"
"yeah." you lightly laugh as xiao looks to the side seemingly embarrassed. "i can't believe you still have it!" "w-well..." "no need to say it, i understand." though he scrunches his nose and pretends to sigh, the tips of his lips curling up are evident to you.
"it's been a while since then, hasn't it?" you murmured, still amused at the sight of the old ornament that doesn't seem to have aged much even with the many years since its creation. "some things never change huh, xiao?"
he merely nods in kind, eyes examining you quietly. a small scoff comes from him, and you turn to him with an eyebrow raised. "if only you knew the meaning behind your words..." he whispers under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear "oh? what do you mean?" "n-nothing! never mind that, you heard nothing."
if he says that though, then sure. it's in moments like these he thanks the heavens for the fact how you somehow manage to be oblivious to such facts, especially with his affections for you. he wonders how long it'll be until you realizeâ!
though, that thought could stay put until another day, perhaps. for now, he's content with helping you out with the finishing touches of the christmas tree.
"i-in any case, i think i've spent enough time here." "mhm, if you think so then sure! thanks for the help, xiao." "it's nothing. don't hesitate to call out my name if ever you need anything." "always."
he stands before you for a few moments, your eyes focused on his own irises, watching their gaze flicker around you until they settle on your own.
"we're... not kids anymore. but, i hope you'll allow me to do this anyway."
his voice is quiet, and all you can really do in the moment is shuffle your feet lightly, as you stand entranced by him.
all of a sudden, you feel something placed on your headâa santa hat?âand in the moment after, as you look up and blink at xiao, you see a similar hat adorning his head.
"...merry christmas." "merry christmas, xiao."
you let out a small chuckle, as you reach out to touch your hat and find a button that makes it sparkleâonly to watch in glee as xiao does the same with his own, the red hat lighting up like the night sky but if it were... red. and santa's hat. (quite a funny sight you admit: a small grumpy cat, wearing a sparkly santa hat! and that even rhymes!)
the tree next to you both almost stands forgotten, and you unfortunately find yourself forced to tear your gaze from his own intense one upon another calling your nameâyour other roommate, it would seem. and so you send the man a final smile, bidding him "see you later" until you come across him once more later into the day.
â ii. FROSTY THE SNOWMAN(S) ??
on the other hand, oh so sweet kaedehara kazuha! he actually happens to be an acquaintance of yours, in your workplace, school, university, or wherever you reside aside from the shared apartment! 'tis, well, rather unfortunate indeed that you cannot seem to escape the presence of this man.
he seems to be well aware of this fact, much to your annoyance. neighbors live in blissful ignorance of your true relationship, as though you seem ever so friendly in the outside world, behind closed doors your relationship is less... amiable. for sure.
has he done anything to earn your ire? no, not really to be honest! perhaps "enemies" is too strong of a word to describe your relationship... tense as it is, yet not necessarily hateful. after all, you live with this manâno way you would have survived this long in the same household as kazuha if you actually hated him.
however, the fact remains that he still is infuriating to a fault, his sweet words undeniably catching your heart and his unfairly good looks catching your eyes as alwaysâfacts you never want to admit to his pretty face, lest he tease you. all in good jest, of course, yet the fact still stands that you would rather spend your christmas with someone who doesn't make you scowl, a.k.a. someone not kazuha.
"you called...?" "yup, i did! merry christmas, love."
for a moment, you merely blink at him. and then sigh. and then, give him a smile as you bid himâ"merry christmas, kazuha."
"oh?" "oh what? it's not as if i hate you, you know..."
he grins at you and nods his head, eyes sparkling in understanding, "i know, i know! yet still, it's nice whenever you're not mean to me." "well, i'd be a lot nicer more often if you didn't tease me so much." "well, i do it for a reason, if you didn't know." "well then, what would that reason be?" "a secret!"
right. a secret. of course. it doesn't escape your notice how quick kazuha is to change the conversation, howeverâand the way his eyes look into yours and seem to see something more than what you probably think he sees. not that you would know what that is, though.
"oh, did xiao give you that hat?" "yup! i don't suppose you have something for me too?"
words merely said in jest, yet you end up pleasantly surprised to hear thatâ"why yes, actually! but you'll get it later." "...oh! thank you, kazuâ" "though before you can thank me, head out for a bit with me."
blink. another blink. what? "you heard right." "ok. but why?" "it's snowing. you know what that means?"
one second. two. and then another, marking a third.
"...would that mean a snowball fight, so i can throw one at your pretty face?" "well, i'm genuinely flattered you find my face pretty, but wrong guess! let's make snowmen?"
you grit your teeth lightly in embarrassment, which does not go unnoticed by kazuha. "fine. sure. whatever, i guess." "we could make a small contest, whoever makes a better snowman by xiao's standards wins and gets a prize!"
'curious', is what you think. curious, becauseâ"you do realize that would mean i would win, if we even manage to get xiao into this?" "because you two are childhood friends and his favoritism is unbelievably evident? exactly!"
his words leave you wondering whatever he actually means with his words, yet as you set off making your snowmen outdoors, you can only fake cough lightly and hope for the best that kazuha doesn't realize what his words make you feel. yeah. just stay hopeful, you got this.
a while after, upon finishing making your beautiful and exquisitely lovely snowman, you head over to kazuha and sit quietly on a seat nearby, watching him in silence.
"finished?" "yup." "me too, then!"
he sends you a smile, one which you return. you rise from your seat, moving to examine closely the snowman standing next to him. 'cute', though you would never admit that to his own cute face. and so you settle with petting the snowman with your gloves, to which kazuha lightly laughs at before his eyes widen in remembrance.
"ah, right!" 'so very uncharacteristic of kazuha', is what you think, with how his eyes suddenly dart around and he clears his throat as he stands in front of you. "i had something for you, right?"
your eyes sparkle in anticipation, and you cannot deny the warm feeling in your chest, "you were serious?" "yeah. something i made specifically for you. it's nothing much, just something smallâyou deserve it after all."
and so you find yourself in this situation, kazuhaâyour so-called 'enemy' by both his and your wordsâhanding you over a christmas-themed decorated notebook.
"check it later." you find yourself drawn to his smile. small, full of unspoken words, softâthough you quickly cough and cover your mouth, looking to the side in embarrassment, "thank you, kazuha." "it's nothing."
it truly was nothing, you think, with how he then grins mischievously and grabs your arms after removing his gloves surprising you with it's unbelievable cold holy heck, and all you can do is quickly move out of his reach, punching his snowman's head to the ground as you try to avoid his hand's reach.
"why youâyou destroyed kazu junior!" "who names their snowman after themselves, kazuha?!" "well me, if you just heard what i said! at least my snowman doesn't look like someone just threw snowballs together and said 'hey, this is a snowman'!" "oh why you...!"
'tis truly the season to be jolly, oh yes. for happiness definitely lies in destroying the snowman of your 'enemy' and desperately getting back at him for roasting your own dearest 'frosty the snowman'. all of this happening of course after kazuha gifted you a notebook full of sweet haikus, to which you are evermore unaware of the fact such lovely works were inspired by you. oh, it definitely is the most wonderful time of the year!
â iii. GINGERBREAD COOKIES GALORE !?
silence. the ticking of the clock keeps, well, ticking in the latter part of christmas day. such as time never stops, the two men wait and wait for your arrival.
an arrival that has already been probably a few hours late, even as your two roommates stand patiently in the kitchen, small gingerbread men already laid before them. the only question that remains isâwhere are you?
"...how long have we been waiting?" "hmm, who knows..."
"well, if you-know-who doesn't arrive, perhaps we can eat them for ourselves." kazuha oh so mused, as xiao murmured in retaliation, "...maybe, but then again, these were made for..."
'tis truly a sight to behold, you wonder, as you stop in your tracks and behold the tray full of⊠gingerbread cookies. in various⊠shapes? were they shapes? yes, likely?
"don't say it." "but xiaoâ" "just don't." "fine, then. ahem! i'm guessing these are⊠gingerbread cookies?"
only silence follows, for the next few moments, until xiao reluctantly speaks up.
"yes." "look, i'mâ" "we," "âwe are truly very sorryâŠ! we didn't, uhm, expect them to look like this. i mean, if it helps, that one over there is youâ"
in all honesty, the two men were not at all surprised to hear your laugh, though are extremely thankful it isn't for the reason they think of. "wait wait, so that one, over there, is me! but itâtheyâwhat, how did you two manage to make one cookie so adorable?!"
kazuha chuckles, lightly elbowing xiao as he looks to the side in embarrassment. "little you is even holding hands with two others, you see! that one there is made by me, little kazuhaâ" "i helped him decorate it, though. kazuha sucks in detailing the cookies properly."
xiao shares a look with you, and as he watches you smile, the corners of his lips curl up as well, mirroring your own albeit much smaller. you both ignore kazuha's exaggerated 'clutching his chest in pain' act, of course.
"well, in any case...!" both men turn to you, expressions different yet similar in different ways. kazuha sports a wide grin while a small smile resides on xiao's faceâ"thank you so much, you two."
"well, after all, i think we would both agree one of the best gift we could receive from you for christmas would be your beautiful smile." "...don't bring me into this." "he doesn't deny it, though. trust me."
life with these two is an amusement park for sure, in all honestyâyet as you stand in front of xiao and kazuha with a tray of gingerbread cookies as well, you can only smile. it doesn't matter in this moment that you've known xiao far longer than kazuha, or the fact one is your childhood friend and the other your so-called enemy, you can only seem to smile in this moment.
"merry christmas, xiao. merry christmas, kazuha."
the two men, despite their many differences, once more offer you a smile as they repeat the words at the same time, coincidentallyâfor though they may be so different in names and personalities, the fact remains their feelings for you are the same.
. . . taglist ; answer this form or send in an ask to be added! @tofuthoma @noxtivagus @kdaehara merry christmas to everyone too btw, even if it's alrdy almost 10pm where i am aha !! <3
ââ SUMMARY: jupiter didnât budge from his flux even when his blind optimism caused the sharp aches on your chest or; in which you find out that they dated you not out of love but out of the necessity to run away from their persistent admirers.
ââ CONTAINS: fake dating!au, modern!au, highschool!au (albedo), mentions of traditional âideal spouseâ characteristics as a plot point (diluc), college!au (xiao), the boys and y/n being prime examples of the people you shouldnât be in a relationship, toxic relationships, hurt/no comfort, vulgar language (childe), dubious mental states, questionable scientific and philosophical themes + others
ă ALBEDO â â princeps cretaceus | chalk prince â
before him, you never really cared much about the nature of the world nor did you enjoy the distasteful burn of ammonia in your nasal cavity. it wasnât as if you hated science because there was a time when you enjoyed making elephant toothpaste and lighting empty tea bags on fire. itâs nothing special to those who were really passionate about the subject but it was everything to the eight-year-old you who looked at the world with wonder.
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