First Date Nerves. [various]

Wound Dressings (Yandere Idol!Xiao/Reader)

a/n: happy lantern rite, everyone!!! here's xiao, hope anyone that wants to pull for him gets him <3 (CW: yandere, implied ptsd, mild violence, scaramouche is fricking foul as hell.)

unreliable synopsis: As the producer of 5wirl's beloved rapper, you found yourself stuck between Xiao and the nefarious fashion stylist/designer- Scaramouche-'s wars.

Alice's note: Producer Starlight, we need to talk. Right now. The CEO is waiting.

Yandere Idol Match-Up Masterlist

------

“Xiao, your face, it's burnt–”

“Don’t.” Xiao huffed. “Don’t come any closer. I’m fine.”

Anyone can tell 5wirl's rapper has a hard time getting close to people and you find that rather tragic. It’s a shame that Xiao chose to be distant when you find his rap music enthralling like no other, and you can tell he pours his soul into each lyric he writes. He sings desperately as though it's his last strip of breath left with voice cracks so raw and heartbreaking. While Venti sounds theatrical and clear, his will always be raspy and hauntingly unique. Every project he’s involved with sheds light on his authenticity, and you yearned for an opportunity to have him talk to you just as honestly.

However, you paid more heed to his need for emotional distance, not wanting to be nosy in this instance. You concentrated on advancing his career without meddling in his personal affairs, staying strictly business. It was not your place to know more and be some uneducated therapist.

At least, you had faith that you could maintain that belief until you noticed his sloppy bandaged cheek. Xiao stumbled forward, his hair untidy. You clenched your jaw. You grasped for his arm, feeling somewhat enraged. Instead of reacting, he simply awaited your inevitable worry.

“Who did this to you, Xiao?” You whispered angrily.

“A firework accident,” Xiao grunted. “My cousin can vouch for me. Yesterday’s lantern rite. Do not worry about me.”

“Is that so…”

You can’t muster the courage to question ADDICKTZ's Mister Zhongli, and that’s precisely why you know Xiao’s hiding a secret. Lying between his molars was not something he could do without a hitch.

Especially not to someone as observant as you.

“Does this have something to do with the stylist?”

While you technically shouldn’t risk your neck for a theory…

… It's better to route the problem immediately.

Xiao shamelessly ignored your question. In any case, you already knew the answer. This was just for confirmation’s sake. He would have stayed as stoic as always had you two been in a space that was any less secluded than the backrooms. No fan was aware of how much Xiao detested 5wirl's main stylist because none of his musings were made public.

Scaramouche, “The Wanderer.”

He’s a big name with a larger-than-life ego. Giving credit where it is due, Scaramouche is a fantastic model, but a patient stylist? He was not. He has an incurable habit of pushing everyone’s buttons that it's almost impressive. You've seen the way he yanked and pulled 5wirl like ragdolls, the only exception was Kazuha and Venti, but the latter to a lesser extent.

To no one’s surprise, Xiao does not like him.

Just a week ago, you've watched him perform “Fallen Leaves” uncomfortably on a Mondstadt Television (MTV) award show. An untrained eye is unlikely to notice how little footwork he displayed considering his constricted jeans. After the song ended, Xiao irritably loosened his belt and rolled his eyes. He didn't bow like the rest of 5wirl, instead, he left immediately without a word— that was something the fans certainly did not miss. To the common stan, it was "hot", to the wiser folks, it was a sign that something was amiss.

—

“He did it on purpose. The Wanderer wanted to prove a point,” these were the only words Xiao told you with bated breaths as he wrenched the buttons off his suffocating attire, popping and dropping them to the ground. He has little consideration for who might enter his room— not when he couldn’t breathe— not when he trusts that you’ll guard the door.

Once his chest was out and he could inhale with ease, a small smile was sighted adorning his face. He favored you with a victorious grin. 

“And he failed.”

You’ve known that whenever he’s down, he tends to focus more on his skills. Thus you mistakenly thought this was just a matter of work. You didn’t realize at the time that he was fighting for something else.

It was a gorgeous smile. A rare eye candy enticing enough to make you wish he considered you a companion. But the frown that followed as you heard Scaramouche screeching outside erased whatever joy you felt as you stumbled to lock the door.

You scowled.

“Did he really fail when he still has you wrapped around his fingers?”

Xiao didn't answer. Instead, he pried your hand off and unlocked the door.

“As long as it’s not you, it doesn’t matter how far he takes his tantrums.”

—

You believe otherwise.

That incident stirred a cold war between Xiao and 5wirl’s lead stylist. Scaramouche used to just pepper vulgar phrases but now it appears in every other sentence. None of the fans knew thanks to the AKASHA Device Policy System of disabling screenshots on employee devices. What happens in Teyvat Productions, stays in Teyvat Productions. Scaramouche would have been fired from the company with a hollow public apology from the CEO if they had known even a glimpse of the snark he spews at every 5wirl employee. 

”Did he do this?”

You cupped his cheek. Xiao didn't wince from the pain. It's all due to his extended Military Service training, you're sure of it. Thankfully, it doesn't look too bad. Curable, most definitely, but it doesn't change the fact someone attempted to hurt your employer.

“It’s… This is my burden to carry. It has nothing to do with you—”

“But I’m here for you, Xiao. You know I have a strong sixth sense, and something is wrong. You can tell me anything.”

Xiao leaned onto your palm, putting a hand above yours. He felt his chest tighten, but his face did not mark his anguish.

He may not show it visibly, but your touch broke him. On the souls of all his friends and the lives of his family, he can swear with every fiber of his being that this is as honest as he could be.

“He doesn't understand that I lost everything.” He did not look at you, but his sudden grip begged you to stay.

“–that I felt EVERYTHING.”

You stiffened, your spine shook at how concise but oddly oppressive those words were. His words were nothing to write home about, but the way his husky voice and slight growl loomed after a moment of silence was unforgettable.

Instinctively, you knew what this was about.

Bosacius.

You didn't want to pry so you knew little about him other than he accidentally died when he and Xiao were reservists. There is a mandatory Liyue and Inazuman law that stipulates that men must serve their country for about a year or two, no idol is exempted from that. According to speculations and a few hints in the lyrics Xiao composed, the idol likely watched his friend cover up a faulty grenade to save everyone in the vicinity. You did attempt to console him once, but Xiao is adamant that such comments would be an insult to Bosacius' Heroics. He “accepted” his death long before you became his producer. His soul is likely in a better place.

See where this is headed? It's not rocket science. Put “Scaramouche” and “fireworks” together and you’d get something foul. That damn multi-talented designer did something and now Xiao’s uncharacteristically more emotive.

Scaramouche likely used fireworks to reignite Xiao’s trauma.

Perhaps this line of thinking is uncouth, but this would serve as a great opening to finally get to know the person you work for on a deeper level. But for Scaramouche to unearth those memories for the sake of arguing… What a petty man.

“He wanted to “share” something that’s mine to protect,” Xiao muttered. "He insisted that giving them up to him will be a way to absolve my sins. But… I…”

He grunted.

“I don’t want to share them.” Xiao sneered. "Having them around is the last joy I have."

You feel as though the thing or person they’re fighting over is someone related to 5wirl, but you were too tired to listen to your muted intuition.

“Who is “them”?” You asked. “Would you be willing to tell me?”

He shook his head.

“I… can’t.”

“I see, that’s okay. It takes time to open up— Xiao?”

Xiao remained silent. He quickly seized the water bottle you were holding and chugged it down. As Xiao drank, you both moved in the direction of the fans while giving him your famous mask to cover the burn. His followers don't need to be aware of this.

But damn it. You’re tired of this back-and-forth pettiness.

You’ll have to step in.

——

However, your colleagues do not favor that idea. 

“Are you certain you wanna approach him?” Venti’s producer frowned. “Knowing Scaramouche’s past… instability, I’m not sure if that’s the brightest idea you’ve come up with.”

It usually takes a long time for you to naturally get close to others but after careful observation, you've deduced that none of your fellow producers were unsavory people. In truth, they were simple to read, particularly Venti and Heizou's producers. As a result, you already knew this was going to happen; you just want to let them know out of respect.

“We never know unless we try,” Heizou’s producer spoke up, somewhat optimistic but with a twinge of demur. “You’re too depressed. Who knows? Maybe you can persuade him to stop. You’re Scara’s favorite, after all.”

Favorite is a bit of a stretch, but that man does tolerate your presence.

Kazuha’s producer chortled, “that kind of hypothetical is next to impossible.”

Heizou’s producer hummed the bridge to 5wirl’s song “Sweet Dream.” You knew your coworker didn't want to prove them right, but the lyrics to that song referred to failed plans– and that's enough information for you to infer that even they think deep down that the idea was stupid.

You closed your eyes. It truly wasn't your best plan— it's straight up walking to the lion’s den, but you have to try….

“… (Y/n)? Hello?”

You blinked. Ah, you've zoned out again.

“It's better than nothing,” you said. “I can't just let everyone here be constantly berated by that narcissist.”

“Even his assistant can be a pain in the neck too, you know?” Venti’s producer chimed in. “Ya better hope you're not dealing with both of them once you get there. You might start a house fire or something.”

There's no point in this conversation. Sighing, you reached for your bag, ready to leave.

“Hmm? Now, where are you going, my ge qin'ai de?”

Baizhu— 5wirl’s creative director— stood, leaning by the door frame. Based on his lax demeanor, you assumed he had just recently taken his medicine. The rest of the producers laughed awkwardly, not knowing whether they should let him in on your plans or not. He usually accepts all forms of communion, no matter how chaotic or personal it is. But this instance urged everyone that omitting some truths was the best option.

“(Y/n)’s on their way to buy some fabric,” Venti’s producer lied. “Scaramouche had been such a pain in the neck lately so, eh, we decided to be more proactive to avoid his stupid wrath.”

“Ahhh, I see! How lovely.” Baizhu laughed, but just as you were about to walk past him, he weakly grasped your arm.

"Far be it from me to pry into my producers’ personal affairs, but once you get there,” he bent down and whispered to your ear.

“Tell that charlatan and his assistant that this will be the last time they hurt one of my kids, understood?”

As you looked up at the creative director's snake eyes, a chill went up your spine. He didn't express it as a threat; rather, he said it as a certain truth. It seemed as though Director Baizhu was determined that this was Scaramouche's final transgression. You made a mental note of that.

Director Baizhu must’ve known something that you didn't.

“Yes, Director.”

“Wonderful,” Baizhu smiled, but his gaze looked distant.

“Be sure to buy wound dressings along the way.”

——

“No way. Nu-uh.”

“Please, I seriously need to talk to him—”

“Do you wanna get stabbed? Just trust me, bro, he doesn’t want to see anyone right now. He’s too busy dressing up that haunted doll of his.” Scaramouche’s assistant trembled burlesquely, putting more pressure on the door that separates you two. “Like, he’s so unhinged right now that– high-key? Working at KFC ain't sounding so bad.”

His assistant sighed, rolling their eyes. They appeared different compared to when you last saw them. Their hair’s significantly shorter and their fingers are red from sewing– and if your eyes weren't fooling you, they're a bit burnt…?

You squinted.

“Those marks… He overworked you last night, right? Forced you to use lighters to cut threads over scissors, didn’t he?”

They glared. Struck a nerve there.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe I am just reaching for straws here–” you admitted rather plainly. “But that doesn't change the fact that you don't like your boss, and I don't like him enough that I drove all the way to confront him. What say you to letting me give him a piece of my mind?”

That seemed to work. At least, for a second.

“No… No, I seriously can't.” His assistant shook their head, with more conviction this time. “I don't want a repeat of last time.”

“(Y/n), you’re here as well.”

You both turned to look behind you.

A man wearing a mask and sunglasses— clearly Xiao— stood just a breath away from touching your shoulder. You jolted.

How didn’t you notice that he was right behind you?

“Oh, he’s here too…” the assistant said. They didn’t sound particularly hostile when addressing Xiao. “Sir, you can’t just enter if it isn't urgent.”

“But it is urgent,” You lied. “Just let us in or at least have me go inside alone—”

Xiao gently squeezed your shoulder. The mulish look in his visage beckoned you that he didn't like that idea. You didn’t have time to question what he’s doing here. His opaque stubbornness made you completely forget that he was holding you longer than he usually does.

Time and time again, he’ll remind you that he didn’t want you near Scaramouche.

“Oh my God— bitch. How many times do I have to fucking— HE'S NOT ENTERTAINING GUESTS.” The assistant growled. “Please, just listen to me. I'm honestly saving you both the trouble of talking to that edgelord.”

“Please, this seriously wouldn't take long–”

“Are you deaf or just stupid? What part of not entertaining guests did you not understand?”

Speak of the devil.

The pretentious prick arrived– him and his damn ostentatiously designed hat. He shared your gaze immediately and you swore his face lit up. It was as if he was waiting for you for quite some time now, but you’re not confident in that hunch.

“Ah, it's you.”

You cleared your throat. “Good evening, sir Wanderer–”

He smirked.

“Long time no see, starlight,” Scaramouche said. “Your dog here sure kept dragging us apart from each other.”

Xiao raised an eyebrow. It was the first time he had heard someone call you by that nickname, and while it doesn’t show in his features, he was rather unnerved at how you casually let him call you by such an endearing nickname.

This only matters because Scaramouche rarely addresses anyone beneath him with respect, much less affection.

Xiao glared at him.

Scaramouche continued, “here to give me an answer?”

“No.” You didn't waste a second. “The answer is no. I don't want to be your model.”

Xiao’s eyes widened. He immediately shielded you, but Scara merely tilted his head to maintain his gaze.

“Model?” Xiao spat coldly. “So that’s the card you're playing, Kunikuzushi.”

Scaramouche’s grin widened, “move your head away, insect.”

He doesn’t deserve to see you.

Without much thought, you bit your lip. You weren’t expecting much of a reaction if you told Xiao that Scaramouche wanted to hire you before. He tried scouting you months before he started harassing Xiao. Telling him about it slipped past your mind.

Scaramouche frowned, his eyes gauging his assistant’s reaction, “still, what a shame… With your face, you would've been a fine addition to my runway, Mx. (Y/n).”

“… Huh, so you do know my name.”

“Course I do. Xiao follows anyone who says (Y/n) around like a damn shit-for-brains dog. I’m not stupid enough to miss his owner’s name.”

Xiao made a sound you couldn't quite describe. It bordered on both a whimper and a threat.

You scrunched at the title, “that’s not true.”

“Then that only speaks volumes to how good of a stalker he is,” He clapped. "Bravo, I'm impressed. For once."

Scaramouche scoffed yet there was a genuine smile on his face. Swiftly, he approached you and had his assistant not held Xiao back, the famous designer wouldn’t have had the opportunity to grab your hand and gently kiss it out of nowhere.

You felt absolutely nothing from this gesture. Instead, you unconsciously fixed your eyes on Xiao.

And he’s most certainly pissed.

“You deserve to be working for me instead, puppet,” he muttered. “Honestly, I can’t see why you’re working for him— he's barely aesthetically pleasing. A lower-rate beauty. Do you even give a damn about your skin-care routine, worm? You look like shit. Go back to the fucking military. Muscles are required there, but looks? Not expected.”

Out of the blue, the designer gently cupped your face– your faces now an inch apart as he fixes stray strands of your hair. Strangely enough, you can't feel his breath. His face may be close, but his attention did not belong to you. You can tell from a mile away you’re being used.

As to what you’re being used for? You can’t tell.

Suddenly, Scaramouche’s assistant cleared their throat.

“Hey starlight, can you come outside with me for a sec?” They said.

The assistant held up their phone. You heard Xiao shakily exhale as you pulled away from the stylist.

“Director Baizhu’s calling.”

—-

“Director? Is something the matter?”

“Ah yes, did you buy the wound dressings?”

You did your best to hide your scoff.

Seriously, right now?

“Yes, right now.”

Oh. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Scaramouche’s assistant— whom you were borrowing a phone from— laughed softly, bemused. They led you to The Wanderer’s garden for some “privacy”, and yet their ears seemed cleaner than most. You didn’t mind them listening to some "tea." It’s better than being alone in unfamiliar territory.

“Trust me, dear. You’ll need it later.” Baizhu’s laughter echoed.

…

“What do you mean by that, sir?”

“Answer me first, did you buy some?”

“No.”

“Poor choice. You’ll never know when there’s an emergency that calls for it.”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

Something is off.

Baizhu sighed, “nevermind. So, how was your shopping trip? What fabric have you brought, send me the hex code.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, qin'ai de?”

“You called because you wanted to distract me, didn’t you?”

…

You were hoping that you wouldn’t hear his laughter from the other line.

“Oh, Xiao. I’ve tried.”

Slowly, you hung up and lowered the phone down to your thigh.

No… It can’t be.

You started sprinting back to where you came from.

“H-Hey, wait! You still have my phone!—”

You need to go.

NOW.

You already knew what was happening, but at that moment you slipped out a prayer to any Archon that might listen.

Please… Please don’t be right…

—-

… But then again, when has your sixth sense ever failed you?

Xiao’s stony expression crumbled and his more livid countenance shone through. You were too far to cinch his right arm from throwing a punch in the designer’s direction–

But he managed to surprise you by using his left fist instead.

“You will sooner die than lay a hand on them— not even their fucking hair.”

“Y-You—!!!”

Scaramouche was already littered with bruises when you got there, his hanfu torn and his hate discarded and stomped on with abandon.

You trembled at the sight, knees nearly buckling down.

You were too late.

They both appeared unaware of your ghostly presence behind. In a single fast motion, you witnessed your beloved idol punch Scaramouche in the ribs. You winced as a crack reverberated throughout the room before Scaramouche inhaled sharply. The thing that most alarmed you, though, was the sound of Xiao's curt yet stern chuckle, which was a dead giveaway that he wasn't going to stop until the designer was rendered immobilized. Scaramouche made an effort to stand up from the ground using his fist as support, but Xiao quickly grabbed him by the collar like a mother cat would a difficult child.

“Weak,” Xiao spoke. “Why did you even dare to provoke me when you can barely defend yourself? You’re not worthy of calling (Y/n) by any other name.”

“Y-You fucking jealous dumbass. Your career is over once I’m through with you!” Scaramouche coughed up, blood spitting out from his mouth and onto Xiao’s clenched hand. “You fucking worm— I could just release the CCTV recordings and—”

“You won’t be able to retrieve any recordings,” Xiao said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

He dropped Scaramouche and knelt to his level.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to beg Xiao to stop.

But you can’t recognize him, and the words died in your throat.

“You won’t find a single clip.”

Scaramouche’s face softened into a look of dismissive defeat. However, his stony yet smug expression resurfaced.

“Ah, so Tighnari’s in on this too,” Scaramouche laughed, slowly devolving into a mildly hysterical fit. “Of course, of course! You already have Baizhu’s go signal so it’s not surprising you got that genius’ approval too. Only natural that a weak person like you have so many accomplices to back up your obsession—”

“And you?”

“H-hah. And what?”

Xiao dragged him closer.

“Where are YOUR friends, Kunikuzushi?”

…

Xiao breathed in, closing his eyes.

“I am not like you. I am not an easy target simply because I often act alone.”

In a stroke of luck, Scaramouche turned his gaze away— and saw you at the door instead.

Positively mortified.

“D-Don’t—” Scaramouche coughed. “—talk big… H-Ha… Look behind you, insect.”

Once he did, Xiao stiffened.

No, no, no— why are you here?

… Why did you get back inside?

That wasn’t part of the plan— didn’t Baizhu call you?

“(Y-Y/n), I…”

You weren’t supposed to see this.

He took a step forward, you instinctively took two steps back. You cursed yourself internally for letting your fear get the best of you when you knew that despite Scaramouche’s broken nose and bloody lips, it was Xiao who needed your help the most.

His heart dropped.

“Producer, this is…”

His throat dried up.

Why is it so draining for him to open himself up to you?

“D-Did you see that, starlight?” Scaramouche droned. Even when he's losing blood, his silver tongue quips a retort.

“Did you see the monster you were working for?”

“Xiao” pivoted his heels, frowning even now as the mutilated man lost consciousness below him. You could barely recognize Scaramouche from all that blood. “Xiao” took a step closer to you. You couldn't move. Your feet were rooted to your spot.

Fortunately, he moved on auto-pilot, grabbing you by the arm and carefully swerving past Scaramouche’s assistant to head outside.

He didn’t give you a chance to ponder over Scaramouche’s words.

For a moment, neither of you said a thing as you stood at the front gate. It felt like an eternity before you mustered the courage to speak up.

“… You’re bleeding.”

Why aren't you comforting his hand? Please hold his hand gently. Please hold him.  

Another voice screamed inside his head, one that sounded similar to Scaramouche.

Can't you see that expression on their face? That's fear. That's betrayal. The person you love thinks you're a monster, Xiao.

“... I bought some wound dressings. They’re inside my car.”

—

“Be sure to buy wound dressings along the way.”

—

Instead of feeling relief, you shivered at how convenient it was for him to keep some in his vehicle. Director Baizhu’s mind echoed in your head almost like an apparition.

In other words: this was premeditated.

And you don’t know what to make of that information.

“(Y/n).”

“Y-Yes?”

You zoned out that you didn’t realize you were already in front of “Xiao”’s car, still holding the assistant’s phone.

He squeezed your hand lightly.

“Don’t leave me.”

His voice cracked.

“Please.”

After a moment of brief silence, you gave him a hesitant frown.

… Your intuition tells you that no matter what you answer, the outcome won’t change.

You squeezed his hand back. If you didn’t, Archons know he would’ve fallen apart. 

“I’m staying.”

In a sense, you think you finally understood Xiao better. It’s just as he said yesterday: he lost everything and he felt everything. This overprotective and downright possessive nature must’ve stemmed from what had happened when he was a reservist. He can’t bear to lose another person. While it may sound nice to know he does think of you as someone important, you wish you realized this about him sooner.

Xiao has a crush on you.

He smiled.

It was a gorgeous smile. A rare eye candy enticing enough to make you glad he considered you a companion.

… But why do you feel terrified?

“Thank you. Allow me to protect you from him— from anyone from now on. Just call out my name.”

You could only fake a laugh in response.

‘Xiao, what an awful liar you are. Lying between your molars was still not something you could do without a hitch.

So do not speak as if you haven't been doing that since the very beginning.’

ANSYTEA: Thank you for joining the 1k idol event, starlight anon!!!!

they're all the same person lmao

I entrust you my fate oh lucky golden potato 🙏

baby birds

Words cannot express how fucked up I am for Haitani Ran and this work ಥ‿ಥ

friends | haitani r.

haitani ran x fem!reader

summary: he shouldn’t have been so damn cocky when he told you not to go catching feelings for him.

genre: fwb to lovers, best friends to lovers

warnings: fem!reader, fwb tropes, semi-public sex, angry/jealous sex, degradation, car sex, UNEDITED

word count: 3.9k

notes: for @kshira​‘s FWB collab! :D 

Keep reading

TSUBAKI CONTENT??? PLS I LOVE HER SM (*´˘`*)♡

TSUBAKI AS YOUR GIRLFRIEND!

notes. the only reason why i got into windbre is because of her and mister white-haired blue-eyed hajime umemiya. (im gonna explode)

contents and warnings. mostly fluff, tsubaki is referred to using she/her pronouns (pls she is heavily transfem-coded), making out (mentioned, non explicit).

✦ Somehow, some way, you managed to get into a relationship with someone as cool and awesome as her! How? Why? You aren't sure, but you don't question it, afraid that it'll backfire on you.

✦ Tsubaki is extremely affectionate and loves PDA. She would hold your hand if you let her to, squeezing it occasionally to make sure you're still hanging onto her. It's a small, little habit that you have formed— a wordless communication.

✦ Sometimes, when she sees you from a distance, she'll run up to you and either greet you with a hug or surpise you with a hug from behind. Forgive her if she buries her face into your hair and smells your shampoo, it makes her giddy when you use the new scented shampoo she recommended you.

✦ More often than not, you'll find lipstick marks all over you when she goes to attack you with kisses. It's a fun surprise whenever you suddenly find a mark on your forehead or on your jaw... It's kind of embarrassing, but hey, that's love you suppose.

✦ If you aren't comfortable with PDA, Tsubaki will understand and will adjust to be more affectionate behind closed doors.

✦ She loves to have sleepovers at your place, even more so when your parents are so welcoming and accepting of her. You'd guys have self-care sessions, pulling out skin-care kits and applying facemasks while watching a movie together; Sometimes, you'd have long rant-filled talks about random things you guys find interest in. The sleepovers often end in either cuddling or makeout sessions that also ends up in cuddling.

✦ Uses pet names, but to the point it's unbearingly sweet. Most of the time, it's the slip of a tongue like "Could pass me the salt, darling?", "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry" and "Don't keep me waiting, Angel"... And the other half is just teasing because she just loves watching you become all flustered.

✦ She's also easily flustered, so you guys have flirting competitions and the first to become shy loses. It's a cute, little bonding moment!

✦ Shopping dates are a must! It's practically a ritual for you both. At first, she brought you along, so you can give your honest opinion whenever she tries out new accesories or outfits. But when you start to do the same, you bet she'll be hyping you up. Even more so when you're the type to stick in your personal bubble and avoid new things.

✦ She's the kind of girlfriend that'll introduce you to things you never thought of trying before, but you're glad you did because it makes you so happy! And that's her number one goal when it comes to you.

✦ Whenever you're feeling down, she's there to comfort you. If you need a calm voice to listen to, she's there to sit beside you and offer her shoulder to dry your tears. She'll pat your head and tell you everything's going to be alright, and just lots of encouraging things.

✦ She'd do anything she can to distract you from your thoughts, even going as far as take out on dates and have you focus on being happy instead of whatever your problem is.

✦ Tsubaki just cares so much and loves you lots, and she wants you to be is comfortable around her. So if you have a problem with anything (i.e loud noises, crowds, being uncomfortable with affection), she'll understand and adjust. All she asks is you do the same for her as well!

✦ With her, people don't even make you a target. I mean, she is one of the four heavenly kings in Boufurin. Anyone who messes with her beloved, messes with her.

✦ If anyone dares to push their luck, well... They best be prepared because she isn't going to let that slide.

✦ And after she's done teaching them a very important lesson on how to keep their noses in their own business, she's off to giving you all the love and affection you deserve, making you forget all about anyone that tried to hurt you.

sakura. nirei. kiryu. togame. ume. pt. 1

You ask him innocently. Of course, being the good partner that he is, he leans in to inspect. But then you meet him in the middle in for a quick peck on the lips. How would he react?

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, semi-suggestive stuff so proceed with caution, GN!Reader! (as always if I do miss something, please don't hesitate to let me know!), THE DARKSIDE OF THE SUN THAT IS NIREI AKIHIKO PLEASE BE WARNED, Togame is a lovesick fuck (and we love that), language (it's me), UME IS ADORABLE AJSDKJASKD SOMEONE HOLD ME THE FUCK BACK!!!!!

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

"wh--!!! H-hey! You can't just do that!"

✦ your boyfriend whisper screams at you, face already red as a tomato (it never fails to amaze you how quickly he blushes so deeply), hand gripping yours softly but firmly in place just in case you might do something else. You can't help but giggle at how much he's freaking out. It's adorable.

✦ Absolutely, absolutely, at loss for words. If anything, he's just sputtering. Bicolored eyes staring at you with furrowed brows and you can just TELL he's planning about doing something in retaliation. He is. Just you wait.

✦ Gotta pray you both are in public because once he gets you alone? UH OH. He's pouncing on you, pinning you down onto the nearest surface to press a lingering kiss on your lips, tongue darting out to trace the seam of it. OOOOoOOoo You're gonna get it now.

"..you're gonna pay for that."

𝐍𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐈.

"!!!!! b-b-bunny!!"

✦ much like Sakura, your man is an absolute sputtering mess. But you can tell he's trying his damn best to keep it together. If this were any other time, he could have been prepared for this, y'know?! Please warn him next time oh my god he might end up collapsing from sheer shock.

✦ You pat his back soothingly, leaning in to press more kisses on his reddened cheeks to whisper apologies and soft giggles into his skin. You can feel him smiling. Thank goodness! He lets out a cute little satisfied sigh and you smile against his cheek, pressing even more kisses into it. little did you know....

✦ Oh but before you feel like he's gotten over it, he's gathered enough nerves to let his fingers search for yours, threading his between them, another slightly trembling hand cups your cheek and you can feel his breath fanning against your lips. Swallowing dryly, he lets out a shaky breath. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he leans in closer, heavy lidded eyes staring you down as he blurts out,

"...can I check again just in case? Please?"

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐔.

"you're so bad."

✦ you can hear him purring almost, skilled fingers now wrapped around your waist, caressing and kneading your flesh. Before he tries anything else, he looks into your eyes, looking for assurance that he's doing the right thing, reading into it correctly. YOUR MAN KNOWS BOUNDARIES AND YOUR LIMITS HE WON'T DO ANYTHING UNTOWARD AND UNSAVORY TOWARDS YOU UNLESS YOU ASK HIM TO OH MY FUCKING GOOASDIHASD--

✦ you kind of feel like he saw through your silly little prank though by how he let out an affectionate little huff when you asked him. Of course he knows you don't have any dirt on your face. He couldn't keep his eyes off you even if he tried to. He'd wipe the dirt away before you even felt something, really. (Plus you may or may not have forgotten he pulled this prank on you before...)

✦ But once you give him the go ahead with you leaning into his touch, he takes that as a sign. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek before taking your hand in his to press butterfly kisses onto your knuckles. Oh the jealousy the onlookers must feel right now.

"It's getting kinda late out, no? Wanna head home, love?"

𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.

"oho? Wanna try doing that again f'me, dolly?"

✦ OF COURSE HE ASKS YOU TO DO IT AGAIN. You don't, of course. But that doesn't mean that'd wipe the smirk off of your man's lips. If anything, he's gone bolder. You've awoken the beast, baby. He's glancing at your lips then back into your eyes with those damn emerald greens of his OIUUUhhuUHGhh!!!!!!!!! He doesn't care who's looking or where you both are right now. He's way too in love with you to even give two shits about who's looking lmao what're they gonna do????? STOP HIM FROM LOVING ON HIS BABY???? FUCK OUTTA HERE.

✦ he lets out a hum, leaning into you more to tease you a little more. How dare you pull away to match his teasing just as he's inching closer to you? How dare you deny your man the pleasure of kissing you?!!!! A large hand reaches behind you, relaxing at the small of your back to secure you closer to him. You swear you hear your heart beating out of your chest. No matter how long you've been together, he never fails to fluster you. (Of course his heart is beating just as loudly, just as fast.)

✦ You (and everybody else that dare look at you both right now, to be honest) can tell how much he's absolutely, UNABASHEDLY in love with you by how he's looking at you right now (or any time for that matter). Always keeping him on his toes with your spontaneity, he decides to respond in kind. Tracing his thumb across your lower lip, he can't help but speak just loud enough for you to hear,

"Do I got any dirt on my face?"

𝐔𝐌𝐄.

"..! Honey...! Haha! C'mon. Behave yourself. lemme check."

✦ IS COMPLETELY UNAWARE THAT WAS YOUR ENTIRE SCHTICK. YOU REALLY DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING ON YOUR FACE BUT GOD DAMN IT WITH THE WAY HE'S LOOKING AT YOU IT MAKES YOU WISH YOU HAD MORE THAN JUST SMUDGE OF DIRT ON IT RIGHT NOW PLEASEPLAEPASLEPELA---(is dragged off the stage, microphone dropped on the floor, trail of tears snail behind me as I'm being dragged out)

✦ genuinely wants to help. Is kind of worried you're just sat there staring up at him with his hands cupping your cheeks to hold you still, giving your pretty features a once twice thrice over to see if you got any dirt on you. Eventually you have to confess that it was a prank :(((( he only chuckles, peppering kisses on your face until the both of you are giggling messes. His strong arms are around your waist now, holding you securely against him. The giggles die down as you look into each other's eyes. You could just melt right then and there. He'd follow suit of course.

✦ With an affectionate sigh, he traces his fingers along your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Featherlike and gentle. He leans in to kiss you--God he never fails to make every kiss feel like the first time. Your heart is beating out of your chest as he pulls away with a smile. Chasing your lips for another chaste kiss, he chuckles,

"if you wanted a kissy kiss, you could have told me, y'know?"

a/n: NIREI DEBUT NIREI DEBBBUUUUUUTTTT!!!!!!!! I know for a fact Nirei's got a secret little ⟡𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓬𝔂⟡ side to him. I just know it. That damn notebook knows too much. He's gotta have something juicy--learned something juicy from it too. Also the fact that he's working so closely with Suo...... I...... I just know...... That they--he.. uh...... ////// (pulls the microphone cord off forcefully and walks off stage, slamming the door behind me you can hear my muffled screams through the hardwood.)

⸻ ɞ "for you and only you"

them buying gifts for you ﹒﹒wind breaker boys ♡

꒷꒦ pairings: hajime umemiya, jo togame, ren kaji, akihiko nirei, hayato suo, haruka sakura, toma hiragi, kyotaro sugishita x gn. reader (separate)

HAJIME UMEMIYA | 梅宮 一 ─ ✦ . ⁺ ♡

A man who goes all out for occasions such as this, but not with the typical pricey gifts and extravagant items many might initially suggest. Instead, UMEMIYA chooses something somewhat whimsical, to the surprise of everyone and, at the same time, no one.

He dives headfirst into his garden, tending to plants with the same care and attention most people reserve for rare jewels. Why? Because in his eyes, nothing says "I love you" quite like a potted fern or a blooming orchid that he’s nurtured from a seedling and shoved into your arms. On various occasions when you would visit Furin, you would, to your surprise, unexpectedly catch your boyfriend with dirt under his nails and a triumphant grin on his face, presenting you with a beautifully grown plant.

"I grew this just for you!" he declares, utterly beaming with pride and happiness. "Don't you like it?!"

You laughed. Of course you did. It's why you fell in love with him, after all. It was like having a child in a teenage guy’s body. Of course, Umemiya loves to spoil you in other ways, too. If you were to ask him for anything, you would get it within a day. You ask, and you shall receive. He's all about giving you little thoughtful gifts on the daily and showering you with attention—his clinginess almost feels like a gift in itself, if you could call that so.

Still, he understands that material items and grand gestures only go so far. A cliche, yes, but regardless, Umemiya's gifts are not just plants—it's the love he pours into every small, thoughtful act. When he hands you a plant, it's not just a simple gift. It's a piece of his heart, cultivated and grown with you in mind. Some might say he’s overdoing it when he shows up with yet another rare flower or exotic herb, all the while practically suffocating you physically with all his affection as the others, like Hiragi, watch with either deadpan faces or in true horror like Nirei, the poor guy can never catch a break. Perhaps he is, but in Umemiya's eyes, showing his true love is never overdoing it. Never to you.

JO TOGAME | 十亀 条 ─ ✦ . ⁺ ♡

Get yourself someone like TOGAME who pays attention to the little things. Not to say that the others don’t, but there’s just something about Togame that makes you feel truly seen at all times, even if he does initially seem like his mind is off in another dimension. At first glance, Togame might initally appear aloof, his eyes blank and glazed over as if he's contemplating the philosophy of life or trying to recall if he left the stove on when he left home that day. 

He’s got that spaced-out look, constantly unfocused and seemingly lost in his own world. But don’t let that fool you—despite that continually distracted look of his, lies a man who notices and knows everything about you. Never in a creepy way, of course. Because beneath that absent-minded exterior is a man who catches all the little details. Togame remembers your offhand comments, the fleeting glances you cast at little things that catch your eye, and even the snacks you like to munch on during your and his late-night at-home dates together. It’s almost comedic how he can be so scatterbrained one moment and then present you with a gift that’s so spot-on it feels like he read your mind.

It’s impressive and a little baffling to see just how attentive he is. He’ll hand you a beautifully wrapped present and, with a nonchalant shrug, say, “I noticed you were eyeing this the other day.” Meanwhile, you’re left wondering when he even managed to notice, considering he now seemed wholly engrossed in staring at a cloud—but in reality, all he looks at is you and only you.

REN KAJI | 梶蓮 ─ ✦ . ⁺ ♡

At first, KAJI may appear to know what he's doing, giving off an air of confidence and exuding an aura so convincing that even his own friends believe he's got everything under control and that Kaji had the perfect gift planned out for you. But, oh, if only they knew. Because internally, it is anything but controlled. Kaji is a frantic mess from head to toe and is just barely holding it together. For Christ's sake, Nirei one time even found the second year furiously muttering and cursing out a cluster of innocent plants on the school field, seemingly at being useless sacks of leaves.

Nirei would never understand quite why that happened, nor did he bother to ask, in fear of his potential demise by doing so...

Regardless, Kaji meticulously plans, second-guesses himself, and agonizes over every decision, to the point where multiple times, he would take off his headphones in the hopes of finding total concentration and that maybe, just maybe, an idea would hit him. Spoiler, it doesn't. It was a strategy that only ended in disaster. The sight is almost comical—Kaji, usually so composed, reduced to a bundle of nerves as he tries to decide if you’d prefer a handmade card or a store-bought one. Eventually, he abandons both the plants and his failed attempts at making a DIY gift of his own, pivoting to something that’s more “him.” 

After all his frantic efforts and internal chaos, he sheepishly presents you with a handmade mixtape, carefully curated with songs that remind him of you and your time together. Each track is selected with care, and when he finally presents it, his nerves are palpable. Any kind of reaction that wasn't disgust, he would be happy with. Unbeknownst to even himself. However, your first reaction to receiving it was to immediately embrace him. It's a gift that speaks volumes, even if he struggles to express it in words. A blend of his love for music and his love for you. Because beneath his aloof exterior, and despite the chaos behind the scenes, lies a heart that beats just for you and you alone.

AKIHIKO NIREI | 楡井秋彦 ─ ✦ . ⁺ ♡

Enter NIREI, the human encyclopedia of your life, with a notebook thicker than a brick and more detailed than your school textbooks. Nirei probably has anything and everything you've ever said written down in his notebook. His meticulous, borderline frantic nature means he doesn't miss a single detail, capturing every word you utter with precision, whether you genuinely meant it or not. Seriously, the guy probably has a section dedicated to your favourite foods alone. 

He’s constantly with a notebook in hand, furiously scribbling down every passing comment, no matter how trivial. To him, it's better to be safe than sorry—after all, he can’t afford to disappoint you, not when he's committed to being your personal mind reader, one way or another. In fact, it would come to the surprise of no one if Nirei had an entire 500-page notebook dedicated solely to you, complete with tabs, colour-coded highlights, and footnotes.

And those who do find out about this "notebook" and read through even just the first page are utterly deadpan at just how smitten Nirei was for you. The hearts in his eyes practically say it all. His dedication to cataloguing your every whim and fancy might seem a tad extreme to the common folk, but to Nirei, it's all in the name of ensuring your happiness. And when he does present you with a gift, it feels almost magical, as if he's read your mind. Sure, it’s a bit unnerving to know that he probably knows your cafe order better than you do, but hey, at least you’ll never have to worry about forgetting your preferences. It's more than just a gesture, his careful attention to detail makes every gift a meaningful token of his affection. With Nirei by your side, it's like having your very own walking, talking wishlist. Even if Nirei isn't strong physically—he can't fight like everybody else in Furin—his meticulous planning and thoughtfulness show just how far he's willing to go in order to make you happy.

HAYATO SUO | 蘇枋 隼飛  ─ ✦ . ⁺ ♡

Now, let’s talk about SUO, Furin's resident memory master. Unlike Nirei, who hoards notebooks like a squirrel hoards acorns, Suo relies solely on the immense storage capacity of his brain to keep track of every single detail about you, retaining it all in his memory alone.

His mind is like a steel trap, capturing every little detail about you, his significant other. He can effortlessly recall every conversation, shared moment, and quirky little habit you have and stores it in his memory, all the while keeping it secret behind that enigmatic smile of his. He's a mysterious man, even to you, but you can always tell his intentions are pure, no matter how initially suspicious he may be.

Some might call it borderline telepathic, but to Suo, it’s all just part of being deeply devoted to you in his own way. When he comes to you with a perfectly timed gift, it’s not because he’s some kind of mind reader (although it sometimes does feel that way). It’s simply because you’re the most important thing in his world, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, even if it means sacrificing a little extra brain space for the cause—as if that’s even troubling to him. Gifts from Suo are always a surprise, even to you. He hides things incredibly well without you knowing a thing. But it's not without a touch of mischief, considering all the pranks and teases he often likes to pull. You frequently find yourself asking him, "How did you even know I wanted this?" only for him to aloofly reply with a cryptic smile or an offhanded comment.

"Oh wow, Hayato, how did you know I wanted this?!"

"Oh, I just happened to notice when I saw how your face lit up at the sight of it the other day."

"I- wha- …you got it from just noticing my reactions?"

"Of course! Who would I be if I didn't notice such a thing from my significant other?"

"A stalker..."

"Now now, don't be like that!"

HARUKA SAKURA | 桜 遥 ─ ✦ . ⁺ ♡

Anyone and everyone with ears that day who are unlucky enough to cross paths with SAKURA that day would no longer be the same after getting a panicked earful from his guy. Just imagine him, frantically running around like a chicken with its head cut off, who turns gift-giving into a mission worthy of a military operation, and that is Sakura Haruka. 

He’s the guy who interrogates his friends about what to get you, practically hosting a roundtable discussion as he frantically brainstorms the perfect gift. Picture him pacing back and forth, sweating bullets, and badgering everyone in sight for advice. He consults everyone he knows, hoping to find some idea of the ideal present that will light up the smile on your face—one that he has grown to love and cherish. Sakura's desperation knows no bounds; he's calling up acquaintances he hasn’t even bothered to speak to until now, just to get their input on this seemingly not-important dilemma. But once the dusk settles and he's had a moment to gather his thoughts, Sakura is the one to make the final call. 

And in the end, he gets you a gift that is perfect and oh-so-thoughtful. The effort he puts into his choice shows just how much he cherishes you in his life and will continue to do so. It's not just a gift; it's a heartfelt expression of his love, chosen all with the intention of making you smile. Though he will never admit to you how long it actually took for him to get that singular gift for you. Not even on his grave.

TOMA HIRAGI | 柊登馬  ─ ✦ . ⁺ ♡

Poor HIRAGI, who, at first, dives headfirst into the idea of gift-giving with all the enthusiasm in the world. He's got that determined look in his eyes—a look enough to scare off any middle-schooler within a mile—ready to craft the perfect present for you. Fast forward a few hours, and he’s surrounded by a chaotic mess of craft supplies, looking at his creation with dawning horror. Realization hits him like a pound of bricks. The gift is utter garbage, something you’d never like... Hiragi first tries to salvage it, maybe gluing on a few more sparkles or attaching a heartfelt note, but deep down, he knows it’s a lost cause.

His mind goes into overdrive, perhaps popping more than a few nerve pills into his mouth as he hurriedly rethinks his plan, determined to make things right. In a moment of panic, Hiragi scrambles to come up with something better. His mind races, and he quickly pivots to Plan B. He ditches the failed craft project and decides to give you something far more meaningful—a date, an entire day planned around your favourite activities.

From a breakfast at your favourite cafe to a scenic walk in the park with an amazing view of the sunset, followed by a movie marathon of your beloved films, this time, he is confident. Hiragi pours his heart into creating an experience rather than a physical gift. It's a corny move, sure, but his dedication to making you happy shines through.  Your happiness is the true present Hiragi strives to provide and cherish with all his heart. Ultimately, it's not the material items that matter but the love and effort he puts into spending time with you. His actions speak louder than any physical gift ever could.

KYOTARO SUGISHITA | 杉下京太郎  ─ ✦ . ⁺ ♡

To him, this was something not to be taken lightly. Thus, his plan was put into motion. SUGISHITA's quest to ensure perfection involves quiet observation that borders on creepy, with intense staring sessions that would make even the most seasoned blush just to get the perfect gift for you. You can practically feel his eyes boring into you as he notes your likes and dislikes, all while maintaining an innocent facade—at least, in his eyes. From your perspective, you beg to differ, but you let him have his moment. Through this, Sugishita tries to gather intel on your favourite foods, movies, and even the type of socks you prefer. His dedication to the art of gift-giving is both impressive and slightly unnerving, but hey, it’s all in the name of love, right?

And when he finally presents you with a gift, it's like he's unveiling some kind of masterpiece he's been working on for months. And in a way, he has been. Even when you know what he has been doing all this time, your heart still melts. Tears fall, and all Sugishita does is frantically comfort you in the best way he knows how—which isn’t saying much, but hey, he's trying his best. He may not wear his heart on his sleeve, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. His methods might be a tad unconventional, but there's no denying the thought and effort he puts into making you happy. After all, who needs words when you have Sugishita's silent but effective gestures of love? His silence all but screams his genuine heart for you. Because each time he's with you, he feels comfortable in your presence, no matter what, without ever needing to say a word.

EXTRAS

CHOJI TOMIYAMA | 兎耳山 丁子 ─ ✦ . ⁺ ♡

Hmmm, his gift for you?

It's him, of course! 

…Don’t give him that look. 

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

AAAAA WINDBREAKER CONTENT I LOVE IT ( ✧Д✧) YES!!

##. MY HEART'S GOING LUB-DUB

♡ things he has said that flustered you.

♡ contents and warnings: established relationships, mentions of making out (nirei), mentions of marriage (sakura), reader’s ears are pierced in suou’s, mild, mild, possessiveness in suou's but not really 🐧

♡ characters: sakura haruka, nirei akihiko, suou hayato (x gn! reader)

Anyone who knows SAKURA HARUKA probably knows that contrary to the delinquent facade he puts up, he is actually quite innocent. A little naive, if you will, blushing at every show of romantic affection. And everyone in Boufuurin knows that’s why he’s become subject to Suou Hayato’s teasing when the brown haired boy needed a good chuckle. And of course, you, as his very lovely partner, had to also jump on the bandwagon of endearingly poking fun at your boyfriend. 

“Y’know, Haruka, you should stop me or else I’m gonna get carried away and keep teasing you even after we get married!” This was a sentence you often say for laughs after you had yet again successfully made Haruka agitated and his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red, all the way up to his ears. Granted, the first time he heard it he couldn’t look you in the eye for two whole days at the mention marriage (it’s not that he doesn’t like it, in fact it was because he likes it a little too much that he couldn’t even make eye contact without imagining you in fancy white attire). But now, he barely bats an eye at it now with how often you say it. But today, it’s evident that that particular sentence had poked at someone’s curiosity as you can sense someone staring at you as you banter with your boyfriend. 

“You know, Sakura-kun, I barely see you reacting to... that. You’re really planning to marry them in the future, huh?” Ah, it's Suou again. His soothing voice drips with mischief, the purpose of his question is obviously to tease his heterochromatic eyed peer yet again. Haruka’s features morph into one of confusion, brows furrowed as he turns to face his vice captain. 

“Hah? What are you talking about?” Haruka inquires like suou’s question is the most ridiculous question in the world. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought suou was asking him if he believed pigs could fly, or if the earth was actually a hexagon. 

(Of course, you can’t lie, suou’s question made you nervous despite how lighthearted he said it. Your self consciousness has already prepared itself for a heartbreak trip as you await your boyfriend to continue his response.)

“Why would I date someone I don’t intend on marrying?” 

Ah, now it’s your cheeks that are heating up. 

“Are you done?” The only answer SUOU HAYATO offers to your inquiry is a focused hum. His hand fumbles with the earring, his earring, as he tries to carefully slide the hook into the small hole on your right earlobe. Though, you have to say, you have nothing particular to complain about as you wait for your boyfriend to put the earring on you. After all, you’re getting the privilege of being in the front seat staring at Suou Hayato’s face as he carefully tries to put the earring on you. Lips pursed and eyes squinted a little, he looks extra handsome when he’s focused, you note. 

“Just need to secure them with the back. And... done!” he heaves out a breath as triumph takes over his features, pulling back slightly to admire his (hardly) hard work. His lips stretch into a smile, satisfied at how the red and yellow of his earring highlights your features more. 

“How does it look?” you feel quite nervous as you wait for his reply, shyly peering at him through your eyelashes. Being so close, you have the advantage of watching closely for any twitch of his features that might indicate satisfaction, dissatisfaction, anything that can indicate what kind of reaction he’s going to emit. 

You twitch slightly at the sensation of his pointer finger and middle finger grazing your chin, touch gentle as he settles them there. You swear you see something flashing in his usually gentle ruby eyes. Something akin to satisfaction, or, even, possessiveness. But you don't comment on it. He moves your head from your side to side as if to examine you thoroughly. (he quietly notes how cute you are for compliantly moving your head.) It’s only when you feel the earring faintly brushing against your right shoulder that you become hyper aware of how empty your left ear feels without an earring weighing it down. You also become hyper aware of the fact that the earring’s pair is still dangling from his left ear, eyes instinctively flitting to it. Your cheeks begin to heat up. Oh, it’s almost as if you’re wearing a couple ite-

He interrupts your thought before you can finish it.

“I quite like it, it’s pretty on you,” his voice breaks your train of thought. His smile is quite literally dripping with mischief, and now you can clearly see it. The tint of greed in his eyes is back as he moves his fingers that were formerly resting on your chin to stroke at the earring on your ear. His composed facade would have fooled you if it weren’t for the words he utters next.

“It gives off the feeling that you’re mine.” 

Oh he likes it, alright. Too much, maybe.

“Sorry. D’you need a break?” NIREI AKIHIKO’s voice is devoid of any teasing lilt, instead dripping with concern as he gazes at you through his eyelashes, eyes half lidded and cheeks flushed with a pretty tint of pink. 

It’s not the words by themselves. It’s the fact that he’s saying those words in this kind of situation. By this kind of situation, you mean with you perched up on his lap, legs splayed on either side of his thighs as he lay seated on a couch beneath you. He had uttered those exact words after what felt like 10 minutes straight of kissing

(it hadn’t even been 5 minutes, but you could barely think with how clouded your mind is). 

His question was thoroughly leaking with worry, caramel orbs boring through you as he awaits your reply. You wanted to say yes, hell, your lungs were begging you to say yes as they heaved desperately yes. You have to give your boyfriend credit, though. Sweet like always, he had noticed he had gone a little too far when he felt your lips part with breathless whines on his, and had asked if you needed a time out. Though, you don’t think he’s aware of how his voice shakes with want, or how his fingers that are resting on your hips squeezed hard like he was trying to ground himself, or how his eyes are swirling with something akin to need.

(or how he barely sounded apologetic when he apologized, and you suspect it’s because his pride soars with the knowledge that he’s the one making you breathless.)

“No,” you’re surprised at how hoarse your voice sounds, though, that is to be expected after you quite literally just had your breath taken away. Your thumb reaches out to swipe at his quivering bottom lip, gleaming with saliva and a little swollen from pressing against yours repeatedly. He leans into your touch, and you gulp away the feeling of your tugging heartstrings. “Keep kissing me, lover boy.” 

And as he lurches forward to clash your lips together again, the last thought that etches on your mind was that he really should put this on his resume: Nirei Akihiko, 16, not good at fighting (yet), hella good at kissing. 

Can you please write dumb/subtle/random/cute things batboys will do while they are crushing on reader?

♯ FEEL YOUR LIPS CRUSH . . .

— gn!reader, fluff

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE

becomes overly observant but awkwardly obvious

bruce wayne is a master of observation—trained to notice the smallest details in a room, a person, or a crime scene. but when it comes to you, this skill becomes more of a curse than a blessing. his crush transforms his usual precision into something downright awkward as he hyper-focuses on the tiniest parts of your life.

it starts innocently enough. you’ll be in the middle of a casual conversation when bruce interrupts, his deep voice breaking through your train of thought.

“you’ve switched your coffee order recently,” he says matter-of-factly, his piercing blue eyes locking on yours.

you blink, momentarily confused. “uh, yeah. i wanted to try something different.”

“it’s good,” he replies, his tone completely serious, as if your new preference for caramel flavored coffee over vanilla is a critical observation.

sometimes his comments catch you so off guard that you don’t even know how to respond. like the time you came into the room wearing a pair of old sneakers. bruce, who was leaning against the kitchen counter sipping his coffee, glanced down and said, “those laces are frayed. you should replace them.”

you laughed nervously, unsure if he was joking. “uh, thanks for the tip?”

but bruce wasn’t joking. “i’ll send alfred to pick up new ones. you don’t want them snapping mid-step.”

he tries to play it cool, he really does, but his constant streak of seemingly random observations only makes his feelings more obvious. one afternoon, you find him glancing at your notebook while you jot something down. without even looking at you, he says, “you press harder with the pen when you’re tired. your handwriting’s smaller today.”

you set your pen down, giving him a skeptical look. “do you . . . keep track of my handwriting, bruce?”

his face doesn’t change, though you swear his ears flush the faintest shade of pink. “no,” he says smoothly, taking a sip of his coffee. “it’s just. . . noticeable.”

it’s the way he says it—quiet and genuine—that sends your heart fluttering. he doesn’t realize how much he’s revealing, but his small, awkward comments and laser focus on the details of your life make it abundantly clear.

the funny thing is, you’re not the only one noticing. alfred, who’s known bruce wayne longer than anyone, often raises an eyebrow or hides a knowing smirk whenever bruce starts one of his “random” observations.

( “perhaps master wayne should focus on his own handwriting.” bruce glares at alfred, but his lack of a comment only makes the butler’s smirk grow wider. )

finds excuses to be helpful

bruce’s wealth is something he wields with the subtlety of a battering ram when he’s crushing on someone. his intentions are good—he genuinely wants to help—but it often comes off as over-the-top or hilariously unnecessary. for someone as logical and composed as the bat, using his money to make your life easier feels like a no-brainer, but he doesn’t realize just how obvious it makes his feelings.

it starts small at first. you might casually mention needing to replace something—your laptop is acting up or your phone is outdated. the next day, without fail, a box will mysteriously appear at your doorstep. inside, you’ll find not just a replacement but the absolute best version of the device, meticulously selected and clearly expensive.

“bruce,” you say, holding up the latest model of a WE laptop you can’t imagine ever affording on your own. “did you do this?”

he looks up from his work, his expression calm and unbothered. “it’s practical,” he says, as if that’s a reasonable excuse for gifting you a piece of technology worth more than your rent. “your old one was slow. it’s inefficient to struggle with outdated equipment.”

when you try to protest, he waves it off, as though spending thousands of dollars on you is no more different than buying a cup of coffee.

but it doesn’t stop there. one morning, you’re sitting in the kitchen with him, absently complaining about how your car keeps breaking down. it’s an offhanded comment, something you don’t think twice about, but bruce takes it as a challenge. by the time you’ve finished your coffee, he’s already pulled out his phone to make arrangements.

“wait,” you interrupt him, narrowing your eyes as you catch him murmuring something to alfred over the phone. “what are you doing?”

“nothing,” he replies too quickly, but later that day, you’re startled to find a sleek new car parked outside your home, the keys and a handwritten note from the butler sitting on your counter.

“bruce!” you exclaim, storming into the study to confront him.

he doesn’t even look up from his computer. “your old car was unreliable. this one is safer.”

“that’s not the point!”

“it’s just a car,” he says with a small shrug, though there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

despite his attitude, it’s clear he’s putting an incredible amount of thought into everything he does for you. his gestures are less about showing off his wealth and more about making sure you never have to struggle, even in the smallest ways. because to him, it’s just logical—he has the resources, so why wouldn’t he use them to make your life easier?

DICK GRAYSON

finds excuses to touch you

for someone as physically expressive as dick grayson, touch comes as naturally as breathing—but when he’s crushing on you, it’s a whole new level. he’s not even aware of how much he does it at first, but the moments start to add up. it’s little things at first: the way he always seems to find a reason to brush his hand against yours, the casual way his shoulder bumps into you when you’re walking side by side, or the way he’ll lean close when he’s explaining something, his hand ghosting over yours as he gestures.

but then, it becomes less about the accidental and more about the intentional. when you’re sitting on the couch together, he’ll sling an arm over the back of it, his fingers close enough to brush against your shoulder. he’ll offer his hand when you’re stepping out of a car or climbing over something, even if you don’t need it, the contact lingers just a second longer than necessary.

“careful,” he’ll say, his voice soft and teasing, even though the step you’re taking isn’t remotely precarious.

“you know i can walk, right?”

he grins, squeezing your hand briefly before letting it go. “just being chivalrous.”

and then, there are the moments when he gets so wrapped up in the conversation or your presence that he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. like the time you were sitting together, and he absentmindedly started playing with the hem of your sleeve. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he looked down, startled, his ears turning pink as he quickly let go.

“sorry,” he mumbled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “didn’t realize i was doing that.”

but the blush on his cheeks told you everything you needed to know.

for dick, touch is a way of expressing what words sometimes fail to say. every hand on your shoulder, every playful nudge, and every lingering hug is his way of saying, i like being near you. i like you. even if he hasn’t quite found the courage to say it out loud, his actions make it impossible to miss.

teases you relentlessly (but gets flustered when you tease him back)

teasing is how dick shows affection, how he keeps things light, and, more than anything, how he tries to get your attention. when he’s crushing on you, though, his teasing takes on a new level. every little thing you do seems to give him material to poke fun at, not in a mean way, but in a way that makes it clear he’s paying attention to everything about you.

if you trip over a word while talking, he’ll immediately smirk. “careful there, shakespeare,” he’ll quip. “do we need to enroll you in a public speaking class?” or if you drop something, he’s ready with a dramatic gasp. “wow, butterfingers, do you need me to carry everything for you? i could be your personal assistant, but i charge by the hour.”

it’s playful, yes, but it’s also consistent. he’s always looking for ways to make you laugh, even if it’s at your own expense. like the time you were struggling to open a stubborn jar of jam, and he swooped in, popping the lid off with ease.

“guess i’m just the stronger one here,” he said, flexing his biceps with an exaggerated grin. “it’s okay; not everyone can have these guns.”

but if you so much as raise an eyebrow or fire back with your own jab, the tables turn in an instant. one day, after he’d spent a full five minutes teasing you about your choice of coffee ( “a triple-shot vanilla latte with almond milk? fancy. are you sure you don’t need a royal escort to carry it for you?” ), you finally snapped back.

“oh, and i suppose you’re the coffee expert, mr. regular black coffee? real creative. i bet the baristas have your order memorized.”

the grin on his face faltered for a split second, his eyes widening just slightly. then came the blush—the faint pink hue creeping up his cheeks as he tried to recover, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“hey, black coffee is . . . classic,” he mumbled, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

and that’s the thing about dick grayson: as much as he loves dishing it out, he can’t always handle it when it’s directed at him. the moment you tease him back, especially if it’s about something he’s sensitive about (like his perfectly styled hair or his need to one-up everyone), he turns into an awkward, flustered mess.

“you spend how long on your hair every morning?” you asked him once, teasingly ruffling his carefully combed locks after he made fun of the mismatched socks you were wearing.

he froze, his hand shooting up to fix the damage. “it’s not that long,” he protested, his voice defensive but light.

“oh, come on! i bet you use at least three different products. don’t tell me you don’t have a favorite brand of gel.”

his cheeks flushed crimson as he stammered, “i—you know, it’s just . . . maintenance! can’t all of us roll out of bed looking flawless, okay?”

you laughed, and he groaned, muttering something under his breath about how you were “way too good at this.”

JASON TODD

acts nonchalant but is always nearby

jason todd is many things—brash, sarcastic, sometimes even reckless—but when it comes to feelings he doesn’t fully understand, he defaults to keeping his distance . . . or at least pretending he’s keeping his distance. the truth is, when he’s crushing on you, he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame, always finding an excuse to be wherever you are without making it obvious. or so he thinks.

take your quiet sunday afternoons, for instance. maybe you’ve settled on the couch with a book, enjoying the rare peace. jason walks in, all nonchalant, like he’s just passing through. he glances at you—just a quick flick of his eyes, like he’s making sure you’re still there—and then he settles in the chair across from you, a spot he never uses otherwise.

“what are you doing?” you ask, watching as he pulls out a book of his own, the same one he’s been pretending to read for weeks.

he doesn’t even look up. “reading.”

you roll your eyes but say nothing, knowing full well he’s barely getting through a page. you can feel his gaze on you every few minutes, like he’s trying to memorize the way your brow furrows in concentration or how you chew on the corner of your lip when you’re focused. and if you catch him? he quickly snaps his attention back to his book, pretending obliviousness.

“didn’t know you liked this spot so much,” you tease, gesturing to the chair.

a smirk plays on the edge of his lips, though there’s a flicker of defensiveness in his eyes. “what, i can’t sit here now? thought it was a free country.”

it’s always like that—his attempts to mask how much he cares come with a side of sarcasm. but the truth slips through in the little details. like how he never actually leaves the room until you do. or how, even when you’re sitting in silence, he finds a reason to linger. maybe he’s scrolling through his phone, flipping through a magazine, or staring at the ceiling like he’s deep in thought. but really, he’s just soaking in your presence.

and then there are the times when he doesn’t even bother pretending. like when you’re sitting in the kitchen, finishing up some work, and he wordlessly sits down across from you, arms crossed and chin propped in his hand.

“what?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“nothing,” he replies, though the slight curve of his lips gives him away.

it’s not that jason is afraid to admit he likes you ( although there is a possibility he is but we don’t talk about that )—it’s just that he doesn’t know how. so instead, he hovers. he sticks close enough to feel like he’s part of your world but not so close that he risks giving himself away. so while he might act nonchalant, the truth is, he’s anything but. every glance, every lingering moment, every excuse to be near you is jason’s way of saying he cares—he just hasn’t found the words yet.

fixes things you didn’t even know were broken

jason’s way of showing he cares is a little unconventional, but it’s always in the small, unspoken ways. he’s the type to notice things that no one else would—things that have been lingering for ages in the background of your life, just waiting for someone to fix them. but because it’s jason, he’ll never bring it up. he’ll just do it, no questions asked, and then act like it never happened.

it starts with the little things. your chair in the living room? it’s been squeaking for months now, but it’s not something you’ve gotten around to fixing. it’s one of those annoyances you’ve learned to ignore, a piece of background noise that doesn’t really bother you enough to take action.

until one day, it suddenly stops.

you sit down in the chair, and for the first time in ages, it’s silent. your eyes narrow. you didn’t fix this—so who did?

“jason?” you ask, glancing toward him as he lounges on the couch, pretending to be deep in whatever he’s doing.

he doesn’t even look up. “what?”

“the chair. it’s. . . quiet now.”

he pauses for just a moment, but it’s enough to catch the shift in his demeanor. he shrugs, barely concealing the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “must’ve gotten lucky. or maybe it fixed itself.”

you know it didn’t. but before you can press him on it, he’s already back to whatever he was doing, like the whole thing is no big deal. it’s almost as if he’s trying to play it off, hoping you won’t notice that he’s been quietly fixing things in your life, one at a time.

the next thing happens a few days later. you walk into the kitchen, only to find that the light above the sink, the one that flickers every time you try to use it, is now working. perfectly.

you stop, standing in the doorway and just staring at it. there’s no way you fixed it. and it certainly wasn’t broken enough to need replacing. so once again, you turn your gaze to jason, who’s now sitting at the kitchen table, eating a snack and acting entirely uninterested in your investigation.

“jason, did you—?”

“no,” he interrupts and continues watching the video essay he turns on every time he eats.

“uh-huh,” you say, narrowing your eyes, walking toward the light and testing the switch again just to make sure you’re not imagining things. it stays steady, glowing without hesitation.

he’ll never say it out loud, but each fix—each thoughtful act—speaks louder than any words could. the broken things don’t matter, because jason is here, fixing them in his own way, piece by piece.

TIM DRAKE

gets shy when you’re too close

tim drake is usually the picture of composure. he’s calm, collected, and can handle himself in just about any situation, but when you’re too close, all that confidence seems to slip away. it starts small. you’re sitting beside him, maybe sharing a space while working on something, and without thinking, you slide just a little bit closer to him. maybe your arm brushes against his, or your knee nudges his under the table.

it’s enough to throw him off, just for a second. his heart rate picks up slightly, and he tries to hide it behind the screen of his laptop, pretending to focus harder than he really is. but he knows, deep down, that he’s hyperaware of you now—of the way you’re sitting, of the way your presence seems to fill the space between the two of you.

his eyes flicker toward you, but quickly dart away, like he’s afraid you caught him staring. it’s an involuntary reaction, the nervous little shift in his posture as he tries to seem as casual as possible. he clears his throat, his voice slightly quieter than usual. “uh, sorry, was just—just making sure the laptop was charging.”

it’s obvious to you that he’s not really talking about the laptop. he’s trying to act like it’s no big deal, but every time you’re too close to him, tim’s body betrays him. the way his leg shifts a little away from yours under the table, or how he tries to subtly angle his body so there’s just a little more space between you and him, even if he doesn’t want there to be.

you might not notice the subtle movements, but tim does. and every time you get close to him, whether it’s by accident or on purpose, he feels a flutter of nerves that he can’t quite explain. it’s not that he doesn’t want you near him—far from it—but the proximity messes with him in ways he doesn’t understand. his thoughts get jumbled, and his usual calmness slips, replaced by the flustered feeling he’s not used to.

if you ever catch him looking at you, his gaze quickly drops, and a soft blush creeps up his neck. “i—i didn’t mean to—uh, just making sure you’re not too cramped.” he mutters, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his laptop, anything to distract himself from the fact that he’s suddenly very aware of you being so close.

sometimes, when you get too near, tim will just freeze for a moment. it’s like his body can’t process the closeness, and the little awkward silence stretches between you two. it’s not uncomfortable—far from it—but it’s a vulnerable thing for tim, this closeness he doesn’t know how to handle.

but if you keep talking, or even just touch his arm gently when you lean over to look at something, tim’s composure slips even more. he shifts in his seat, trying to act like he’s calm, but his hand might twitch toward yours for just a second before he pulls it away like he’s afraid you’ll notice how he’s reacting.

follows you around during patrol

it’s late at night, the moon casting faint silver light across the streets, and the only sounds are the hum of city life and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. you’re out on a walk, maybe trying to clear your head or just enjoy the quiet, unaware that someone is watching you from the shadows. tim, clad in his suit, has been tailing you for a while now. it’s not that he’s trying to be creepy or intrusive, but rather, he’s just . . . concerned.

tim is the kind of person who can’t turn off his instincts, and tonight, for whatever reason, they’re telling him to stay close. he’s perched high above you on a rooftop, watching you walk along the street below, trying to remain unseen. his red robin suit blends into the darkness of the night, the shadows making him nearly invisible to anyone who might be looking.

he’s not sure why he’s doing it—it’s not like you’ve asked him to keep an eye on you—but there’s something about the quiet stillness of the night that has him on edge. maybe it’s because you’ve been a little distant lately, or maybe he’s just worried something might happen to you in the dark. either way, he’s got his eyes on you, and he won’t stop until you’re safely back where you belong.

he’s quick, agile, moving like a shadow himself. you might hear a faint creak of a fire escape ladder or the flurry of footsteps just out of your line of sight, but when you look, there’s nothing there—just the empty street, the soft glow of streetlights, and the ever-present hum of the city.

it’s when you stop for a moment, distracted by something—maybe you’re checking your phone or admiring a nearby storefront—that he’s closest. in that moment, tim takes a chance, moving closer to you, just a few feet away in the darkened alley. he’s not trying to startle you, but there’s something in his gut that tells him he can’t let you out of his sight, especially when it’s this late, and the streets feel a little emptier than usual.

he’ll hover just out of view, giving you space but never quite leaving you alone. if you keep walking, he follows, keeping his distance but staying close enough to ensure you’re safe. when you stop at a crosswalk or glance around, he’s already a few rooftops away, peering down at you from above, making sure you’re not being followed.

the closer you get to home, the more relaxed tim feels, but he never lets his guard down entirely. even when you reach the safety of your doorstep, he lingers just out of sight, making sure you get inside without any issues. he’ll remain in the shadows for a moment longer, watching as you lock the door behind you, ensuring you’re safe before finally letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

only then does he disappear into the night, his heart still racing, his mind replaying the images of your walk. he’ll retreat to his hidden vantage point, slipping into the dark corners of gotham once more, but the small weight of relief that you’re safe settles deep in his chest. even though he doesn’t want to admit it, there’s a part of him that feels content knowing you’re okay—even if you’ll never know how closely he’s watched over you.