#` ━ ✿ ⁞ (VISAGE.) // THE GIRL KNOWN BY EVERYONE AND NO ONE. ◞ :

[shomatoriashi]

08/24/24; 05:45pm

sung jinwoo x wallflower!fem.reader

[ the academy arc - 10 stages of love ]

{ i never met you, but i wanted to invite you to the party | and you walked in with those [...] eyes, never stolen by nobody… }

1 - first sight

the girls were being too loud again, you think to yourself, trying to focus on finishing your assignments for the day as you flipped through your notes and textbooks.

"god, he's really so dreamy!"

"i can't believe he's in our grade, but is already like, 6 feet tall!"

annoyance was felt coursing through your veins, and you swore that you felt a gentle ache beginning for form against your temple. it was currently lunchtime, and instead of enjoying lunch (or doing homework, like yours truly), these girls in your class decided to gawk at the track team from the windows. the more the girls in your class gushed over some guy, the more you quickly felt your patience running thin.

not wishing to cause a scene (or be even more hated), you slam your textbook shut, making sure the impact was heard echoing throughout the classroom as the girls let out a gasp in response. their hungry gaze looks away from the window, purposely turning their heads to glare at you.

"what's her problem?"

"honestly, if you keep acting like you have a stick up your ass, no one is going to like you."

you ignore their biting words, gathering your bags and notebooks together to head out of the classroom. feeling your strands of hair fall across your face, you blow against it, removing the annoying strands from your eyes.

being known as someone that's quiet and keeps to herself, if you had a superpower, then that superpower was to remain invisible to everyone. you were achingly...average. it seemed like you blended in with your surroundings unless you truly tried to draw attention to yourself. your grades weren't incredibly high, but you never failed any classes and just did enough to get by.

with you already finished with your lunch, you decided to spend the rest of your free time doing some homework so that you could relax when you came home. as you walked through the hallways, uproarious laughter catches your attention. with curiosity felt coursing through you, you step closer to the window, ignoring your reflection while pressing the palm of your hand against the cold glass.

several feet below you, you saw the track team finish their mock race, with some of the members laughing at the utterly exhausted boy that lay in the grass. amidst the teasing words, a single member remains silent, his smile gentle and kind as he got down to the boy's height and helps him up.

you take in the kind boy's features, lightly admiring his side profile and the way his ebony locks of hair fell so perfectly across his face. despite how he was the only one that wasn't laughing, you couldn't miss the amusement shining within his grey eyes and the way his full lips seemed to tilt slightly upwards in response to the whole situation.

as if drawn in by his features, you press yourself even closer to the glass, making the boy's expression shift when he suddenly meets your gaze. the eye contact lasted for a mere few seconds when you let out a soft squeak before landing on all fours against the linoleum floors. your heart was pounding, and you felt as though your mind was getting dizzy at the thought of such a perfect tall boy had noticed you enough to look at you.

feeling grateful that the halls were empty (for now), you crawl away from the window, making sure that your visage couldn't be seen by him-

yet oddly enough, you had a feeling that he had still noticed you.

2 - introduction

there was no way you could possibly go home when such pandemonium was occurring outside your school right now.

according to at least half of the female students, the track team was holding a competition with the rival school this afternoon, and everyone was eager to watch the ever so famous sung jinwoo in action.

after that embarrassing moment where jinwoo manages to meet your gaze, your stomach began to twist and fill with uncomfortable butterflies at the thought of his stormy, grey eyes meeting with yours again...

ah, but you digress.

here you are, someone who takes no interest in extracurricular activities, being forced to stay a few hours longer in school so as to avoid the crowd and being noticed by either your peers, or total strangers from a rival school. had your parents not been at work, you would have called either one of them to pick you up from school to free you from such an event.

knowing that you would need to wait it out for a few hours, you decide to go to the one place that brought you comfort: the library. with everyone outside, eagerly watching the track meet, you were gratefully alone, able to bask in this quiet sanctuary as you were surrounded by millions of stories printed on pages upon pages of books.

with your headphones settled comfortably within your ears, you listen to your favorite music on your phone, exploring each aisle of books with a casual hum while choosing a few books to read and pass time with.

holding the precious books within your hands, you go into the corner of the library, spreading out your chosen novels before picking one that had the most captivating cover. a tiny smile graces your features when you open the tome and began to read, immersing yourself within the story and your music.

you lose track of time with each turn of the page, your eyes completely focused on the printed words while imagining each scene within your mind. as you reached the climax of the story, a hand felt on your shoulder makes you gasp, your eyes going wide as you look back to see the track star himself staring back at you.

his hair was damp from the sweat, and you saw that he was dressed in his track uniform, donning your school's colors with his jacket. he meets your gaze in an unwavering manner, the sight of it all making your heart seem to lurch in response.

the same, tiny smile graces his features, and he takes a step back before introducing himself (as if you didn't know who he was already-)

"hey, sorry for startling you... my name's jinwoo, and it didn't feel right to leave you here when the school's about to close."

3 - interaction

his sudden appearance was enough to make your heart jump within the confines of your throat. feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, you take off your headphones and really look at the time, eyes going wide when you realized that it was close to 8pm.

"shit, i didn't realize it had already gotten so late!" you take the books with you, carefully placing them within your bag as you slung it over your shoulder. you had every intention of making a mad dash home, yet it was jinwoo's large hand felt against your wrist that stops you from going forward.

"wait, it's too late for you to walk home by yourself. let me come with you."

your mind was spinning, and your eyes kept looking down at the spot where jinwoo held your wrist. "u-uhm, well, you probably live in the opposite direction, so it's okay! i can w-walk home by myself."

jinwoo scoff, now purposely sliding his grip toward the palm of your hand as he held it all while saying your name. "don't be ridiculous, you're a girl, and it's dangerous for girls to walk out so freely when it’s so late out."

the dizzy feelings refuses to cease, leaving you a stuttering mess when jinwoo casually leads you out of the school and into the fresh air. you shiver at how cold it had gotten, looking up at the night sky as you saw the stars twinkling back at you. he stops walking and takes in how goosebumps seem to appear across your arms from beneath the sleeve of your blouse, clicking his tongue while slowly shrugging off his jacket.

"here, put this on."

you blink up at him, giving him a questioning glance, yet still, he simply holds out his jacket for you to take. you murmur a quiet thank you, taking it from him as you zipped it up, feeling his lingering warmth surrounding you.

the next 20 minutes for you were spent in a bit of a haze, with jinwoo walking you back to your place with zero complaints. as you arrive at your front door, you were ready to take off jinwoo's jacket and return it back to him, but he holds out a hand to stop you.

"keep it, you can give it back to me some other time."

the heat was felt traveling down your neck, with you only managing to give jinwoo a nod as he walks away from you with a gait that was filled with confidence. you simply stood there, not moving until jinwoo was no longer seen.

only when you unlocked the door to your house did you realize something vital:

you had never told jinwoo your name before-

yet somehow, he still knew it.

4 - attraction

ever since that night he had walked you home, jinwoo seemed determined to become your friend, remaining ever so close to you when you least expected it.

despite being in different classes, jinwoo never seemed to care. he always made time to see you, and you could never say no to spending your lunchtimes with him. in fact, he worked wonders when it came to mitigating your loneliness.

currently, it was late in the afternoon. jinwoo didn't have any track practice today, and was able to spend some time in the library with you. as you both worked on your respective assignments, you and jinwoo end up sharing your headphones together, listening to your music as you snuck glances at jinwoo.

there was something strangely... intimate about listening to music together. for starters, since jinwoo was using the other half of your headphones, it automatically puts him in a position that was closer to you. because of his proximity, you caught the undertones of his minty cologne and an even closer look at his side profile-

a side profile that was, admittedly, utterly gorgeous.

hence why you kept sneaking glances at him.

after you finished answering a question, you decide to look back at him-

only to see jinwoo casually meeting your gaze as well.

not expecting it, you let out a tiny squeak in surprise, feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks as you coughed, trying to pretend that you were not looking at your best friend and taking note of how attractive he was.

his rich chuckle fills at the air, yet he makes it worse when he casually says, "what? see something that you like?"

jinwoo's teasing question makes the heat seem to deepen against your skin, as you struggled to come up with a plausible excuse.

5 - date

"i'm not going to play games with you." jinwoo suddenly says, walking up to you in a bit of an arrogant and haughty manner as he traps you against the row of lockers.

"w-what? what are you talking about, jinwoo?" you held your notebooks close to your chest, making jinwoo chuckle before shaking his head.

"i'm trying to tell you that i like you, and i won't let you say no or reject me, since i know you feel the same way about me."

blood was felt rushing to your ears, blocking out the resounding gasps coming from the girls in your class.

"you can't be serious!"

jinwoo scoffs, ignoring the girls as he was truly focused on you alone. taking a hold of your hand, he leaves the classroom and takes you to a more secluded area. your mind was unable to comprehend what was going on, repeating jinwoo's confession over and over again, seeming to play the memory in an endless loop.

was he playing a prank on you? had he been set up by one of the popular upperclassmen? were you just some bet-

the sensation of the fresh air hitting at your senses finally breaks you out of your fervent reveries, with you looking up at jinwoo as he pins you against one of the walls. you were dimly aware of how you were both on the rooftop of the school, with jinwoo's eyes seeming to flash a glowing purple briefly before morphing back to his usual grey eyes.

"i really like you... and i wish to be with you." jinwoo confesses to you once more, taking a hold of your hand before placing a kiss at the back of it, "so please, say that you'll give us a chance."

at the end of it all, you could only manage to give him a nod-

yet you swore that his smile would forever be burned into your memories.

6 - holding hands

jinwoo had taken you to a nearby amusement park for your first date-

and never once did he let go of your hand.

when he asks you what rides you would like to go on, you tell him with a shy grin, "every single one of them, if at all possible."

never one to deny you, jinwoo actually spends a little extra money on your respective tickets, giving you both a free pass to the front of the line for all the rides. you had spent some time in amusement parks before with your family, but always had to spend a good chunk of your time waiting in line.

now, however, you could skip the long waits altogether and was able to bask in all the rides. it didn't matter if you and jinwoo rode the carousel or a fast paced rollercoaster-

jinwoo still held on to your hand each time, making sure to sit beside you at every chance possible.

with the sun beginning to set, jinwoo takes you out to lunch, letting you enjoy all of your favorite foods. as you bit into a corndog, jinwoo simply smiles at you while taking sips of his soda.

even when your hands were preoccupied with food and couldn't be held by jinwoo, he still made it his life's mission to remain close to you, choosing instead to use his legs to reach out and gently caress at your calves and ankle, the intimacy of it all making you shiver. you tried to play it cool, only to have jinwoo laugh at your poor attempts of keeping your composure.

7 - first kiss

the sun had long set, and you had spent nearly the entire day at the amusement park. still holding hands with jinwoo, he asks what ride you would like to finish the day with, and you could feel the embarrassment creeping up your neck.

"w-well... i've always wanted to ride the f-ferris wheel and enjoy the night sky with s-someone special. y-you know?"

a knowing smile graces jinwoo's handsome features when he interlocks his fingertips with yours, pulling you along before leading you to the ginormous ferris wheel. cutting toward the front of the line, jinwoo flashes his special ticket, allowing you both to get on first.

with you safely tucked against jinwoo's side, the door closes, and you feel the way the cart moves, making its steady ascent while giving you the perfect view of the amusement park. all the lights seemed to sparkle like gemstones from this height, and it was difficult to hide the pure amount of joy you felt.

your giggles echo throughout the cart, with jinwoo softly saying your name. you focus on jinwoo once more, grinning widely at him when you feel him suddenly lean forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

the kiss was a chaste one, with only the sensation of his slightly chapped lips meeting with yours-

but it was still oh so perfect, with you closing your eyes as you pressed yourself even closer to him in hopes of deepening the kiss. with jinwoo's lips perfectly slotted against yours, you forgot all about the gorgeous scenery, completely and utterly focused on the boy who was slowly stealing your heart...

8 - relationship

you didn't think it was possible to feel such a powerful connection with another human being-

yet against all odds, fate had given you just that. ever since your first interaction with jinwoo, the seemingly perfect boy remains vigilant when it came to staying by your side.

your relationship had some bumps here and there, mainly coming from those who became envious of what you had with jinwoo, yet without fail, he would shield you from those hateful gazes and take you within his embrace, always promising to protect you even when things got tough.

somehow, jinwoo broke through all of your walls and made a secure spot within the depths of your heart, one that could only be filled by him as you found yourself constantly daydreaming about the future with him.

sung jinwoo had given you hope and a new reason to find beauty in life again-

and you wouldn't have it any other way.

9 - love

despite being with him for nearly a year, never once were you brave enough to come clean about your feelings for him.

what you felt for him wasn't as simple as just being love for him-

it felt so much stronger than that.

jinwoo fit you in every way possible-

he was like your other half-

your missing puzzle piece.

you had read about romance and the concepts of soulmates before, but never once had you believed in it until now.

you knew that love felt like an almost meaningless word with how much it was carelessly thrown around-

yet at the same time, it was the only word that you could use to properly convey your feelings for him.

as you were settled in bed with him, with his arms wrapped around you, keeping you cozy and warm despite the storm that was brewing outside, you found that you couldn't focus on the movie that was playing on his laptop. your emotions were running haywire, and the memories you shared with him were making you realize how important jinwoo was to you-

that there was no way you could live without him now.

with these thoughts swirling within your head, you clenched your eyes shut and decided to finally tell him. "jinwoo, i love you."

the change was immediate, with your heart seeming to plummet within the depths of your stomach at how strangely silent jinwoo became. tears were felt welling up within your eyes when he pauses the movie all while softly calling out your name.

your sniffles echo throughout his room, and you were ready to apologize to him when jinwoo faces you, his handsome features turned up in a smile that made your breathing hitch.

"those better be tears of joy, jagiya." he softly coos at you, using the pad of his thumb to gently trace at your bottom lip, "there's no need to cry because i love you, too... so fucking much."

jinwoo ends up swallowing your gasps with another searing kiss, refusing to move away from you for even a second as he presses himself even closer to you, becoming a tangle of limbs as he continues to kiss you passionately against his bed.

10 - commitment

your alarm was heard going off right at 5am, and despite how you still felt so exhausted, you knew you had to get out of bed.

your back aches with the sudden weight felt against your abdomen, and you quickly head to the bathroom to relieve yourself all while doing your usual morning routine. with your teeth brushed and your face freshly washed, you head into the kitchen to start making breakfast for your husband.

getting out all of the ingredients from the fridge, you settle them against the counter while switching on the light. you began with cooking the rice, then making some scrambled eggs while frying up some breakfast sausages. in the midst of your cooking, you felt a powerful presence coming from behind you.

you smile all while using your spatula to cook your eggs. jinwoo lets out a yawn before placing the palm of his hands against your swollen stomach, being evidence of the way you were carrying his and yours first child.

"how are my loves doing this morning?" you giggle upon feeling him press a kiss against the side of your neck. "no fair, your daughter and i wanted to surprise you before you headed to work for the day."

"oh? i'm so lucky, being so spoiled by my beloved wife and daughter."

you hum, shutting off the stove so that you could give jinwoo your full, undivided attention. he smiles down at you, looking as handsome as ever even in his adulthood. his hair had gotten slightly longer, appearing a bit wavy with his locks seeming to perfectly frame at his face.

unable to stop yourself, you lean up at the same time jinwoo leans down, your lips meeting with his in yet another kiss that takes your very breath away. not even caring about making breakfast anymore, you continue to bask in his sweet kisses, feeling his smile against your lips when he suddenly picks you up and holds you within his embrace.

you would never tire of your husband spoiling you with his affections, feeling like you were on top of the world the moment you caught sight of your matching wedding bands glimmering beneath the light.

end notes: i've always wanted to write a 10 stages of love story for jinwoo, and i'm so happy i was able to accomplish it today! i've been in such a writing block for the hubby, and i'm incredibly proud at how this turned out 🥹 it's currently unedited, but i'll make any necessary changes once this is posted!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[stone-stars]

can i ask about songs associated with irina? :o

absolutely! actually fun fact i have a playlist of instrumentals associated with irina (at least the ones we have access to as songs), bc it's such a good collection.

a real quick list of almost every song that gets used for/relating to irina, and then i'll talk about some of them, bc irina's "main" songs have some pairings within them, or at least connections--

frequent/"major": a memory, gunvar, irina (obviously), haunting visages, the gunslinger's girl and the prodigal sister, broken heart banshee and young love

others: alone, a fate refused, hospitable, gutless, kingshammer, demigod, a friend for life

[han from finishing writing this post edit: it got kind of long so i'm putting the rest under the cut]

first: she gets pretty much all of the sadie bellwater songs: first gunvar (many times, but first when fia is telling hank+zirk about their childhood, more on gunvar in a sec), then young love (for fia learning cerenysus = irina), and finally broken heart banshee (for her+fia reconciling at the end of the finale). i'm calling out the order here because it's the opposite of those songs getting introduced for sadie! which i think is interesting. sadie gets bhb for her as the broken heart banshee, then young love for her crypt, then gunvar when she finally rests.

which, aside from the musical meanings of the individual songs i think draws some interesting parallels between sadie and irina. specifically with like, sadie's change from the broken heart banshee to just being... well, sadie. and irina's change from being known as fia's childhood friend to cerenysus, the daughter of the trickster. you almost have like gunvar (humanity, it's a song about love and loss) -> young love -> bhb ("monster" song) as a scale, with young love especially working to tie their mortal lovers to them (sewastian and fia respectively).

but, musically-- like i mentioned, bhb and young love are only used once each for irina: young love is the cerenysus = irina reveal and bhb is her and fia at the end of their fight in the finale. the more prominent one is gunvar. gunvar is... well, it's an irina song in that it's a song about fia losing irina (and bukvar). it's: fia telling the third mates about her and irina's childhood, fia after bukvar is taken questioning irina's life vs everyone, irina and fia talking about bukvar in ep40 and irina saying she has him tucked away, and, finally, fia telling henry to kill irina.

second: she gets the good old marabelle combo-- the gunslinger's girl (for irina showing fia a flashback to her destroying their hometown, and for cerenysus/alette being betrayed by og!henry) and the prodigal sister (for fia first seeing her in the dream, and for fia introducing her to the third mates).

prodigal sister for irina is just... ow. it's for her coming home-- to fia. and gunslinger's ties in perfectly as a pair to it, especially given the original context of gunslinger's as cobb walking the boobs through his and marabelle's history and the betrayals involved in it.

(fun side note, irina (the song) and prodigal sister have a very similar set of opening notes)

a memory and haunting visages serve a similar purpose-- they're kind of the more dire irina songs and the songs for fia+the third mates uncovering information about her and the dangers she may be facing. the two songs have kind of similar themes anyway (with a memory being the song for the memories of betrayal/parties falling apart from the thiala fight, and haunting visages being the betrayal of the blades at the temple of the guardians) they're a good consistent pair of songs for her, and haunting visages is the song for fia incapacitating irina in the finale. to me the specific difference is... a memory is mostly tied to the more "human" side of irina/cerenysus, the side connected to fia, and haunting visages is tied to the more "trickster" side, and the things that keep fia and irina apart. which is interesting.

and finally, of course, irina's theme. it's introduced in ep23 as fia describes and then tries to scry on irina, and isn't actually used that much (6 times total) but there's this really choice thing that murph/em do with this song where. it comes in a moment before she does. as in-- in episode 32, when fia and glorg are talking, the song "irina" comes in when it's clear that irina is being talked about, but before it's confirmed. in episode 40, "irina" starts playing when sienna asks fia if she can feel irina arriving, and then she arrives. it's just a few seconds before in each case but i think it's a really cool way to use the song. (also irina's theme is the song that plays both times fia and irina kiss)

so yeah ! that's irina!

(and, i'm not gonna get into them all, but Some notes on the one-offs -- "demigod" is the song for irina attacking henry to take his death saves, and is the first piece of combat music irina specifically gets, almost an hour into that fight. it's the moment she crosses the line for fia. before that, the fight is almost entirely silent on that side, aside from a brief sting for the living blade of disaster being summoned. also, irina gets "a friend for life" when the third mates say they're her friends in ep40. i just think it's sweet. she's a part of them now!)

[filthy-reckless-rp]

♛ Spotted on the Upper East Side…

Name: Adrian Vanderbilt Pronouns: He/Him Age: 45 years old Hometown: Upper East Side, NY Occupation: Judge Social Status: Insider Faceclaim: Mads Mikkelsen

Who Is Adrian?

“Vincit Omnia Veritas.”

Did a chill just go up everyone's spine or did you, Adrian Vanderbilt, just walk into the room? With a formidable reputation in the courtroom, many would be right to fear and respect you. You're dedication to the truth is admirable and threatening. With sharp wits, extensive knowledge and a tenacity that only a Vanderbilt could possess, there's no one that can stand in your way. Before truth, your family has always been your top priority. You have a lot to be proud of, right? And a lot to protect. You just want your wife and children to be happy, loved. You would never stand in the way of that or let anyone else for that matter. Even me? We'll see. XOXO ---Gossip Girl

A Little Extra

Adrian Vanderbilt is a distinguished judge serving on the Higher Court of America, known for his sharp intellect, unwavering commitment to justice, and an unrelenting dedication to upholding the rule of law. With decades of legal experience under his belt, Adrian has earned a reputation as a formidable figure in the courtroom, his decisions marked by both their fairness and meticulous attention to detail. His legal opinions are often cited for their clarity and depth, reflecting his profound understanding of the complexities of American jurisprudence. However, outside the courtroom, Adrian’s stern demeanor has become something of a legend in its own right. He possesses what many describe as a "resting bitch face," an intimidating expression that seems to convey disapproval or displeasure even in moments of complete neutrality. This has led to a general air of unease among colleagues, acquaintances, and even those who encounter him casually—most find themselves instinctively straightening up or falling silent in his presence. Yet, behind this formidable exterior lies a devoted family man. At home, Adrian is a doting father to his children and a loving husband to his wife, the only people who see the softer side of him. With them, his stern visage melts away, revealing a man who is warm, compassionate, and deeply invested in the happiness and well-being of his family. He is the father who never missed a school event, the husband who remembers every anniversary, and the man who once read bedtime stories with surprising tenderness. To his family, he is simply "Dad" or "Adrian," far removed from the fearsome judge the world sees. Adrian Vanderbilt’s life is a balancing act between his demanding career and his cherished family, embodying both the sternness required of a judge and the gentleness that comes with being a loving father and husband.

What Does Gossip Girl Have On Them?

He was married before he married Josephine Vanderbilt. He doesn't know but he also has a child with this woman - who rather not have them in contact with one another.

Connections

Peter, Nick and Chris Vanderbilt - Adrian's children who he is extremely proud of and loves dearly. They are his pride and joy, even if that's not always apparent.

Tripp and Juliette Vanderbilt - Adrian's nephew and niece. Adrian's especially proud to see Juliette starting her journey to becoming a lawyer.

Nate Archibald - when Anne Vanderbilt, Adrian's sister, married Howard Archibald... He wasn't so sure about him. In the end, his instincts were right. But he loves Nate, Nate's family.

[beamattack]

Hi omg i love your loz idea so so much they live in my head rent free for real!! I have a question tho; what happened to my girl hylia?? Like you said the faceless statue in the village might have crumbled or been destroyed somehow but is that the ONLY statue there is? Are there others? Are they also destroyed somehow? Has the whole concept of the godess hylia faded from hylian memory??

Also as someone who lives in the arctic sircle you got the vibes perfect btw!! Love the frozen wasteland it is my natural habitat ^_^

Thank you so much!! :^D I'm glad you like it, and that you like the vibes! I don't live in the arctic circle but i do live pretty close to it, so we usually get quite cold snowy winters as well!! I love snowy landscapes, they can be more beautiful & have more variety than many might think!!

As for if the concept of Hylia have disappeared from hylian memory - both yes & no! Just as with Din, Nayru & Farore, whose names have been lost to history and are now just known as ”The Three” or ”The Creators”, Hylia's name and visage has been forgotten & warped over time. The statue of the Faceless is the only one known by the villagers, so for them it's normal that that's just the way she looks. There are stories about both her and The Three that have survived and transformed over time - about how after The Three created the world, The Faceless brought down people from the heavens to live on it, and about how the Faceless herself battled an unspeakable evil but had to retreat to the heavens after she had sealed it away, as her wounds were severe. This period in Hyrule is almost exclusively reliant on oral tradition & retellings to tell history, so stories change naturally over time (only Zelda, Impa and a few others can read & write since it's important for the work they do! And no, Link can't 👍).

So in the end, it IS still Hylia that the villagers pray and ask for guidance to, even if it's by another name, but much about her have been forgotten and retold over many, many years.

There is one other statue of the Faceless that can be found out in the middle of nowhere, but just as the one in Link & Zelda's village, its face/head has been destroyed in some way. As for why both statues are like that, I like to keep that to everyone's own interpretations :^) If this really WAS a game there never would be an answer for it in-game either, haha!

(loz idea masterpost)

[valeriethornton]

#VALERIETHORNTON: It feels good to be known so well, I can't hide from you like I hide from myself.

connections  pinterest  playlist  musings visage

BASICS

full name: valerie judith thornton

nickname: val, baby thornton (only to those who've known her since childhood)

age/date of birth: 30 / july 30th, 1994

zodiac sign: leo ☼ gemini ☾ virgo ↑

gender identity: cis woman (she/her)

hometown: los angeles, california

current location: wilmington, nc

neighborhood: masonboro

time in town: five years

sexual orientation: bisexual

occupation: law

PERSONALITY

labels: the bon vivant, the polymath, the atelophobic, the double-edged sword

pos traits: passionate, affable, meticulous, affluent, curious, cultured

neg traits: domineering, overcritical, machiavellian, overwrought,

fears: fear of not being enough, moths

hobbies: reading, crocheting, diy projects, traveling, equestrian sports

languages spoken: english, french, latin, swedish

instruments played: piano & violin

favorite color: emerald green, any variation of pink, sky blue

favorite food: french cuisine

allergies: n/a

APPEARANCE

height: 5'6

distinguished characteristics: n/a

tattoos: none

piercings: ears

right or left-handed?: right-handed

RELATIONSHIPS

parents: amelia thornton (nee: langham, retired actress), eugene thornton (lawyer, heir)

sibling(s): two older "siblings" (tbd)

spouse: tbd

pet(s): a british longhair cat named freyja

other family members: tbd

BIOGRAPHY

tw: illness mention

Not every love story starts with sparks. Amelia Warner (a B+ Hollywood actress at the time) met Frederick Thornton (a lawyer and heir) on a charity auction in Los Angeles, organized by one of Amelia's many well-renowned friends. Frederick was instantly infatuated by Amelia, outbetting her in each and every item of the night, much to her annoyance, only to send every item to her house the very next week, requesting a date.

For months she denied him, finding his approach distasteful and abrasive. It was only after yet another failed highly mediating relationship with a co-star that Amelia decided that a date couldn't hurt.

From then on, the two couldn't stay apart. From dinner on their very first night together to staying all night in Frederick's hotel to traveling the next day to Paris for a week to returning to California for her very first red carpet as the lead in a movie— they spent the next months glued to the hip, ultimately getting married 6 months after the charity event, giving birth to their first child a year later and their second, two years after that.

Valerie was born on a hot, chaotic August night. The hospital was strangely packed, personnel overworked and overtired, so when a nurse (after a 20+ hour shift) dropped the name tags of two babies that had been born almost at the same exact time next to each-other, no one batted an eye. It was easily fixed, no repercussions whatsoever and the babies were brought back to their parents. She had a wonderful childhood surrounded by a loving family who always encouraged her to be the best version of herself and sure enough, Valerie used all her drive to be what she thought she needed to be, perfect in every sense of the word. The school was her kingdom, not only was she an honor roll student but she happened to be liked enough to be considered one of the popular kids, the life every little girl dreams of and every movie teaches to aspire to, reason why her own sense of disconnection from everything and everyone that cemented on the pit of her stomach from a very young age, was always an strange concept to her.  Although all her life Valerie felt like she didn’t belong anywhere, the young woman played the part she imposed on herself with ease. She continued living the picture-perfect life her parents facilitated her with from birth, living life as she was supposed to: straight A’s , enough extra curriculars to keep her mind occupied, a healthy social life, comunity service and enough time to pass with her family— promising young woman was the first phrase anyone who got to spend some time with Val associated with her . 

Upon graduation she applied to various universities and ultimately got accepted into almost every choice she made, choosing Stanford as her alma mater and law as her line of studies, per her famiy request.

Law had never been a subject of interest to her before, but nothing else had either and knowing how much it meant for his father to have someone in the family following his steps, Valerie knew she had nothing to lose and slowly but surely, began falling in love with the career and even began envisioning a life as a high profile lawyer.

Harvard Law came soon after graduation and it was during her time in Massachusetts that she met who would ultimately become her partner. She fell quick and hard and following her parents steps, Valerie got married in a lavished and grand ceremony not even a year upon meeting.

Once her studies were done, Valerie and her spouse decided to settle down in Wilmington, Val's partner's hometown as Valerie decided to fight to make a name in her line of work by her own, without the name Thornton tied to her success. It was around this time where the Thornton family received some shocking news: their family fortune had been wiped clean by their accountant and debt was beginning to pile up from their expending and businesses expenses. The previously wealthy family had to sell everything they owned and ultimately decided to move to North Carolina to start anew.

Slowly but surely, Valerie and her partner started to build a life of their own. She became a Junior Lawyer in his father's firm (now situated in North Carolina and forseen primarly by Valerie herself), a beautiful home they could call theirs and Val even began helping her family get out of their situation along with taking care of her parents who were now having a hard time getting work on their own due to the Thornton name being publicly stained under the public eye. Finally, she felt like her life was her own and she was doing what she was made to do, take care of the people she loved the most.

Tragedy struck when Val began feeling ill for a couple of weeks before landing in E.R, doctors doing every test possible to find the cause of her lethargy, pallor and overall sickness. After three weeks without answers, spent going from the hospital to home, the results were in: pure red cell aplasia, a rare bone marrow disorder. The treatment involved getting various blood transfusions but when her family began getting tested for the transfusions, the results showed they weren’t compatible. The treatment continued with the help of other donors yet the doubt rose within the lawyer: why wasn’t she compatible with anyone in her family?

Once Val was back on her feet (at least strong enough to continue with life as she knew it), she decided to take a DNA test; the response arrived two days later leaving her with more questions than answers when it was revealed to her that the Thorntons weren’t related to her by blood. Knowing everything she ever knew was a lie, Val began to spiral down. Unsure of what to do and how to process the information she continued her life without telling a soul the information she had received but now, in the back of her mind, Valerie knows there is a ticking bomb, a tell-tale sign constantly reminding her everything she knows is a lie, keeping her constantly on edge and straining each and every single one of her relationships..

[mjrarcana]

Name: Mikoto Yuki

Activity level: very high

Age Range: 16-17

Pronouns: she/her

Summary: Mikoto was only 6 years old when was driving home late at night with her parents. One second, she was asleep in the backseat, the next she was crawling out of the burning wreckage of the cart they were in. The world around her had changed and shifted into a nightmare. No one was around aside from a girl fighting a monster and --

…. A dream. One that she had plenty of times. Each time, the girl got more difficult to see. Until it was discarded as childish imagination. And Mikoto always had a vivid one. She learned quickly to keep it to herself. She behaved and tried her best to suppress all of the sorrow.

Smile. Be a good girl. She could hear her mother say. And she tried to live by it. She was empty inside -- but she could pretend. Smile and uplift others. She had no purpose in life. No close connections. Her only companion being her music. Surviving for the sake of it with no connections.

She wore a mask of joy and energetic fun. All to hide how broken and angry she was. She would keep everyone at arm's length. Everything was temporary, after all.

Until she awakened to the power of a Persona and joined SEES... Then she had something she had never known in her entire life: Purpose.

NOTE: I am willing to interact with Makoto Yuki / Minato Arisato as long as it is plotted out first. Otherwise I will always regard them as AUs of each other.

Arcana / Persona: Fool / Judgement / Death / Universe. Wild Card.

Aesthetic Board

Playlist

Verses:

meet me at midnight - main verse. takes place during the events of the game

i'm already gone - P5r verse. In which she's is brought back by a wish. Will add more info but for now see my Makoto verse as it's very similar.

Connections:

n/a.

Tags:

❝ all of me changed like midnight. ❞ ⸺ ⊰ mikoto yuki. ⊱

❝ cuz when I sink I feel so pink. ❞ ⸺ ⊰ mikoto yuki / visage. ⊱

❝ even my heart on my sleeve is pink. ❞ ⸺ ⊰ mikoto yuki / musings. ⊱

❝ I've tried to be what people think of when they see me. ❞ ⸺ ⊰ mikoto yuki / study. ⊱

❝ Build a new me out of paper-mâché. ❞ ⸺ ⊰ mikoto yuki / headcanon. ⊱

❝ i was midnight rain. ❞ ⸺ ⊰ mikoto yuki / aesthetic. ⊱

[sparatus]

Aephis meets Sephira pls 🥺💕

wip game

hi sorry work happened ANYWAY so i lied, because i was recalling file names off the top of my head at work when i made the post, the file is actually named aephis WINS sephira which is much more fun imo

anyhorse!! this one's a challenge fill, prompt was in the beginning and this is going back to a backstory fun fact that im stupid fond of. we're visiting axilus's parents when they were young, back when aephis was a whore carefree young NCO and sephira was working towards her master's degree. aephis's friends make a bet with him about whether or not he can get the ice queen in engineering to sleep with him, and he loves a challenge, but oops instructions unclear caught feelings and forgot the bet entirely, and oops she might be falling for him too

special for u here is extra long snip (cause the context is needed)

--

Aephis Madelivio, by all accounts and purposes, was the ideal turian, the kind put in every romance schlock vid to be admired and panted after, turian and xeno alike. He was tall, muscular, and sported the classic turian romance hero frame of broad shoulders, trim waist, rugged claws, and sturdy legs and feet. His plates were a ruddy maroon, his crest was attractively long, and the clan tattoos striping his face in white were elegant and complimentary without hiding too much of his handsome visage. He was top of his class in every flavor of combat available, and was doing quite well in the tactical testing, too, thank you very much. He was loud and boisterous to the point it might almost be irritating, but so friendly and charming and genuine about it the annoyance never lasted. His parents were both from well-known clans, the Madelivios of Shaal and the Sparatuses of Tiirtias, and even more famous names before them, giving him the kind of pedigree that didn't sound real until you noticed the sand-scattering length of his toes and the xepöa'vach on his back and keel. He was, checklist-perfect, a model young drake any turian worth their teeth would kill to be seen on the arm of.

And, most insufferably of all, he damn well knew it, and walked around with the swagger in his step to prove it.

Not that he let it go to his head. No, of course not, he was modest, too. Being humble on top of everything else was even more swoon-worthy, after all, and he had pretty girls to woo and handsome boys to flatter. No time for being unappealing. Especially when they were between ground missions. There was only so much time in the day cycle their superiors could make filler for, special officer’s training or no, and, well, what else was he supposed to do?

“No way,” Salvirian blustered, flaring out his mandibles. “You can’t get anybody on board, nobody’s that good.”

Okay, maybe he was a little immodest. Nobody was perfect, so sue him. Besides, bragging about it with his gaggle of friends was different from going around telling anybody who would listen.

Aephis purred, tapping his chin with one talon. Salvirian wasn’t that bad-looking himself, silver plates with a striking darker patch in the middle of his face, but the yellow-green tattoos didn’t do him any favors. He also just sucked in bed, Aephis knew from experience, and judging by the scuttlebutt around the ship, he wasn’t just the unlucky one. “I didn’t say anybody,” he argued. “I said anybody who’s into drakes. I’m an equal-opportunity bisexual, but not everyone here is. I’m not a dick, I’m not gonna try to go after a lesbian.”

Agnianus snorted into her reconstituted meat product in sauce. “Thanks for your consideration.” She poked at a somewhat suspicious lump that immediately fell apart into mix dust and heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Iunno, Sal, I think he could do it. He already pulled Dardaion, and she bit the last dude who hit on her.”

“Dardaion doesn’t count, that was after they sparred to a draw and wrestled a bit,” Salvirian huffed. “That wasn’t his charm, that was his fighting skill.”

“No, no, that counts,” Tanidonis argued, already holding out his rations to Agnianus in trade. “We're just talking about ability to pull anybody who might be interested, not specifically how it happens. Just because Dardaion doesn't wanna fuck you doesn't make her magically unavailable, Sal."

Salvirian’s throat flushed, and he pulled his head down in his cowl. Agnianus swapped trays quickly, then huffed. “I have an idea," she said. “I heard some of the engineers talking about one of theirs who's, like, total ice queen. Threw a wrench at somebody for disturbing her work with flirting and just went right back to her math. If you can tap that, you can tap anybody.”

Aephis raised a brow plate, but Tanidonis just scoffed. “Yeah, I heard them, too. Flaucius is just pissy she turned him down. He sounded like a prick, all, ‘ohhh, I was sooo nice to her, I was her only friiieeend, but she was still so meeeaaan to meee.’ Fucking pathetic. Like, I learned I’m not entitled to a hot girl’s attention just ‘cause I’m nice to her when I was ten. Y’know, when I realized girls were pretty and not made of cooties and violence, and my dad had a talk with me about dating like a normal parent.”

Aephis snorted and clicked his mandibles. "Nah, girls are definitely still made of violence,” he countered. "That's the hot part. Remember the Dardaion part of this conversation?”

"That's also why you're all straight or bi drakes who follow around a lesbian,” Agnianus added sagely, taking a drink from her canteen. “Turians are matriarchal by nature, and our gender-equal society is proof we're civilized and more than our base natures. It's, like, science. Anyway, I still think that Actinus hen is a solid test of Aephis's appeal as a drake. She did still definitely throw a wrench at a guy, that's irrelevant to Flaucius being an entitled bag of dicks.”

[shinigami-mistress]

So, I said I wanted to try to write a Madam Red/Grell story. Here is just the first little bit of it. Hope you like it!

*****

The door to the manor opened briskly, and Angelina swept inside like a spring breeze scented with rose petals. The few servants nearby turned to look her way, and although they saw her almost daily, they paused as if to drink her visage and unabashed sexuality. She was used to it and typically drank in such attention, but in the confines of her home on such a day, it was annoying.

“Come on, Grell,” she said, “I’ll take my tea in the parlor, and I wished not to be disturbed.” The last part of her statement was directed towards the other servants.

“Yes, Madam,” Grell replied meekly. Unlike Angelina, Grell's appearance in dull, butler attire caused no real interest nor drew any attention. It was as if Grell was truly lost in Madam Red's crimson shadow.

Angelina didn't take time to ponder the irony of the situation. She retired to the parlor and sank down in a chair. Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes as she ran her hands through her. Very little surprised her, but this information was far beyond anything she could expect.

There was a crash in the hallway and Grell's sharp yelp. Angelina smiled to herself as she looked towards the door. A few moments later, the door opened and Grell slipped inside to set a disheveled tea that near Angelina before hurrying back to shut the door.

Angelina picked up one of the cups

“Did you really have to spill all the tea?”

“Would you have drank even if I hadn't spilled it?” All the meekness in the voice had melted away as if it had never existed. Grell spun around; the dull brown hair becoming as red as if her scalp was bleeding as the wild locks broke free of the meager restraint of a hair tie. The green eyes took on a hard green gold shine, and the smile revealed dangerously sharp teeth.

Madam Red inhaled sharply as her heart beat faster. No matter how many she saw Grell's true appearance, it filled her with so many conflicting emotions. Fear, excitement, desire, and even a touch of dread. All the emotions tumbled around inside, but she never gave voice to her feelings. She couldn't help but think of how they has been perceived by her staff when they had entered. Grell had been ignored - almost as if she was invisible. Had they entered as themselves, Angelina would have been the one ignored as everyone ogled the beautiful, dangerous being known as Grell. Now that their masks had been discarded, Angelina felt like that little insecure girl once more while Grell swept about the room with confidence and power. She was red death, and Angelina was her ally, her confidant, her lover…

And part of her was utterly terrified.

(Let me know if you'd like me to continue.)

[hugovance]

VISAGE

“Mother says that a well groomed man is prepared for occurrences in life and death.” Hugo Vance, a well groomed man, takes careful time to keep himself clean even when he’s in a place where it’s not the main priority. Everyday after fighting in the dance you wouldn’t find Hugo with a camp follower in his tent, you would find Hugo cleaning himself up, cleaning his nails, and then shaving the hair off his face and ensuring his hair was always cut to a length his mother would approve of even in war. This called the men to make jokes, mockery of the pampered lord who finally ranaway from his mother. Hugo has always taken then ribs in stride, he knows that men bond through mockery though he rarely takes part for he has little understanding of where the line is.  Tall, lean, and boyish is how one can describe the physical presence of Hugo. He is a naturally curious young man, bright green eyes always holding contact. Something people commented on is far too intense which he has taken note of and now mentally counts to 30 before looking away, he thinks he needs less time. The only facial hair he’s ever had is a thin mustache, he and his mother agree that a mustache is elegant and easy to maintain over a beard. Hugo often gives the impression of a young man filling in for his father when he enters rooms. Described as studious, educated, and kind the Lord has a reputation for his ability to recall historical events, namely dates. With a fondness for reading, hawking, horses, and fencing the Lord is quite active. In the same breath that women use to call him gentle and pious, men will call him boring. The Lord of Wayfarer’s Rest is known to his people because of his love for horse racing through his lands or his hawking with the children.

QUICK FACTS 

Hugo spent some time at the Citadel where he learned what they had to teach him, what they allowed him to do beyond the scrubbing and cleaning of many new members. When he was called away due to the realm being on the brink of war he considered it his greatest sadness. 

While not incredibly war minded, Hugo loves to make plans. He sees the many patterns in the world around him and he knows how to put those pieces together and forge something of success. He was very successful in his time in the dance with the few plans he used to cut off groups using hunting trails and beaten horse tracks. 

While not considered near the top 100 of great knights in Westeros, Hugo is a phenomenal fencer and enjoys taking part in the contest. He experienced one duel in his time in the dance with a young lord hoping to win favor. Using his prized rapier blade he slew the man in single combat taking his host as prisoners. 

“Everyone with experience died. We’re giving it our best and so far, we’re alive and well. May the Gods bless and guide the souls of the dead but, and I mean well when I say this, people die. Whether it’s those little girls or those smallfolk, people died. And people will continue to die if we don’t make room to learn from mistakes.” 

Hugo Vance is not a council member as much as he is a courtier who maintains a close friendship with the King and hand. He wishes to forge positive connections with everyone, seeing little use in animosity and trickery when working together is the only way to solve their problems.

[cryopathiic-a]

To say that Inosuke's blood was boiling was quite the understatement. He seemed ready to explode as he sat in his chair, wrists virtually glued to the armrests as the lady before him painted his freshly cleaned nails into a deep, blood-red color.

Oh, he should have knowns this was a trap when rainbow-eyes promised to treat him later. He should never have walked past those doors.

The incessant cackle of voices was nothing short of insufferable. Honey, did you know? No, she didn't, and Douma was probably about to tell her. And I was like, "no waaaaaay!" Yes way, moron.

Inosuke rolled his eyes as slowly as he could manage. What was stopping him from breaking these lady's fingers, breaking out of this place, and setting fire to the entire mall?

"Uncurl those little fingers, young man." The lady told him off in a stern voice, inbetween two giggles at whatever delightful tale the blond young man was telling. Inosuke bit so hard into his lip that he drew blood.

Something prickled at the back of his head. The man was looking at him. As Inosuke allowed the words to reach his ears again, what little he caught immediately sent his rage off the meters. Something about the boars. The mud, the dirt, the benevolence one had to have to reach out to such a dirty hand, and offer it the roof it had always sought.

There was a shriek as Inosuke ripped his hand free and grabbed the vial of nail polish. The liquid spilled from its container as Inosuke chucked the bottle right at Douma, very much hoping that it would not only land right in his stupid face, but also stain his stupid clothes – and with some luck, spill into his stupid mouth as well.

He still remembers her eyes.

Big, doe-like, filled with wonder. Their color; a deep green like forest trees with veins of emerald and glimmering gold; the sort of thing you can only find on ancient temple statues and be humbled before the beauty that can come from mere earthly rocks. Thick lashes laden with tears. Her dillated pupils had harbored his reflection, her lips, soft and puffy, had donned that final gasp so delicately. And then—

Every tme he looks at that child serves as a reminder of that night.

Dōma tends to avoid it. His days are flooded with activities that leave little space for mulling over several themes in his life; and more often than not, the menace in his custody gets dragged along for the ride. The smile stretches further on his visage, facing his appointed nail lady with near unblinking elation. Eternal Paradise has several business fronts. This salon is just one of many. And Mei-Mei here, she has known Dōma since he was about Inosuke's age.

❝ She was absurd about it, Auntie. ❞ As most of the older women in the Family were often referred to. ❝ We aren't even together and she expects a full report of my day and night? It reads a little toxic, in my opinion. ❞

" She is insecure, being next to a man like you. But that's nothing new, for a woman. Men like to be mothered and some women pick up on that and think it applies to everyone. You don't need this kind of energy in your life, honey, take it from me. Right now... " She nods towards Inosuke. " — you should be focusing on stability. I've been married seven years and I know first hand what it takes to raise a child. You need a partner that can show up, not add more fuss to your life. " The 'Auntie' comments nonchalantly, whilst glossing over his pinky. It is held up in her hardened grip, confessing to a lifetime of toil. Dōma's flawless skin is a stark juxtaposition; as is the blase look he wears whilst browsing through his Instagram feed.

❝ Mhm. ❞ Nonchalantly, prismatic eyes traverse the room for the one in question. Inosuke is seething on the manicure chair, just as Auntie's colleague, another girl from the cult that was offered a job here, tries to reason with the kid. A huff slips through Dōma's teeth. The woman lowers her voice, leaning a bit closer over the manicure table.

"How is it going, with the little one? " Dōma purses his lips.

❝ Ah... there's been some challenges. He has learned so many misconceptions, out there with the boars and whatnot— but it's a slow pro-- ❞

Hushed words cut with the abrupt movement from somewhere in the room. The girl lets out a squeak when something is flung across in the Dōma's direction; it's cool and thick when it connects. A spritz of red paints the counter and drips down his chin onto his silk shirt. The fabric stains crimson. Dōma's eyelids flicker in effort to push a droplet out.

"Good gracious heavens!" 'Auntie' exclaims. She turns harshly towards the girl that sits stunted on her knees. "Well don't just stare like that, go, fetch towels!" What other clients were present in the background are roused; coming to Dōma's aid. Within a couple of labored blinks he is surrounded by warm towels, wipes and a glass of water — as if the entire ordeal would have shocked his throat dry. But the man merely looks down, demurely tapping at the fresh stain in his lap. He reaches for the bottle, but someone gets it for him first, with the expected word of reassurance.

Don't worry about it. How can I help?

I'm so sorry! Would you like me to rub it clean?

Oh, what a disaster! Lord Founder, I can wash your shirt for you!

Is there something you need? What can I get you?

They flock to him; drawn into the humility of such a measured reaction. The most appropriate one, some might say, when dealing with a problem child. 'Auntie' spares Inosuke a scolding word in the meantime; something about messing up her salon. Only then does Dōma seem to perk up — quick to brush past the people crowding his seat and interject.

❝ I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, 'Auntie', I will send someone to clean up this mess, okay? I apologize for the mess and the inconvenience. But I think we should just go. Inosuke, where is your coat— ❞ He begins to shuffle about, knowing well the child most likely would reject putting it on in either case.

"Don't apologize-- are you sure you don't need us to drop you off somewhere--"

❝ No, that's fine.It's fine. I'll just call Nara to come pick us up. ❞

And that he would. Without a second look towards the child. Without so much as a scoff.

[gutsposting]

Found in a file labeled "Initial Incident"

Before you lies a visage of death. An unnaturally large man, rotted away and hollowed out. The organs are dust, the bones cracked and withering. The body is without flesh or form. You look inside the rib cage, upwards towards the heart. It lies still, incomplete.

A bubbling, boiling pool. Microbes Invisible to your eye. You perceive them within it, the organism begins to take form. The cells split, absorb smaller beings and feed off of their energy. The desire to consume others in order to survive is created, and evolution unfolds before your eyes. Millions of years flash past you, the writhing and the screaming. 

The heart flickers…

December the eighth, 1941. Tecumseh island, a rather peculiar place to begin with, received an unexpected visitor. Visitors here were always unusual. The island possessed a very difficult dock located in shallow waters infested by coral, and no air strip. With only about 385 inhabitants, those coming to the island were always expected. Always a welcome family member or old friend. 

Sometimes, roughly once every five or ten years, a British or Dutch family would leave one of their homelands’ colonial possessions in order to seek out a quieter life in the paradise of Polynesia. Demographically, the island was about half European, thirty percent African American and the rest being a mix between Polynesian natives or Japanese immigrants.

Today’s guest was especially noteworthy. A plane was seen at about 5:30am crashing downwards towards the sandbar located just a few hundred feet off the Northern coast of the island. 

A crowd formed without a word needing to be spoken. A well-known old widow began to cry out “Jackie’s out there! Jackie! Someone go check on her! Please! You there-“. A group of men, not knowing about the girl’s decision to swim out to the sandbar in order to go fishing, had already found a rowboat, oars, a rope and gathered up some weapons. Everyone seemed to ask for Sheriff Grady all at once.

They found him on the radio, with tears in his eyes. He was the first to tell everyone about the attack on Pearl Harbor that had occurred yesterday morning. It was very difficult to get in contact with anyone off of the island, and news traveled slowly. A few of the men in the crowd, ready to take on the stranger who had landed on their island, were Japanese. Trust was thrown out of the window right away, and they were quickly told not to leave the island, or even the town. 

Only one man, known throughout the town as Mr. Yoshi, was fluent in both Japanese and English. He was given the unfortunate task of translating all of the orders from the whites to the rest of the Japanese inhabitants. He had brought with him a baseball bat, and appeared ready to kill the man in the plane, but his weapon was swiftly confiscated. No one on the island wanted anything to do with any of the Japanese residents now, even those who were born on the island and lacked little known connection to Japan or their “native” culture.

Mr. Yoshi gave up his baseball bat, but was very clearly annoyed when Mr. Grady told the other men that he allowed to come along that “you can’t never trust them yellow bastards.” Grady told them how they held competitions in China over how many prisoners they could execute by beheading in a minute. How they’d pile up the heads to see who could make the biggest pile the fastest. By now, most people in the crowd were screaming and crying over the attack on Pearl. The rage growing within the town itself was growing in a way that everyone could physically feel, like magic.

Round spectacles hid a pair of sad old eyes. Yoshi wanted to rip the man in the plane to pieces. He wanted to show his friends that they were wrong for doubting him and the Japanese neighbors Yoshi had met here. Over time, he had been able to convince one or two people that he was here with good intentions.But there was nothing he could have done in order to make the whites trust him, war or no war.

Dan McGraw was the most vocal racist on the island. He demanded that Grady either arrest Yoshi, handcuff him, or leave him on the island while the rest of the men captured “the Jap” and brought him back for interrogation. Grady refused.

“Yoshi can understand him. And if the pilot isn’t Japanese then we won’t need a translator anyways. Nobody got a good look-“

The old woman was screaming again. She had found the small crowd of men on the shoreline surrounding a rowboat, and the cries of “Jackie! Jackie!” Whipped all the men up into a new frenzy. One of them started shouting about Nanking, started saying that the son-of-a-bitch would be raping the girl if they didn’t get there soon.

OSS later reported that the following men were on the boat that initially met the assailant; Sheriff Grady Brown, Dan McGraw, Yoshi (surname redacted), Bonnell Quaid, Lenny Callahan, and Jordan Freeman. Grady Brown was an oddity for the area because his father was a Black Frenchman, and his mother was a young Polynesian local. Nobody was entirely sure how he got his position, but even the white trash McGraws and Fosters tended to turn a blind eye towards having him as sheriff,  even after seeing him remove every vestige of segregation throughout the island.

Grady was the only one who owned any guns on the whole island. An M1911 that he said he had taken as a souvenir from “the war” was all most people knew about. Some people didn’t believe all of his fanciful stories about combat in France, but he did have enough pictures of himself in uniform to prove it. He also had a gun case in his office which held a shotgun and enough rounds for Grady to take out the whole town.

The men all crammed themselves onto the tiny boat. The Sheriff, sensing the tension in the air, took almost all of their weapons away. Only Freeman was allowed to keep his baseball bat, because he was middle-aged and Grady trusted him. The rest were told that they would help Grady deal with whoever was in the plane, assuming he was Japanese. Secretly, they were all wishing it was an American pilot knocked unconscious. 

Expecting the worst, Grady would stand back just a bit away while the rest of the men held him down so Grady could handcuff him. If he went for a gun, or the sword that they all imagined him carrying, Grady would shoot him, and call for the navy to come pick up the body and the plane. 

Yoshi politely requested that, if he wasn’t immediately hostile, they give him a chance to communicate with the man and allow him to come quietly. Grady obliged him, although the others grumbled. McGraw said “You probably have some kind of  plan you want to work out with him.”

“No, I want to see if he will surrender. He might come willingly … we don’t need to kill him”

“Japs don’t surrender.” Was the cold reply.

As they approached the sandbar, they could see the smoke from the wreck coming up above the treeline. Flames were licking here and there, only visible through the gaps in the palms. Jackie was standing on the beach apparently unharmed, shivering and waving her arms over her head. The Sheriff gave her a blanket, and asked what happened while he led her to the boat.

“I was just out fishin’” she began, “and then the plane just fell out of the sky. I didn’t wanna go near it for a while, but when I walked up to it I could see that the guy in there was dead or somethin’.” Grady told her to stay in the boat, and the men huddled together.

“ If he’s dead,” Grady began, “then this is as simple as can be. You and you pull him out, and then we call in the nearest ship and it’s out of our hands from there. If he’s breathing then I want you and Dan to pull him out of there while Freeman and I watch him for some kind of trick. And if he’s awake, Yoshi can try and reason with him.”

They all agreed. “We stick together.” Grady reiterated . “If we get to the plane and he isn’t in the cockpit, we get back on the boat and we leave. We don’t want to tangle with him now that he’s had time to set up a trap or a radio beacon or a who-knows-what.”

They approached the brush shoulder-to-shoulder, with Yoshi forced to stay a few paces behind and Quaid ordered to stay with the boat and the girl, creeping their way towards the wreck.

Still aflame, but not spreading fires or being too unmanageable to get near, the plane was very much unlike what Grady had expected it to be. He had read a story in the newspapers he got shipped to him that taught you how to spot a Japanese plane. Mostly he remembered the distinctive Mitsubishi Zero fighters that were the most common type seen in the war Japan was fighting in China. They were almost always painted white, with huge red suns painted on the wings and tail.

This plane was painted matte black, with no insignia or identifiable markings to be found. It was still powered by one propeller in the middle of the plane’s body, but was otherwise totally abnormal. Somehow you could tell that it wasn’t made from aluminum like most modern planes were.

The pilot was also dressed bizarrely. Covered head to toe in a black uniform devoid of badges, patches or symbols, more closely resembling a straight jacket than a flight suit. An odd looking gas mask, made up of a series of hard plates, covered his entire head and hid his features. He didn’t move as the men approached the plane, and Grady pulled his pistol from the holster . A shot rang off, and the pilot didn’t move.

The other men started to walk towards it, but Grady motioned for them to wait. He peered into the cockpit, looking for the dials and instruments one could expect to find on a plane like this, but couldn’t see any identifiable alphabet or symbols anywhere on the dashboard. Not even any numerals. “Yoshi!” He shouted, and waved for the man to come close.

“What is it?” The sweet old man asked, clearly terrified.

“What does this say?” He was almost screaming. Grady pointed at a set of characters engraved onto a small nickel plate that was riveted onto the dashboard. Yoshi pondered it for a moment, and then shakily replied “It isn’t Japanese, Chinese or Korean. I don’t even recognize it as Mongolian… I don’t know. I don’t recognize it.”

“Bullshit!” McGraw shouted. “Shut your fucking hick mouth!” Was Grady’s reply. 

“Is he alive?” Asked someone. Grady said he didn’t know. Swapping his pistol into his left hand, he reached for the pilot’s neck with his right. He tried to press down on the spot where he expected he could find a pulse, but he wasn’t able to find any kind of gap between the plates that made up the mask, and he couldn’t feel the skin underneath. He found what looked like a small latch or button on the faceplate, near where the end of the jawline would meet the neck.

He pressed it, and after a loud series of clicks, the faceplate jolted very slightly towards the left. Grady tugged at it, and it opened up like a door to reveal that the man was not Japanese at all. In fact, he barely even looked human.

The US Navy Communications Board had quickly gotten into contact with the local government, and in an emergency decided to reveal to Grady, after he signed several top-secret level NDA’s, their new invention. Their “wireless long-range telephone” could make a call to almost anywhere in the world without needing a landline connection on anyone’s end anywhere. They had dropped the unit in by parachute, with specific instructions for Grady, only about four hours after they apprehended the pilot.

“Yes sir.” Dan, sulking around a corner in the hallway while trying to open the shotgun case, was listening in on Grady as he was on the phone. “Well I took the camera apart like you asked… yes I did in fact… yes every reel he had with him was full of them… well I have them all laid out in front of me now. No, I don’t see anything significant about them. Just a bunch of crates.” The Sheriff shuffled his papers around, and was listening intently to the man on the other end of the line. Dan got back to fiddling with the lock.

“A serial number? Yes… let me see… N dash C dash one-one-seven… uh… the pictures are blurry I’m sorry… what was that?” Dan heard a click. For almost an hour now, he was listening to Yoshi and the pilot speaking to each other. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he knew that they were planning something.

Grady was trying to read off another of the serial numbers through his magnifying glass, when he heard Dan shout “Let go of him you piece of shit!” Grady sprinted for the holding cell downstairs, gun in hand. He burst into the room to see Dan pointing the shotgun at Yoshi and the pilot. The pilot was standing over Yoshi and throttling his neck with both hands, and Yoshi’s face was starting to turn purple. “Let him go right now!” Dan was shouting.

“Put the fucking gun down Dan! Right now!” The sheriff screamed, cocking his gun and pointing it at Dan’s back. Dan ignored him, and shouted again for the pilot to let Yoshi go.

Just barely, Yoshi asked again and again for Dan not to shoot, and tried to wave his hands back and forth. “Dan!” Grady shouted again.

Just like that, it was all over. Dan shot first, and Grady shot Dan in the back. The pilot’s grotesque, inhuman head was blown clean off, and a pellet slammed its way into Yoshi’s right spectacle, lodging into his brain and killing him over an excruciating two hours. Dan’s lung was hit, and the bullet traveled so fast it actually pulled a bit of his ling out of his body. He died the next day from infection on a Navy hospital boat.

Grady was charged with triple murder, and was found dead hanging in his cell on June 7, 1942. The OSS, which later evolved into the CIA, investigated the incident and buried the story in the decades to come. The Japanese residents of the island were evacuated onto the American mainland and sent to concentration camps for the remainder of the war. Some time later, every other resident was evacuated. 

The explanation given by the military was that the island was to be fortified, and that the island had been threatened by the Japanese. After the war, the American government compensated all of the residents of the island for their losses, claiming that nuclear tests at Bikini Atoll and other sites had somehow made Tecumseh island uninhabitable “for at least three hundred years.” Jackie died much later due to complications during childbirth. No one today remembers the incident except for a few gray old men in the upper echelons of the various US Intelligence agencies.

[jonquildove]

starkmatriarch:

“Reckon the Hound intended to have a bounty paid for her,” Harwin explained, “Your brother was still alive and winning his battles and seemed fit to defeat the Lannisters–” A hiss emitted through the gash in Catelyn’s throat, a death-like hiss that spoke of anger and fury. It was a death-rattle that reverberated in her throat. If the Lannisters had not played such an underhanded way, if the Boltons and Freys had not been so disloyal and dishonourable, Robb would be alive still and would certainly have broken the Lannisters. He won every battle in which he fought, and would have continued to do so…and so they killed him at a wedding. And blood would pay for blood, betrayal would pay for betrayal, and she would ensure the Lannisters paid their heavy debt. She was always suspicious of the Lannisters, remembering hanging out with Cersei when they were younger and being friends; yet they grew apart over time. “-I imagine the Hound wanted to ransom her” Continued Harwin after nodding briefly, sensing she stood like she had a crossbow aimed to Petyr and the girl Sansa, in acknowledgement of Stoneheart’s anger. He was concerned for her wellbeing, hearing her violent coughing wrack her body. ”The girl was a frightened thing, distrusting, suspicious of everyone; happen that’s why she’s survived so long. She gave us the slip..thought we were like any other bandits ready to sell her to the highest bidder. But we’ll find her though…the Hound is dead but the girl lives. We’ll find her” Stoneheart nodded, trusting in his words. Harwin was loyal to the last, loyal to Ned, loyal to her, loyal to the Starks. It had been he who had begged she be revived when they found her body, to Harwin did she owe this life, and she would not waste it. He had known her since he was younger, and she him. Though her skin rotted, and the skull showed a little beneath her scalp where hair did not cover it, though her hands were white and mottled and water-soaked, she would keep this life until vengeance was done and her children were safe. No matter how long it took. Catelyn did her best to hide the most horrific features of her new visage, keeping the hood loose about her hair, the cloth shading her cheeks, the scarf about her neck, slipping her hand beneath the scarf in order to hold her throat to speak. She hid in the forest, away from the costumed people dressed for Halloween, yet one had seen her, saying he liked her banshee costume. “Why…Tyrells…what good have they done you?” She asked, “They…are wed to the…lions…”.

“A bounty…? ” It did make sense, in a way, for Sandor to want gold. She did not think the Lannisters would take too kindly for his abandonment of the battle so engulfed with wildfire, nor grant him enough coin to fend for himself. He had sworn at Joffrey, when he saw the fire, leaving with enough gold to travel. He realised he did not like the Lannisters, even though he had thought it a job that paid him well; never liking Joffrey, especially, even though he was his dog that followed orders. “Did he intend to go to Riverrun or was it the Twins he travelled to, with Arya?” A flicker of uncertainty flits through Sansa’s eyes at the burning fury the hiss seemed to hold, but it was fleeting, and she wonders if her mother had noticed. As Harwin talked about her long-lost sister, Sansa wondered what horrors Arya might have experienced, and yearns for her presence. “If she is alive, I hope that we do find her, Harwin, and soon. Where could we start looking for her?” She feels a twinge of sadness, upon Harwin stating that the Hound was dead. As gruff and frightening he tried to be a majority of the time, he had saved her all the same—perhaps, he wasn’t so bad. “…How did he die, do you know?” “They have done every good to me, Mother. They are nothing like the lions. Margaery and her grandmother even tried to get me away from the Lannisters, to wed Willas in Highgarden.” But…of course, that ‘secret’ plan had been found out, to her dismay, and she was arranged to marry Tyrion instead. If her Mother met the Tyrells, especially of Margaery, Sansa gathered that her attitude towards them may change. Well, perhaps more so, if she wasn’t become Stoneheart…

[glamguide]

𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 .ᐟ

Aren’t you curious about her story? You will see how her growth and success were made!

Clementia Idony Divona Fabroa, pronounced as /kleh-men-tiy-uh/ /id-oh-knee/ /dee-voh-nah/, the only daughter of Cleoneth Everleigh Fabroa, The Global Glamour.

Her mother introduced the fashion industry at the age of 4, making the lassie gaze at her mother’s works as Cleoneth was a single Mom and she couldn’t leave her child to everyone.

It was merriment to say that they had already foreseen the outcome since Clementia had the complexion of a model—It ran from her mother’s blood.

Despite her lineage as Cleoneth’s daughter, she refused to stand in line for modeling castings at the age of 11 and endeavored to establish a name or title with blood, sweat, and tears.

Initially, She faced hardship, engaging in online bullying targeting her fatherless status. Attackers attempted to criticize her with insults, but such efforts proved useless, for Clementia determinedly transformed this challenge into a persistent goal.

Now, in her present, Clementia has become known as a Versavisage Metaversal Glamour, The Epitome of IT Girl Glam, and the Nation’s Treasure. It took the lassie seven years to establish her name in this industry without her mother's benefit. She secured a contract with Luminique Paradigm, also known as Lumi Models—a renowned agency collaborating with various luxurious brands and more.

Only 10% of the new models could sign with that agency, as they heard some rumors about how Lumi Models is picky when it comes to its models. This is true since the agency only chose some promising models who made them well-known. Luckily, the CEO, Lumique Aurelia Laurier, saw Clementia’s potential at one of the Milan Fashion Weeks that she got invited to and decided to recruit her quickly.

At every turn, Her resplendent visage graces the roadway, buildings, advertisements, and more!

“Clementia! Let’s go!” Echoed her manager, catching a glimpse of her reflection before the impending event. The lassie beamed with a radiant smile, still enraptured by the surreal realization of having her amidst a dream.

Kicking her feet on the ground, Her manager chuckled. “You look excited, huh?” Clementia nodded and felt a sense of achievement, “Of course! I finally made it!”

“Not now, girly. You need to chill. Let’s go na, Bebe.” Her manager announced, and so Clementia stood up from her chair and followed her out of the room.

[arcanaaa]

@hisreveniens asked: [ 𝐇𝐔𝐌 ]

🌙  *  ―     𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒  (  prompts for the five senses. add [reversed] to reverse the action. feel free to change wording as needed & add details )

[ 𝐇𝐔𝐌 ] ― sender hums a lullaby to lull receiver to sleep

THE TENOR OF HER FATHER’S VOICE CROONED A SONG THAT SHE DIDN’T RECOGNIZE. She didn’t remember her father ever singing at the guild, or ever having the gift of song. He was better known for his brawn and brash expression rather than defaulting to the more delicate arts. In the years since Cana’s known her father, he had not once ever sang, not even to the other kids that congregated around him in the guild. But that’s what made this moment so special to her. 

Their camp was spartan, with only their pack and a shared bottle to carry them through the cold night. It was a good excuse to fall on-- the seven years of being trapped under the First Master’s spell did a number on everyone, and neither she nor Gildarts were spared of its healing affects. But healing came at the cost of time, and time locked much of their bodies in a state that allowed the magic to settle and permeate their system. A happy coincidence that she found herself becoming inebriated at a much faster rate than before.

Now she found herself leaning her form into her father’s side, her head gently laid upon the firm muscle of his bicep, Cana felt lulled by the fire’s warmth and the burning liquid of booze. It was a perfect moment of peace, one that Cana never would have dreamed would ever occur in her lifetime. 

As the notes of his song reached their final stanza, Cana’s eyes drifted shut and her body slackened, unclenching from her tight hold and granting herself permission to be vulnerable-- to give her father a chance to guard her safely without a fight. As sleep claimed the Seer, Cana could have sworn she felt Gildarts gather her against his side, covering her body with his cape to shield her from the cold. If she were conscious enough to be aware of her sleepy incoherent murmur, she would have noted the fond expression of adoration upon his visage and ceased such action. 

But she did not. So Gildarts enjoyed the rare moment of closeness with his daughter-- his little girl, while he hummed the lullaby that Cornelia had loved to hear, all those years ago.

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „  LOVER, LOVER

tw. noncon, somno, implied size kink, praise, possessiveness, panty stealing, breeding, thoughts of violence, unreliable narrator, yandere esque wordcount. 4.8k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by a follower who i'm so very grateful for ♡ thank you thank you thank you for the commission!!! clingy bokuto is just such a joy, i love him so much and i hope you do tooooo!! i really hope you like where i've taken your idea and that you enjoy reading my love! ♡♡♡ and ty ty ty to rhi and yuli beta-ing!

bokuto koutaro x fem!reader

There’s a little glimmer in Konoha’s eyes— but he’s quick to swallow his laugh. “So you’re telling me there’s no you and Bo?” he confirms, thin brow raising high on his visage to almost comical effect. 

“There’s no me and Bo!” you quickly say back, trying not to laugh too when the gray haired man’s pretty eyes flick up to meet you. Bokuto’s talking, his loud voice raising the energy in the room to a peak, and you happily watch how he lights up everything around you. There’s so much happiness in his smile, and the way he carries himself, but it’s unmatched by the way he looks when he’s looking at you.

It’s only when you feel the full force of Bokuto Koutaro that you can truly, deeply appreciate him. And the force of nature he becomes when he’s in his element.

“I love him like a friend! But… I’m happy right now. I don’t want to ruin an amazing friendship for something more.” You admit it all while watching him wave his hands around while talking, brighter than anything else in the room. “He knows! I’ve told him.” As if always sensing your eyes on him, he stares back at you for a second, before his cheeks pull up even more and he scrunches his nose your way. And the ashy blond by your side slowly takes a sip from his drink, until you look back at him.

“Did Bokuto retain that info? Because…” he trails off, and shakes his head. You continue to look at your mutual friend for what feels like a while, as he slurps the coke through his straw with an unneeded amount of noise.

+

“Thank you so much,” your voice barely travels loud enough for the bartender to smile, watching you carry the plate all the way towards the table. Koutaro had thrown the biggest fuss when you so much as suggested staying home tonight, and- you don’t often have the heart to tell him no. Your best friend is splayed out in dramatic fashion over the tables of your booth by the time you make it back— full ‘woe is me’ as he’s about to break the tables under his weight. Something Akaashi is clearly doing his best to avoid, with the white-knuckled grip on the edge of the furniture as he sends you a desperate glance.

“Bo, you’re going to break it,” you just give them a little shake of your head, but it’s enough to have the silver haired giant perking up and looking over his shoulder for you. It’s a surprise even to you that he even heard you over the noise— less of a surprise when he’s picking the plate out of your hands before you can place it down and shoves the thing in front of Atsumu’s nose, and grabs your arm to pull you into his side.

“There’s my favorite girl! Don’t run off without me, I miss you,” he pouts down your way, and you can’t help but wonder how it’s possible that a muscled, grown man like Bokuto is as childishly needy as he is tall. And he is very tall. Despite it though, you’ve only ever known him to be gentle and kind to everyone and everything, a bundle of sunshine on two very muscular legs, and a massive pushover for- well, you. You met Bokuto when you got paired up with Akaashi on a final project— stressed to hell under last year of high school pressure. Keiji was the hardworking, quiet type; and finding Bokuto attached to your hip afterwards was just kind of par for the course.

It didn’t shock you when the light-haired, boyish extrovert took a liking to you— as the type of guy to see the good in everyone. It does still shock you a little that years later, he’s the one claiming the title of your best friend. Even with all the unbridled chaos he carries with him. The -lock pinkies and tell secrets in the dark- type best friend.

Atsumu takes a quick glance your way before holding out a shot toward you, and grins. “Yer goin’ first, aintcha? How’s about ya try outdoin’ Bokkun or Omi Omi for once. C’mere, I’ll make sure ya don’t have to hang out with that sap all night.” It’s just a joke, you know Atsumu well enough by now to know so, but an arm tightens around your waist.

Koutaro’s leaning into your body but staring down at his years-long teammate with a silence uncharacteristic of the tall spiker. His big eyes narrow the slightest bit as the uncomfortable void grows thick. Atsumu isn't even looking, already prompting others to take their own shots in the short time it took for him to get more than tipsy, with a healthy flush and lidded eyes. But you are looking, and it’s strange enough for you to give him a questioning frown over your shoulder.

“Bo?” He doesn’t say anything. “Earth to Bokuto?” you try again, attempting to laugh it off. There’s a thoughtful sort of glaze over his eyes before he grabs your cheeks in his hand and makes you look up at him.

Bokuto’s always been touchy. It’s a fact you had to get used to extremely quickly, when on only your third time meeting, he’d flung his arms over your shoulders and kissed you, backing you against a wall right in the middle of the very busy halls. It had taken Akaashi a lot of back and forth explaining to fix that one, but you like to think you became better friends despite it all. It was forgiven a long time ago. But the way he holds you now, no enthusiasm boiling over, or as much as a smile, feels off. “Don’t listen to him. Don’t drink like that tonight.” The serious tone in his voice throws you off even more, and you roll your eyes.

“Why not? It’s the weekend- We’re with friends.” Whatever he hears in your voice makes his brows tense more. And it makes you mutter softer, “Neither of us are driving either.”

He licks his lips with a strange sort of disdain. You can’t quite place where you’ve seen this version of Bokuto before, but it makes you feel a bit apprehensive, and you say his name again. This time he nods, and even puts on a smile; though it doesn’t reach past his cheeks. “Why get wasted when we can do that any other time, though? I wanna have a good time with you. And I can’t enjoy myself when I constantly have to search the dance floor for you- or check which freak is hitting on you, or trying to do something— You know you become so defenseless.” His voice gets pouty and exasperated quick, and you know he probably doesn’t get that what he’s saying might be hurtful.

It’s fine. This is Bokuto Koutaro, the guy who spent three whole years using every single free opportunity to impress you with his thoughtfulness, and to get you to admit he really was ‘your favorite person’. Even kittens have their claws, so it’s fine. “I’m not planning on getting wasted— and even if I did, I’m a grown woman.” He opens his mouth to talk more, but you’re quick to cut him off by taking his hand and squeezing his fingers with a softer sigh. “I appreciate your worry, Bo, but I’m allowed to have fun.” You expect that to be the end of it.

Bokuto is good at pushing boundaries, but he’s also softer with you. Always was so willing to listen. So you are more than a little shocked when he doesn’t settle down, getting more up into your face instead by staring down with a scorching fire in his eyes.

“No, you can’t. Not when they’re around,” Koutaro harshly replies, low in volume. You slowly brush his hand away to look back at Atsumu for support. The blond surely didn’t hear what was just said, but you’re not sure you’re comfortable with what it’s implying. If it’s implying anything at all— and you look back at your friend with more confusion. But before you have the chance to ask, Kuroo Tetsuro, mutual high school acquaintance and ever the disrupter of the peace, chimes in with a loud cheer and swoops you up into his arms to slam two whole shots down before you with a grin.

“Chug ‘em, or you have to get up on stage with me.” Bokuto’s face fades from your view with Kuroo’s exuberance, the light in his tone instantly calming your anxiety. You don’t want to fight with your best friend over nothing, your thoughts quickly chant, and Kuroo’s a great way to pick your mood back up. “That strip pole is calling our names.” You snort as he slides the glasses even closer, dragging out the scraping noise, and forget about the weird interaction almost as soon as it came.

+

You’re just being friendly. Bokuto knows this, knows you’re inherently, deeply wired with the ability to make it seem like the person you’re talking to is the most interesting thing you’ve laid eyes on all day. And sure, it definitely wasn’t the first thing he noticed— that probably would have been the way your eyes glistened like two fire beacons with those long, long lashes aimed at him, and then your fine fucking body; he’s a healthy, young-blooded man after all —but it was definitely a prominent factor. Despite your quiet, reserved nature, he’d been glowing coming off of the first time talking to you, like everything he was saying was just so… interesting.

It’s a stretch to call you naïve, because you’re not. You’re smart, like Akaashi is, and you managed to pull the two of them through the disaster of a final assignment upon just meeting them. But there’s something in your smile, in the way you look at the world through wide, inviting eyes that seems to beg for his attention. It makes him want to squeeze you and never let you go, if he’s being honest. He knows he’s supposed to take it slower, knows that for all your kindness, you’re not one to rush into things.

But he’s been more than patient in his eyes, and because of it, you’re now staring up at Kuroo with those pretty giggles and nods that sure as fuck made him fall head over heels for you. He’s not unreasonable. He cares about you enough to allow his friends to get near. He’s trying, truly! But Kuroo’s arm around your waist is a bit too much, blood boiling as he balls his fists so tight his knuckles turn white. The instinct to land his fist straight into Kuroo’s teeth is pushed down with a deep breath, before he wipes those sweaty palms on his pants and makes his way to you with a plastered-on smile. It falters only a little when you look up as he calls your name, and it makes his stomach tie into tight knots.

You’re so fucking good, so pretty, so— perfect; it’s really no wonder everyone else tries to cut in. If he didn’t always feel like his heart was about to swallow him up, he’d understand. You’re magnetic, a vision of his future. If he loved you any less, he might’ve already beaten Kuroo’s face bloody. He likes the guy a whole bunch, but not enough to give you up. He can only dream that you feel the same.

That you think of him when you fall asleep, when you wake up, when you glide your dainty hand into your panties and rub— “Hey, Bo,” you smile at him, before giving him a poke in the chest. It’s an adorable display of how drunk you’re getting, and he has to fight back the glare he longs to send Kuroo for getting you this far in the first place. What if he wasn’t around, if he was preoccupied and hadn’t been watching you like a hawk all evening? But then you lean in a little grin. “Came to find me?”

Of course he did, his mind chants while taking your hand in his, he’d fucking chain himself to your side if you’d allow it. He doesn’t need to say that for it to be clear to anyone watching, right? You’re teasing. So he just pats your head, and pushes himself between you and Kuroo against the wall. “You ran off without me,” his pout is back, and you give a soft ‘sorry’.

“I was going to give ‘er back, Bo,” Kuroo chants to his side, but he doesn’t waste a second looking over. If he does, he still might plant his fist into his face— and you’d get upset with him. And he’d rather hurt anyone who so much as looks at you and then himself than have you upset with him; he really does love you a whole lot, you know? There’s other ways to get you out of here— and you are so very sweet to him when he plays it off. Something about a taxi and an incoming storm is enough to have you collecting your stuff and waving everyone goodnight, letting Kuroo squeeze you in a hug much too long for his liking.

He must show it on his face, because Akaashi’s dark, questioning eyes meet his; and he takes that as the sign to get out of there. He’s getting antsier by the second. And can’t help but get handsy, wrapping his arm around your waist as soon as Kuroo’s releasing you. He bumps his friend aside and smiles over his shoulder without the slightest bit of regret. “G’night, guys!” You don’t get to say bye, and that’s just fine by him. The way he has to hold you up a little to get into the taxi is too, preferable even. 

He’s so glad you’re just a little thing, really. Every part of him shows you up size-wise, and selfishly, it makes him think that he was really made for you. To protect you, hold you close. Shelter you under his body when the first drips become a full on shower. He thanks whatever deity it is that starts the downpour then, because a few raindrops run down your lashes and the tip of your nose when you look up at him getting under the overhang. He’s getting too excited, it rolls in waves off of him until he can barely contain himself. You look like everything he’s ever wanted— fuck, and how you smile at him. His hands are itching to push you up against a wall and kiss you until you’re crying out his name, maybe hike your legs up onto his shoulders.

You don’t seem the exhibitionism type, but then again— he doesn’t think you’d fight him on it. Would you? But he holds it in, and waits for you to get out from under the umbrella created by his arms. “Come on in. It doesn’t seem like a good idea to let you head home like this,” you breathe out with a sniffle, pushing at the door to your apartment. You go find some towels, leaving him in the middle of your house with adrenaline running through his veins. Now, he might not be the brightest, but this is an opening, isn’t it?

Akaashi said something about boundaries, and all he can think is that if you’re letting him into your house without a second thought, something must’ve changed. It must’ve. You might’ve turned him down once that while ago, when he was claiming your mouth in the hall— but that was then, and you both are older now, closer. He can’t help but snoop as you search through some back closet for spare clothing; entering the dark bathroom with a little sigh. Like he expected, your products are neatly displayed in the cabinet, hand towels freshly washed and folded, everything seeming more like a hotel than a house. His eyes land on the basket next to the bathtub, and a hot shiver runs up his spine.

Some lacy, frilly panties are just visible sticking out next to the sweater he met you in this morning— going tingly and burning all over his skin. He already can’t help but imagine you bouncing on his cock and tearing up at the stretch when you pout; knowing that this was underneath it is enough to set him up in flames. He glances over his shoulder, before quickly picking out the panties and bringing them up to his face. It smells of feminine products and laundry soap, but there’s a musk that's unmistakably you, and his cock twitches hard in his pants. You wore these for him, didn’t you? He feels himself chub up more the longer his thoughts wander—longing to just wrap the panties around his fist and fuck into them.

But your steps are returning, so he pockets the lingerie with quick hands and puts on his best smile. You peek your head into the door after knocking, cheeks a little shiny and warm as you hand him a towel and some fresh clothing. Big… clothing— that most definitely isn’t yours. It’s fine though, he bites through the sting in his soul, you can’t know how much he adores you, and loves you, and needs you all to himself. He hasn’t exactly made it clear, and you’re also unaware of just how fucking attractive you are, right? “It doesn’t look like it’ll clear up any time soon.” Your smile is gentle when you nod. “So you can stay over if you want to. I don’t mind!”

God, he could kiss you stupid. 

His hands are restless by the time the lights are all off, tossing and turning every second longer he has to remain on the extra mattress. Don’t you have any idea of how crazy you’ve made him now walking around in your short, loose fitting pajamas? It’s a domestic dream, and you’re front, center and back in every single thought. As he lays in the silence, there’s the soft sound of your chest rising and falling, of breaths softly slipping out of you— and for the nth time this night Bokuto has to admit to himself that he’s so in love with you it’s making him feel a bit sick.

You didn’t exactly make things easy on him. He still remembers calling up Akaashi every night for weeks after you rejected his advances, when you were struggling to meet his eyes after. And sure, he’d been a bit too enthusiastic. He knows that now, knows he scared you away; you’re shy, he understands. But this time is different. This time he’ll do it right. He sits up on the bed, can see how you’re slumped into the pillow. He could eat you up with how fucking cute you are. But he’s still careful as he calls your name, twice, before slowly getting onto the bed. You barely move, letting out just the faintest breath.

And Bokuto can’t help himself, he’s already leaning in to brush his thumb over your pouty lips. It’s not bad to look. He’s allowed to look. He does that all day already, studies your face like you’re his own personal universe. You would too, if you saw what he sees. Of course, it is a little different, because his cock is straining against the confines of his boxers every second longer he’s touching your soft skin, close enough to place a kiss on the tip of your nose. You breathe out, and he can almost convince himself it’s a moan. It’s enough to have him gripping himself through his shorts and biting his lip, hard. “God, f-fuck, baby.”

He nudges your head a little closer to him, and before he knows it, he's kissing you. There’s so much he wants to tell you— spill all of his love onto you without stopping, but he figures there will be time for that later. He holds himself over you into the kiss, chest heaving and foot tapping nervously up and down. His tongue swipes over yours, claiming you once again, and moaning into it when a little puff of air dusts over his skin. Could you be any cuter, any hotter? Even asleep you’re making him so hard it hurts, one hand moving down to squeeze his balls. It’s embarrassing, isn’t it, and he chuckles into your mouth when you move under him a little. “Sorry, I’ve just wanted you for so long,” he admits, pulls back and lines your neck with kisses too.

All the while your lids stay shut, and he’s careful to untie the front of your pajamas with the softest motions he can manage. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby, I swear. Give you everything.” As he trails his fingers down your body, you wiggle aside a bit, but not enough to escape his now greedy fingers. His cock bops between his thighs when he lands between your legs, and ever so patiently pulls the shorts down the softness of your thighs, swallowing through the tightness in his throat. “Oh, shit—fuck.” You’re perfect, and a shiver goes down his spine at the idea he might be a tight fit.

He can’t help it, he’s already dipping to kiss down your pussy, rubbing you up and down with first one finger, then two. You definitely moan though when he lays a lick on your covered clit and sucks it from the hood, his hips rutting against the bed with a low, rumbling whine. Precum is making his boxers stick to the head of his cock, but he’s much too preoccupied lapping up your folds and making them all messy and wet with his enthusiasm. He��s basically shaking, but how can he not be? He’s been picturing this for fucking years. Through every date, every hookup he’s had— you’d laugh if you knew.

He sucks harder, and slides his long fingers inside you to stretch the clenching, soft walls of your pussy apart; and fucks slowly into the soft of the pillows until that turns too excruchiating to continue. So instead he shoves his boxers out the way and takes the time to fully peel your panties off your legs, then places them apart. His cock is rock hard, flushed and throbbing an angry shade of red at having to wait, before he wraps his hand around himself and allows a few lazy pumps. Just enough for a clear drop of pre to bead at the tip before he’s lifting up your one thigh over his and lining up.

Your pussy is so hot, wet by his doing, and your face scrunched up just the slightest bit. It’s agony, really, baby. His thoughts are barely a strung together mess as the head of his cock slides between your bottom lips, neck and back tight from the adrenaline. This is what you do to him. Every night. He’s gonna cum if he keeps going— and he can’t, he can’t do that to you, not when he’s been dreaming of having you for so fucking long. But leaning down to kiss you doesn’t help, and you let out the prettiest whine when he starts pushing into you.

His breathing speeds up, sweat collecting on his brow. “Oh, baby. Baby, I—  fuck, I wanna go slow,” he moans back against your mouth, tasting your tongue, grabbing your tits with one hand. Everything’s fuzzy. But once the head pops in, it’s like a whole other world. You’re so fucking hot, pussy so soft and sucking him in like he belongs there— any thought of taking his time is gone. It’s impossible, his hips start pushing and pushing until he’s bottoming out and your slick, gushing pushy squelches when he pulls back. You’re godly. He clamps a hand down over your neck to keep you from bouncing too much as he pushes back in and drives himself as deep as he can go.

And back out, and then you’re making more noise. “Hmm-ugh?” Your face scrunches up hard when he fucks back into you, driving you open so deep he can feel where he’s hitting in your tummy, and moan long and high. “Ah—agh, Kou? Boku- to, wh—” you struggle to regain your consciousness when he pushes your knees back to your chest and uses his body to fuck even deeper, deeper— clenching around him so tight it’s making him lightheaded.

“I know, baby, I know. S’gonna feel good, I swear,” he’s clenching his teeth together so hard it hurts watching his fat cock push into your tight, little cunt again and again and again, watching slick gush out around his length. He can tell by your strained expression that whatever is going on in your brain is outnumbered by the way he’s pawing at your tits, or bumping his pelvis against that puffy nub.

And you do manage a stuttered, “Bokuto, s-stop,” but it’s hardly anything to be concerned about when you squeal and tear up at the circles he rubs into your clit. “What’re y’ doin, Bo?” Your tears bead so prettily at your lash line. Your body shudders under his when he raises a leg and uses it to fuck into you faster, driving the air out of you with each wet ‘pap’ of skin meeting skin. His balls hit your ass each time he bottoms out, and make his cock feel like it’s going to explode, but he couldn’t stop if he tried. With your brows screwed together and your face all hot and cheeks glossy, it’s hard to think of anything other than fucking you full of his cum.

Of bouncing you on his cock until you’re crying out for him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you so much, ‘m almost there.” He wants to give you everything— fucks deep and hard like maybe that’ll convey his thoughts better. He’s just not that good with words, you see, he’s tried and failed that so many times. But this, rutting into you like your pussy is his personal heaven; and that’s what it is— it leaves you breathless and reaching to dig your nails into his shoulder. He moans and grunts, whispering your name, fucking into your warm clutch until his balls pull tight and his thighs start aching. “Gonna cum, angel. Gonna fuck y’full- you like that, right? You want it?”

He’s rambling out without any collected thoughts, just focussed on watching as you suddenly pull tight like a bow and unravel before him, trying and failing to push his hand from between your legs. “Ohh-fuck— ugh-fuckk~” You cum with an adorable, little whine that makes it impossible for him to hold it any longer. He slumps over you as cum spurts into you, emptying his balls in your tight, little pussy until every last drop is inside. When he pulls back, his hot, white cum runs out like you’ve been entirely fucked full of him— and it makes his tongue drop out to lean in and kiss your cunny until he dies between your legs.

He could go happy, you know? But as he tries to hike your thighs over his shoulders, you must finally regain some of your situational awareness, because you’re placing a foot to his shoulder and pushing him away from you with wide eyes and tears running down your cheeks. “What are you doing, Bokuto? Wh- I- why would you—”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he’s instantly cooing, grabbing your ankles and keeping you in place despite your struggling. It’s so cute, but you don’t have to be scared of him. He adores you, baby— wouldn’t hurt you for anything. Everyone else, but never you. “I’ve got you, don’t freak out.” He allows himself to snuggle up to your body, pulling you in nice and close despite the way you’re glaring through your tears. It’s the stress talking, of course, but you’ll be fine. He’ll make sure of it. “You want to come again?”

“No,” you instantly snap, and though you’re pushing at his chest, it’s so easy to keep you nice and warm pinned between his strong arms and chest. You huff a little, and look between his face and your bodies, before breathing out sharply. “Bokuto, please, I—”

“Stop wiggling, baby,” his voice comes out a little too low and sharp for his liking. “Just lay here with me for a bit. And then in a second, I’ll help you clean up, and make you something warm to drink. The whole nine yards, I promise.” He’s smiling, so fucking wide it’s making his cheeks ache. But he can’t help it, you see? You’re such a dream. “I’m so happy, baby. So, so happy, you have no idea.”

As he squeezes a little more, kinda, sorta forcing your face to rest against his collarbones; you finally stop pushing back against him, and let out a soft whimper of his name. “You’re my favorite person in the world, y’know that? I know I say it a lot, but— I really do mean it.”

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[hakureimaiden-a]

I love this sprite so much and I love @maeriiberii​ for making it for me